Volume One: The Wild Child Chapter Sixty-Three: Life and Death Like a Dream

Lin Changtian had been plagued by misfortune lately.

As commander-in-chief, he led his army through desolate stretches, not encountering a single soul—utter boredom. After receiving news from Qi Yong, he hurried toward Yishan, only to run into the victorious troops returning from Sishan. Again, he came up empty-handed. The soldiers under him looked on with resentful eyes. In the northern realms, where men gamble with their lives daily, what true warrior doesn’t scoff at life and death? Few believe in the fickle concept of luck, but since Marshal Lin began leading, he’d flawlessly avoided every enemy force on Yishan. That wouldn’t be remarkable, except that General Kuisheng, marching just a few miles behind, managed to sweep up every foe. It was enough to make one believe in the gods.

In Sishan, merit is earned through battle. The others would return to feast and celebrate, while Lin’s troops had only experienced a “self-driving tour” from Sishan to Yishan. His soldiers wore despondent expressions; some even pinched a handful of earth, stuck incense in it, and prayed for divine intervention, beseeching the heavens to drop a few enemies their way. Others drew crosses over their chests, imploring for a blessed chance at combat. Lin Changtian was embarrassed by their antics and, mixing bluff and coercion, forcibly seized the rearguard assignment from Kuisheng.

But everyone knew full well there would be no pursuers—the chaos atop Yishan had dispersed them all.

Lin Changtian thought as much, but he couldn’t let his men stay discouraged. Muttering to himself, he gazed upward, speaking to the sun, “Such fine weather today, surely it’s smiling upon me. The reason we’re freezing for nothing can’t possibly be my fault. Wait—what’s that black dot in the sky?” Before he could see clearly, the black dot grew larger and struck him directly on the head.

Those praying to gods, seeking salvation, or invoking deities were all stunned, their minds echoing a single curse: Damn, it really worked!

Lin Changtian summoned his inner strength and blocked the falling object. Focusing, he saw it was a woman. Placing his hand by her nose, sensing faint breath, he channeled energy to revive her.

After a while, warmth restored her, and she slowly opened her eyes.

This was Wang Yirong, the woman who had leapt from Yishan’s heights.

Lin Changtian studied her with keen interest—not out of lust, but out of confusion. When had Yishan’s bandits become so fierce that even women used cliff-jumping as a test of courage? Truly admirable.

If the soldiers of Sishan knew their commander’s thought process, they’d never again doubt that misfortune stemmed from luck.

“Whose subordinate are you in Yishan? You’re quite the character! Jumping off such a high cliff without hesitation. Woman, you have certainly caught the attention of Sishan’s illustrious and valiant general, Lin Changtian, the unrivaled commander of the surprise attack corps.”

Wang Yirong curled up, touching her cheek, incredulously surveying her surroundings. “I survived?”

“No,” Lin Changtian replied seriously, “Some people are dead, yet still alive; others live, yet are already dead. Life and death are uncertain, yin and yang in chaos. Strictly speaking, only this very second are you truly alive.”

Kuisheng sighed, pulled Lin Changtian aside, and pressed his blade to Wang Yirong’s throat. “Sister, would you mind explaining how you came to arrive in such a manner? Your entrance is unique across the northern realm.”

Yet the woman showed no fear, only staring dazedly at the sky.

Was her man a coward? No—she alone had witnessed Yang Feng’s preparation to draw his blade. The henchman, meek his whole life, was about to become a hero, but the wife he intended to “rescue” stopped him.

“He couldn’t save me,” Wang Yirong murmured with a smile on her face, tears in her eyes. In that instant midair, a wild thought had crossed her mind.

Are lives precious in the northern realm? No, they are as worthless as grass. So what value does false virtue and chastity hold?

Before she could answer, she crashed onto Lin Changtian’s head, ending her philosophical pondering unrelated to her identity.

“Definitely a Yishan dog—half a day without a word, might as well kill her now!” Kuisheng feigned flipping his blade, scaring the dazed Wang Yirong with its blunt side.

“Wait, General, please, I’ll confess everything sincerely.” Having narrowly escaped death, Wang Yirong quickly regained her senses, waving her hands in panic and recounting her ordeal atop Yishan in detail.

...

Qi Yong stared at the pale-faced man before him, momentarily speechless, glancing helplessly at Lü Liang.

This man was Yang Feng, the escapee. After leaving Yishan, he stole a horse and rode straight toward the place where he’d previously met Qi Yong and others. Luck was with him—he avoided Yishan’s searching guards. Yet he was unlucky too; after carefully planning his route, he missed his wife by a hair’s breadth.

“Yes, I’m not lying. Let me join Sishan—even if I’m cannon fodder, Yang Feng won’t complain!” Eyes bloodshot, he pulled two shivering children into his embrace, warming them with his body heat.

Lü Liang was at a loss, gesturing to Qi Yong that he had no idea what to say.

Qi Yong ran his hand through his hair so many times he felt bald, still unable to decide. Seeing their indecision, Yang Feng didn’t press them, cupping his hands and saying, “I know it’s sudden. If you two don’t trust me, there’s nothing I can do. But I have a clever plan to break through Yishan. Promise me vengeance, and I’ll share it immediately—help Sishan brothers chop off Zhang Yi’s head!”

“Well then, what’s this plan? What makes you so bold?” Qi Yong eyed Yang Feng suspiciously. If not for him coming with family, he wouldn’t trust this cunning old fox of the northern realm.

Yang Feng straightened, pointing at the sky. “I know a secret path to the back of Yishan. You two must understand the significance.”

Qi Yong and Lü Liang exchanged looks, doubt written all over their faces. “Whether true or false, we can’t decide. Our Marshal is just a dozen miles ahead. Will you come with us to ask him?”

Qi Yong seemed to seek Yang Feng’s opinion, but the firm grip on his shoulder made it clear the choice was already made.

Yang Feng shook off Qi Yong’s hold, lifted his chin, and declared loudly, “It’s not just Sishan men who keep their word—don’t try to scare me! I fear nothing. Lead the way!”

Qi Yong stared for a long while, then gave Yang Feng a thumbs-up. “You’ve got guts! But if your story has one flaw, don’t blame us for what happens.”

Yang Feng snorted coldly, ignoring him, and followed Lü Liang, mounting his horse.

...

“So, your husband fled Zhang Yi’s clutches, escaped down the mountain in the chaos, and took the back path down?” Kuisheng sheathed his blade, deep in thought.

Lin Changtian squatted, drawing circles in the dirt. Large circles encompassed small ones, crude lines sketching the outline of a burly man. “Look here—is this the likeness of your husband?”

Wang Yirong leaned over, covering her mouth in surprise. “Have you met him before? How could it look so much like him?”

Before Lin Changtian could reply, Kuisheng interrupted, “You don’t know my brother Lin’s skills. Drawing a person is nothing for him! Back in Qin Emperor Kindergarten, Lin and I were called the ‘Sleeping Dragon and Young Phoenix’ of the art class!”

“Indeed, but it was our teacher who recognized our talent. How did he praise us? Said if we kept drawing into our next lives, we’d surely achieve greatness in art!”

“Who knows—if not for this cursed age of awakening, maybe our paintings would now hang in the Forbidden Palace.”

Their banter brought laughter among the soldiers. Suddenly, dust rose in the distance. Kuisheng quickly dropped his smile, and with a glance, Sishan’s troops formed battle lines, gripping their weapons, ready for action.

...

“Marshal!” Qi Yong’s voice rang out as he closed the last few hundred meters, galloping like an arrow to Lin Changtian’s side. Dismounting, he leaned on his blade, announcing, “Marshal, urgent military news from my unit—this could decide Yishan in one battle!”

Behind him, cavalry halted, dismounted, and bowed in unison.

Lin Changtian quickly helped Qi Yong up, shouting, “From today, Sishan forbids kneeling—handclasped salutes only. Understood?”

“Yes!” the soldiers replied, still kneeling. Lin Changtian was dumbfounded. Qi Yong intervened, “Rise at once, do not defy the Marshal’s order! Please excuse them, Marshal, old habits die hard. Give them time to adapt. Let’s not dwell on this now—Marshal, we may be able to settle Yishan’s fate in one strike!”

“Oh? How so?” Lin Changtian inquired. Qi Yong quickly pulled Yang Feng forward. “This man was a Yishan bandit. His wife was forced by Zhang Yi to leap off the cliff. He claims there’s a path directly to Yishan’s back. If we verify it, we could…”

“Hold on,” Lin Changtian gestured for Kuisheng to bring over the huddled Wang Yirong. “One lost her husband to a cliff, the other lost his wife—look up, do you recognize this man?”

No need for Lin Changtian to prompt; the two stood frozen. As their child cried out, Yang Feng could no longer restrain his emotions, rushing to embrace his wife, tears streaming.

“You’re lucky, wife—you survived.” Yang Feng choked out in their hometown dialect.

Wang Yirong punched his chest, hands on her hips. “What, hoping I’d die so you could remarry? Thank heavens I was spared, met a benefactor, and was saved by this compassionate young man. You’d better thank him properly!”

The couple chatted for ages, turning a brief separation into an hour-long reunion, their intimate words spilling out before nightfall.

Between life and death, separated by yin and yang—thank the heavens for mercy.

Aside from the hot-tempered Qi Yong, everyone watched quietly as the couple whispered.

Lin Changtian glanced at Qi Yong, who was scratching his head, and patted his shoulder. “Qi Yong, have you never tasted the bitterness of love?”

Qi Yong paused, then snorted, “Only fools savor bitterness—I’ve always preferred sweets. Besides, women only slow your blade. That’s the doctrine of General Chen Ziliang! He taught me, and our troops uphold it as Sishan’s foremost truth.”

“Oh? Then why is Chen Ziliang always accompanied by Lin Xiaoxi, while you…” Lin Changtian deliberately trailed off, leaving Qi Yong questioning his own beliefs.

Seeing the couple finish their private talk and approach, they knelt together. Yang Feng spoke loudly, “Words can’t express my gratitude. If you’ll accept me, I’ll serve at your command, loyal as a dog or horse—what’s the saying? I’ve exhausted all my learning! In short, my life is yours from now on!”

Lin Changtian hurriedly helped them up, about to speak, when he saw Qi Yong frantically signaling to him. Yang Feng noticed, quickly adding, “Forgive my excitement—there really is a path behind Yishan, and I believe I’m the only one who knows it.”

The eyes of Sishan’s men blazed, their gaze fixed on Yang Feng, awaiting his next words.

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