Chapter 70: Breakthrough!

A gentle woman’s voice came, laughing:

“It’s rare to see you, Second Brother, so spirited.”

The girl with dragon-and-phoenix bearing raised her brows and smiled: “Of course, because I’ve seen a genius of the world—just like encountering a rare flower, one naturally wishes to bring it under one’s command and into one’s grasp. To be honest, it was your second brother who found this person for me out in the world.”

“Taking you from your eldest brother’s hands and bringing you into my mansion back then was truly the right thing to do!”

The ink-grinding woman blushed slightly and whispered: “Second Miss, you always speak nonsense.”

The girl smiled sweetly and said: “Regardless, I’ve been posing as a man outside, and I need your help to cover for me. Let’s not dwell on this—Wu, keep grinding the ink. I’ll go find my elder brother and father. The world is changing; such an opportunity cannot be missed.”

She straightened her robes, wearing a white round-collared robe embroidered with golden thread in large peony patterns; a master craftsman had woven a golden crown, her phoenix eyes sharp, a crimson vertical mark on her brow, her upper body upright as she walked, her right hand resting on her sword hilt—radiant with spirit.

Her father and elder brother were discussing urgent matters.

After the girl entered and voiced her suggestion—sending a fierce general with a small elite cavalry force into battle—she was immediately interrupted. The current Duke of Longxi frowned and sighed: “Don’t play at state affairs.”

The girl paused, stepped forward half a pace, and pointed at the map:

“Tuyuhun has taken advantage of the Southern Court’s defensive shifts and marched south. The Western Regions are vast, yet lack sufficient fertile land; their terrain is complex, and they lack adequate depth to resist the Northern Turks’ heavy cavalry.”

“Whether for self-preservation or to build strength, they will surely swallow this region of Chen Guo. Now, the Yan state and the Turks face off in the north, and the Tanguts lie dormant. For them, even with risk, they will not let go of this fat prey. Father, the opportunity is right before us.”

The duke rebuked: “Absurd! Do you think we, who manage state affairs, are as ignorant as a child?”

“In the past, you dressed as a boy, rode horses, hunted hawks, traded across nations—even kept the daughter of the Changsun clan in your mansion. I let you do all that. My daughter need not be timid, embroidering and playing the qin like others. But how far have you gone? At your age, meddling in state affairs?”

The elegant young man beside him laughed:

“Second Brother, do you even understand military strategy and grand strategy at your age?”

“Here, elder brother brought you something fine from the capital—carved from ivory, quite exquisite. Take it.”

The Li family of the Duke Mansion bore the surname Ji, granted by imperial decree.

Her elder brother’s proper name was Ji Jianwen, also known as Li Jianwen.

Now, teasing his sister, he shoved the trinket into her hand and said: “Besides, boys are marriageable at fifteen, girls at thirteen. You should be painting and playing the qin. Grand strategy? Your elder brother and third brother can assist Father.”

The girl looked at her father, earnestly:

“Just eight hundred cavalry, Father. If success brings great benefit, why not try?”

The duke frowned, hesitation stirring in his heart.

Li Jianwen said: “At such a time, launching troops rashly—where would we get such forces?”

“And who could bear such responsibility?”

The duke exhaled, his cautious nature prevailing. After long hesitation, he chose prudence, swept his sleeve, and snapped: “Child’s talk! State affairs demand caution. Do not act recklessly. Second Brother, say no more.”

The girl bowed her hands and left.

Li Jianwen watched his sister depart, seeing her peerless bearing, her gaze radiant with grace. For some reason, a faint envy stirred in his heart—as if, when standing beside her, his own brilliance was always eclipsed.

The girl returned to her chamber, thought for a moment, then began donning armor.

Beside her, the ink-grinding Changsun Wu’gou asked in confusion:

“Second Brother, weren’t you refused?”

The Li family’s second daughter raised her brows:

“So what? They refuse—I’ll go anyway.”

Changsun Wu’gou was baffled: “But aren’t they denying you command of the troops?”

“A divine general?”

The girl with the crimson vertical mark on her brow and phoenix eyes raised her brows slightly:

“I am the divine general!”

The phoenix, just past her fourteenth birthday, clad in black armor, gripped a long spear: “Xiao Wu-liang marched at thirteen. Am I less than him? I, too, possess a natural celestial form, already at the third level of cultivation—I am fit to be a general in this world.”

“If Father or Elder Brother asks, say I grew restless and took a group out hunting.”

When the news reached the duke, he was startled.

Asked how many men she took, his minister replied: three hundred.

The duke relaxed, sighed, and smiled at his eldest son: “Jianwen, your second sister has a fiery temper—she’s furious. But three hundred men? What can they accomplish?”

“Let her go.”

At this moment, the duke was deeply fond of his children and warned:

“Remember, don’t go too far.”

“Stay safe.”

The phoenix of the Duke Mansion agreed. She galloped out—but no one knew she would never return, not even at dusk.

A youth bold enough to lead troops at fourteen is rare in history.

But for the second daughter of the Longxi Li family, it was only natural.

Night fell. Stars rose into the sky.

Tuyuhun’s front had reached the Southern Court’s border, its troops sharpened and ready after years of waiting.

Yet no one expected that, at this very moment, the Seven Kings of the Turks had silently appeared upwind of Tuyuhun. The western wind swept down; the Breaker grinned, gripping his battle halberd, gazing toward the Western Regions, while behind him, the Iron Cavalry—the undisputed king of heavy cavalry—raised his lance.

The guide, an old man on a gaunt horse, trembled in the night wind, leaning close to the Breaker.

The Turks’ territory was highland, but the border with Tuyuhun was treacherous.

Yet the Breaker had stolen the sacred halberd of the Tanguts’ holy mountain, fled across the Western Regions, and reached the Turkic steppes—he knew this path. And now, this path would become the reason for the Western Regions’ doom.

Mounted on strange beasts, armored in full plate, each knight was a cultivator of the second level.

They were the steppe’s centurions.

Elite, heavily armored, riding strange warhorses.

Ultimately forming a steel beast weighing ten thousand jin, charging in formation, the monstrous weight hurtling forward at incredible speed, hooves shaking the earth, capable of smashing through city gates—undisputed king of heavy cavalry for three centuries.

Until twenty-two years ago, when Chen Guo’s old general, General Zhou, shattered the heavy cavalry with his hook-sickle spear, defeated the Turks, and dimmed the king’s glory—proving the Central Plains’ blood and ferocity face-to-face, forcing the Turks to retreat.

Later, that great general returned from Jiangnan to the capital, peerless in brilliance. But fifteen years ago, when Prince Puyang rebelled, the state-preserving general had already died early, his old wounds triggered by slaying the Iron Cavalry’s commander.

Had that roaring tiger of the battlefield still lived, Chen Guo would never have had a regent. Alas, history is merciless—great generals and beauties rarely meet good ends. The Breaker licked his tongue, gazing far into the Western Regions.

The wind tonight carried the scent of blood.

He raised his halberd, on which hung a banner—not bearing a name or emblem, but the stars of heaven, as if mirroring the rising White Tiger Seven Mansions in the west. This was a banner passed down through generations, even ranked alongside the Seven Kings’ battle standards.

The Breaker grinned, clenching his fist, tapping lightly against his chest.

Behind him, the White Tiger Seven Mansions rose high in the sky.

He thought:

“My Lord, this is my first battle to make your name known.”

The old guide trembled at the martial aura, whispering: “You carry another’s banner—don’t you fear the Seven Kings won’t let you return?”

The Breaker looked at him.

The old man hesitated, then lowered his voice: “The Turks are greedy. The more heroic a man, the more they wish to keep him close. If you fail to conquer the Western Regions, they’ll kill you. But if you succeed, they’ll lure you with gold, jade, and beauties.”

“If you still try to leave, they’ll kill you anyway—boil you alive in a cauldron.”

“Even burn you to ash—they won’t let you return to the Central Plains.”

The Breaker looked at the guide and smiled:

“No matter. I have my own way to make them send me back willingly.”

“If I can’t do that, I don’t deserve the name Breaker.”

“At night, we strike downward—no supplies. We’ll live off Tuyuhun’s cattle and sheep, plundering their lands…”

He said: “I’m not skilled at hand-to-hand killing. It’s too inefficient.”

“The battlefield—that’s my true home. Let heroes kill heroes, champions slay champions. Only then will the flames of chaos forge the greatest hero, the one who can truly pacify the world. Only then will true peace come.”

“Yao Guang’s ideals are too naive. Peace in this world is forged only in sword and spear. Before that, we are all blood-stained tyrants.”

The Iron Cavalry moved. These killing machines charged into Tuyuhun clans, their iron lances, wrapped in inner qi, tearing through walls and stakes, impaling and flinging back all who resisted. The air thickened with blood. The old man trembled, watching the handsome strategist inhale deeply, his face rapt with ecstasy.

Then he suddenly shouted.

The calm, brilliant strategist seized a nearby spear.

And joined the battle.

The old guide gaped, whipping his horse: “Y-you—you said you weren’t skilled at fighting!”

The Breaker replied: “I’m not skilled.”

“But I love it.”

“Which strategist doesn’t want to join his own plan? How can I let those brutes take all the glory? Not being skilled at killing and not liking it—those are two entirely different things, hahaha!”

He laughed, solemn in the midst of battle:

“Lord of Xichen, Master of Arms.”

“Endless sky, the Emperor’s Origin.”

Then, with his spear, he pierced a resisting Tuyuhun warrior. His eyes blazed crimson—like the madman beside a tyrant who burns the world, handing him torch and oil.

While the Southern Emperor held his beauty’s waist and listened to court musicians play, the phoenix of Longxi spread its wings. Tuyuhun’s eight-year-edged fury descended upon the Southern Court. The Tanguts suppressed their blood-feud. The White Tiger Grand Sect’s banner, after five centuries, rose again beneath the stars.

The Iron Cavalry's hooves shattered the Western Regions' hegemon's dream.

The grand tide of the world shattered on this quiet night of the Southern Court, amid the Emperor of Chen Guo’s concubine’s whispered moans. The Southern Court’s gentle, beautiful music and Longxi’s fierce, roaring wind converged upon this world.

That night, Li Guanyi suddenly opened his eyes.

Above, the White Tiger Seven Mansions blazed brightly.

The White Tiger celestial form manifested spontaneously, roaring toward the sky—as if answering something. This time, even without Yao Guang’s prompting, Li Guanyi saw the fourth mansion of the Western Palace glow intensely. The White Tiger’s ferocity could no longer be contained; it raised its head and roared. Starlight fell, then flowed back into Li Guanyi’s body.

Fiery, blazing.

“Is this… what Yao Guang meant?”

“Could the Second Young Master of the Duke Prefecture really have taken the bait?”

“He chose my strategy, and thus my fate became entangled with his—so the celestial signs shifted because the heavens themselves recognized me as the mastermind behind it all?”

“Western unrest, Bai Hu overseeing warfare?”

“I’ve become the mastermind?”

Li Guanyi realized it.

The internal Qi within his meridians began to rage, naturally refining itself according to the methods of the Jade Arm Divine Bow Art and the Tiger Roar Bone Forging Art—the great tides of the world shift, altering celestial omens, and the stars of Bai Hu’s Seven Mansions are intimately tied to the Bai Hu’s spiritual form, naturally responding with a feedback like starlight refining his body.

Never before had a Bai Hu Grand Master so young and so low in realm caused the world’s great tides to shift.

For past Bai Hu Grand Masters, this feedback was no more than a ripple.

But for Li Guanyi, it was far too intense.

He felt his internal Qi surging wildly, flowing at breakneck speed—so fast it seemed on the verge of breaking through.

Yet the Bai Hu’s spiritual form’s eyes burned crimson, as if lost in a dream of slaughter and war; breaking through now would surely bring side effects. Li Guanyi clenched his right fist—the Red Dragon spiritual form let out a long roar, restraining the Bai Hu’s form, while the Black Tortoise rested slowly atop it.

He prevented that surge from exploding.

But this was only a temporary block—forcing it down like this was like damming a flood; when it finally burst, the explosion would be even greater.

Especially with the omen of his impending breakthrough so overwhelming.

Li Guanyi’s first instinct was not to seek out Xue Lao.

Instead, he mounted his horse and left the Xue family outright. Dusk had fallen; the main gates of Yicheng City were shut, but the side gate remained open. The gatekeeper was about to shout at Li Guanyi when he recognized the rhinoceros-horn belt only worn by officers of the sixth to third rank—he shuddered and dared not stop him.

He even opened the side gate and let the boy ride out of the city.

His meridians throbbed with pain; the Bai Hu’s roar grew fierce, for the chaos in the Western lands was too great and Li Guanyi’s realm too low—the boy was affected, hearing the shriek of swords and blades, seeing visions of slaughter and battlefield. Before his consciousness sank fully into this dream of bloodshed, he clung to his last shred of reason and rushed into the place where Yaoguang was.

The girl knelt before a campfire.

A bun was skewered on a stick.

She had tried to imitate Li Guanyi’s method: honey and milk sat beside her; she dipped the roasted bun in honey, expressionless, yet her eyes held quiet hope, both hands cradling it, lips slightly parted.

Hooves thundered!

Li Guanyi burst in.

“Yaoguang!!!”

The wind stirred, lifting the flames and the girl’s hair. She looked up—the seven mansions of Bai Hu blazed brightly in the sky. The Bai Hu Grand Master rode in on horseback, before him the campfire and stream, above him the brilliant stars. The boy reined in his mount, his brow alight.

The girl bit into the bun.

Crunch.

Then, still kneeling before the fire, both hands cradling the roasted bun, she regarded Li Guanyi calmly, expressionless.

Li Guanyi’s taut nerves relaxed, and suddenly he laughed aloud.

The boy dismounted.

Like a general, he sat cross-legged before the fire, reached out, and tugged the roasted bun from between the girl’s teeth.

He pulled twice before it came free.

Then, hands resting on his knees, he said:

“Yaoguang!”

“I’m about to break through. That’s why I came to find you.”