Chapter Thirty-Eight: Opening the Gates to Face the Enemy

In the early hours of the next day, Yang Qi led an army of four hundred thousand to the gates of Wang City. The soldiers were spirited, as if they had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Amidst the ranks of Xiyuan, a young man in full battle armor sat steadily atop his horse. His features were refined and handsome, his thin lips pressed into a grave expression. This was none other than Yang Qi, the second prince of Xiyuan.

“Brothers, for the peace of our two nations, my elder brother came as envoy on behalf of Xiyuan, seeking peaceful negotiations and a treaty of friendship. Yet Dongling, disregarding the welfare of the people, incited war by sending assassins against my brother during his stay. Now his fate is uncertain, and as his loyal brother, my rage knows no bounds. This enmity must be avenged, or my heart will never rest,” Yang Qi declared in a deep voice, his words twisting truth and falsehood, cloaked in feigned righteousness. Yet his speech successfully stirred the anger of the Xiyuan soldiers.

“Shameless Dongling! Return our Crown Prince! Return our Crown Prince!” The Xiyuan soldiers, unaware of the real circumstances, shouted in unison. Yang Qi’s words had clearly taken effect. They believed him wholeheartedly and resolved to defeat Dongling in vengeance.

Hearing these insults, the Dongling soldiers were enraged. The Crown Prince of Xiyuan had indeed been attacked in Dongling, but there was no proof it was Dongling’s doing. To be so brazenly accused was intolerable.

“Xiyuan villains! Dream not of invading Dongling! We swear to defend our homeland!” someone shouted, leading the cry.

“We swear to defend our homeland! We swear to defend our homeland!” Dongling’s four hundred thousand soldiers echoed as one, their morale matching Xiyuan’s.

“My lord, give the order! Let us drive out the Xiyuan scoundrels!” someone urged impatiently.

“Give the order!”

“Give the order!” The soldiers, no longer willing to tolerate the invasion, were filled with hatred toward Xiyuan.

“Very well. Soldiers, obey my command. Today, we fight!” the Lord of the South cried, his voice amplified by inner force, carrying for miles so all could hear. Dongling’s troops grew even more determined.

“I’ve long heard the Lord of the South was Dongling’s war god decades ago. Is your blade still sharp? Has Dongling no younger warriors left, that we should fear an old man like you? Ha!” Yang Qi laughed, mocking the Lord of the South in an attempt to provoke him.

The Lord of the South was indeed furious. He was only thirty-five, yet had been called an old man. “To deal with you, this young whelp, I alone suffice—no need for others.” With that, he hurled his spear straight at Yang Qi. The spear flew like an arrow, even swifter and more powerful, aiming directly for Yang Qi. Yang Qi dodged quickly, and the spear struck the shoulder of a soldier behind him, who fell instantly.

“Attack!” the Lord of the South ordered in a low voice. Seeing his spear miss Yang Qi, he was unfazed, and went up to the city gate to observe the battle.

That day, Wang City’s gates were thrown open. The troops, following the Lord of the South’s strategy, marched out to meet the enemy. All the generals agreed that his plan was flawless, layered with cunning and craft. Yet the foe seemed to anticipate every move, countering each stratagem in turn. Dongling’s soldiers grew increasingly unsettled in battle, never realizing Yang Qi, Xiyuan’s second prince, was so formidable that he drove them back again and again.

“My lord, I think we shouldn’t linger today. It’s best to retreat,” said Liang Ruhai, who watched the battle with the Lord of the South. He was both shocked and anxious, the outcome beyond his expectations.

“They’ve seen through our tactics. We likely have no chance of victory now; withdraw the troops,” the Lord of the South replied gravely.

On receiving the order, the soldiers retreated swiftly into the city. Xiyuan did not pursue. Soon enough, all Dongling’s troops were back behind the walls. In this engagement, Dongling lost tens of thousands, while Xiyuan’s casualties were far fewer.

After this battle, none dared underestimate Yang Qi, the second prince of Xiyuan. It seemed the saying was true: heroes rise in youth.

On the first day of war, Dongling suffered defeat. Morale was shaken. This was also the Lord of the South’s first loss. The generals dared not speak, fearing to anger Dongling’s undefeated war god.

News of his defeat was sent by fast courier to the capital. The king of Dongling, upon hearing it, was astonished, hardly able to believe that Xiyuan’s second prince was so powerful. Would the Lord of the South be able to repel the enemy? Never before had he lost a battle, and now, in his first clash, he had been bested by a mere youth not yet twenty.

The news spread throughout Dongling, causing widespread panic. The defeat of the war god was a blow they could not accept. If even he could not repel the enemy, would their homeland survive? The people of Dongling were gripped by fear, an experience unknown for many years. None knew if, when Xiyuan’s iron hooves crossed into Dongling, there would be any hope left.

For several days, news of defeat continued to arrive from the border. The populace, officials included, were in turmoil. At last, the king of Dongling could no longer sit idly. Early one morning, he summoned Zhongli Yu to the palace.

Anxiety grew in Zhan Yan’s heart; it was clear this war was dire. Zhongli Yu’s brows were deeply furrowed. He hurried to the palace as soon as he received the summons, not daring to delay.

“Yu’er, you have come,” said the king of Dongling, who seemed to have aged years in an instant as Zhongli Yu entered the imperial study.

“Yes, royal uncle, I am here.” When alone, Zhongli Yu addressed him as royal uncle rather than emperor.

“It seems I must reveal my last card. Yu’er, I hope you will not disappoint the people of Dongling,” the king said, his mood heavy. If possible, he would rather not play this hidden card, but with the nation in peril, he had no choice. Thankfully, the founder emperor had left this contingency for his descendants.

“I will do everything in my power to protect Dongling,” Zhongli Yu replied solemnly.

“I know you will not let me down. You have always been the best. Here is the token for three hundred thousand elite troops. Take it. Prepare well these next few days; be ready to set out at any time,” said the king, handing him a white jade tiger—the secret token of the elite forces, unused for a century. Now it had to be brought forth, and the king’s heart was heavy beyond words.

“Yes, royal uncle.” Zhongli Yu took the token, feeling its weight as well as the burden in his heart. War meant casualties; the soldiers he had trained for years would now face death.

Returning to Pear Blossom Court, Zhongli Yu saw the garden’s pear blossoms had wilted, leaving only small fruit. He thought of his wife; it seemed this year he would not be able to pick pears with her. When he planted the trees years ago, he’d hoped one day they could harvest pears together in their own courtyard. The fragrance of the pear trees at Orchid Pavilion was still fresh in his memory. He had finally brought her home, no longer needing to steal glances, finally able to share the fruits of summer with her. He had not expected the war to come so swiftly, so suddenly.

He walked to the door, watching the woman sit quietly by candlelight, waiting for his return. The feeling was so beautiful. In a few days, he would have to leave. Perhaps it was only his imagination, but her silhouette seemed suddenly so lonely. His heart ached, and he gently stepped forward, wrapping her in his arms.