FYM - 73

That was indeed the most grueling and prolonged battle since the founding of the Zhou dynasty.

The imperial army, under the command of General Lou Xiao, split into two fronts: north and south. The northern front engaged in a stalemate with the rebels, with both sides trading victories and defeats. By the end of May, they finally captured Shanzhou and pushed deep into Longyou. The rebels fought desperately; every man, woman, and child in Longyou was conscripted, swelling their ranks from 200,000 to 350,000. The frontlines were awash with blood, a scene straight out of Avici Hell—utterly horrific.

In contrast, the southern front advanced triumphantly. The commander there was the new head of the Fang family. The Yingchuan army moved swiftly and decisively, their attacks unstoppable. The hastily assembled militia on the enemy side stood no chance against their might. The disparity between the two forces was immediately apparent. By early April, the western Shan’nan Circuit had been brought back under imperial control, and preparations were made to march westward to join forces with the northern army.

However, the imperial treasury was strained, and by May, supplies had not yet arrived, leaving the main army stranded and unable to maneuver effectively. The Fang family’s troops were known for their strict discipline, never allowing soldiers to plunder civilian property. With no other options, they negotiated aid from Jiannan Circuit, though this came with its own set of challenges.

The Zhong faction, composed of former high-ranking officials, especially Wei Zheng and Zhong He, knew well the emptiness of the national coffers and the court’s struggles. They focused their efforts on disrupting the supply lines of the imperial army. These supply routes were guarded by General Lou Feng, the eldest son of General Lou Xiao, and were supposed to be secure as a mountain. Alas, the enemy was exceedingly cunning, repeatedly launching surprise attacks and harassment. After several fierce battles, the supply lines were at risk of falling. Fortunately, reinforcements from the southern Yingchuan army arrived just in time, temporarily averting disaster and ensuring that the combined forces of 250,000 troops in the north and south did not go hungry.

By July, the conflict had devolved into a protracted war. General Lou Xiao’s steady and methodical approach was reliable, but the longer the campaign dragged on, the more acute the shortages of food and supplies became. Moreover, the terrain of Longyou differed significantly from the maps, often catching the imperial army off guard and preventing them from advancing quickly. The Northern Protectorate seemed impossibly distant, no matter how hard they tried to reach it.

The Central Plains also began to show signs of fatigue. The new emperor had ascended the throne only recently, and his authority, both within and outside the court, was still insufficient. With the war dragging on, taxes had to be increased to fund the military effort, leading to widespread discontent among the populace. The so-called prosperous era was like a mirage, shattering at the slightest touch of warfare. The seemingly stable reign of Emperor Ruizong turned out to be nothing more than a facade, with accumulated contradictions and decay slowly exposed since the first year of Taqing.

For the Zhong faction, the situation was equally precarious.

Longyou was vast but barren, and the war had left nine out of ten households empty. Talk of stabilizing the populace was wishful thinking. The situation on both the northern and southern fronts was dire, especially with Fang Xianting—perhaps a reincarnation of a martial deity—employing tactics even more cunning than his father’s. He routed Wu Huaimin’s forces, driving them back in disarray, nearly reaching Shazhou.

Wei Zheng himself had led reinforcements to the southern front earlier in the season, but within half a month, he was driven back west of Yumen Pass by the Yingchuan army. His retreat was chaotic, with his forces abandoning equipment and fleeing day and night. He barely escaped back to the Northern Protectorate. Despite the endless expanse of desert and sky, his heart felt an inexplicable chill, as if he were cornered in a dead-end alley, with no light in sight.

—How much longer could they hold out?

One month?

Two months?

If the imperial army no longer faced supply issues, then…

The words “defeat” suddenly loomed before him, followed by a cascade of brutal consequences that sent shivers down his spine. In the midst of chaos, Wei Zheng sat alone in a small room in the Protectorate’s headquarters. The once handsome and resolute face had been worn down by the trials of the past six months, almost beyond recognition.

“General—”

Just as he was lost in thought, there was a noise outside the door. Startled, he leapt up, his right hand instinctively reaching for the sword at his waist. As the narrow door opened, revealing a figure covered in dust and fatigue, it was unmistakably his uncle, Zhong He.

“Your Highness…”

The former governor of two circuits frowned slightly as he looked at his nephew.

Wei Zheng, who had tensed up and broken out in a cold sweat, collapsed onto a chair, his mind reeling. Zhong He’s brow furrowed even more as he sat down beside him and personally poured him a cup of hot tea.

“Why has Uncle returned to Beitang…”

Wei Zheng drained the tea in one gulp, his trembling fingers setting the cup down.

“Could it be that the northern front…”

Fear of defeat had already taken a toll on his resolve. Zhong He shook his head silently, his voice firm and unyielding.

“Lou Xiao doesn’t have the capability to break through our defenses. Ji’er is holding the line. I’ve come to discuss something important with you.”

Hearing that the front was temporarily secure, Wei Zheng relaxed slightly, exhaling before asking, “What is it?”

Zhong He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes, strikingly similar to those of a nomadic tribesman, narrowed as he looked at Wei Zheng, his expression cold and solemn.

“Having fought in the southern front yourself, you should know the current situation,” he said slowly, each word landing heavily. “The Fang and Lou families are advancing fiercely. Our forces from the three garrisons are no match for them. If this continues, Beitang will fall within three months.”

—Did Wei Zheng not already know this?

Even with years of secret preparation by his uncle, they couldn’t withstand the exceptional ferocity of the Yingchuan cavalry. He had long accepted the inevitability of defeat, and their current resistance was merely self-deception.

His face pale, Wei Zheng looked at his uncle with growing weakness, resembling the frail crown prince he had always despised. He asked, “What does Uncle suggest?”

Zhong He stared intently into his eyes, like a lone wolf in the desert, claws bared—only one leader could rule the pack, and perhaps fate had already decided the outcome.

“We cannot afford to lose.”

His voice was cold and ruthless, his eyes tinged with blood.

“Rather than sitting idly by and waiting for execution, we should…”

“…Seek aid from the Turks.”

Crack—

The teacup in his hand shattered suddenly, shards embedding deeply into his palm. The scent of blood rose slowly, mingling with the cold sweat drenching his inner garments.

“You’re mad—” his pupils dilated sharply, like a dying beast caught by the throat. “That’s treason—”

…Seek aid from the Turks?

Preposterous!

For a hundred years, the Zhou dynasty had fought bitterly with the Turks, their enmity irreconcilable. Countless innocent civilians had perished under their blades, and countless soldiers had died defending the nation. It was only twenty years ago, when Lord Fang He achieved a great victory at Mang Mountain, that these barbarians were driven from their homeland. The Turkic empire had since split into eastern and western khanates, granting the Zhou dynasty over a decade of precious peace.

To ally with the Turks… what face would they have to show their ancestors and the common people?

“What does it matter if it’s treason!”

Zhong He’s voice suddenly rose, like a snarling wolf ready to pounce and tear out someone’s throat.

“Are we just going to surrender? Let Fang Xianting drag us back to Chang’an in disgrace?”

“Wei Qin will kill you—he’ll exterminate the entire Zhong family—”

“Your mother is already dead! Your father was killed by him! Have you forgotten all this—Are you willing to die in vain, mocked by the world—”

Each question cut like a knife, leaving Wei Zheng speechless. Zhong He pressed on, each word a blade piercing his heart.

“Do you know how many of our soldiers from Longyou have died at the hands of the Fang and Lou families?”

“They were someone’s sons, husbands, fathers! They had families!”

“Did they die for themselves?”

“No! They died for you—”

“For your throne! For your ambition! For your dream of ruling the world!”

“Are you going to let them die in vain?”

“Let the countless bones beneath the yellow sand despair?”

He…

“But they’re barbarians…”

Wei Zheng’s voice had dropped, his eyes bloodshot.

“Those not of our kind are inherently different… They will destroy the Zhou dynasty…”

“Barbarians?”

Zhong He sneered, his tone condescending and indifferent.

“What defines a barbarian? What defines a Han Chinese?”

“In this world, there are only two kinds of people—the victors and the defeated.”

“Do you think the greatest threat to us now is the barbarians?”

“It’s your half-brother in Chang’an! It’s Fang Xianting and Lou Xiao east of Yumen Pass!”

“To ally with a tiger is not ideal… But if it can save you, me, and the entire Zhong family, why not?”

But—

“Uncle…”

Tears streamed down Wei Zheng’s face, more sorrowful than the blood dripping from his palm.

“That would mean eternal infamy…”

“The world will never forgive traitors who collude with the enemy, let alone with a foreign race wielding the butcher’s knife! Even if we somehow win later, it…”

“If we don’t succeed, we must die honorably—” Zhong He interrupted harshly again, his green eyes appearing even more eerie and terrifying in that moment.

“We have no way out! Who knows what the future holds? All we can do is survive today…”

Wei Zheng trembled even more violently, his resolve on the verge of collapse. Still, he shook his head at Zhong He, initially weak and hesitant, but gradually becoming firmer and stronger.

“No—”

He rose and shouted.

“I may desire the throne and dominion over the four seas, but there are things I will not do—”

“This empire was won by our ancestors at the cost of their lives. How can I destroy it in a single stroke? Not to mention the innocence of the common people! How can we, for our own selfish ambitions, drag millions into the flames of war!”

The small room fell silent, the echo of his anguished cry lingering. Only the heavy scent of blood remained, unrelenting in the air. Zhong He’s eyes finally grew completely cold. For a moment, perhaps a flicker of murderous intent flashed, but he ultimately refrained, considering the situation. The Zhong family’s rebellion needed a righteous justification; supporting Prince Qin was their only path. Without this puppet, the Zhong family would lose its foothold entirely. What then would allow them to be tolerated by the world?

“Your Highness must be exhausted from the campaign…”

He sighed softly, his narrowed pupils resembling a wolf king’s disdainful gaze before drinking blood.

“Tomorrow, I will depart for the Western Turkic Khanate to meet with the Khan. You will remain here in the Protectorate. There’s no need for you to venture out these days…”

He rose coldly, not waiting for Wei Zheng’s response before turning and striding away. With a wave of his hand, armored soldiers entered silently and locked the door behind them. Only then did Wei Zheng realize that nothing in this world truly belonged to him. From the moment they rebelled against Chang’an, he had become utterly alone, destined to wander without refuge for the rest of his life.

“Uncle—”

His voice was a heart-wrenching scream, tears streaming down his face like blood-red flowers blooming at the end of the road, luring him step by step into an abyss of darkness.

“You will regret this…”

“We…”

“…Will all regret this.”