Volume One: The Emperor's Command Chapter 87: Heroes Rise Amidst Chaos

Outside Changle City, the winds were unusually bleak, and though winter’s chill had not yet arrived, every trace of warmth had been swept away by a constant aura of killing intent. At night, sentries donned heavy armor and iron helmets, their eyes peering out from narrow slits as they patrolled the camp.

Xue Ren had not closed his eyes for several nights, battle reports piling up on his desk—all bearing news of defeat.

“Those useless fools from Mount Immortal—couldn’t even hold Blaze City for seven days, lost hundreds of men! The Four Elders of Spring and Autumn are nothing but nonsense!” Xue Ren’s curses drifted from his tent, and what angered him further were the county magistrates who surrendered at the first sign of trouble. Upon learning that Celestial King’s Path had taken four cities, they abandoned resistance and opened their gates.

Chang Qingsong, Minister of War for Zhengle Prefecture, camped on the western flank with over two hundred thousand troops; Lord Qi commanded more than two hundred thousand, and Li Zai’s three hundred thousand elite Yongqing cavalry were entrenched in the southwest. All sides held their positions, waiting for reinforcements.

Inside Changle City, the number of Prince Qin’s soldiers was unknown. Scouts could only see his banners fluttering; thousands of men rotated guard duty atop the walls daily. The city had surely been transformed into a military fortress—no difficult feat, given Prince Qin’s temperament.

Everyone waited for their own reinforcements, knowing that whoever revealed their hand first would lose any chance at victory. Xue Ren was anxious because Mount Immortal’s intervention had not produced the expected results; instead, Cui Ran had gained the upper hand.

Though several battles had been won at the front, none had struck at Cui Ran’s foundation. With Celestial King’s Path’s reinforcements nearly arrived, Xue Ren’s worry only deepened.

“Master, Celestial King’s Path will arrive by dawn tomorrow. Why don’t we sneak into Cui Ran’s camp tonight and kill him first?” Returning to the main camp, Ma Deren grew increasingly unsettled. He’d nearly lost his life at Blaze City despite Celestial King’s Path’s inability to defeat him, and upon his return he sought Xue Ren’s permission to strike again.

The Four Elders of Spring and Autumn, each bearing wounds, had long since retired to the mountains to recuperate, refusing further involvement. Had it not been for Xue Pan’s restraint, Xue Ren would have already unleashed his fury upon them.

“No. Cui Ran is protected by martial experts; if you approach, you risk your life.”

“Impossible. My fellow disciples have arrived, and with their aid, tonight’s task will be easily accomplished.” Ma Deren referred to his fellow practitioners, all highly skilled, their martial prowess rivaling his own.

Xue Ren, his head throbbing, waved him away. “Leave for now. If our army moves, the other factions may exploit the opening—this must be discussed further.”

Denied permission, Ma Deren left the tent, shaking his head in frustration. Outside, several sharp-faced, monkey-cheeked companions awaited him.

“Brother, what’s the situation? When do we act tonight?”

“Forget it. They rejected our plan,” Ma Deren replied, unwilling to accept defeat.

“Come on, Brother. Why have you lost your fire since leaving the mountain? With our combined strength, there’s nowhere we can’t go! With our skills, we could stroll through any ordinary camp—arrows wouldn’t touch us!”

The four of them were notorious troublemakers on Mount Immortal, but they could handle themselves. Alongside Ma Deren and Ma Mingyuan, they feared no one.

Their joint technique was rare—each wielded a circular blade edged with knives, an obscure weapon among the arsenal of strange arms. The technique required perfect unity; only absolute harmony could unleash its full power. When activated, they faced four opponents at once, their moves unpredictable and formidable—hence their bold claims.

“You four go wait with Mingyuan. I’ll scout the camp and act tonight.” Ma Deren resolved to take matters into his own hands; if Xue Ren wouldn’t allow it, he’d bring back Cui Ran’s head himself and shame him.

From the camp gate, he could see the opposing camp’s formation—disciplined, not at all defeated, with four patrol squads encircling it.

Each day, Cui Ran personally inspected the camp, rallying the soldiers’ morale. Though he’d suffered setbacks, it was all part of his feigned maneuvers; the soldiers on the front lines had been recruited along the way.

The true Yanliang infantry were still conserving their strength, awaiting the arrival of Celestial King’s Path’s reinforcements.

“General Cui, word is Celestial King’s Path’s Feng Nanjue has seized three cities and slain over a hundred men from Mount Immortal in a single stroke, breaking their spirit. They’ll arrive today. When do we attack?”

Cui Ran was accompanied by a strategist versed in astronomy and geography, whose schemes had united Yanliang prefecture under one banner.

In Yanliang’s impoverished, remote borderlands, survival was a struggle—let alone rebellion.

“We’ll wait for the Sect Master of Dao Market to arrive before making plans. Not only must we guard against Mount Immortal, but the Langya swordsmen are far more dangerous. If they strike suddenly, who among our men could withstand them?”

Cui Ran’s greatest concern was the five thousand swordsmen brought by the Crown Prince from Langya. By rights, they should already be here, but his scouts had found no trace—an ominous sign.

Langya was unlike any other place—the world’s foremost sword sect, with one hundred thousand disciples and three hundred sword lodges, countless famed blades, true masters in abundance. The Crown Prince’s eight sword attendants were said to hail from Langya, sworn to protect his safety.

“No need to worry too much. The Langya swordsmen are fierce, but Celestial King’s Path is no paper tiger. When it comes to warfare, no sect surpasses us.”

As they spoke, a sudden gale howled. Before they could react, sand and dust whipped up, collapsing a section of the camp wall.

“Strategist, retreat! Enemy attack!” Cui Ran instinctively grabbed his companion and fled, hair standing on end. He dove forward, narrowly dodging layers of sword energy, but the camp soldiers were not so lucky—many were cleaved in two.

Hundreds of sword tips emerged from the sandstorm, and a loud, clear cry rang out: “Langya!”

With another synchronized strike, the nearby tents within dozens of feet were shredded, leaving only debris.

“Loose tongues bring trouble—Langya is here! Archers, aim! Shieldmen, hold the formation. Even Langya cannot breach our camp!” Cui Ran, appointed by the Iron Dynasty as General of the Eastern Expedition, reacted swiftly; during a lull in the assault, he stood and issued precise commands.

Three rows of shieldmen surrounded Cui Ran, while archers atop the watchtowers loosed volley after volley. The Langya swordsmen wore no armor—arrows could easily pierce their flesh.

But they were not so easily vanquished; not a single arrow struck home, all shattered by sword energy. Hundreds strode boldly into the shieldmen’s ranks, slaughtering as they went.

Cui Ran fled in disarray, glancing back at the ravaged battlefield. The enemy numbered no more than five hundred—he saw no sign of the Crown Prince—but even with several times their number, his troops were being massacred.

“Form a ring! Surround them, don’t attack! The longer we delay, the better our odds. Don’t let them escape!”

Easier said than done. The steel shields shattered under the swords as easily as cicada wings; in the blink of an eye, over a thousand perished. Without Cui Ran’s command, the formation would have collapsed.

“General Cui, do not panic! Celestial King’s Path has arrived!”

From the direction of Yanliang, another column of dust surged forward, smashing the camp gates and heading straight for the battlefield.

Feng Nanjue, wielding a dragon-headed steel blade, led the charge, leaping into the fray and slashing at the nearest foe.

As disciples of Celestial King’s Path poured into the battle, the tide began to turn; the swordsmen started taking casualties.

“The Crown Prince’s sword attendants are here—where is the Prince?” Feng Nanjue turned and spotted several familiar faces: three of the Crown Prince’s eight sword attendants stood nearby.

The three recognized him and, knowing Feng Nanjue was a formidable opponent, moved to encircle him.

“Old Xie, why are you consorting with these Celestial King’s Path scoundrels? Step forward and help us capture this fellow!”

Xie Dongting had arrived with Celestial King’s Path’s troops; upon seeing the Langya insignia, his expression darkened.

Bai Yiting approached, patting his shoulder. “Go on. We won’t make things difficult for you. Langya has its own rules, doesn’t it?”

The other sect masters nodded. The rules of the martial world could not be broken—attacking from behind was the act of cowards; respected sects would never stoop so low.

“Thank you, seniors. Farewell!” Xie Dongting clasped his fists, drew his sword, and charged at Feng Nanjue.

Gu Nanli, Jin Xifeng, Xie Dongting, and Guan Sixi, four swordsmen, joined forces against Feng Nanjue. After a single exchange, Feng Nanjue’s back was drenched in sweat, four bloody gashes marking his body.

Yet Feng Nanjue showed no fear; his eyes blazed with fighting spirit, the steel blade radiating fierce energy, steadily diminishing the power of the sword aura.

His cultivation was peculiar—it required a relentless advance, never retreating; the more he fought, the stronger his blade became.

He was no match for any of the four, his wounds multiplying—but they could not subdue him. Instead, his fighting spirit grew. After ten moves, sword energy could no longer approach him.

“If we can’t capture him, we’ll cut him down. We can’t let his strength grow—this blood aura is unnatural!” Guan Sixi twisted his sword, spinning to slash at the waist, while the other three soared above, striking down.

A killing blow! Feng Nanjue’s blood aura could not withstand the four. Just as he prepared to trade lives with Guan Sixi, a spear pinned itself between them, deflecting Guan Sixi’s blade.

“I’m not dead. You won’t kill my junior brother.”

The three above were forced back by a wave of air, landing beside Guan Sixi.

Beside Feng Nanjue now stood a master with shredded sleeves, still wearing that roguish smile. “Junior brother Feng, see? If I hadn’t come, you’d be in trouble.”

“Where did this scoundrel come from? Kill him too!”

From here, it was all extraordinary skill—Xie Dongting’s flying locust stones showered down, Gu Nanli lifted a thin wire from his waist and pulled a net from the earth, ensnaring Zhang Yi.

“Never mind sword practice—always playing with tricks!” Zhang Yi shook his spear, shattering the net, thrusting at Gu Nanli. “Let me show you how to truly cultivate skill!”