FYM - 77

…That was the beginning of everything falling apart.

The imperial army had no choice but to build a wall of flesh and blood from east of the Helan Mountains to Shengzhou Yulin, all to withstand enemy harassment and buy time for civilians to retreat south. But when the Guannei Army defied orders and rushed toward Liangu, it left the southern gates of Mount Monar wide open and unprotected. No matter how valiantly the Yingchuan Army in the northwest fought, the Turks could now sweep through the eastern gap and slaughter innocent civilians.

By the time the news reached Youzhou, half a day had already passed. Everyone saw the sudden change in Lord Fang’s expression—like a storm approaching silently before the thunder struck.

From afar, Song Mingzhen, stationed with the right-wing cavalry, gazed toward the central command. His view was obstructed by the crowd, and he couldn’t see his third brother’s face clearly. He only noticed Fang Yuncong nearby, his brows furrowed and his pale complexion heightening the sense of panic. Moments later, Fang Yuncong suddenly turned his horse and galloped toward the central command. Moved by instinct, Song Mingzhen followed. By the time he reined in his horse, he saw the Divine Strategy Army standing ready, their killing intent palpable. Perhaps…

“Is the general going to personally reinforce the southeastern front?”

Fang Yuncong urgently questioned, his expression uncharacteristically agitated as he looked at Fang Xianting. The latter, however, remained impassive, issuing orders to his deputy generals before finally turning to his older cousin. His gaze was harder than the rolling sands of the northern frontier as he calmly replied, “I’ll take ten thousand troops and ride ahead to reinforce the area. General Fang Hao will oversee the northwestern line. The right-wing cavalry can arrive at Dejing in Xiachou half a day later to protect the civilians. Ignore all other matters.”

He spoke hastily, his tone unnervingly steady, as if unaware of the immense risks involved. The Guannei Army originally numbered one hundred thousand, but most had been redeployed by Lou Xiao, who was obsessed with capturing the so-called rebel king at Liangu. Even with the Divine Strategy Army’s prowess, how could they possibly fill such a massive void after a long march?

…But what else could he do?

There were still tens of thousands of civilians stranded north of the Wu River, defenseless and fragile. If they encountered the Turkic cavalry, the outcome would be catastrophic. Huaiyuan had just been massacred, and the stench of blood lingered for half a month. To foreign invaders, human lives were no different from pigs or dogs. But to the Fang family, every life was precious.

They had pleaded with him so earnestly, seeing the Fang banner as their last hope… How could he stand idly by and do nothing?

“What if the Divine Strategy Army cannot hold back the enemy—”

Fang Yuncong loudly interjected.

“Lou Xiao’s withdrawal has surely reached the Turks’ ears—the enemy forces will outnumber you several times over! When the Divine Strategy Army is isolated deep within enemy territory, and the flanks are unable to provide reinforcements… What will you do?”

“Yi Zhi… The Fang family cannot go a single day without its lord, nor can the three armies go a single day without their commander!”

—What truly mattered most?

Were the tens of thousands of innocent lives north of the Wu River? Or was it the Fang lord, who commanded legions amidst national crisis?

Perhaps no one could say for sure. The balance of pros and cons was difficult to measure. Even when the late Duke sacrificed himself for the Crown Prince, it had drawn countless criticisms… “Do not look back, and do not seek answers elsewhere.” The final words of advice from his late father, tinged with the scent of wine, echoed once more in Fang Xianting’s ears. It felt as though countless hands were pulling at him, everyone kneeling before him, begging for even the slightest benefit after he took this arduous step forward.

“I can hold the enemy north of the Salt Lake for two days and send orders for the Lous to return their troops,” he said, ignoring Fang Yuncong’s words entirely, his voice as cold as ice. “Within two days, both flanks must escort all civilians south of the Wu River. The court will send reinforcements. Further arrangements can wait.”

Pausing briefly, his brows furrowed slightly, hesitating before adding, “If the Divine Strategy Army fails this time… instruct Fang Xing to submit a report to the Emperor to begin planning the eastern relocation. With the Xie family holding the north, Luoyang should remain safe for now.”

This…

His words sounded like final instructions. Even Fang Yuncong, and Song Mingzhen, who was usually oblivious to worldly affairs, sensed a hint of farewell. Perhaps the song of parting was never loud or chaotic; sometimes letting go happened in an instant.

“Third Brother—”

He grabbed Fang Xianting’s arm. The armor on his body was cold and hard, making it impossible to feel any trace of warmth from the man beneath.

“I’ll go with you—”

He could only shout at him.

“I’m not afraid of death—and I won’t hold you back—”

Those were reckless words. Such emotional outbursts were inappropriate before a major campaign. But that impulsive cry of “Third Brother” still caused Fang Xianting to turn and look at him. His expression finally softened slightly, like a jade tower about to collapse under a flurry of snow, leaving a profound and unforgettable gentleness.

“Go with Elder Brother.”

He answered him, his voice equally subdued.

“Shuyan is still waiting for you at home.”

“Between you and me… someone has to give her peace of mind.”

…He had mentioned her then.

Just days ago, he refused to read the letter from his sister that Song Mingzhen had delivered. Now, at this critical moment of life and death, he spoke her name. Perhaps he had missed her for a long time but had never allowed himself to voice it, even suppressing thoughts of her when alone.

Those days in Qiantang hadn’t been a dream. He had indeed seen a paradise that made one forget sorrow—lush grass, falling blossoms, level land, and orderly houses. But once he left, no matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t find the way back. Perhaps it wasn’t that the paradise was hard to find—it was just that he was no longer fated to walk further.

“I will do my utmost to defeat the enemy and secure victory. If all goes well, we shall meet again in two days by the Wu River…”

He spoke again, his expression now carrying a faint smile. The small mole at the corner of his right eye, so full of charm, would appear even deeper and gentler if gazing upon the woman he admired.

“But if I cannot… please convey a message to Shuyan for me…”

“Tell her… that I have failed her.”

The yellow sand swirled, the sky darkened like dusk. The Divine Strategy Army galloped across the desolate desert like a black lightning bolt, splitting the bleak landscape in two. Their horses raced forward, knowing the urgency of the situation. The entire army was solemn and prepared, covering over two hundred miles in less than half a day to reach the northern side of the Salt Lake.

Ahead lay Mount Monar. By now, the Turks had likely crossed into the southern foothills. The barren rocks and lack of vegetation exuded a chilling, foreboding aura. The deputy generals spurred their horses forward and addressed Fang Xianting: “General—the path ahead leads to Shangxiao Valley.”

Fang Xianting lowered his eyes to study the map. Though the depth of the valley wasn’t clear, he still harbored doubts. If the supposed traces of the rebel king were merely a ruse to lure them away, then the enemy would likely ambush them along the central route. Shangxiao Valley, nestled among the mountains, was an ideal place for a bloody siege.

His brows furrowed slightly, his voice cold and resolute: “Scouts, proceed cautiously.”

The deputy generals complied, dispatching scouts ahead to investigate. In the meantime, they respectfully addressed Fang Xianting: “Shangxiao Valley lies along a crucial route. Passing through it leads directly to the southern foothills of Mount Monar. Detouring would cost us half a day…”

Every moment was precious. The sooner they engaged the enemy, the safer the civilians behind them would be. Fang Xianting’s brows tightened further, his eyes reflecting hesitation. Just then, a sharp glint flashed ahead, followed by the sound of an arrow slicing through the air. Battle-honed instincts honed over months of warfare prompted him to swiftly draw a sword from a nearby deputy’s waist. Without hesitation, he pulled the reins, raised his horse, and swung the sword, deflecting the arrow. By the time everyone snapped back to attention, the broken arrow had sunk into the sand.

Zhuoying whinnied in alarm, and sweat dripped from the deputies on either side. Only Fang Xianting remained composed, lifting his gaze to the distance. Amidst the jagged rocks, the cold glint of weapons and armor began to shimmer. Turning back, he saw a dense mass of Turkic cavalry emerging through the rolling sands, steadily advancing toward them. The hunting ground for slaughter had been silently set. This place would soon become a living hell.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. From behind the rocks ahead came a burst of arrogant laughter, echoing through the gloomy autumn sky like the unpredictable wrath of gods, evoking unease.

“So, this is the new lord of the Fang family—Fang Yi Zhi. You truly surpass your father—”

The speaker finally revealed himself slowly. It was none other than Zhong He, the leader of the Zhong faction, riding down the mountain with his rebels. Beside him stood a figure both familiar and unfamiliar—the so-called rebel king Wei Zheng, whose reported appearance at Liangu had driven Lou Xiao to pursue him relentlessly.

Wei Zheng…

Since the Fang family fled Chang’an in the first year of Yuanzhang, Fang Xianting hadn’t seen this second son of the late emperor in nearly three years. Even since the rebellion began in the first month of Taiqing, this rebel king had always remained hidden. Now, meeting again under such drastically changed circumstances, they were no longer childhood companions practicing swordsmanship in the Duke’s mansion or opposing figures in the imperial court. They were now mortal enemies destined to fight to the death in this wilderness.

—He had changed so much.

During the winter hunt at Mount Li in the seventh year of Yuanzhang, he had been spirited and vibrant. Now, years later, he had become gaunt and unremarkable. He was shockingly thin, his back slightly stooped. His deep-set eyes, already resembling those of a nomad, were shadowed by his hollowed cheeks. A scruffy beard added to his disheveled appearance, and streaks of gray were visible in his temples. Perhaps these years had been difficult for him too. The taste of rebellion and being reviled by the world was surely bitter.

“…Your Highness.”

Fang Xianting bypassed Zhong He and looked directly at him, his gaze layered with complex emotions. Wei Zheng also raised his eyes to meet his. At that moment, his cracked lips trembled slightly.

“‘Your Highness’?”

It was Zhong He who interjected, perhaps irritated by Fang Xianting’s disregard. His tone carried a note of anger and mockery.

“The Fang family of Yingchuan has always prided itself on righteousness and loyalty. Why are you still showing respect to a ‘rebel minister’ of the court? Have you finally realized that Wei Qin is nothing but a traitor who murdered his father to seize the throne, and that the Prince of Qin is the true dragon destined to rule?”

The wind howled, and yellow sand swirled. Distant thunder rumbled intermittently in the clouds above. Yet Fang Xianting’s gaze remained fixed on Wei Zheng, heavy as a thousand weights, far more piercing than the distant thunder.

“The current Emperor was personally designated as Crown Prince by the late Emperor. His ascension to the throne is the natural order. The accusations of patricide and usurpation are baseless fabrications meant to deceive. You need not try to intimidate us with empty threats.”

He paused, his voice growing deeper, his expression increasingly solemn. “His Majesty adheres to the path of righteousness and filial piety. He understands that Your Highness was misled by wicked men into committing this grave error. If you surrender now, you will be shown leniency, allowing you to atone for your sins before the ancestral temple and redeem yourself in the eyes of the people. I urge Your Highness to reconsider carefully.”