Volume One: Flames at the Border Chapter Forty-Eight: Catastrophe

Another soldier thrust his spear straight at Chilogan’s armpit, but though the tip struck flesh, it could not pierce through. Chilogan bellowed and caught the oncoming spear with one hand, then, with a tremendous shout, lifted the attacker into the air as if he weighed nothing, flinging him aside with a single arm.

Chilogan’s ferocity unnerved the onlookers, and for a moment, fear seized their hearts. Ran Yu shouted, “Everyone stand aside! I’ll take him myself!” He spurred his horse forward and brandished his spear, aiming directly for Chilogan’s face.

Clad in three layers of armor, Chilogan exposed only his face. Seeing Ran Yu’s spear flash toward him like lightning, he was so startled he lunged forward, narrowly dodging the spearhead. Taking advantage of his momentum, he swung his bronze cudgel at Ran Yu’s horse’s legs.

Ran Yu parried with his spear, deflecting the cudgel with a resounding crack.

From a distance, He Yu observed the scene and thought, “Chilogan possesses monstrous strength and formidable skill. His armored mount gives him an overwhelming advantage. Without using Juque, he will be difficult to defeat.”

He urged his white dragon steed forward and charged, thrusting his spear straight at Chilogan’s face. Chilogan jerked his head aside, dodging the attack. In a flash, He Yu pressed his feet into the stirrups, let go of his spear with both hands, and leapt like a tiger straight into Chilogan’s arms. Caught off guard by this unexpected maneuver, Chilogan could not bring his bronze cudgel to bear in time. He Yu seized him by the neck with his left hand.

A cry of astonishment rose from Ran Yu and the others: “What kind of technique is that?”

With lightning speed, He Yu drew Juque with his right hand and, in a single motion, sliced. In an instant, Chilogan’s massive head was in He Yu’s grasp, a jet of blood shooting several yards into the air, while his enormous body remained upright atop the war camel.

Blood splattered across He Yu’s face. He kicked the headless corpse to the ground, vaulted onto his white dragon steed, and, brandishing the severed head, shouted, “Chilogan’s head is here! Who among you dares face me?”

Chilogan had been the greatest warrior of Later Yan. With his death, the hundred-strong cavalry unit of Later Yan instantly lost heart and scattered in a rout. Ran Yu raised his spear and shouted, “Brothers, if we don’t strike now, when will we?” Like a storm, they rushed forth, spearing and shooting arrows, leaving not a single foe alive.

Having slain Chilogan with modern special forces combat techniques, He Yu dared not linger. He turned his horse in search of Deng’er, killing several more Yan cavalrymen along the way. Witnessing He Yu’s ferocity, the Yan soldiers were struck with terror. Hearing the call to rally, they broke off pursuit and hurried toward the sound, no longer daring to engage him.

He Yu encountered no resistance as he returned to his small courtyard, only to find servants and children slain where they fell. He searched the premises inside and out, but there was no sign of Deng’er.

He felt a moment’s relief. From his inner chamber, he retrieved the Flexible Snake Armor and put it on, then placed the Night-Pearl and the Ninefold Resurrection Pill in his bosom before riding to the Orchid Residence.

Within, corpses lay strewn everywhere. Many serving girls and maidservants, stripped bare, lay dead and violated. These were people He Yu had seen daily; their tragic fates left him inconsolable. He searched every floor, but found no trace of Chen Qingyun.

A thought struck him: Chen Jing was a cautious man—his residence must have a secret passage leading outside. Chen Qingyun and Deng’er were both skilled; if taken by surprise, they would surely flee to Chen Jing.

He mounted his horse once more, left through the east gate of the Orchid Residence, and turned north. Near the Bamboo Pavilion gate, he heard Yan soldiers shouting, “Come out now, or we’ll burn the building down!”

He Yu gripped Juque and slipped into the courtyard. He saw more than twenty Yan soldiers, weapons in hand, encircling the Pine-Crane Tower. Two soldiers held torches, already setting fire to the columns.

The courtyard was littered with the bodies of over a hundred guards and Yan soldiers. The Pine-Crane Tower’s defenders, personally trained by Chen Jing and mostly kin, had exacted a heavy toll on the attackers.

Judging by the soldiers’ shouts, there were still survivors inside—skilled fighters whom the Yan soldiers dared not face directly.

He Yu glanced around, but among the corpses he saw neither Deng’er, Chen Jing, nor Chen Qingyun. Whoever was still resisting inside must be Chen Jing.

As he pondered this, a furious voice rang out from within, “White barbarian dogs! You dream in vain! As long as I, Chen Jing, draw breath, you will never enter!”

It was indeed Chen Jing—he was alive.

Overjoyed, He Yu crept up behind the Yan soldiers. Exhausted from a night of fighting, the soldiers were focused on burning the building and failed to notice his silent approach.

Mercy to the enemy is cruelty to oneself. He Yu, ghost-like, slit the throats of three soldiers before the rest realized, screaming in alarm. The remaining soldiers spun around to find a lone man facing them. Grinning savagely, they brandished their weapons and closed in.

He Yu gritted his teeth. “I haven’t tried out my new King of Qin Nine Swords yet. Today, I’ll test them on you lot.”

He thrust his sword, targeting the nearest foe, who hastily tried to block. With a sudden shift of speed, Juque slipped through a gap in the defense and plunged into the man’s throat. Blood sprayed, and he fell dead on the spot.

Seeing He Yu kill with such ease, the soldiers realized they faced a master. With a collective roar, they attacked at once.

By now, He Yu had witnessed unspeakable horrors, and a dark fury burned within him. Bloodlust surged through his veins, begging for release.

With a wild cry, he plunged into their midst. His swordplay was uncanny and savage; his armor invulnerable to blade or spear; Juque cut through iron like mud. He tore through the Yan soldiers like a tiger among sheep, killing all who stood in his way, until the ground was strewn with a dozen fresh corpses.

The star of slaughter rose, shining with a baleful light.

These fierce, battle-hardened Yan soldiers were no fools. On this spring morning, they found themselves utterly outmatched. Worse, their blades and spears could not even wound their unarmored opponent.

He Yu stood in the morning light, soaked in blood, Juque dripping crimson, emitting a strange, keening whistle. This ancient divine blade, nourished by blood, glowed faintly red, terrifying to behold.

Slowly, He Yu herded the eight surviving soldiers into a corner, a tiger driving a pack of wolves.

With hoarse, desperate cries, the eight soldiers hurled themselves at him, seeking only mutual destruction, knowing that only by risking everything might they survive.

He Yu smiled coldly and met them head-on. With Juque slashing and stabbing, screams rang out one after another, and soon the eight soldiers were dead at his feet.

Casting a glance at the carnage, He Yu approached the main door and called, “Is that the master within? It’s me, He Yu…”

A fit of coughing from inside was followed by a joyful voice. “It is I! Yuzhi, you’ve returned at last.”

He Yu darted inside. Bodies lay everywhere—mostly Yan soldiers, but three were Chen Jing’s personal guards.

Chen Jing, hair disheveled, leaned against a low couch, clutching a ring-hilted long saber. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth; a long arrow was buried in his chest, staining his robe with blood.

The couch, once against the north wall, had been pushed aside to reveal a large, square opening—the secret passage leading from the inner fort to the outside.

“My lord—I… I am too late…”

He Yu staggered, collapsing at Chen Jing’s feet, clutching his legs and weeping bitterly.

Chen Jing smiled faintly. “Not too late. From now on, the fate of the Chen stronghold rests with you.”

When the city fell, Chen Jing had quickly organized the women, children, and elderly to flee through the secret passage under Chen Qingyun’s lead, while he and his guards fought to the death to buy them time.

He asked about the situation outside, and He Yu gave a brief account. Chen Jing sighed deeply, tears streaming down his face. “A century’s foundation destroyed in one night. I have failed my ancestors!”

“My lord, the true villain is that traitor Li Yu. This is no place to linger. Let me carry you to safety.”

He Yu used Juque to sever the arrow shaft protruding from Chen Jing’s chest, then bent down and lifted him onto his back.

Outside, the white dragon steed stood waiting, wild with fury. It had kicked a Xianbei warhorse to the ground and was tearing at its throat, licking up the blood as it flowed. This strange steed was ferocious, feeding not only on grass, but on flesh and blood as well.

He Yu whistled, and the white dragon steed, hearing its master’s call, came galloping like a young bull.

He Yu and Chen Jing mounted together and sped across the bridge, skirting the walls toward the north gate. The white dragon was as swift as the wind, and in no time they reached the gate.

Ran Yu was directing the troops to form ranks against the enemy. Seeing He Yu, he called out joyfully, “Yu’er, hurry through the north gate! The barbarian cavalry is about to charge!”

Meanwhile, the Yan cavalry had regrouped at the south gate and was charging toward the north. He Yu scanned the area—villagers hiding in the shadows had all escaped, and his heart was at ease. He spurred the white dragon steed up the mountain road through the north gate, the soldiers following in retreat.

Ran Yu brought up the rear. Suddenly, he turned in the saddle and loosed an arrow, felling the nearest pursuer.

With a hearty laugh, he galloped up the mountain. The path was narrow, barely wide enough for one horse, growing ever steeper and branching into several trails that led deep into the mountains.

The Yan cavalry halted at the foot of the mountain, wary of their formidable foes and the treacherous terrain. They dared not pursue too closely, and instead stood cursing from below.

Ran Yu joined He Yu at the top, and together they mustered their men. Over thirty had fallen from Lianyun Fort, and more than a hundred were wounded.

Of the Chen stronghold’s retainers, only six hundred survived; of the villagers, over two thousand escaped. The stronghold had nearly ten thousand souls—after this night of calamity, four-fifths were lost, nearly all wiped out.

Chen Jing lay in He Yu’s arms, his face ashen, gasping for breath, clearly at death’s door. Chen Jing was highly esteemed, and the survivors gathered around him, weeping silently.

Suddenly, from the mountain path came the voice of an old woman: “Where is the master? What has happened to him?”

The crowd parted, and an elderly matron, hair silver and wild, stumbled to Chen Jing’s side. Her features were dignified; she wore armor and a sword at her waist. It was Madam Zhen, wife of Chief Steward Li Ling. Born of a military family, her martial skills were the equal of any man.

Behind her was a bound figure dragged by a retainer—none other than Li Yu.

At the sight of Madam Zhen, Chen Jing’s eyes lit up. He reached out with trembling hands, grasping at the air, and murmured, “Mother… Mother… you’ve come to take me… to take me home…”

Before he finished, his head lolled to the side, and he breathed his last. Chen Jing’s birth mother had died young; he was nursed by Madam Zhen, to whom he was deeply attached.

Madam Zhen knelt, cradling Chen Jing in her arms. She gently wiped the blood from his face, tears streaming as she softly sang: “Lamb, lamb, grazing wild grass; do not wander far from my path, or I’ll strike your head…”

Her voice turned mournful: “Child, at last you may rest. Your nurse has failed you, failed the Chen stronghold. I’ll join you in the afterlife…”

With a sudden motion, she plunged a short, single-edged blade into her own chest.

“No—don’t—!”

He Yu cried out, trying to stop her, but it was too late. The blade pierced her heart; she shuddered once and was gone.

He Yu stood frozen, stunned beyond words.