Chapter 567: The Moment of Victory!

When the Taiping Army arrived at the Eastern Capital, its war-generals saw a city under total, locked-down defense. General Yuan Shitong sized up the city's defenses, his expression solemn, and said:

"Military strategy says: surround with ten times the force. With thirty thousand Imperial Guards holding this great fortress of the realm, to break through it in a short period would require a full three hundred thousand troops."

Master Wen Qingyu gazed at the entrenched city, a faint gleam of something unusual in his eyes.

The strategist who plotted for all the common folk of the realm finally nodded and said:

"... Not bad."

Pang Shuiyun said: "This city will certainly fall within thirty days, but to take such a great fortress of the realm without a tenfold superiority in troops, the time required will absolutely be no less than thirty days."

"They've chosen this method to trade pieces."

"Build hard forts, fight dull battles. Knowing they are no match for us in stratagem, they've simply abandoned all tactical maneuvering and, relying on this great fortress built upon three hundred years of Ying's national fortune, mean to fight us to the death for time."

"Interesting…"

"At last, something of an emperor's spirit."

"Only such an opponent can be called worthy."

Xue Tianxing's expression grew grave. He said in a low voice: "The sovereign does not fear death — willing to pay the certainty of the city's fall after thirty days as the price, just to fight desperately for those thirty days?"

"Military Advisor, what do we do?"

Master Wen Qingyu's face seemed to carry a shade of admiration as he said:

"The Eastern Capital is, after all, the great fortress that even Yu Langwang in his day could not take in a short time. Back then, though Yu Langwang's cavalry swept all before it, and there was the reason of the God of War Jiang Su reinforcing from the rear, still it shows how impregnable this city is."

"What could I possibly do?"

Pang Shuiyun said: "【Standing Still and Sealing Oneself Off】 — yet doing so to buy time for the realm — truly not bad. Decisive, resolute, valiant; it can be called a heart full of blazing spirit. But I wonder how Mr. Wen Qingyu finds it?"

Master Wen Qingyu thought for a moment, then said: "If I must give my assessment, it is four characters."

Pang Shuiyun said: "Which four?"

"Courage commendable."

Pang Shuiyun said: "Do you have a plan?"

Master Wen Qingyu nodded and swept his sleeve: "General Yuan Shitong, please lay siege to this Eastern Capital."

"Spread the word — Yan Daiqing of the Western Regions is here, and he intends to —"

His voice was calm, and in the depths of his eyes blazed reflected flames:

"Burn the city!"

If it were an ordinary war-general who said he would set fire to this Ying city,

then most war-generals would think the words were nothing but bluster and exaggeration. But when the one who spoke them was Yan Daiqing of the Western Regions — that single blaze from the Tangut royal city of those days seemed to burn its way to here.

Once Master Wen Qingyu spread the word, even those second-line corps who had received military orders, even those second-line corps whom Jiang Gao had commanded not to turn back, were greatly alarmed and swiftly withdrew a portion of their forces.

The reason the second-line corps are only second-line is not that their armor is not sturdy, not that their training is not harsh, but that the will of their commanders is not firm enough; it is because their soldiers' fighting spirit is not tenacious enough — perhaps just a little lacking here, a little lacking there.

When the final decisive battle comes, they fall far short of the first-line corps.

The second-line corps withdrew to join battle with the Taiping Army.

Yuan Shitong, Xue Tianxing, and Yan Xuanji were all fierce warriors, engaging the enemy commanders head-on, while Divine Archer General Wang Shunchen himself burst out from the flank and shot dead the enemy's army commander.

Then the Taiping Army's battle line surged forward, wheeling and fighting, cutting apart and taking these second-line corps who had withdrawn to reinforce the capital — some slain, some captured.

Master Wen Qingyu's sleeves fluttered, his expression cool and detached.

In this clash, Jiang Gao had shown resolve — the Son of Heaven guarding the gate of the nation, to avoid entangling with Master Wen Qingyu in a contest of stratagem. But Master Wen Qingyu likewise did not follow Jiang Gao's choice; instead, he took Jiang Gao and the Eastern Capital themselves and made them a link in his scheme.

A hundred thousand troops could not possibly take this city personally held by the Son of Heaven in less than one or two months.

But then — don't take it.

Who says we must take it?

The realm today is one vast, shifting battlefield!

On every local front, war-generals, soldiers, strategists, and heroic knights are charging forth, spending their valor to the last. Jiang Gao certainly has his own heroic spirit, his own resolve and courage, but —

The truth is cruel.

His talent is enough to sway the course of a single local battlefield.

But when it comes to judging the great currents of the entire realm —

He falls far short of Jiang Wanxiang.

And the gap between him and Duke Jingwu, Master Wen Qingyu, and Qin Huang — who has been tempered on countless battlefields in person — remains vast.

This gap could be made up with time, but the torrent of the mortal world, the chaos of the realm — everything is a race against the clock, and there is simply not that much time left for anyone to temper themselves.

Wei Yiwen stood atop the city wall, watching the enemy camp that ringed the place, its banners flaring — Master Wen Qingyu had taken the Eastern Capital, the most crucial and, in the hearts of war-generals, most special capital in all three hundred years of Ying's history, and made it bait.

He drew the reinforcements here, and then the Divine Archer General personally shot their commander dead.

On one hand, the helmets of the slain were piled up at the gates of the Eastern Capital to form a 【Mound of Triumph】; on the other, a hundred-odd strong martial artists who had entered the realm shouted at the top of their lungs: "Your Majesty the Emperor of Ying, yet another army corps has come to your aid!"

"Come and look at them, come and look at them!"

A devastating blow to the morale of the entire Eastern Capital.

Pang Shuiyun was still all right.

But Yuan Shitong, that burly, rough fellow, twitched his brow and could not help but draw a sharp cold breath.

Killing them!

And then destroying their hearts too???

The ever-gentle, reliable, utterly sincere Mr. Wen Qingyu — was actually such a ruthless man?!

Master Wen Qingyu said: "At this moment, please address me as Yan Daiqing of Saibei."

Wei Yiwen gazed into the enemy camp and saw, atop a great rock, a scholar in a plain blue robe, his hair bound with a wooden pin, his bearing ethereal and drifting. Admiration shone in Wei Yiwen's eyes.

So this is the so-called Yan Daiqing of Saibei?

The foremost poison-strategist of our age — the chief must surely be you!

Back in the Western Regions, no one could have imagined that someone would actually go and burn the Tangut Wang Cheng, and the person who did it directly shattered Yu Langwang's grand dream and severed the stratagem of the State of Chen.

Now, when everyone thought this Master Yan Daiqing was very likely to burn the city, a considerable batch of second-line troops and war generals whose will was not firm enough were pulled back to provide support, only to be shot down one by one by him.

Using the Western Regions stratagem as a foundation, he completed an extended arrangement of schemes.

A linked stratagem.

In this age there is actually a person who can complete such a linked stratagem — how lamentable; and what most chilled Wei Yiwen's heart was that the one who could complete such a stratagem, a top poison-scholar who could almost be said to have 【calculated all of human hearts】, a strategist worthy of ranking among the top ten of all ages.

And he was only used to take charge of a local battlefield?!

If such a great talent is in charge of a local battlefield—

Then what kind of monster is coordinating the entire overall battlefield!

Could it be a contender for the foremost strategist under heaven within the annals of a thousand autumns?

Or is it Qin Huang?

But even if Qin Huang commands the entire army, with Qin Huang being pinned down by the Grand Tutor and Gao Xiang, he has no way to focus entirely on controlling the whole situation — there must be a strategist assisting him.

Who could that be? And how immensely powerful, how divinely resourceful must he be.

Cannot think of it, dare not think of it.

The Fire Qilin army led by Qin Huang, Tiance Prefecture, is like an iceberg hidden beneath the water's surface — the closer one gets, the more one understands, the more one can deduce just how terrifying the submerged portion truly is.

Wei Yiwen took out an arrow, his fingers lightly stroking it — this arrow had been left to him by Gao Xiang, the Divine Archer First Under Heaven.

"If after we depart, the situation proves impossible, you may use this arrow to break the enemy."

On this arrow, there clings a wisp of Gao Xiang's own legendary qi.

Although Gao Xiang has not reached the Martial Dao legend, he is at the same realm as the Great Khan King, having initially touched the legendary tier. Wei Yiwen gazed at the scholar in blue robes who stood with his hands clasped behind his back amidst the army of ten thousand.

He drew a deep breath.

"The affairs of the nation lie here, the fate of the homeland lies here — I can no longer afford to be scrupulous!"

Wei Yiwen took out his war bow.

He nocked the arrow, exerted all his strength, and exhausted his literary qi.

His aged, bloodshot eyes locked dead-on the scholar in blue robes. Accompanied by the roar and unwillingness in his heart, the bowstring trembled, the sound like thunder, and the old man's fingers were cut open with streak upon streak of blood.

This single arrow directly punched through the vast distance.

Carrying Wei Yiwen's longing, carrying the State of Ying's last flame, the unwillingness of a death-throe struggle, it punched through the vast distance just like Xue Shen of old, and amid Wei Yiwen's racing heartbeat, pierced through that scholar.

It seemed the spirit of the Divine Archer First Under Heaven was simply too overwhelming!

It seemed that scholar's Wu Gong was, after all, too weak to evade in time.

This arrow struck the head clean off!

It passed through the skull. Wei Yiwen's heart pounded rapidly; he was almost dazed, his fingers pressing hard against the city wall as he gasped for breath—

Finally, finally.

This Master Yan Daiqing of the Western Regions, this fellow, is finally, dead.

Finally…

Just at this moment, that scholar toppled forward, and as he fell, he slowly scattered apart. Wei Yiwen's smile froze — he saw that as the scholar scattered, straw flew up into the sky.

"Military Advisor, the enemy really did fire an arrow!"

General Yuan Shitong went and brought back the violently bursting remnants of the arrow.

Master Wen Qingyu, in the shade that shielded from the summer sun, waved his hand, casually playing a move, and said to Pang Shuiyun in puzzlement: "Old Pang, which military advisor, when showing his face outside, doesn't have seventeen or eighteen dummy bodies?"

"Don't you have any?"

Pang Shuiyun looked at this eccentric genius, the foremost master of self-stratagem, and sighed.

Master Wen Qingyu calmly played his move.

The chess piece landed on the board with a clack. At this moment, black and white pieces were locked in mutual slaughter, the situation grand and fierce to the extreme. Among them, Master Wen Qingyu held the white pieces, and the great white dragon was about to break free of its encirclement, poised to seize the strategic initiative.

Master Wen Qingyu picked up a piece and said casually: "Hang up the thing I've prepared."

General Yuan Shitong laughed heartily: "Good! Whatever the Military Advisor says goes!"

He was thoroughly, from the inside out, convinced by Master Wen Qingyu.

He immediately hung up a great banner, billowing and rolling. Upon it was a single character, written in a bold and vigorous hand, the brushstrokes sharp and murderous to the extreme. Wei Yiwen, enduring the unwillingness and daze in his heart, saw from afar this banner flapping fiercely, and upon it a single character was written in great strokes, namely—

"【Trash】!"

The contemporary *Chaozhou Fuzhi* records that in goose-fighting, geese unskilled at fighting are called "trash geese." The meaning of this term is: aside from being cooked into a dish, they are utterly useless waste.

Wei Yiwen was a man of Chaozhou Prefecture, so this character had an extreme effect on him.

His face flushed red, his expression rose and fell unsteadily. During this period — the shame of having assisted Jiang Yuan, the exhaustion of more than ten days of many affairs with little food and little sleep, and the unwillingness of having expended Gao Xiang's arrow to no effect.

All of it, everything, was detonated by this single character.

Wei Yiwen stretched out his finger pointing into the distance, opened his mouth. The pallid complexion produced by the exhaustion of his spirit actually shifted, a flush of color seeping into it. The next moment, a thread of fresh blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, and his chest swelled with pain.

He wished to soothe the pent-up qi in his chest, but could not.

His chest tightened, and he actually opened his mouth and spat out a mouthful of fresh blood.

This mouthful of blood seemed at last to disperse the breath that Wei Yiwen had been bitterly sustaining in his heart. He tilted backward and crashed to the ground, drawing a stir of commotion from those around him.

Pang Shuiyun played his move and said: "A stratagem to attack the mind — Wei Yiwen has always had extremely high self-regard. Was it deliberate?"

Master Wen Qingyu said: "No."

Pang Shuiyun raised an eyebrow: "Then how?"

Master Wen Qingyu said: "It was intentional."

Pang Shuiyun gave a helpless smile. Master Wen Qingyu calmly set down a piece; the piece landed on the board, the white stones devouring qi. They did not gain much in the way of results, but they successfully connected the qi of the other white stones, and so — the great dragon broke free!

Master Wen Qingyu and Jiang Gao exchanged moves, and Master Wen Qingyu gained the advantage by one step.

The resolve and courage of the Ying Emperor were no match for Master Wen Qingyu's stratagem against himself.

Perhaps, if Jiang Wanxiang were still alive, Jiang Gao could have stayed by his side, gaining more experience, more chances to hone his claws and fangs. But at this moment, Jiang Gao was like a young dragon, facing the veterans of Tiance Prefecture who had been galloping through these chaotic times for over a decade; beneath his bold spirit, there was still too much immaturity.

The Ying Emperor's scheme — trading pieces in the Eastern Ducheng against the Taiping Army, success!

Master Wen Qingyu turned the scheme back on them, a linked stratagem.

The Taiping Army, in turn, pinned down the main force of Ying's second-line corps within the country, success!

And then, across the realm, a chain of reactions unfolded—

Commandery Prince Bo of Qi, breakout successful!

Meng Rang, breakout successful!

Guo Fangyu of Beihai, Zhang Jincheng of Qinghe, breakout successful!

Dou De, Shan Xiong's detachment, broke through the blockade!

The thunder of hooves, rolling like Lei Ting. Dou De's tiger-like eyes blazed with fury; he had already seen the lead-colored clouds of qi, seen the clouds churn and roll as they pressed down, he had already seen the war banners bearing the Canglong pattern, seen He Ruo Qinhu's great army.

That was an army of one of the top ten divine generals under heaven!

To charge such a formation this time would likely cost a terrible price.

But they had already come this far — how could a true man turn back?!

Dou De drew a deep breath, then suddenly roared: "Brothers, charge with us! The heart of a man, the will of a hero — it is now!" He led this rebel force of just over ten thousand men; they had no military formations, no brilliant stratagems of the art of war.

But in that single moment of the charge, that resolve had already reached its absolute peak.

Where did such resolve, such strength, come from?

From an old father whose legs were rotting with maggots; from an elder brother who died in a foreign land; from a son buried alive; from the unwillingness deep in the heart.

They knew they were the lowest of the low, who had to kneel before those lords and nobles, like weeds, letting one foot after another trample them into the mud — and even after being trampled in, they had to smile obsequiously and say they hadn't dirtied my lord's shoes.

But even so — even they!

Even those whose names were like weeds and dust — they too could feel fury, they too could roar.

With no military orders, no promises, only a furious charge, Dou De's detachment successfully pierced through to He Ruo Qinhu's rear, slamming hard into this famed general's battle formation and army momentum.

These common folk, these rebels, these — righteous men.

At the instant of the charge, once they met professional soldiers, they were torn apart and cut down by those soldiers' fierce training. So the one who had chased after his father died to blade and sword; the one who sought vengeance for his elder brother was pierced by a spear, blood scattering in an instant.

Blood fell upon the earth — a mournful air.

Like moths chasing a burning flame, but only a single instant of light.

They swung the weapons in their hands, they clenched their teeth, they widened their eyes, and smashed down hard at the enemies' heads and throats, blood bubbling in their throats, growling hoarse roars:

"Die!!!"

"Give my father back his life!"

The first wave was in truth very weak; they were slaughtered by He Ruo Qinhu's elite soldiers.

But the second wave, the third wave — without pause.

Ferocious, mad.

A Captain of the Ying army, terrified, cursed: "Are you not afraid of death?!"

His long spear thrust into a young man's belly.

The young man spat blood from his mouth, but raised his head, his eyes brimming with bloody tears.

Elder brother died on the battlefield, father perished on the canal, mother grieved herself sick and collapsed onto her bed, sister-in-law and little brother went together to find food for mother — those who ate the grain became rebels, and in the end sister-in-law and little brother were buried alive, mother wailed for three days then hanged herself.

Of the whole family, only I remain.

Alive — for what?

Why would I not fear death?

The young man's eyes reddened; he roared and surged forward, letting the long spear run through his body.

He stretched out both hands, seized the Captain's throat in a death grip, and strangled with all his might.

The roaring tide broke through the hero's army; a sliver of hesitation appeared in He Ruo Qinhu's rear. Dou De, arrows and spears lodged in his body, still pressed forward ferociously; in his hand he gripped a spear, raised high, atop it a war banner bearing the Fire Qilin pattern.

Dou De roared: "Yue Pengwu!!!"

"Dou De of the Central Plains has come to aid — these common folk, their lives are like fire!"

"Will you, my lord, march with us into the land of death!"

Will you march with us into death?

The cry of the Jin Chida roc pierced the sky, marking Yue Pengwu's answer. Were it another war commander, perhaps at that moment he would not have aided these common-folk rebels — might even have treated them as expendable pieces. But this place was different.

For one reason alone.

The rebels here were common folk, starving, unable to go on living.

And the great commander here —

Was named Yue Pengwu.

The divine spear Liquean shrieked as it tore through the air; Yue Pengwu plunged into the battlefield. He and He Ruo Qinhu, who had embraced a will to die, were nearly matched in strength—but at this moment, the rebels Dou De brought became the turning point that tipped the balance of victory.

Yue Pengwu seized that slender opportunity.

He Ruo Qinhu bore many wounds; he had held Yue Pengwu off for nearly twenty days, their armies facing each other, clashing several times, long since wounded beyond count. Now in this final battle, he still rallied to fight with all his might.

But just at this moment, voices rang out one after another:

"Commander Yue, Commandery Prince Bo of Qi has come, unbidden!"

"Meng Rang is willing to be Commander Yue's arrow-tip!"

"Guo Fangyu of Beihai—!"

"Zhang Jincheng of Qinghe—!"

Voice after voice, rebel bands of around a thousand men each stepped onto the battlefield. They could not contend with the top divine generals in single combat, but they became that final surge of strength, tearing open the Ying army's momentum bit by bit.

Yue Pengwu successfully broke through the battle; He Ruo Qinhu rallied his last reserves of courage. The two sides fought bitterly, blow and counterblow, the combat fierce and grim.

The giant python that had surged skyward roared, shaking wind and clouds.

He did not know how long had passed, when suddenly a brightness appeared before his eyes.

The Golden-Winged Great Peng bird military soul Dharma Idol pounced down to kill.

Its wings suddenly folded in, its talons like two daggers and blades, driving straight into the seven-inch point of the giant python's Dharma Idol; it let out a long cry, beat its wings and rose, and the enormous python Dharma Idol stiffened, then toppled downward.

As it fell, starting from the tear left by the Golden-Winged Great Peng bird's Dharma Idol, layer upon layer of cracks began to spread.

He Ruo Qinhu slowly lowered his head, looking at the Lique Divine Spear that had pierced into his body.

Crimson blood kept flowing from the wounds on his body; his head spun, and suddenly he heard a great crash from behind, only to see Dou De and the others had charged to the great banner's position—no one knew who had done it.

The dark-blue dragon-patterned great banner rolled and tumbled as it fell downward.

Suddenly, those rebel soldiers, eyes red, gripping blades and weapons, thrust violently upward; the swords and spears pierced through that enormous banner, like a dream at the edge of the clouds.

The next moment, the dragon-patterned great banner representing the Great Ying Kingdom was torn apart.

He Ruo Qinhu opened his mouth; Dou De, Shan Xiong, and many others' long spears stabbed into his body. He Ruo Qinhu saw that among those people, many were still common folk with red-rimmed eyes.

He Ruo Qinhu raised the weapon in his hand, intending to spend his last breath slaughtering these people savagely, but at that very moment he suddenly recalled Jiang Yuan's earlier intention to use troops against the rebels.

He had wanted to refuse.

But in the end, because of his daughter and grandson, he had agreed.

Under his stratagems and military plans, the Ying Kingdom's army had defeated the rebels, but afterward came the mass burial of thirty thousand people. He Ruo Qinhu looked at the faces of these common folk, and the divine general's grip on his weapon seemed to lose its strength bit by bit.

The horse-halberd in his hand suddenly tightened; he did not slay these ordinary people, only gripped his weapon and hurled it toward the distance. The horse-halberd crossed the battlefield and landed steadily on the earth, humming and keening with a stern, murderous air.

Born upon the battlefield, dead at the hands of common folk.

He Ruo Qinhu burst into laughter, the sound mournful and desolate.

The laughter cut off abruptly.

This divine general, who had campaigned across the realm for sixty years, died in battle; his body fell heavily backward. Even as he fell, his eyes remained open, gazing at the sky—only now they had lost that once stubborn, unyielding will.

Yue Pengwu has defeated He Ruo Qinhu!

The fifteen-hundred-thousand-strong army of Beicheng, and its top divine general Yue Pengwu, now possess full autonomy.

Meet the orthodox with the orthodox; win with the unorthodox.

The unorthodox force has arrived.

The moment of decisive victory—

Has come!!!

And almost at the same time, at the very core, the very front of these armies facing each other—

Qin Huang and Jiang Su had faced each other for more than twenty days, while the rear battlefields of Wen Qingyu and Jiang Gao, the last of the Taiping Army and the present Ying Emperor locked in mutual deadly struggle, finally forced this place as well into the maelstrom of great battle.

At last it caused the situation at the most critical point of this million-strong, sprawling army to intensify.

Jiang Su and Qin Huang fought savagely; their divine weapons clashed, shaking the four directions, still as evenly matched as ever. By their usual pattern of probing, at this point both sides ought to withdraw and face off again.

Jiang Su suddenly changed his move; the divine spear Silence pressed forward instead of retreating.

For more than twenty days beforehand he had woven a 'lie' and a 'habit.'

Those many previous withdrawals had been only for this single instant of suppression. And as Jiang Su's divine spear Silence bore down, soundlessly—even without the whistle of breaking air—a streak of light shot toward the back of Qin Huang's head.

This arrow was too fast, its speed too swift, too fierce.

Even sound could not catch up.

The world's number one divine archer, Gao Xiang · the Hidden Pawn, reveals himself!

The Great Khan of that day, in his final desperate struggle, had encountered this very move, which severed the connection between his Dharma Idol and his fortune of heaven—this was the legendary Qi characteristic of divine general Gao Xiang. But just as this arrow was about to strike Li Guanyi's Dharma Idol—

Behind Qin Huang's head, layer upon layer of ripples suddenly spread outward.

Layer upon layer unfolding, transforming into silver rippling flowing light, linking and colliding with one another—One Origin, Two Forms, Three Powers, Four Images, Five Elements, Six Paths, Seven Stars, Eight Trigrams, Nine Palaces, Ten Directions—spreading out in successive layers, and the arrow slowly sank into them.

The crucial arrow of a top divine general, hidden until this moment, was swallowed up.

Qin Huang said softly: "The great army has been arrayed for more than twenty days."

"I have been waiting for Senior Array Commander's formation derivation to cool down."

"What have you been waiting for?"

Jiang Su had not sensed anything amiss, but he felt a sharp killing intent closing in from his left side; his pupils contracted.

A sword—the wooden sword Dragon Diagram—had appeared at his left.

And Jiang Su's perception was slower by an instant than the awareness a martial Dao legend ought to possess.

Because his left eye had been shattered by Yu Langwang.

Even a martial Dao legend would not normally have such a lapse, but he had grown accustomed to having both eyes intact for over three hundred years, while he had been blind in that eye for only a few short years—in the end, it made a difference.

It was only an extremely brief instant.

No more than a single thought.

But that one instant, in a clash between martial Dao legends, was already enough to be fatal.

The army formation lent its aid.

The hum and howl of sword Qi surged skyward!

Qin Huang's voice was calm and unhurried, as if intending to return this three-hundred-year age of chaos to peace.

"Strike!!!"

?? Begging for monthly votes, friends~