Chapter 563: Li Guanyi versus Jiang Su

“What?!!!”

In that instant the news arrived, Jiang Gao’s expression changed drastically; he leapt to his feet, took several strides forward, and snatched the scroll from the soldier reporting the intelligence.

He glanced at it once, and his face turned ashen.

It was written plainly: Emperor Qin had nearly exhausted all his strength.

Even if the reported million-strong army contained much exaggeration and hollow posturing, at least fifty thousand elite troops remained, led personally by Emperor Qin—the so-called greatest general under heaven—creating a vast, overwhelming momentum like shattering jade and gold, its sound grim and deadly.

The tide of the world turned because of this.

Jiang Gao’s expression tightened; the tide of the world—the one weakness of his nation at this very moment—had been found by Emperor Qin: Jiang Su had broken everything to rebuild it; in Jiang Su’s eyes, after Jiang Gao’s awakening, the next several years would see Ying’s situation vastly improved over what it was now.

But that very growth into greater strength proved that now was Ying’s most vulnerable moment.

Jiang Gao, with his mortal flesh, felt the thunderous surge of the world’s tide.

In the past, Emperor Qin’s military tactics had been extremely steady, unmoving as a mountain.

But this time, his speed was terrifyingly swift.

Jiang Gao took a deep breath and said:

“Summon Grand Master Jiang Su at once!”

Jiang Cai seized the imperial decree and the intelligence report and said, “I’ll go fetch Grand Master!” Then she turned and ran out, her face pale; Jiang Gao sat upon the throne, drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself.

But controlling one’s emotions was far simpler in theory than in practice.

He sat there, his heart still pounding fiercely, his mind in turmoil.

The feeling of being crown prince was not the same as being emperor; the diligence of gradually restoring internal order after ascending the throne was worlds apart from the sudden, mountain-collapse-like assault he now faced.

He clenched his fists tightly.

He realized he was not facing the much younger Li Guanyi, but a warlord who had ridden through the chaos since youth—from Marquis Qin Wu, to King of Qin, to Emperor Qin—climbing step by step.

His experience and depth as a ruler surpassed his own.

He watched his own hands tremble slightly, calmly observing his fear, murmuring: “Is this how it feels—to stand at the very center of the world’s upheaval? Li Guanyi…”

“More than a decade ago, in Jiangzhou City, I never imagined.”

“That you and I would be the final contenders for the empire.”

He paused, voice tinged with self-mockery: “I only stand before you because of my ancestors and the Divine General Jiang Su—perhaps I am not truly your opponent at all…”

“Rather, it is my late father, Grand Master Jiang Su, and the three-hundred-year destiny of Great Ying that rest upon my shoulders—all layered together—that are your true opponents. I am merely the shadow they chose…”

“But even so.”

“Even so!”

Jiang Gao clenched his fists; the fear—deep within his soul, born of helplessness before the greatest upheaval the world had ever seen—still shook his body, yet he slowly, deliberately tightened his grip on that fear.

“I am the sovereign of Great Ying.”

His trembling hand slammed hard upon the dragon throne; intense pain dispelled hesitation and dread; Jiang Gao’s eyes regained their sharpness and said: “Let us end this chaotic age, Li Guanyi.”

“With a decisive, glorious battle.”

Jiang Su arrived swiftly at Ying’s imperial palace.

Jiang Su, the foremost military strategist of the past three hundred years, had already mobilized Ying’s entire army before retreating to the capital—stationing several corps along the southern border near Jiangnan.

Now, with a new order, these units—already advancing toward the region—responded instantly; eighty thousand troops blocked the vast frontier between Ying and Qin.

“The core of this battle is Li Guanyi.”

Jiang Su’s expression was calm; he said: “I shall go to block Li Guanyi, seal off their advance. Qin lacks sufficient depth; if this drags on, their logistics and grain supplies will falter, and morale will collapse swiftly.”

“If we can break Li Guanyi on the battlefield, it will be a great victory.”

“Even if we fail to achieve such a decisive blow, we can still blunt their momentum. Among all heroes under heaven, only Li Guanyi qualifies as a true opponent.”

Jiang Su pointed at the map of the realm, his voice steady and slow: “Moreover, when the enemy moves, it is also our opportunity.”

“With Gao Xiang, let him join me to confront Li Guanyi head-on; He Ruo, the Tiger-Catcher, and Yu Wenlie each lead ten thousand troops to sever Qin’s supply lines from the flanks.”

“If successful, we can then turn and strike Jiangnan and Qin itself.”

Jiang Gao asked: “Is this plan so direct and simple?”

Jiang Su gazed at the map and said softly: “Simple? Your Majesty, do you think military strategy is some mysterious art? It is not. True strategy is merely knowing yourself and your enemy, understanding the shifts of the tide—and with that, you win every battle.”

“Over the past centuries, heroes have fallen one by one.”

“Our generals, Emperor Qin knows well; his fierce commanders, we know just as well. We have fought to this point; the old are gone, and those left are familiar faces—we’ve clashed more than once.”

“Who is stronger, who weaker—we have a sense of it.”

“Whether we attack or defend, it is all open strategy now.”

Direct assault on Emperor Qin.

This is Jiang Su’s open strategy.

The essence: strike where the enemy must defend.

Aim straight for the enemy’s vital point.

With two supreme divine generals launching a direct assault on Emperor Qin—even if he is mighty, even if he is a legend of martial cultivation—he will suffer.

He is young, but in terms of deep cultivation, he still falls short of Jiang Su; and with the greatest archer under heaven beside us, we need not kill him outright to severely break his momentum.

When Emperor Qin’s advance halts, we drain his foundation and rear logistics; then, victory and fortune will tilt toward Ying.

Meanwhile, He Ruo, the Tiger-Catcher, and Yu Wenlie cutting from the flanks—this is the very tactic Emperor Qin once used against him in the Western Regions. Li Guanyi has been learning his strategies; the aging Divine General, even now, still learns from the younger generation.

“And… Zhenbei City…”

Jiang Su wished to tell Jiang Gao.

But at that moment, a second urgent report arrived—ten thousand miles urgent. Imperial Guards escorted a man clad in frontier armor; his face was pale, his spirit clearly pushed beyond its limit.

The two Imperial Guards slightly loosened their grip on him.

The frontier commander collapsed, nearly stumbling forward to the ground, yet he forced himself to steady his mind and offered a bloodstained scroll, his voice trembling with fear:

“Report: Northern frontier intelligence!”

Everyone’s expressions shifted.

Jiang Gao clenched his fists.

The man’s breath came ragged, his eyes reflecting candlelight—the flickering flame mirrored the terror within him—and he shouted:

“Yue Pengwu’s Yue Army and Qilin Army, totaling one hundred fifty thousand, have abandoned Zhenbei City. Our senior general has been slain in battle; the enemy’s momentum is like a spearhead, advancing straight toward our capital! We beg for reinforcements!”

Jiang Gao froze, instantly understanding.

Jiang Su’s strategy was to deploy eighty thousand troops to forcibly intercept the leader of the enemy coalition—Emperor Qin—with Jiang Su and Gao Xiang both confronting him directly.

But now, with Yue Pengwu’s momentum, once Jiang Su departs, Yue Pengwu would surely launch an unhesitating assault on Ying’s capital.

If we fight Emperor Qin, our rear is unstable.

If we stop Yue Pengwu, Emperor Qin’s power grows.

In this situation, it is not Emperor Qin who is held back—it is Jiang Su and Gao Xiang.

Jiang Gao understood.

This was no ordinary war.

This was the war to decide the empire.

This was a war of national annihilation.

To stand still was to die; to move was to shatter heaven and earth, alarming all directions—even Emperor Qin and Jiang Su gazed at the map, assessing the military situation: among the top ten generals, Ying’s foundational strength still surpassed Qin’s.

Li Guanyi and Jiang Su; Yue Pengwu and Gao Xiang; Xue Shen versus Yu Wenlie.

If these three pairs remained evenly matched, then He Ruo, the Tiger-Catcher, clearly overshadowed Yue Qianfeng and Li Zhao; it was unthinkable that Yue Qianfeng would be forced to fight He Ruo, the world’s fourth-ranked general at his peak.

Moreover, He Ruo now carried death in his heart.

He was harder to oppose than ever before.

Even if Yue Qianfeng drained every drop of his blood and qi, he could not stop him.

Jiang Su exhaled slowly and murmured: “So this is it… One move, and the whole world moves. What a magnificent Emperor Qin—only the late Emperor Jiang Wanxiang could have matched him. Your Majesty, today we stand with the state, or perish with it.”

Jiang Gao looked at Jiang Su and nodded deeply: “Grand Master, rest assured.”

“I shall stand with Great Ying, or fall with it.”

Jiang Gao gave a slight nod.

As he stepped out, he saw Gao Xiang—though aged, still radiating the icy edge of a knight-errant—leaning against a gilded crimson pillar adorned with coiling dragons, calmly watching Jiang Su.

“No matter what, Gao Xiang.”

“Jiang Wanxiang is dead. Consider this your old vow renewed—fight once more for Great Ying.” Jiang Su’s voice was low and grim; he stood beneath the palace gate, his black cloak hanging like a solemn mountain.

Gao Xiang’s gaze was calm: “You want me to kill Emperor Qin at the critical moment?”

Jiang Su said: “You cannot kill him—even though you’ve touched the foundation of martial legend, you still cannot kill him. But your archery, as the greatest in the world, is enough to tie him down.”

“My martial skill and his are nearly equal; on this battlefield, whoever is distracted—even for an instant—may lose, and to lose may mean death.”

“This battle is about national strength.”

“Emperor Qin’s strength is insufficient; we must block him. He seeks a swift victory; if we are to win, we must never follow his rhythm. He wants speed—we delay. He wants direct combat—we drag it out. We exhaust the vigor of Qin and the Qilin Army.”

“Then, when their logistics and reserves are spent, and they are forced to retreat.”

“Only then do we strike again.”

“This is the art of seizing the enemy’s vital energy.”

“The first taboo on the battlefield is to fall into the enemy’s strategic rhythm. Once you do, even with vast armies and famed generals, you are helpless—played like a puppet, unaware of how you died.”

Jiang Su’s expression remained calm; as a supreme commander, he would never fall into the enemy’s battle rhythm. Block the troops, cover the water—this was the essence.

The old man’s face was solemn; he raised his hand, five fingers strong, enfolding the wind, and spoke slowly: “His parents died indirectly because of me; the Wolf King was slain by my hand; his friend Ji Zichang—though I did not strike him—had he not been restrained by me in the north, he would not have met that end.”

“All these karmic threads between us must come to an end.”

Whether I kill him, or he kills me.

Either way is fine.

Cause and effect manifest in myriad forms, with beginning and end.

Gao Xiang gazed down calmly; throughout his life, he had always admired the spirit of the knight-errant, but in this troubled world, how could anyone act solely according to their own whim? Even at his level, he could not escape being bound by circumstance.

Jiang Su stared into the distant sky, raised the spear Jingmie, and mobilized the front-line forces to intercept Qin Wu’s advance. He had set out from Dongdu with only a select elite because, long before this battle, he had already prepared for precisely this scenario.

………………

Outside Zhenbeixiongcheng.

The Yue banner flapped in the wind, roaring like ocean waves. The Qilin Army and the Yue family’s forces, combined, numbered over a hundred thousand, advancing swiftly toward the front. Yue Pengwu clutched Li Guanyi’s letter.

[Swift Victory].

Yue Pengwu’s expression was calm, yet he finally exhaled a sigh of relief.

He had been given an extremely important mission.

At last, he was no longer confined to defending a city or holding the rear. The world was in turmoil, and in the most critical battles, he had been forced to sit idle behind the lines. How could a famed general and commander endure such a fate?

This time, he had finally shouldered a great responsibility.

His heart was utterly exhilarated!

Yue Pengwu had never been a gentle man.

The army suddenly abandoned Zhenbeixiongcheng, leaving only a second-tier force to defend it, while the main battle corps, under Yue Pengwu’s command, formed a war formation and charged forward into combat.

Yue Pengwu personally led the charge, slaying enemy officers; the Qilin Army’s morale surged.

Because of Jiang Yuan’s death, Qin Yulong and his wife had been forced to leave the border, later retreating into seclusion among the martial world. Though Jiang Gao had slain Jiang Yuan and sent Yu Wenlie to bring Qin Yulong and his wife back,

The time had been too short.

Qin Yulong had not even arrived here yet.

The Qilin Army had already seized this critical moment and launched a full-scale assault.

Yue Pengwu looked at the pouch from Pojun Master, exhaled slowly. Pojun Master had ordered Yue Pengwu’s forces to advance the front line—but not to attack immediately. Instead, they were to use the hundred thousand troops at Zhenbeixiongcheng and the momentum of their victory over the enemy’s border army to tie down the foe.

“Tie down… a border victory is still just a tie-down.”

A flicker of unusual light passed through Yue Pengwu’s eyes.

This battlefield was no longer confined to a thousand li of territory—it was the entire world, a dynamic stage of the age. Here, they had shattered the enemy’s main army, their spearhead now pointing straight at Ying’s capital.

With fifteen thousand troops and the shattered remnants of Ying’s defeated army, if left unmanaged,

Ying would suffer another Langwang disaster.

This would sufficiently tie down Ying’s overall troop movements, creating the most crucial opportunity for the southern front, relieving some of the military pressure Jiangnan must bear.

Suddenly, banners ahead rolled like waves and clouds. Ling Pingyang, a general of the Yue family’s Beiwei Corps at the Seventh Heaven Realm, withdrew, his voice grim:

“General Yue, we’ve encountered the enemy—”

Yue Pengwu tucked the letter away.

Mounted on his divine steed, wielding the divine spear Liquan, he rode forth from the ranks.

The battlefield was grim. As the army advanced, the thunder of hooves shook the earth, the dust swirled, the air burned hot—each sensation made Yue Pengwu’s heart pound fiercely.

At last, he could fulfill his deepest ambition.

Now forty-five, Yue Pengwu stood at the peak of his martial path—on this battlefield, where he had comrades to stand beside him, a lord who charged even faster than he, an army at his back, enemies ahead, and a place to unleash his ambition.

No!

Even greater than the ambition he once held to restore Southern Chen!

True, absolute unification of the Four Seas!

How could such a grand dream, such a vast vow, not intoxicate the heart? How could it not stir heroes to spur their horses and charge forward?

In such a great war, he must be the spearhead, cleaving through thorns and brambles, advancing bravely—was this not exhilarating?

Yue Pengwu’s heart pounded.

His blood seemed to boil. The generals ahead stood solemn, parting like waves before him. The Yue banner, its base embroidered with Qilin patterns, flapped wildly behind him; the army stood grim and silent as he led them forward—only to see a vast enemy force blocking the way.

The martial aura of the soldiers rose like a storm, heavy as lead, their will as unyielding as iron.

Just as Pojun Master had planned, Yue Pengwu’s force had indeed drawn at least two hundred thousand troops away, reducing the number of Ying’s forces gathered in Jiangnan.

A coiling Azure Dragon pattern, emblazoned with two massive characters: [He Ruo].

Before the army, He Ruo Qinhu wore heavy armor, his battle robe billowing.

His eyes were closed; white hair stirred slightly beneath his golden helm.

He was very old. He practiced the martial arts of the Military School, fighting on battlefields. The martial arts of military generals differed from those of the Buddhist and Daoist schools. The latter cultivated in stillness; once they grasped their secrets, their lifespans surpassed those of ordinary martial artists.

But military generals, fighting in chaotic eras, moving across the land, though their progress was accelerated by national fortune and martial aura, inevitably accumulated hidden wounds—and their lives were short.

Not to mention he had been gravely wounded twice by Shenwu Wang.

Now, he was no longer at his peak.

He likely could not match the mighty Yue Pengwu.

He remained here to block Yue Pengwu.

There would be only one outcome—he would die in battle.

But his death would secure a great opportunity: it would free Gao Xiang, who could then join Jiang Su and the divine archer Gao Xiang to intercept and assassinate Qin Wu!

If Qin Wu died, the enemy army would be leaderless.

Even if he survived, merely wounded, it would extend the prosperity of Great Ying by a decade—by then, Qin Yulong would surely have broken through to the Ninth Heaven Realm.

If he blocked Yue Pengwu, the grand scheme would succeed; if he failed, he would die on the battlefield.

His body here must be pledged to the nation!

Yue Pengwu, you have your resolve. We have ours.

At this point, words could no longer persuade each other.

He Ruo Qinhu reached out, grasped his spear, and the divine spear roared, rippling the air. The veteran general—who had entered the Imperial Guard at age ten and spent sixty years campaigning with Jiang Wanxiang, earning countless battle merits—opened his eyes and gazed ahead.

The spiritual manifestation behind him roared, shaking heaven and earth.

He recalled Jiang Gao’s words:

“I grant you.”

“The right to die on the battlefield!”

Indeed, this was the perfect place to die in battle!

The Divine General of the Realm, He Ruo Qinhu, pointed his divine weapon forward. In that instant, he forgot life and death, forgot the past, forgot all the family ties that bound him—he stood here only for the nation, for the dream of his youth!

A true man, sacrificing himself for his country, wrapped in horsehide after death—is this not glorious?!

He Ruo Qinhu drew a deep breath, his voice thundering as he roared:

“He Ruo Qinhu stands here!”

“Yue Pengwu, dare you fight me?!”

His spiritual manifestation soared skyward, like a colossal serpent coiled across heaven and earth, capable of seizing tigers.

The ancient serpent, once companion to the Azure Dragon, would once again bear up this nation.

Yue Pengwu gripped the Liquan divine spear, his eyes blazing. Golden light and martial aura converged behind him; golden radiance exploded outward, accompanied by a piercing cry that halted the clouds—the Golden-Winged Great Peng appeared between heaven and earth.

The martial auras of both armies clashed like forged steel.

Spiritual manifestations and army souls merged, surging upward, churning the clouds above into layers, faint thunder crackling—was it the serpent that rode with the Azure Dragon, or the Great Peng that flew with the Qilin?

The world, the nation, life and death, comrades.

Just two words.

“Fight!”

BOOM!!!!

………………

Weapons clashed, emitting a grim sound.

The Qilin Army advanced with unstoppable momentum. Qin Wu personally led his troops, radiating overwhelming might. Jiang Su marched forward, while Gao Xiang remained hidden within the ranks. At the same time, Jiang Su, following military strategy, ordered Yu Wenlie and Qin Yulong to lead twenty thousand and ten thousand troops respectively.

They split a hundred li away, slicing like blades along both flanks, cutting toward Qin Wu’s rear.

Meanwhile, Jiang Su charged head-on.

Qin Wu’s army surged forward; Jiang Su’s forces were now nearly aligned. A million troops stretched across the battlefield—not merely one point of breakthrough, but countless avenues of escape.

A million troops were a single wave of martial force.

Qin Wu stood atop that wave.

Jiang Su stood atop it too.

Yet as the two vanguards neared collision, they suddenly halted—not striking at once. The immense momentum had built to its peak, yet froze at the very moment of contact.

But that overwhelming, terrifying force did not dissipate in the slightest.

Not only did it not fade—it grew even more colossal, even more suffocating, from the sudden acceleration and abrupt stop.

The crimson Qilin-cloud banner.

The ink-blue Azure Dragon banner.

Each held its ground. Though no wind blew, it seemed as if infinite gales raged, violently shaking the banners. In the distortion caused by martial aura, it appeared as if the Qilin and Azure Dragon had truly manifested.

The Qilin and Azure Dragon, now solid forms in the heavens, collided and bit at each other. The wind and thunder echoed like their roars.

Beneath the Azure Dragon banner, an old man in black armor and a dark cloak stood solemn.

Beneath the Qilin banner, Qin Wu wore his golden armor, his crimson Qilin-patterned battle robe, his hair bound by a jade hairpin. Beside him stood a silver-haired girl in the robes of an astrologer.

In the midst of battle, the silver-haired girl was unsuited for direct confrontation.

But in the face of massive armies clashing, advancing precisely through a foreign land, she did not leave him.

Just as from the very first promise.

The original pact.

Whether it was a tyrant who tore the world apart, or an emperor who crushed the chaos and ushered in peace, she would be there.

The Emperor of Qin spurred his divine steed; the silver-haired girl’s hand lowered slightly, using the star-reading arts of the Guanxing lineage to refine the army’s momentum further.

Jiang Su also spurred her horse forward.

The great banners rolled like tidal waves; above the heavens, the spirits of the army clashed.

Beneath the banners, the Emperor of Qin and Jiang Su faced each other.

One was young, the other old.

In this clash of massive armies, the fate of the world rests between you and me.

Three hundred years of grand warfare have reached their peak!

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