BEGW C93

Chapter 93

The white clouds hung unbearably heavy, as though they might crash down to the earth at any moment.

Instinctively, Jiang Yuxun tried to move his hand away from that dangerous place. Yet completely trapped between Ying Changchuan’s embrace and the grassy knoll beneath him, he could barely move at all.

The Son of Heaven lowered his gaze, staring deeply at him.

At some point, his palm had landed at Jiang Yuxun’s waist… and then slowly slid upward along that narrow line.

With almost just one hand, Ying Changchuan completely enclosed Jiang Yuxun’s waist.

The tingling sensation turned into a weak electric current, spreading outward from that spot through his entire body. In barely a moment, it drained all strength from his limbs.

At this instant, it seemed that all control over Jiang Yuxun’s body had been seized by Ying Changchuan.

Ying Changchuan gazed at the person beneath him without restraint.

Then suddenly, he bent down and kissed him hard.

Soft grass brushed across Jiang Yuxun’s cheek. The white wildflowers scattered near his hand had, at some point, been crushed into soft, fragrant paste.

He wanted to evade—but there was nowhere to retreat. All he could do was devote every ounce of focus to responding to the person beside him.

Their breathing tangled into chaos.

At some point, their bodies pressed tightly together.

Jiang Yuxun’s back was already against the grass, with nowhere left to retreat.

Through the thin spring robe, he could clearly feel the unmistakable reaction of the person opposite him at this very moment…

A loud buzz exploded in Jiang Yuxun’s ears.

His heart pounded violently. He even suspected that Ying Changchuan could hear his drum-like heartbeat.

He didn’t dare meet Ying Changchuan’s gaze, his eyes drifting instinctively to the surroundings.

The Dingwumu Vast Grasslands stretched endlessly. At noon, there wasn’t a single bird in the sky.

Wild wind swept across his face without restraint, while the stream nearby murmured softly.

Jiang Yuxun’s face flushed bright red.

Heaven as quilt, earth as bed—this was truly far too much.

Fear born of instinct made him struggle and raise his hand, wanting to push the man in front of him away.

But in the motion, his fingers brushed against the other’s body at just the wrong angle, before finally landing on the grass beside him.

His fingertips instantly burned.

In his muddled state, the breathing by his ear grew heavier.

Ying Changchuan said nothing. Instead, he tightly embraced the person fallen on the grass—

One hand braced at Jiang Yuxun’s waist.

Jiang Yuxun held his breath. The streamside once again fell into silence.

He couldn’t see Ying Changchuan’s expression. Only after a long moment did he hear him murmur by his ear:

“These days you’ll need to ride horses. This account—I’ll keep it on record for now, my dear minister.”

The emperor’s voice, suppressed, grew even hoarser. Warmth traveled from his palm to Jiang Yuxun’s side.

Ying Changchuan said nothing explicitly—yet it felt as though he had said everything. Jiang Yuxun reflexively curled his fingers.

Gripping tightly the green grass beneath him, along with the soft flower petals.

Night fell. Zhenbei Army camp.

Jiang Yuxun sat at the highest seat in the military tent, his expression unusually grave.

“…Still no news from Young Master Xing today, Lord Qi?” he asked, gripping the memorial in his hand so tightly that his knuckles turned pale.

Qi Pingsha, commander of the Xuanjin Inspectors, immediately stepped forward and saluted.

“In reply to Lord Jiang—there is still no information on our end.”

His expression was equally tense. After speaking, he clenched his teeth hard.

The tent fell into silence.

Unlike the daytime, the Dingwumu Grasslands were bitterly cold at night.

A brazier burned inside the tent. In the quiet, all that could be heard was the faint crackling of charcoal.

Every Xuanjin Inspector wore a solemn expression, cold sweat forming in their palms.

According to the original plan, Xing Zhi should have withdrawn from the territory of the Two Kings at top speed and rendezvoused in the southeast.

Yet days had passed—Xing Zhi had neither appeared nor sent word.

—Even the messenger eagle trained by the Xuanjin Inspectors had yet to return.

One inspector spoke up, trying to ease the tension:

“King Qiuqi is a simple-minded man. Right now he’s busy fleeing for his life—there’s no way he could have captured Young Master Xing. As for the other two Zherou kings… they haven’t yet fought Great Zhou. They couldn’t possibly realize we already know their terrain, nor would they suspect Young Master Xing—let alone make him vanish.”

The reasoning was sound.

After those words, the tense atmosphere finally eased a little.

Only when pain flared in Jiang Yuxun’s fingers—pressed hard against the pen shaft—did he snap back to awareness and set it down.

He lowered his head slowly and softly spoke a name:

“…Duenli.”

His heart sank heavily.

“What?” Qi Pingsha hadn’t heard clearly and looked up to ask.

Jiang Yuxun held his breath.

“King Qiuqi wouldn’t realize Young Master Xing’s role in this battle—but his strategist, Duenli, would.”

The name meant nothing to most present.

Even the Dingbei Grand General might struggle to match the name to a face right away.

But to Jiang Yuxun—a modern man—the name was painfully familiar.

—Duenli excelled at winning battles fought with favorable momentum.

In the original history, after the Yi River Uprising, Great Zhou fell into chaos.

The Zherou seized the opportunity to march south, attacking Zhaodu and entangling Zhou forces for seven years.

Across those seven years, they both lost and won.

Duenli played no small role—and thus “earned his place in history.”

He possessed a certain cunning and meticulous mind, but most importantly, he understood Great Zhou extremely well.

A reckless man like King Qiuqi might fail to notice Xing Zhi’s anomaly.

But Duenli wouldn’t…

After a moment of silence, Qi Pingsha finally connected the name to the man.

—As Qiuqi’s strategist, Duenli had his own trusted followers. He indeed had the ability to abduct Xing Zhi.

Still, Qi Pingsha frowned.

“But what would Duenli gain by doing this…?”

Jiang Yuxun slowly loosened his clenched hand.

“There’s no rush,” he said softly. “Before long, Duenli will come here himself—with Young Master Xing. Until then, he won’t harm him.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but each word carried a steady, reassuring force.

The Xuanjin Inspectors visibly relaxed.

As night deepened, they saluted Jiang Yuxun once more and quietly withdrew.

Jiang Yuxun rose and stood by the tent window, gazing into the distance.

Moonlight dyed the grasslands a deep blue.

Occasionally birds circled the sky, raptors sweeping past.

But still—no sign of the messenger eagle.

Two days later, Zhenbei Army camp.

A lone eagle circled above the tents several times before slowly descending onto the towering wooden perch outside the camp.

The Xuanjin Inspectors all looked up.

“…Is that Young Master Xing’s eagle?” someone asked instinctively.

Another squinted carefully.

“Gray cloth tied to the leg, a few white feathers on the right wing—yes, that’s the one!”

The stifling atmosphere that had hung over the camp for days finally lifted.

Recognizing it, inspectors immediately cut fresh meat, coaxing the eagle down.

Others rushed to the tent at once to inform Jiang Yuxun of the good news.

After the time it took to brew a cup of tea, the eagle landed steadily on an inspector’s arm, lowering its head to eat.

Jiang Yuxun quickly exited the tent and joined them.

Wearing gloves, the inspector untied the thin bamboo tube from the eagle’s left leg and carefully poured out the paper inside.

Jiang Yuxun leaned in, holding his breath.

…Xing Zhi had been out of contact for far too long. Even seeing the eagle, everyone’s hearts remained suspended.

The inspector holding the paper didn’t open it right away, silently offering a prayer.

After a few seconds, he inhaled deeply and slowly unfolded the letter.

—The handwriting was unfamiliar.

Almost the moment he read it, Qi Pingsha turned toward Jiang Yuxun.

Clenching his fist, his voice hoarse, he said,

“Lord Jiang—it really is Duenli.”

Duenli had left Great Zhou decades ago and hadn’t written in years.

His handwriting was stiff and clumsy, riddled with errors.

But anyone could understand the message clearly:

Jiang Yuxun had been right—Xing Zhi had indeed been abducted by Duenli.

Thick fog blanketed the Dingwumu Vast Grasslands.

The sun hadn’t yet set, yet the surrounding scenery was already hidden behind dense mist.

Without compasses in hand, Jiang Yuxun’s group would likely have lost their way.

The horses moved forward slowly.

Jiang Yuxun gripped the reins tightly and lowered his voice to Ying Changchuan beside him:

“The relationship between the three Zherou kings may be lukewarm, but no matter what, the other two have no reason to shelter a deserter like Duenli. If they caught him, they might even convict him and execute him. Duenli’s goal is obvious—he intends to trade Young Master Xing’s life for his own.”

The Son of Heaven chuckled softly.

“And how does he plan to trade?”

“Duenli has taken Young Master Xing hostage. He wants Great Zhou to let him pass through the border to Haifeng State,” Jiang Yuxun replied, lips pressed together.

Great Zhou bordered four major powers: Zherou, Kehan, Qiaoluo, and Haifeng.

Duenli’s actions amounted to betraying Zherou. He couldn’t remain there, nor flee to Qiaoluo, which outwardly aligned with Zherou.

Kehan’s climate was harsh and it was allied with Zhou—leaving Haifeng as his best option.

Ying Changchuan slowly turned the black jade ring on his finger and nodded, then asked instead,

“In your view, should Great Zhou agree to Duenli’s ‘transaction’?”

Almost the instant he finished speaking, Jiang Yuxun shook his head without hesitation.

“Absolutely not! Duenli not only betrayed Zherou—he defected from Great Zhou decades ago and advised King Qiuqi in his southward raids. Over the years, countless Zhou civilians have died directly or indirectly at his hands.”

Disgust filled his expression.

The northern border of Great Zhou had never been clearly defined. Many civilians had gone north to Zherou seeking livelihoods in earlier dynasties.

But among them, Duenli was the only one who became a ‘strategist.’

Lowering his voice, Jiang Yuxun said,

“Letting him live even one more breath would be an injustice to the countless Zhou citizens who died in vain.”

Ying Changchuan smiled lightly.

“And yet—you wouldn’t stand by and watch Young Master Xing die.”

Within the fog, Jiang Yuxun suddenly turned and smiled.

His dark eyes shone brilliantly.

Looking straight at the emperor, he said plainly,

“Your Majesty came with me today to the place Duenli named in his letter—for the sake of rescuing Young Master Xing and killing Duenli, didn’t you?”

Duenli had never asked to see the emperor—only Jiang Yuxun.

Jiang Yuxun didn’t believe Ying Changchuan would abandon military affairs just to accompany him for nothing.

Most importantly—

There was never a choice to be made.

They had to accomplish both.

Ying Changchuan laughed, said nothing more, and nudged his horse forward.

The weather that day was terrible.

As night fell, cold blue fog engulfed everything—visibility reduced to nothing.

Though once a Central Plains man, Duenli had lived on the grasslands for half his life. Keenly observant, he had predicted this heavy fog days in advance.

As a strategist, he had his own personal guards.

Like all Zherou warriors, they excelled in mounted archery and had long memorized the terrain.

Duenli’s calculations were precise:

If the “transaction” succeeded, he would use Xing Zhi as leverage to pass freely into Haifeng—perhaps even flee farther.

If it failed, he and his men could vanish into the fog at top speed.

Having offended both Zherou and Great Zhou, Duenli knew—if he didn’t leave soon, he wouldn’t survive the spring.

He was already a man with nothing left to lose.

…There was almost no room for clever maneuvering in such a situation.

Jiang Yuxun glanced back at the accompanying Xuanjin Inspectors, unease churning in his chest.

Though formidable, they might not outperform the Zherou warriors under these conditions.

He didn’t know whether Xing Zhi could be rescued safely tonight.

The fog weighed heavily on his heart.

Wild grass swallowed most hoofbeats; silence reigned.

When Jiang Yuxun came back to himself, Ying Changchuan—who had been riding ahead—had stopped.

The stream curved sharply here.

They had arrived at the location Duenli named.

Though the fog blocked sight, Duenli’s men could judge numbers by sound alone.

After confirming that Jiang Yuxun had indeed brought only around ten men, as promised, they finally emerged from the mist.

Through the fog, Jiang Yuxun vaguely saw several unfamiliar figures about a hundred meters ahead.

He exchanged a glance with Ying Changchuan—

These must be Duenli’s people.

Before he could speak, a familiar voice shattered the silence.

“—Lord Jiang, don’t worry about me! Leave quickly!”

Xing Zhi’s voice rang out. He spat viciously at the ground and shouted,

“You must not let that scum Duenli escape!”

Hatred saturated his words.

Once a Zhaodu dandy, Xing Zhi had never understood the northern history—

Until he stepped onto this land himself.

Now he knew all too well the atrocities Duenli had committed over the past twenty years.

Like all the people of Zefang Commandery, he couldn’t tolerate this man continuing to live.

The Zherou holding him didn’t understand his words, but kicked his knee brutally.

With a dull thump, Xing Zhi collapsed to the ground.

His face twisted in pain.

Yet instead of begging, he inhaled sharply and shouted even louder:

“Leaving aside how King Qiuqi’s obsession with Zefang must have been fueled by Duenli—just his desertion alone proves he’s nothing but an ungrateful white-eyed wolf! Letting him go would be like releasing a tiger back into the mountains—”

The Zherou didn’t understand, but Duenli did.

From atop his horse, Duenli raised his arm and lashed Xing Zhi with a whip.

“Today you’re nothing but a prisoner! Who gave you the right to speak?!”

The whip tore through Xing Zhi’s thin spring robe, flesh splitting open.

Who would have thought that a former dandy like Xing Zhi would grit his teeth and suppress his scream?

Through the fog, Jiang Yuxun saw the red-clad figure shudder violently, nearly collapsing—before forcibly straightening again.

Jiang Yuxun clenched his fists, memories flashing—

Their first meeting in the town outside Xianyou Palace. Xing Zhi in red, riding a jujube-colored horse, wine flask in hand, drunk and carefree.

…Unknowingly, Xing Zhi had already changed.

He feared death—but he feared even more allowing someone like Duenli to live because of him.

Night deepened.

Duenli grew impatient.

“Lord Jiang, my letter was perfectly clear. Let me go, and I’ll take Xing Zhi to Haifeng. Once there, I’ll release him immediately! Young Master Xing has served Great Zhou—don’t hesitate any longer.”

Years away from the Central Plains left his speech tinged with a heavy Zherou accent.

But the killing intent behind his words was unmistakable.

At that moment, Duenli’s followers drew their blades.

Cold light pierced the fog and fell before Jiang Yuxun.

A clear threat—

Refuse, and Xing Zhi would die on the spot.

“Pah!” Xing Zhi spat, lifting his head with effort.

Before Jiang Yuxun could respond, Xing Zhi coughed violently and laughed.

“Don’t worry about me! If I die today, it’ll be a name in history! Lord Jiang—remember my name! Tell my parents what happened today. Tell them I, Xing Zhi, was no coward… then I’ll have no regrets!”

As the words fell, Duenli whipped him again—striking the same wound.

Xing Zhi finally cried out.

Suddenly, he twisted toward Duenli’s follower, eyes blazing.

A man who had never trained in martial arts, Xing Zhi summoned all his strength and lunged toward a nearby blade—

—Better a clean death than life as a hostage.

He had eaten well, drunk well. His life had not been wasted.

The night grew darker.

Before Jiang Yuxun’s eyes lay only pitch black.

Yet from the Zherou’s cries, he knew exactly what Xing Zhi was trying to do.

“Young Master Xing!” Jiang Yuxun shouted, instinctively spurring his horse forward and preparing to order an attack.

But before he could raise his hand—

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Qi Pingsha step forward and place a longbow into Ying Changchuan’s hands.

…A bow?

Jiang Yuxun frowned.

Logic told him—setting aside the darkness, the dense fog alone made aiming nearly impossible.

The arrowhead’s cold gleam illuminated Ying Changchuan’s ash-gray eyes.

Within the fog, he shed all pretense. Killing intent was laid bare.

Ying Changchuan intended to kill Duenli—without leaving him a single chance to breathe.

Jiang Yuxun instinctively wanted to ask why he was using a bow—

Then a memory struck him.

Years ago, on the road to Shuolin Commandery, he had once doubted Ying Changchuan’s archery.

Claimed he didn’t believe Ying Changchuan could shoot and take a man’s head at midnight…

Only to be brutally proven wrong by Zhuang Yue.

Wait—

Was Ying Changchuan planning to recreate that moment today?

Everything happened in an instant.

Through the thick fog, Jiang Yuxun vaguely saw Ying Changchuan slowly close his eyes.

Dark clouds drifted over the moon, plunging the grasslands into deeper darkness.

Jiang Yuxun held his breath.

All he could hear was the faint sound of a powerful bow being drawn.

—Though vision was blocked, Ying Changchuan’s exceptional hearing allowed him to locate Duenli by sound alone.

Sure enough—

In the next instant, silver light tore through the blue fog.

Accompanied by a familiar whistling crack, the arrow surged forward—

And struck Duenli squarely.

Another arrow followed immediately—shooting toward the man opposite Xing Zhi!

“Ah—!”

Screams echoed again and again across the open plains.

The arrow buried itself deep in Duenli’s abdomen.

Through the fog, he didn’t even have time to process what had happened.

Eyes wide, he looked down at his stomach, hands trembling.

Blood soaked his clothes. He instinctively tried to pull the arrow free—but pain and blood loss stopped him.

…No. He absolutely couldn’t pull it out.

The shot was fast and ruthless.

Not only Duenli and his followers, but even the Xuanjin Inspectors behind the emperor hadn’t fully registered what had just occurred.

Unlike them—

The instant the screams rang out, Jiang Yuxun raised his hand and shouted:

“Kill—!”

His response was lightning-fast, seamlessly following Ying Changchuan’s strike.

“Yes, Lord Jiang!”

Wracked by pain, Duenli tumbled from his horse.

His followers were utterly disoriented.

With no orders, the Zherou soldiers scattered like headless flies in the fog—colliding with one another, falling from their mounts in disarray.

The Xuanjin Inspectors charged forward.

Within the fog, only clashing steel and cries of pain remained.

Just as Jiang Yuxun was about to move forward to find Xing Zhi, Ying Changchuan’s voice cut through the mist.

The Son of Heaven slowly lowered his bow and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well? Little Lord Jiang—do you believe me now, that I can shoot and take a man’s head at midnight?”

Jiang Yuxun: “…!”

So it wasn’t just him who remembered that awkward old incident—

Ying Changchuan had been holding onto it for years, never letting it go?

The Son of Heaven of Great Zhou…

Could truly be both childish and petty at times. 😑