Chapter 167

Chapter 167

When the Light Garment Battalion infiltrated the Northern Barbarians' territory, the Northern Frontier Army in the rear had already fought their way into the Silver Moon Tribe, establishing it as a stronghold. The battle line that had once pressed against Dayuan's border advanced step by step, eventually crossing the Silver Moon Gobi, pushing the entire Dayuan front line nearly a hundred li northward.

From the capture of the Secret Faction's leader, intelligence gathered from countless secret lines converged in one place.

When the news reached Qi Shen, Qi Hanzhou learned from the messenger that his father had been silent for a long time. The comrades who had fought alongside him in those years—the Prince of Pingnan's household had been reduced to pawns of the Secret Faction, the Western Shu garrison's soldiers dead or wounded... Only now, as they pushed into Northern Barbarian territory, did things finally turn around.

But everyone knew this was not yet over.

"News from the Crown Prince," the messenger continued. "At the border between the Northern Frontier and the Northern Barbarians, we've located the former Second Prince's Consort. The child beside her should be her posthumous son."

In a war-torn land, with a child in tow, everyone in the command tent understood—that child carried the blood of the previous dynasty.

"Send them back to the capital to be dealt with," Qi Hanzhou ordered. Including the captured Secret Faction remnants, all were to be kept alive and brought to the capital, to stand trial before the people of the realm.

"On the Northern Barbarians' side, the eastern forces have already retreated," a scout reported.

The Northern Frontier Army's battle prowess was renowned across the land. With tribal conflicts brewing behind the Northern Barbarian lines and their frontline heavy troops unable to overcome the Northern Frontier Army's valiant commanders, several tribes including Silver Moon had fallen. Under such circumstances, plagued by internal strife and external threats, even if the Northern Barbarian King wished to continue fighting, he could only retreat to protect his royal court.

At this point, the Dayuan army had already achieved a great victory.

Everyone in the command tent looked toward Qi Hanzhou. Beyond the tent stretched a sea of yellow sand, and behind them, Dayuan's borders were no longer in sight. But countless military supplies and provisions sustained them—this was the expectation of the entire realm, and they had to deliver a result to the people.

"Continue," Qi Hanzhou said. "What Dayuan demands is that the Northern Barbarians never dare set foot on our soil again."

The day after the Light Garment Battalion returned from mopping up Secret Faction remnants, the fully provisioned Northern Frontier Army marched north once more. Among the Vanguard Battalion, several old generals from Liangzhou in the Western Shu Defense Force quietly wiped away tears in corners where no one could see. They had endured too much—from the Western Shu years to the present Northern Frontier campaign, all they had ever waited for was peace across the land.

At the Qi family headquarters of the Northern Frontier Army, Qi Shen received reports from all directions. With the internal threats in the Northern Frontier eliminated, he made his decision. He abandoned the Northern Frontier Army's defensive stance, took command of half the army, and ordered a march northward. When word spread, the veteran generals of the Northern Frontier's eastern sector led their troops north. The Lu Family Army, which had long garrisoned Shayan Pass, received their orders and for the first time set foot on Northern Barbarian soil.

Tens of thousands of troops marched north once more, crossing through the Silver Moon Tribe and pressing deeper into enemy territory.

What the Northern Barbarian army hadn't expected was that even after retreating and showing weakness, the Dayuan Northern Frontier Army showed no sign of yielding. The great army from the Northern Frontier, accompanied by supply convoys, advanced to reinforce the Vanguard Battalion, looming menacingly over Northern Barbarian lands. The Dayuan army had no fear of a war of attrition—ample provisions and valiant soldiers had forged them into an unstoppable force.

Under such circumstances, their king still faced censure from several tribal chieftains, with internal power struggles still raging.

The next message to arrive at the command tent came from envoys sent by the Northern Barbarians. After losing several tribes in succession, the Northern Barbarian King had finally sent envoys to sue for peace. But this peace overture seemed far too insignificant in the face of the Dayuan soldiers who had fallen on the battlefield.

The envoys even carried themselves with a somewhat condescending air.

But the next day, the expeditionary Northern Frontier Army did not halt. Instead, they advanced once more toward the royal court's heartland.

No word came from the Dayuan court. Qi Hanzhou knew that if there were any need for peace talks, Ying Fusheng would have sent him a coded message. But since the northern campaign began, all the Northern Frontier Army had received was a steady stream of supplies and provisions from the rear—the full weight of Dayuan's national support.

Peace could be negotiated—but not now.

They wanted the Northern Barbarians to never dare invade Dayuan again—and to pay the price for their aggression.

When the Northern Barbarian King learned of this, his expression turned grim beyond measure—tribal censure, resistance from his own people. Internal strife, crumbling morale among his warriors—after successive defeats following the loss at Beiyan, the tribal nomads who had believed their army was winning abroad learned the truth, and memories of past defeats came flooding back, further eroding the army's cohesion.

This led some tribal chieftains to rally public sentiment and attempt to topple him from his throne. And at this critical moment, the chief culprit—the Prince of Pingnan's Heir—and his associates had vanished without a trace, and even his subordinate forces had reportedly been ambushed in the northern lands.

The Northern Barbarian King refused to let his ambitions be thwarted: "Then we'll fight them!"

But faster than his military orders could be issued, rebellion erupted from within his own tribes.

Before the Northern Barbarian King's commands could even be issued, the peace-faction tribes had already taken control of the royal court.

By then, the Northern Barbarians had already paid the price for their king's reckless arrogance.

In the spring of the twenty-sixth year of the Taiyuan Dynasty, after months of campaigning, the Northern Frontier Army marched into the Northern Barbarian royal court.

The iron hooves of the Northern Frontier Army crushed frost and snow, their banners snapping in the bitter wind, pointing straight at the heart of the royal court.

The campaign that had lasted over two years concluded with the Northern Barbarians' crushing defeat and their submission as a vassal state.

The news of victory in the north flew southward, passing through the Northern Frontier, the Central Plains, and the Southern Frontier.

"Old General Lu!"

Old General Lu stood atop the city walls of Youzhou. He had grown old now. From the moment he received news of the northern victory, he had stood there for a long time without coming down. Finally, he smiled and said to the young general beside him, "They won't be needing these old bones of mine anymore."

The generals around him all knew that when Old General Lu had left the capital, he had been prepared to die on the Northern Frontier battlefield. Not just him—down in Jiangnan, the Jiangnan garrison held the vast southern territories, and Old General Chen had likewise been staring north.

The messenger continued south, and when the news reached Prince Jin's residence, Prince Jin laughed, saying that Chen Shoude and Wang Guanzhi hadn't brought shame to the Jiangnan army. But Old General Chen sat alone in silence for a long time, then poured two jars of wine toward the north, offering a libation to the Chen family spirits in heaven.

"Victory! Victory! Great victory in the north!"

"Did they drive out the Northern Barbarians?"

"More than that! They marched right into the Northern Barbarians' homeland!"

When the common folk heard this wonderful news, they spread it everywhere in excitement. The people who had suffered so much from the wars were dazed for a moment, then realized that from this day forward, they would no longer have to fear the drums of war.

The spring snow melted at the Eastern Palace. A falcon descended, its round eyes blinking, gently pecking at the hand in front of it. The man resting with his eyes closed did not open them. He leaned back quietly in his armchair, a thin blanket spread across his knees.

The ministers in discussion kept their voices hushed. However long the Northern Frontier had been at war, the officials in the capital had labored just as long. The Three Judicial Offices and the Embroidered Uniform Guard's confiscated properties filled the state treasury; the Ministry of Revenue worked tirelessly to purchase ores and grain; the Ministry of Works converted them into military supplies; and finally the Ministry of War shipped them north.

That year, His Highness fell ill several times.

The spectacle of those great scholars from the Imperial Academy besieging the Imperial Medical Institute in years past had now become routine among the Eastern Palace's senior ministers. Even the usually composed Meng Jinyuan had made more than a few trips to the Imperial Medical Institute. During Ying Fusheng's illnesses, aside from the three Chief Ministers holding up court affairs, the rest fell to the Eastern Palace.

Weng Yanqing understood His Highness's health better than anyone. That was why, from the very founding of the Eastern Palace, he had made His Highness's health a top priority. The Eastern Palace needed capable hands within His Highness's immediate reach—it needed able ministers, not pedantic, masterless mediocrities.

"Have we won?" The drowsing man slowly stirred awake as the falcon pecked at him a few times.

Weng Yanqing said quietly, "We have won."

Those two simple words prompted the surrounding ministers to begin presenting the battle reports one after another. Since the founding of the Dayuan Dynasty, its military had never known defeat—but this was the first campaign launched amid internal turmoil and external threats. It was the Crown Prince who had overridden all opposition and backed the northern expedition.

The Crown Prince had served as regent for over a year, and Dayuan had not descended into chaos. The Southern and Northern Frontiers remained secure.

Everyone present knew that Dayuan's current state was inseparable from the Crown Prince's efforts.

Without needing Ying Fusheng to spell anything out, after a year of coordination, the court officials understood that from this victory onward, the northern expeditionary army would return in triumph, and the capital would once again bustle with activity—resettlement arrangements for Western Shu and Jiangnan, appointment of officials, rewards for victorious generals, and the drafting of terms for the Northern Barbarians' submission...

"What about the remaining Secret Faction members?" Ying Fusheng asked.

"The Northern Barbarian King was killed by other tribal chieftains, and the peace-faction tribes handed the remaining rebels over to the Northern Frontier Army," Weng Yanqing reported. "Half of the agents planted by the Xiao family and Empress Xu are dead. We've gathered what remains of their remains as best we could... The rest will be properly handled by the Northern Frontier Army. But several individuals remain unaccounted for, including Zhou Qingyuan. The Xiao family has asked whether we should search for him."

When the Zhou family had been used by the Ministry of Works in those years, their corruption in support of the Deposed Crown Prince had also weighed heavily on innocent commoners. That karmic debt was not easily erased, and Zhou Qingyuan knew it all too well. The atonement he could make and the debts of gratitude he could repay—for him personally, this was all he could do.

Ying Fusheng was silent for a moment, then said, "If we can confirm he's safe, there's no need to search for him."

"As for Kunning Palace, tell them the truth."

Weng Yanqing understood. He would arrange everything else himself.

"From the imperial prison, Lord Ji has come to ask..."

After the Emperor ordered the crown prince to oversee state affairs, he had been recuperating from illness. His energy was fading rapidly—old wounds compounded by years of accumulated strain. Chen Xuqiu detoxified him, while Wu Lao and Chu Taiyi exhausted every method of health preservation. But the Emperor was advancing in years, and during his recurring bouts of illness, he had summoned Ying Fusheng to the palace several times, giving instructions at his bedside.

"For all remaining matters, you have full authority to handle them," the Emperor said.

What else he instructed, no one knew.

But from then on, many things were tacitly left to Ying Fusheng's discretion, including the Secret Faction.

Months earlier, the remnants of the Secret Faction had been transferred to the capital and imprisoned deep within the imperial prison dungeons—among them Fei Xun, captured in Western Shu, and Concubine Xian, arrested in the capital... and finally, the Prince of Pingnan's Heir, escorted back from the Northern Frontier.

Chen Xuqiu had given the Embroidered Uniform Guard a secret drug. For people like these, death by a thousand cuts would be letting them off too easy. They had killed so many, brought so much disaster upon the people—they couldn't be allowed to die so easily. The drug would make a person wish for death but leave them unable to die, amplifying every pain in the body, letting them savor every moment their dreams shattered, whether real or nightmare, it would ensnare them completely.

For months, the secret drug, extreme torture... these people were reduced to less than human.

For the world's suffering and his own, dying once wasn't enough for them.

Ying Fusheng had never once gone to look.

Now, upon hearing this, he only said, "When they return, hand them over to the people."

The window showed spring in full bloom.

Before he knew it, nearly ten years had gone by.

When the true culprits finally faced their comeuppance, Ying Fusheng found himself suddenly feeling empty inside. Two lifetimes of national and personal grievances, a life turned upside down, a past plagued by illness and pain—looking back now, it was just a few brief strokes in his memory. He realized that at some point, he had stopped being trapped in the whirlpool of hatred; without realizing it, what kept him going had become the future.

He longed to see Dayuan's future—and a future with someone by his side.

In the summer of the twenty-sixth year of the Taiyuan Dynasty, the Northern Frontier Army marched home victorious, and all of Dayuan's forces came back to the capital to receive honors.

Except for a portion of troops left behind to garrison, the vast majority of veteran and young generals returned. The Northern Frontier Army marched south from the northern lands, passing along the official roads, with common folk lining the roads to see them off. When the Western Shu Defense Force and the Jiangnan Army returned with the Northern Frontier Army, many old generals shed tears of relief—after this campaign, Dayuan would be secure for a hundred years.

The army pushed all the way to the Central Plains, and when they reached the capital's city gates, Qi Shen led the generals in dismounting before the gate, with Qi Hanzhou following behind.

The officials watched intently. This father-and-son pair returning to court looked just as it had ten years ago—but compared to that decade ago, in this campaign, if Qi Shen's Northern Frontier Army was the shield protecting the realm, then Qi Hanzhou's Northern Expeditionary Army was the spear that struck out. They and their men were the backbone and blade of Dayuan henceforth.

Qi Hanzhou looked up and saw Ying Fusheng leading the officials in welcome at the city gate.

The crown prince stood before the assembled officials, at the Emperor's side.

Over a year apart, his court robes made him appear composed and restrained, majestic and solemn.

Only when their eyes met did something spark—a deep, wordless feeling.

Since their parting in Western Shu, he had gone to the Northern Frontier while the other remained in the capital. Battle reports and secret letters—all they contained were matters of state, not a single word of longing. One worried whether the other was overworking himself; the other fretted whether the first was wounded in the north. To mention such things would only unleash a long, uncontrollable tide of yearning.

As they looked at each other, they tried to read a year's worth of hardship in that brief exchange, only to find that seeing each other safe and sound, the feelings buried deep within grew wild and unrestrained.

Ying Fusheng thought to himself: this was the blade he had obtained, his invincible general, and his hawk.

Today was a return to court—and a return to the nest.