Volume One: The Wild Child Chapter 47: The Guard Formation

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Xie Daoyun was in fine spirits this morning.

It was said to be thanks to his wife, Lin Ningzhi, whose reply that morning was seven words longer than usual, with an extra punctuation mark besides. This pleased Xie Daoyun so much that he resolved to celebrate this “grand occasion” with a resounding victory in battle.

“How long will it take to secure control over Yu Zhou City afterward?” Xie Daoyun’s expression was as calm as ever, already pondering the reorganization of the postwar order.

His adjutant saluted and replied, “General Xie, should the fighting end today, give me three days and I guarantee the people of Yu Zhou will be docile; none would dare defy the Lin Celestial Army!”

Xie Daoyun shot him a sidelong glance, his tone tinged with helplessness: “Zhang Wenshu, how many will you kill in those three days? Planning to slaughter the entire city? Where did you learn such ruthless ways? It was one thing to be so reckless against the Zhou clan, but here in Wen Yuan Shenzhou, such methods are deeply taboo. Let’s finish this battle first and then find another way.”

Zhang Wenshu hurriedly clasped his fists in assent, his face alight with fervent admiration for Xie Daoyun. After all, the renowned “Wangchuan Legion” had been personally founded by Xie Daoyun, and its current prestige firmly overshadowed the other four great legions. In Wangchuan, you might not know the head of the Lin family, but none could be ignorant of Xie Daoyun’s name.

...

As the clash of arms echoed, the might of the Wangchuan Legion pressed inexorably toward the inner city, while countless Yu Zhou domainers scaled the ramparts, unsheathing blades and swords, charging fearlessly and recklessly at Xie Daoyun’s central command.

This made Xie Daoyun frown. In large-scale engagements, teamwork is the key to victory, yet the Yu Zhou domainers had abandoned their previous formations, hurling themselves at him like scattered rabble, moths drawn to a fatal flame.

Soon, Wangchuan’s forces had pushed through the inner city, seeming to press the whole of Yu Zhou beneath their weight, suffocating it.

Hidden within the city, Lin Changtian cursed under his breath. Who could have imagined the Yu Zhou domainers would act as if possessed, each one bent on suicidal charges?

The weather cleared, sunlight spilling over the city. The outcome seemed certain.

When the last Yu Zhou domainer atop the walls saw the Lin army sweep into the inner city, he struggled to crawl to the corpses of his fallen comrades, collapsing beside them, closing his eyes in unwilling resignation and loneliness.

To be honest, he was not of the Seven Clans and had no real obligation to lay down his life. But he had grown up in Yu Zhou, twenty-eight years of his life.

Xie Daoyun was drenched in blood—none of it his own. The Wangchuan Legion’s formation had been battered and broken by the suicidal charges of the Yu Zhou domainers; even Xie Daoyun had to admit that the madness of these “ants” had left his ranks in disarray.

But these things were of little consequence; the battle was nearly over, and today’s victory had come almost too easily.

Yet the triumphant smiles of the Wangchuan soldiers soon froze on their faces, turning to fear, their mechs trembling alongside their bodies.

As if a dragon had met the hero destined to slay it.

Lin Changtian, witnessing the scene within the inner city, was just as dumbfounded as the Wangchuan soldiers, rooted to the spot, unsure what to do.

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This battle would certainly be recorded in the annals of the domainers, remembered for generations to come.

The Lin clan’s forces, relying on their advanced technology, launched a textbook-perfect surprise assault, so swift it nearly threw all of Wen Yuan Shenzhou into chaos. The Yu Zhou domainers, however, fought in a style reminiscent of a thousand years past, their gathered energy soaring skyward, altering the very face of the world.

At the heart of this formation stood Wei Shaoqing, unmoving and majestic, his inner radiance concealed, golden light shining in his eyes. “Greed” devoured the surging energy behind him, his long robe billowing within the sea of power—a figure in white, vast enough to blot out the sun.

Legends spoke of ancient prodigies who cultivated through countless eons to attain divine power. Their energy seas did not reside within their bodies, but encompassed heaven and earth, nurturing all living things. Within them shone a sacred light: this was Chitian.

Xie Daoyun’s hands trembled, for the old man’s weapon was also a long spear.

The spear—king of all weapons. When raised, all the world must follow.

So, when the old man raised his spear, should Xie Daoyun’s own spear yield or resist?

He recalled the seven extra words from Lin Ningzhi’s morning letter, and calmed himself, leveling his spear at Wei Shaoqing’s point, undaunted.

Wei Shaoqing was amused. He glanced at Xie Daoyun, and that single look left him chilled to the bone, his limbs weak, all his freshly summoned fighting spirit instantly dissipated.

The look he had given Ying Mao that day had been mocking; but the old man’s gaze upon him now was pure contempt.

“Retreat!” Xie Daoyun roared with all his might. In truth, he needn’t have said it—Wangchuan’s soldiers were already scrambling to escape.

For the Chitian-level elder had begun his slaughter.

In the span of a few breaths, the boundless energy sea devoured untold lives. Any Wangchuan soldier caught within its reach was pulverized to dust, their mechs crushed along with them, without even time to scream.

Xie Daoyun fled desperately toward the city outskirts, only then realizing how fierce those “ants” atop the inner walls had been, sacrificing their lives to stall his advance, pinning all hope on that old man.

“How could I have been so foolish, so complacent and careless?” Regret twisted Xie Daoyun’s face as he looked at the scant few personal guards left beside him, pounding his chest in sorrow, tears streaming down his cheeks.

He failed to notice that among his remaining guards was Lin Changtian, blinking rapidly and squeezing out a few tears of his own, as if he too was “overcome with grief.”

“General, you must pull yourself together—the whole army is counting on you!” Lin Changtian edged closer, pretending to console Xie Daoyun, his eyes reddened as though with deep sorrow.

In the depths of Xie Daoyun’s despair, a flicker of stubbornness returned. He turned to scrutinize Lin Changtian, perplexed. “Who are you? I don’t recall seeing you among my guards.”

Lin Changtian blinked, putting on an honest face. “To tell the truth, General, I’m just a nobody who happened to run faster than the rest. By the way, is your domain weapon still usable? We should hurry along, lest we get caught.”

Xie Daoyun sighed. “It’s no use—the old man’s energy was too ferocious. To escape with my life is fortune enough.”

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“Oh,” Lin Changtian replied, then pressed his blade to Xie Daoyun’s throat, smiling. “Oh, so why are you still chattering with me? Don’t move around, my blade moves quickly.”

...

Within Yu Zhou City, the domainers tended to the wounds of war.

Jubilant cheers were few; the city was shrouded in silent sorrow.

For whom did the funeral bell toll?

Perhaps for those youthful domainers atop the inner walls, who threw themselves into the flames; perhaps for the innocent civilians who perished in the city’s fall, becoming the conflict’s first casualties.

Or perhaps, it tolled for Yu Zhou’s uncertain future.

There was no joy on the faces of the Seven Clans’ domainers; all were anxious about what lay ahead. The force they had exhausted themselves to defeat today was only a surprise detachment—should the Lin clan’s four main battle legions arrive in the future, this desperate, time-buying tactic would be utterly useless.

Even Wei Shaoqing wore a face full of worry, the backlash from forcibly ascending to Chitian in such a short span nearly tearing his aged body apart. If he had to endure it again, his name would vanish from the world.

The Ten Elders gazed at the clear sky, which only recently had been blanketed with dark clouds, exchanging bitter smiles. Of the original ten, only six remained. Xi Wenqian had fallen on the ramparts; Liang Chengyu had been worn down and killed by the Lin clan’s coordinated mechs in the thick of battle. Song Shuming had died the most wretchedly, running into the Wangchuan Legion alone in the outer city, his grandson obliterated along with him. As for Bai Chengli, panic had overtaken him; he’d tried to flee with several close kin at midnight, only to be reported by his own relatives and summarily executed by the remaining elders on the steps of the Bai estate, as a warning.

Wei Shaoqing sighed deeply, helpless. “None of us could have expected that one day, we old men would become prey in the eyes of others.” The remaining “Ten Elders” all sighed, brows furrowed—this was a catastrophe not seen in a century; from commoner to noble, none had been spared.

Ying Mao surveyed the group and spoke slowly: “Today, Yu Zhou has met with this great tribulation, but there is little time for us to wallow in grief. The ‘Ten Elders’ was an institution established by our ancestors, and must not be left incomplete. We should quickly fill the vacancies. I recommend Gan Yulin of the Gan family. Though young, these are extraordinary times, which call for extraordinary measures. I hope everyone will set aside convention and recommend the talented.”

All nodded in agreement. The Gan family had risen in recent years, and Gan Yulin’s performance had been outstanding—there were no objections. All eyes turned to Wei Shaoqing, awaiting his decision. He was straightforward, nodding and continuing Ying Mao’s suggestion: “The remaining two seats, according to tradition, should be filled by the Xi and Liang families. As for the Bai family’s seat, rather than give it to them, I propose we open it to all, appointing talent wherever it is found. Another matter: this time, all Seven Clans suffered heavy losses. I suggest we open the ‘Ten Elders’ seats as well, and stop suppressing domainers outside the Seven Clans. Bring them all in; from now on, there shall be no distinction between Seven Clans and other domainers of Yu Zhou. All shall stand together as one. You’ve all seen how many domainers aided us this time! Did we ever witness such solidarity during the civil wars of Wen Yuan Shenzhou before?”

No sooner had he finished than Ying Mao echoed his support. The remaining elders exchanged glances, and could only nod in reluctant agreement.

...

In a small courtyard, Liu Qingshan gazed curiously at the bound Xie Daoyun, whom Lin Changtian had dragged back. The two stared at each other, wide-eyed, neither willing to speak first.