Chapter Twenty-Six: The Veteran

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After confirming the death of the Snow Phantom King, Chen Qingwei greeted the grieving generals and departed from Hengguan, heading for Luoshui City. At that moment, the generals were too consumed by sorrow to pay him much mind, and besides, they knew that the two brothers of the Chen family fought in perfect harmony. They assumed Chen Qingwei was acting for the greater good, seeking to unleash his fullest fighting potential.

Within Chen Qingwei, excitement and unease wrestled. The plan was half executed—Snow Phantom King was dead, leaving only one target. Once this last task was accomplished, the situation would be settled; Lin Yukong would rule Snow Country, and he himself would stand high above all others, second only to the sovereign. Yet now, his actions had gone beyond mere betrayal of the nation, amounting to betrayal of his own people. Outwardly, he appeared calm, but inwardly he was deeply anxious.

Nevertheless, in times like these, the ranks of passionate defenders of justice still prevailed. From nobles and generals to common folk, all eyes were fixed on the western reaches of Wangmai, where three battle lines converged. Feng Jing, the commander guarding Tuoyu, upon hearing of the Snow Phantom King's demise, immediately resolved to lead his troops to Hengguan. His orders had been to support the Snow Phantom King as needed, but now that the king had fallen, Feng Jing could no longer remain idle.

No sooner had Feng Jing arrived at Hengguan than a courier dispatched by the Snow Emperor galloped in, naming Feng Jing as the supreme commander of Hengguan and instructing him to ensure Lin Yuluo’s death.

In terms of rank, Feng Jing held a second-class military post, higher than any of the generals then present at Hengguan, so his appointment as commander was met without objection.

This time, Feng Jing brought all twenty thousand troops available from Tuoyu, determined to avenge the Snow Phantom King with a great battle.

Upon the ramparts of Hengguan,

“Generals, I intend to launch a swift engagement. What say you?” Feng Jing stood with hands clasped behind his back, the resolve in his eyes almost palpable, directed straight at the Yan army’s encampment.

His words sparked both dissent and approval.

“Commander, our forces are equal to the Yan army. Holding Hengguan will ensure no mishap—why risk a direct confrontation?”

“Commander, I believe we should. The prince has just fallen; we need a decisive victory to dampen the Yan army’s spirit!”

The art of war states: only when outnumbering the enemy threefold should one storm a fortress. Both sides now commanded around a hundred thousand troops—perhaps the Yan clan had slightly more, but certainly not three times as many, not even one and a half times. Thus, cautious generals favored holding the city, the safest strategy, virtually impregnable, and no army would bypass such a stronghold to penetrate Snow Country’s territory.

Yet most of the gathered generals favored engagement—not out of an abundance of hawkishness, but because they understood exactly who Commander Feng was. Those wavering were swayed by this, and so only a minority insisted on defense.

There had been two candidates for Marshal-in-Chief in former days: the youthful Ye Linhui and the more seasoned Feng Jing. In single combat, Feng Jing might have lost to Ye Linhui, but in warfare, Ye Linhui could not match the ferocity of Commander Feng. The world knew Feng Jing to be a straightforward tactician; if he could fight head-on, he would. The legendary cavalry recently retired was trained by Feng Jing himself. During war with Xia, he once led his own cavalry—five thousand strong—against an army of twenty thousand, and won. When the late emperor asked if he’d used any clever stratagem, Feng Jing replied, “I’ve barely read two books on military tactics—I don’t know any tricks!”

Such methods were indeed fierce, but not always victorious. That astonishing triumph of few over many owed itself partly to the natural advantage of cavalry over infantry, and partly to the incompetence of Xia’s commander, whose twenty thousand troops scattered like sand, easily routed.

Ye Linhui’s command was more measured and prudent, which is why the marshal’s mantle fell to him, while Feng Jing took up the post at Tuoyu.

Feng Jing bore no resentment for this; he knew his approach was not suited to overall command.

Regarding the current conflict, Feng Jing had his own designs. He, like Zi Jie, sought to make this the turning point of the Wang-Yan war. The near equality of forces seemed, to him, the best possible circumstance.

The next day, a Snow Country soldier rode at a leisurely pace to the Yan camp.

The Yan soldiers atop the palisade did not attack; the lone rider was clearly not there to fight, and to strike would be cowardly—who fights one man?

Once the Snow soldier declared his intent, Lin Yuluo readily agreed to the engagement, scheduling the decisive battle for that afternoon.

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That afternoon, at the center of the plain before Hengguan, a makeshift platform had been erected. Upon it sat Feng Jing, an old general in white armor, over fifty years of age, and Lin Yuluo, resplendent in black armor and full of youthful vigor. Behind each stood their respective officers.

“May I ask how to address the old general?” With both seated, it was Lin Yuluo, as the younger, who spoke first.

Feng Jing stroked his beard, traces of years still showing the courage of his youth. “I am Feng Jing,” he announced, his aged voice imbued with authority.

Lin Yuluo saluted with a fist and palm: “I see. I, the junior—”

Feng Jing waved him off: “No need. I am well aware of Lin Yuluo, one of the Three Commanders of the Yan clan.” This title was Feng Jing’s polite embellishment; in Wangmai, the common term for Feng Xiaoyang, Lin Yufei, and Lin Yuluo was actually “The Three Demons of Yan.”

Lin Yuluo, interrupted, paused momentarily, then chuckled lightly: “The Three Commanders of Yan? Hahaha… You are too kind.”

Feng Jing regarded the fire in Lin Yuluo’s eyes with cold detachment, recognizing it as the battle spirit of a true Yan clansman, sensing the man’s readiness for combat. He thought, “At my age, should I let this arrogant youth fool me with his bravado?” But deciding to take the opportunity to unsettle him, Feng Jing said,

“Young general, when I say ‘commander,’ I am referring to the official cap upon your head, not the visage you hide from me, exposing instead your hindquarters.” (A crude jest: “hindquarters” refers to a pig’s rear.)

“Pfft—” Several Yan officers could barely suppress their laughter.

“Hahahaha…” The Snow Country officers burst out in raucous laughter.

Lin Yuluo’s handsome face contorted with fury. After several deep breaths, he gritted his teeth and said, “You old bastard, save your sharp tongue. When shall the engagement take place?”

Feng Jing sneered, “Running out of patience already? Hmph, very well. Let it be tomorrow.” Lin Yuluo, unable to restrain himself, prompted Feng Jing to drop all pretense, his gaze now sharp as blades.

Lin Yuluo felt this, the fire in his eyes burning brighter. “Old man, does this mean you’re itching to start right now?”

Feng Jing did not look at Lin Yuluo again. He stood, preparing to leave the platform, his white cloak billowing in the wind, sketching the silhouette of a young, valiant warrior clad in purple armor.

And the same aged, authoritative voice left one last remark for Lin Yuluo:

“The Snow Phantom King’s corpse is still warm; tomorrow I’ll need your head, so that on the seventh day I may answer to him.”

The calm tone made it sound as if he were stating an unquestioned fact.

Lin Yuluo retorted, “Old fool, the Snow Phantom King may indeed require a fellow warrior’s head to accompany him.”

Yet in terms of bearing, he still fell short of the seasoned veteran. Only when the Snow Country officers departed with Feng Jing did Lin Yuluo notice that on the left arm of every Snow officer, including Feng Jing, a strip of white cloth was tied to their armor.

Luoshui City, military tent.

“General Chen?” Ye Linhui, reading military treatises, glanced in surprise at Chen Qingwei.

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Chen Qingwei saluted: “Commander Ye! I am uneasy about Qingyue, so I hurried here to fight alongside him.”

Ye Linhui frowned. When Chen Qingyue arrived, he brought only a few hundred men, which puzzled Ye Linhui; he could not fathom the purpose. As for high-ranking officers, truth be told, Ye Linhui found his own generals in the Ye army more reliable. Moreover, since Chen Qingyue’s arrival, he had advocated for aggressive action, making Ye Linhui suspect he had been possessed by Feng Jing.

Now, Chen Qingwei had come alone to Luoshui City, and Ye Linhui had not received a single word about it.

“Why was I not informed of your arrival?”

Chen Qingwei replied, “There was no one in command at Hengguan when I left; Commander Feng had not yet arrived.”

Ye Linhui found this explanation barely satisfactory and regarded Chen Qingwei intently, making him feel a bit guilty. However, Ye Linhui could find no grounds for suspicion and thus let the matter drop.

“Very well. You may go.” “Yes, sir.”

Shunxing City, Ye residence.

“Yezi,” Yue Zhe said, “Have your internal injuries not healed? I’m still waiting for you to help me experience that inner force.”

Ye Pei replied, “Give it a little more time, it'll be fine. Why are you so impatient? By the way, where’s your father?”

Yue Zhe laughed: “Ah, wherever your father is, mine follows.”

Ye Pei blinked: “Ah? Your father is in Luoshui City?”

Yue Zhe grinned: “Exactly. Though he lacks any standing to help your father in battle. He told me he had nowhere else to go, so he'd rather soak in the atmosphere of war. That’s why he and my mother came here after all.”

Ye Pei said, “I see… Speaking of which, the day after tomorrow marks the seventh day for Snow Phantom King.”

Yue Zhe’s expression dimmed at her words: “What a pity for such a talent. Did you visit the prince’s residence that day…?”

Ye Pei shook her head: “Don’t mention it. My sister-in-law didn’t know yet, she welcomed me cheerfully and served me tea. In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to break the news to her. When she asked why I seemed unhappy, I excused it as unhealed injuries. I wonder if she knows now.”

Yue Zhe sighed: “I suppose she must have heard by now. The news is everywhere; how could she not catch wind of it?”

Ye Pei nodded slightly.

“War…”