Chapter 407: Another Day on the Mortal Ranking, Awaiting Your Name

Chapter 407: One Day on the Human Roll, Your Name Awaits

Kuaiji, it was said, had been a super-prefecture in ancient times when it was first established, encompassing Suzhou and Hangzhou, and was the origin of the Three Wu lands.

Later, with administrative subdivisions, Suzhou and Hangzhou rose in prominence, and Kuaiji gradually came to refer specifically to the area around Mount Kuaiji. In the present world, it is known as Shaoxing, but in this world, it is still called Kuaiji.

When Tang Buqi recaptured Hangzhou and stationed his army there, he was merely a hundred li from Kuaiji, facing the last remnants of Maitreya’s resistance across that distance.

In truth, even if Maitreya’s forces were not yet an isolated city, they were close to it. The various southern powers had launched counterattacks, some even seizing the chance to expand their own territories. Now, with forces converging from all directions, Kuaiji had become almost an island, besieged from all sides.

Previously, no one dared to act so directly. Aside from Tang Buqi’s willingness to take the lead, others were reluctant to stick their necks out, because Maitreya could go all out and take the head of any who did—though under heavy protection, success was uncertain, and Maitreya might not be willing to risk his life for it. Still, people feared it. Why bother? If some reckless fool wanted to lead, let him.

Such was the deterrent power of a top-tier Earth Roll expert.

But ever since Maitreya’s defeat at Xiangyang, everyone knew he had suffered serious injuries. Their courage swelled, and within ten days, the landscape south of the Yangtze had changed.

Yet Tang Buqi, the “Alliance Leader,” remained idle in Hangzhou, launching no general offensive, as if Mount Kuaiji hid a thunderbolt that could annihilate hundreds of thousands of troops. He hesitated, shrinking back.

People’s minds were divided.

Some thought Tang Buqi was deliberately keeping the enemy alive to bolster his own importance. Others believed he was using the opportunity to turn his weapons inward, preparing to devour others.

The closest guess was that this “Nephew of the Lady” was waiting for his aunt to come and steady the ranks before daring to fight.

“Young Master Tang,” someone came to see Tang Buqi that night. “Maitreya is gravely wounded now. They say he hasn’t shown his face in a month. His men are all broken soldiers, morale is low, and there are no capable generals left… Kuaiji is in disarray. If we don’t seize this chance to wipe out this scourge, when will we?”

Tang Buqi, draped in a robe, sat in the commander’s tent, seemingly reading a book. At these words, he replied calmly, “They have no food either. Just surround them, and they’ll fall in ten days.”

“If we wait any longer, Maitreya will recover from his injuries. Even if we destroy his forces, he can still break out alone and flee, leaving endless trouble for the future.”

“My aunt should be here before then. It’s fine…”

The adviser choked on a bellyful of words, stamped his foot, and left, muttering, “A petty man not worth advising!”

To have this young master as the alliance leader, reaping all the fame, was truly a disgrace. This man had long forgotten why he himself had once been afraid to take the lead. Suddenly, he felt that the great deed of breaking Kuaiji and slaying Maitreya could be done by him instead.

The pattern of heroes vying for supremacy had already taken shape. The Tang family had once had a great opportunity… Since Tang Buqi was willingly giving it up, why not seize it now?

At dawn, Wu Weiyang, a general of the Demon-Suppression Bureau, rushed to report: “Young Master, after Prefect Zhu returned, he mustered his troops and launched a night raid on Kuaiji on his own…”

Tang Buqi put down his book and sighed. “Everyone thinks I’m a nephew relying on his aunt… Well, I am indeed a nephew relying on his aunt.”

Wu Weiyang: “…”

Tang Buqi said, “My aunt said Kuaiji cannot be taken by conventional means; we must wait for her to arrive. They don’t believe it. What can I do… The alliance is just an alliance after all. Everyone looks to my aunt’s face and makes me the leader, but I’m not their real superior. In terms of official rank, Prefect Zhu is my superior.”

Wu Weiyang sighed. “I know that too… But now, should we rescue him?”

Tang Buqi’s eyes turned dark. “No.”

Wu Weiyang’s expression shifted.

Tang Buqi said, “Everyone in the alliance wants to claim merit; their hearts are restless. Since someone wants to set an example, let them. It will show everyone why we must wait. Without a bloody lesson, every man will have his say, and no one will listen to our alliance orders.”

Wu Weiyang was silent for a long moment, then said quietly, “That’s true.”

Tang Buqi said, “On the other hand, it’s precisely this kind of person—the one most eager to stand out—who is best suited to take the lesson…”

Wu Weiyang’s eyes flickered.

Tang Buqi muttered to himself, “Otherwise, with such ambition… after we pacify Maitreya, the one we’ll have to pacify is him…”

Wu Weiyang: “…”

Tang Buqi broke into a bright smile. “Muster the troops and set out.”

Wu Weiyang was stunned. “Young Master, didn’t you say not to rescue?”

“We have to look like we’re rescuing… Don’t enter Kuaiji. Save as many as we can. Otherwise, morale will truly scatter.”

Wu Weiyang clasped his hands. “As you command.”

…

In mid-March, Zhu Huan, the Prefect of Luling, ignored the alliance’s orders and led over ten thousand elite troops in a night assault on Kuaiji.

From afar, he saw the city walls, where even the banners seemed crooked and the defenders looked slack. Zhu Huan laughed. “With defenses like these… the first merit for pacifying Maitreya—they don’t want it, so we’ll gladly take it. Listen, men: within half an hour, I want to be drinking inside the city!”

His troops surged in orderly formation toward the city gates, siege engines pushed forward.

Suddenly, the city gates swung open, and a force of about a thousand monk soldiers charged out.

“They dare to open the gates and fight?” Zhu Huan was startled. “Have they lost their minds?”

The vanguard soon clashed with the monk soldiers. To Zhu Huan’s surprise, they were nothing like the “broken and defeated” troops he had imagined. Their momentum was like an invincible steel army, hardened by a hundred battles. At the first contact, it was Zhu Huan’s own supposedly elite forces that crumbled.

“Something’s wrong!” his shocked adjutants exclaimed. “They really are impervious to blades!”

Zhu Huan saw it too. These monk soldiers were immune to swords and spears. When his men struck them, the weapons left not even a mark.

How could they fight this?

This was at least on the level of Situ Xiao. How many Situ Xiaos were there in the world? And here were a thousand of them?

Impossible! If Maitreya’s army had possessed this ability long ago, the south of the Yangtze would have fallen long ago!

“This can’t be! I’ll break their sorcery myself!” Zhu Huan, a Ninth Gate of the Mystic Barrier expert, spurred his horse forward and thrust his spear at the lead monk soldier.

With a deafening clang of metal, the spear pierced the monk’s heart.

“I told you they couldn’t really be invulnerable!” Zhu Huan roared, brandishing his spear. “They have a weak point—the heart! Don’t panic, steady—”

Before he could finish, his eyes widened.

The monk soldier he had just impaled did not fall. Instead, he gripped the spear shaft with both hands, his eyes fixed on Zhu Huan.

Those eyes had no whites—only a blazing golden light.

This was no human… or rather, no living being.

“Damn it… Retreat! Full retreat!” Zhu Huan viciously yanked out his spearhead, reined his horse, and turned back.

But how could they retreat under such circumstances?

In an instant, the thousand monk soldiers tore through Zhu Huan’s army. The myriad troops scattered, and the monk soldiers’ blades drove straight toward Zhu Huan.

One monk soldier leaped into the air, a gleaming golden ring-blade slashing at Zhu Huan’s throat. Zhu Huan fought it off with all his strength, only to find several more ring-blades chopping at him from all sides. Though he had many men, he was trapped in a terrifying encirclement, and his personal guards could offer him not the slightest help.

After all, striking these monks did them no harm!

Seeing his guards and adjutants lying dead and wounded around him, Zhu Huan’s heart ached with pain and regret.

Tang Shouzuo had said Kuaiji could not be taken by conventional means and that they must wait for her arrival… He had thought the Tang family just wanted the first credit, and that Tang Buqi, being a nephew, only listened to his aunt.

A great merit lay before him—if Heaven gave it and he did not take it, he would suffer the consequences.

And now?

Tang Wanzhuang had been right.

He had not even seen Maitreya’s face. A mere thousand monk soldiers had turned his army into a river of blood…

And now he himself was about to die…

“Clang!” With his spear, he desperately parried a circle of ring-blades, suppressed the blood surging to his throat, and fled, slumped over his saddle.

The cries of battle rang out on all sides. Golden light filled his vision. Zhu Huan charged left and right but could not break free.

He, Zhu Huan, was far stronger than ordinary soldiers. He could fight one, even ten—but how could he fight a hundred, a thousand? And these were creatures that could not be killed…

He hadn't fought long before his strength gave out.

Zhu Huan thrust his spear through a monk soldier's throat, but took a slash on his own back, staggered a few steps, and sighed deeply: "My fate is sealed..."

He realized that these monk soldiers were not inexhaustible; their power also waned, now much weaker than before... but unfortunately, he himself was crumbling faster.

Just then, a troop of cavalry galloped in, charging straight into the formation.

At the lead, Tang Buqi's sword aura rose, and a monk soldier's head fell; even the body crawled wildly on the ground, utterly unable to die.

Tang Buqi did not linger, raising his sword and shouting sternly: "Luling soldiers, come this way! I, Tang, will hold the rear!"

As if seeing a beacon, the chaotic Luling rout surged toward Tang Buqi's direction.

Tang Buqi leaped into the air, swept his sword in a circle to parry the monk soldiers besieging Zhu Huan, grabbed Zhu Huan by the collar, and hauled him back: "Go!"

Both landed on Tang Buqi's horse; he swung his sword again, and the monk soldiers, now much weakened, were all knocked back by that strike. The warhorse neighed long and galloped away.

But when he looked down, Zhu Huan had already fallen silent.

A golden light flashed across the sky.

It was not a battle record—not a single word of that, not even the prefect who died beneath the city walls was deemed worthy of mention in the eyes of the Chronicle of Chaos.

What it recorded was:

"In mid-March, Tang Buqi turned twenty-five, no longer listed on the Hidden Dragon Roll, automatically removed."

"One day, the Human Roll awaits your name."

These eight words were not a mark of favor from the Chronicle of Chaos; every person who aged off the Hidden Dragon Roll received this same expectation.

But to be removed by age meant that one's potential was limited. From ancient times, those who achieved late success and made it onto the Human Roll were not unheard of, but very rare, and even then, they peaked at the Human Roll; there seemed to be no precedent for reaching the Earth Roll.

Yet the Mile inside the city and the routed soldiers outside all felt that this man might have a chance.