The autumn rain was incessant, never seeming to end, and the rustling downpour chilled the bone.
"Father, Mother, little sister."
A gaunt young man rushed back into the house like a madman. Before he even entered, he saw the corpses strewn haphazardly in the courtyard. He collapsed to his knees in the biting autumn rain and wailed.
The entire Danyang Estate was a scene of carnage, with bodies piled high and rivers of blood. It was almost impossible to stand within its confines.
The young man's surname was Hong, his given name Wuji, and he was the son of the estate master, Hong Biru. He was twenty-four years old this year.
Unlike Yan, Xia typically awarded official titles based on military merit. Xia also followed this practice, but its primary means of entering officialdom were through recommendations, appointments, and summons, particularly for the literati and scholar-officials. This almost completely monopolized the selection of officials in Xia by the powerful clans.
No noble families of low rank, no low-ranking families of power.
The Hong clan was a prominent family in Xia, and Hong Biru's family was a collateral branch. They still had a chance to be recommended by the imperial court, at least to obtain a low-ranking official position. Therefore, Hong Biru had instructed Hong Wuji from childhood to cultivate virtue and study diligently, in preparation for the Xia imperial court's recommendation for filial piety and scholarship, and subsequently entering officialdom. However, Hong Wuji had been restless and unruly since childhood, enjoying street performances and entertainment. When the imperial court held its recommendations at the age of twenty, Hong Wuji failed to be selected, and from then on, his behavior only worsened.
Hong Wuji spent his days indulging in hawk-hunting and dog-leading, calling friends, and idling about. This caused Hong Biru immense headaches. But now, Hong Biru would never have to worry about Hong Wuji again.
Before the incident, Hong Wuji had a brief argument with his father, Hong Biru, and had wandered outside, thus narrowly escaping death. The entire Hong family, except for Hong Wuji, was massacred by the Yan army.
In the ceaseless autumn rain, Hong Wuji's figure appeared exceptionally desolate.
Overwhelmed by fear, rage, and regret, Hong Wuji wept until he fainted. He awoke much later, feeling cold and hungry.
Zhou Fugui!
Amidst the tragedy, in the face of a group of vicious perpetrators, Hong Wuji knew only one person: Zhou Fugui. He remembered only one name, and it was Zhou Fugui's.
After weeping for most of the day, Hong Wuji hastily buried his relatives. Then, wiping away his tears, he found some meager sustenance and drink. With a bundle on his back, he oriented himself in the rain and stumbled southward.
To the south lay the direction of the Xia imperial court; the further south he went, the safer he would be.
......
"Giddy-up... giddy-up... giddy-up..."
"Chieftain Suheba, there's someone ahead!"
"Hmm? Go and see."
"It's a fat sheep!"
"Which dog's eye do you think is seeing a fat sheep? It's just a scrawny one. It won't yield much meat even if we kill it." Kuai Shu Ge.
"Hahahaha!"
As Hong Wuji stumbled along, his feet sinking deep into the mud with each step, a troop of Yan cavalry suddenly galloped up and surrounded him, laughing boisterously and making fun of him.
"Dog thieves! Barbarian thieves! Vile beasts deserving of a thousand cuts!"
At this moment, the sight of his enemies ignited Hong Wuji's fury. He roared and, disregarding everything, pulled a short blade from his embrace, lunging at a Yan cavalryman.
"Ouch, a scrawny sheep trying to fight back before being slaughtered?"
"Hahahaha!"
Hong Wuji could barely walk, let alone attack with a knife. His lunge was clumsy and incredibly slow. The Yan cavalryman easily dodged by pulling on his reins.
Instead, Hong Wuji lost his balance due to his excessive force and fell into the muddy ground. The Yan cavalrymen surrounded him, laughing heartily. They neither killed nor injured him, leaving him to struggle in the mud.
A moment later, a Yan cavalryman threw out a lasso and looped it around Hong Wuji's ankle. He then whipped his horse, which galloped forward, dragging Hong Wuji through the mud.
Hong Wuji's clothes were ripped to shreds, and his back was crisscrossed with wounds from the sharp stones. But he felt no pain from his injuries. Only a profound sense of indignation and suffering filled him. He closed his eyes, wishing only for death.
"Goller, faster! Let us see a kite fly!" a Yan general shouted with laughter.
"Chieftain Suheba, this is clearly a human kite, not a paper one."
"Splat! You talk too much. Once the human skin is dried, isn't it just a kite?"
"Then it becomes a skin kite..."
"Haha, as you command!" The Yan cavalryman dragging Hong Wuji laughed loudly and urged his horse to speed up. Hong Wuji was then dragged along, almost flying.
The Yan cavalrymen chased after Hong Wuji, roaring with laughter and amusement.
"Let him go!"
Just then, hundreds of Yan iron cavalrymen, escorting a woman in purple robes, galloped over. The woman's beautiful brow was slightly furrowed, and she spoke, "Stop!"
"Yes, master!" The Yan soldiers, who had been laughing and playing moments before, now seemed like mice seeing a cat. They all reined in their horses, bowed their heads respectfully from their saddles, and replied.
The cavalryman dragging Hong Wuji also stopped his horse. Hong Wuji, who had been flying in mid-air, landed with a "bang" in the mud and water, his body in unbearable pain, close to fainting.
The woman in purple urged her horse forward. She observed Hong Wuji for a moment from her saddle and then asked, "Southerner?"
Hong Wuji, still partially conscious, looked up at the sound of her voice. Upon seeing the woman's beauty, his head buzzed. His eyes widened, his mouth agape, his lips moved, but no sound emerged.
The woman was a maiden, no older than twenty. Her face was like flawless jade, exquisitely beautiful. Two dark, curved eyebrows framed a pair of shimmering, autumnal eyes. In a blink, two long, dense lashes, like fans, covered those bright, lively eyes, making them sparkle. Her small, lovely red lips were as vibrant and tempting as ripe cherries. Her straight, fair nose twitched slightly. Her smooth, long hair was braided into two long plaits, hanging down her chest from behind her head. Her skin was like congealed fat, and her hands were like tender sprouts. In short, the maiden was beautiful from head to toe, perfectly formed.
The maiden's appearance was like that of a celestial being from the Jade Pool, and her voice was as melodious and clear as a hundred orioles. She was as beautiful as a celestial maiden. Dressed in a dark-patterned, lightly embroidered pale purple leather robe, with a golden-sheathed crescent saber at her waist, she sat tall on her horse, full of heroic spirit, like a purple fox on the grasslands.
Exquisitely beautiful yet spirited and heroic, such a woman was rarely seen in the world. Hong Wuji's face flushed beet red, and he stammered, unable to speak, completely forgetting his physical pain...
"You insolent slave! Master is asking you a question." Seeing Hong Wuji stare blankly for a long time without replying, a Yan cavalryman viciously swung his saber and struck the mud beside Hong Wuji. Mud and water splashed, drenching him.
"Yes... yes, Gaoyou... Danyang... no... it was... it was..." Hong Wuji glanced at the maiden only once, then dared not look at her again. He stammered incoherently, lowering his head to answer.
The maiden gave a disdainful smile, feeling a touch of smugness but mostly contempt.
Everyone who had ever seen the maiden's beauty was as stunned as Hong Wuji, but the maiden always treated them with disdain.
"It's getting late, let's go!" the maiden commanded those around her. She glanced in the direction of the Yan army camp, then spurred her horse onward and galloped away.
Hundreds of Yan iron cavalrymen followed closely, kicking up another cloud of mud and water that drenched the still stunned Hong Wuji.
Who is she? Hong Wuji mused to himself.
......
"Crack!" In the Yan army camp, Zhou Fugui slammed his saber and leather armor onto the desk of Murong Tengge, the commander of the Vanguard Camp.
"What is this?"
Startled, Murong Tengge, who was engrossed in reading battle reports, looked up in bewilderment and asked.
"Commander, may I request to retire from service?" a disheartened Zhou Fugui replied.
"Retire from service?" Murong Tengge almost burst into laughter at the words.
He wanted to retire before he was even twenty? Besides, what was this "retirement from service" in the Great Yan army? Unless it was as a corpse.
"What happened?" Murong Tengge then asked.
"Nothing," Zhou Fugui replied indifferently, his spirit crushed. "It's just that I see no chance of victory in this war."
"Bold! Presumptuous!" Murong Tengge's face darkened, and he reprimanded him. "You, a mere squad leader, dare to speak lightly of warfare? The Great Chieftain has issued strict orders. The Left and Right Governors are personally leading hundreds of thousands of troops, bearing down on the Southern Dynasties with the might of Mount Tai. The rebel forces of the Southern Dynasties are already in disarray. How can you say there is no chance of victory? Zhou Fugui, your words deserve death!"
"Hmph, the might of Mount Tai?" Zhou Fugui scoffed coldly and then sat down, saying, "Have you not heard that a thousand-mile dike can be destroyed by an ant's nest? Today, even if you chop me into seventeen or eighteen pieces, I will still say that, in my opinion, the army appears magnificent, but it has already revealed signs of defeat."
"Hmph, revealed signs of defeat? Why?" Just as Murong Tengge was seething with anger, a male voice suddenly echoed from within the tent.
Murong Tengge turned his head and was greatly startled.
"Great Governor, why have you come here?" Murong Tengge then walked up to the man, placed his hand over his chest, bowed deeply, and asked.
The newcomer was the Left Governor of the Great Yan, the Left Worthy King, and the King of Guanning, Murong Bole, also known as the Left Worthy King of Guanning.
Murong Bole, around forty years of age, had followed the Yan Emperor Taizu in raising troops in Saibei since he was a teenager, for over twenty years.
During these twenty years, Murong Bole had campaigned east and west, south and north, unifying the tribes of Saibei, destroying Xia in the south, and so on. He had destroyed countless kingdoms. Murong Bole had made outstanding contributions to the Great Yan.
Murong Bole was capable of governing the state internally and controlling enemies externally, making decisive victories, possessing the demeanor of an ancient renowned general. He was truly the foremost brave and fierce general of the Great Yan.
Wearing a brocade robe, the powerfully built Murong Bole glanced at Zhou Fugui, then led ten golden-armored guards directly into the large tent and sat on Murong Tengge's seat.
Damn it, who is this divine being? A Yan governor? This is too incredible! Zhou Fugui stared at Murong Bole in astonishment, thinking to himself. The imposing Murong Tengge, who had just reprimanded him, seemed like a sniveling grandson in front of him...
Murong Tengge had already stood up, while Zhou Fugui remained foolishly seated.
Zhou Fugui, this "immortal from beyond the heavens," neither knew nor understood Murong Bole.
It could be said that "ignorance breeds fearlessness," and Zhou Fugui was a prime example of this.