Chapter 353: Foolish Act

Jiang Mingyu left the camp at the third watch, the silent night offering no sign of danger. At that very moment, Eight-Character Beard led a band of desperate southern frontier death warriors, slipping silently toward the central command tent.

Eight-Character Beard gripped the icy dagger at his waist, meticulously verifying each sentry post until he reached the entrance of the command tent.

“Only two more corpses left—deal with them immediately,” he whispered.

Two guards responded and moved out; moments later, the muffled sound of a wooden rod piercing throats echoed. Eight-Character Beard silently prayed for divine aid, just as he reached to lift the tent flap—a distant cry shattered the night air:

“His Majesty has returned to camp!”

Eight-Character Beard froze before the tent. Before he could react, a commanding roar erupted behind him: “Who dares intrude upon the command tent!”—his voice thick with fury.

“Damn—it’s Tukesluo!” Eight-Character Beard’s heart sank; he knew all too well the might of this fierce general.

Scarface turned deathly pale: “We’re finished! We must flee at once!”

Eight-Character Beard spun around, gesturing sharply: “Shut up! Too late now—our only chance is to storm the tent and fight to the death together!”

Scarface clenched his teeth and finally gave a heavy nod. Both knew: tonight held no tomorrow’s sun.

“Brothers, farewell!” Eight-Character Beard declared grimly. “We shall not meet again in this life—only in the next!”

No sooner had the words left his lips than he lunged forward, tearing open the tent flap—just as Jiang Mingyu’s figure appeared before him in that same instant!

Both men were stunned by the sudden turn of events. But Eight-Character Beard forced himself to react, his dagger flashing out in instinctive reflex.

“La—”

A streak of silver flashed—Jiang Mingyu’s eyes caught it instantly, and he sidestepped the lethal strike.

“Assassin!” he roared.

“Guards! Seize the assassin!”

Dozens of soldiers surged forth at once, swiftly surrounding the command tent. The death warriors exchanged despairing glances—they knew their end had come...

After escaping death, Jiang Mingyu’s face darkened like forged iron, churning with fear, rage, and regret.

“If not for Tukesluo’s sharp eyes, I’d have been killed by these fools!” He nearly overturned the table before him. “I was careless—letting spies infiltrate the camp!”

Tukesluo’s face was equally grim. He let out a heavy grunt and said, “Big Brother, we both grew complacent. I told you from the start not to spare those surrendered troops—they’d bring disaster.”

Jiang Mingyu finally understood, slamming his fist onto the table: “I see it now! Send men—execute every single surrendered soldier! Leave not one alive!”

Li Goudan hurried off to carry out the order.

When the vast camp fell silent, no more cries left to echo, Jiang Mingyu exhaled deeply, his expression softening slightly. He turned to Tukesluo:

“Come to think of it, if you hadn’t spotted those spies and yanked me out of the way of that blade, I’d be dead by now. How did you know?”

Tukesluo replied gravely: “While patrolling outside the camp, I sensed something amiss. I rushed back to the tent and caught those bastards in the act. I barely pulled you clear in time—otherwise disaster would’ve been certain.”

Jiang Mingyu’s fury surged again—he longed to summon the dead souls and cast them into the eighteen layers of hell.

“Big Brother, don’t blame yourself,” Li Goudan said gently. “We all share responsibility. These spies hid among us for so long!”

Jiang Mingyu let out a long sigh, his voice hollow: “Enough. The dead are dead. But the southern frontier is truly treacherous—we must be utterly vigilant.”

As he spoke, a cold, lethal glint returned to his eyes: “We march south next—straight to Jiancheng! This debt, I will repay a thousandfold!”

When two hundred thousand troops appeared at the border, Li Sining, the southern frontier Regional Military Commissioner, was leading five hundred men on patrol. The thunderous roar from afar startled him—he looked up to see dust rising like a storm, banners gleaming under the sun, a tide of iron cavalry racing toward the border.

“Rebels!” Li Sining’s face paled. He realized these soldiers were not allies—they were invading enemies.

The cavalry arrived swiftly. A young man in black armor stood before his steed, eyes blazing, behind him tens of thousands of armored horsemen, spears ready. Li Sining hurried forward: “This is the border between two nations—do you intend to provoke war?”

The young man sneered, saying nothing. He raised his hand—dozens of arrows shot through the air. Before Li Sining’s men could react, they collapsed into pools of their own blood.

“Fire!” Jiang Mingyu ordered again. The remaining southern frontier soldiers were all slain. Jiang Mingyu’s expression remained unchanged. He turned to Tukesluo and Li Goudan: “Cross the border—take Hanshang Town!”

At that moment, Feng Xi lay inside a sedan chair, his empty right sleeve a constant torment. Had he not been crippled by torture, he could have fought alongside the others. He sighed.

Li Goudan looked at Feng Xi, his heart heavy. He stepped forward, clapped Feng Xi on the shoulder, and said: “Brother, after this battle, I’ll buy you a drink!” Then he mounted his horse and rode beside Tukesluo.

Jiang Mingyu watched their retreating backs, silently praying for their victory. The outcome of this battle would decide the fate of his great cause. He knew Tukesluo and Li Goudan would conquer Hanshang Town for him—open the gate to the southern frontier.

Thirty thousand troops soon reached the outskirts of Hanshang Town. As the surrendered soldiers had reported, fifty thousand southern frontier troops were stationed here. Li Sining, watching from the city walls, felt no confidence.

“The enemy is so vast—how can our thirty thousand hope to win?” someone asked.

“We live and die together!” Tukesluo roared. “There is no retreat—we must win!”

“Exactly!” Li Goudan echoed loudly. “We’ve penetrated deep into enemy territory—only victory will see us through!”

Jiang Mingyu frowned, staring intently at the map. His army had marched all night and now stood at the border, only dozens of li from Hanshang Town.

“Your Majesty, in half a day’s march, we’ll reach Hanshang Town,” Feng Xi said, pointing with his single remaining arm.

Jiang Mingyu replied grimly: “Good. From Hanshang Town, I will make the southern frontier’s lackeys pay in blood.”

Since his mother had been murdered by southern frontier warlords, Jiang Mingyu’s hatred had never faded. Now, at last, the moment for vengeance had come—he would carve these beasts into a thousand pieces to avenge his parents’ spirits.

As the two bent over the map to plan their next move, a thunderous roar suddenly exploded through the valley.

“Jiang Mingyu, you wolf cub—where do you think you’re running? Today, I’ll tear you apart with five horses and bring you to justice!”

No sooner had the words ended than a blinding rain of arrows roared toward the Da Jiang army. Jiang Mingyu barely dodged the first volley—his mount convulsed and collapsed dead beneath him.

“Watch out!” Feng Xi lunged forward, yanking Jiang Mingyu off his horse. The second volley followed—arrows hissed overhead, missing them by a hair’s breadth.

Jiang Mingyu landed hard, scrambled up, and saw his attacker: a towering man in light armor atop the slope, wielding a long blade, eyes blazing red with murderous intent.

“Zhang Hongzhe!” Jiang Mingyu whispered. He recognized the southern frontier general who had repeatedly crushed Da Jiang forces along the border. No wonder he knew their route—this beast had lain in ambush!

“Damn—we’ve been tricked!” Jiang Mingyu gritted his teeth. Zhang Hongzhe had spotted him too—he roared and charged down the slope like a released arrow.

“Die, Jiang Mingyu!”

A deafening clang rang out—Jiang Mingyu barely drew his sword and blocked Zhang Hongzhe’s mountain-crushing strike. Their blades clashed, evenly matched in strength.

“Jiang Mingyu, today I’ll take your head to honor my forty brave brothers who died for the nation!” Zhang Hongzhe bellowed, eyes bloodshot.

Jiang Mingyu’s eyes burned red too: “You southern frontier dogs—you murdered my parents! I will make you pay in blood!”

The two clashed on the mid-slope, locked in fierce combat. Meanwhile, Zhang Hongzhe’s heavy cavalry, enraged, surged into the center of the Da Jiang army. The valley erupted into fire and blood—a brutal, desperate battle raged.

Jiang Mingyu grew anxious within: this force was the elite of the elite—if it was annihilated, Da Jiang would suffer a crushing blow.

Iron cavalry clashed with southern frontier troops on the slopes. Jiang Mingyu stared ahead, heart pounding.

“Tukesluo, the enemy holds the high ground—we’re at a disadvantage! We must turn the tide!”

Tukesluo slashed through a southern frontier soldier, coldly replied: “Your Majesty, remain behind the lines. I’ll lead the charge and break their formation!”

He pulled his reins tight and plunged his cavalry deep into enemy ranks. Soon, screams and clashing steel echoed from behind the slope.

Jiang Mingyu frowned, staring at the rear camp—flames roared, smoke billowed. His deputy, Feng Xi, rushed over, panting:

“My lord! The supply convoy was attacked—the grain is on fire!”

Jiang Mingyu’s heart sank—he knew the situation was dire. Just as he prepared to rally his troops, a cruel laugh rang from above:

“Jiang Mingyu, you’ve lived too long!”

Jiang Mingyu looked up—it was Zhang Hongzhe leading the assault. One Da Jiang soldier lunged in front of him. Three bowstrings snapped behind—soldier became a pincushion.

Jiang Mingyu’s heart ached. His troops scattered before him. Limbs flew, blood soaked the ground, the scene horrific. Then hoofbeats—Zheng You broke back through the lines, his body bristling with arrows, yet unharmed.

“My lord, I couldn’t break out—I’ve returned to protect you!”

Jiang Mingyu’s expression hardened—he could not remain passive. He barked:

“Send word to Li Goudan—bring his troops to reinforce us! Send others to extinguish the fire! We hold this camp at all costs—wait for reinforcements!”

The officers rallied, each taking their posts. Jiang Mingyu stood shoulder to shoulder with Tukesluo, his Heaven-Defying Sword drawn, eyes fixed on the charging Zhang Hongzhe.

“Zhang Hongzhe, you will not take my life!”

“Jiang Mingyu, I’ll let you live a little longer!”

Their swords pointed at each other’s throats, murderous intent blazing. Then, from the mid-slope, a wave of iron cavalry broke through the encirclement—Li Goudan had arrived. Zhang Hongzhe’s face darkened—he wheeled his horse to flee.

“Think you can leave? Not so easily!”

At that moment, a familiar voice rang from the horizon: “Big Brother, don’t fear—Tukesluo comes!”

It was Tukesluo, leading reinforcements! Jiang Mingyu’s heart surged with relief—he finally exhaled, his tension easing. Tukesluo’s eyes burned red, his aura thick with slaughter, his dull gaze filled with killing intent: “You bastards—I’ll exterminate you all today!” The arrival of reinforcements instantly turned the tide.

On the other side, Zhang Hongzhe’s face turned ashen. He screamed at his remaining troops: “Withdraw! The battle is lost!” Their leader, a monstrous figure clad in armor like a bear, ugly and grotesque, realized all was lost—he ordered a hasty retreat.

But Tukesluo sneered, raising his whip: “Now you want to run? Too late!” He slashed left and right, killing two southern frontier soldiers, then shouted orders to hold their ground. He leapt onto his steed and raced after the southern frontier leader.

“Today, if I don’t cut off your head, I’ll reverse my name!”

Soon, hundreds of thousands of troops surged forward like a tide. The southern frontier remnants had no strength left—they dropped their armor and fled in panic. The bear-like leader felt a chilling breath at his back—he turned and saw Tukesluo just three zhang behind, white robes fluttering like a dragon-slaying hero. A sharp *clang* rang out—a white flash sliced downward—the bear’s head flew off, blood spraying in all directions—as if Death himself had claimed his soul.

The remaining southern frontier soldiers, terrified, ran faster—but how could they outrun iron hooves? In moments, all were captured. Li Goudan and Feng Xi completed the encirclement from east and west—the southern frontier troops had nowhere to flee.

Jiang Mingyu surveyed the littered corpses of southern frontier soldiers, his fury burning. His face turned cold, his gaze icy, his voice thunderous: “Leave none alive!”

At his command, Tukesluo and other fierce generals drew their blades, eyes red with bloodlust, and began the massacre.

Jiang Mingyu stood high above, watching coldly. Above, dark clouds loomed, ominous and terrifying. Around him, desperate screams echoed as if he stood in the deepest abyss. Pools of blood, severed limbs, scattered everywhere. Sword clashes sparked fire. Screams, moans, and neighing horses rose in chaotic chorus...

Long after, the killing ceased. The battle-hardened generals stood firm in the snow, faces cold, blades stained crimson.

Jiang Mingyu’s face was grim as he stood at the center of the corpse-strewn battlefield. His weathered features now looked ten years older.

He ordered grimly: “Tukesluo, count our casualties and prisoners.”

Tukesluo’s face was equally grim. He led men through the field, searching. Countless bodies lay torn open—most wore southern frontier armor, but a few bore Da Jiang uniforms, all missing limbs. Jiang Mingyu’s heart ached—they were his brave generals, who had fought beside him across the land, now buried far from home.

Long after, Tukesluo trudged back to Jiang Mingyu, sighing heavily: “My lord, we’ve counted: we lost twenty thousand men. Southern frontier corpses: eleven thousand.”

Jiang Mingyu frowned, turning to gaze at the sky—dusk was near. This battle had been horrifically brutal. Hanshang Town had gone to great lengths to ambush him—clearly, they feared his southern advance.

“So Wei Yangyao has truly decided to kill me,” Jiang Mingyu muttered. “First he attacked my army, then tried to assassinate me, now this... Wei Yangyao, do you know what a foolish act you’ve committed?”

Suddenly, he realized: “Ah... when we fought the southern frontier before, we never cleared the battlefield. These troops must have escaped then, returned to Hanshang Town to report! How presumptuous—they dared provoke Tukesluo...”

Jiang Mingyu’s killing intent surged violently.

“Reorganize the troops, bury the dead. Lightly wounded march with us. Order Zhang Tao to transport the severely wounded back to Guizhou.”

“Load the southern frontier corpses onto carts—take them to Hanshang Town.”

Tukesluo smiled bitterly.

“I’d brought a few of their heads, hoping to lure the garrison commander out—but now, it seems unnecessary.”

This was the brilliant idea he had confidently told Li Goudan about earlier.

Upon hearing Jiang Mingyu’s military order, Feng Xiwei, who had just been organizing the rear troops, hurried to Jiang Mingyu’s side.

“Your Majesty, most of our army’s grain supplies were destroyed in the fire just now.”

“If we launch an offensive against Han Shangzhen now, and our provisions run out midway, the situation will become extremely dire.”

His words were veiled, but everyone understood: if the army went without food for several days, the soldiers would surely mutiny.

Jiang Mingyu looked into his eyes and spoke in a low, grave tone.

“Then what do you suggest?”

Feng Xiwei’s voice was equally heavy.

“In my view, we should first return to Guizhou, replenish our grain supplies, and only then proceed with the campaign.”

Jiang Mingyu glanced at the bodies being buried, his voice growing even colder.

Jiang Mingyu let out a cold laugh, his body radiating fury: “If that’s the case, today I shall cut down every last enemy soldier of Han Shangzhen beneath my horse!” He spun sharply, raised his sword, and roared: “Soldiers! Han Shangzhen is a thorn in the heart of our Great Jiang! Today we cut out this pest—leave not a single enemy alive!”

Upon hearing this, all officers were filled with righteous rage, drawing their blades and shouting. The cavalry horses reared in unison, morale surging; the entire army yearned for a decisive battle. Jiang Mingyu sat atop his steed, scanning his men, his heart swelling with grandeur. He strode across the blood-soaked battlefield, his eyes devoid of mercy, yet a cold smile curled at his lips.

Seeing Feng Xiwei still wished to speak, he waved his hand to cut him off.

“My decision is final. Say no more. Prepare to march.”

Soon after, Jiang Mingyu’s 170,000 troops, brimming with fury, set out directly for Han Shangzhen.