Chapter 205: Pressing the Horsehead

Sweeping the Land: Beacon Fires for the Lords

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As the tidal bore advanced a certain distance, literati, attended by beautiful maids providing brushes and ink, would compose poems. After writing, their friends would loudly recite the verses, earning thunderous applause before the poems, along with the Xuan paper, were tossed into the Guangling River. While this was called "impromptu composition," everyone knew these meticulously crafted poems had been prepared long in advance. Some aristocratic youths, lacking in literary talent, would rack their brains for a long time before the tide-watching event. More unscrupulous individuals would simply spend gold and silver to buy poems from humble scholars, with the price per character depending on the buyer's generosity and the quality of the seller's writing—ranging from a dozen taels to a basin full of gold.

The Beiliang Heir, who in his early years was the most famous "easy mark" in this trade, naturally understood the tricks of the trade upon hearing the continuous chanting accompanying the great tide. Scholars constantly composed eloquent and catchy verses, echoing the majestic military bearing of the navy on the Guangling River. This truly exuded the aura of a flourishing dynasty, effectively compelling the common people to submit to the authority of Prince Zhao Yi.

Xu Fengnian did not allow Chen Yu to press him further on that topic. Instead, he simply glanced up at Prince Zhao Yi of Guangling. His indistinct figure truly resembled a small mountain. This "fat pig" had defiled two queens from fallen Spring and Autumn kingdoms, and as for the countless princesses and concubines who became his captives, they were too numerous to count even with all fingers and toes. When Zhao Yi was ordered to guard Guangling, it was rumored that every few days, noble women who had been imperial kin just days prior would commit suicide rather than endure humiliation—some jumped into wells, some swallowed hairpins, others hanged themselves. His notoriety spread throughout the dynasty, on par with Beiliang's Chu Lushan.

However, to think Zhao Yi was merely a lecherous man who defiled noblewomen would be to truly underestimate this three-hundred-pound grand prince. The barren Beiliang, ruled by Xu Xiao, and the wild Southern Tang, ruled by Prince Yan Ci, both had fierce populations. Beiliang also faced the constant threat of hundreds of thousands of cavalry from Beimang. But honestly, among all former territories, Guangling—the old lands of the Western Chu and Eastern Yue dynasties—was the most difficult to appease and bring under control. The scholars of Western Chu were uniquely elegant, and famous literati and great Confucians were countless. If Prince Zhao Yi had lacked true ability, knowing only bloody suppression without winning hearts, the fertile Guangling, which accounted for five or six tenths of the empire's taxes, would have long been devastated. This would have been a disaster for the empire's financial operations. The current emperor's brothers, while not all strategic geniuses, were certainly not mediocre. The ability of the Liyang Dynasty to conquer the empire was due not only to fate but also to the human efforts of the Zhao clan.

Just as His Royal Highness had finished with Lu Qiantang and was about to leave the riverside, an untimely sound of hooves suddenly arose. Turning to look, Xu Fengnian frowned. Dozens of lightly armored cavalry, clearly distinguishable by their gear, were galloping towards them, forcefully carving a path through the throng like cleaving waves. Many commoners who could not evade in time were immediately knocked flying by the warhorses. The thirty-plus horsemen, skilled riders with sabers and crossbows, were quite conspicuous. Self-preservation is instinctual; the tide-watching crowd within a hundred paces of Xu Fengnian had already pushed and dodged, clearing a path wide enough for two horses abreast.

The leading rider, robust in build, held a black snake spear inverted. His face was sinister, and his eyes immediately fixated on Xu Fengnian, who stood by the shore. Suddenly, he spurred his horse with greater force, accelerating forward. At a critical moment, a young child, perhaps separated from his parents, somehow tumbled onto the path and sat crying loudly on the ground. The spear-wielding rider showed no intention of pulling his reins; instead, a sinister grin played on his lips, a sight that sent shivers down spines. On both sides of the horse path were Guangling aristocrats and commoners. No one dared to interfere. Firstly, everyone knew that the Prince of Guangling’s Peregrine Camp was responsible for land security. Secondly, even if they wanted to do something, they were truly powerless. Guangling had many literati, but none had bodies of copper or arms of iron to stop a galloping warhorse. Were they eager to be reincarnated?

How could a scholar's brush resist a warrior's spear head-on?

At this moment, a young man resembling a wandering knight, mixed in the crowd, roared, "No!" He placed his hands on the shoulders of two people in front of him and leaped high, attempting to stop the horse and save the child. This chivalrous martial artist had evidently come from elsewhere, underestimating the terrifying might of the general on horseback and the ruthlessness of the Prince of Guangling's armored soldiers. Before he could act, a spear thrust upward, piercing through his chest as if he had run straight onto the spearhead. Cold to the core, blood splattered on the spot. The pitiable wandering knight, who had only just begun his journey through the martial world, died instantly. With a pull of the iron spear, his body fell back into the crowd.

In the blink of an eye, the hooves, the size of bowls, were about to stomp mercilessly on the child. These powerfully galloping hooves could easily create two bloody craters on the child's body. Some could not bear to watch and felt a pang of sympathy; others stared with wide-eyed relish; still others were consumed by shock and fear. After killing the man and withdrawing his spear, the rider cast a fierce, defiant glare at the distant young nobleman, who exuded an aura of wealth. However, his pupils then contracted sharply, showing a hundred times more surprise than when he dealt with the reckless young martial artist. In everyone's view, the handsome young man, clad in fine inner robes and a white fur outer coat, moved with ethereal grace. His feet touched the ground as lightly as a dragonfly, and with a few rapid steps, he reached the wailing child. He bent down, grabbed the child by the collar, pulled him against his chest, then executed an incredibly graceful sudden stop, his slender body leaning slightly backward. Without pausing, he continued to move backward, facing the general high on his horse. The general felt a surge of frenzy and rage. This brat dared to display such chivalrous flair right before his eyes, under his very spear?

The general on horseback raised his iron spear again and, using the momentum of his horse, thrust it towards the young man's chest, roaring, "You brat, you're asking for death!"

Without seeing how the young man exerted force, his retreat speed suddenly increased to its peak, swift as a startling rainbow. He quickly created a long distance between himself and the warhorse, placing the frightened and bewildered child beside a blue-clad maid. To everyone's surprise, after rescuing the child and making such a display, this dashing young man did not seize the opportunity to retreat. Instead, he shook his shoulder, causing his fox fur coat to fly off, which was gently caught by the blue-clad maid with blue embroidered shoes. He then charged forward again.

The long spear came with formidable force. The young man, who had just displayed such fluid and pleasing rescue techniques, now expressionlessly gripped the spearhead. Without a word, he yanked it backward, which unexpectedly amplified the warhorse's thunderous forward momentum. The next moment, everyone's eyes widened, their hearts pounding. The young man, who looked far more like an elegant nobleman than a wandering knight, abruptly stopped, leaped slightly, pressed down on the warhorse's head, and pushed!

Countless onlookers simultaneously gasped. The high-quality warhorse, weighing at least two thousand catties, was stopped dead in its tracks, unable to move another inch forward. Its head smashed towards the ground, and its front hooves slammed onto the stone slabs, snapping with a loud crack. The horse's sturdy hindquarters twisted grotesquely. The general on its back, along with his spear, was thrown a great distance. Given his skill, he should not have been so disheveled, but the young man's methods were simply incredible; he had truly "capsized in a ditch." Just as the general was about to use his spear stuck in the ground to stand up, he suddenly felt a cold killing intent envelop him. He was about to abandon his general's dignity and resort to almost roguish tactics against his opponent when the seemingly delicate and gentle blue-clad maid lifted her foot and stomped his head into the ground, killing him even more miserably than the wandering knight. The superb horsemanship of the other riders was displayed to its fullest at this moment; they almost simultaneously reined in their horses, causing a cacophony of neighs that pierced the eardrums. All of this transpired in mere blinks of an eye, and the situation was completely reversed.

The handsome young man in brocade, his expression as calm as water, stood over the warhorse that had died shortly after its master. He lightly clapped his hands and looked at the remaining cavalry, whose emotions were a mix of anger and fear. He said nothing. Some young women, who had cautiously witnessed this scene through gaps in the human wall, had only recently been gazing wistfully at the imposing figure on the warships in the river. Now, their minds were entirely filled with the face of this young nobleman. After all, for these modest young ladies, that accomplished tide-walker on the Guangling River was too unattainable. His various miraculous deeds were mere hearsay, heard and then forgotten. At most, when they picked up sentimental novels like "First Snow," featuring talented scholars and beautiful women, they might empathize with the tragic female characters, shed a few sympathetic tears, and reflect on their own lives. They would never truly believe they could spend a night with such a brilliantly talented young man, nor that a lovesick gentleman would gently knock on their door during a beautiful evening. Thus, what they had witnessed firsthand now was far more unforgettable.

The young man seemed to lack the patience for a standoff. He took a step forward, and the cavalry, their fierce momentum diminished, instinctively retreated a step. Just as the light cavalry recovered and seethed with humiliation and anger, an exceptionally heavy sound of hooves resonated. The riders breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the true master had arrived, and quickly made way.

A pale golden-maned Ferghana horse slowly approached. Given its exceptional stamina, it shouldn't have struggled so much; it was simply that the rider's weight was astonishing. His appearance was as if cast from the same mold as Prince Zhao Yi of Guangling—not exactly ugly, but bloated. The horse's back bounced, and even his fine, intricate, almost overly elaborate clothing couldn't conceal the trembling of his fat. There were barely a hundred Ferghana horses in the dynasty; excluding the twenty or so in the imperial city, and half of the remainder distributed among high officials, imperial relatives, and distinguished military generals in the capital, it meant that outside the capital, anyone—even a dog—who was qualified to ride such a magnificent steed, which would ooze blood plasma after a long run, would find countless people willing to treat them as an ancestor. Behind the Ferghana horse was another invaluable steed, a blue roan, carrying a gaunt old man in gray robes whose eyes were like daggers. Beneath the two horses, a servant quickly tiptoed to whisper to his master once the horses stopped, pointing towards the Murong siblings. He completely disregarded the young man who dared to challenge the Peregrine Camp cavalry. Such was the servant's attitude, not to mention the fat man himself, who hadn't looked at the astonishing young man at all. He merely grinned, staring at several women, each more curvaceous and alluring than the last, his bell-like eyes wide, forgetting to wipe the drool from the corners of his mouth. What a waste of such expensive clothes, clearly products of the prestigious Su-made workshops.

Everyone sighed inwardly.

With the arrival of this infamous master, even immortals would find it hard to survive in Guangling. Immediately, their gaze towards the handsome young nobleman was replaced by a sneer. How wonderfully fickle human hearts could be.

The fat man finally remembered to haphazardly wipe away his drool. With a grand wave of his hand, he commanded, "Seize them!"

The servant's greatest skill in life was flattery and leveraging his master's power. Upon hearing his master issue what he perceived as a "royal decree," he immediately changed his humble demeanor, straightened his back, and quickly turned to the underperforming Peregrine Camp cavalry, cursing, "You useless lot! Didn't you hear our Young Master's order? Quickly, seize them!"

Guangling, which encompassed the entire former Western Chu Dynasty and a small part of Eastern Yue, was known for having the strongest scholarly spirit in the land. Although there had been instances of wealthy scions bullying men and women under the rule of the Prince of Guangling over the years, these were generally considered within reason, but such disgraceful acts were rarely so blatant. No one would be foolish enough to commit such deeds under the watchful eyes of countless noble families during the grand tide-watching ceremony. Among the thirty thousand students at the Imperial College in the capital, excluding those from Jiangnan Province, the largest number of scholars came from Guangling. Moreover, with Grand Preceptor Sun Xiji of Western Chu serving as Left Minister and overseeing the Department of the Secretariat, he had become the spiritual anchor for Guangling scholars. Generally, even the most arrogant rich youths would weigh the consequences before breaking the law and committing misdeeds. However, in Guangling, there was one exception: Zhao Biao, the eldest son of Zhao Yi. He was a classic example of a "tiger father, dog son," having inherited none of his princely father's cunning and depth, only Zhao Yi's lechery and gluttony. In terms of the sheer number of women he seized, humiliated, and violated, he truly surpassed his father. Last year, he set his sights on the daughter-in-law of the Linqing Prefect, pursuing her across two prefectures. Eventually, he led a band of ruthless henchmen who broke into her residence and stripped the young woman, who had only recently married into the family. The matter reached the Prince of Guangling, and as a result, the respectable Prefect of the Fourth Rank, whose official insignia on his chest bore an embroidered sparrow, was summarily beaten to death by Zhao Yi with a jade ruyi scepter. Immediately afterward, a principled censor who set out for the capital to lodge a complaint was intercepted and assassinated on the road. Could anyone not feel a chilling dread from the arrogance of Zhao Yi and his son, Zhao Biao?

Xu Fengnian smiled and asked, "Zhao Biao, are you trying to take my women?"

Prince Zhao Biao of Guangling let out a surprised "Oh?" as if amused. His corpulent body leaned slightly forward, and he finally noticed the outsider, asking a question very much in keeping with his character: "You know this prince? Am I very familiar with you?"

Xu Fengnian smiled faintly and replied, "Not very."

Zhao Biao rolled his eyes and said, "Then why are you talking nonsense? Don't worry, this prince isn't unreasonable. I'm in a good mood today. After I take your women, I'll send you a few maids from the princely manor that I've grown tired of."

Xu Fengnian found it both amusing and exasperating. How could this fat pig be so utterly different from Prince Zhao Xun of Jing'an? He weighed twice as much as Zhao Xun, but the contents of his brain were probably smaller than Zhao Xun's little finger. Xu Fengnian believed that if it weren't for Prince Zhao Yi's protectiveness, the three hundred pounds of flesh on Zhao Biao's body wouldn't be worth a few copper coins.

Zhao Biao pursed his lips and muttered to himself, "Heh, in my life, I only admire one person, and that's Xu Fengnian of Beiliang, Brother Xu!"

After this brief, heartfelt declaration, the young prince irritably declared, "Still not moving? This prince taking your women is giving you immense face, young man. If you're still so ignorant, I'll have you skinned and thrown into the Guangling River."