Chapter 661: Young Hero and Demon Lord

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Dian Xiongyang gazed at the picturesque Miao village. Terraced fields stretched up the mountainside, and a green river flowed like a silk ribbon at the foot of the hills, where stilt houses clustered together. It was hard to imagine such charm in what Central Plains scholars called a "barbaric, miasmic land." However, Dian Xiongyang was a coarse man, and having traveled so far south, he wasn't there for sightseeing. He had seen dozens of such isolated villages, many of which had been reduced to ruins by the blades and crossbows of his subordinate officers. Dian Xiongyang turned to glance at the silent troops behind him, then grinned, revealing a mouthful of unsightly yellow teeth. He averted his gaze, then cautiously studied the general standing beside him. In this era, countless meritorious military commanders existed, with the Beiliang army alone having them in abundance. Yet, in old Dian's eyes, only two truly deserved the title of "General": Grand General Xu Xiao, who had passed away, and the one still alive beside him. As for Gu Jiantang, Lu Shengxiang, and the like, they were merely passable, and old men like Yan Zhenchun and Yang Shenxing were even less significant. Dian Xiongyang collected his thoughts and gave no orders. Since their departure from Shu, the sixty-odd men had developed an adequate tacit understanding, knowing precisely what to do. Besides, not only were Fu Tao, Wang Jiangwu, and Huyan Naonao genuinely high-ranking martial generals, but none of the others were ordinary soldiers either. Any one of them, picked at random, would be an influential figure in the bureaucracy of the Western Shu Dao. Before leaving Shu, there had been a few fearless and notoriously unruly individuals among them, yet they had all been tamed into submission, becoming more docile and obedient than young brides. Their journey, from initial mutual suspicion and disdain to ultimately everyone leading from the front, shedding blood, and bearing wounds, seeing each other as comrades for whom they'd gladly die, seemed incredible. But Dian Xiongyang wasn't surprised at all. This was the invincible power of the man he followed. That man's military strategy was always simple: commanding generals and commanding soldiers. He hadn't been in Shu long, nor had he sought to win hearts or forge relationships. Instead, he took this group of vigorous young officers, whom he privately called "not yet terminally ill," into the war-torn former Nanzhao territory to harvest heads and teach them how to kill with their own hands. Only then did he instruct them to ponder, in their free time, how to lead troops to kill in the future. Dian Xiongyang had followed him for years and understood the principles; he could even recite thousands of characters from the military treatises the General had personally written. Yet, like all of the General's direct subordinates, he knew what to do but simply couldn't do it well. Sometimes, when Dian Xiongyang drank and chatted with Scholar Wei, the latter would speak in enigmatic, profound terms. Over time, Dian Xiongyang stopped bothering to think about it. He simply clung to one belief: follow the General into battle, and their side would always win without a doubt, the only difference being the magnitude of the victory. Perhaps sensing Dian Xiongyang's prolonged gaze, the General turned and met his inquiring look. Dian Xiongyang, now the commander of the Western Shu Dao infantry and concurrent General of Bazhou, chuckled and asked, "General, that young man named Su, he is, after all, the son of the former Emperor of Western Shu. He must have expert bodyguards. Why don't you let me have a go and enjoy myself?"

The General merely smiled, neither agreeing nor refusing. Dian Xiongyang immediately felt a blush of embarrassment, knowing his wish was certainly dashed. He also lacked the courage to press the matter; the General was always like this, his rules absolute, unbreakable even by the Heavenly King himself. During this training campaign, the General had "commanded soldiers" for those who had temporarily transformed into common foot soldiers. Regardless of the battle's ebb and flow, the General himself had never once personally intervened. But then again, if the General were inclined to act, what would be left for those men to do? Thinking of this, Dian Xiongyang felt a surge of indignation. "You, Xu, never mind how much exaggeration there is in your 'world's greatest' title, snatched from Wang Xianzhi," he mused, "could you truly withstand the iron cavalry of Northern Mang if they marched south?" Dian Xiongyang seemed to have forgotten that if someone had told him the princeling, that mere "embroidered pillow," could become a martial arts master, he would have sooner believed himself capable of bearing children. When the princeling went to Wudang Mountain for "cultivation," he, Scholar Wei Fucheng, and a host of Beiliang generals had all joked that the boy had likely fallen for a beautiful Taoist nun on the mountain, and practicing the blade was nothing more than a poorly conceived pretense.

General Anyi Fu Tao, General Zhaolie Wang Jiangwu, and Shuzhou Deputy General Huyan Naonao, whose nicknames were "Prince Consort," "Foolish Young Master," and "Tiger Eater" respectively, had vastly different temperaments. Yet, without exception, all were utterly convinced by the silent man. Wang Jiangwu, from a prominent noble family, could freely discuss ancient texts, bronzes, and philology with him in his leisure. Huyan Naonao, a martial arts fanatic, could converse with him about martial arts—neither of these was surprising. But Fu Tao, known for his reclusive nature, also enjoyed deep conversations with the General. Dian Xiongyang had grown accustomed to it. The General seemed never to have suffered a defeat in his life. On the battlefield, his military achievements were well known throughout the Liyang court and beyond. In matters of romance, hadn't he, upon arriving in Western Shu, instantly captivated Xie Xie, the beauty from the Rouge Rankings? As for officialdom, even the current Emperor held the General in high esteem, appointing him Minister of War immediately upon his arrival in the capital, while the two Lus of the Ministry of War, Lu Baijie and Lu Shengxiang, were merely Vice-Ministers. How could they compare to his General?

Inside the Miao village nestled against the mountain and by the water, when they saw the audacious intrusion of this army, almost all the Miao people immediately knew they were doomed.

These “unassimilated Miao,” who were supposed to be isolated from the world, surprisingly produced knives, swords, and armor from an unknown source. Most of these armed individuals were elderly, having experienced the Spring and Autumn War, which had devastated the Central Plains, in their youth. Many younger children and young women were kept in the dark, unaware why their fathers and husbands suddenly possessed those gleaming weapons. Some white-haired elderly Miao even donned rusty armor. Had it not been for this sudden upheaval, the younger generation would likely never have known the secret hidden within the village.

The village, after all, was not a fortified military town accustomed to the smoke of war and the sound of horses' hooves. It was utterly defenseless against the sudden appearance of these Western Shu elites. Before they even reached the foot of the village, some Miao people returning from work were instantly shot down by crossbows. The crossbow bolts either pierced through their chests or skulls, killing them almost instantly. At best, they could only turn their backs, not even having time to take a step. The most terrifying aspect was that these armored soldiers spoke no words before or after killing. After shooting a Miao person, the archer would simply and silently retrieve the bolt from the corpse and return it to the quiver. In the midst of this, a young Miao couple, appearing to be lovers, were affectionately whispering by the river. The young man was a nimble fighter in the village, having once wrestled a tiger bare-handed. But when confronted by one of the tall armored soldiers raising a crossbow, even with his keen senses, he only managed to throw the Miao woman down to dodge the bolt. Yet, that single bolt seemed to have anticipated their movement, piercing both their foreheads in one shot, killing them in a lovers' embrace.

These ruthless devils, who killed without batting an eye, began their slow, deliberate ascent into the village.

What chilled the Miao people even more was the soldiers' method of killing, which possessed an unimaginable coldness. The armored soldiers were like seasoned farmers expertly harvesting rice, knowing how to cut the stalks with the least effort, using not a single ounce more or less strength than needed. When facing the first wave of Miao people, who descended the mountain in what seemed like a numerically superior and aggressive charge, the soldiers first used light crossbows for targeted kills. If engaged in close combat, they drew their blades and struck with clean, lethal blows, utterly devoid of any theatrics. If someone miraculously evaded the first strike and the two sides brushed past each other, the armed soldier would not break formation to engage in a prolonged struggle but would confidently leave it to a soldier beside or behind him to deliver the second strike. By the time over forty Miao people lay dead, not a single one had escaped the second blow! This scene, far from being gory and even remarkably "clean," shattered the resolve of the second wave of over sixty Miao people, who halted at the edge of the village's lusheng ground. Behind them were another thirty or so physically weaker Miao. After these two groups of Miao men who went out to face the enemy, only the old, young, and women were left, destined to await their fate helplessly.

The armored soldiers, armed with crossbows and swords, slowly entered the pebble-paved lusheng ground. The two groups of Miao people were already huddled together. One white-haired Miao elder, carrying an iron spear, stepped forward a few paces. The old man might have traveled through the Central Plains in his youth and knew some official language. But as he opened his mouth to speak, a crossbow bolt pierced directly into his mouth, the immense force of the projectile knocking his entire body backward. After the old man fell with the crossbow bolt impaled in his mouth, the tip of the well-crafted crossbow struck the ground, rising slightly like a rice seedling being pulled from a paddy field, leaving the remaining Miao people pale with terror.

Not only were Dian Xiongyang and the three generals indifferent to this, but in fact, every Western Shu officer, including the crossbowman himself, considered this swift, no-nonsense killing to be perfectly natural. Before the General was ennobled and granted his fief, each of them had their own arrogance, pride, and style of leading troops. But under his gentle yet firm tutelage, they came to understand one thing: fighting under him, whether in battles with high or low chances of victory, ultimately boiled down to two words: killing. Killing was not like writing for a scholar, where beautiful and ornate phrasing was valued; it had to be concise and practical.

Conciseness, while ensuring practicality and effectiveness, was about conserving each soldier's energy, thereby gradually "nurturing" the entire army's combat strength to its utmost potential. In this way, the situation would remain rock-solid; battles that might have been lost could slowly be turned around, and battles that were already certain wins would be unassailable from the very start. During this southern expedition, the General offered no elaborate lectures, much less physical demonstrations. There were only a few concise words at the outset of their departure from Shu, yet they grew increasingly memorable: "I will make you understand what a general and an officer should and should not do. Afterward, you will make your respective subordinates understand what to do and what not to do in a war. Give me 200,000 Shu soldiers within five years, and I will grant all of you eternal fame."

Now, the proud Prince Consort Fu Tao believed him, the eloquent scholar-general Wang Jiangwu believed him, the martial arts-obsessed fierce general Huyan Naonao believed him, and all the accompanying officers believed him.

Because at this moment, the man looking up at a stilt house high above was him.

Where he looked, behind the railing of the Miao stilt house known as a "Beauty's Rest," there was clearly no one.

Yet, behind the doors and windows, a young man, dressed differently from the Miao, was intently staring through a window crack at the man who had "coincidentally" looked up.

The young man, barely past his coming-of-age ceremony, had sweat beading on his forehead and his lips trembled as he mumbled to himself. The heroic fortitude and noble composure of a knight remaining calm even if Mount Tai crumbled before him was simply too extravagant a hope for him. Ever since his journey from Northern Mang, through Beiliang and Western Shu, to Nanzhao, he often felt as if he were living in a different lifetime. Sometimes, waking in the early morning, half-asleep, he would still imagine himself lying on that hard, small bed in his "home" in Northern Mang. Even after confirming beyond doubt that he was indeed the Crown Prince of Western Shu, a "son of the Emperor" before whom many white-haired Shu elders would tremblingly kneel and weep upon meeting, he found it difficult to regard that so-called Shu kingdom as his own country or his home.

This unassuming young man's real name was Su Ying. His father was the Emperor of Shu, and his paternal uncle was the renowned Shu Sword Emperor who fiercely defended the nation's borders.

But he always felt that "Su Su" sounded more natural and relaxing, simply the name of a minor character wandering aimlessly in that small city in Northern Mang, indulging in daydreams he himself found amusing. So, after arriving in Nanzhao with her, besides reluctantly socializing with aging dignitaries who had been unapproachable a decade ago, he preferred taking her out for walks and fresh air. And she, being blind, never refused, carrying her guqin to wander the jianghu with him—the jianghu of his imagination.

He said he wanted to be a great hero his whole life. She agreed, then personally bought him the peerless sword a great hero should possess, helped him dress in attire that made him look like a young master from a noble family, and taught him how to open conversations and feign the demeanor of a master when performing acts of chivalry.

She played the role of the murderous demoness, and he played the hero who defeated the demoness.

The two meticulously performed four or five "shows" within Nanzhao territory. She, in succession, killed over two hundred individuals who deserved to die, while he made grand entrances under numerous watchful eyes, either gracefully appearing while reciting ancient poetry or standing handsomely beneath the moon on a tall building. The final result was always the same: the blind demoness carrying a guqin, who had terrified government officials, yamens, and esteemed martial arts figures alike, would flee in disarray and cling to life under the "hero's" fierce attacks, which observers found mysteriously profound. Afterward, he would always secretly meet and hide with her. He would tell her, who could not see the world, which well-known martial arts masters had been dumbfounded, and which beautiful young heroines had stared wide-eyed.

She would always smile serenely, saying nothing.

Su Su looked at the man, who seemed to have sensed his presence, and said with a trembling voice, "I know. Even if you're nearing the Heavenly Elephant realm, you won't be able to defeat him."

The blind qin player, who had once nearly taken Xu Fengnian's life in the rainy alley, merely hummed, her expression calm.

Su Su turned to her, smiling bitterly. "They're definitely after me. My life has been worth it, no regrets. It doesn't matter how they found me; talking about that is pointless now. You should leave."

Xue Songguan hummed again.

Then she moved, pushed open the door, and walked out.

At that moment, Su Su felt a pang of sorrow.

Husband and wife are like birds of the same forest; at the approach of calamity, they fly apart.

But she wasn't even his wife yet.

If only she were, how wonderful that would be.

Then, even if she left alone, he would have been willing.

Suddenly, Su Su abruptly awakened, rushing out of the room like a madman.

Then he saw her gracefully depart, landing in the middle of the lusheng ground, standing before the armored soldiers.

Su Su suddenly started to cry and laugh.

This young man, who had been timid as a mouse for twenty years in a foreign land, this clumsy young hero who had foolishly sprained his ankle during their recent play-acting, for the first time felt an immense surge of heroic spirit. He leaned over the railing and roared.

"Wife, wait for me!"

However, Xue Songguan did not let his heroic moment last for long. After pulling away the cotton cloth covering her guqin, she lightly plucked a string, and Su Su, behind the "Beauty's Rest" railing, immediately fainted.

Then, the blind woman turned her head and "looked back."

She only felt a touch of regret, as people say, "the music ends, and the people part."

She couldn't see, and he couldn't hear.

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