Chapter 390: The Final Act of Loyalty

For days, Jiang Mingyu anxiously awaited intelligence from Feng Xi’s scouts. Meanwhile, Liu Yi’s trade with the Western Xia flourished wildly, silver pouring in. In Jincheng, under the watch of Zhuge Yu, all was peaceful and serene.

On the fifth day, Sui Min arrived with fifty thousand reinforcements and joined forces with Tukesiluo, ready to launch the first battle for Gaobao City. As the sun dipped low, Feng Xi’s scouts finally returned, breathless, reporting the southern frontier’s military situation.

Wei Yangyao had learned of the losses at Lingtaicheng and Jingxiang and was mobilizing two hundred thousand new conscripts to hold Gaobao City tight. The commander of this force? A man named Huo Zhun.

Huo Zhun? Jiang Mingyu glanced skeptically at Che Gang. The latter adjusted his spectacles and said, “He’s merely a courtier who climbed to power by marrying a princess—his experience is shallow, no threat. Otherwise, why would Wei Yangyao wait until Your Majesty’s army reached the city gates before sending him out?”

Saying this, Che Gang sneered. "Sending him to command proves the entire southern frontier has no true general left. Thirty years without war have dulled every blade. Even Fang Wen, once famed throughout the land, now languishes in prison, his fate unknown."

Jiang Mingyu laughed bitterly. “So even in Gaobao City, they can’t find a single capable officer? The southern frontier has grown utterly lazy.”

Che Gang sighed deeply. He said Jiang Mingyu’s southern campaign would expose every incompetent general of the south. When the time came, they’d be caught like chickens beneath an eagle’s talons, at his mercy.

Che Gang’s contempt for the southern civil officials ran even deeper. Wei Yangyao had a fetish for strange rocks, and his ministers scoured the land to collect odd stones to curry favor.

Jia Tong had even torn down half of Tagang’s city wall just to transport one massive monkey-shaped rock. This spectacle inspired the people to imitate him, all chasing fleeting favor. Fields lay fallow, the people starved.

Jiang Mingyu sneered. He thought: such a foolish ruler, such a rotten state—its fall was inevitable. Che Gang, equally enraged, urged His Majesty to press the advantage, strike swiftly, and end it.

But Jiang Mingyu remembered the vast Nan Yuan Sea beyond Gaobao City. Past southern rulers had sent expeditions to sea, seeking new continents beyond the horizon. Yet every voyage ended in failure—ships lost, crews drowned, no land found.

Now it seemed this continent was the whole world. Jiang Mingyu felt some relief—he knew Wei Yangyao was trapped in Gaobao City, with no escape possible.

He immediately ordered an all-out assault on the city the next day, leaving only five thousand troops under Chu Zhao to guard Lingtaicheng. The rest of the army would march forth to burn Gaobao City to ashes with Wei Yangyao.

Che Gang, ecstatic, shouted he wished to lead the vanguard to avenge his dead family. But Jiang Mingyu knew his heart was filled with hatred—if Che Gang commanded the vanguard, he’d act recklessly and endanger the whole campaign.

This left Che Gang visibly disappointed, yet he gritted his teeth and accepted. He knew Jiang Mingyu’s promise to kill Wei Yangyao himself was the greatest comfort possible. He could no longer let personal vengeance hinder the grand plan...

On the day of departure, fierce winds howled, snapping the banners. Jiang Mingyu held his longsword, face resolute, behind him over a hundred thousand troops stood ready.

He raised his voice: “This is the final moment of our southern campaign! Crush the southern frontier, and our Great Jiang shall unify the world! You shall be etched into history—immortal legends!”

Soldiers roared in fervor, chanting “Victory!” The massive army began to move. Li Goudan edged close to Jiang Mingyu and asked for the plan to breach the city.

Jiang Mingyu paused. “Wei Yangyao has conscripted two hundred thousand new troops, but they’re untrained. We need only deal with the eighty thousand veterans inside and their commander, Huo Zhun.”

Li Goudan scoffed. “Huo Zhun? A man who rose through women—what kind of general is he?” Before he finished speaking, Jiang Mingyu’s face darkened. “Beware of underestimating the enemy—failure will be ours!”

Li Goudan shrank back, grinning nervously. Then E Bu spoke up: “If we attack from east and west, Huo Zhun won’t dare sortie. Even if he wanted to, Wei Yangyao would never allow it—otherwise, he’d be trapped when the city falls.”

Li Goudan scratched his head. “Then we’re left with a frontal assault? But Gaobao City’s defenses are strong—we’ll suffer heavy losses.” Officers exchanged glances, silent.

Jiang Mingyu revealed his three strategies. All officers leaned forward, listening intently.

Jiang Mingyu raised one finger. “The worst strategy is Li Goudan’s frontal assault—too costly. Only use it as last resort. Set aside for now.”

Li Goudan nodded eagerly. “What’s the middle strategy?” Jiang Mingyu raised his middle finger. “Lure Huo Zhun out, crush him in open battle, then take the city.”

Feng Xi interjected: “E Bu already said Huo Zhun won’t fall for it.” Jiang Mingyu replied: “Nothing is absolute. With the right strategy, success is possible. But due to too many uncertainties, we rank it as the middle option.”

He raised three fingers. “The best strategy? Use the environment to deliver a fatal blow. Zhuge Yu said earth, wood, stone—all can be weapons. This is the least costly method.”

E Bu instantly understood. He looked up at the autumn wind sweeping the sky. “Are you planning to set fire to the city?”

Jiang Mingyu laughed. “Exactly. Fire arrows from east and west, riding the autumn winds—fire will rage through the city. We storm while it burns; the enemy will flee in terror.”

E Bu hesitated. “But wind shifts. What if it blows the wrong way?” Che Gang spoke, firm as iron: “Autumn winds always blow from northwest toward Nan Yuan Sea, until southeast winds return next season. This plan is certain.”

All officers nodded in agreement. Jiang Mingyu immediately ordered Feng Xi to send word to Jingxiang: instruct Tukesiluo to prepare for fire assault, ready to act at any moment.

After giving the order, the army marched again, rumbling forward under Jiang Mingyu’s lead, slowly advancing toward Gaobao City...

That night, Jiang Mingyu dreamed—of Zhang Jiaqi, the woman he’d released in the Western Xia. In the dream, she smiled gently, her brown eyes filled with quiet hope, never looking away. He opened his mouth to ask where she was—then the dream vanished.

Jiang Mingyu jolted awake, sweat beading on his forehead. He stared blankly at the dark tent ceiling, her smile still echoing in his mind. Perhaps he hadn’t seen her since leaving the Western Xia—that’s why she appeared. He scoffed at himself, wiped the sweat away.

For the next several days, the army advanced slowly. Gaobao City remained silent. Jiang Mingyu sat cross-legged in his tent, fingers tapping rhythmically on his knees. He guessed Wei Yangyao intended to hold Gaobao City to the last, a final stand. The closer they came to Nan Yuan Sea, the stronger the wind. Jiang Mingyu inhaled the salty sea air—and faintly, he saw the city ablaze. A cold smile touched his lips; his right hand tightened around the sword at his side.

After setting up camp that night, exhausted Jiang soldiers gobbled dry rations and collapsed into sleep. At the third watch, Jiang Mingyu was jolted awake by hurried footsteps. He threw on his robe and strode out. Under moonlight, a panting young scout knelt, gasping: “Feng Xi is here!” Jiang Mingyu nodded, dismissed him. After a meal’s time, Feng Xi emerged alone, cloak wrapped tight. He glanced at Jiang Mingyu with cold detachment, then turned and left the camp. Dawn was breaking—calm returned, as if nothing had happened.

Half an hour later, at the first watch, a dark mass appeared a mile south of camp—over a thousand shadowy figures. They moved stealthily, clearly aiming to ambush. Beneath flickering campfires, their leader raised a hand in the dark, halting the group. When all stopped, he whispered: “That’s Jiang Mingyu’s camp. Move quietly—don’t alert the patrols. Once we fire, retreat into the woods. Repeated night raids will break these Jiang soldiers’ spirits.”

A voice beside him eagerly agreed: “Your Majesty’s brilliance! This plan is perfect. We harass them endlessly—even if Jiang Mingyu survives, his men will be worn to bone. By the time he realizes, he’ll be too weak to stand!” The man chuckled smugly. But the leader frowned. “Enough talk. Move!”

The shadowy figures crept silently toward the camp. The camp lay dead silent—only the occasional snore of a soldier, the tread of a night watchman. After half a meal’s time, the leader halted them again. He smiled, satisfied—they were only a hundred meters from the camp. He raised his hand: “Light the arrows!”

The man at the head of the crowd blinked in shock and stammered, “You… you’re Jiang Mingyu himself?” Jiang Mingyu smiled. “That’s right. You thought your movements were hidden? There were scouts watching you all along—you were locked onto eight li away. Now you’re finally trapped here!” With that, he sneered, “Brilliant plan? Ridiculous!”

Dozens of torches flared in the dense woods, revealing a net of arrows—hundreds of gleaming tips aimed at them, strings humming with tension. A young face stepped forward—Jiang Mingyu himself. Calm under moonlight, he watched the fire dancing on arrowheads, smiling faintly. “Gentlemen, disturbing you at this hour? My apologies. Surrender—or die. Choose.”

Someone in the crowd had already drawn a longbow, the arrowpoint aimed at Jiang Mingyu’s vital spot. Seeing this, Li Goudan gave an unhesitating order: “Fire!” In an instant, the arrows of the Dajiang warriors rained down, covering heaven and earth; before the Southern Frontier attackers could react, they were pierced like hedgehogs. The man at the head of the crowd

Jiang Mingyu smiled. “Correct. You thought you were hidden? We’ve had scouts watching since you were eight li away. Now you’re trapped.”

He sneered. “Brilliant plan? Ridiculous.”

Li Goudan raised his hand, as if to fire. But the leader’s face hardened. “Surrender? Ha! Even if we die, we’ll spill Jiang blood five steps wide!” He roared, igniting the crowd’s fury. They’d come prepared to die—still, they wouldn’t yield. Kill Jiang Mingyu, and they’d win.

Some had already drawn their bows, arrows aimed at Jiang Mingyu’s vital points. Li Goudan didn’t hesitate. “Fire!”

In an instant, a rain of arrows blotted out the sky. The southern attackers had no time to react—they were pierced like hedgehogs. The leader collapsed, pierced by seventy or eighty arrows. His eyes burned red, fixed on Jiang Mingyu as if to devour him. He threw his head back, screamed into the night, then his neck snapped—blood gushed from his mouth.

Jiang Mingyu’s face was grim. “Goudan, send word to Feng Xi—strengthen reconnaissance ahead. Wei Yangyao has more tricks. We must be ready.”

Li Goudan hurried to send riders. Meanwhile, Jiang Mingyu walked slowly to the dead man’s body, looking down. He wore southern attire—clearly a spy planted by Wei Yangyao. Jiang Mingyu spat on him, kicked his corpse, then turned away. His face was blank as he ordered: “Collect and burn.”

The night wind howled, flickering the torches. Jiang Mingyu stared toward Gaobao City, eyes sharp as ice. Wei Yangyao—the final battle begins now!

The next day, Jiang Mingyu ordered a full-speed advance on Gaobao City, waiting only for Tukesiluo’s arrival to launch the final assault.

Yet he remained cautious, fearing another night ambush. He frowned, scanning the surroundings, body slightly bent, ready to react.

But the southerners vanished. Until Jiang Mingyu reached within a hundred li of Gaobao City, not a single enemy stirred. He exhaled slightly, shoulders relaxing, a hint of ease on his face.

Meanwhile, Tukesiluo reported: he, He Jing, and Sui Min were now only three hundred li from Gaobao City. Tukesiluo gripped his whip, a rare smile touching his lips.

Like Jiang Mingyu, Tukesiluo’s group had also been ambushed days ago. Fortunately, Sui Min spotted them in time, leapt onto his horse, and led a counterattack—destroying the enemy before chaos spread. Sui Min wiped sweat, sighed in relief.

As they neared Gaobao City, the land grew barren. Soon, Jiang Mingyu saw no people at all. He frowned, face darkening. He sneered—Wei Yangyao, cornered, had resorted to scorched earth.

He ordered his men not to drink from nearby water sources, then waved his hand—half the army entered the hills to find water, half pressed forward. The march was grueling; faces were weary.

Their pace slowed to match Tukesiluo’s. The two armies arrived at Gaobao City nearly simultaneously. Jiang Mingyu gazed from afar, a cold smile on his lips, eyes resolute.

Tukesiluo received orders not to burn the city immediately, but to set up camp and rest his men. He understood: the army was exhausted from the long march. He nodded, smoothing his robes.

Without rest, if southern troops sallied out, these weary men couldn’t stand. Tukesiluo frowned, grim and determined. While Jiang Mingyu and Tukesiluo’s armies rested outside, Gaobao City was shrouded in gloom.

In the vast palace, pale-faced Wei Yangyao stared at his ministers. He gripped the dragon throne’s armrests, eyes filled with anxiety and fury.

“Jiang Mingyu advances relentlessly—he’s now at Gaobao’s gates. My ministers, what is your plan to repel him?” His voice trembled with urgency.

This meeting had lasted three days. The usual sycophants had all turned mute. Heads bowed, faces exhausted, no one spoke.

Seeing them, Wei Yangyao regretted bitterly—why had he ever been foolish enough to attack Guizhou? Had he not, he might have been Jiang Mingyu’s friendly neighbor—not now, facing annihilation. He shook his head bitterly, tears forming in his eyes.

After long silence, Huo Zhun—a handsome young officer—stepped forward. He stood straight, calm, as if the crisis meant nothing.

“Your Majesty, since no one else has a plan, I reiterate my advice: hold Gaobao City. Jiang Mingyu’s supply lines are stretched thin. If we wait, he’ll collapse under his own weight. Then we turn the tide.”

His voice was steady, confident. He’d said this for three days. At first, the court had opposed him—every minister believed hiding behind walls dishonored the emperor. Some even accused Huo Zhun of colluding with Wang Yi, secretly aiding Jiang Mingyu to destroy the southern realm.

But now, with Jiang Mingyu’s armies at the gates, even his critics nodded. As long as Gaobao held, their comfort lasted. Wei Yangyao had no choice.

If Huo Zhun’s plan succeeded, they’d claim credit. If Gaobao fell, they’d abandon Wei Yangyao and surrender to Jiang Mingyu. Jiang Mingyu would need them to rule—so their power would survive. Their faces brightened, eyes glinting with cunning.

Wei Yangyao was about to accept Huo Zhun’s plan when a young general suddenly stepped forward. His eyes burned bright, calm despite the siege.

“Your Majesty, no.”

His voice rang clear.

Wei Yangyao, bloodshot eyes lifting, gave a weary smile. He was almost amused—Peng Mu’s boldness had startled him, yet he felt a flicker of admiration.

“Your Majesty,” he said calmly, “just now, as I climbed the wall to observe, I saw the troops in Jiang Mingyu’s eastern and western camps sound asleep.”

He wondered: why had this man been silent for two days, now speaking at the last moment?

Peng Mu bowed respectfully. “Your Majesty, I climbed the walls and saw Jiang Mingyu’s eastern and western camps—every soldier sleeps.”

“They’re resting to regain strength for the assault. But this also reveals their arrogance. They’ve grown spoiled by easy victories.”

He looked up, disdain in his eyes. “To sleep with thirty thousand enemy troops outside their gates? This isn’t arrogance—it’s insolence.”

He clenched his fists. “I request permission to lead a cavalry force out. While Jiang Mingyu’s men are still weak, I’ll strike their camp.”

“It won’t crush them—but it will restore our morale. What do you think, Your Majesty?” His eyes held quiet hope.

Wei Yangyao rose from his throne, eyes alight. Color returned to his face. “Peng Mu, understand—Jiang Mingyu is powerful. You may not return.”

Peng Mu didn’t hesitate. “To die for the nation—I fear nothing.”

“For Your Majesty’s eternal reign, for the three hundred thousand soldiers in this city—I go without hesitation.”

Wei Yangyao’s fire burned brighter. He slammed his fist on the desk—CRASH!

“Good! With loyal men like you, our southern realm will not perish!” His voice shook the walls, rattling the paintings.

“I give you five thousand troops—and this jade-inlaid bow. May it aid you in battle.” His eyes gleamed with hope.

Peng Mu knelt, forehead touching the floor. “Thank Your Majesty’s grace!” His bow was perfect—his head nearly kissed the ground.

Before rising, he lifted his head again, hesitation in his eyes. “I have one more request.”

A request?

At this moment, even ten requests wouldn’t be refused. Wei Yangyao had seen his first glimmer of hope—he wouldn’t block it now.

Seeing Wei Yangyao nod slowly, Peng Mu drew a deep breath. “Release Fang Wen, the Vice Minister of War. He’s brilliant—he can help you hold Gaobao City.”

His voice trembled. He kept his head down, afraid to meet Wei Yangyao’s gaze.

His words shattered the silence.

The officials, who had been silent as mice moments before, immediately erupted. They leapt from their seats, shouting objections one after another.

“Your Majesty, do not release Fang Wen!”

“He conspired with the deposed crown prince! He spoke treason against you! He must not be freed!”

“Exactly! Peng Mu seeks to revive the crown prince’s faction! His intentions are evil!”

The palace exploded—shouts, accusations, gestures flying. Faces flushed, voices shrill, as if they’d tear Peng Mu apart.

Wei Yangyao’s face darkened. He hadn’t expected this. The deposed crown prince? Ou Feng—the son who opposed his war against the Great Jiang, and was imprisoned for it.

That whining son had tormented him endlessly. Now, he thought Peng Mu was threatening him: release Fang Wen, or I won’t fight. Wei Yangyao’s rage surged—he wanted to tear Peng Mu into pieces.

"Quiet down, all of you!" Wei Yangyao roared suddenly, and the ministers fell silent, reluctantly.

"Very well, Peng Mu. I agree—so long as you lead troops out to fight, I shall release Fang Wen immediately." Wei Yangyao forced a smile, suppressing his anger.

Peng Mu gazed earnestly at Wei Yangyao; when he saw the emperor nod, he bowed deeply in thanks, then immediately went to the main camp to muster the troops.

Once Peng Mu’s figure vanished beyond the palace gate, Wei Yangyao’s face darkened, his eyes glinting with coldness.

"Your Majesty, do you truly intend to release Fang Wen?" Chancellor Cong Xian hurriedly asked.

"That is impossible." Wei Yangyao snorted coldly and swept his sleeve away.