BEGW C97

Chapter 97

The main force formed by the Fulin Army and the Zhenbei Army rode northwest at top speed.

Soldiers from the southern prefectures, meanwhile, followed the Chen River northward toward the grasslands.

On the other end of Dingwumu Vast Grasslands, the three Zherou divisions were gathering—hundreds of thousands of troops advancing southward with the raging flames.

This was a battle without precedent.

The newly risen red sun lit the southeastern sky, facing the inferno in the north from afar, dyeing the entire grassland the color of blood.

In Jiang Yuxun’s ears were nothing but the shrill cries and agonized wails of livestock trapped in the fire.

The thunder of hooves faded farther and farther away; in mere moments, the Zhenbei Army had completely vanished beyond the horizon.

The encampment fell quiet once more—

but it was only the calm before the storm.

…

Wearing black soft armor, Jiang Yuxun cast a long look toward the distance, then turned back toward the tents.

Every soldier remaining at the Zhenbei camp carried a task of his own.

They jogged past Jiang Yuxun in the smoke, brushing shoulders with him as they hurried on.

Burning grass sent up thick smoke, and the fierce wind roared in his ears.

Just before entering the command tent, Jiang Yuxun lifted his head to look at the gray clouds on the horizon.

—The Yihe unrest never erupted. Three consecutive years of bumper harvests had left Great Zhou abundantly supplied.

Haifeng rice and the wheat seeds introduced from Qiaoluo yielded not only more grain, but far higher calories than the staple crops of the past.

They had fed tens of millions of people within Great Zhou—fattening cattle, sheep, and warhorses alike.

Great Zhou’s soldiers were now stronger and more solidly built than ever before. No longer threatened by hunger, their eyes were clear, their minds sharp.

Years of training, coupled with the birth of new-style firearms, had freed them from the fear they once held toward the Zherou entrenched in the north.

The first batch of warhorses imported from Kehan were now in their prime.

A century-old blood feud still burned fresh, and the youths who had grown up at the end of the previous dynasty—enduring relentless Zherou raids and suffering—had now reached adulthood.

This battle had come three years earlier than Jiang Yuxun had expected.

Yet not a single person in Great Zhou feared it.

Sunlight pierced the felt curtain, illuminating the map in Jiang Yuxun’s hands.

The map, personally drawn by Ying Changchuan, clearly marked the course of every stream across Dingwumu Vast Grasslands.

In addition, the newly constructed firebreaks were also annotated.

Under Jiang Yuxun’s design, the herders had dug firebreak trenches to the northwest and due north of Dingwumu.

Later, pressed for time, they had even used controlled burning to create a continuous firebreak barrier.

And now—

this very firebreak was finally being put to use.

Compass in hand, Jiang Yuxun carefully checked the bearings, then let out a long breath.

He was certain now: the firebreak had been placed correctly.

It lay precisely in the path the wildfire was taking today.

“Lord Jiang! Lord Jiang!”

Before he could fully relax, hurried footsteps sounded outside the tent. A soldier shouted urgently:

“There’s smoke rising near the armory!”

Smoke at the armory?

The words jolted Jiang Yuxun. He immediately folded up the map and stood.

“Wait here—I’m coming right away!”

“Yes, Lord Jiang!”

The smoke outside was twice as thick as before. The moment Jiang Yuxun stepped out, he began coughing.

The grasslands offered no shelter, and the wind was far stronger than elsewhere.

Though the soldier hadn’t explained the cause, Jiang Yuxun had already guessed—

burning grass, whipped up by the gale, had crossed the open plains and fallen into the camp.

The camp’s fire-prevention measures were as thorough as possible, yet this danger was impossible to fully guard against.

“Cough—cough… Where is the smoke coming from?”

Reaching the armory at full speed, Jiang Yuxun covered his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing lightly, then squinted into the tents.

A soldier guarding the outside saluted at once.

“Reporting to Lord Jiang: the smoke is coming from behind the armory. Lord Zhuang has already gone in to check.”

“He went in?!” Jiang Yuxun’s eyes widened in alarm.

Gunpowder mixed with tung oil was unstable.

He had repeatedly warned Zhuang Youli that personal safety must come first—

yet when danger truly struck, Zhuang Youli had rushed in without a second thought.

“Yes… yes.” The soldier nodded through clenched teeth and quickly explained what had happened.

Jiang Yuxun’s heart twisted painfully.

The armory consisted of five tents.

At this moment, the other officials responsible—along with Fei Jin—were each guarding a tent.

When the smoke was discovered, Zhuang Youli sent someone to notify Jiang Yuxun, then led several soldiers straight into the tent to investigate.

The north wind was growing stronger, and in the rolling smoke it was nearly impossible to see the source of the fire with the naked eye.

“So you still don’t know what exactly the smoke is coming from?” Jiang Yuxun’s words came faster than ever.

The soldier nodded with difficulty. “That’s right…”

A small stream ran beside the armory.

Without another thought, Jiang Yuxun turned and ran to the stream, soaking the cloth he carried with him.

These weapons were manufactured in secrecy. No one in the camp understood their properties, power, and storage conditions better than Jiang Yuxun.

Before the soldiers outside could react, he had already covered his mouth and nose with the wet cloth and hurried back toward the tent.

But before anyone could stop him—

a dull boom suddenly sounded nearby, and the ground beneath their feet trembled slightly.

“There was an explosion inside the armory…” Jiang Yuxun murmured.

He forced his eyes open and looked ahead.

Thick smoke was steadily pouring out of the pitch-dark tent.

Zhuang Youli was still inside!

Pain clenched Jiang Yuxun’s heart.

Instinctively he tried to rush in, but the Xuanjin Guards who had been following him grabbed him firmly and held him back.

“Lord Jiang, don’t rush!”

“Wait a moment—let’s see whether the tent catches fire!”

“You must not gamble with your own safety,” one guard said gravely. “If anything happens to you, the entire Zhenbei camp will fall into chaos!”

This was no exaggeration.

With the emperor personally leading the campaign, Jiang Yuxun was the pillar holding everyone together.

Even Qi Pingsha, who had remained behind, stepped forward and saluted with clenched teeth.

“Apologies, Lord Jiang. This is His Majesty’s order. We cannot allow you to risk yourself.”

The surroundings fell suddenly quiet.

On the day he transmigrated, Zhuang Youli had been sitting right beside him.

Since then, he had followed Jiang Yuxun everywhere, working tirelessly.

An only child in his previous life, Jiang Yuxun had always envied friends with siblings.

In these past years, he had long since come to regard Zhuang Youli as a younger brother—

yet now that “brother” lay in mortal danger inside the tent.

…Jiang Yuxun couldn’t bear to imagine how he would face Zhuang Yue if something truly happened.

Stopped from advancing, Jiang Yuxun clenched the wet cloth and lowered his head.

Forcing himself to think clearly, he spoke in a low, steady voice despite the coughing.

“Cough… The weapons inside are spaced apart. That explosion wasn’t loud—cough, cough—it should only be a few devices malfunctioning. The most dangerous thing right now is the smoke. I don’t know whether he covered his mouth and nose before entering.”

The original body had been sickly since childhood. Though Jiang Yuxun had not suffered serious illness since transmigrating, his constitution was still weaker than most.

He hadn’t stood there long before a sharp irritation rose in his throat.

He kept coughing, even swaying slightly on his feet.

The soldiers nearby watched him with concern.

Though his voice was calm, the faint tremor in his body betrayed his fear.

The tent opening faced northwest. A strong gust swept through, and within moments the smoke vanished from sight.

Thankfully—

there was no fire inside, and no chain explosions.

The Xuanjin Guards exchanged looks, then quickly covered their mouths with wet cloths and rushed into the tent.

Time seemed to slow under the strain.

Another northwest gust swept smoke past them.

Outside, Jiang Yuxun coughed and ordered water to be poured around the tent.

—And then, finally, he heard footsteps.

Looking up, he saw Xuanjin Guards emerge from the tent, carrying Zhuang Youli on their back and sprinting straight to the leeward side.

The soldiers who had entered with them were helped out as well.

“Call the military physician!” Jiang Yuxun hurried over.

“Yes, Lord Jiang!”

By the time the order was given, Zhuang Youli had already been carried into the nearest tent.

The fire had burned for hours. In early summer, the grassland morning should have been cold and heavy with dew—

yet now, just after sunrise, the heat was already like midsummer.

Zhuang Youli’s blue robe was smeared black with soot, his forehead slick with sweat.

His eyes were tightly shut, and a small streak of blood marked his face.

The guard who had carried him spoke quickly, afraid Jiang Yuxun would worry.

“Please rest assured, Lord Jiang! His breathing and pulse are normal. He only fainted. One device exploded inside, but the fire was put out before it could spread.”

As he spoke, the guard rinsed the soot from his own mouth and nose with water.

Though Zhuang Youli looked frail, having grown up carefully cared for in Zhaodu, his health was far better than that of the original, sickly Jiang Yuxun.

Jiang Yuxun finally let out a long breath.

“Are you all right, Youli?” He asked softly, taking cooled water from a soldier and rinsing the grime from Zhuang Youli’s face.

Clear water ran down his cheeks, washing away the soot bit by bit.

“Cough—cough…” Zhuang Youli frowned and carefully drank some water.

A few breaths later, he struggled to open his eyes.

“A… A-Xun?”

Before Jiang Yuxun could answer, Zhuang Youli’s eyes reddened.

“I—I’m alive!”

Long accustomed to following Jiang Yuxun around, Zhuang Youli knew everyone in the tent.

Seeing familiar faces, he suddenly broke down, crying uncontrollably.

“I thought—I thought I was going to die. If Father and Mother knew… how heartbroken they’d be…”

Though an adult, he had never cried like this before.

“A-Xun, hit me,” he pleaded tearfully. “Let me know if this is real or just a dream.”

Jiang Yuxun quickly set the bowl aside and handed him a cloth.

His throat burned too badly to speak, so he simply granted the request—

and flicked Zhuang Youli sharply on the forehead.

“Ow—! It’s real!” Zhuang Youli clutched his forehead, his long-suspended heart finally settling. “Cough… I’m really fine.”

Qi Pingsha, who had followed them inside, frowned and spoke sternly.

“Didn’t Lord Jiang say that in such situations, life and safety must come first? Why would Lord Zhuang put himself in danger?”

Now recovered, Zhuang Youli bit his lip and replied softly:

“…I don’t know how long this war will last. We could ignore it, but if the fighting drags on and we don’t have enough weapons, wouldn’t that lead to disaster?”

Jiang Yuxun turned away, coughing.

The once-timid Zhuang Youli grew more resolute as he spoke, arguing earnestly.

“Anyway, I… I don’t have any other use. If I can protect these weapons at a critical moment, then it’s still serving the country and the people.”

As he spoke, his heart thudded heavily—

along with a trace of quiet dejection.

For a moment, Qi Pingsha was rendered speechless.

“You… you…”

Qi Pingsha instinctively felt that something about Zhuang Youli’s tone was… odd.

If he had ever been to the modern era, he would have recognized it instantly—

that tone was called “chuuni.”

The felt curtain of the tent had long since been lowered.

After coughing for quite some time, Jiang Yuxun had regained a bit of strength.

He suddenly turned to look at Zhuang Youli, then shook his head.

“No.”

His voice was hoarse from coughing. The moment he spoke, everyone in the tent turned their eyes toward him.

Unlike Qi Pingsha, Jiang Yuxun did not reprimand Zhuang Youli for his recklessness. Instead, he gently shook his head and said,

“Firearms are only one form of support. Even without them, His Majesty and Great Zhou would still win this battle in the end. That is beyond doubt.”

His voice was weak and raspy, yet his tone was firm in a way rarely heard.

Everyone present knew that Jiang Yuxun had already organized the herders to dig firebreaks.

But instinctive fear of fire still made them deeply uneasy.

For a hundred years, Zherou had repeatedly invaded Great Zhou from the south, leaving behind a myth of near-constant victory.

Great Zhou, counting carefully, had only truly defeated Zherou twice.

More importantly, the scale of this war was simply too vast—

so vast that even the smallest anxiety was magnified endlessly.

Only now, hearing Jiang Yuxun speak with such certainty, did the faintly suspended hearts of those present finally settle, little by little.

“Cough… wars always come to an end sooner or later.” Jiang Yuxun fixed his gaze on Zhuang Youli and said with utmost seriousness,

“Youli has great talent in numbers. You memorize quickly and calculate accurately. During the tax reform last time, you were indispensable. Who says only those who fight wars or forge weapons count as talent? When Great Zhou is peaceful and prosperous in the future, there will be no shortage of work for you.”

The dimness in Zhuang Youli’s eyes slowly brightened.

He hadn’t been joking earlier. Spending his days “running errands” in Xianyou Palace, Zhuang Youli truly felt that he was of little use.

Compared to him, Jiang Yuxun was the very definition of “someone else’s child”—someone he both envied and admired.

Yet today, Jiang Yuxun told him with absolute seriousness—

that he, too, had a talent of his own.

Having inhaled too much smoke, Jiang Yuxun’s voice was rougher than usual, stripped of its former clarity.

He spoke without his usual smile, looking exceptionally reliable.

Zhuang Youli couldn’t help pressing his lips together in a small smile. His face flushed slightly with embarrassment as he turned away and murmured,

“You’ve also become much more mature than when we first met a few years ago.”

…A few years ago?

His words brought Jiang Yuxun straight back to the day of transmigration—

to the banquet where Zhuang Youli had worn a pained expression and pretended not to know him after hearing his outrageous remarks.

Seeing that Zhuang Youli was recovering well, Jiang Yuxun stepped forward and patted his shoulder, deliberately teasing,

“You too. You’re much bolder today than you were back then.”

He said it obliquely, but the guilty Zhuang Youli immediately understood.

“That was because we weren’t familiar back then!” Zhuang Youli shot back at once.

He even braced himself on the table and stood up, looking ready to argue face-to-face.

—He really had recovered.

Perhaps the wind direction had changed; the smoke over the camp had thinned without anyone noticing.

At least, it no longer burned the lungs the way it had before.

After leaving the tent, Jiang Yuxun planned to climb the watchtower and use a telescope to observe the distant battlefield.

But before he could ascend, Zhuang Youli, who had followed him out, suddenly stepped forward and tugged lightly at his sleeve.

“What is it, Youli?” Jiang Yuxun turned, mildly puzzled.

Zhuang Youli, who had already stopped crying, now had reddened eyes again for some reason.

Lowering his head slightly, he spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear:

“…Thank you.”

The baby fat on his face had faded at some point. He looked much thinner now, no longer like a child.

“Why are you thanking me?” Jiang Yuxun smiled.

“It was the Xuanjin Guards who carried you out. If you want to thank someone, thank them.”

Zhuang Youli shook his head seriously.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what?”

“Do you remember when I said I wanted to become a hero like you and His Majesty?” Zhuang Youli smiled shyly and looked toward the crimson clouds in the distance.

“Today… honestly, I rushed into that tent on impulse, thinking maybe I could be recorded in the history books too. Don’t laugh at me—”

The flames hadn’t fully died out.

They had already reached near the horizon.

Red fire illuminated the clouds, like a massive sunset hanging overhead.

“Of course I won’t.” Jiang Yuxun shook his head gently.

Zhuang Youli scratched his head and continued, still embarrassed,

“If it weren’t for you, I’d probably just be muddling along under my father forever. But you’re about the same age as me, and you’ve already done so much. I couldn’t sit still anymore…”

Perhaps having touched on his true feelings, his words stumbled, sentences tumbling out unevenly.

Jiang Yuxun stood patiently in front of him, listening without interruption.

After a few breaths, Zhuang Youli finally took a deep breath and said solemnly,

“You’re right! I am good at numbers. Good thing I got my life back this time. When we return to Zhaodu, just you wait! In the history books—haha—you’ll get ten pages, and I’ll at least get three sides!”

Having never made such grand declarations in his life, Zhuang Youli grew embarrassed the moment he finished speaking.

Before Jiang Yuxun could reply, he grabbed Jiang Yuxun’s shoulders, turned him toward the watchtower, and pushed him forward.

“Right? Hurry up and get back to work!”

With that, he ran off in a flash.

But he hadn’t gone far when Jiang Yuxun, already atop the watchtower, shouted down at him,

“What do you mean three sides? At least three full pages!”

The strong wind sent his black hair flying together with the battle flags. His eyes were dazzlingly bright.

“Alright!” Zhuang Youli’s nose stung for no reason. He turned back and shouted,

“Just wait and see!”

“Deal!”

“It’s a deal—”

At noon, northern Dingwumu Vast Grasslands.

The wildfire advanced in a long, continuous line.

The northwestern grasslands had already been reduced to scorched ash, and the flames there had fully died out.

The Zherou army advanced forward, stepping over blackened earth, pushing ahead along the fireline.

Rolling hills stretched across the grassland. From far away, the Qiuqi King—leading the vanguard—spotted Great Zhou’s main force already positioned atop the hills, watching his approach.

At a glance, he recognized the black-clad figure—

the same man who had defeated him not long ago.

Separated by dozens of li of fire, the Qiuqi King was more arrogant than ever.

He raised his whip, laughing wildly as he turned to the Zherou soldiers behind him.

“—Why do we fight today?!”

Tens of thousands of soldiers raised their weapons, shouting in unison as they waved them:

“Kill Ying Changchuan! Trample the Central Plains!”

“Trample the Central Plains!”

“Trample the Central Plains!”

—Before this battle, they had even practiced a few phrases of Great Zhou’s official language.

The gale carried those words to the Zhou forces, thunderous and deafening.

The fireline crept closer to the hills. The Qiuqi King’s warhorse pawed the ground excitedly.

Like all the Zherou waiting there, he was in no rush to charge forward.

He was waiting—for the flames to reach the hills, for the moment the Great Zhou emperor and his officials would flee in panic.

Perhaps they wouldn’t even need to lift a hand; the fire alone would kill these Zhou people.

As the cries of “Trample the Central Plains” faded, two soldiers who had defected from Great Zhou to Zherou followed the Qiuqi King’s orders and shouted toward the Zhou army across the fireline:

“Looks like the Zhou emperor is destined to be ground to dust and ashes!”

“Hahaha… once we seize their strong liquor, we can use his skull—and those of his generals—as drinking cups!”

The flames climbed higher and higher, until Ying Changchuan’s figure was no longer visible.

“Not just the generals,” the first Zherou man added, his tone turning lewd.

“Isn’t there also that ‘Lord Jiang’? I hear Jiang Yuxun has delicate skin and a pretty face. After we win, why not capture—”

Another Zherou soldier, who understood some of Great Zhou’s language, chimed in in Zherou speech:

“The Zhou like to keep male favorites. Jiang Yuxun’s power has only grown these past years—who knows if he isn’t one of them? Hahahaha—”

The fire was only a few zhang away from Ying Changchuan.

The Dingbei General beside him had already turned ashen.

And just as the northwesterly wind blew burning grass toward the horses’ hooves—

the emperor, who had been standing with eyes closed, suddenly laughed softly.

A few breaths later, Ying Changchuan slowly opened his eyes and looked toward the inferno.

Even the raging fire could not warm those ash-gray eyes.

Under the blaze, the air warped and shimmered.

Before him was nothing but red.

In his eyes—only razor-sharp killing intent.

At that moment, he suddenly raised his longbow, closed his eyes once more across the roaring flames and thick smoke—

and nocked two arrows to the powerful bow.

Fire and wind vanished from his awareness.

Before the two Zherou men could finish speaking, Ying Changchuan released the bowstring.

“Whoosh—”

With a piercing sound, the arrows tore through air and flame, homing in on the voices—

and struck straight through the men’s brows.

At the same instant, the towering wall of fire finally reached the firebreak coiled like a great dragon halfway up the hills—

The fire went out.