Chapter 547: The Court's Army Has Arrived

“Liu Xing, Xueyue, and Iron Rock.”

“These three cities form a defensive triangle. They are easy to defend and difficult to attack.”

“Though it is only three cities, their strategic geographical and logistical positions have turned them into an ironclad fortress.”

“The leader of the Divine Martial Association is a capable man.” The Court’s Commander-in-Chief, Wu Rui, looked grave in his military attire.

His intelligence on the Divine Martial Association was fairly detailed. After all, the organization wasn’t united internally, so there were always cracks to exploit. Besides, the Court’s control over the local regions was by no means weak.

If the conflict between the Daoist Lineages hadn’t suddenly intensified just as a drought descended, a single one of these problems wouldn’t have led to such a crisis.

“Grand Marshal, I’ve seen the front lines. They’re just a rabble, not even as competent as the rebels up north.” A younger general seemed puzzled by Wu Rui’s caution.

Wu Rui’s gaze, however, drifted between the Geomancy Map and the sand table as he mulled over various strategies.

“‘Changyang, never underestimate your enemy,’ he chided. ‘Could an ordinary person rise from being a mere refugee to the master of three cities?'”

As for the intelligence reports about the Divine Martial Association’s severe internal strife—a state of crisis both within and without…

However, Wu Rui believed in looking at things from more than one angle, lest his perspective be too narrow.

‘Looked at another way, despite being plagued by crises both internal and external, their leader can still maintain tight control over the Divine Martial Association. Isn’t that even more frightening?’

In fact, what was called “internal strife” seemed to Wu Rui to be an exceptionally stable balance.

It was as if their leader had delegated authority and was simply sitting back to watch events unfold, unconcerned. It wasn’t that he lacked power; rather, he had invested his power into the system as fuel.

This meant that the authority of all the Divine Martial Association’s high-ranking members didn’t come from themselves, but was granted by their leader.

Even so, Wu Rui knew that the young general, Changyang, would remain unconvinced.

And he needed precisely that defiance.

“‘But there’s some truth to what you say,’ Wu Rui said. ‘Go before the city walls. Taunt the enemy, draw them out, and engage them. Let’s see what these Divine Martial Association rebels are really made of.'”

‘Since you’re so unconvinced, you can be the one to test them. A victory would be a huge morale booster.’

‘If he loses, it would confirm my own suspicions—proving that the Divine Martial Association’s internal crises are nothing but a facade.’

‘If he suffers a crushing defeat, or even dies on the battlefield, then I will have to re-evaluate the Divine Martial Association and request reinforcements from the Court.’

“‘I’ll grant you three thousand men for now. Go quickly and return swiftly,’ Wu Rui said, signing off on the troops and the Tiger Talisman.”

Three thousand men was a tenth of the entire force assigned to quell this rebellion. This was no small gesture.

A look of delight crossed Changyang’s face as he hastily accepted the order. ‘The credit for the first victory is as good as mine,’ he thought.

“Yes, Grand Marshal!” Changyang was ecstatic.

Just before he left, Wu Rui couldn’t resist reminding Changyang one more time, “Do not underestimate them!”

Changyang heard him, but the words went in one ear and out the other.

‘A disorganized rabble, a match for the great army of the Court? Impossible.’

He then strode out of the tent, head held high, to muster his troops and march.

Seeing him go, Wu Rui knew his words had fallen on deaf ears.

‘Our chances of victory just dropped by three-tenths… Sigh.’ Wu Rui had little faith in Changyang to begin with, and now he had even less.

But he couldn’t let such thoughts show, lest they affect morale.

“‘Elder General An,’ Wu Rui said after Changyang had mustered his men and departed, ‘take five hundred soldiers and hold the rear. If Changyang is defeated, lead your men forward to cover his retreat.'”

An old general rose, clasped his fist in salute, and accepted the Tiger Talisman. After a simple, “Yes, sir,” he said no more and walked straight out of the tent.

He, too, had seen Changyang’s confidence. But that was only confidence if he won. If he lost, it was just arrogance.

「Meanwhile」

Changyang had led his troops to the foot of Liu Xing City’s walls and ordered his men to start hurling insults.

Before long, the city gates swung open, and Feng Cai rode out, leading a company of soldiers.

The two sides clashed immediately, with Changyang himself leading the charge, cutting down enemies at the vanguard.

He cut a magnificent figure, hacking left and right with unmatched prowess.

“‘Just a rabble, as I thought,’ Changyang sneered, thrusting his spear directly at Feng Cai. ‘The Divine Martial Association? They’re a stain on the words ‘Divine Martial.””

But Feng Cai was prepared, parrying the attack with his own spear.

On the battlefield, sabers and spears were the most practical weapons. Swords were rarely seen, unless wielded by someone from the Confucian Lineage.

But the “swords” they used were, in essence, manifestations of scholarly energy, not real blades.

“‘Heh, a corrupt official who only knows how to bully the common folk,’ Feng Cai shot back with a cold laugh.”

The insult struck a nerve. Changyang’s composure shattered, and his attacks grew more frantic.

“‘A pack of vile traitors, and you dare speak so brazenly!’ Changyang, who prided himself on his integrity as an official, had never been insulted like this before.”

“‘When the conflict between the Daoist Lineages destroyed our homes, you were nowhere to be found. When the drought raged and our lives hung by a thread, you were absent.'”

“‘But now that we’ve found a path to survival, a way to fight for our lives, you finally show up.'”

“‘If that doesn’t make you a corrupt official, what does?’ Feng Cai continued his tirade.”

Changyang’s expression turned ugly. He knew the history of the Divine Martial Association, but since it had never concerned him personally, he couldn’t empathize.

But now, hearing it used by the enemy to attack and insult him, he couldn’t tolerate it.

Just as he opened his mouth to retort, he noticed a commotion from both flanks.

He turned his head and saw two more enemy contingents charging in, forming a pincer to encircle him.

“‘You! You’re so treacherous!’ It was only then that Changyang realized the truth: they had sallied forth with the sole purpose of swallowing his three-thousand-man force whole.”

The so-called rabble he had been cutting down were nothing but bait.

By the time he realized it, it was already too late.

The encirclement was complete. His three thousand soldiers were now trapped, facing a slow, grinding death.

“‘Dismount and surrender. It’s your only chance to live,’ Feng Cai said coldly, though his attacks never ceased.”

“‘In your dreams!’ How could Changyang ever surrender to a band of rebels?”

But he didn’t want to die here, either. Without hesitation, he yanked on his reins, intending to break through the encirclement with his personal guards.

However, the encirclement was too tight for him to break through. Furthermore, his general’s attire made him an obvious target, and he bore the brunt of the attacks.

“‘Changyang, I’m here to help you!’ a powerful voice called out.”

It was the old general Wu Rui had sent as a contingency.

Feng Cai, however, just shook his head. If the reinforcements had arrived a little earlier, before the encirclement was complete, they might have had a chance to rescue him.

But now? It was hopeless.

They had, of course, anticipated such a move. Another contingent of their troops moved to intercept, blocking the old general’s path.

The sight extinguished the spark of hope that had just ignited in Changyang, and his expression turned ghastly.

“‘I should have listened to the Grand Marshal…’ With those final words, Changyang was run through by Feng Cai’s spear and knocked from his horse.”

The moment he hit the ground, soldiers swarmed him, hacking him into a bloody pulp. He was dead beyond dead.

His head, however, was severed and hoisted high on the tip of Feng Cai’s spear. “Changyang is dead!” Feng Cai roared. “Surrender now!”

He didn’t actually know who Changyang was, but he’d heard the old general shout the name, so he put it to use.

At the sight, the morale of the Court’s soldiers completely shattered.

Seeing this, the old general’s eyes dimmed.

‘I came as fast as I could, yet I still couldn’t save him.’ This was undoubtedly a major blow to the Court’s army.

Losing the very first engagement would cause morale to plummet, to say nothing of the loss of three thousand men.

But matters had reached a point of no return. He had no other choice but to order a reluctant retreat.

He had harbored a fondness for Changyang. That youthful fire was exactly what a young man should possess; what was youth without a bit of spirit?

With a few years of tempering, he would surely have become a general no less capable than himself—a future pillar of the Court’s military.

But fate is fickle. He fell in battle before his star could rise, killed by the very “rabble” he so despised.

The irony was almost too much to bear.

“‘He’s getting away,’ Feng Cai noted, watching the old general retreat. ‘A true veteran. He doesn’t let his blood get to his head.’ He felt a tinge of regret.”

Hoisting the head on his spear was meant not only to terrorize the enemy soldiers but also to provoke their commander.

If he could have baited the old general into a reckless charge and devoured his five hundred men as well, the victory would have been that much sweeter.

Five hundred men might not seem like much, but the capture or death of an experienced general was a blow far greater than the loss of five hundred soldiers.

—————–

“‘Losing a tenth of their forces right at the start and getting slapped with a low-morale debuff… their odds of winning just got even worse.'”

“‘I have to admit, those people in the Divine Martial Association are devious. Their use of the ‘feigning weakness’ tactic was brilliant.’ Qi Suian, of course, had received the victory report immediately.”

Good news like this, after all, was always delivered to him first.

It’s the classic “report the good news, not the bad,” and who would hide such glad tidings?

“‘My fame has increased again.’ Qi Suian observed the ‘fame’ coalescing around him. It seemed to be on the verge of transitioning from a gaseous state to a liquid one.”

And the trend showed no signs of stopping.

As word of the victory spread, both the quantity and quality of his fame would continue to rise.

“‘If this keeps up, I might break through to the Fourth Realm before I’m even crowned king.'”

Qi Suian mused to himself. Being crowned king was a prerequisite, but only for this specific path to the Fourth Realm. ‘If my fame grows too great, the nature of the Fourth Realm itself might change.’

It was a real-time calculation, after all, not a fixed advancement path.

It could be influenced by external factors, causing the Fourth Realm’s name, its associated Divine Techniques, its very structure, to transform.

“‘After this war is won, that should be enough, right?’ Qi Suian didn’t dwell on it. He’d already committed to letting things run their course; there was no point in obsessing over the details of his Fourth Realm.”

‘It’ll probably lean more toward the aspect of ‘grand momentum,’ with the weight of ‘fame’ being somewhat reduced.’

‘I’m really tempted to interfere.’

Qi Suian’s fingers twitched with the urge.

“‘Just a little bit, then. Not too much.’ Qi Suian decided he wasn’t the type for ascetic self-restraint, especially when interfering would allow him to shape things more to his liking.”

Besides, his “survivor” avatar was just sitting idle. He might as well use it as a temporary computational node, dedicated to researching the Daoist Lineage.