Chapter 848: The Loyal Will Die First

Chapter 848: The Loyal Shall Die First

"Rebels... rebels... every last one of them is a rebel! Aaaah!!!"

On the border between Mazhou and Mammoth Province, a crooked trench carved out a battlefield in disarray.

Amid the torrential rain, rolling thunder rumbled, extinguishing the smoldering flames on the withered grass and drowning out the moans of wounded soldiers in the trenches.

Standing outside the military tent at the front line, General Arayan tilted his face skyward and pounded his chest with his right fist.

The staccato sound was impossible to tell whether it was weeping or laughter, yet it bore an eerie resemblance to the captain of the imperial guard stationed at the palace gates.

Damn it...

How hateful!

Arayan's heart was filled with resentment.

He possessed the skills of a warrior, meant to shine on the battlefield, yet he had never expected to fall to such a state.

It was mid-March now.

Nearly two months had passed since the fall of the Heavenly Capital.

In just two months, the Heavenly Capital had changed hands twice, and Xilan had lost nearly all its territory.

The front lines were no different.

After nearly half a year of bitter fighting, the Gray Wolf Army had been pushed back to the original border.

At the end of last year, they could still trade blows with Laxi's forces, even scoring several brilliant victories at New Year's with tanks sent by the legion.

But those rebels seemed endless.

Wave after wave they died, and wave after wave they surged forward, tearing into his Gray Wolves in the mire.

Those bastards grew stronger with each fight—at first just a rabble of stragglers, now they even had exoskeletons and aircraft.

On his side, the Gray Wolf Army grew wearier with every battle, until now even logistics had failed them.

Especially as the rainy season began in northern Bolo Province.

A sudden downpour only worsened the plight of his already struggling supply lines.

The armored spearhead, mired in mud and unable to retreat in time, was forced to surrender en masse as the resistance forces encircled and divided them, while Mosquito attack planes screamed overhead.

Now the entire Gray Wolf Army numbered only thirty thousand, lacking not only ammunition but also food and clothing—utterly battered and humiliated.

And because of the earlier scorched-earth strategy, there wasn't a village within a hundred li, making it nearly impossible to borrow grain from locals.

Morale among the Gray Wolf troops was wavering.

No one wanted to fight anymore, and there was simply no point in continuing...

Xilan had already fallen.

Though the signs of doom came slowly, the moment the edifice truly crumbled was faster than anyone had anticipated.

Just a few months ago, people consoled themselves that a starved camel was still bigger than a horse, yet in only a few months, the entire Bolo Province couldn't even find a few who still remembered it.

Including his most loyal subordinates.

Hearing that Abusek was a Wolfman and that Wolf Province had been liberated, they even began to entertain the idea of defecting to the Bolo Nation.

"General... we can't fight anymore. Our supplies are cut off."

Standing in the rain, watching the general howl, Staff Officer Gopal knelt on the ground, ignoring the rain pouring into his throat, and looked up at him pleadingly.

"If we turn south now and take Mazhou... perhaps we can preserve the last breath of Xilan. Once the Tiger Army moves north and takes Mazhou, we'll have no chance at all!"

This was actually the worst option.

The best was to surrender to the Mammoth Nation, the middle to the Tiger Army, and the worst to the Bolo Nation.

But faced with Arayan, who was impervious to reason, he couldn't bring himself to speak those real solutions.

Gopal now truly believed it.

This man was a true loyalist!

They had countless chances to break away on their own, yet he had passed them all up without exception.

The history books of Bolo Province would surely have a page for him...

But why...

Why did he have to be his general!

Gopal was so anxious he felt his heart might seize.

"Silence!!!"

Arayan suddenly bellowed, cutting off that treasonous talk.

His roar was like a thunderclap, startling Gopal so much he nearly collapsed to the ground.

His face was etched with deep hatred, as if he wished to chew up the raindrops on his lips.

"Do you think I'm like Laxi... that ingrate dog? I am Arayan! I am the empire's god of war!"

Gopal stared at him in despair, his lips trembling.

"But the empire... the empire has already..."

The word "fallen" was swallowed by the rain.

His heart too was filled with resentment.

If only they could have fought a fair battle, but instead they had been defeated time and again by their own people.

It had been like this since Golden Gallon Port.

If Prince Dilip hadn't been such a fool, trapped in the city and outmaneuvered by that Laxi, even if they suffered some losses at the hands of those rabble, they wouldn't have been driven into the Eternal Flow River to swim.

That was the shame of his life.

The shame of the entire Gray Wolf Army.

Arayan knew his staff officer wanted to say more, but he didn't want to hear it.

After a long moment, however, as if he had come to some realization, he let out a long sigh.

"You go."

"I..." Gopal was stunned, not understanding his meaning.

Arayan was silent for a while, then continued in a calm, measured tone.

"Whether you go north or south, I won't stop you. With your talent, being a general might be a stretch, but serving as a staff officer should be no problem."

He then looked toward the distant trench, as if speaking to Gopal, or perhaps to himself.

"You've followed me so long, staked everything you had, just to win fame and return home in glory. But now that fame is gone, many brothers are crippled, forced into rebellion... It wouldn't be right for me to keep you any longer."

"Take the rest and leave."

In the pouring rain, all was silent, save for the patter of raindrops striking the mud.

Gopal's eyes widened, staring incredulously at his general's back, unable to speak for a long time.

He guessed what he was about to do, but did not know how to stop him.

And just then, Arya let out another furious roar.

"Get out!!"

"Yes!"

Gopal screamed hoarsely as he accepted the order, gritting his teeth and rising from the muddy ground, turning back at every step as he staggered toward the camp.

Rain blurred his vision.

And blurred Arya as well.

"Crash—"

The rain fell even harder.

Everywhere, the roar of wind and thunder raged, like the apocalypse two hundred years ago, as if it would swallow the entire world.

He did not know how long he stood in the rain.

In a daze, Arya's gaze pierced the curtain of rain and saw many figures.

Those people stood silently outside the trenches, on the rain-shrouded ruins of the village, watching him without a word.

Arya's eyes widened, but those people vanished again, and only when the rain once more blurred his vision did he see them anew.

In that moment, he suddenly remembered who those people were.

They were the wronged souls who had died on the state border...

They had come to claim his life.

His.

And the empire he guarded.

"Ha ha ha ha ha!"

Arya suddenly laughed.

He tilted his face to the sky, laughed wildly for a long time, then abruptly drew the sidearm from his waist.

So ghosts really did exist in this world...

He used to think it was all just a game.

"I curse you..."

Arya's face twisted as he released the safety and pressed the muzzle against his own chin.

"Rasi..."

"And all of you... every traitor and rebel... may you die a miserable death!"

"Even if I become a vengeful spirit, even if I am never reincarnated... I will drag you down to hell!"

"I'll wait for you there! Wait for you to come down and keep me company! I'll fight you again, blade to blade!!!"

Suddenly, a rumbling of thunder rolled across the sky.

As if heaven itself bore witness, Arya let out one final roar, then pulled the trigger, writing the last stroke of "loyalty."

"Bang—!"

A flash of fire, and he crashed to the ground.

In the instant before his consciousness plunged into the abyss, he dimly recalled that one of his ten-thousand commanders had died just like that.

At the time, he had only felt regret—that man had not needed to die—but now, thinking back, it seemed he himself had been the one who could not see clearly.

Long, long ago, his legs had already been buried in the red earth, but the burial had never been completed.

Perhaps he should have died long ago...

...

The rainstorm lasted five days and five nights, only easing slightly on the morning of the sixth day.

But this year, Mammoth State was not like previous years. Although the Tasan River had flooded for a while, it did not turn the entire southeast of the state into a watery wasteland.

Rasi was a man who repaid what he borrowed.

Though he had pinned the blame for blowing up the riverbank on a dead man, he still cleaned up the mess.

Since implementing the policy of labor export, the Mammoth State authorities had used cement bought from West Sailport to build a larger dam on the Tasan River, equipped with generators, and had planned a dedicated flood detention area based on the advice of the Union's hydrogeological experts.

The old riverbank had been the private property of the nobles, but this new dam would serve everyone in Mammoth State.

Beyond that, the authorities had used a network of irrigation canals to expand the irrigated area from the nobles' lands to the villages set up to settle the refugees.

Even though the elders of the Moon Tribe Resistance disliked his style, they had to admit that the man was, in a certain sense, a capable person.

He was solving concrete problems with concrete methods...

In the camp.

Shava, the captain of the assault unit, lifted the tent flap and entered, reporting to Rasi, who was gazing down at a map.

"The Gray Wolf Army has retreated."

Rasi showed no surprise.

If the rain had not lasted so long, the five divisions he had deployed on the border might have already surrounded the enemy.

"Where are they headed?"

Shava said in a low voice.

"South..."

South...

So they had gone south after all.

Rasi was stunned for a long moment, a sudden melancholy rising in his heart. It seemed Arya truly despised him.

Going south was the worst possible move.

Whether joining the Tiger Army or seizing Horse State to stand alone, there was no future—it was even worse than going west to Boro State to gamble on Abusek's magnanimity and tolerance.

Tiger State faced the sea on one side and was surrounded by powerful neighbors on three sides; there was simply no way to open up strategic space.

The geography dictated that no matter how big a local warlord grew, he could only be a mountain king, and one mountain could not hold two tigers.

If he were in Arya's position, he would have gone north to join him—only he would have given Arya a significant role.

After all, the Moon Tribe Resistance was not monolithic; even from the perspective of maintaining a balance, taking him in had its advantages.

Seeing the melancholy in Rasi's eyes, Shava continued in a grave tone.

"Also, we captured a few deserters from the Gray Wolf Army at the border. According to them... their general is dead."

"Dead?! Arya?" Rasi stared at him in shock, stepping forward to grab his shoulders. "How is that possible?! How did he die?"

Looking at his anxious commander, Shava gave a bitter smile, shook his head, and said.

"...I don't know. They only said it was suicide."

Laxi released his shoulder, his eyes vacant, standing frozen in place for a long while.

After a moment, as if coming back to his senses, he looked at his subordinate and said.

"Spread the word: Alaiyang died in the bombing. This battle is ours."

"That fellow wasn't a good man, but he was a worthy opponent... lower the flag to half-mast for him."

Suicide is too shameful.

That fellow shouldn't have met such an end.

After all, he was an opponent he had fought for over half a year; he wanted to salvage some dignity for him.

Shawa asked no further questions, just nodded.

"Yes."

...

"Extra! Extra! Mosquito attack aircraft show great prowess! Empire's war god dead! Grey Wolf Army routed!"

"Xilan has fallen!"

On the streets of Jingalun Port, newsboys with satchels slung over their shoulders hawked from alley to alley; passersby hearing them fished out four-gallon coins to buy a still-warm newspaper from their hands.

Seeing the news on the extra-printed papers, the crowd on the street broke into astonished whispers.

"Alaiyang actually died?!"

"And killed by a plane!"

"Damn, that bastard should have died long ago!"

"I wonder if Wutuo will be so angry he'll die and go keep him company."

"Hahaha!"

The street was a cacophony of jeering mockery, and not a single person could be found to shed a tear for the empire.

And just over a dozen kilometers away on the Yongliu River, a certain man lying ill in bed hurled the newspaper in his hand to the floor with force.

"Unfilial son!"

Wutuo cursed under his breath, his eyes bulging like a goldfish's, then suddenly broke into a fit of coughing.

The eunuchs nearby were startled and hurriedly crowded around; some felt his pulse, others grabbed a towel to wipe his sweat, but Wutuo shoved them all away.

"Get out!"

His voice was like thunder, terrifying the eunuchs into kneeling on the ground and retreating to the side on their knees.

Hearing the noise from the "bedchamber," Prince Dilip entered from outside and happened to see the newspaper on the floor.

He instinctively bent to pick it up, but caught sight of the headline and wisely withdrew his hand.

[Akbar Xilan arrives at Xifan Port! Meets with Gurion, Three-Star Myriarch of the Southern Legion, to discuss establishing a separate Xilan court in the three northern provinces.]

A fine separate court indeed.

This was already too lazy to even pretend.

Prince Dilip sighed inwardly and walked to Wutuo's bedside.

"Your Majesty... please listen to the doctors' advice, read less news, and do not harm your noble body."

Since his last fainting spell, Wutuo's health had declined day by day, and now he could not even get out of bed.

Seeing Prince Dilip looking at him with such concern, Wutuo suddenly grinned, propped himself up on his elbows, and sat halfway up.

"Dilip... do you know why, back then, I didn't take you all westward?"

What other reason could there be? Because the Tianwang Army was to the west...

Dilip was inwardly amused and sad, lamenting that His Majesty truly had a sick mind, but he kept his head down and dared not say it.

"Your Majesty... forgive my dullness, I do not know."

A rosy sheen appeared on Wutuo's face, and a faint smile curled at the corners of his mouth.

"We and the Legion are both colonizers, only the objects of colonization differ... so we are natural allies. This is not determined by geography, but by something more fundamental."

"Yet precisely because we are both colonizers, we can only share in good fortune, not in hardship... Once we fall into trouble, they will not hesitate to bite us hard."

Many things cannot be understood when you are inside the game, but are clear when you stand outside.

It was only after leaving the Celestial Capital that he came to understand some things.

Those old nobles and aristocrats who cheered 'Your Majesty is wise' did not truly think him wise.

Those people standing on the shore watching him truly saw him as a monkey to be gawked at.

In the past, he lamented that everyone around him was a fool, that the vast Boro Province had few capable people; only upon arriving in Jingalun Port did he wake from his dream.

Boro Province was not without capable people; it was just that those with real talent were unwilling to serve him, and his own tolerance could not accommodate them. Over time, only true fools and clever people pretending to be fools remained by his side.

Perhaps he should have died earlier.

Wutuo let out a long sigh, and suddenly felt pity for those ministers who had suffered with him.

They have suffered...

"Dilip, my greatest regret now is sending Akbar to the north... At the time, I only thought not to put all eggs in one basket, to preserve a bloodline for the Xilan court, but I never imagined I would harm all the survivors of Boro Province."

"That unfilial son still cannot see... the Verant people are wolves in human skin. But I cannot blame him; I taught him myself, and I myself could not see clearly until the very end."

Dilip hurriedly raised his head, but was startled by the darkening of Wutuo's brow.

"What are you saying... Your Majesty, what do you mean 'until the very end'?! We still have three armies; if we can have them converge at Jingalun Port, reclaiming Xilan's realm is only a matter of time—"

"Gone," Wutuo waved his hand, coughed, forced a wine-red flush onto his face, and grinned with parched lips. "Yesterday I had a dream. Guess who I dreamed of? That fellow Alaiyang... Heh, he knelt outside my door. I called him in to speak, but he got up and left."

A bead of sweat seeped onto Dilip's forehead.

He had indeed heard some baseless rumors, but he never expected them to reach His Majesty's ears so quickly.

Who was it that brought these tidings to His Majesty?!

Not just the entire empire—could it be that they couldn't even control those around them?

Dilip broke out in a cold sweat, but Wutuo was unperturbed, sighing to himself.

"I have wronged him, and I have wronged the soldiers of the Grey Wolf Army... They are all loyal lads, the most loyal in the entire empire. The incompetent one is I, not them."

Dilip knelt on the ground, pressing his forehead tightly to the floor, and pleaded.

"Your Majesty... please say no more. Your body..."

Now nothing said or done would help; knowing too much was worse than not knowing. Living on was the most important thing.

Now that muddle-headed crown prince had gone to Xifan Port; if anything happened to His Majesty, it would be no simple matter of establishing a separate court—the empire's legitimate succession would truly fall into the Legion's hands!

Yet Wutuo did not heed his plea, and continued on his own.

"No! I must speak... My body can no longer hold out. If I don't finish saying what I have to say, I will not close my eyes in peace..."

As he spoke, he coughed twice more, and this time a trace of blood came up.

The nearest eunuch saw that blood, turned pale, scrambled up from the floor, and frantically grabbed a pill from the tray on the bedside table.

"Your Majesty, take your medicine..."

"Get out!"

Wu Tuo roared, shoving him so hard he stumbled backward, then, as if by a final flash of life, sat bolt upright.

"I don't want medicine!"

He took it every day, yet it never healed him—only made him worse.

Even a fool would sense something amiss; someone wished him dead.

That someone was not the Alliance.

Nor was it Golden Harbor.

Not even Rasi, who hated him, nor those feckless warlords.

Wu Tuo stared with bulging eyes at Dilip, who knelt trembling on the floor, as if these thoughts alone had drained every ounce of his strength.

He raised a trembling forefinger, pointing at his brother, and with his dying frame uttered his final words.

"I, the Emperor of Silan..."

"I shall pass the throne to..."

But cruel fate, or perhaps his countless misdeeds, played its trick.

Wu Tuo, mouth agape, nearly spoke Dilip's name, yet at that last moment, he breathed his last.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!!! What are you all kneeling for? Get up and save him!"

Seeing his brother fallen on the bed, Dilip wept like a child, screaming hysterically, urging the frantic eunuchs to rise.

He did not want to be emperor.

He only wanted Wu Tuo to wake and shoulder that crushing burden again.

The room filled with sobs.

The eunuchs rushed to the bedside, clumsily lifting the emperor, forcing the pill into his mouth, feeding him water, only to find he had already drawn his final breath.

"Your Majesty!"

"Wake up, Your Majesty!"

"Wah... ahhh!!"

Grief-stricken cries filled the chamber; not only Prince Dilip wailed, but nearly everyone wept uncontrollably, faces bathed in tears.

All but one.

A young maid.

At eighteen, she had a lovely face and figure, like a lotus in midsummer.

Born into a minor noble family in Golden Harbor, she had lived a pampered life, like the men and women in *Tales After the Storm*.

When Governor Nihaq fell from grace, her family declined, and as the second daughter, she had to fend for herself, working at a theater in the port district.

She was a woman who adapted to circumstances; having seen the splendor of the new era, she felt little nostalgia for the old nobility.

Money was enough.

With money, she could live better than before—even better than her father, who knelt on the deck of a royal merchant ship, begging with tears and snot.

And just two months ago, her distant uncle found her and asked her to do a task.

He promised a fortune in return—more than she could earn in a lifetime.

She agreed without hesitation.

With her uncle's help, she joined a troupe performing on this ship, and as expected, Wu Tuo, hosting a banquet, took a fancy to her and brought her into the palace.

Her job was simple: swap the doctor's medicine for sugar pills, and occasionally whisper tales of Golden Harbor in his ear.

She didn't need to praise it openly—just make him realize how failed an emperor he was.

Stepping out of the cabin, she took the bottle of sugar pills from her sleeve and emptied them into the river, watching them dissolve into nothing on the undulating waters.

She cared not whether they were sugar or poison; it no longer mattered.

That useless old man had long had his roots in the red earth; dying sooner or later made no difference, whether or not anyone gave him a push.

Rather, he should thank her for sparing him the fate of a fallen monarch.

She took out a tiny earring and fastened it to her translucent earlobe, a faint smile curling her red lips.

"Uncle."

"That man is dead. Can you tell me the password to that card now?"

The surging river buried the final conspiracy.

While the empire's old ministers still wept, a telegram, passed through many hands, had already reached Westport Harbor.

In the camp's command post, General Gurion, reading the telegram handed by his trusted aide, finally allowed a smile to creep across his stern lips.

Half a month had passed since that trial, and he had heard no good news for a while. Now, at last, something worthy of a smile had occurred.

"Excellent!"

With that, he slapped the telegram onto the command table and strode to the map.

He studied the strategic deployments for a long moment, then turned to his aide and ordered,

"Terminate Operation 'Migratory Bird.' Launch Operation 'Cuckoo.' Have Akbar prepare immediately to ascend the throne and inherit Wu Tuo's crown."

"Furthermore, issue an ultimatum to the Mammoth State authorities, demanding they immediately withdraw from the three northern provinces and return them to Silan's new king, Prince Akbar! The Legion will not abandon its ally. If these rebels refuse, we will avenge Arayan!"

"Also, send a telegram to the Kingdom of Bora in the name of the Silan court, demanding military passage rights. If they refuse, we cannot guarantee their absolute safety."

His aide snapped to attention and saluted.

"Yes!"

Watching his aide stride out of the tent, General Gurion smiled contentedly, turning back to the map now divided into several sectors by his battle lines.

The three northern provinces were currently under Mammoth State's control; roughly five divisions were deployed along Dog Province's border, mostly light infantry and artillery.

Three ten-thousand-man corps would be enough to break through.

Once Dog Province was taken, he could launch the second phase—a pincer attack from the west and north on the heart of Bora, Ox Province, where the capital lay.

All preparations were complete, waiting only for a single shot.

He had planned for this day too long.

The grand drama was finally about to begin!