Chapter 771: Three Armies Go Beyond the Frontier

Chapter 771: The Three Armies March Beyond the Frontier

Tang Wanzhuang still paid the price for her own reckless provocation... because she truly lacked the Fire of the Vermilion Bird, and in this regard, she was not even on the same level.

The Vermilion Bird had not expected that, just after savoring the triumph of pinning down her stubborn disciple’s hands the night before, she would herself be pinned down and thoroughly overwhelmed by the same tactic. It was infuriating.

She endured the assault in silence, and when Zhao Changhe finally let her go and turned to Tang Wanzhuang, the Vermilion Bird leaned back to rest for a moment, watching Tang Wanzhuang’s shy, yielding demeanor. The demonic fire in her eyes blazed.

Then she leaned over and pressed her lips to Tang Wanzhuang’s.

Tang Wanzhuang’s eyes widened; she was utterly stunned.

“Little beauty...” The Vermilion Bird’s eyes shimmered with an eerie light, her fingers tracing down Tang Wanzhuang’s cheek, gliding lightly over her jade-like body. “Do you know? I’ve wanted to do this to you for a long time—to see you disheveled and undone. Since you’re asking for it...”

As she spoke, her crimson lips moved downward, kissing Tang Wanzhuang’s delicate neck.

Tang Wanzhuang’s entire body tensed. Poor lady—she had only ever imagined this sort of thing as a back-and-forth, never considering that they might play tricks on each other, let alone that the man would find it even more amusing.

Caught in a pincer attack from above and below, she was utterly routed, a complete collapse.

—Fight if you will, and in the end, Tang Wanzhuang was declared the loser. But as the one who had dragged the other into the fray, Tang Wanzhuang was the victor.

Who won and who lost was hard to say; perhaps it would take a long time to determine—like who would bear a child first?

That was a distant matter...

No one knew how long the battle lasted.

The morning court session was very early, ending not too late. When the battle began, it was still morning; now the sun had passed its zenith, deep into the afternoon.

Time was wasted on such trivial matters for hours. The three sages lay stiffly on their backs, wrapped in thin blankets, staring at the ceiling. An onlooker might think they were all in reflection.

In truth, both the Chancellor and the General had no strength left... and the effects of this dual cultivation were more powerful than any before.

Zhao Changhe had originally thought that, in terms of the complementarity of their techniques, Tang Wanzhuang and Huangfu Qing were not a perfect match of water and fire—that role belonged to San Niang. But in practice, he found it was still clearly there.

Because the Tang family’s ancestor had comprehended martial arts through the observation of flowing water; his study of water even surpassed that of light. All of the Tang family’s martial arts bore the endless, meandering changes of a small bridge over a stream, as well as the serene and gentle imagery of Taihu Lake in Gusu. If there was a difference from San Niang, it was the contrast between a gentle stream and a raging sea. San Niang lacked Tang Wanzhuang’s delicacy and tenderness. Instead, the pairing of Tang Wanzhuang and the Vermilion Bird better matched the conventional concept of water and fire clashing.

Thus, this wave of dual cultivation caused the cultivation of all three to suddenly rise by a small margin, and it slightly mended the flaws in the two women’s techniques. The benefits were so great that no one had anticipated them. Even long after it was over, they were still lost in reflection and savoring, too lazy to quarrel.

After a long while, Zhao Changhe finally ventured, “Get up and eat?”

Huangfu Qing said lazily, “Too full of anger to eat.”

Whether it was anger or something else that filled her, Tang Wanzhuang cast a sidelong glance. If we’re talking about anger, I’m the one who should be angrier—being kissed by you was disgusting.

Huangfu Qing glanced back at her and said languidly, “Some people look delicious, but when you taste them, they’re just so-so. Not as satisfying as San Niang’s plump softness, nor as charming as Chichi’s youthful allure.”

Tang Wanzhuang was almost amused into anger: “That’s Xuanwu and Her Majesty, not you. What are you so proud of?”

Huangfu Qing hummed and fell silent. She had wanted to say that only a blind man would be seduced by her, but on second thought, she couldn’t—because her own figure was almost identical to Tang Wanzhuang’s. Insulting her would be insulting herself. Her own advantage lay in the elasticity and athleticism of her waist and legs, while the other’s were more tender and smooth. Who knew which a man preferred? But to actually compare such things would be too degrading, so she decided to shut up.

Sure enough, Tang Wanzhuang didn’t let her off, sneering, “I never thought the Vermilion Bird Venerable would stoop to comparing who feels better. So all your life’s triumphs have just been haggling over your own worth?”

Fortunately, Huangfu Qing had anticipated this retort and said leisurely, “Who was it that said we’d fight in bed? If we’re going to fight, let’s fight thoroughly. You started it, so don’t complain when others join in.”

Just as the two were about to start trading barbs, both of their buns were pinched at the same time.

They both flinched, turning their heads to glare at the man between them.

Zhao Changhe sighed: “This might be our last day of madness in the capital...”

The two women paused, and then they heard Baoqin’s voice from outside the door: “Miss, the Ministry of War sent word that the last batch of military supplies from Langya has arrived at the depot. Also, a few foreigners have come, claiming to be sent by the Prince of Zhao from Dali.”

Both women narrowed their eyes, realizing that Zhao Changhe had never stopped his practice of overlooking the surroundings. He couldn’t see very far without using the earth or sky, but he could already monitor the entire capital’s movements without issue.

Probably, while they were arguing, he had been staring fixedly at a rider from Langya galloping into the capital, and at several people from the southwest flying in with goshawks, his heart filled with indescribable emotion.

The letter to Dali had only just been sent, so they hadn’t come in response to it. Rather, a few days ago, when he couldn’t find Sisi, he had asked the Ling tribe’s maids to relay the message. It had already been passed along, and Sisi had long since ordered the Ling tribe’s beast-tamers to head to the capital—no need to wait any longer.

When all military supplies were ready, it meant the day of the northern expedition had arrived.

This was Zhao Changhe’s last bout of madness in the capital.

...

In fact, originally, the one most eager for the northern expedition was Zhao Changhe himself. He knew better than anyone that they couldn’t wait for the Eternal Heavenly God to recover his peak strength. That would not only bring a powerful enemy at the second level of the Imperial Realm but also quickly unite the internal divisions among the Hu, making every aspect much harder to crack.

To put it bluntly, if the fully restored Hu God descended everywhere to slaughter, the Han Empire could collapse within days. In the struggle between human races, the Blind One wouldn’t help—she saw no difference between Hu and Han. If she had any bias, it might be toward him, Zhao Changhe... Hmm, was that a bit too presumptuous?

Back on New Year’s Eve, when he first arrived in the capital, what Zhao Changhe said to Tang Wanzhuang was, “Aren’t we supposed to discuss military affairs when we return?”

The truth was, he had wanted to set out on the expedition that very day.

But military affairs aren’t like a Jianghu wanderer grabbing a blade and walking out the door. Mortal wars couldn’t keep up with his pace; he had to wait for everything to be ready, suppressing his anxiety and settling down to celebrate the New Year first.

In fact, the Hu probably didn’t want to delay either. If they could have marched south two months earlier, it would have been best—the Han were at their weakest then, lacking soldiers, money, and grain, even short of officials, on the verge of collapse in a single battle. Unfortunately, the Hu had their own troubles at the time: the Eternal Heavenly God and Bo’e were both severely wounded, the Batu tribe was still in the southern desert, the northern frontier was snowed in and frozen solid. Internal and external factors made war impossible, so they could only send light cavalry through Guanlong, hoping for a decisive victory—but that was thwarted.

By the time Batu was dealt with, Bo’e and the Eternal Heavenly God had recovered to some extent. Looking south, they saw that the Han were also recovering at an astonishing rate. Where there had once been only Huangfu Shaozong’s ten thousand elite troops, now there were over a hundred thousand battle-ready soldiers... Although the soldiers, money, and grain were all gathered from across the realm, leaving the interior hollow, it was a glimpse of the future: if the Han were given a few more years, their formidable military might would make Temur’s heart tremble.

Moreover, given Zhao Changhe’s freakish rate of advancement, if they waited a few more months, could the Eternal Heavenly God still suppress him and his women? No one could guarantee it.

Temur would not give the Han time to recover; he too wanted a decisive battle.

This was a great battle both sides desired.

On the twenty-second day of the first month, the Han Empress Xia Chichi reviewed the troops on the drill ground.

“I know there are voices in the court and among the people, saying that I and the Prince of Zhao are exhausting the nation’s resources for war, refusing to let the people rest. They say that even Emperor Wu of Han, in his poverty, never insisted on a northern expedition. They say we should recuperate for a few more years—that’s the sensible course. They call this a reckless Yuanjia campaign, saying the Hu would prefer us to be so hasty in looking north.”

“Indeed, these are prudent words, and they have their reasons... But times have changed. The old understandings no longer apply in this era.”

“If you haven’t felt it directly, then the Chaos Ranking just twenty days ago was Heaven’s warning. Now, with gods and demons running amok, battles are fought across ten thousand li with divine descents—no longer like the past. The Prince of Zhao can descend as a god and slay those on the Earth Ranking. But if the Hu God comes south, or the Nine Nethers looks east, will your heads still be on your shoulders while you sleep?”

“Do you expect the Prince of Zhao to sit in the capital like the late emperor, guarding you? Or do you pray to the gods and buddhas, hoping for their protection? What of the lands and people far beyond the capital—who will protect them?”

“No god or buddha will protect you. Since the Night Emperor, the Sacred Sect has taken mortal form, leading the world, so that we may protect ourselves. Protecting our rivers and mountains is our duty—not that of any god or buddha! If you speak of gods and buddhas, the Night Emperor and the Four Symbols are here—we are the gods and buddhas!”

“We are weak now, but the Hu God is wounded, the Divine Axe is lost, and the Temple and the Golden Tent are at odds—are they not also in a time of weakness?”

“The Prince of Zhao fought alone, pacified Bashu, threw Guanzhong into chaos, drove away Bōxún and slew the Dao Lord, securing the lands west of Hangu Pass with no worries behind.”

“What remains is not for us to do?”

“We must seize this heavenly opportunity, rouse the courage of the realm, send forth the three armies with axes and halberds, trample the Sacred Mountain, fill the Gobi Sea, drag the Hu God down from the Eternal Heaven, and hang the Khan’s head outside the city gates. From then on, the rivers and mountains shall stand eternal, secured in this one battle!”

“Now, I appoint the Vermilion Bird Venerable of the Sacred Sect as commander of the three armies, leading a million troops straight into the Hu court. This battle must be won! I will prepare a grand victory feast in the capital, awaiting your triumphant return!”

“Victory! Victory! Victory!” The shouts of over a hundred thousand soldiers shook heaven and earth.

Zhao Changhe and Huangfu Qing, both in full military attire, stood on either side of Xia Chichi, their expressions strange as they listened to her speech. They were torn between mockery and astonishment.

Because neither of them could have given such a speech... and it was actually quite stirring—even their blood was boiling. As for the soldiers, every single one had battle in their eyes.

So it seemed that some positions required a certain talent...

The three armies began to march, banners unfurling, heading north.

Xia Chichi stood before Zhao Changhe, looking into his eyes for a long time before speaking softly: “When I say victory, everyone hopes for victory. But we all know that on the battlefield, swords and arrows have no eyes. How many soldiers will be buried in foreign lands? Even you and my master...”

She paused, took a deep breath, and continued: “Even if we lose, as long as you live, we have the strength to hold our ground. The situation won’t be too dire. Don’t let your blood rush and throw your life away fighting to the death—not even if it’s a mutual destruction...”

At the end, she emphasized: “I forbid it!”

Zhao Changhe gently embraced her in front of everyone, kissing her forehead. “Your husband is tough to kill. It won’t be that easy. Just wait—Temur’s head will soon be presented before your tent.”

“I don’t need anyone’s head before my tent. Only you.”

Huangfu Qing stood to the side, leaning on her spear in annoyance. What about me? I’m both master and stepmother—couldn’t you at least show a little concern? I’m the commander, after all...

......

This was Zhao Changhe's first time formally following the army on an expedition.

Yet however formal this campaign might be called, many seasoned generals found it deeply unfamiliar.

It was perhaps the only campaign any of them had ever seen where an army of over a hundred thousand marched without conscripting civilian laborers for logistics; on the surface, it looked like a band of light cavalry living off the land and foraging in enemy territory.

They were merely unaccustomed, but the enemy would likely make a fatal miscalculation.

Both the timing of the army's full equipment and the speed of its march completely defied the norms of previous years. At this moment, the Golden Horde was in chaos, with Timur frantically summoning his tribes, never imagining that the Han army had already crossed the mountains and seas, let alone that in just a few days it had reached the heart of the Southern Desert, the former domain of the Batu tribe.

After driving out the Batu tribe, the Southern Desert clans that had once relied on Batu and then switched allegiance to Timur suddenly, without any preparation, came face to face with the Han vanguard—a band of blade-wielders, each with bloodshot eyes and murderous intent.

Xue Canghai and his Blood God Cult army.

The brutality of that battle bordered on inhumane, but surely Batu, now eating dust in the northwestern desert and Gobi, would be delighted.

The most inhumane part was that not a single one of those clans escaped to report back; Timur did not even know that entire tribes had been wiped out... The vast desert and steppe stretched endlessly, and Zhao Changhe, now free from the underground sky, could not see where the Golden Horde's tent was; Timur likewise could not sense such a distance. Yet what chilled him was that, driven by instinctive unease, he sent out a vulture to scout the situation—only to find the vulture gone.

That vulture had been hidden high in the sky a thousand li away; had Zhao Changhe's spiritual perception reached such a level that he would not even let a bird pass?

Timur sat in his tent in silence for a long time, then slowly asked his attendants, "How goes the situation at Yanmen Pass?"

"Huangfu Yongxian has also led his troops out of Yanmen—this is a two-pronged northern expedition."

"He dares to leave Yanmen... What gives him the confidence? Does he truly believe that northern Jin has been pacified with no lingering threats?" Timur's eyes showed a hint of confusion, yet also delight: "Send orders to all tribes to act according to the plan."

"Yes."

"Also, tell Chang'an: if they still do not move at a time like this, then when Zhao Changhe turns his attention westward again, I will take his daughter and make her my chamber pot!"

"They might not dare to act after all..."

"Why?"

"Three days ago, Shi Jian, an elder of the Divine Phoenix Sect, led his men out of the mountains and advanced into Hanzhong."

"Li Shentong..." Timur pondered for a moment. "Then tell the Netherworld: the chaos she desires—is this not the moment?"