Chapter 559: The Game, the World, the Emperor of Qin!

The world stirred with wind and clouds; in an instant, the changes in Chen Guo had unleashed thunderous upheavals, causing even the armies originally slated for a northern campaign against the Taiping Army to halt—Yuan Shitong and Xue Tianxing, two veteran generals, had clashed repeatedly with Chen Guo’s border troops, and now watched as they withdrew into defensive positions.

Doubt and worry filled their hearts.

They felt their mission to contain the enemy had gone awry; after retreating, they hurried to find Master Wen Qingyu, but could not locate him—until they asked others and learned that Master Wen Qingyu had gone fishing again.

Xue Tianxing fretted: “At a time like this, how can the Master still have time to fish?!”

Yuan Shitong, however, exhaled deeply, tossed aside his bloodstained helmet, and shouted for stewed pork with pickled cabbage and other hearty dishes to be brought quickly—he intended to eat well and restore his strength.

This demeanor made Xue Tianxing laugh bitterly: “Eat, eat, all you think of is eating—how can you swallow food in such a situation?”

Yuan Shitong replied: “You’re smarter than me. Are you smarter than the Master?”

Xue Tianxing froze.

Yuan Shitong said: “What good is your worry? The Master still has the leisure to fish—that means everything remains under control. Why are you rushing yourself so desperately?”

“I, at least, know I’m not as clever as others—and so I know how to trust them.”

“You’ve been clever all your life, yet never trusted anyone for even half of it.”

Xue Tianxing stared at Yuan Shitong, then sighed and tossed his helmet aside.

He sat down heavily.

“Fine. I won’t worry anymore.”

Yuan Shitong stared at him, grinning, held up two fingers, and said: “Pickled cabbage stewed pork—no wine. More meat.”

“Bring two pots!”

Meanwhile, Yuwen Lie had returned with Qin Yulong.

Jiang Gao personally went to pay his respects to Gao Xiang, inviting the world’s greatest archer to join the campaign; the news spread like thunder across the land, stirring up storms once more after a long period of calm.

In the Jiangnan region.

Yan Daiqing’s fingers held a go stone, tapping it lightly on the board with a crisp sound, arranging them one by one as he battled Wen Lingjun—the black and white stones clashed fiercely, locked in brutal combat.

They played fast games, moving stones while conversing.

“The world is once again ablaze with war.”

“I never imagined Jiang Yuan would die by Jiang Gao’s sword—how strange and unpredictable the turn of events.”

Yan Daiqing’s expression was complex: after ascending the throne, Jiang Yuan gradually shed his disguise, his hidden desires expanding rapidly, as had Chen Dingye’s in his early days; coupled with certain psychological influences and manipulation, his drain on Chen Guo’s strength was severe.

For the people of Chen Guo, this was certainly not good.

But for Qin, it meant the enemy was weakening itself—something that, for the Tiance Prefecture’s Qilin Army, whose foundational strength had never matched Chen Guo’s three-century reign, was a tremendous advantage.

A man as virtuous as Hou Zhongyu.

In these past few years, as Jiang Yuan’s desires reached their peak, he was slain by Jiang Gao’s blade; aided by Wei Yi’s deliberate manipulation, Jiang Yuan’s earlier atrocities—mass executions, civilian deaths, widespread suffering—had, to some degree, transformed into Jiang Gao’s reputation.

Yet because Jiang Yuan had sworn before incense to spare those who surrendered—then slaughtered them all—his betrayal had devastated his standing in Chen Guo’s court; even now, rebel forces still rose everywhere.

Jiang Su and Wen Qingyu likely never anticipated his actions would reach such extremes.

Wen Lingjun placed a stone and said: “In the past, Wen Qingyu and Pojun watched the situation like spectators on the opposite bank of a river. Now, it’s rare to see Wen Qingyu outmaneuvered.”

“This time, his calculation was flawed—he allowed Jiang Su to use Jiang Yuan’s life to hone Jiang Gao, making him sharp and exposed.”

“Though it did achieve the desired result—draining Chen Guo’s strength—it was only a minor tactical victory, a major strategic failure. Grand Master Jiang Su is truly the foremost figure of the past several centuries.”

“This round is eight to two.”

“Grand Master Jiang Su gets eight points; Wen Qingyu gets two.”

A crisp snap.

Yan Daiqing pressed a stone firmly onto the board, the sound echoing; Wen Lingjun fell silent and looked at him. Yan Daiqing’s expression was calm: “The matter is not settled. The final outcome remains unknown.”

“That fellow Wen Qingyu has always been cunning—he takes one step, sees three ahead.”

“How can you judge his strategy a failure based only on this moment?”

Wen Lingjun chuckled.

He knew that among the Tiance Prefecture’s strategists, Wen Qingyu and Yan Daiqing, though often quarreling and even coming to blows, were in truth inseparable—best friends among all the strategists.

If Wen Lingjun here called Wen Qingyu a scoundrel,

Yan Daiqing would nod in agreement.

If Wen Lingjun called Wen Qingyu a schemer who only betrayed others, Yan Daiqing would pour him drink after drink, enthusiastically recounting every vile deed of that shameless man—enough to talk for three days and nights, seething with rage.

But if Wen Lingjun claimed Wen Qingyu’s strategy had failed, been crushed,

Yan Daiqing would grow displeased.

He would insist on arguing it out.

Wen Lingjun merely smoothed things over, gently saying: “Still, even a tiger does not eat its own cubs. Jiang Su used Jiang Yuan as a whetstone, forcing Jiang Gao to endure unbearable conditions until he finally snapped—and killed his own brother, thereby transforming.”

“How many civilians died in this scheme?”

“Such a strategy is ruthlessly brutal.”

“Even Wen Qingyu, called the Poison Strategist, may not have foreseen Jiang Su going this far.” As he spoke, he recalled the legendary barbecue master from the Western Regions.

Wen Lingjun suddenly felt that last remark was unnecessary.

Ah, no—the one who burned down the Tangxiang royal city wasn’t Wen Qingyu.

It was Western Yan Daiqing.

Wen Lingjun raised his teacup, thinking these thoughts, gazing at Yan Daiqing—and smiled. He smiled, yet gave no reason; yet this expression stirred Yan Daiqing’s suspicion.

Yan Daiqing said: “What are you smiling at, Wen Lingjun?”

Yan Daiqing sensed sharply:

“Are you thinking about something regarding the Western Yan Daiqing?!”

Wen Lingjun smiled: “No.”

Yan Daiqing said: “Then why are you laughing?”

Wen Lingjun’s lips curved, then suppressed the smile: “I merely recalled the Southwest Yan Daiqing.”

Yan Daiqing’s forehead twitched.

He wanted to hurl his go stone onto the table and curse: How many Yan Daiqings are there in this world, in this Tiance Prefecture?!

Seeing the gentle scholar’s face—furious, teeth clenched, but with no target nearby to vent on, and unwilling to drag others into it—he could only hold it in—Wen Lingjun burst into laughter.

Yan Daiqing gritted his teeth.

“Play!”

“Hahaha, fine, fine, let’s play.”

“Just to be clear, Daqing—I didn’t say anything about the Western Yan Daiqing.” As Wen Lingjun rearranged the stones, he still teased.

Yan Daiqing only said:

“Let it be.”

At that moment, loud laughter echoed from outside. Yan Daiqing raised an eyebrow, sniffed the air: “Strong wine scent—even Wen Lingjun’s sleeve fragrance can’t mask it.”

This left Wen Lingjun helpless.

“Feng Xiao… Feng Xiao…”

The man had not yet arrived, but the wine scent had already arrived.

Sure enough, after only a few stone taps, a loud laugh rang out—and a man burst into their game room. Though not tall, his bearing was exceptionally free and unrestrained: it was Feng Xiao, one of the Nine Sons of the Xuegong.

Even now, Feng Xiao still held a wine jug.

Yan Daiqing glanced—it was only a third full.

Clearly, the man had been drinking heavily all the way here.

Wen Lingjun said: “In the Tiance Prefecture, Feng Xiao, you should drink less.”

Feng Xiao strode over with his flask, laughing loudly: “Good news has come! Otherwise, how could I drink in broad daylight? If you two heard this news, you’d be overjoyed and drown yourselves in wine.”

Feng Xiao set down the jug, then pulled something from his robe and placed it on the table.

It was a letter.

Feng Xiao stepped back two paces, bowed with open hands, and declared cheerfully: “It’s from our own Qilin Army’s Tiance Prefecture scribe—Master Wen He, Wen Qingyu.”

“Wen Qingyu’s letter?”

Wen Lingjun was startled, reaching to read it.

Yan Daiqing had already risen, snatched the letter, frowned, and as he broke the seal, muttered: “Let’s see what this scoundrel has to say now!” Both Wen Lingjun and Yan Daiqing read it—and their expressions changed slightly.

Wen Qingyu’s letter bore an unusually sharp tone.

On the front, only four large characters:

【THE TIME IS NOW】!

On the back, a brief memorial.

Yan Daiqing and Wen Lingjun’s gazes turned instantly sharp.

Wen Lingjun murmured those four words, recalling the Qilin Army’s recent strategy, and sighed deeply: “Daqing, just now I said Jiang Su’s strategy was ruthless and unparalleled—even a man like Wen Qingyu couldn’t see through it.”

“Now I was wrong.”

“I should have said: even if Jiang Su’s strategy is ruthless and unparalleled, Wen Qingyu still sensed it—he may not have grasped every detail, but he certainly prepared.”

“His cruelty may not surpass Jiang Su’s.”

“But as the foremost strategist of this generation, he has truly reached the pinnacle.”

Wen Lingjun’s face glowed with admiration—but Yan Daiqing’s lip twitched.

He couldn’t tell whether Wen Lingjun was praising—or subtly mocking.

The feeling was too subtle.

He lowered his head to read the letter, pretending he hadn’t heard a word.

Yet the letter bore only clear, concise words:

【Every strategy has three tiers—superior, middle, inferior—like Lingjun. But Pojun is different; his pride means every strategy he proposes is superior. I am different: what I call a strategy is merely two words.】

【Afraid of death.】

Before the northern lake, Wen Qingyu sat cross-legged, still fishing, one hand propping his cheek, the other watching ripples spread across the water’s surface. Since his sister’s death, he had grown even more afraid of dying.

In this chaotic world, how does one avoid death?

Even the most invincible martial arts of this age can lead to death through other means; only by understanding everyone’s intentions can one find that single thread of survival amid countless possibilities.

Then let us say: the world is divided in two, yet the four corners remain unsettled.

How should Grand Tutor Jiang Su act?

The lake rippled, those ripples spreading outward, deepening into the lake’s dark depths, extending across the land, slowly dissipating, reflected in Wen Qingyu’s eyes.

All colors around him slowly faded, sinking into a deep, ink-black hue.

The world itself was hollow, like a go board!

Wen Qingyu sat at the center of this ink-black ripple, at the intersection of the world’s great currents, his gaze calm.

【He will choose Jiang Yuan.】

【He will choose Jiang Gao.】

【He will choose to declare himself.】

【He will choose to fight recklessly, relying on sheer numbers.】

Each ripple was like a thought, each expansion a fleeting idea—until finally, one possibility surfaced in his heart: 【Jiang Su sacrifices Jiang Yuan to place Jiang Gao on the throne.】

Wen Qingyu’s strategy is merely exhaustive enumeration.

List every possible and impossible outcome—that is all.

What Wen Qingyu must do is choose one path among countless thoughts: Jiang Su wishes Jiang Gao to grow, but Wen Qingyu understands too well: what makes a man grow is not merely events, but time.

Within this period, intensify internal strife within the Ying state.

“Swords and smoke rise; war erupts everywhere.”

“An emperor can be replaced—even if one emperor is sacrificed as an offering, to awaken another emperor’s imperial heart through such bloody rites, such a bargain might be worth it. But—but…”

Wen Qingyu’s gaze seemed to see distant battlefields, the emperor, Jiang Su, Jiang Gao, the sacrificial Jiang Yuan, piles of white bones, and the chaos of the world.

“The people’s hearts are corrupted—and cannot be restored in a short time.”

“Jiang Su. Jiang Su.”

“Your eyes see only heroes and great men, emperors and generals. You have never seen the common folk, have you? You, such a man—a tyrant, ruthless, utterly self-righteous. But how convenient.”

“It is far too convenient.”

The gentle, tranquil youth murmured:

“I am the same.”

Wen Qingyu stoked the internal strife of the Ying state, yet even he, ruthless as he was, had not truly foreseen the massacre of starving civilians. The lake rippled. Wen Qingyu gently lifted his fishing rod and whispered: “The Ying state’s moment of transformation has come. After this, you will have your perfect world.”

“But the people’s hearts have already fallen.”

“You probably won’t care about this as much as my lord does.”

“Even if policies remain unchanged, with a wise ruler, things will gradually improve, reaching the Ying state you envision—strong enough to contend for the throne. But at this moment, it is the Ying state’s weakest.”

“You use the nation’s strength and its people to breed a monster, draining the state’s vitality. When Jiang Gao ascends, he will correct the chaos—but that takes time. Once hearts are corrupted, they cannot be easily mended. The moment your monster matures is the moment you are weakest.”

“You wait for Jiang Gao to transform and rise.”

“I wait for Jiang Yuan to exhaust the people’s trust.”

“We are alike, you and I—you ignore the people, fixating on heroes and great men. I do not…”

Wen Qingyu’s voice fell silent.

After a long while, he smiled lightly:

“If I had not met my lord, would I have become just like you?”

“Ah, then I truly owe gratitude to what happened ten years ago—when my lord, at fifteen, brought me here with a jar of a thousand-day wine and a treasure rope. Otherwise, would not Wen Qingyu have become just like you?”

“Now, Grand Tutor, you and I should both thank Jiang Yuan.”

“Jiang Yuan gives you a wise ruler: Jiang Gao.”

“He gives my lord the people’s heart: a righteous cause to rescue the suffering.”

“Ruler, people, emperor, heart—what matters most? Let this final battle decide. But between you and me, it is six to four. At last, the moment of confrontation arrives—you have surpassed me, but only slightly.”

“As for strategy, between you and me, it is merely mutual utility.”

He raised his bamboo rod, and as if on that day, with Yuan Shitong and Xue Tianxing beside him, he spoke softly the same words:

“The world is vast; heroes arise everywhere.”

“Do not underestimate the people of this world.”

He had finished speaking.

“Jiang Su.”

The fish bites. My lord, this is all I can do.

………………

Qin lacks time.

Yet since Qin Wu ascended as emperor, four years have passed. Under Yan Daiqing and the Tiance Prefecture’s governance, the entire Qin realm has rapidly improved its logistics, increased grain reserves, and forged weapons and armor.

Four years ago, Qin was as poor as its emperor.

It had neither foundation nor legitimacy to launch a great war.

But now, four years later, their granaries are full, their logistics abundant.

The Qin Emperor has led by example, personally commanding the Qilin Army at the frontlines of the world’s conflicts, holding back Jiang Su while boosting the morale of both the Qilin Army and the Tiance Prefecture.

Jiang Su sees the world, sees the myriad heroes.

He sees heroes as the driving force of this age, riding the tide of battle.

Thus, with the spirit of a tyrant, he places his pieces: using the people as sacrifice, the emperor’s blood as the incubator, to forge Jiang Gao into a ruler of immense spirit in this chaotic age—then let this wise monarch reverse the tide, unify strength, and reach the war’s final chapter.

The Tiance lineage changed because of one man.

He walked ahead, and it was he who, over a decade ago, pulled each of them up, drawing them gradually to his side until they became what they are today.

He saw the common people, saw the tide of destiny.

One sees heroes as the makers of history.

The other sees the people’s hearts as the foundation of mortal existence.

Jiang Su waits for the noble to transform; the Qin Emperor waits for unity from top to bottom.

The world waits for an ending.

………………

Summer had arrived.

On the battlefield where Qin and Ying faced each other, banners flew. Li Guanyi stood atop a simple watchtower before the camp, gazing afar as the old Soothsayer huffed and puffed his way up. “You brat, what are you still doing?”

Seeing Li Guanyi lift his gaze, the old Soothsayer recalled: in the first year of Qin Emperor’s reign, Li Guanyi was twenty-two.

Now, in the fourth year of Qin Emperor’s reign, Li Guanyi is twenty-five.

He appears far more composed, his royal bearing and dignity fully evident. Yet Yaoguang still looks like a silver-haired girl. The old Soothsayer longed to grab the white-haired Array Master’s head and demand: what did that old man feed Yaoguang?

Once, Chen Dingye had ordered Hou Zhongyu to brew an elixir of eternal youth for the imperial harem.

Chen Dingye’s empress had taken it. The old alchemist, using Hou Zhongyu’s formula, had brewed a few pills—but their core was forged from countless years of refining earth essences, Qilin blood, and other beast bloods, unique and irreplaceable.

It was one-of-a-kind.

It had been exhausted.

It could not be replicated.

Unless they dug up Hou Zhongyu.

Li Guanyi gave this pill to his aunt, to the eldest daughter, and to the silver-haired girl.

He gave one to Li Zhao, his comrade-in-arms through life and death, who had marched beside him across the grasslands.

Only Nangong Wumeng was left out.

Only after being forced under the tyrannical Qin Emperor’s threat to sign a contract—promising to find vast gold mines or never leave—did she receive one pill. The rest, Li Guanyi sealed away.

Aunt Chen Qingyan possessed peerless martial arts; she needed no such pill to preserve her beauty.

Li Guanyi saved one for Ning’er.

If this child never achieved supreme martial arts, the pill would serve her.

As for himself—he had reached the legendary realm of martial cultivation, still in his prime, his qi and blood vigorous, aging naturally slow—he had never taken it. Now, leaning on the watchtower, he merely smiled at the old Soothsayer’s question:

“See him off.”

“See him off? Who?”

The old Soothsayer was puzzled, then followed Li Guanyi’s gaze—and understood. The Ying army’s formation had shifted; after nearly three years of fighting, they were retreating.

The old Soothsayer murmured: “Jiang Su… is retreating.”

His eyes trembled.

The old Soothsayer, who had always joked and cursed without a care, now had no trace of amusement. All his lightness vanished. After years of war, his usual catchphrase had been:

“Damn it, why must we keep fighting?”

“Why must they trap this old man here? You young ones have no shame.”

“Just finish it already.”

But now, as this day arrived, the old Soothsayer felt only shock.

Even a trace of fear.

The final storm of this three-hundred-year chaos gathered in these two men: the Grand Tutor of Ying Guo, and the Emperor of Qin. They faced each other in battle array, yet behind them stood the court, the northern frontier, the western lands, the battlefield, the martial world—the ministers and generals, the very heart of Tianxia ’s rivalry.

Jiang Su withdrew his troops and no longer cared about the Qin Emperor Li Guanyi; yet Li Guanyi had already guessed Jiang Su’s intent to retreat—and he did not pursue as he once would have, following the old maxim: “When the enemy is weary, strike; when they retreat, advance.”

There was only one possibility.

The coming conflict could no longer be resolved by merely these hundred thousand troops.

To linger here is meaningless!

Like drawing back the fist before striking—gathering momentum, then delivering a crushing blow. Minor skirmishes could not settle the vast realm; this border friction, merely a warm-up, had finally ended.

These years of strategic stalemate.

Both sides waited, waiting at the strategic level.

The Qin Emperor needed time for his rear to recuperate and grow more grain; Jiang Su, meanwhile, sought to heal the losses inflicted by two campaigns after Jiang Wanxiang’s death, and to guide Jiang Gao’s transformation.

Now, there was no need to wait any longer.

The next war would be the final one.

From within the Ying Guo encampment, an old man in a dark cloak, dignified and imposing, rode forth on a divine steed. Jiang Su regarded the Qin Emperor coldly; Li Guanyi looked at Jiang Su and said: “Jiang Su, your head remains on your shoulders—for now.”

Jiang Su replied coldly: “After the Qin Emperor dies, I shall honor him properly.”

The final “greeting.”

Xue Shen, who loved this moment most, was restrained.

Guan Shier directly removed the man’s mechanical mouth apparatus.

Solving the problem at its root.

Jiang Su stared at Li Guanyi, his final adversary, saying nothing more, no longer fearing Li Guanyi’s pursuit. A large-scale campaign loomed ahead; with these few troops, the Qin Emperor had penetrated deep into Ying Guo—he risked repeating the death of the Divine Martial King.

Li Guanyi did not pursue.

He merely watched as Jiang Su, the last adversary of Ying Guo, rode away on his divine steed.

Xue Shen finally beat up Guan Shier, repaired his mechanical mouth, and said: “Why not chase after him?”

“Isn’t it said: ‘Pursue the fleeing enemy with the last of your strength’?”

The Qin Emperor laughed lightly: “Even the fleeing enemy has limits. On this border, Jiang Su’s forces move slowly. Chasing them is useless. This battlefield cannot kill him. Besides, with these troops, entering the empire’s heartland would be suicide.”

“Our strategic objective has already succeeded.”

“It is time to return home.”

The Qin Emperor leapt lightly from the arrow tower, brushing dust from his hands.

That day, three earth-shaking rumors spread.

First: after years of standoff, neither Qin nor Ying launched a decisive battle nor sent desperate reinforcements—both sides withdrew.

Second: Jiang Gao ascended the throne; General Gao Xiang returned.

Grand Tutor Jiang Su, upon Gao Xiang’s return, led his troops back to the capital.

Meanwhile, the Qin Emperor Li Guanyi, who had personally led campaigns for years, returned to Jiangnan.

These rumors rode the winds, arriving in Jiangnan even sooner.

They reached the ears of the woman in the Changfeng Tower, whose hair had long since reached her waist.

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