Chapter 62: No Other Choice

The foreign commander’s face was grim, his bloody lips staining his entire face.

His already small eyes now bulged wide as he trembled, pointing at Jiang Mingyu: “You… you put poison in the wine?!”

He opened his mouth to roar, but only managed a faint, ragged breath.

Around him, the foreigners also spat blood in agony; some struggled to rise and draw their swords, only to collapse helplessly to the ground; others convulsed, reaching for table edges, yet even their fingertips shook uncontrollably.

The floor was littered with crimson pools spilled from their mouths.

A cold glint flashed in Jiang Mingyu’s eyes, erasing all earlier subservience. He surveyed the writhing foreigners with indifference and sneered: “You didn’t really think I was afraid of you, did you?”

“Who do you think I am? Would I bow and surrender so easily? To swallow me whole, your teeth aren’t nearly hard enough.”

He stepped closer to the wide-eyed foreign commander, looking down with contempt: “You thought I’d be like those pathetic officials of old—terrified at the first whisper of danger? Ridiculous! All my groveling was just a trick, meant to lure you in!”

“How laughable, you fools, so full of yourselves—before a single battle, you’re already celebrating a phantom victory, blind to the fact that Death stands right behind you!”

Jiang Mingyu’s face showed no fear, only irony and mockery in his tone.

The foreign commander strained to lift his head, eyes bloodshot, glaring with fury.

Jiang Mingyu met his rage without flinching, continuing to sneer: “Your people are fierce, no doubt—but you’re always simple-minded, wielding blades but never brains. Especially you, so-called leader—strong as an ox, yet empty-headed.”

“Now do you see your mistake? You thought marching boldly into my territory meant I’d surrender? Your thinking is absurdly naive!”

The foreign commander gritted his teeth and screamed: “My army will come for vengeance soon—when they arrive, they’ll slaughter every soul in your city, and make each of you...”

Before he could finish, Jiang Mingyu cut him off mercilessly: “Do you think if I’d welcomed you like ancestral guests, you’d spare me?”

“You came to my Great Feng lands to burn, kill, and invade—and now you act like I owe you something? What kind of creature are you?”

“If you truly had the strength to launch a major offensive, you wouldn’t have sent only this pitiful handful to besiege my walls today.”

“If my estimate is correct, by next spring, you won’t even be able to muster a large-scale attack.”

“You can barely feed yourselves—how can you still have the strength to wield swords?”

Jiang Mingyu’s tone grew increasingly arrogant, his eyes radiating unwavering confidence: “Believe me, your day of annihilation is near. The graves prepared for you are already waiting at the border!”

The foreign commander’s eyes bulged, his forehead veins throbbing, his neck flushed crimson—he looked ready to choke to death.

With his last ounce of strength, he rasped: “Even if… I die… as a ghost… I won’t… forgive you… wait… and see…”

Jiang Mingyu watched coldly, showing no pity, only a bitter laugh: “Then make sure you look well—I don’t want you haunting the wrong man after death.”

Finally, the commander’s voice faded, and his breath ceased.

Jiang Mingyu’s gaze turned icy, his voice calm as he ordered his trusted aide, Tukesiluo: “Check every one of them. Leave no one still breathing.”

Tukesiluo hurriedly replied: “Yes, Lord Jiang.”

Jiang Mingyu continued: “Behead all these dead foreigners. Cut off their heads and nail them one by one to the North Gate wall—for three days.”

Tukesiluo hesitated, then ventured cautiously: “Is this to show the people proof of our great victory over the foreign enemy, to boost morale?”

Jiang Mingyu didn’t answer directly, only said softly: “I’d rather this news reach the foreign tribes—so they know the Great Feng isn’t some easy target for plundering.”

“If they wish to act rashly, they’d better think twice.”

Tukesiluo nodded understandingly: “Understood, Lord Jiang. I’ll handle it at once.”

Jiang Mingyu’s expression didn’t change; he turned and walked away slowly.

That evening, the North Gate, hung with mangled skulls, instantly became the town’s hottest attraction; the crowds murmured among themselves:

“Did you hear? These bastards were all tricked and killed by the Imperial Envoy!”

“Really? He took out this many beasts by himself?”

“Of course! Don’t you know how brilliant our lord is? Utterly wise and courageous!”

“Incredible! Now if those foreigners dare come again, they’ll regret it...”

“...”

The murmurs continued endlessly; Li Goudan and Cloud of the Murong both blushed with shame, heads bowed, silently thinking how they’d earlier judged Jiang Mingyu as groveling and weak.

Jiang Mingyu paid no mind, smiling: “I know what you thought—just now, even I felt like a traitorous lackey.” He paused, then spoke earnestly: “But you must understand—I had no other choice.”

As he spoke, Jiang Mingyu clasped his hands behind his back, his expression grave.

“If I’d held out to the end, how could five of us have stood against a hundred cavalry?”

“Rushing out to fight would’ve been suicide—even with Tukesiluo’s skill, we couldn’t overcome such overwhelming odds.”

Li Goudan suddenly understood, nodding vigorously in agreement.

Jiang Mingyu smiled faintly, then strolled back toward them.

“So surrendering, feigning weakness, luring them deeper—that was the only viable strategy.” As he spoke, his eyes were resolute, his tone steady.

“Though my actions cost me some dignity, the outcome proves every sacrifice was worth it.” His voice rose slightly, and a faint smile touched his lips.

“We wiped out those foreign curs—and seized their warhorses.”

“More importantly, this victory restored the people’s hope—they now see that defeating the foreigners is possible.”

As he said this, his voice and expression radiated quiet relief and joy.

“As the Art of War says: when ruler and ruled are united, great achievements follow. The complete defeat of the foreigners is within reach.”

Then, puzzled, he turned to Cloud of the Murong: “How did you manage to prepare the food and wine so quickly?”

Cloud of the Murong smiled slyly, replying with a playful glint: “That secret? I’ll show you my skills myself—when the time comes.” He winked mischievously.

That night, colorful fireworks burst across the county’s sky, illuminating the surrounding miles with radiant light.

The thunderous booms of fireworks echoed one after another, mingling with distant gongs and drums—every corner of the county drowned in festive revelry.

Inside the yamen, Cloud of the Murong, Wu Xiao, Li Goudan, and Tukesiluo stepped into the courtyard, gazing up at the dazzling fireworks, their faces lit with unmistakable joy.

“So beautiful—I’ve never seen fireworks like this!” Wu Xiao cried happily.

“What a perfect omen for victory! Tonight, the whole town is celebrating!” Li Goudan beamed.

“I say our Imperial Envoy’s clever plan makes him the true hero!” Tukesiluo said, and all nodded in agreement, laughing.

The four stood beneath the fireworks, gazing at the brilliant night sky, their faces filled with rare happiness.

Jiang Mingyu stood at the courtyard’s center, hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the heavens, lost in thought.

After a moment, he turned slowly to face the four men standing rigidly before him, speaking solemnly: “I know you’re all basking in the joy of victory—but we still have much to do. Don’t grow complacent.”

At once, the four tensed, their smiles vanishing; they straightened their postures, eyes fixed on Jiang Mingyu, waiting for his orders.

Jiang Mingyu scanned them once, ensuring their full attention, then spoke calmly: “First, accelerate coal mining. We must stockpile enough coal before spring arrives.”

“To prevent starving foreigners from launching another attack—we’ll need to shut down the mines and cut off their fuel supply.” As he spoke, his brow furrowed, a shadow of gravity in his eyes.

“That mine is our sole source of revenue; Longteng County is our only buyer—we cannot afford to disrupt this trade.” Jiang Mingyu emphasized each word.

“Moreover, the city walls must be repaired without delay—not just the North Gate, but the East, South, and West walls too. Every section must be reinforced, every weakness guarded, to ensure the people’s safety.”

Seeing all four nod solemnly, Jiang Mingyu’s tone shifted, growing grave: “But what comes next is most critical.”

The four were startled, their expressions turning serious once more, waiting in silence.

Jiang Mingyu paced slowly to stand before them, speaking deliberately: “You saw the city defense unit sent by Prince Qi—worthless, a disorganized mob.”

“Less than a hundred foreign raiders sent them fleeing in panic. When the real foreign army comes, can we still rely on them?”

All four lowered their heads, knowing Jiang Mingyu spoke the truth.

“As I’ve said before—relying on others is never a lasting solution. To repel the foreigners, we must rely on ourselves.” His voice was firm, his eyes blazing with conviction.

“Cloud of the Murong, select the strongest among the laborers—train them in martial arts and mounted archery.”

“We must build our own force through discipline—this will be our vital asset against the foreigners in the days ahead.”

At this, Cloud of the Murong froze, then urgently said: “Lord Envoy, in peacetime, raising a private army is a capital offense! Please reconsider!”

“The risk is too great—you could lose your head for this. Think carefully!” Cloud of the Murong’s face was filled with dread.

No one expected that Jiang Mingyu, who had just escaped death, was now once again dancing on the edge of suicide.

Jiang Mingyu shrugged, stretching lazily, his tone dripping with sarcasm: “Do you think avoiding private recruitment will save your head? If Prince Qi had the strength to defend the Great Feng, do you think I’d risk this?”

He sighed deeply, helplessly: “I don’t want this either—but the situation leaves me with no choice.”