Volume One: The Wild Boy Chapter Forty-Five: The Battle of Ru Province

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Xie Daoyun cleared his throat and began to read the terms aloud in a rather mechanical manner. After all, during their advance through Central North, those who wished to surrender had long since done so; those who remained were the ones who would rather die than yield. Still, negotiations were possible—if the terms were suitable, “defecting to virtue” was always an option, an unspoken rule that had endured for millennia in the Divine Land of Wenyuan.

“According to the rules of my Lin clan, those who surrender shall not be killed.”
“That’s all?” Gan Yulin found it hard to believe.
“That’s all,” Xie Daoyun replied. “Letting you live should suffice—what more could you possibly want?” He yawned, clearly bored by these formalities.

Ying Mao, standing at the head of the opposing force, was so infuriated by Xie Daoyun’s arrogance that he laughed out loud in exasperation. He could not be bothered to argue further and slowly drew his long sword. At once, the air rang with the steely sound of blades being unsheathed—battle was imminent.

...

Meanwhile, Lin Changtian was still searching for Chen Yixiao and Wei Mou. It had been a long time since he had lost his composure so thoroughly; if his carelessness had caused harm to those two youngsters, he would spend the rest of his days in regret.

He fought his way from the small courtyard to the heart of the city, saving many civilians along the way, but not one had seen any trace of Chen Yixiao or Wei Mou. Lin Changtian’s anxiety grew with every step, his blade moving with the swiftness and heat of a raging fire. None among the demon army could withstand even a single exchange with him.

Blinding blood and shattered fragments of mechs flew through the air as Lin Changtian, eyes reddened with fury, seemed on the brink of losing himself to madness. Suddenly, a gentle song rose above the chaos, soothing the wounds of war. Lin Changtian’s eyes regained their clarity, and he raced desperately toward the source of the melody.

In an alleyway, Wei Mou’s face was deathly pale from fright, while Chen Yixiao sang the little song Lin Changtian had taught her, her demeanor calm and unruffled. Her voice, as if imbued with enchantment, soothed even the soldiers who had surrounded them. Even Wei Mou, noble-born as he was, had never witnessed anything so extraordinary.

Lin Changtian slipped into the alley in a flash, blade drawn, but froze at the sight before him—utterly stunned.

This power was all too familiar. It was a scene Lin Changtian could never forget.

Was this not just like Lin Yuheng, one of the Seven Stars of the North Dipper, in years past?

A demon’s presence in the mortal world, a tyrant over the virtuous.

With murderous intent, Lin Changtian approached Chen Yixiao, his chilling gaze piercing straight to her heart. But before he could speak, Chen Yixiao called him “big brother” in her sweet voice. Though Lin Changtian was covered in blood, his eyes cold and his blade still unsheathed, she had no fear that he would ever harm her.

Sure enough, the “cool guy” persona faded and was replaced by the hapless husky—it was Lin Changtian through and through. Tears welled in his eyes as he embraced the two of them, sobbing incoherently, making him seem both pitiable and ridiculous.

Wei Mou, stubborn as ever, fought back tears, gripping Lin Changtian’s hands tightly and putting on a brave face as he tried to comfort both Lin Changtian and Chen Yixiao.

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Compared to the other two, Chen Yixiao’s composure was remarkable. She patted Lin Changtian’s back, ruffled Wei Mou’s hair, and took both of them by the hand, leading them out.

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The border defenders of Ru Zhou clashed fiercely with the Lin clan’s troops. Both sides unleashed their most formidable powers. The boundary masters of the Ten Clans and Seven Elders formed sword formations to slaughter their enemies, putting the Lin clan on the defensive. Those who normally lived as carefree wanderers now displayed their unique abilities, cutting the Lin forces to pieces.

After all, the most profound and intricate orthodox inheritances of the boundary masters had been nurtured in the Divine Land of Wenyuan.

To the Lin clan, these combat methods were entirely novel. Yet this so-called demon legion was among Lin’s most elite forces. After a brief period of chaos, they quickly regained their composure; the mech soldiers, using highly coordinated teamwork, blunted the sword formations’ edge, while the Lin clan’s Awakened, empowered by genetic modifications, fought the boundary masters head-on. The Lin experts clad in boundary armor merely hovered in the sky with Xie Daoyun, watching the carnage below as if waiting for their final trump card to appear.

Yet throughout the entire battle, not a single member of the Wei clan was seen.

Xie Daoyun exhaled deeply, a vague irritation gnawing at him. Too many things had gone awry today. The urgings of the Lin clan elders and the tension of the battlefield were nothing compared to the real source of his discontent—a trivial “small matter.”

“Have you heard? Our commander’s wife, Lin Ningzhi, is out cavorting with someone else again—she didn’t come home last night!” Of course, the two soldiers gossiping were later beaten to death outside the camp gates.

To be honest, Xie Daoyun never considered himself a hero who married into the Lin clan to revive his family’s fortunes. Even that story only began circulating after he accomplished great feats with a surprise attack on the Zhou clan. In the past, who had ever feared the name “Xie Daoyun”?

Perhaps only the elders who watched him grow up truly understood what an extraordinary man he was. Yet, even after gaining fame in a single battle and being named “Marquis of Huaiyin of the Lin House,” he was still abjectly humble before Lin Ningzhi.

Once, Xie Daoyun had read a phrase from several centuries ago and found it amusing: “A simpering dog, seeking solace where he can.” The irony was that, hundreds of years later, it still fit him perfectly.

But there was no time for Xie Daoyun to lose himself in idle thoughts. Ying Mao’s sword had been drawn.

A dragon’s roar, as if from the abyss itself. Once, a sword was raised to save the frontier, leaving behind a tiger-striped golden quiver. The sword’s bold aura soared three thousand feet into the sky, forcing the boundary masters behind Xie Daoyun to unleash their powers to the fullest, struggling desperately in the vortex of sword intent.

Xie Daoyun’s long spear faced the storm unflinching; he charged alone into the fray, shattering earth and mountain, turning the battlefield of the seven clans upside down.

In a flash, spear and sword clashed. But in the end, Ying Mao was old; too many worries weighed on his heart. Soon, he began to falter. Gan Yulin, dressed in white, let out a furious shout and lashed out with the whip hidden in his sleeve, forcefully breaking Xie Daoyun’s spear charge.

Xie Daoyun looked at Gan Yulin with interest. The energy on that whip was vicious and ruthless, a stark contrast to Gan Yulin’s upright demeanor. Ying Mao was astonished. As Wei Shaoqing had guessed, he had often used the events of that day as an excuse to extort favors from Gan Yulin, to the point where even his own clansmen could no longer stand his greed. Yet Gan Yulin, contrary to expectations, gave whatever was asked, always yielding in public, displaying utmost humility.

At first, Ying Mao thought it was all an act, but what sort of hypocrite would dare step forward and block a spear thrust like that?

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Gan Yulin seemed to read his thoughts and shook his head helplessly, turning away as he spoke: “Ah, you old men are always scheming and plotting, but have you forgotten the truth that man proposes, heaven disposes? Not everything can be calculated by your rules. Really, what a bunch of pig-headed teammates.”

Before his words had even faded, Gan Yulin summoned all his strength and charged directly at Xie Daoyun. Though his attacks were straightforward, they were laced with a vicious energy, the contradiction between yin and yang manifesting in a single man, yet seeming perfectly natural. This made Xie Daoyun decide to spare his life.

Spear and whip tangled together. Xie Daoyun frowned—energy surged and shifted along the whip, neutralizing layer after layer of force from his spearhead, as if sinking into a bottomless sea.

He had misjudged; this young man was no weakling to be toyed with. With a twist of his spear, Xie Daoyun disengaged and made to retreat, as though realizing he was outmatched.

Seeing Xie Daoyun “flee,” Gan Yulin hurried after him, his long whip nearly striking the enemy’s back. At that moment, Xie Daoyun suddenly halted midair and took the blow head-on. Before Gan Yulin could relax, Xie Daoyun’s smile broadened. Then, as Ying Mao’s anxious shout rang out, Gan Yulin looked down to see that Xie Daoyun’s spear had already pierced his abdomen, pinning the Lin clan’s Qilin Child to the cold earth.

Ying Mao’s eyes turned blood-red as he and the remaining ten elders fought desperately to rescue Gan Yulin, whose breath still lingered. Xie Daoyun did not stop them; after all, Gan Yulin was perhaps the only opponent among the Ru Zhou elite worthy of respect. If he had been slain so easily, the war would have lost much of its meaning.

As dusk fell, Xie Daoyun simply withdrew his troops, making no effort to pursue the enemy.

It was not for the sake of an empty reputation; the battle had dragged on too long, and the backlash from overusing the mechs was beginning to show. Many of Lin’s soldiers were weary in spirit; some even seemed to have suffered grave harm to their souls and collapsed unconscious. If forced to keep fighting, even if they took all of Ru Zhou, this painstakingly forged force would be crippled for a long time, and Xie Daoyun’s dream of making them the first Lin clan army to storm the Northern Emperor’s Palace would come to nothing.

...

In the small courtyard, Liu Qingshan scolded Lin Changtian while comforting Chen Yixiao. Watching from the side, Wei Mou felt a twinge of jealousy—he’d known Elder Liu far longer, yet had never received such kindness. But then, little Yixiao was certainly lovable enough to deserve it, and he was happy to treat her as his own little sister. So, he joined Liu Qingshan in berating Lin Changtian.

Lin Changtian, fully aware of his mistake, was annoyed to see Wei Mou putting on airs, but could only lower his head and listen obediently to the scolding.

This amused Chen Yixiao so much that she tugged at Liu Qingshan’s sleeve and spoke up for Lin Changtian. “Grandpa Liu, please don’t be angry. It was my idea to go out—it had nothing to do with Brother Changtian.”

Hearing this, Liu Qingshan’s anger finally subsided. He smiled at Chen Yixiao, patting her little head. “Our Yixiao is always so considerate.” Then, turning fierce again, he glared at Lin Changtian. “If you’re ever this careless again, I’ll make you taste the punishment that even Yu Baili couldn’t endure in his day!”

Lin Changtian nodded hastily, meek as could be.