Chapter 170: Despicable Yet Admirable

The forest was full of hidden dangers. Shuxiu, Yang Qingfeng, Ning Emei, and Wei Shuyang's two groups had gathered, feeling frustrated despite their strength, unable to pin down their target. Several times, they almost completed their encirclement, but the young man always found an opportunity to escape, as slippery and elusive as an eel. Once, a short halberd from Ning Emei even pierced the man's arm. Yet, after enduring a blow from the old Taoist priest of Jiudoumi, the young man used the momentum to roll several times, defiantly declaring, "Grandson, for the grace of this halberd today, your grandpa will repay you twofold in the future!" He then slammed his shoulder into a nearby Phoenix Camp light cavalryman, sending the rider heavily injured, before darting back into the shadows of the forest.

All three of Yang Qingfeng's red-clawed rats were dead; the last two had been crushed to death by the man. Shuxiu's face was extremely grim. The best opportunity had come when the foul-mouthed young man was hit by a powerful blast, cornered, yet despite Shuxiu's formidable internal energy, capable of unleashing the Red-Armored Talisman General, she only managed to slam Yuan against a tree. The tree, thick as a man's arm, had snapped, but Yuan was still alive. This was clearly not Shuxiu playing a cat-and-mouse game; a single blow from her should have disemboweled him.

Shuxiu couldn't fathom the strangeness of it all. If it were a simple matter of combined force, their side far outmatched the young man. However, while Yuan Tingshan's knife skills were fierce, he himself was remarkably cautious. He seemed to possess an acute sense of danger, slipping away at the last moment each time their net was about to close.

Ning Emei scooped water from the stream, splashing his face. Calmly, he said, "This man is a born scout."

Shuxiu, slightly annoyed, retorted, "General Ning, if we can't catch this man, we shouldn't even leave the mountains!"

Yang Qingfeng, his face expressionless, said, "With the Young Master's gyrfalcon helping us track him, we'll catch him."

Shuxiu's anger intensified, and she scoffed, "How impressive!"

Wei Shuyang, playing the peacemaker, interjected, "No rush, no rush. The Phoenix Camp is adept at night travel, we'll pursue him for another night. If we still can't find him by tomorrow morning, we'll leave the mountains immediately and head to Zhizhang City. If His Highness gets angry then, this humble Taoist will bear the responsibility alone."

Shuxiu looked relieved. Ning Emei frowned, then quietly turned his head and asked, "How many arrows are left?" Due to the intensity of the chase, many fired arrows couldn't be retrieved. Excluding the heavily injured cavalryman, the remaining nine Phoenix Camp light cavalrymen reported their individual counts.

Ning Emei said, "Reallocate them; four arrows per person. Zhu Zhi, Ye Zhenfu, the two of you escort the injured Shao Donglu. Deliberately create some distance between yourselves and us, acting as bait."

The two White Horse Valiant Riders responded without hesitation, their voices solemn, "Understood!"

Wei Shuyang, feeling a pang of reluctance, quietly said, "General Ning, isn't that a bit...?"

Ning Emei, whose voice was as soft and melodious as that young lady from Wuzhou in Zhizhang City, simply smiled, offering no further explanation. But Shuxiu could see the unwavering resolve in the general's eyes.

Shuxiu couldn't help but ask, "General Ning, are you sure that young man will fall into the trap?"

Ning Emei calmly replied, "Yuan Tingshan is a man who holds grudges and repays them. He is also good at opportunism; even with risk, he's willing to gamble. It's clear from this pursuit that he has always relied on his luck."

Shuxiu simply uttered an "Oh" and said nothing more. As long as the mission was accomplished, the deaths of a few Phoenix Camp light cavalrymen were of no consequence to her. However, deep down, her evaluation of this good-natured Beiliang general rose a few points.

Half an hour later.

Yuan Tingshan crouched on a tree branch, staring at the three light cavalrymen who had separated from the formation. His bleeding arm was already bandaged, and the short halberd was clamped between his teeth.

To kill or not to kill? Yuan Tingshan hesitated. He could kill swiftly with a sharp blade, or torment slowly with a dull one. Even with his tough mindset, he felt like cursing. What was supposed to be an extremely easy task had turned into such a miserable situation, enough to make a clay Buddha angry. Yuan Tingshan believed that in terms of innate talent and constitution, he was no less capable than those so-called first-class aristocratic scions. Among the young masters of Xuanyuan on Kunniu Ridge, two had descended into the martial world to gain reputations as heroes. One nearly had his tendons severed by Yuan, and the other, who possessed some real skill, fought him to a stalemate. However, Yuan Tingshan only lost in terms of technique; if it came to a fight to the death, he was confident he could cripple that elegant aristocratic young master within a hundred moves.

A cold sneer curled on Yuan Tingshan's lips. "Reincarnation is so important," he thought. "Born into a good family, top-tier secret manuals are readily available, with masters within the family to guide them. They're all so stable and secure. Peers from aristocratic families, with a little achievement, act as if they're transcendent. And if they can't win, they just cry to their parents. It's hard for them to even experience loss." Song Keli was undoubtedly the cream of the crop among them, with all the advantages. Yuan Tingshan looked down at his own humble, unpretentious blade, just like himself. "What do I rely on?" he muttered. "Only on this damn knife to carve out a future!"

Detestable. Detestable enough to kill. Kill them!

"I refuse to believe my life will end here. To hell with 'when a man dies, he faces the sky'! As long as I haven't lived enough, not even the King of Hell can take my life." Yuan Tingshan bit down on the short halberd, about to raise his knife and leap from the branch. His body instantly stiffened, taut as a bowstring drawn to its fullest. Someone chuckled above him. In that critical moment, Yuan Tingshan was ready to fight to the death. The person softly said, "Don't you regret it now."

Yuan Tingshan indeed remained perfectly still, even allowing his vital energy to flow in reverse. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, as he was already internally injured, but his mind was exceptionally clear, never before so lucid.

"No one's paying for your life, so I'm too lazy to kill you. I just find it amusing watching you run around, and I don't want you to die so soon."

Yuan Tingshan gritted his teeth and asked, "Who are you?"

No reply. Yuan Tingshan risked looking up and saw a little girl crouching on a gently swaying branch, carrying a golden sunflower. Above and below the tree, they stared at each other, wide-eyed.

"Besides an old man who taught me to kill, I usually only talk to dead people or those about to die. If you say more than twenty words, you'll die even if you weren't already. Count how many words you've said." The girl's tone was very stiff, and at the end, the corners of her mouth curved upwards, indicating a semblance of a smile.

Yuan Tingshan's vital energy surged within him, causing not just his mouth to bleed, but also a horrifying, ghastly bleeding from all seven orifices. Yet, at that instant, his blade emitted a blue-purple glow, an inch or so long. That day, when he delved deep into Longhu Mountain with Xuanyuan Qingfeng, he saw a middle-aged Taoist fishing. Only Yuan Tingshan, carefree, had eaten all the vermillion wild fruits. At first, he paid no mind, but after descending the mountain and boarding a boat, a voice somehow echoed in his mind—the Taoist's voice, speaking only three words: "Dragon Spits Water." He looked around, but the Taoist was nowhere to be seen. Then, his internal energy began to churn. By the time he reached Huishan, he was coughing up blood all the way up the mountain. After reaching the Six-Fold Waterfall, he practically crawled to the 'Dragon Spits Water' within the Six-Fold Sister Waterfalls, enduring the torrent on his back. With his physique, he should have only been able to withstand it for half an incense stick's time at most before damaging his internal organs and meridians. Yet, he remained there for twelve hours, a mystery beyond words. His cultivation advanced by leaps and bounds. This was Yuan Tingshan's greatest reliance, the reason he dared to draw his knife against that white-horse riding, brocade-clad young master. Now, he only lacked a secret manual for knife techniques!

Yuan Tingshan swung his knife, severing half the branches of a towering tree. The little girl had, at some unknown point, crouched on a nearby tree, still carrying that distracting sunflower. She calmly said, "Heh, your cultivation has increased."

This time, Yuan Tingshan was truly running for his life.

Yanqi Pass's original name had long been forgotten. It became known as Yanqi Pass ("Goose's Cry Pass") simply because a frontier poet from the previous dynasty wrote, "Southern geese cry out northern sounds here." This pass was heavily guarded by Beiliang troops, holding a strategic position that effectively blocked the northern barbarians' path south. Dark clouds loomed over the city, and a storm brewed. Sand and stones rolled across the vast desert, yet in the distance, Beiliang soldiers could vaguely be seen continuing their drills in the sandstorm. The harsh conditions of Beiliang were as renowned as its iron cavalry. Further north, while mostly desert, there were also stretches of fertile land and water. The area around Yanqi Pass, however, was entirely barren and desolate.

Dressed in white, Chen Zhibao stood on the city wall. To his left stood Dian Xiongyu, whose abundant hair made him resemble a majestic lion from the Western Regions, and to his right was Wei Fucheng, who looked like an impoverished old scholar. Dian Xiongyu, commander of six thousand Iron Pagoda heavy cavalry, stood on the city wall, mouth agape, holding back for a long time before finally roaring, "General, now that Beiliang Dao has been established, it's only right for the Grand General to be the Jiedushi! If anyone dares to usurp that, old Dian here will split them open with an axe! But why should Li Gongde, the Prefect of Fengzhou, be the Jinglueshi? That old scoundrel claims to be second to none in making money, but to let him govern Beiliang? Pfft! I'll spit in his face! Old Dian is telling you now: if Li Gongde has the guts to be this Jinglueshi, we'll take our six thousand iron cavalry and slaughter him!"

Wei Fucheng, frail of constitution, coughed repeatedly as the sandstorm blew, raising his sleeve to cover his mouth. He mumbled, "Don't speak such nonsense. The Jinglueshi isn't a rare position; whoever holds it won't affect the overall situation. It's the Censor-in-Chief that concerns me. I wonder which fearless fellow the imperial court will send for that appointment."

Dian Xiongyu boisterously retorted, "Master Wei, you're just being fastidious! Why isn't the Jinglueshi 'a thing'? It's the second-highest official in Beiliang Dao, shouldn't our general be the one to take it?"

Wei Fucheng waved his sleeve, smiling helplessly. "You're all brawn and no brains! If the general were to become the Jinglueshi, that's when major trouble would arise. If the imperial court intended it, and the Grand General didn't refuse..." Master Wei stopped mid-sentence, narrowing his eyes as he gazed at the rolling dark clouds in the sky, letting out only a soft sigh.

Dian Xiongyu looked stunned. "What on earth do you mean? Master Wei, you know old Dian's head got kicked by a horse when he was a kid; it doesn't work right. Any time I try to think, my head hurts." This was absolutely true. Dian Xiongyu, a martial general of the third rank, had been incredibly strong since childhood. Once, he was pulling a horse backward through the street when the enraged animal turned and trampled him. Not only his body but also his head was severely stomped. It was a miracle he didn't die. However, everyone in Beiliang knew perfectly well that whether General Dian's brain had been trampled by a horse had nothing to do with its current state.

Wei Fucheng was speechless from the ruffian's antics. After carefully mulling over his words, he slowly said, "You wish for the general to go to Liangzhou City as Jinglueshi, dealing only with documents year-round and completely ignoring Beiliang military affairs?"

Dian Xiongyu was stunned. "This..."

Chen Zhibao, in white, remained oblivious, simply turning his head to look at a newly prominent young Beiliang general. His name was Che Ye. He hailed from Beimang and was born into the lowest slave class. He was skilled in horsemanship and combat techniques, originally a death warrior kept by a noble. After committing a heinous crime in Beimang, he fled south, single-handedly killing over twenty Beimang Wolf Soldiers with just one horse and one sword. These Wolf Fang soldiers were the second-tier warriors in Beimang, only surpassed by the Great Tiger Warriors, and roughly equivalent to Beiliang Iron Warriors. One must know how brutal the selection process for Iron Warriors was: each was given a huanglu short sword or a hard iron-core bow, twenty arrows, a Beiliang saber, and three days' rations. Formed into groups of five, they were then cast into Beimang territory. Only after each man had severed six enemy heads could they return. After that, there were further assessments for infantry and cavalry combat. There were only about nine hundred Beiliang Iron Warriors in total. After Che Ye defected to the Beiliang army, he joined the scouts and immediately became the "Flowing Hand" with the most beheadings. Last year, he followed Chen Zhibao, who personally led six hundred cavalry in a surprise attack on Beimang's Bai Ri City, where Che Ye shot a Beimang royal inspecting the border clear through with an arrow. When the young man and Chen Zhibao returned, they had a tail of no less than thirty thousand Beimang iron cavalry pursuing them! All told, Che Ye was only nineteen years old this year.

Che Ye, clad in silver armor, held his helmet, facing the sandstorm unmoving. Chen Zhibao gently gestured, signaling Che Ye to step forward two paces and stand beside him on the city wall. He smiled faintly and asked, "Do you think it will rain with this weather?"

Dian Xiongyu slapped his forehead. "The general really is something," he thought. "Instead of asking about such trivial matters, he should be telling old Dian what this Jinglueshi business is all about."

Wei Fucheng rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb, smiling but remaining silent.

Young Che Ye shook his head and replied, "No, General."

Chen Zhibao grunted in acknowledgment, then fell silent once more. Dian Xiongyu was not one to endure boredom and was about to descend the city wall to drill those "turtle sons" outside.

Suddenly, a crack appeared in the thick black clouds, and a ray of sunlight pierced through, shining upon Chen Zhibao in white and the scout Che Ye on the city wall. Because Che Ye wore silver armor, he instantly gleamed golden, like a divine warrior descended from heaven.

At this moment, five or six *li* outside the city, thunderous roars echoed from both ends of the Yinma River. Over a hundred iron chains were always strung across the Yinma River. At this moment, they were all pulled taut by soldiers on both banks, fifty men against fifty, engaged in a tug-of-war! Regardless of rank, from soldiers to captains, whether in winter's cold or summer's heat, everyone had to go shirtless. Those with delicate skin would find it cracking after one or two rounds in June or July. It was almost autumn now, so they were lucky. But a few more months from now would be the worst. According to Beiliang military regulations, what constitutes a loss in tug-of-war? It means being dragged into the river, chain and all, by the opposing side. In summer, it might be like taking a bath, but in the dead of winter, would falling into the river be comfortable? The Beiliang army had many small factions, and the Grand Commander never bothered with them. However, private armed brawls were strictly forbidden—that was an ironclad rule. If conflicts arose, then fine, either go to the training grounds for a fierce fight, or each side brings fifty men here for a tug-of-war.

When a hunchbacked old man, accompanied by Yuan Zuozong, the "White Bear," arrived at the Yinma River, all the shirtless men instantly boiled with excitement. "Mother, the Grand General has arrived!" The tug-of-war itself was never a friendly affair, but with the Grand General returning from the capital, who the hell would want to lose face now!

Xu Xiao, not wearing armor, walked with his hands behind his back to a group of fifty Beiliang soldiers. He smiled, said nothing, and simply watched the iron chains stretch across the river. Of the hundred iron chains, people gradually lost their grip and fell into the river. After a full stick of incense, only the iron chain near Xu Xiao remained stretched across the Yinma River! Xu Xiao narrowed his eyes, observing that more than half of the hundred men on both banks had hands covered in blood. Their roars were already hoarse.

On the left bank, someone shouted, "Zhao Tiezhu, did you not get enough milk as a kid, you bastard? Get up!"

On the right bank, a shout came: "As long as your hands aren't broken, every single one of you keep holding on! Whoever slacks off first, when we get back to camp, I'll make you stick your butt out!"

"Bastard! Do you really think you're a cowardly turtle? Pull harder! Didn't you boast you could draw a three-stone bow? Win against those turtle sons on the other side this time..."

"Huang Qiong, you're the damn turtle son!"

No one had expected that the iron chain would be snapped by the sheer force of the two groups pulling! All one hundred men lay on the ground, unable to move a single finger, their hands all covered in blood.

Xu Xiao smiled and said, "Good."

No one knew who shouted first, but all the soldiers who could still move strained their voices, roaring, "Long live the Grand General!"

"Long live!"

The hunchbacked old man did not stop them. If he didn't say anything, who would dare to gossip about it in the capital? Xu Xiao turned to look at the city wall, muttering to himself, "Why are they standing so high up?"