Volume Two: The Bandits Here, Chapter 102: A General Stands Before the Pass

This small but fierce band of bandits eventually encountered their counterparts. As usual, they were ambushing merchants when their murderous songs were abruptly cut off. The sheep shed its weak skin, and when the disguise was torn away, the roles of hunter and prey quietly reversed.

Chen Mo severed the bandit leader’s head and sneered at the young soldiers curled up in a ball. “Go back to where you came from. Tell those high-and-mighty scoundrels, the generals of Sishan, to wait for Ma Hui to personally arrive at Weinan Mountain Pass!”

The soldiers grasped at this lifeline, scrambled onto their horses, and vanished from sight within moments...

The scoundrels in Anma City were furious.

Du Zhaolin snapped the neck of the soldier who brought the news, expressionless as he stared at Ma Hui’s commanding officers. He uttered only two words.

“Damn it!”

The atmosphere grew tense and grim. No one dared speak in the city. The generals silently complied, though none understood exactly who the curse was directed at that day.

Was it aimed at the rebellious bandits of Sishan? The lone surviving soldiers? Or perhaps... it was merely a sign of frustration at the misfortunes, as if, beneath the merciful heavens, a pitiful sacrificial offering had been slaughtered.

Because of those two words, Anma City sprang into action, dispatching the vast army of beasts to the southern battlefield according to the original plan.

Du Zhaolin notified Ma Hui with a private letter, not seeming to think these scoundrels warranted official attention.

...

At Weinan Mountain Pass, the elite forces of Sishan had gathered—generals and soldiers fully assembled. By contrast, Sishan itself appeared hollowed out.

Xu Yong hung his head low, wanting to bid a final farewell to Gongsun Twelve, but after hesitating for a long time, he never found the courage to visit the young lady.

He didn’t have time for long speeches, nor the kind of wit that could make a woman’s heart flutter with a single sentence... well, let’s call it a certain kind of charm.

Lin Changtian impatiently looked at Xu Yong. Among the generals responsible for the campaign at Weinan Pass, only the two of them remained lingering.

“What are you afraid of? She’s just a petite woman, maybe a bit more... generous in size, but can that really stop you from saying goodbye?”

Xu Yong nodded in agreement, then frowned, sensing something was off. After a while, he fixed Lin Changtian with a stare and gestured a larger circle with his hands, meaning—“all-encompassing.”

“Can you be serious for once? Did your brain start working only when thinking about this? Fine, Lord Xu, just listen to me. Don’t be so dull—learn to enter a girl’s heart. Knock on that hidden door, exchange your feelings, entwine yourselves until the bond crystallizes, and your hearts meld, steadfast and unbreakable.”

“That’s... a heart transplant, isn’t it?” Xu Yong blinked uncertainly, clearly puzzled how saving lives related to Gongsun Twelve.

The Sishan lord narrowed his eyes, ignoring Xu Yong’s muttering behind his back, and descended the mountain alone.

Hmph, never to taste four dishes in one lifetime.

Xu Yong scratched his head and decided to steel himself to visit Gongsun Twelve’s chamber.

Braving his courage, he puffed out his chest and stared straight at Gongsun Twelve, as if to rival the grandeur upon her bosom.

“Why are you glaring at me? Looking for a fight? Perfect timing—this lady’s itching to see what the men of Sishan are made of today.”

Gongsun Twelve glared back, her brows furrowed in anger like a wild lioness intimidating her prey.

“You misunderstand. I... want to be your gardener alone.”

“W-Why?” Gongsun Twelve’s cheeks flushed slightly, hesitant yet curious.

Xu Yong took a deep breath, grabbed her delicate hand, and resolutely declared, “Because then I can plant a whole forest of stubborn trees in your heart...”

Suddenly, a man flew out of the room—called a man rather than a person perhaps because his rising posture resembled a salted fish not yet flipped over.

...

Both sides held their ground at the pass for many days, probing each other’s limits by sending their least valuable soldiers as bargaining chips.

Like beasts of prey, they scrutinized each other, neither yielding, each pondering how to snap the other’s neck.

Only one had committed everything, while the other weighed how much cost was acceptable for a decisive victory.

“If it were another army, we could just wear them down—after all, with these natural defenses, no one can assault recklessly. But now we’re fighting the Northern Army! What, you want to gamble it all with that old thief Ma Hui?”

Qi Yong was the first to shout fiercely in the war tent, glaring at Lü Liang, simply because his old friend now advocated retreat.

Kui Sheng strode up beside Qi Yong, like two savage dogs glaring fiercely at Lü Liang.

He had stifled this frustration for too long—promised a battle to the death, yet in the end, they were doing the same old job.

“Precisely because the enemy is fierce, our army must avoid their edge, wear them down until exhausted and spiritless, then send a strong force to finish them off. Wouldn’t that be a sure victory?”

Lü Liang pulled Xu Yong aside and averted his eyes, clearly unwilling to meet the dogs’ gaze.

Everyone was a mountain hero, holding firm opinions, unwilling to admit the other’s “self-righteousness.”

So all eyes turned to the elder watching the spectacle.

Lin Changtian, half-asleep, was reluctantly called upon to decide. He sighed inwardly and said unwillingly, “All of you are veterans. Surely each has their own logic? Whether to fight or defend, better to wait until today passes.”

“You postponed yesterday to today, now you want to drag it into tomorrow and the day after? If this keeps up, how can we fight?”

A youth suddenly jumped up, pointing at Lin Changtian’s nose. Looking closer, it was no surprise—it was Lin Zhao.

He was much liked, but military matters left no room for impatience. Lin Changtian dropped his smile and scolded sharply, “Are you a mere child daring to interrupt me? The enemy hasn’t moved either, why rush?”

Just as Lin Changtian spoke officially, a soldier stumbled into the tent, falling to the ground covered in mud and shouted loudly, “Someone outside the pass has challenged us! They’ve already killed a dozen of our officers and soldiers!”

Chen Ziliang, also half-asleep, snapped awake, seized his spear, and dashed outside. In a blink, he disappeared from sight.

Qi Yong was the first to react, shouting wildly, rushing out without armor, followed closely by Kui Sheng, Xu Yong, Lin Zhao, and others. Lin Changtian sneered, lazily kicked open the door and window, leapt out—he could fly...

Outside the pass, figures stirred up yellow dust, as if turning the green land to wasteland.

The leading general stood with a silver spear, circling around a dozen corpses, looking bored.

Suddenly, the head hanging by the horse’s neck lifted slightly; ears perked and eyes narrowed, sizing up the spear-wielding general who had just dismounted.

“Nice horse, and that spear’s a fine one. Made of yang stone, perhaps?”

The other general scrutinized him, speaking calmly with earnestness, seemingly just wanting to know the answer.

Compelled by some impulse, he decided to say something harsh—though the first to speak threats had ended up as corpses on the ground.

“I am Jiu Ye. If you can kill me, this spear will be yours. Whether for collection or killing, you can do as you please.”

Chen Ziliang always listened carefully; he nodded, thinking this fellow, though arrogant, was reasonable.

He decided to heed the man’s words, raised his spear, and charged.

The other general barely lifted an eyelid, slowly rising, about to ask the name of the man coming to die, so he could coldly say, “No nameless scoundrels fall under this spear!”

But then his eyes suddenly widened and never closed again.

With a thud, his body fell from the horse. Jiu Ye’s troops, chatting moments before, froze in place, stunned.

Chen Ziliang suddenly leapt at the bend, fiercely hurling his spear through Jiu Ye’s body, slaying a vast number of soldiers until the center of the army, where someone grabbed and killed him, yet his fierce momentum did not wane, wind howling as if to pierce the attacker’s face.

From one horse to another, Chen Ziliang tossed Jiu Ye’s body aside, examined the newly acquired silver spear and white horse, and smiled with satisfaction.

Yet the man remained unsatisfied. Mounting his horse, amid the chaos he spotted a hand raised in the air...

“That man, please return the spear. Thanks in advance!” Chen Ziliang shouted earnestly, as serious as when listening to others.

The raised hand spun around, the man pondering the elegant characters engraved on the spear. Murmuring, “Hmm, Chen Ziliang? I’ve heard of him. But these characters... why do they look nicer than mine?”

“Chen Ziliang, tell me, did you carve the inscription yourself?”

The man spoke seriously, ears perked, awaiting a reply.

Chen Ziliang scratched his head, led his horse forward, and in front of countless weapons shouted, “Of course not. I’m clumsy with my hands—couldn’t carve such beautiful writing.”

“Then who did? Which gentleman on Sishan?”

The man was persistent, unwilling to believe any man in this northern realm had better handwriting than him.

“Not a gentleman, a girl. Lin Xiaoxi—you probably don’t know her?”

Chen Ziliang leaned forward, engaging in a lively exchange across the distance like a child.

The man relaxed but couldn’t help his curiosity. “Who is this woman to you? Worth all this effort?”

Chen Ziliang grimaced. He wanted to say she was his sworn brother, but Lin Xiaoxi threatened him to call her his wife after carving the letters.

Well, promises must be kept, so before the two armies, in front of countless soldiers, he shouted loudly, “She’s my wife!”

The armies fell silent from the shock. Lin Changtian squinted, glad that not everyone on his mountain was as wooden as Xu Yong.

“Hey, I knew my writing was better.” But the man quickly lost his smile, remembering he had no wife.

In fact, not only did he scowl, but Kui Sheng in the opposing army also wore a look of resentment and... helplessness.

War is war, but all this nonsense—what’s the point? Just dampening the morale on both sides?