Chapter 150: Liberation

December 26, 1936, the cold night over Xi'an City was shrouded in lead‑gray mist. Inside Yang's mansion, Yang Hucheng stood with his back to the door, having just seen off the last batch of trusted subordinates. Each person's gaze carried bewilderment as they slipped away silently into the night. The white hair at his temples stood out sharply in the lamp light—grown from days of scorching toil. The composure he had forced during the day finally shattered completely after learning that Zhang Xueliang had been placed under house arrest.

The door hinge creaked open, and Li Yuxuan, wrapped in a chill, walked in. His army boots struck the blue bricks, each step steady and forceful, echoing distinctly in the silent room.

"Lord Jing." Yang Hucheng turned slowly, his voice hoarse. The eyes that once held heroic spirit were now filled with fatigue, as if covered by a thick fog, "Han Qing… really under house arrest?" he asked cautiously, with a lingering thread of hope.

Li Yuxuan did not answer directly, walked straight to the table and sat down. He lifted the cool tea with his fingertips, brought it to his lips and then slammed it down, the porcelain cup striking the tabletop with a crisp clink.

"Director Yang, given the situation, you should consider yourself and the tens of thousands of Seventeenth Route Army brothers under your command," his voice was low but each word clear, "On the twelfth, when you and Han Qing were operating at Huaqing Pool, you should have foreseen today."

Hearing this, Yang Hucheng's back straightened slightly, a stubborn glint flashing in his eyes: "I, Yang Hucheng, have devoted my life to the nation and have never done anything that wronged the people! At that time Huabei was in crisis, the Japanese Invaders pressing step by step, yet the principal was solely focused on Bandit Suppression, ignoring the nation's peril—my actions were to force him to resist the Japanese!"

"Anti-Japanese?" Li Yuxuan shook his head lightly, his tone complex, "Pointing a gun at one's own leader is, in Jinling's eyes, treason. Director Yang, you are a soldier; you should understand the weight of the words 'Subordinates Rebel Against Superiors.'" He paused, his voice deepening, "The principal's safe departure from Xi'an without an immediate order to advance already gave you a massive favor. Do you think the Seventeenth Route Army can hold back the Fifth Army and the Eighteenth Army?"

Yang Hucheng's complexion turned pale instantly. He was not unaware of the disparity in strength, but had clung to a sliver of hope—that perhaps the principal truly considered the Anti-Japanese grand cause and would let past deeds pass. Yet Li Yuxuan's words now were like a bucket of ice water, dousing all his hope.

"I am not demanding total annihilation," Li Yuxuan's gaze swept over Yang Hucheng's despondent appearance, lingering on the white hair at his temples, stirring something inexplicable within. He recalled his original purpose for coming to this era, the experiences of these years, his hands already stained with blood. He felt anger toward Yang Hucheng, yet seeing this general who had wagered everything for the Anti-Japanese cause, the faint remnant of his conscience ached faintly.

"The principal's intention is that you be reassigned as a member of the Military Committee, to go to Jinling at once and await orders. The Seventeenth Route Army will be reorganized as the Thirty‑eighth Army, its structure unchanged, its pay fully provided by the central government, and Sun Weiru will assume the position of Army Commander. Your former troops, as long as they keep to themselves, will be pardoned entirely." He stared into Yang Hucheng's eyes, saying each word, "This is the only way."

Yang Hucheng closed his eyes, two streams of tears sliding down his cheeks. In his life he had fought on battlefields, protected the land and its people, never wronged anyone, yet now he found himself in this predicament. He did not fear death; as a soldier, Die in Battle was destiny. But he feared endangering tens of thousands of brothers, feared letting down those subordinates who had entrusted their lives and fortunes to him.

"I… agree with you." After a long pause he opened his eyes, his voice hoarse, "I will relinquish military power and go to Jinling. But I have one request—my wife and children, they are innocent; can you… spare them a way to live?" His voice grew lower, finally almost a whisper.

Li Yuxuan looked at the pleading in his eyes, the conflict within him intensifying. He knew Yang Hucheng's fate was already sealed; all he could do was leave a tiny, insignificant warmth within this predetermined tragedy.

He stood, his tone still calm but carrying a barely perceptible promise: "I will ensure one of your sons survives safely."

The words struck like thunder in Yang Hucheng's ears. He jerked his head up, looking at Li Yuxuan in disbelief, the shock in his eyes quickly giving way to pain. He had four sons, each a beloved child, but at this life‑or‑death moment, saving even one child's life was the greatest luxury in a chaotic world.

His lips trembled, wanting to ask for more, but in the end he simply bowed his head heavily.

Li Yuxuan said no more, turned and walked toward the door. The moment he stepped out of the secret chamber, he inhaled a gust of biting cold wind, the icy air stabbing his throat.

Inside the secret chamber, Yang Hucheng slowly slumped to the floor, hands clasping his head, a suppressed sob leaking through his fingers, echoing in the empty room before turning into uncontrollable, anguished crying.

Li Yuxuan paused outside the door for a moment, his gaze cast toward the distant, heavy night.