Volume One: The Emperor’s Decree Chapter Thirty-Nine: Saving a Life is Like Fighting a Fire

When Duan Hongling burst in, both Meng Tan and Zhao Ge were startled, momentarily forgetting they were in the midst of battle before the girl they each admired.

“What are you doing here?” the two demanded in unison, leaving Duan Hongling momentarily at a loss.

Meng Tan was the first to recover, a look of resentment flickering across his face. “Miss Duan, in what way am I inferior to this fellow? You’d risk your life to charge into a burning camp just to save him!”

Duan Hongling flushed scarlet in embarrassment. All around them, the clamor of battle was rising; it was her own troops, emboldened by their commander’s fearless leap over the flaming barricade, rallying their courage and storming in after her with weapons raised.

The ground trembled, shaking the already unstable wooden walls until they collapsed in great chunks, blocking any chance of reinforcements for the moment.

The defenders encircled the pair. At Meng Tan’s command, his soldiers surged forward, attacking together.

Duan Hongling’s jade sword sliced through iron as though it were mud, severing any weapon it touched with ease. Zhao Ge’s wolf-headed broadsword spun in a seamless defense, leaving no opening.

On the hillside, Gao Zhen saw their formation cut off by fire and quickly ordered Hu San and his men to use their tunics as makeshift sacks, filling them with sand and racing up the slope.

“Brother Tang, if we don’t act now, when will we? Let’s storm the stronghold!”

This was the moment they’d been waiting for. In Xia Liang’s armory, there were more treatises on warfare and martial arts than anywhere else, and with little else to do, Liu Xiaoyi had read everything he could get his hands on—he was a strategist on paper if nothing else.

Eight hundred men arrived at the front, carrying sand in their sacks, and hurled them high, sending up a cloud of dust that formed a safe passageway through the flames.

Tang Qiu, sword in hand, didn’t bother with his horse. Gripping his blade tightly, he cut a path of sparks straight through the gates.

Behind him, four wealthy merchants saw the breach and wasted no time spurring their troops forward. Banners fluttered, drums thundered, and battle cries resounded, all reaching Meng Tan’s ears and unsettling him.

Outnumbered and outmatched—only a fool would stay behind!

Before fleeing, he snatched up a bow and fired three arrows at Zhao Ge, trapped within the encirclement. Only one found its mark, striking Zhao Ge in the right arm.

His grip on the broadsword faltered; with a cry of pain, he was run through by a spear, armor and all, a bloody wound opening at his waist as he collapsed to the ground.

“If you’ve got the guts, come to Chenzhou City—we’ll settle this there!” Meng Tan shouted as he galloped away, escaping through the rear gate in panic. Pursuers followed in droves; just as the distance between them closed, a violent explosion erupted beneath their feet, shattering even the hardest rock and sending deadly shrapnel flying.

Meng Tan had his escape planned from the start. This stronghold, with its low wooden walls and lack of natural defenses, was never meant for prolonged resistance. The outcome had long been decided, and he’d prepared crude gunpowder landmines along the retreat—deadly inventions born from the Iron Dynasty’s alchemists, who, in their quest for immortality, had stumbled across explosive mixtures.

Most pursuers fell not to arrows but to the flying rocks from the explosions. In just a few dozen meters, hundreds of soldiers perished—a testament to Meng Tan’s ruthlessness and cunning as a commander.

Zhao Ge lay gravely wounded, pale as death. Duan Hongling stood guard over him, her own body marked by dozens of wounds, despair clouding her eyes.

“If we can’t escape today, I suppose your wish will come true,” she murmured, forcing a smile for Zhao Ge. In that brief moment of distraction, her jade sword was caught by a spear, leaving her defenseless.

Suddenly, a flash of blade-light appeared at the horizon, followed by a shower of peach blossoms swirling through the air, deflecting the spears aimed at her. The air grew cold, making Duan Hongling shiver.

“Fear not, Miss Duan—Tang Qiu is here!” With a sweeping stroke, Tang Qiu carved a bloody path through the enemy, relishing his chance to play the hero. With the enemy commander fled, these stragglers posed no threat to him; it was his stage alone. He swung his blade with gusto, only to have it catch in a soldier’s breastplate, stuck fast.

Tang Qiu’s face blanched, sweat beading on his brow. Two spears jabbed toward him. He released the hilt, clamped the spears beneath his arms, and with a mighty yell snapped them both.

“What strength!” Liu Xiaoyi laughed, as Hu San and the mountain bandits surged forward, overwhelming the soldiers by sheer numbers. Any who resisted were cut down without mercy. For these bandits, such work was second nature. Hu San, voice hoarse from shouting, could barely contain his excitement.

“Glorious! This is what we were born to do! Why be bandits when we can be warriors on the battlefield? Take them all—no survivors!”

The bandits, with the alertness of hares and the cunning of rats, surged through the alleys and short streets of the stronghold, seizing horses, supplies, and stores of grain left unburned.

Liu Xiaoyi helped Zhao Ge up, sealing his vital points to slow the bleeding, then ordered men to carry him away for treatment; among the group leaders were accompanying physicians.

“Boss! Boss! We’re rich!” Before long, Hu San came running, beaming, clad in new black iron armor, saber and chain at his side, leading a fine chestnut warhorse.

“This is a ‘Drifting Sand Shadow’ horse, a specialty of Chenzhou City. Who’d have thought there’d be one left in the stables? This is a priceless steed!” Hu San grinned, eager for praise, as he presented it to Liu Xiaoyi.

Though Liu Xiaoyi was somewhat displeased, for now he let it pass. Their own equipment was poor, and better gear might mean surviving the coming siege.

Elsewhere, a quartermaster came to tally the casualties—apart from losses to the two assault teams, most had survived unscathed.

Not far ahead, smoke was already rising from Chenzhou City, black clouds blotting out half the sky. Clearly, Cui Ying’s forces had broken through another outpost and were now clashing with the city defenders.

It was only now that Cao Wenzhao and the others arrived. Dismounting, they clasped their fists and bowed to Liu Xiaoyi. “Young master, your decisive action saved Miss Duan and her companion—we can’t thank you enough. Truly, heroes are forged in youth; we are ashamed in comparison.”

“There’s no need for such formality. As for these supplies, my men may have overstepped their bounds,” Liu Xiaoyi replied. Whoever leads the charge deserves the lion’s share of the spoils, but Hu San’s eagerness had been less than honorable.

Cao Wenzhao waved a hand. “Do we look like we’re short of a few supplies? You risked your life to save them; the spoils are yours by right. Miss Duan is a friend of ours—once this is over, we hope you’ll visit us at our estate. May I ask your name, young master?”