"Thwack!" An arrow, shot with immense force, pierced the neck guard of Yan Zuo Wei Great General Pu Yijian's armor. Its momentum unabated, it sliced through his throat like soft tofu, burying itself up to the fletching.
A spray of fresh blood erupted, scattering in the air. Pu Yijian, the foremost archer of the Great Yan, his face contorted in extreme, bewildered agony, desperately clutched at his gushing throat, trying in vain to stem the flow.
Moments later, Pu Yijian's stout, short body tumbled from his horse, hitting the ground with a "thump" that kicked up a foot of dust. His form convulsed a few times within the dust cloud, and he was dead.
Meanwhile, Zhou Fugui stood firm, gripping the Moon-Chasing Bow, and coolly watched Pu Yijian’s dying struggles.
If Zhou Fugui’s opening move had been a strategy to disrupt the enemy, this was now a stratagem of deception.
Pu Yijian wore the finely crafted Ming Guang Liang armor, while Zhou Fugui was protected by the even superior "Ao Long Tian Can Zi Jin Bao Jia." Murong Huiying, blinded by worry, had forgotten that she herself had gifted Zhou Fugui this soft armor. Thus, upon seeing Zhou Fugui struck by an arrow, she was overcome with grief.
Consequently, just like Pu Yijian, Zhou Fugui would have been unharmed unless struck in a vital area like the throat or face.
The revolving arrow that struck Zhou Fugui, causing him to fall from his horse, was actually Zhou Fugui enduring the excruciating pain in his chest and back as he leaped from his steed. He then loosed a fatal arrow mid-air, striking the throat of the overly triumphant Pu Yijian.
It is when people are most complacent and carried away that they are also most vulnerable.
In this battle, Zhou Fugui employed strategies of disruption and deception, and with the protection of the "Ao Long Tian Can Zi Jin Bao Jia," he achieved victory. Nevertheless, Zhou Fugui's courage, mettle, wisdom, perhaps cunning, and exquisite archery were still breathtaking.
Zhou Fugui turned his gaze towards the assembled Yan royalty, clansmen, officials, and dignitaries in the training ground. Slowly, he raised the Moon-Chasing Bow in his hand.
"Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!"
"Butler! Butler! Butler!"
"Great Yan's Yang Youji! Great Yan's Yang Youji! Great Yan's Yang Youji!"
From within the training ground, a thunderous roar of cheers and accolades erupted.
The martial competition in the training ground, with its twists and turns and perilous moments, was akin to a grand drama, even surpassing one in its thrilling, heart-stopping, and soul-stirring intensity. Everyone's hearts had been in their mouths.
Zhou Fugui, the Commandant of Yanmen and General of the White Tiger Battalion of Great Yan, thus acquired an esteemed moniker: "Great Yan's Yang Youji." His fame spread throughout Youzhou, across all of Yan, and indeed throughout the land.
Even in the Spring and Autumn period, the legendary archer Yang Youji's name had resonated across the steppes.
...
"A true tiger general!" In the Yan palace, Emperor Murong Xi of Yan, drinking heavily, praised Zhou Fugui with immense relish.
Murong Xi, initially indifferent, was now utterly fascinated by Zhou Fugui. After the training ground competition concluded, he had summoned the Left Virtuous King Murong Bole to drink with him.
Murong Xi’s wine cup seemed permanently attached to his hand, as if he could never get enough.
"Left Virtuous King..." Murong Xi then said to Murong Bole, "When I was young, I was nowhere near his caliber. What do you think, compared to you?"
Both Murong Bole and Murong Xi had been valiant warriors among the Xianbei in their youth, formidable generals of Great Yan. However, after Murong Bole and his faction placed Murong Xi on the throne, Murong Xi had indulged in wine and women. Now, he was excessively obese and afflicted with numerous ailments, long unable to draw a bow or mount a horse. He could only drink incessantly to suppress or numb his physical pain.
"Great Chanyu..." Murong Bole smiled slightly and replied, "Bole also feels inferior."
In their youth, when it came to archery and horsemanship, Murong Bole was confident that he was superior to Zhou Fugui, or at least his equal. However, in terms of courage and cunning, especially cunning, Murong Bole felt he was inferior to Zhou Fugui.
"Hmm..." Murong Xi glanced at Murong Bole, trying to discern if his words were mere modesty or genuine admission of inferiority.
"I wish to employ this man, but alas, he is a Han," Murong Xi then said to Murong Bole.
"The Great Chanyu speaks wisely. Let us observe further," Murong Bole nodded.
The saying goes, "Those not of our kind will surely have different hearts." Murong Bole was unsure of Zhou Fugui's true intentions, whether he could sincerely serve Great Yan.
If he were to marry Yingying to him, would he then be truly loyal? The thought suddenly struck Murong Bole.
"The Left Virtuous King's words always resonate with this Chanyu," Murong Xi nodded. "Bole, the Right Virtuous King is gravely ill, and our Great Yan is entering a troubled period! Is the Right Virtuous King's injury truly so severe?"
"Yes, Great Chanyu, there is no falsehood in this matter," Murong Bole replied.
If you care so much, why not visit him personally? Visiting and comforting the Right Virtuous King Murong Wang would surely bring solace to him and his family, rather than you merely indulging in pleasures within the palace, causing Murong Wang and his kin to feel disheartened.
Regardless, the Right Virtuous King Murong Wang is also your father-in-law. Murong Bole thought with some dissatisfaction.
Murong Bole was in contention with Murong Wang, but Murong Wang was also a founding hero of Great Yan, having fought countless battles for the nation. Yet now, injured from battle, Murong Xi paid him no heed, never once visiting him. This naturally evoked a sense of shared fate in Murong Bole.
"With the Right Virtuous King gravely ill, the nation's affairs will rest upon your shoulders," Murong Xi sighed. "The army has recently suffered defeat, and morale is low. The Xia army will undoubtedly counterattack, and the Zhao slaves will also take the opportunity to invade. Bole, how do you believe we should respond currently?"
Although Murong Xi indulged in wine and women, he was not ignorant of Great Yan's national affairs; on the contrary, he was remarkably clear-headed.
Following the Battle of Niuzhu, the Yan army suffered a crushing defeat. Yet, some reported it as a great victory, distorting facts and painting a false picture of peace.
Murong Xi was not so easily deceived. He knew clearly that the campaign south had been a defeat for the Yan army. Otherwise, where would the prisoners of war be, especially the noble captives from the southern dynasties? Murong Bole would not have rushed back in such haste for imperial orders.
"The Great Chanyu is wise!" Murong Bole, who had been struggling with how to report on the Yan-Xia situation, felt a sense of relief upon hearing Murong Xi mention it. "Your subject believes we should first seek peace with the south and then focus on the western campaign."
"Bole, you and I are brothers. On the grasslands back then, you were my Aha. There's no need to refer to yourself as a subject," Murong Xi said to Murong Bole.
"Your humble subject dares not!" Murong Bole quickly rose and bowed.
"Bole Aha, please sit and speak," Murong Xi smiled and waved. "Peace with the south and then the west? Explain."
"The southern barbarians rely on the advantages of mountains and rivers, making them difficult to conquer in a short time. It would be better to negotiate peace with them first. Once the rebellion of the Zhao slaves is quelled, then we can march south to Jiangzuo without delay," Murong Bole replied after sitting down.
"You mean..." Murong Xi drained his wine cup again and asked with a frown, "To sue for peace?"
"Not to sue for peace, but to negotiate it," Murong Bole shook his head. "Although the southern dynasty has won a battle, their losses are not insignificant. Moreover, after years of warfare, the south is already riddled with holes. They are also eager for peace. Therefore, if our Great Yan wishes for peace now, we must wait for them to seek it, so that we can gain the greatest advantage."
"And if the south does not send envoys, then what?" Murong Xi asked.
"If they do not send envoys, we continue to fight them until they are forced to seek peace," Murong Bole stated calmly yet firmly. "In the Battle of Niuzhu, most of the army's losses were among the Han troops. Our Great Yan's cavalry suffered minimal damage, and our strength is not greatly diminished. Furthermore, once we cross the Yangtze River, will the southern forces be a match for our Great Yan cavalry?"
"Haha, indeed, older ginger is spicier!" Murong Xi felt greatly reassured. He reached for his wine cup again, only to find it empty.
"You scoundrel, why are you not pouring wine?" Murong Xi suddenly became enraged, smashing the wine cup onto the table.
"Great Chanyu, this... this servant... the Great Chanyu has drunk a great deal today. The Great Chanyu's health is paramount," a eunuch named Tu Zhen said, scrambling over.
"Take him away and whip him a hundred times." Tu Zhen's words only made things worse. If he had poured the wine and offered a few more pleas, Murong Xi might have spared him. But the more he spoke, the more agitated Murong Xi became, thus he issued the order.
The palace guards dragged the pleading Tu Zhen away.
A hundred lashes, while not excessively severe—Zhou Fugui himself had once endured a hundred horsewhip lashes—was not light either, depending on the executioner's severity.
Two other eunuchs approached and tremblingly refilled Murong Xi's wine cup with fine wine.
"Bole Aha..." Murong Xi, as if nothing had happened, continued drinking and said to Murong Bole, "The Right Virtuous King is gravely ill, and the nation's affairs will be entrusted to you. Alas, Bole Aha, national affairs are as numerous as ox hairs, burdening you so much. How can my heart bear it? Let Tuoba Litu share some of the burden with you."
"The Great Chanyu's consideration is thorough!" Murong Bole nodded in agreement.
Still not entirely at ease, Murong Bole sighed inwardly. To speak of sharing the burden was merely to have his confidant Tuoba Litu monitor him.
"Pu Yijian..." Murong Xi then asked, "To have died in the training ground... Bole Aha, after his death, who can be appointed as the head of the Zhongjie Army?"
If Zhou Fugui were a Xianbei, with no current power base or alliances, a man without background, and was brave and skilled in battle, he would be the ideal candidate.
Young and without a background, Murong Xi would have felt secure employing him. It was a pity that Zhou Fugui was a Han, thus losing this golden opportunity.
"The Zhongjie Army is the Great Chanyu's personal guard. Its leader should be a trustworthy individual," Murong Bole replied without directly answering, but his implication was clear: since you trust me the most now, you can completely select someone from among my trusted confidants.