Chapter 317

Tukeslu suddenly leapt into the air, his figure like a tiger pouncing on Ji Jianana, a sharp longsword in his hand glinting with cold light as it stabbed toward Ji Jianana's throat.

"Grandson, you're asking for death," Ji Jianana roared, refusing to yield, swinging his steel blade to meet Tukeslu's attack. His eyes blazed with arrogance and contempt—he believed Tukeslu was nothing but a fool overestimating himself, no match for him.

In a flash of thunderous swordlight, all expression on Ji Jianana's face froze instantly. His eyes widened in disbelief and terror. His throat was slit open, blood gushing forth, staining his chest and the ground.

Tukeslu wrenched off his head and stood amid the chaos, shouting aloud.

"Ji Jianana is dead. Drop your weapons, and you may keep your lives."

"Anyone who dares defy me again—every last one of you—today ends only in death."

No sooner had he spoken than cries and wails erupted. Seeing the bloody head in his hand, the Western Xia soldiers who had just been slashing and hacking all froze instinctively. Fear and despair spread across their faces—they knew they had no hope left.

Though they could not make out the enemy's numbers, a rough estimate suggested they faced nearly three times their own force. The enemy's equipment and horses far surpassed theirs; their morale and momentum were far higher. Their commander was a fearsome hero who had slain their general with a single sword stroke.

Now that Ji Jianana, their leader, was dead—what use were these brats to fight on?

Soon, one man dropped his weapon. His action triggered a chain reaction—then a second, then a third... Within moments, hundreds knelt on the ground, hands raised, begging for mercy.

Tukeslu nodded in satisfaction, holding up Ji Jianana's head, and barked an order.

"Fang Hang, surround them."

His deputy, Fang Hang, immediately obeyed, leading a contingent of cavalry to swiftly encircle the surrendered Western Xia troops, binding them with ropes.

After the Da Jiang Army surrounded the Western Xia soldiers, Tukeslu raised his hand and commanded: "Archers, forward—leave none alive!"

No sooner had he spoken than the trembling Western Xia soldiers begged: "My lord, you swore to spare us if we laid down our arms!"

Tukeslu sneered: "I said you *might* be spared—not that I promised to spare you!" He glared sharply at Fang Hang, signaling him to fire.

At that moment, a second Western Xia soldier knelt and pleaded: "My lord, have mercy! We've surrendered—we no longer fight your army! Please let us return to the steppes!"

The surrounding generals hurried to plead: "My lord, why not spare some to serve as laborers? Better than slaughtering them uselessly!"

Jiang Mingyu also said: "Tukeslu, we've just won—why kill more? Spare some lives." He patted his old friend's shoulder.

Tukeslu's face was dark, expressionless, staring at the kneeling, begging Western Xia soldiers.

"Give me back my family's lives!" he suddenly roared, raising his hand sharply—arrows rained down, dozens of Western Xia soldiers collapsing instantly.

"Stop! Spare us!" The dying Western Xia soldiers screamed in agony, chilling the hearts of all who heard.

Jiang Mingyu's face darkened—he understood Tukeslu was avenging his family. Fang Hang and the others exchanged uneasy glances, saying nothing more.

After a moment of dead silence, Tukeslu exhaled slowly and ordered in a low voice: "Spare five hundred. Kill the rest."

The Da Jiang soldiers hesitated, then raised their bows again, cruelly shooting the very men who had just surrendered. Among the trapped Western Xia, some seized spears beside corpses and died fighting side by side with their enemies.

When the final arrow pierced the throat of the last writhing body, silence fell like death. Wind swept up broken branches and leaves, swirling into pools of blood.

Jiang Mingyu surveyed the carnage before him, his heart a storm of emotions. He understood Tukeslu's cruelty was vengeance for his ancestors.

"Brother, I share your hatred. But this slaughter is too great—it will harden the hearts of the survivors." He stepped forward and placed a hand on Tukeslu's shoulder.

Tukeslu gazed at the blood-soaked corpses around him, long and silent, then sighed deeply: "I know it's not wise... but when I think of them..."

Jiang Mingyu nodded understandingly, then turned to examine the remaining Western Xia soldiers. All were shattered, trembling, too terrified to raise their heads.

"Hand them over to Fang Hang. Keep them under strict guard. We must return to the city to regroup and plan our next move," Jiang Mingyu ordered briefly.

The two men rode back in silence. Only when they reached Shunqing's walls did Jiang Mingyu speak again.

"I understand your pain—but you must restrain yourself. Our first victory is won; we must capture more territory. When that time comes, you may unleash your vengeance fully—just spare the innocent."

Tukeslu nodded, his expression bleak: "Thank you. I'll remember your words. But today, five hundred lives wasted... such a waste."

The two men climbed to the city's heights, gazing across vast mountains and rivers. On the horizon, the sun rose, bathing the land in dawn light. Amid the smoke, two old friends stood shoulder to shoulder, vowing to build a peaceful realm together.

At that moment, an aide reported that remnants of the defeated army were approaching the gates, requesting entry. Jiang Mingyu waved his hand in assent and led the officers into the city.

After ordering the troops back to camp, Jiang Mingyu summoned Tukeslu and other commanders: "The weather grows colder—we must accelerate our campaign against Western Xia."

Tukeslu rubbed his frostbitten hands and agreed: "Brother's right. If this snow gets any heavier, we'll freeze to death on the road."

Jiang Mingyu nodded and ordered the messenger: "The army will rest here one day. At dawn tomorrow, we march west through the snow to Yingyuan."

At that moment, Li Goudan stepped forward, voice low and hoarse: "My lord, my wounds are not yet healed—I cannot endure a long campaign. Please allow me to remain here to strengthen our border defenses." He lightly pressed his chest, revealing a flicker of pain.

Jiang Mingyu understood, a spark of admiration in his eyes: "Goudan, you and ten thousand troops hold the city. Wait for Sima Yu's reinforcements to join us. I trust you with Shunqing Pass—it will not fall." He placed a hand on Li Goudan's shoulder, reassuring him.

Li Goudan bowed and took his leave. Jiang Mingyu watched him go, then murmured: "The queen mentioned by Ji Jianana last night must be deeply entangled with Tuoba Jiqian—this matter is far more complex than we imagined..."

Tukeslu frowned: "Brother, you mean the queen wants you dead? But you've killed so many Western Xia—she must be avenging someone you killed."

Jiang Mingyu smiled bitterly: "I thought so too—but there's something deeper behind this. We need our spies to report back soon."

Tukeslu scratched his head, about to speak further, when Fang Hang stepped forward: "Your Majesty, the snow grows heavier—it will slow our advance."

Jiang Mingyu's face was iron. He cracked his icy whip, urging the troops forward. Then his aide Xuanwu stamped his purple-tinged leg and stammered: "Perhaps we could light beacon fires to warm ourselves?"

"Good idea!" Jiang Mingyu slapped his thigh and ordered: "Light a dozen bonfires!" Soldiers cheered, gathering around the flames to roast their swollen hands and feet.

"Brother, see? Our speed's doubled!" Tukeslu grinned. Jiang Mingyu smiled in satisfaction, secretly guessing Tuoba Jiqian now lounged warm in his palace, utterly unprepared for the arrival of the Eastern Defense Army.

At dawn the next day, the Eastern Defense Army set out westward through the blizzard. The sudden snowstorm indeed slowed them; progress was slow and arduous.

"Brother, at this pace, we won't reach Yingyuan for a full month!" Tukeslu growled impatiently.

Jiang Mingyu's gaze was resolute: "Precisely because of this, our western campaign will strike Western Xia like thunder from a clear sky—they'll be utterly unprepared. We must seize this chance for a surprise victory!"

At that moment, aide Ouli suddenly pointed to a nearby hilltop: "Look—figures moving in those trees!" Before he finished speaking, a shrill whistle pierced the air—dozens of lightly armed Western Xia scouts burst from behind the trees, bows drawn, firing arrows at the Eastern Defense Army.

"Alert! Engage!" Jiang Mingyu roared, charging ahead himself. The two armies clashed instantly—blades flashed, blood sprayed. Eastern Defense soldiers fought like wolves and tigers, capturing enemies alive.

After half the Western Xia were dead or wounded, Jiang Mingyu personally interrogated a prisoner: "Why are you here? Did Western Xia anticipate us?" The soldier broke into cold sweat, trembling: "My lord, we were ordered to patrol the border—then the snowstorm hit..."

Jiang Mingyu realized it was mere coincidence. He was about to order the prisoner executed when a soldier rushed up: "Your Majesty—the scouts we sent out have returned."