Chapter 359

Although they had just endured an unpleasant incident, the scattered morale finally coalesced once more. That was enough.

Jiang Mingyu shook the rain off his body but made no move to change clothes. He climbed onto Ma Bei and shouted to the surroundings: “March on Jiangzhou! Advance!”

At his roar, the hundred-fifty-thousand-strong army trudged southward through mud and water. The rain showed no sign of ceasing; the troops struggled forward along the muddy road. Jiang Mingyu led from the front, wading through the mire. Tens of thousands behind him followed, their clattering hooves and murmured whispers blending together, echoing far beyond the walls of Jiancheng.

The oil-paper umbrellas, already soaked through, lost their ability to shield; cold rain drizzled onto the soldiers. Yet armor, tiger tallies, and spears alike were washed clean by the downpour, revealing their weathered grandeur. This elite force, forged through years of grueling warfare, marched forward with unwavering steps toward ultimate victory.

Having marched all day in the storm, the army barely covered seventy-eight li by evening, setting up camp in a forest clearing. Soldiers swiftly pitched tents and lit roaring fires. The camp buzzed with warmth, turning the small space into a haven of heat. Troops brought out their weather-beaten armor and let it steam slowly beside the flames.

Night grew deep, the rain subsided. Jiang Mingyu remained in his tent, studying maps and planning the next day’s route. That night, the hundred-fifty-thousand troops slept soundly. They no longer spoke of “heaven’s retribution”; all thoughts turned to the southern campaign. At dawn, the drowsy camp would stir again, every face lit with determination and anticipation—this elite army, led by a wise sovereign, advanced with unstoppable force toward their final goal.

The sky darkened within the great camp.

Jiang Mingyu, holding a cup of hot tea and sneezing repeatedly, frowned at the map before him. It marked their current position and the distant Jiangzhou, still five days’ march away.

“If the rain doesn’t stop, at this pace we won’t reach Jiangzhou for at least five days,” Jiang Mingyu said, then let out a thunderous sneeze, spilling tea across the table.

Behind him, Tuke Sulu sighed helplessly and handed him a handkerchief. This sudden autumn rain had stalled their advance and deepened his concern for the front lines.

“Big brother, I know you’re worried about Ke Xin’s situation, but autumn brings heavy rains—there’s nothing we can do.” Tuke Sulu tried to comfort him.

“Still, if we’re suffering, Ke Bin must be in worse shape.” Tuke Sulu gazed out the tent flap at the torrential rain, the sparse drops drumming against oil-paper umbrellas with a steady tap-tap.

He suddenly pointed at the map, his pinky resting on Jiangzhou. “And look, big brother—Jiangzhou sits low. If this rain continues for a few more days, the whole city will be submerged. Even without other factors, if grain rots and weapons rust inside Jiangzhou, Ke Bin’s million troops won’t matter.”

Tuke Sulu smiled faintly. “The real question now is: how do we breach Jiangzhou’s gates?” He looked to Jiang Mingyu, waiting for his decision.

Jiang Mingyu held his steaming tea, his face miserable as he stared at the worsening storm outside—the tent itself swayed violently in the gale. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbed his red nose, and once again stared tearfully at the map.

He had circled Jiangzhou in red and drawn a large X over it with pencil. His expression darkened further; he coughed hard twice, as if trying to expel the suffocating weight in his chest.

“With this rain, we won’t enter the city within five days,” Jiang Mingyu said, looking up at the silent Tuke Sulu. “Liu Yifei’s days inside are unbearable—I can’t stop worrying.”

Tuke Sulu scratched his head and sighed. He stepped forward, crouched beside Jiang Mingyu, and pointed at Jiangzhou’s urban area on the map. “Sister-in-law is strong-willed—she won’t yield easily. Besides, the city borders water with ample grain stores; she can hold out for now.”

“Our armies are locked in stalemate—Ke Bin’s side must be suffering just as much. This rain hurts both sides equally. Maybe it’ll force him to retreat.” Tuke Sulu tried to rally Jiang Mingyu’s spirits.

Jiang Mingyu forced a smile and studied the river patterns on the map. “There’s a major river encircling the city—if we could divert the water to flood it...” His hand traced the lines, then he stopped, sighed heavily again. “But Liu Yifei’s still inside—wouldn’t that drown her too?”

The two exchanged glances, both seeing the same helplessness. Outside, wind and rain hammered the tent with loud bangs. Jiang Mingyu blew his nose hard once more, already mentally devising countermeasures.

The next morning, the rain had lessened slightly but showed no sign of ending. Jiang Mingyu had woken multiple times during the night; his limbs, already weakened by his cold, ached anew in the damp chill. Yet he still blew the order to march. Pale-faced and coughing, Jiang Mingyu forced himself onto his warhorse and led the army northward.

By the fourth evening, after pushing through heavy rain, they finally glimpsed the distant silhouette of a city—their target, Jiangzhou. The journey had been unnervingly quiet; Ke Bin and the city’s defenders seemed to have fallen silent. Jiang Mingyu blew his nose hard, a dark premonition rising in his chest.

“Big brother, is that Jiangzhou over there?” Tuke Sulu asked, pointing at the faint outline in the rain. Jiang Mingyu coughed twice, regaining some voice: “Yes. That’s Jiangzhou.”

The river surged past them. Jiang Mingyu wiped rain from his face, squinting at the river beside the city. “Feng Xi, judge the best spot for a water attack.” Feng Xi nodded silently, studying the terrain. After a long moment, he pointed to a high riverbank. “Your Majesty, this spot is closest to Jiangzhou. Breaching here is optimal.”

Jiang Mingyu looked up—the sky remained choked with dark clouds, no sign of clearing. He turned to the river, churning violently in the storm. The moment had come. It was time to execute this cruel plan.

“Then act,” Jiang Mingyu ordered grimly. Li Goudan led a hundred engineers to dig into the dam. Shovels struck in unison, mud spraying. Soon, a gap opened. Water roared through, destroying ditches, spreading toward Jiangzhou’s outer walls.

Jiang Mingyu’s expression darkened. He whispered silently: “Yifei, forgive me.” He knew Liu Yifei was inside Jiangzhou—flooding the city would place her in mortal danger. But this was the only way to swiftly capture the city and free her from Ke Bin’s grasp. His heart felt torn, yet he had no other choice. Behind him, soldiers hesitated but followed silently, waiting for the flood to drown the city.

Soon, the dam’s collapse echoed like thunder. The surging river surged like a tiger unleashed, roaring toward Jiangzhou.

Jiang Mingyu frowned, eyes locked on the rapidly rising flood. A flicker of unease crossed his face—whether this sudden rain could truly turn the tide remained uncertain. A gale swept across the grasslands, whipping his cloak. He shivered—the biting wind felt like an omen of doom.

“If the rain doesn’t stop, even Ke Bin’s million troops will be wiped out,” Tuke Sulu said coldly, his smile devoid of warmth. His rigid face tried to hide inner dread; only his pale lips betrayed his true fear.

Jiang Mingyu now saw the southern troops scrambling through the flood, their desperate screams drowned in the rain. Some clung to crumbling walls; others floated lifelessly in the torrent, all dying in the deluge. The brutality stirred no pity in him. He watched this human tragedy with cold eyes, feeling only that justice had been served.

“Your Majesty, what now?” Li Goudan forced a thin smile, trying to mask the cruelty in his eyes. His fingers curled unconsciously, still feeling the phantom grip of throttling enemies. This massacre was far from enough—he craved more deaths, until his bloodlust was sated.

“Wait,” Jiang Mingyu tightened his rain cape, voice icy. “Order the army to set camp. Send scouts to monitor Jiangzhou closely. Only move when Ke Bin’s entire force is destroyed.” He urged his horseman forward, galloping across the grasslands to find high ground. Jiang Mingyu must witness this slaughter firsthand—ensure not a single enemy escaped. He would leave no southern traitor alive. This battle, he vowed, would wash the south in blood, eradicating the enemy root and branch.

Scouts raced toward Jiangzhou. Jiang Mingyu’s troops established camp on the heights. Countless eyes fixed on the isolated city, awaiting the final bloodbath. Banners snapped, wind howled—as if the black wings of death hovered over the land. Jiang Mingyu thought silently: the outcome of the Jiangzhou battle was decided. Now, only the reckoning remained.

About an hour later, the scouts returned. They sprinted into the tent, their rain-soaked capes flinging water behind them. Jiang Mingyu was sipping hot medicinal soup carefully; seeing their disheveled state, he frowned.

“Your Majesty, the flood has flooded the city! In no time, Jiangzhou will be entirely submerged!” The scout gasped, breathless from running. “On my way back, I saw soldiers scrambling to block the water—useless. Everywhere, screams and cries—many have already drowned!”

Jiang Mingyu’s hand trembled, nearly spilling the soup. He inhaled deeply, suppressing his unease. Tuke Sulu sneered beside him, eyes gleaming with predatory excitement. “Big brother, with this flood, Ke Bin won’t last another hour. If we attack at dawn tomorrow, victory will be easy!”

Jiang Mingyu said nothing. He drained the medicine, then signaled the scout to leave. His gaze was numb, yet his decision was made. At this moment, he cared only for his wife’s safety. He ordered the army to prepare for assault—determined to storm Jiangzhou the moment dawn broke, to rescue his beloved.

Tuke Sulu stared at his lord in disbelief. He had expected caution—after all, yesterday’s sudden flood was unpredictable. He ventured: “Big brother, the flood is fierce. Ke Bin may abandon the city to break out. Shouldn’t we wait, watch for his moves, prevent his resurgence?”

Jiang Mingyu gave a cold laugh. “My wife is still inside Jiangzhou. Whether Ke Bin flees is irrelevant. I only want to rescue my beloved as soon as possible.” He coughed again, as if the medicine had scalded his throat. He waved Tuke Sulu away, ordering him to issue the command for tomorrow’s assault.

Outside, soldiers marched in disciplined steps, shouting with force. Jiang Mingyu felt utterly drained. He slumped on his stool, his mind filled with his beautiful, dignified wife. He knew tomorrow would be a battle of life and death—not just against enemy blades, but against the unpredictable flood. Yet to save his beloved, even if it meant nine deaths and one chance, he would not hesitate. He gently touched the jade pendant on his chest—the gift from his beloved wife. The thought of her trapped in fire and water tore his heart apart.

That impossibly long, despairing night finally passed.

Jiang Mingyu awoke to the clatter of hooves outside his tent. He bolted upright to find the tent flap wide open—Feng Xi and Li Goudan rushed in.

“Report! Your Majesty, another scout has returned!”

Jiang Mingyu sprang up, heart pounding. He longed to know Jiangzhou’s latest status—but his throat was hoarse. He cleared it and gestured for the scout to enter.

A drenched figure staggered in, uniform and hat dripping. He was filthy, reeking of wet mud.

“R-Report, Your Majesty—Ke Bin has abandoned the city!” he gasped.

Jiang Mingyu nearly spilled his hot tea. He stared, eyes wide, unable to believe his ears. At that moment, Tuke Sulu burst in, grabbing the scout by the collar. “Are you certain Ke Bin fled? What if this is a trap?”

“I saw it with my own eyes!” the scout cut him off. “Ke Bin led seventy-eight thousand troops out the west gate—heading toward Shunping! My lord, I’ve already dispatched men to track their movements...”

Jiang Mingyu’s expression sharpened, eyes gleaming. Seventy-eight thousand—that was Ke Bin’s entire force in Jiangzhou. He was truly at his end! Jiang Mingyu could no longer contain his excitement. He immediately ordered the army to advance and storm Jiangzhou. They would finally avenge the massacre of Dajiang!

Yet Tuke Sulu still hesitated. He blocked Jiang Mingyu’s exit, speaking carefully: “Big brother, perhaps we should send more scouts. This might be Ke Bin’s trap.” Jiang Mingyu shook his head helplessly, coughed once, and said: “Time waits for no one! My wife is still inside Jiangzhou—we must charge now to rescue her. Even if it’s a trap? So be it. With me here, Ke Bin won’t succeed!”

With that, Jiang Mingyu strode out of the tent. Feng Xi and others followed swiftly. At this moment, Jiang Mingyu’s heart was filled only with longing and anguish for his wife. He swore—no matter the cost—he would save his beloved. The entire army, under Jiang Mingyu’s unwavering lead, swiftly marched forward.

Half an hour later, Jiang Mingyu led his troops to block the breached dam. The sudden flood had killed and injured tens of thousands; survivors were homeless. Jiang Mingyu was frantic. The hundred-fifty-thousand Dajiang troops marched through torrential rain to rescue Jiangzhou. Mud flew, rain lashed, the stench of mud mixed with blood made one gag. Soldiers struggled forward, armor caked in mud, faces smeared with filth; many slipped and fell into the mire. Yet Jiang Mingyu held his reins tightly, never slackening, desperate to reach Jiangzhou in time.

At dusk, scouts returned with confirmation: Ke Bin had fled. Jiang Mingyu exhaled softly, then his face darkened as he stared at Jiangzhou, shrouded in swirling dust. Beneath the setting sun, the city loomed like a ghost town. Jiang Mingyu urged them on, determined to breach Jiangzhou before nightfall and rescue his beloved.

As they drew closer, the devastation grew clearer. The towering walls had collapsed; the gates hung open like gaping wounds. Rubble and floating corpses littered the streets; the air reeked of sweet, cloying blood. Jiang Mingyu clenched his reins until his knuckles turned white, veins bulging. He stared ahead, eyes blazing—as if he could burn through the ruins. Finally, the army reached the city. The walls stood empty; the southern troops had fled, broken and scattered. Jiang Mingyu whipped his horse forward, screaming hoarsely: “Break the gates! Save lives!” His voice cracked, tendons in his temples throbbing. Li Goudan and the warriors raised massive logs and slammed them against the gates like a storm. The gates shattered.

Amid swirling dust, cries and wails rose from the people; the air reeked of blood. Jiang Mingyu knew this was the same agony his beloved endured. His eyes burned red, teeth gritted, he drew his sword, raised it high, and roared: “Search everywhere! Find the Empress alive!” His voice trembled with desperate fury. The group moved like ghosts through the ruins, blades clashing, hooves thundering. Jiang Mingyu dismounted, sprinting over rubble and corpses, scanning left and right for his beloved. He trembled violently, eyes bloodshot, fists clenched, nails digging deep into his palms...