Chapter 562

The chaos of the world’s war erupted in an instant; the generals each received their orders and withdrew. Li Guanyi’s expression was calm as he gazed far off for a long while, then Chen Wenmian and others also left. Li Zhao waved his hand, dismissing his battle commanders ahead of him.

The Emperor of Qin gazed upon the world.

Li Zhao merely watched him from behind.

After a long while, Li Guanyi came back to himself and said, “What are you looking at, Zhaowen?”

Li Zhao looked at his back and smiled: “I’m watching the world.” Her hands were clasped behind her back, composed and unrestrained, yet her fingers lightly pinched the edge of her sleeve, her nails pressing into the fine fabric of her battle robe. She drew in a slow breath, then exhaled it gradually—three times.

Then, with a demeanor of ease and grace, she stepped forward.

As she stepped, her heel touched the ground, feeling the contact between foot and earth. She walked lightly, her sleeves fluttering down as she stood shoulder to shoulder with the Emperor of Qin, appearing utterly ordinary, and said: “How many years have passed? That poor little herbalist from back then now nearly holds the world.”

“No wonder in this world is more wondrous than this.”

Li Guanyi said: “Indeed, many things have changed.”

Li Zhao noticed the Emperor’s voice was calm, lacking the usual lightheartedness. She lifted her eyes slightly, studying his profile, and said: “This battle, Guanyi, you will surely triumph.”

Li Guanyi said: “There is no one in this world who is destined to win.”

“We are here, everyone is here—there is no turning back. We must win. That is all we can do with human effort.”

Li Zhao smiled lightly: “A fine phrase—human effort.”

“So-called: do your utmost, then leave the rest to Heaven.”

Li Guanyi said: “Not quite. When I was young, I trained under Master Zu in Daoist numerology and received Daoist talismans—I was, in a sense, a Daoist disciple. Yet today, all people who cultivate Dao only grasp its surface: ‘non-action.’”

“They do not know that pure non-action is merely an escape—a way to tell oneself: non-action, no struggle. But they do not realize non-action still has a second half: ‘nothing is beyond action.’”

“This vast world—in my eyes, non-action means nothing is unactionable. It is unbound.”

Though young, he had endured storms, gained and lost, walked the battlefields of this world. His realm of martial legend was no longer ordinary. Li Zhao said: “If so, even if you never claimed the world, becoming a wandering Daoist swordsman would suit you well—you’ve reached a realm no less than that of the old Daoist master.”

The Emperor of Qin said: “The Confucians say all people possess compassion.”

Li Zhao turned her face to him and smiled: “So?”

He replied: “It is simply because you and I have seen this chaotic age, and our hearts stirred. We saw someone hiding their back from the people. Others, like you and me, saw it—and could never let it go.”

“The Daoists say: dare not be first in the world.”

“The Confucians say: when it comes to benevolence, do not yield.”

“The Buddhists say: all phenomena are karmic fate.”

“It seems our kind are ultimately rooted in Confucianism—hence even Daoists draw their swords and descend the mountain, and even Buddhists bare their wrathful eyes.”

Li Zhao lowered her gaze slightly, smiling at the Emperor of Qin, whispering inwardly: “Yes. But many others in this chaos rise up to become kings and tyrants. They have not done so only because, on their path to power, they met you—a little herbalist.”

“The herbalist heals the world.”

“Surveying ten thousand things, he takes the people as one.”

“A fine name.”

Li Guanyi said: “What did you say?”

Li Zhao smiled: “I said your name is pleasant to hear.”

Li Guanyi said: “Of course—it was given by my parents. Probably because ‘Wanli, Guanyi’ rolls off the tongue easily. My father likely had little education—he even learned warfare on the battlefield.”

Li Zhao couldn’t help but laugh: “But you are different. You studied under Master Wenzhong and trained under Master Zu. Your martial arts are eclectic, yet you’ve forged your own path. Your name must have been chosen with deliberate originality.”

In this sentence lay all Li Zhao’s hidden courage.

On the battlefield, the world-renowned general, bold and heroic, sometimes grew timid. Li Guanyi may or may not have heard the hidden meaning in her words—he quickly laughed it off: “By the way, after our battle against the Wolf King in the Western Regions, one of my Six Steeds was killed. When we buried him, you and I made three vows.”

“First: that you accept Xiyicheng when the world descends into chaos.”

“Second: that when the Red Emperor dies, and your spirit is unsettled, you accompany me to wander and clear your mind.”

Li Guanyi looked at Li Zhao: “So this time, you’re invoking the third vow?”

Before the Tiance Prefecture, Li Zhao smiled at the man before her.

She might, as she had hoped many times before, speak of marriage.

At first, she merely admired him; later, they became kindred spirits. But gradually, her gaze became drawn to him. The world was vast, yet Li Zhao made no secret of her heart—she was, after all, one of the greatest talents of this age.

Only a world-class genius could ever catch her eye.

Yet at this moment, she did not speak that vow. Was it because she was certain she could achieve those things herself? Or was it that even a proud phoenix like her feared his refusal?

Or perhaps—it was her righteous heart, her ambition that swallowed the heavens.

That was where she and Li Guanyi were alike—and yet different.

She simply reached out, clenched her fist, and struck once against his chest, then stepped back with a smile: “Then, the third vow, Emperor of Qin.”

“You must win the final victory.”

“You must forge peace for the world.”

“You must fulfill your lifelong vow.”

Li Zhao drew back her hand, turned with ease, clasped her hands behind her back, stretched languidly—her relaxed posture softened her martial vigor—and said: “As for what I want myself, I will take it by my own hand!”

“Well then, what I meant to say has been said. The promises and vows have been spoken. I, the Duke, must now gather the troops and proceed as planned. Emperor of Qin, let us drink after our great victory.”

She exhaled, stepped forward, her hair fluttering in the wind. Her phoenix eyes flickered toward Li Guanyi, her smile gentle as she whispered: “Martial legend is not so hard.”

“Our lifespans are long.”

“Our story is far from over.”

“My Emperor of Qin.”

Li Zhao departed with ease and composure.

Hidden outside the Tiance Prefecture, the logistics general Changsun Wuchou clutched his heart and stomach. This veteran, aged forty-seven, pressed his hand to his chest and sighed upward, speechless with emotion.

“Finally, finally.”

“After more than a decade of chasing this, there’s finally some progress.”

“My old stomach doesn’t hurt anymore!”

He looked up and saw Li Zhao’s dangerous smile: “General Changsun, what are you doing here?”

Changsun Wuchou: “…………”

His lips twitched. “I—I was just lost. Lost!”

“Ahahaha, that’s right—Master Yandaiqing’s office isn’t here! Of course not! No wonder I couldn’t find him! Hahaha…”

Changsun Wuchou fled.

Though gifted, at forty-seven he remained only at the Sixth Heaven realm. He had broken through one level in ten years, but the Master realm was like a heavenly chasm—hard to cross.

In past centuries, there were fewer Masters than in these last decades.

All top thirty generals on the Divine General List were Masters.

It was an utterly terrifying roster.

Only a great central power, after centuries of relentless war, could forge such a situation and spirit—exhausting the heroism of centuries, the blood of the people, to create this brilliant, magnificent age.

Li Zhao let Changsun Wuchou go to prepare the logistics.

Standing alone beneath heaven and earth, she felt slightly warm. She exhaled, lifted a hand to brush aside a strand of hair beside her ear—her earlobes were already flushed red.

“The weather is so hot.”

………………

In the final three days, during these three years, Pojun had already arranged troop movements. The generals went to handle their duties. Li Guanyi laid down his weapons, returned to the Murong Mansion, and spent time with his aunt, Murong Qiushui.

“Aaaah! Father, adoptive father!!!”

“Take this sword!”

In the Murong courtyard, a little girl of five or six, with two pigtails, gripped a wooden sword, formed a sword gesture, and lunged at Li Guanyi ahead, stepping in the Seven Stars method—yet it was the old Chen family’s Wind-Chasing Step.

Her martial foundation was not yet solid, but she was clearly from a renowned school.

It was the Divine Art of Crimson Dragon Shaking the Nine Provinces, personally taught by Yue Qianfeng.

That pure Crimson Dragon qi was flawless. When Yue Qianfeng taught this girl martial arts, she was only three or four. Yue Qianfeng, a mighty hero who had survived countless battles, was fearless. Yet when her tiny hand pressed into his palm, it made his eyes redden.

Back then, Ji Yanzhong had passed the Crimson Dragon qi—the supreme explosive martial art—to a small bandit. That small bandit became a world-renowned general. In a crumbling temple, he passed the art to a small herbalist.

Time flowed, the world turned.

Now, Yue Qianfeng passed the art to Chang Ning’er.

The story was complete.

Old Yue Qianfeng wiped his tears, then returned to battle. The little girl grew up beside Murong Qiushui, training in martial arts and swordplay. When she saw Li Guanyi return, she knew him as her adoptive father, drew her long sword, and charged. Li Guanyi, clad in blue robes, one hand behind his back, held a willow branch and easily blocked her sword strike.

An old man nearby somersaulted and laughed: “Good! Good!”

“Good Ning’er! Poke him under the armpit! This move is ‘Immortal Points the Way’—normally aimed at vital points, but you’re still too short, so you poke his tickle spot.”

“Brilliant! Brilliant! That move was perfect!”

It was old Chen Chengbi. He and Chen Qingyan had stayed in the south to protect Murong Qiushui. Chen Qingyan and Murong Qiushui had known each other since youth, once entangled in disputes—but now, after countless storms, those pasts had faded like mist. Their relationship had grown warmer.

Now, under the bright summer sun, when the afternoon heat had lessened, the Emperor of Qin trained with Chang Ning’er. Having grown up beside Murong Qiushui and under the guidance of old Chen Chengbi, Chang Ning’er’s nature was lively and spirited.

Exhausted, panting, she still clung tightly to her wooden sword.

Seeing her tired, Li Guanyi deliberately relaxed his guard. The girl’s eyes lit up. She stepped forward, swung her sword horizontally—and struck his sleeve. Li Guanyi played along with a dramatic “Ah!” and a look of regret.

The girl burst into joy: “I won!”

Li Guanyi played along: “Yes, yes—Little Ning’er, the heroine, is mighty.”

The girl crossed her arms, lifted her chin proudly, turned, and ran toward Murong Qiushui. She sprinted, leaped, and landed with a thump in Murong Qiushui’s arms, nuzzling: “Grandma, Grandma! I beat Father!”

Murong Qiushui pinched the girl’s ear with her finger, half-scolding:

“Grandma? Grandma? You’re calling me old for no reason.”

She had taken the Elixir of Eternal Youth; her appearance had not changed. Though she scolded, her eyes held tenderness and affection. Chang Ning’er long ago understood Murong Qiushui’s nature—she curled up like a tiny kitten, nuzzling against her.

Li Guanyi set down the willow branch and strolled slowly across the grass, his expression gentle. This was the utmost joy of human kinship. After her play, Chang Ning’er was exhausted and fell into a deep sleep beside Murong Qiushui.

Li Guanyi cooked a meal himself and chatted with his aunt; Murong Qiushui recounted many past events, describing how young Li Guanyi had been far quieter than Changning’er, how Changning’er was carefree yet lacked Li Guanyi’s quiet determination—how, as a child, Li Guanyi had held a silent fire within him, never speaking.

When Changning’er first arrived at age two, she often cried out for her parents.

But time dulls everything.

The time she had spent in Jiangnan now far outlasted her earlier years in Zhongzhou City; added to the fact that children under two rarely retain memories, the parents she had wept for daily upon arrival had sunk deep into the furthest recesses of her mind.

Murong Qiushui gently stroked Changning’er’s cheek—the little girl had just fallen asleep, her face plump and soft—and said, “She used to ask me about her parents, but lately, she’s asked less and less…”

“What can a child of just over two remember?”

“I wonder if the Red Emperor feels the same—hoping she can let go of these things, free herself from the weight of her family and its so-called glorious past, and live her life by her own will and thoughts.”

Li Guanyi looked at Changning’er: “Perhaps. Chang Le Chang Ning—I hope she can live this life in peace.”

Murong Qiushui nodded. After a long silence, she asked, “Is war coming?”

Li Guanyi turned to Murong Qiushui.

The woman smiled faintly: “Don’t think you can hide it from me. Don’t forget who raised you from age three to this point. What could you possibly keep from your aunt?”

Murong Qiushui seemed to smile, yet sighed:

“The world is in turmoil. Since you chose this path, you’ve rarely returned to spend time with me. When you do come back, you’re off again in a hurry to fight elsewhere, leaving me in constant dread.”

“Tell me this: you say we can’t be together because you want to ensure others can reunite with their loved ones.”

“But I know—you and your great-grandfather are the same.”

“You always have something to do. Until it’s done, you can’t rest…”

Murong Qiushui looked at the young man before her, smiled lightly, stood, and beckoned to Li Guanyi. The mighty Emperor of Qin bowed his head; the woman gently brushed his hair and said, “Little Li, I won’t beg you to stay like other elders do, crying and shouting.”

“A true man’s ambition spans the four corners of the world.”

“But promise me—you’ll come back alive, all right?”

Murong Qiushui whispered, voice breaking: “I have only you left.”

Li Guanyi hummed in assent, raised his head, and gently clasped Murong Qiushui’s hand: “I swear to you, Auntie—I will return.”

Time flies with kin. Three days passed like a dream. The three armies stood in formation. The Emperor of Qin personally entered the camp, distributing the ancient jade wine he had seized from Chen Huang’s palace among his troops.

Li Guanyi donned armor and battle robe, standing atop the reviewing platform.

He raised his cup: “Do you still remember who I am?”

The three armies roared in unison: “Long live the Emperor of Qin!”

The roar surged like tide and thunder. Li Guanyi felt dazed—he recalled how, years ago outside Zhenbei City, those three thousand men had looked at him with contempt and defiance. He smiled, raised his cup toward the army—

—and toward his past self, toward old friends.

Watching those who had left, he murmured:

“Comrades, drink!”

The soldiers drank in unison, bold and grand. The Emperor of Qin had intended to smash his cup on the ground like a martial arts hero to stir morale—but as he raised his hand, a young soldier whispered:

“Your Majesty, don’t smash it.”

“We’re so many—if we all smash ours, how much will that cost? The logistics troops will have a hard time cleaning up.”

The young soldier’s squad leader’s head throbbed.

He’d wanted to say the same thing.

But saying it now—wouldn’t that crush the army’s spirit?

Yet the Emperor of Qin froze, then burst into loud laughter: “Hahaha! Right! Don’t smash it!” The young soldier scratched his head and grinned sheepishly. The entire army laughed. The mood grew warm and relaxed, yet beneath it lay a heavy, inevitable tide.

The Emperor of Qin set his cup aside, lifted the divine weapon beside him, and said:

“This war shall bring peace—as always!”

“I…”

“No, Your Majesty!”

“Will lead the charge. I, the Emperor, shall be the spearhead!”

“Comrades—follow me!”

The three armies, having drunk their wine, roared in unison:

“Long live our Emperor!!”

Li Guanyi said: “When we subdue the world and establish a great age of peace, there shall be no more suffering from war!”

The three armies shouted as one: “Long live Great Qin!!!”

The Emperor of Qin sheathed his divine weapon and whispered: “Long live the people.”

“Beat the drums. Advance!”

………………

In the imperial palace of Ying State, Eastern Capital.

Jiang Gao worked day and night, barely sleeping, striving to restore Ying State’s strength. But Jiang Yuan’s recklessness had surpassed even Wen Qingyu and Jiang Su’s expectations, rendering the Ying Emperor’s attempts to pacify the rebellious populace nearly useless.

Whenever someone entertained such thoughts, another would rebuke:

“Have you forgotten the thirty thousand buried alive?”

And that thought vanished instantly.

After finishing state affairs and calming the people’s hearts, Jiang Gao felt exhausted. Someone brought him a ginseng soup; he drank it weakly, barely regaining his strength. Jiang Cai flipped through the archives and said: “In just a few years, Jiang Yuan has plunged the entire nation’s morale into chaos.”

“But I’ve reviewed the records. This shift didn’t happen by chance—it was fueled by external forces.”

“A certain man from Saibei…”

Jiang Cai’s voice halted, her eyes fixed on the name in the document.

She fell silent. The brilliant strategist, a master of rhetoric, suddenly found herself unable to utter those three words.

Jiang Gao asked, puzzled: “Saibei what?”

After Jiang Gao pressed several times, Jiang Cai finally said:

“Saibei, Yan Daiqing.”

Jiang Gao froze.

Then, as if amused, he laughed.

But the laughter held only bitterness: “Yan Daiqing, hahaha—what a Yan Daiqing! No—how many Yan Daiqings are there now? Hahaha, Cai-jie, tell me—when future generations look back at this chaotic age of heroes, what will they think when they find that every major turning point always has a Yan Daiqing? Hahaha, cough, cough… Isn’t it as if the world’s talent is one dan, and Yan Daiqing claims eight fen?”

“Or perhaps… Yan Daiqing is just a codename for an organization?”

Jiang Gao still had the wit to laugh.

“But how did this Yan Daiqing do it?”

“How did he stir chaos within our Ying State?”

Jiang Cai said: “He merely used twenty-four fake pearls and Jiang Yuan’s deep-seated fears, riding the tide of circumstance. This is the work of a strategist at the level of ‘Grand Tide’—one such mind may appear only once in a hundred years.”

Jiang Cai said: “It was merely using those twenty-four fake pearl beads, along with Jiang Yuan’s deep fear, to ride the tide and stoke the flames—this is the level of strategist known as Grand Current, of whom none may arise in a hundred years.”

Jiang Gao smiled faintly: “In this chaotic age, heroes rise endlessly—and yet such figures now emerge one after another.”

Jiang Cai said: “But Master, destruction precedes renewal. It has awakened Your Majesty’s imperial heart. The Emperor of Qin’s new state is still young, its foundations weak. He is still in the phase of recuperation.”

“Our Ying State possesses vast, deep strength. Jiang Yuan’s misrule over the past three or four years can be reversed in two or three years. In another few years, our Ying State will surpass even its former glory.”

“Vast territory, three centuries of imperial legacy, heroes abound, generals like clouds.”

“At that time, we will have no fear of the Emperor of Qin. That is the Master’s resolve.”

“At that time, he did not fear the Qin Emperor—that was the Grand Tutor’s resolve.”

Suddenly, a sharp voice shattered the silence. A general rushed into the palace: “Urgent, Your Majesty!”

Jiang Gao leapt to his feet, stepping forward: “What is it?!”

The general delivered his report. Exhausted Jiang Gao and composed Jiang Cai both froze.

The general reported something, and both the weary Jiang Gao and the composed Jiang Cai froze instantly.

“The Emperor of Qin, Li Guanyi, leads a million-strong army.”

“He has already crossed the Great River!”

"Now, we've crossed the Great River!"

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