Chapter 14
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Dongze, Luoyan Mountain.
At the foot of the mountain stood the solitary Xiangtan City of Dongze. The lonely city nestled against the rugged mountains, facing a vast plain.
On the plain, the great Xiliang army was advancing in full force toward the city.
On Luoyan Mountain, an elderly man sat hunched on the ridge, his withered hands deftly manipulating a divination array before him. The intricate clinking of hanging bells filled the air as he murmured incantations.
“Swallows fall on the western mountain, heaven’s fire scorches the plains.”
“The white-haired barbarian king, the star falls, his fate sealed.”
“Heaven’s will is thus; destiny cannot be defied.” Suddenly, he raised his head, a sharp gleam flashing in his cloudy eyes. “This is Luoyan Mountain, and today shall be the day the Xiliang King Yan Zhi meets his demise—!”
“Ha ha... ha ha ha...”
The old man was the father of the Xiangtan City governor, a venerable elder of the Dongze Wuhán clan and the famed “Great Divine Seer.” For decades, every prediction he made had come true without fail.
The Xiliang royal family was known for its short-lived reign.
Yet, it was unforeseen that the undefeated, ruthless Xiliang King Yan Zhi would ultimately perish by his hand. Now, there was no doubt—he had set an inescapable trap, and the divination’s outcome was unmistakable.
“See, the life lamp of Xiliang King Yan Zhi has been extinguished.”
“His fate is but a void of ashes.”
No matter how one looked at it, this was an incurable death foretold.
But before his demise, he must endure one or two catastrophic fires.
A triumphant chuckle escaped the elder’s throat.
A few days ago, he had ordered the governor of Xiangtan to feign defeat, dropping helmets and armor while spreading rumors of hidden treasures within the city, all to lure the Xiliang King deep inside and unleash a great blaze that would consume two hundred thousand Xiliang troops.
Beside the elder stood a group of followers clad in armor and plain clothes alike. The people of Dongze were deeply devout in spirits and gods; upon hearing this, they were all filled with exhilaration.
“Today, with Yan’s fall on the mountain, the Xiliang King slain, tomorrow we shall reclaim all of Dongze’s lands!”
“Indeed, it’s the Great Divine Seer who holds the key. What are the Dongze allied forces and Ji Sanyi before the Xiliang rebel? Time and again they’ve been defeated and rendered useless!”
“The Xiliang King dies here today; our names shall be recorded in history.”
“The rebel goes against Heaven’s will; he deserves execution!”
“Long live the Great Divine Seer of Dongze!!!”
Soon, very soon.
The bells atop the divination array rang faster and faster, urgently. Just a little more, a little more urgency, and once the Xiliang army stepped into the city...
“Swish—”
Suddenly, a sharp golden flash cut across everyone’s sight.
Amidst the exclamations, a long Xiliang halberd was thrust into the ground before the elder, its golden dragon-wrapped shaft gleaming in the sunset glow, trembling slightly.
A tall man appeared silently, his long messy silver hair half concealing his face, making it hard to distinguish his features. Only the broad, crimson tribal tattoos sprawling from his shoulder to collarbone were visible, along with a string of sharp wolf’s teeth hanging around his slender jade-colored neck.
It was well known that the Xiliang people dressed boldly and wildly, unlike the Central Plains.
In battle, they often painted their faces blue, disguising their true appearances, resembling a horde of demons freshly unleashed from hell.
Yet this man’s face appeared free of such paint.
His long silver hair fell heavily, showing only the upward curve of lips twisting into a ghostly, amused smile.
“X-Xiliang King...”
The legendary Xiliang King Yan Zhi was said to have sported long silver hair from a young age.
The scattered words from the elder’s divinations had always referred to a “white-haired ghost” or “white-haired barbarian king.”
B-But if this was truly the Xiliang King...
Should he not be caught in the Xiangtan City trap below? Why was he here???
The elder suddenly shuddered.
In the silent woods, where even the wind could be heard, countless eyes surrounded him and his guards. More than a handful of Xiliang soldiers had long been lurking in the forest, each bare-chested, tattooed, and painted, silent and motionless.
A chill crept down his neck.
The golden halberd’s tip, smeared with dirt, pressed against the old man’s nape.
“You are the head of the Wuhán clan?”
The voice was calm, measured, yet carried undeniable force. After he spoke, the forest seemed to grow even quieter. The Wuhán clan guards froze on the spot, none daring to move.
“If you surrender, I guarantee your clan’s safety, and the people of Xiangtan will not suffer from fire.”
The elder trembled.
How could the Xiliang King know of his plan to burn the city before even stepping inside?
“N-No, impossible...”
Impossible. Such a meticulous plan—moreover—
“The star falls, the fate ends; the man is destined to die. My divinations have never erred. The Wuhán clan’s fate is not doomed, but your life lamp is extinguished. Today, you are destined to die!!!”
Before the words finished, a sharp arrow sliced through the air, striking the Xiliang King squarely on the forehead.
The silver-haired man staggered several steps back, pinned against a large tree.
Silence fell.
The elder was stunned, then overjoyed.
“Indeed, fate is sealed... fate is sealed...”
Not far away, on a large rock at the mountain’s foot, a Xiliang woman with floral hairpins and a face painted like a leopard lowered her heavy bow and rolled her eyes.
Leaning against the tree, the Xiliang King finally exhaled, biting the arrow. His messy silver hair obscured his face, but a muttered complaint escaped his lips, “Hongyao, that was too crude.”
On the arrow was tied a blood-stained jade pendant.
The elder recognized it instantly: “My son aaaaahhh—”
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“Perhaps not dead yet.” The Xiliang King tossed the jade pendant at the elder’s feet. “If he surrenders, spare his life.”
The elder’s legs gave way; he collapsed weakly to the ground.
But why?
For decades, his divinations had never failed—why now...
Clinking softly, the Xiliang King toyed with the bells on the divination array.
“Old man, I don’t believe in fate.”
“Don’t believe in fate,” he grinned, “but I’ve always had good fortune.”
Good fortune? The elder found it laughable. Throughout his life, he had never heard of anyone with “good fortune” born with such an ill-omened white hair. According to his experience reading faces, it was a mark of misfortune and a tragic death!
Just as he pondered, a chill swept over his head.
One drop, two drops—suddenly, rain began to pour.
The Xiliang King stretched out his hand.
“A fine rain.”
“See? Even if I fell into the Xiangtan City trap, the fire would be extinguished by this rain. That’s good fortune.”
How could such nonsense exist in the world?!
The elder collapsed utterly, unable to believe it. He had lived in Dongze his entire life; summers there were always dry, and the celestial signs showed no rain for over ten days ahead.
How could it rain so suddenly, and on this very day of all days!?
The rain thickened, obscuring vision.
The Xiliang King brushed hair from his face, pushing aside the strands that hindered his view.
After years of face-reading, the elder was slow to realize.
Who would have thought that beneath the disheveled hair lay a divine, flawless beauty? Heterochromatic eyes gleamed sharply, a celestial visage unlike any ordinary mortal, radiating the aura of a demon lord!
Such appearance was priceless beyond words...
The elder prostrated himself completely. When he finally lifted his eyes, the Xiliang King smiled faintly, not elegantly.
“Old man, you don’t know. I have an old friend I’ve never met in person, but every time we meet... he sets fires on me.”
“Over time, one becomes skilled.”
“The scent of oil and smoke from your entire Xiangtan City is all too familiar—I can smell it from ten miles away.”
...
The next morning, Xiangtan City was peaceful.
The Xiliang King stood atop the city wall beneath the rising sun, reaching a hand toward the sky.
“Caw—”
A pure white sea eagle flapped its wings and alighted on the carved leather bracer of his right arm.
“Chanchi~”
Yan Zhi squinted, leaning close to kiss the fluffy bird’s head affectionately. Then, with a flicker in his eyes, he complained disdainfully, weighing the plump bird in his hands:
“How did you get so fat again? Did he feed you fresh pork belly?”
Xiliang Tiger General Zhao Hongyao ascended the city wall.
She caught sight of the Xiliang King’s silver hair slowly darkening in the morning light, reverting to its natural black as he looked back at her.
“Chanchi’s back?”
She glanced at the empty message tube tied to the eagle’s leg.
“Did he not return your message again?”
Everyone knew that over the years, the letters the king sent via flying eagle were always read but never replied to by the Moonlight City Lord.
Yan Zhi was used to it. Ruffling the bird, he mused, “What if I go and take out his precious Luonan Zhi? Would the Moonlight City Lord cry out loud and, for once, write back to scold me?”
Zhao Hongyao: “Not likely. He’d probably just find someone new in no time.”
“...”
That was sound reasoning, leaving him speechless.
...
Of course, even if he could make the Moonlight City Lord cry, Yan Zhi couldn’t be bothered.
A mere broken town like Tangsha.
Not worth it for a Luonan Zhi. He had encountered that man in past battles. A competent opponent, yes, but not enough to make him abandon the vast lands and cities offered now in Dongze and take a long detour to Luozhou just to deal with him.
“Unless the one trapped in Tangsha City is Moonlight City Lord Mu Guanghan himself.”
Then he would gladly spare no effort, no cost, to kill him mercilessly.
Only Mu Guanghan was worth it.
Only Mu Guanghan was worth it.
“Well, well, seeing as he’s been feeding Chanchi so well and has already gifted me over a dozen cities in Dongze, I’ll owe him a favor this time.”
“For now, I’ll owe him a few days.”
...
...
The Luozhou army advanced north, having entered An City yesterday.
Mu Guanghan learned only after settling in An City that the Xiliang King Yan Zhi had secretly gifted three cities in Luozhou under Xiliang control to “allies” a few days ago.
The southernmost Fuqing City was handed to the Dongze Tuoba tribe, recently estranged from the Dongze alliance and now pledged to the Xiliang King; the central Xiucheng City was given to Yi Prefecture Marquis Ying Zu, a traitor who betrayed Southern Yue for personal gain; and the northern Chicheng City, bordering Dongze, was gifted to the new ally, the Marquis of Suizhou in Beiyou.
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Amidst chaos, it seemed like a mere gift of three cities.
Not a grand gesture.
But these three cities were the throat of Luozhou, connected by roads to An City—the last barrier north of Luozhou. If An City fell, enemy forces could march directly to the provincial capital Anmu, divide Luozhou, and even push toward Wuheng.
Southern Yue’s Luozhou and Wuheng were fertile, prosperous towns rich in minerals and blessed with favorable feng shui.
Rare treasures of the southern lands.
If not for such tempting prospects, Marquis Ying Zu would not have been so blinded by greed as to betray old friends.
Mu Guanghan: “...”
But this was not all bad news for them.
After all, facing the Marquis of Yi and the Marquis of Sui was preferable to facing Yan Zhi himself.
Moreover, the first city they planned to attack, Fuqing, was guarded by the Dongze Tuoba tribe. Mu Guanghan had spent time in Dongze and had some contact with the Tuoba, confident he could exploit their weaknesses and lure them out.
So after resting a night in Anmu, the army prepared to march on Fuqing.
But just as they were ready to depart, urgent news arrived.
The three armies that had just claimed the three cities—the Suizhou, Yi Prefecture, and Tuoba forces—had conspired to unite and attack Luozhou.
Their forces now marched south on three fronts to besiege An City.
Reportedly, Suizhou’s Marquis dispatched 70,000 troops, Yi Prefecture’s Marquis 80,000, and the Tuoba 50,000—together twice the size of Luozhou’s entire 100,000-strong army.
The enemy’s momentum was sudden.
At this rate, Luozhou’s forces would not even reach Fuqing City before being encircled by the three armies.
Panic spread.
Experienced generals immediately sealed the news to prevent mutiny and hurried to confer with the young lord and the Moonlight City Lord on countermeasures.
But the Moonlight City Lord was nowhere to be found.
He was said to have gone out to buy some bowls and plates, promising to return soon.
Shao Xiaoling: “What’s there to fear? Twice their numbers—just fight! I refuse to believe we can’t win!”
He spoke boldly, partly because he had fought few battles, and partly because fortune had smiled on him—his limited battlefield experience had yielded a few improbable victories against larger forces.
But that was mere luck.
To the seasoned veterans, his words sounded reckless and naive. Their faces grew grave, recalling the disastrous Tianchang battle six months prior—
Their former lord Shao Zijian had been trapped and crushed by the combined forces of Yi Prefecture, Xiliang, and Suizhou—twice the enemy numbers—refusing to surrender until slain without a trace, a heartbreaking loss.
The current situation felt like a replay.
A near-certain defeat.
Even the young master Shao Mingyue recalled Mu Guanghan’s teachings: on the plains, if the enemy’s numbers exceed yours by one and a half times, it is almost impossible to win.
Perhaps the only consolation was that the enemy’s forces had not tripled theirs.
The Moonlight City Lord had said that to assault a city forcibly required three times the enemy’s numbers; otherwise, one could only besiege and wait for reinforcements.
Li Gouling gritted her teeth: “But that means a war of attrition.”
Luozhou could not afford that.
Their 100,000 troops were already relying on borrowed supplies. Being trapped in An City would render this campaign futile. Once Xiliang reinforcements arrived, An City would fall. If An City fell, Luozhou was lost. The fate of Luozhou and Wuheng were intertwined.
Li Gouling had brought 5,000 of Wuheng’s fiercest cavalry. No matter how brave, there were limits to beating overwhelming odds. Five thousand against ten thousand could be barely attempted, but five thousand against two hundred thousand was madness.
They could neither hold nor win outside.
No way out, no retreat.
The old generals fell silent, as if reliving the siege of Old City.
Just then, Mu Guanghan returned. He had run back, carrying a large golden bowl inlaid with gems.
Wei Liuyi had accompanied him and paid for it.
Mu Guanghan offered no resistance; after all, the enemy controlled Luozhou’s granaries, and with a great threat looming, old grudges were set aside. Today, being swindled out of a gold bowl was a small price to pay.
But the bowl was enormous, hardly suitable for eating and too ostentatious as decoration.
When he bought it, Wei Liuyi asked: “Ahan, what is this bowl for?”
“For feeding birds.”
Wei Liuyi was puzzled.
Isn’t bird-feeding usually done with small, delicate porcelain cups?
“That bird is very large and greedy when it comes to meat—just like its owner.”
Wei Liuyi did not know which bird he meant, nor its owner.
Yet somehow, hearing him say the bird’s owner was “greedy and cunning” left her feeling a dull ache in her heart.
Mu Guanghan entered the camp and saw everyone. Without further ado, he handed the bowl to Chu Danxi to put away.
Then he grabbed his pack.
“Generals, are we ready? Let’s go. We march immediately!”
Everyone hesitated, wanting to say something.
“Don’t worry, we can win.”
Unlike many present who wore grim expressions, the Moonlight City Lord’s gaze was resolute, even smiling.
“As long as we move fast enough, we can fight and win. Let’s go—move quickly if you want victory!”