The Struggle of Chaos Chapter Sixty-Four: Lin Ai's Invitation

Beitong Pass.

Four months had passed since Yang Ruiyun’s western campaign. Everything at Beitong Pass seemed calm and smooth; the military drills were well-organized, and at last, the troops began to take on the semblance of a true army. Supplies and equipment from the Lin family continued to flow steadily into Beitong Pass.

“Tong, how have you been feeling lately?”

Li Qiutong gazed at the soldiers drilling below, replying, “I’m alright. Things are going smoothly.”

“I feel like something’s missing, though,” Deng Zhanxuan said, coming over and looking a little puzzled.

“Their martial foundations are pretty solid now. Many have reached the level of true warriors, and their combat exercises are decent. But they lack passion,” Ren Xingtian added his assessment.

After a moment of silence, Ren Xingtian elaborated, “Honestly, there’s not much we can do. Most of them are here because they committed some crime or offended someone and were sent here to wait for death. The fact that we could get them in line and retrain them with high pay is already an achievement. Expecting them to risk their lives will take time.”

“We’ll just have to be patient,” Li Qiutong shrugged. For him, succeeding according to plan was naturally a good thing, but if things didn’t work out, he wouldn’t force it. After all, he’d always been someone who went with the flow.

“We can’t take it slow—our funds aren’t unlimited. We need to find an opportunity to fire them up,” Ren Xingtian reminded them helplessly.

“I thought we had plenty of money?” Li Qiutong asked, confused.

Ren Xingtian sighed and said, “Don’t armor, weapons, and warhorses cost money? Didn’t you rebuild the whole Beitong Pass? That took money too, didn’t it?”

“Uh…” Li Qiutong scratched his head, unsure what to say.

“So what now? Didn’t you calculate all this beforehand?”

“There’s still some left. We’ll just use what we have and see how it goes.” Ren Xingtian was completely unbothered.

Looking at his expression, Li Qiutong had the sudden urge to punch him.

“Seriously, is this all you guys eat? Where’s that housekeeper Xingtian found?” Deng Zhanxuan sat on a bench by the table, eyeing the simple dishes that looked far inferior to those from a few days ago.

Ren Xingtian put down his chopsticks with a bitter face, while Li Qiutong, expressionless, picked up a large chunk of turnip and put it in his mouth.

“Yang Hu’s wife is about to give birth, so Yuling went to the White Tiger barracks to be with Miss Wang,” Ren Xingtian explained simply.

Deng Zhanxuan nodded, picked up his chopsticks, and tried a dish that looked edible. The next moment, he nearly spat it out.

“What is this? It’s terrible! Why don’t you eat at the mess hall?”

“Ask him,” Li Qiutong gestured toward Ren Xingtian with his chopsticks. There was no doubt—Ren Xingtian had cooked this meal.

All of Ren Xingtian’s usual confidence vanished as he said, “I lost a bet with Tong, so I have to cook for him for a month. And…”

“Wait, you’re planning to eat this stuff for a whole month?” Deng Zhanxuan asked in astonishment.

“It’s not just me eating it,” Ren Xingtian replied.

“Do you two have to torture each other like this?” Deng Zhanxuan couldn’t believe they would eat this for a whole month.

Li Qiutong shook his head. “It’s not mutual torture. He can’t hurt me.”

“Tong, must you be so ruthless?”

“You said it yourself. Don’t quit halfway,” Li Qiutong said with absolute seriousness.

“I…” Ren Xingtian was momentarily at a loss for words.

Just then, as they were chatting, a soldier jogged over to them and reported, “General, the Lin family’s delivery man says he has something for you.”

“For me? Let him come over.” Li Qiutong trusted the Lin family, given how much they’d worked together.

Soon, the soldier returned with a man dressed like a steward.

The old steward approached, bowed politely, and said, “I am the warehouse chief of the Lin family. May I ask which of you is General Li Qiutong?”

“That’s me. What is it?”

The steward’s face broke into a wide smile. “General Li, a hero in his youth! I am the Lin family’s warehouse chief, entrusted by the head of the family to deliver this letter to you.” With that, he drew a delicate envelope from his sleeve and handed it to Li Qiutong.

“The head of the family—Lin Ai?” Li Qiutong wondered aloud as he opened the envelope.

Ren Xingtian, meanwhile, quietly observed the steward standing respectfully to the side. Li Qiutong clearly didn’t care about his status, but Ren Xingtian had caught every word. Warehouse chief—a significant position. The Lin family’s entire stock was in that warehouse; only someone highly trusted could manage it. Clearly, this smiling old man held a status not much lower than Lin Ni.

Li Qiutong read the letter carefully. The writing was small and elegant, graceful yet neat—clearly the work of a skilled calligrapher.

After a while, he looked up and said to the steward, “I understand. You may go.”

“Then I’ll take my leave.” With that, the steward turned and departed.

“Tong, what did the letter say?” Ren Xingtian asked, curious.

Before Li Qiutong could answer, Deng Zhanxuan guessed, “Is it a love letter? Second Brother said you and the Lin family’s head have a special relationship.”

Li Qiutong paid little mind to Deng Zhanxuan’s offhand remark, but instead replied with some concern, “Lin Ai has invited me to meet in Chaos City tomorrow—she says there’s an important matter to discuss.”

“Just as I expected,” Ren Xingtian said confidently.

“What do you think she wants from me?” Li Qiutong, after all he’d been through and after spending so much time with Ren Xingtian, was no longer the naive youth he’d been when he first left the mountains—he didn’t imagine she’d simply want to chat.

But Ren Xingtian kept his own counsel. “You’ll know when you get there.”

Then he changed the subject. “Ah Xuan, come with me to the Southern Barracks tonight—I want to discuss something with Biluo.”

“Sure. This isn’t cooked, though.” As he spoke, Deng Zhanxuan spat out another bite of food he’d just tried.

That night, Li Qiutong lay alone in bed, recalling the day he’d met Lin Ai. It had only been about a year, not long but not short either. Yet in this year, Li Qiutong had met many people and experienced many things—far more than in his eighteen years of seclusion in the mountains.

And Lin Ai had certainly left a deep impression on him. That beautiful, gentle girl, with her sweet, captivating smile—she was strong and kind, and being with her made Li Qiutong feel relaxed and at ease.

He shook his head and smiled helplessly, his thoughts drifting to Yun Luoxuan. Her image was already fading from his mind, leaving only the faintest shadow.

Li Qiutong no longer understood what it meant to keep her in his heart. In the ignorance of youth, he’d thought the world was simple, that he would always love the wise, courageous Yun. But reality was different—so many people, so many events. He found he could not live his whole life for her. Eighteen years of effort—what did it mean if she might not even remember him?

Li Qiutong did not know, and did not wish to know. For now, he only wished that dream could last forever. Perhaps he would never see her again; perhaps she already had someone she loved. But he did not want those years of effort to become meaningless. Perhaps living in pursuit of an unattainable dream was the best choice he had left.

As Li Qiutong thought and slowly drifted to sleep, the sword he’d left at his bedside began to emit a faint glow. After the battle before the Beacon Monument, this mysterious sword had somehow ended up in his possession, and even Ren Xingtian had no idea where it came from. Li Qiutong had simply kept it as his sidearm, occasionally using it to cut fruit. The sword had shown no magical abilities, aside from being remarkably sharp, so he’d paid it little mind.

But now, the sword began to gather martial essence on its own, though Li Qiutong was already fast asleep.

A soft pink martial energy slowly formed into the shape of a woman—one that would make any man’s blood run hot. As the essence coalesced, the figure grew more distinct: long, shapely legs, delicate hands, perfect proportions, an enchanting figure, and a face of unparalleled beauty, enough to bewitch all living things. Oddly, she had two furry ears atop her head, and nine snow-white tails trailing behind her.

Now, this woman stood by Li Qiutong’s bedside, glaring at him in anger.

“This detestable man—how dare he use me to cut fruit! If most of my divine power weren’t sealed beneath that cursed monument, I’d have him grovel at my feet, personally peeling fruit for me!”

Having vented her indignation, she seemed to remember her purpose here. She gently placed a finger on Li Qiutong’s forehead.

“Let me give you a proper lesson in your dreams.”

Just as she was about to enter his dream with her martial essence, the Yin-Yang Dragon Staff leaning against the wall suddenly erupted with two terrifying auras. Sensing these vaguely familiar energies, the woman quickly withdrew her hand and turned toward the staff.

“How is this possible? That terrifying divine power… Could it be them? But why would they submit to a human?” A trace of fear crossed her face. Watching as her form began to fade, she gritted her teeth.

“Once my power is restored, I’ll make this man pay.” With that, she transformed into martial essence and returned to the sword.

Southern Barracks.

Ren Xingtian, Deng Zhanxuan, Biluo, and Zhu Yan’er were chatting together.

“No, absolutely not,” Biluo declared, slapping the table.

But Ren Xingtian persisted, “General Biluo, how can you be so inconsiderate of your soldiers? They’re people too—you can’t ignore their feelings.”

“I—”

“Think about it: here at Beitong Pass, your command has the highest number of women. So many young soldiers want to be transferred here. We’re all young, and I know some of them have complicated relationships. Even if you strictly forbid them from interacting with male soldiers, seeking the opposite sex is human nature. As far as I know, there are at least ten confirmed couples already. How can you bear to break them up?”

As Biluo fell silent, Ren Xingtian continued, “We’re all one family—what’s there to be so concerned about?”

Biluo shook her head. “Now isn’t the time for romance. If they marry, how will they fight in battle?”

“That’s where you’re wrong. When husband and wife join forces, they’re unbeatable. With loved ones to protect, they have more to fight for, and their combat power rises dramatically.”

Seemingly swayed by his words, Biluo was silent for a while before conceding, “But you can’t force them.”

“Of course not. I’ve always respected women. We’ll just host a matchmaking event—only if both agree will there be anything between them. How’s that?” Ren Xingtian proposed.

Biluo thought it over, then finally nodded.

“Good! I actually think General Biluo should find someone too, share some of the pressure.” He then gestured at Deng Zhanxuan. “Ah Xuan would be great—tall, strong, and thick-skinned. You’re an archer, he’s a shield-bearer; together, you’d be a nightmare on the battlefield. What do you think?”

Biluo shot him a glare, glanced at the blushing Deng Zhanxuan, and said coldly, “If there’s nothing else, please leave. My affairs are none of your concern.”

Seeing that Biluo was telling them to go, Ren Xingtian could only bid farewell and drag the still-bewildered Deng Zhanxuan out. Zhu Yan’er also stood to see them off.

Watching them leave, Biluo muttered to herself, “He’s nice enough, just a bit dense.”

Outside—

“Mr. Ren, you’re quite the strategist,” Zhu Yan’er remarked suddenly.

Ren Xingtian was a little surprised. “Oh? Why do you say that, Commander Zhu?”

Zhu Yan’er smiled. “The two things Beitong Pass’s army lacks most—I thought they’d be a major problem for you. Now I see you’ve already thought it through.”

“There’s a plan for everything, it seems. I underestimated you, Commander Zhu. May I ask who taught you?”

“I’m from the Martial Academy. Have you heard of it?”

Ren Xingtian was startled. “The Martial Academy? It’s the holy ground for officers—only recruits students every five years from across the continent. Graduates are prized by rulers everywhere, each destined to command armies; those who fail never leave. You’re from the Martial Academy?”

“Mr. Ren, you’re well informed—I can’t compare. My lady and I will do our best to help, but I hope you’ll remember your promises.”

“Naturally.”

They exchanged a smile, saying nothing more. Only Deng Zhanxuan was still trying to recall where he’d heard of the Martial Academy—it seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.