Chapter 287: Passing The Torch

Chapter 287: The Torch

The wall soon became a meat grinder.

Yesterday’s corpses had yet to be cleared, and today new ones were added.

A breach in the wall did not mean it could no longer be defended, but it limited the tactics available, demanding more raw strength and courage.

No matter how many enemies there were, how many could crowd into the breach at once?

The weather grew colder, the snow falling heavier each day. If they could hold out until the snow truly set in, the barbarians would retreat on their own. They were flesh and blood too, with tribes and families; they could not grind on here forever.

With that realization came boundless courage.

No matter how exhausted, no matter how depleted of supplies and arrows, hope remained.

Huangfu Yongxian held the breach himself, his spear thrusting straight through, impaling two barbarian warriors. With a mighty heave, he flung their bodies backward, toppling a swath of the enemy formation.

Cui Yuanyong’s sword light flowed like silk as he guarded Huangfu Yongxian’s side, admiration stirring in his heart.

He wondered if he would still possess such divine might in his old age.

As the legitimate heir of a great clan, Cui Yuanyong had once found it hard to empathize with the frontier soldiers’ emotions or to grasp what Huangfu Yongxian was thinking. In his view, even if the barbarians broke through the pass, they would likely need to compromise with the Cui family to stabilize the realm and sit on the throne. When that time came, a simple change of banners would leave Qinghe Cui still Qinghe Cui.

Dynasties come and go, but great clans endure. Wasn’t the Huangfu family the same? Why fight so hard…

The emperor not ruling? Wasn’t that fine? It only made it easier for them to be local tyrants.

He had come to the frontier ostensibly to aid in defense, but in truth, it was for battlefield experience. He wanted to make the Human Roll, and this was an excellent training ground.

But as the months passed and the fighting dragged on, a subtle change took root in Cui Yuanyong’s heart.

Yesterday, friends who laughed and drank and cursed together were today’s corpses on the wall. The subordinates who respectfully called him Young Master Cui or Commander Cui had been replaced time and again, their young faces flickering before him like a revolving lantern.

A numbness set in, where life and death grew faint.

Yet there was also a fire burning in his blood.

It felt as though his blood, too, was being poured into this fortress along with theirs. Every brick and stone here was no longer mere masonry—it was flesh and blood. The flesh of friends, of subordinates, and his own heart and soul.

It was a spirit of dying with the city, something no wandering martial artist could ever experience.

As long as I am here, the fortress stands.

Cui Yuanyong finally understood Huangfu Yongxian. To make a man like that give up would be worse than killing him.

So he would not give up.

Father said to retreat to Qinghe if things became hopeless… Sorry, I can’t do that.

“Clang!” Not far away, several spears struck Situ Xiao’s body, ringing like metal on metal.

Situ Xiao bared his teeth in a grin, swept his heavy sword, and heads flew.

Cui Yuanyong envied that iron-body training—it was too convenient in such a melee. Others had to wear armor, cumbersome and less protective, while Situ Xiao had far more room to maneuver here than he did.

But it could backfire. It worked well against ordinary soldiers, but if a true expert came, it was easily broken.

“Brother Situ, be careful!” Cui Yuanyong shot forward like a shooting star, thrusting his sword into a sneak attacker’s throat.

Situ Xiao turned and grinned. “Thanks. I didn’t want to join the chivalrous camp because I couldn’t stand the smug faces of those noble scions. Didn’t expect you to be decent—better than Wang Zhaoling.”

Cui Yuanyong sighed helplessly. “Is this the time for that?”

“What I mean is, if you retreat, I won’t mock you. The legitimate heir of Qinghe Cui has no reason to die here.”

“Why can’t the legitimate heir of Qinghe Cui die here?” Cui Yuanyong asked in genuine surprise. “The true disciple of the Divine Flame Sect—are you thinking of leaving?”

Situ Xiao laughed. “We’re just wandering martial artists, living for the moment. The Divine Flame Sect has plenty of heirs; it won’t miss me.”

Cui Yuanyong thrust his sword into an enemy’s throat and laughed. “Funny, same here.”

Situ Xiao threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Then let’s not speak ill-omened words. Neither of us will die.”

“Damn it, who started with the ill-omened words?” Cui Yuanyong snapped irritably. “What makes you so sure we won’t die?”

Situ Xiao laughed. “Nothing, just a little encouragement. Anyway, if you and I survive this, we’re guaranteed a spot on the Human Roll. I don’t believe that Xue Canghai or the like have ever faced such a trial.”

“Shit.” Cui Yuanyong looked up at the endless sea of enemies, feeling in his heart that they really might die.

A sudden thought struck him: Zhao Changhe had been behind enemy lines for so long. There had been a flash from the Chaos Scroll earlier, then silence. Even their intelligence network had lost track of him.

Could he be dead? No, if the Hidden Dragon fell, the Chaos Scroll should flash again. It hadn’t, so he wasn’t dead.

He wondered what the hell Zhao Changhe was up to.

And he wondered which of them—him or Zhao Changhe—would make his sister sadder if they died.

“General!” Someone hurried to report to Huangfu Yongxian. “Dust in the northwest distance—the War Lion tribe is approaching.”

Huangfu Yongxian knocked a barbarian off his spear, his expression shifting. “So they’ve come at last…”

Cui Yuanyong and the others nearby looked grim.

They had still hoped to hold out until the snow… but with fresh reinforcements, they might truly not last…

…

The Barbarian Golden Tent.

Tiemuer stood behind the formation, gazing at the battle on the wall.

The Xia army was clearly out of supplies. They used to pour boiling oil, but now there was none—only flesh and blood to hold the line.

Yet the barbarians couldn’t break through either. A veteran like Huangfu Yongxian had set up defenses with almost no flaws, tougher than a turtle to crack. If this dragged on a few more days, even his own side’s morale would crumble.

Many subordinates and tribes didn’t understand why he refused to personally charge in and take Huangfu Yongxian’s head.

But he knew he couldn’t.

It wasn’t because of the imagined threat of Xia Longyuan appearing to interfere—Tiemuer knew that wasn’t the case; Xia Longyuan was still in the capital and couldn’t teleport.

It was simply that some doors must not be opened. If a Heaven Roll expert could break into a battle formation and kill the commander today, then tomorrow Xia Longyuan would dare to ride across the grasslands, killing anyone in sight, turning the entire steppe into a sea of blood.

Even one Yue Hongling wreaking havoc behind the lines had proven hard to catch—what about Xia Longyuan?

At this level, everyone had to abide by certain unspoken rules.

Tiemuer actually admired the Maitreya Sect. When it came to internal strife, Xia Longyuan wouldn’t observe any rules with them—how dared they? Even the Wang family didn’t dare.

Yet Xia Longyuan hadn’t moved. Strange indeed.

Tiemuer’s gaze lingered more on Cui Yuanyong and Situ Xiao, a hint of regret in his eyes.

If the Central Plains still had Hidden Dragons like these, their fate was not yet exhausted.

Though there were few truly worthy of praise… still, there were some.

As long as they existed, the spirit hadn’t died.

But unfortunately, they were too few. The breach in the wall was a clear sign—they were on the verge of collapse.

Tiemuer observed for a long time, then raised his hand slightly. “Send in the Vulture tribe.”

Just then, a report came: “The War Lion tribe is approaching from the northwest, claiming to be reinforcements.”

Tiemuer paused, frowning slightly. “My envoy to the War Lion tribe hasn’t even returned yet, and they come on their own? How many troops?”

The soldier replied, “Estimated at seventy to eighty thousand.”

Seventy or eighty thousand troops, in terms of absolute strength, are far behind the Golden Horde, but at this moment, they represent an extremely deadly variable.

Not to mention seventy or eighty thousand; even ten or twenty thousand would be a headache, and seventy or eighty thousand could be fatal.

“Batu must have passed through Yellow Sands on his way here. Why did Ubalru send no word? He has allowed Batu to arrive so abruptly!”

No one could answer the Khan’s question.

Someone ventured cautiously: “If Batu bypassed Yellow Sands, General Ubalru would surely have sensed something amiss and should now be leading his men in pursuit from the rear…”

“Order the Vulture tribe to shift to the flank and form ranks to the northwest.” Temur rose abruptly: “Regardless of why Batu has come, and whether Ubalru will attack from the other side, we must not be careless. Master Bo…”

He turned to a shaman in the tent, his expression solemn: “This is a time of war with the southern barbarians. If there is internal strife, it will no longer be a mere tribal conflict. Will the temple intervene?”

The shaman rose and bowed: “Calm yourself, Great Khan. Where would Batu find the audacity to rebel? Most likely he has truly come to join the battle. Let me go meet Batu and ascertain his intentions.”