Chapter 297: Valley of Spies

As soon as the messenger left, Jiang Mingyu furrowed his sword-like brows, a flicker of unease stirring in his heart. He paced atop the city wall, gazing anxiously toward the distance, fearing something had gone wrong on the Luohe front.

Soon, a burly man clad in scout attire sprinted into the tower, bowing deeply to Jiang Mingyu and Tukesluo. His face was streaked with sweat and caked dust, his body bearing the marks of relentless travel.

"Your Majesty, report from Luohe," he barked, his voice deep and powerful.

Jiang Mingyu's eyes lit up at the sound; he closed the distance in three strides. "What's the situation? Speak quickly!" His brow was knotted with urgency.

The scout nodded rapidly, gasping for breath before speaking: "Your Majesty, General Lao Huarong has only fifty thousand troops, and with Zou Jingtong's fifty thousand, they total no more than one hundred thousand—not a match for our forces!"

Tukesluo sneered, contempt flashing in his eyes. "A city facing an army of one hundred eighty thousand leaves only one hundred thousand defenders? Li Haoyang is truly at his wit's end."

Jiang Mingyu's expression hardened. "And what of Luohe's defenses? Can we breach them?"

At this, the scout couldn't help letting out a snort of laughter, then quickly cleared his throat and looked awkwardly between them. Jiang Mingyu and Tukesluo stared at him, baffled.

"Your Majesty," the scout explained, "the people of Luohe, hearing that His Majesty loves his subjects as his own children, have fled en masse, leaving the city hollow. The walls were already low and weak—so the refugees, under cover of night, dug a massive breach right through them!"

Jiang Mingyu and Tukesluo exchanged glances, then burst into laughter. Jiang Mingyu doubled over, slapping his thigh, his face radiant with amusement. That the city had been breached by its own citizens—truly beyond belief!

Tukesluo wiped his tears, a faint smile still lingering. After a long pause, he spoke slowly: "Brother, since the walls are already shattered, all we need do is march to the gates. Lao Huarong and Zou Jingtong will be paralyzed—utterly defenseless." His eyes gleamed, fists clenched, faint traces of lethal intent radiating.

Jiang Mingyu nodded slightly, his sword-like brows drawn tight, his expression grave. "Good. Immediately notify Jiani—halt all training of the surrendered troops. We march twenty thousand men tomorrow—straight for Luohe!" His voice was firm, resolute.

The next morning, sunlight spilled over the pink walls of Maolingcheng, perched atop a hill carpeted in green grass. The air carried the faint fragrance of wildflowers and herbs. The assembled army stood in perfect formation, polished armor gleaming, steeds neighing fiercely, hooves thundering—eager for the battlefield.

Jiang Mingyu, clad in a crimson brocade robe edged with gold thread, stood tall at the city gate, gazing down at his troops, his brow furrowed, his face solemn. Twenty thousand fully armed soldiers now stood in rigid order, radiating lethal intent.

Jiang Mingyu scanned the ranks, then strode to Wang De and spoke solemnly: "I entrust Maolingcheng to you—guard it with utmost care." Wang De replied with a deep, steady voice, his gaze fierce, his resolve unshakable.

Jiang Mingyu mounted his horse, raised his longsword high, and the twenty-thousand-strong army surged forward like a storm. As the vast column still circled beyond the city walls, Tukesluo rode up beside him, hesitating before whispering: "Brother, Wang De just defected—leaving him alone to hold the city—isn't that too risky?"

Jiang Mingyu smiled faintly, dismissive. "Wang De has betrayed Li Haoyang and joined us—he won't turn back. Besides, he has deep local ties—he's best suited to calm the people." Tukesluo glanced at the silent Zhang Jiani, then fell silent, joining the army as it surged forward with roaring fury.

As the army moved, the air seemed to freeze. Soldiers roared past, hooves shook the earth. Jiang Mingyu's steed charged ahead, his crimson robe snapping in the wind, sword-energy piercing the air. The massive host surged like a tidal wave, sweeping toward Luohe.

On the tower, Wang De watched their retreating backs in silence, his gaze deep and unreadable.

Luohe was only three hundred li from Maolingcheng. With full speed, the army would arrive in two or three days. Jiang Mingyu rode at the vanguard, his spirits high.

He gazed ahead at the valley: steep slopes rose on either side, a narrow path winding through like a serpent.

The valley teemed with greenery—trees, flowers, vines intertwined. Occasional birdcalls echoed, lending an air of tranquil serenity.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground. The air was fresh and cool; a gentle breeze brought comfort.

Jiang Mingyu's army split into four columns—front, rear, left, right—advancing along the valley path. Armored, weapon-wielding, their morale soared.

But behind them, Tukesluo and Zhang Jiani's faces turned pale. Simultaneously, they shouted: "Stop!"

They yanked their reins, halting their mounts, pointing urgently at the surrounding hillsides, their expressions terrified. Jiang Mingyu turned, startled—then burst into laughter. "When did you two get so in sync?" He shook his head, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.

Zhang Jiani spoke gravely: "Brother, something's wrong." Her brows were knotted, her gaze sharp as she pointed to the hills: "Notice—we're in a valley, yet not a single bird has taken flight from our passage. That means someone drove them all away—and kept them from returning."

"It can only mean an ambush," she said, her tone certain, her eyes sharp with deduction. Tukesluo nodded. "Agreed. This valley is perfect for an ambush. Once we enter, we'll be surrounded on all sides."

Jiang Mingyu's expression darkened, then cleared with sudden understanding. "You're right. They've laid a net—waiting for us to walk into it. Li Haoyang, cornered as he is, has chosen this place for a final stand—he means to crush us." His heart sank; he gritted his teeth.

He knew Li Haoyang was a cunning foe, unlikely to surrender easily. He knew his own army, though vast, would be crippled if trapped in an ambush—his numbers useless.

He regretted not sending scouts ahead to scout the terrain. But he quickly steadied himself, analyzing calmly, seeking a solution. He refused to let panic undermine his army's morale or fighting spirit.

Tukesluo sneered. "I knew that old bastard was finished—he's gone all in! Brother, what's your plan? Shall I lead a breakout?"

Zhang Jiani shook her head. "No. That's exactly what they want—to split and destroy us. We must hold formation, keep discipline, and withstand their assault."

Jiang Mingyu scanned the surroundings, whispering: "Maintain our pace—don't let them know we've seen through them. Quietly alert the entire army to prepare for battle." His face was resolute, his gaze piercing.

"I'll organize the command—you two focus on killing their commander. Leave them leaderless—they'll collapse."

Tukesluo and Zhang Jiani exchanged glances, then nodded firmly. Zhang Jiani lifted her chin proudly. "Brother, rest easy—we won't fail."

Jiang Mingyu felt a measure of relief. He knew Tukesluo and Zhang Jiani were formidable—having them on the front lines would greatly increase their odds.

With this thought, he patted his steed's neck, silently planning his next move...

Half an hour passed. Sunlight filtered through the leaves onto the hillside, casting a tense atmosphere as battle loomed. Suddenly, Tukesluo's brow twitched, his lips curled. He whispered: "Here they come." His tone held absolute certainty.

From the trees surged a dark tide of men and horses—black armor gleaming like midnight waves, instantly surrounding Jiang Mingyu's twenty-thousand-strong force.

Jiang Mingyu's brows tightened, his face heavy with gravity. He signaled his troops to stand ready. Before him stretched a wall of black armor—countless, unyielding.

Then, from deep within the brush stepped a towering, imposing general. Clad in black armor, steel helm atop his head, his eyes glinted like stars in a frozen night—sharp, merciless.

"Jiang Mingyu, don't think you can escape!" His voice echoed through the valley, a final verdict.

A chilling frost spread. Leaves rustled softly in the breeze—like war drums calling forth the coming clash.

Jiang Mingyu drew a deep breath, his gaze cold as lightning, fixed on the arrogant general. He smiled faintly—a smile of utter disdain, like a blade cutting through winter wind.

The general smirked, sweeping his eyes over Jiang Mingyu's army. "Jiang Mingyu, do you still remember who I am?" His voice rang like a frozen sword.

In that moment, tension solidified into substance. The entire valley seemed frozen, waiting for the collision to erupt.