Chapter 345

Jiang Mingyu led tens of thousands of troops across endless wilderness and finally arrived outside Tang Xiang City.

He looked up and saw that the scene before him was vastly different from his last visit. The once barren wasteland had become a green field, planted with wheat, corn, cotton, and other crops.

The Western Xia people were working hard in the fields, their faces glowing with happy, peaceful smiles. They looked forward to the future, grateful to Jiang Mingyu for granting them hope of survival.

Jiang Mingyu felt a quiet satisfaction within; his gaze swept over the army’s banners, which bore the characters “Great Jiang.”

He did not sack the city, plunder, or enslave—he gave the Western Xia people freedom and dignity, making them subjects of Great Jiang, granting them its civilization and prosperity. He dispatched countless officials and soldiers to help them rebuild homes, cultivate land, construct irrigation systems, develop the economy, and improve livelihoods. He enacted a series of laws and policies to protect their rights, punish corruption and violence, and maintain social order and peace. He did all this for one purpose: to make the Western Xia people happy.

Jiang Mingyu’s name had spread to every corner of Western Xia; his arrival was undoubtedly a great event for its people. As he entered the city, the populace welcomed him with fervor, kneeling to thank him and cheering his name. They offered flowers, fruits, silk, and other tributes to express their reverence and affection. Jiang Mingyu accepted each gift in turn, responding with a gentle, warm smile—no trace of arrogance or pride in his expression.

Jiang Mingyu entered the city, the people’s cries of “Ten Thousand Years!” still echoing behind him.

Tukesiluo said to Jiang Mingyu: “Big Brother, I was too cautious before. Now I see you are truly a blessing to the Western Xia people—your virtue and prestige have sunk deep into their hearts; your name and achievements have shaken the world. You once feared they might harbor rebellion, but now it seems you overestimated them. The Western Xia people are truly convinced—they will never rebel again.”

Jiang Mingyu shook his head and smiled: “Tukesiluo, you’re too optimistic. Though the Western Xia people outwardly thank me, deep inside they still cling to loyalty to the Western Xia dynasty and resist Great Jiang. They are merely obedient because I’ve given them enough benefit—but given the chance, they will rise again. I don’t seek to kill their hearts; I seek to win them. I must make them truly recognize Great Jiang, truly love it, truly serve it. This is a difficult task, requiring time and patience—no haste, no complacency.”

Tukesiluo listened, lowering his head in thought. He found Jiang Mingyu’s words wise; he knew Jiang Mingyu’s vision and ambition ran deeper—he did not merely wish to unify Western Xia, but to conquer the entire world and establish an eternal Great Jiang Empire. His admiration and trust in Jiang Mingyu deepened further, and he resolved to follow him in realizing this great goal.

Not long after, an old farmer suddenly rushed from the roadside and blocked Jiang Mingyu’s path. Tukesiluo instantly went on alert, drawing his longsword and shouting: “Who are you? Soldiers, seize him!” He suspected the old man was an assassin and must be handled with care. The soldiers pinned the farmer to the ground; he struggled violently, crying out his innocence. Tukesiluo was about to order his execution when Jiang Mingyu suddenly said: “Stop!” Tukesiluo hurriedly replied: “Big Brother, this man’s origins are unknown—what if he’s an assassin…?” Jiang Mingyu frowned, cutting him off.

“Look at his appearance—does he seem like an assassin? Show some respect. Order the soldiers to release him.” Tukesiluo studied the farmer closely and realized he truly did not resemble an assassin. He ordered the soldiers to search him thoroughly, then let him go.

Jiang Mingyu dismounted and walked to the old farmer’s side. “Old man, you’ve been frightened. Why did you block my army?” Jiang Mingyu, having suffered greatly among the common folk in Shangmu, always carried a special feeling toward the lower classes.

The farmer, breathless from fear, knelt on the ground and said: “Your Majesty, I am a humble Western Xia peasant, bold enough to intercept your procession only because I am grateful for your grace. I mean no harm—I only wish to offer you a bowl of water, as a token of my heart.” His appearance was simple, his face lined with wrinkles, still marked by recent terror.

He did not even know he should call himself “your humble subject” before the emperor.

He only knew that the fluttering dragon banner represented the emperor’s majesty.

He pointed behind him, and Jiang Mingyu saw a coarse clay water jar.

Jiang Mingyu also noticed the fields were vast, yet only this old man worked them. He guessed it was lunchtime—others had returned home, but this farmer remained tending his crops. Jiang Mingyu smiled and said: “I’m thirsty. Thank you, old man.” He sat down on the ground, his manner warm and approachable.

The farmer beamed and hurried off, bringing the water jar and a large bowl to Jiang Mingyu.

He was about to pour when Tukesiluo suddenly interrupted: “Wait.” He pulled a silver needle from his sleeve and swiftly inserted it into the jar. Seeing the needle did not change color, he exhaled in relief.

The old man still looked simple-minded, seemingly unaware of why the young man had done this. Yet Jiang Mingyu did not press further—he simply handed Jiang Mingyu a bowl of cold boiled water.

Jiang Mingyu took the bowl and offered it back with both hands. “Your Majesty, thank you for giving the Western Xia people a way to survive—we no longer fear starving in winter.” The old man spoke humbly: “My home is poor; I have only this bowl of water. Please taste it.”

Jiang Mingyu smiled as he accepted the bowl, expressing his thanks—just as he raised it to his lips, his warhorse let out a sudden, piercing neigh.

The neigh startled Jiang Mingyu, causing him to spill the water onto the ground. As he felt awkward, preparing to ask for another bowl, Tukesiluo had already kicked the old farmer hard.

Jiang Mingyu snapped: “Tukesiluo, are you mad? What kind of act is this?” As emperor of Great Jiang, mistreating an old peasant in the wild would destroy imperial dignity if word got out.

Yet Tukesiluo seemed unmoved by his anger. He first ordered soldiers to seize the farmer, then met Jiang Mingyu’s displeased gaze. “Big Brother, look.”

Jiang Mingyu followed his finger and froze. The water spilled on the ground now bubbled black—clearly laced with deadly poison.

Cold sweat instantly soaked his back; his tongue grew stiff. “This…?” But Tukesiluo had already tested it—where had this lethal poison come from?

Had the warhorse not neighed, he would already be a corpse. The old farmer was pinned again; Tukesiluo’s face turned icy as he uttered a distant name: “Big Brother, do you remember Xing Youli?”

“Xing Youli?” Jiang Mingyu paused, instantly understanding Tukesiluo’s implication. “You mean this poison is the same as the one Xing Youli used—mixed poison?”

Tukesiluo nodded grimly. “I suspect correctly—the water is harmless, the bowl is harmless.”

“But together, they become lethal. Old man, am I right?” His blade-like gaze locked onto the farmer’s eyes.

The old man squinted his yellowed eyes, struggled slightly, then spat angrily: “You’ve got some sense—you’re right. It’s mixed poison.”

“Too bad that beast suddenly neighed at the critical moment.”

“Otherwise, Jiang Mingyu, you’d already be dead in our hands.” He glared fiercely at the warhorse that had saved Jiang Mingyu.

Yet Jiang Mingyu’s heart churned with turmoil. Who was this old man, determined to kill him?