Chapter 369: Southern Barbarians Attack

Two days after arriving in Xiongzhou, Tukeslu stumbled into the tent, face pale and drenched in sweat. His eyes widened, lips trembling, as if he had been terrified beyond measure.

“R-Report!” he gasped, struggling for breath, “A massive fleet has appeared from the Xiongzhou direction! Over thirty giant warships! And over five hundred and sixty thousand reinforcements aboard!”

Before he finished speaking, he staggered and collapsed heavily to the ground. Sweat poured from his forehead, soaking a large portion of his military uniform.

Inside the tent, Jiang Mingyu was bent over paperwork. Hearing the commotion, he frowned slightly and looked up. A flicker of annoyance passed through his phoenix eyes, then vanished into calm.

“Is this all it takes to panic? Just five hundred and sixty thousand reinforcements?”

Jiang Mingyu wore a jet-black military uniform, a long sword at his waist. His frame was imposing, his gaze sharp as lightning, radiating an aura of authority. He now strode slowly toward Tukeslu, a faint, mocking smirk on his face.

“Ha. It seems Wei Yangyao has truly decided to burn this place down with me.”

Tukeslu trembled violently, unable to stand, and collapsed onto his seat. He looked up at Jiang Mingyu, pupils shrunk tight with fear.

“B-Brother, Xiongzhou has already fallen. With such a massive force approaching… what do we do?”

“Hmph!” Jiang Mingyu snorted, striding to the tent flap and yanking it open with force. Blazing sunlight flooded in, casting his towering black silhouette sharply onto the ground.

Far off, where sea met sky, a dark mass loomed steadily closer. Jiang Mingyu squinted, his expression gradually relaxing.

After a long while, he turned away, slowly facing back. The icy coldness had vanished from his face, replaced by a faint, hidden smile.

“Relax, my brother,” he said, stepping up to Tukeslu with gentle tone, “Just as I predicted. These five hundred and sixty thousand reinforcements have surely heard rumors of our defeat—they’ve come hoping to seize Xiongzhou while we’re vulnerable.”

As he spoke, his lips curled slightly, a glint flashing in his eyes. Jiang Mingyu reached out and pulled Tukeslu up from where he knelt.

“Our troops are ready. We wait for this force to walk straight into our trap. Then we close the net!” His voice carried a hint of triumph and amusement. “Go now—the West Gate is prepared. Let’s meet them!”

Tukeslu finally understood, nodding vigorously. As he turned to leave and issue orders, Jiang Mingyu suddenly called out to him.

“How is Shi Zhuo doing?” Jiang Mingyu’s smile vanished. His tone turned serious.

“Brother, rest assured! Since General Shi Zhuo began implementing benevolent governance in the city, the people have rejoiced. Their support echoes everywhere. The hearts of the populace have already turned toward us—Shi Zhuo is swamped with work!” Tukeslu assured him, confidence shining on his face.

Jiang Mingyu nodded in satisfaction, then turned to the table and sat down.

A detailed map lay spread before him, clearly marking Xiongzhou’s layout, civilian districts, and troop deployments. Jiang Mingyu stared at it for a long while, then lifted his gaze toward the northwest—the direction from which the enemy would soon arrive.

A breeze stirred. Sunlight filtered through the tent’s seams. Jiang Mingyu squinted, a slow, dark smile spreading across his lips. His eyes burned with intensity, shadowed and elusive—as if brewing some sinister scheme.

“Think you can run wild on my land? Wei Yangyao… you’re still too green…”

Soon, dozens of officers stood solemnly in the tent, their uniforms crisp and gleaming with cold precision. Their faces were grim, lips pressed tight, eyes fixed straight ahead. Jiang Mingyu, clad in full battle armor, stepped slowly before them. His stride was steady, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze sweeping over his subordinates like twin flames.

“Gentlemen, you’ve all heard the news: the southern barbarian reinforcements will land soon.” He spoke bluntly, his deep, powerful voice echoing through the tent. When he mentioned the southern reinforcements, a sneer of contempt curled his lips.

The officers nodded heavily, their faces etched with grim resolve. Eyebrows furrowed, lips clenched, breaths deepened—signaling that a great battle loomed.

Jiang Mingyu smirked, his voice dripping with disdain: “Since Wei Yangyao insists on sending us such a generous gift, how could we refuse? The battle is near—listen well, all of you!”

Before he finished, the officers snapped to attention, shouting in unison: “Your servant stands ready!” Their voices brimmed with reverence and loyalty toward Jiang Mingyu.

Jiang Mingyu turned to the table, staring at the spread map. His hands pressed against its surface, muscles taut, veins bulging. His expression was no longer calm—it had turned heavy, solemn. He seemed deep in thought, planning his next move. The officers held their breath, awaiting his orders, their eyes filled with admiration and awe.

"Tukeslu," Jiang Mingyu said suddenly, his voice low and powerful.

Tukeslu snapped upright, straightened his cap, and stood tall: “Yes! Your servant obeys!”

Jiang Mingyu slowly turned, his eyes locked on Tukeslu, blazing like torches. Tukeslu swallowed hard but held his ground.

“When the battle begins, prepare to annihilate as many enemy troops as possible. I will hold the rear and support you.”

Tukeslu forced down his nerves and nodded firmly: “I understand. I’ll prepare at once. Rest assured, Brother!”

Once Tukeslu vanished beyond the tent flap, Jiang Mingyu turned to the other two: “He Jing, Doggie. Take thirty thousand troops, circle out through the North and South Gates, then advance west to encircle the enemy’s West Gate!”

Li Doggie and He Jing exchanged glances, eyes alight with excitement. They answered in unison: “Whatever you command, we will carry out! We’ll reduce the southern reinforcements to ashes and win a decisive victory!”

Li Doggie had arrived from Jiangzhou that morning. The two bowed to Jiang Mingyu, then strode out together.

Jiang Mingyu nodded in approval, then paused, his voice turning solemn: “Ebou. I entrust you with twenty thousand men. Your mission is critical.”

Ebou bowed deeply, eyes brimming with reverence: “Your Majesty, command me!”

“Leave immediately through the North Gate. Hide yourselves along the shore. When Tukeslu’s forces engage, burn the enemy ships—cut off their retreat!”

Ebou nodded eagerly, his face tinged with shock and awe—he had never expected such a vital task.

“After you’ve severed their escape, circle around from behind and encircle the West Gate. Join forces with Doggie and trap them between two fires—the southern reinforcements will be utterly annihilated!” He leaned on the table, surveying his officers with unshakable confidence.

Ebou’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. Overcome with emotion, he bowed deeply: “Thank you, Your Majesty, for your trust! I’ll lead my men out at once—I swear I will not fail!”

Jiang Mingyu’s lips curled into a cold smile, his eyes filled with certainty.

After Ebou left, Jiang Mingyu shed his battle-ready sternness and turned to Shi Zhuo, who had remained silent. His tone softened slightly: “With all troops now outside the city, I leave the city’s affairs entirely to you.”

Jiang Mingyu’s face was grave, his eyes betraying quiet worry. He knew the coming battle would be brutal—the southern barbarians were powerful. If the army faltered, the consequences would be catastrophic. Yet he maintained a calm exterior, hiding his inner anxiety from his subordinates.

Shi Zhuo nodded without expression. Before he could speak, Feng Xi interrupted with a look of dejection: “Your Majesty, everyone has been assigned a task—what am I to do?”

Feng Xi leaned forward slightly, eyes filled with urgency and unease. Since losing an arm, he felt everyone—including Jiang Mingyu—had treated him as useless. His most important duty had been transporting grain back to Guizhou. He felt sidelined, forgotten. His shoulders slumped, his face pale and drawn, like a withered flower.

Jiang Mingyu chuckled softly, then placed a hand on Feng Xi’s thin shoulder—a gesture of comfort. His smile carried nostalgia and warmth: “Feng Xi, do you remember your first assignment from me?”

Feng Xi blinked, then replied instinctively: “You entrusted me with command of the reconnaissance unit. I remember—it was your trust in me.” He recalled the thrill and pride of that first moment, when he felt like a wild horse finally freed into a new world. A spark of pride lit his eyes, and a faint smile touched his lips.

Jiang Mingyu nodded approvingly, his expression encouraging. He spoke gently, steadily: “Then from today, you return to your old role.”

Feng Xi’s eyes flashed with surprise, then clouded with doubt. He hesitated: “Your Majesty… meaning…?” He frowned, confused. Could Jiang Mingyu truly mean to restore him to command of the reconnaissance unit? It felt like an impossible dream.

“Immediately dispatch scouts to the remaining southern states. Work with Liu Yi and the others to gather intelligence on the southern barbarians.” Jiang Mingyu explained. “You know how vital this is. I trust you won’t disappoint me.” He raised his gaze, his eyes firm and bright—as if to say: Only you can carry this burden.

Feng Xi bit his lip, stunned by the sudden assignment. But quickly, he steadied himself, bowing solemnly: “Your Majesty, I swear I will not fail. I will gather precise military intelligence on the southern states!” He straightened his back, stood tall, eyes blazing with determination—as if he already saw himself returning in triumph, presenting the intelligence to Jiang Mingyu. This time, he would make his Majesty see him anew.

He strode out, his steps brimming with ambition. The thrill of being trusted again filled him with energy—every motion radiated confidence. This time, he would prove himself. He would never be a useless officer again.

As he turned to leave, a rhythmic thunder of hooves echoed through the camp. Jiang Mingyu glanced outside and saw Ebou’s cavalry forming up, marching steadily toward the city gates. A faint, warm smile touched his lips: “Ebou has departed. The battle is near. Each of you, to your duties.”

Jiang Mingyu turned to Feng Xi, his gaze filled with encouragement and expectation. Feng Xi met his eyes, resolute, burning with determination. Their gazes locked—no words needed. This time, Feng Xi would not betray Jiang Mingyu’s trust.

Feng Xi bowed respectfully, then strode out with proud steps, already imagining his triumphant return. Jiang Mingyu watched him go, a look of quiet satisfaction on his face.

Half an hour later, Tukeslu burst in, dusty and breathless: “Brother, just as you predicted—the southern reinforcements, sixty thousand strong, have landed on the shore and are advancing toward the West Gate!”

Jiang Mingyu nodded calmly, as if he’d expected nothing less: “Good. Order the troops out the West Gate. Let’s meet the southern barbarians.”

Less than a meal’s time later, fifty thousand troops stood in perfect formation at the West Gate, weapons in hand, radiating fury and determination. Jiang Mingyu brushed his sleeve lightly, then ordered in a deep voice: “Beat the drums!”

Three thunderous drumbeats echoed. Across the field, the southern army also formed their lines. The two forces stood poised—battle imminent.

From the enemy’s banner line, a towering southern barbarian with a thick beard, clad in armor and wielding a long spear, spurred his horse forward. He scanned the opposing army, then bellowed: “Dogs of the Great Jiang! Listen! I am Commander Che Gang of the Southern Realm! Bring out Jiang Mingyu!”

Tukeslu’s fury ignited. He raised his sword, pointing at Che Gang: “You insolent fool! How dare you speak so boldly between two armies? Who gave you the nerve? Listen well, brat—I’ll give you one chance: surrender your troops now, and you might keep your miserable life. Say another word, and your fate will mirror Jia Fu and Tong Wa’s yesterday. If I don’t slaughter every last one of you, I’ll reverse my name—Tukeslu!”

At the name “Tukeslu,” Che Gang’s pupils shrank sharply. “You… you’re Tukeslu?” Since the fall of Jiancheng and Jiangzhou, the Black-faced Yama’s name had spread terror through the southern ranks.

Tukeslu puffed out his chest: “That’s right. What of it, boy?”

Tukeslu’s smile turned icy, his eyes glinting with cold light: “You’re lucky you came now. Heed my warning—surrender while you still can. Otherwise, when battle begins, no matter your rank, you’ll die right here.”

Che Gang realized his earlier words had revealed weakness—a fatal mistake for a commander. He cursed himself inwardly. If his men heard this, his reputation would be ruined.

He forced a cold laugh: “They say Tukeslu is fearless and invincible. But I see only a skinny, dark-skinned peasant. Truly disappointing. I’m ashamed to face you.”

With that, Che Gang raised his spear, thrusting its tip directly at Tukeslu: “Tukeslu, listen well! Surrender now, or your entire army will be buried here! When I crush you, your Emperor Jiang Mingyu will die too—and the Great Jiang will fall!”

Tukeslu remained unmoved. Slowly, he raised his sword, its tip aimed at Che Gang. “Insolent fool! To speak such lies on the battlefield—you must be begging for death. Is this all the southern barbarians are capable of?”

Che Gang’s face darkened. He knew Tukeslu was no ordinary man—but if he stepped forward to duel, his authority over sixty thousand men would collapse. He forced a cold sneer: “How dare a mere peasant speak to me like this? Do you know who I am? I didn’t come here to brawl with a common soldier!”

Jiang Mingyu watched silently, nodding inwardly. He recognized Che Gang had some wit—but the southern barbarians were already caught in his net. Their doom was sealed. A slow, cold smile curled on Jiang Mingyu’s lips. These southern vermin dared to play king on his land?