Chapter Forty-Seven: Three Days Postponed

At that moment, the soldiers of Dongling were filled with fury. Even the Xiyuan soldiers, who were forcing helpless Dongling civilians forward, felt a pang of shame and could not bear to look up. Most of them despised such actions, yet they had no choice but to obey orders.

“Zhongli Yu, have you made up your mind?” Yang Qi spoke impatiently.

“If you want me dead, at least let me settle my affairs first. Three days from now, I will trade my life for theirs,” Zhongli Yu replied in a deep voice. Even if he were to die, he could not allow Xiyuan to defeat Dongling. He had to make all necessary arrangements within these three days.

“Three days? Impossible. If you don’t die now, I’ll have them executed immediately,” Yang Qi retorted, refusing to grant any delay. He was no fool.

“In that case, let’s fight to the death today. Once I’ve sent you all to see the King of Hell, I’ll take my own life and beg forgiveness from these people on the road to the underworld,” Zhongli Yu said quietly. If Dongling could not be preserved, its people would know no peace; what meaning would his sacrifice hold if he could not save them?

“You... Fine, I agree. Three days from now, your life will redeem these tens of thousands. Don’t try anything clever, or I’ll send them to their deaths at once,” Yang Qi conceded. He reasoned that if he didn’t yield, a deadly battle would ensue with uncertain outcome. Better to accept the terms; in three days, Zhongli Yu could hardly change the situation. Once he died, morale would collapse, and victory would be easy.

“Withdraw,” Zhongli Yu ordered, waving his hand.

“Your Highness...” The soldiers protested, unable to accept abandoning the battle so easily.

“What is our duty?” Zhongli Yu asked in a grave tone.

“To defend the nation,” the soldiers answered in unison.

“Should we protect the people of Dongling?”

“Yes.”

“Then what more is there to say? Withdraw!” Zhongli Yu pressed.

“Yes, Your Highness,” the soldiers replied, resigned, and followed his command. Anxiety weighed heavy upon them, fearing Zhongli Yu would truly trade his life for those hostages.

That day, Zhongli Yu returned to the General’s Mansion in Ning City and locked himself in his study, not emerging even by dusk.

“Master, it’s time for supper,” Li Hun’s voice sounded outside the door.

“Bring it in,” Zhongli Yu responded softly.

“Master, will you really use your life to redeem those people in three days?” Li Hun was anxious, afraid Zhongli Yu would go through with it.

“Can you rescue them?” Zhongli Yu looked up.

“I...” Li Hun was momentarily speechless. He might defeat a handful of skilled opponents, but there were tens of thousands—how could he save them all, and even if he did, how would he spirit them away?

“There’s no other way now, is there?” Zhongli Yu said helplessly. If he could avoid death, he would; he had only just married his beloved, and happiness had scarcely begun.

“Master, whatever happens, you must not throw your life away,” Li Hun burst out, panic rising as he realized Zhongli Yu truly saw no alternative.

“Enough. Leave me. I must arrange everything in these next two days, and no one is to disturb me,” Zhongli Yu waved his hand, dismissing him.

“Master...”

“Go,” Zhongli Yu commanded, his voice deep. Li Hun had no choice but to withdraw, worry gnawing at his heart.

That day, news that Yang Qi had forced Prince Chun to trade his life for the people of Wang City reached the capital. All who heard it were filled with outrage and disbelief that the Xiyuan people would stoop to such shameless tactics, using innocent civilians to threaten Prince Chun.

When the King of Dongling received the news, he was livid. Xiyuan had gone too far. For years, he had avoided war for the sake of his people’s peace, yet now they had descended to such vile means, forcing his hand—were they seeking their own annihilation? If Yu truly sacrificed himself, how could he face the ancestral emperors and his forebears in the afterlife? The Chun Prince’s line was single; only this solitary heir remained—must the bloodline now be severed? Three days—just three days; what more could he do? In such circumstances, even a seasoned emperor felt helpless.

“Summon the Crown Prince, Lord Lan, and Lord Jin to the palace,” the King of Dongling ordered sternly.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the eunuch replied, hurrying to deliver the summons.

Within half an hour, the princes arrived in haste, their faces grave, having clearly learned of the events at Wang City.

“Your sons greet you, Father,” they spoke together.

“Rise. You must have heard the news from the frontier. Xiyuan is despicable, to resort to such shameless acts,” the King of Dongling spoke in anger. Never had his sons seen him so incensed.

“Father, what are your plans? If Prince Chun is in danger, shouldn’t we send reinforcements at once?” the Crown Prince asked.

“I’ve summoned you today to hear your opinions.”

“I am willing to go to the frontier,” Zhong Yi Jin and Zhong Yi Lan declared together.

“I am willing as well,” Crown Prince Zhong Yi Fei volunteered.

“In that case, Jin and Lan will go; the Crown Prince will stay and assist me.”

“Your sons obey,” all three replied.

“You must wonder why I put Yu in command of the royal elite troops,” the King of Dongling said, glancing at his sons.

“Yes, we do not understand,” they replied, exchanging glances.

“Now, the time has come to reveal certain secrets,” the King produced the imperial edict from the late emperor, identical to the one held by Zhongli Yu. The three princes were astonished as he recounted the century-old secret, just as Zhongli Yu had explained to Yan. They were stunned to learn the authority vested in the Chun Prince’s house, and that Zhongli Yu’s family had once been one with theirs.

“I tell you this so that when you reach the frontier, if there is even a glimmer of hope, you must protect Zhongli Yu, for he is your brother. The Chun Prince’s line stands alone; I cannot bear to face the ancestral emperors if it is lost.” The King of Dongling spoke with sorrow. Losing Yu would be a blow not only to the Zhong family, but to Dongling itself. The Chun Prince’s house had guarded the royal family for nearly a century, never seeking power for themselves. For this reason, he was determined to preserve the sole heir of Chun Prince’s house.

“We will do our utmost,” Zhong Yi Jin and Zhong Yi Lan replied, feeling the weight of responsibility. Only two days remained before Zhongli Yu’s exchange with Yang Qi; no matter how swiftly they traveled, they could not arrive at Wang City before then. By the time they reached it, it might be too late, and their father’s hopes would be dashed. Even if they made it in time, could they stand by and watch tens of thousands of Dongling civilians slaughtered by Xiyuan?

“Set out immediately. There is no time to lose,” the King waved them away. At this moment, his heart was torn. He hoped Zhongli Yu could save the people of Wang City, for they were his subjects and the royal family bore responsibility for their safety. If Zhongli Yu, out of self-preservation, abandoned them, royal dignity would be lost. Yet privately, he wished Zhongli Yu would not risk his life, preferring his survival to the lives of all Wang City’s people. The loss of the Chun Prince’s house would be catastrophic for Dongling; a talent like Zhongli Yu was a rarity. After decades as emperor, for the first time, he was deeply powerless.