Midsummer had arrived, the moon rising swiftly in the sky. Zhao Xunan sat atop West Pass's watchtower, gazing into the distance. Half a jar of crude, throat-searing liquor had already been drained, leaving him only mildly tipsy—but his eyes burned brighter than ever.
That very day, the moment the garrison had been relieved, a torrent of inky energy had surged through him, refining his martial essence to perfection. Then, a flood of jade-white literary energy had followed, the two forces intertwining behind him to form a colossal yin-yang fish. The once-distant Fifth Heaven now loomed within reach, its gates suddenly visible.
"General, you're quite the leisurely one," Yuwen Zhenyan leapt onto the watchtower, chuckling. His complexion was vastly improved from before. "The other generals are pacing like caged tigers—they can't find you anywhere."
"Let them pace," Zhao Xunan smiled, lifting another bowl of Three-Steam Heartbreak Liquor and downing it in one go. "Once we crush the new khan's arrogance and claim enough rewards, their hearts will settle."
Since reclaiming West Pass for Great Qin that day, this bitter brew had become his favorite. Unlike the smooth, fragrant white mutton wine of the interior, this rough, fiery spirit—once brewed with heartbreak grass—cut through his veins like a blade, leaving a stinging ache that settled in his lower abdomen. It was… exhilarating.
Watching him drink, Yuwen Zhenyan frowned. "Heartbreak Liquor is dangerous, even after three distillations. It's laced with heartbreak grass—you know, the stuff that cures rheumatism but poisons the body?"
Zhao Xunan waved him off. "No harm. I've already stepped halfway into the Fifth Heaven. Even if I ate heartbreak grass for every meal, it wouldn't faze me. Besides, it's just strong liquor."
He poured another bowl and pushed it to Yuwen Zhenyan. "Friend, your method of hiding in a tribe is flawed."
"You borrow the tribe's will to break through cultivation barriers quickly, but you're tied to their fate. When the tribe falters, so do you. That's no way to build a foundation."
Zhao Xunan took another swig, then passed the bowl back. "You're too modest. Not everyone can be a heaven-sent prodigy like me. For someone like you, who's struggled to enter the path, this is the best way."
Yuwen Zhenyan sighed, shaking his head. "I have no ambition for immortality. I don't crave the Dao or heaven. I only want to protect my tribe. As long as my people are safe, I'd die a happy man."
"…You're the one I truly admire," Zhao Xunan said, grinning. "Another bowl!"
He filled Yuwen Zhenyan's bowl, then raised his own. They drank in silence, the moon climbing higher.
This view was his alone—for now, a stop on his journey. But he would make it burn bright.
With the surrendered herders and West Pass's years of stored grain sustaining them, the Yinshan Garrison, Left/Right Guard Divisions, Left/Right Leading Divisions, Longcheng Garrison, and newly formed Wangchuan Guard had not left. Combined with the Yinshan soldiers now stationed in West Pass, their total strength exceeded 700,000. Adding the 500,000 herders from Jiaojiao who'd yet to move to Anxi Prefecture, the number neared 800,000.
The 500,000 refugees hadn't scattered either—they waited, silent, for the coming storm.
Scouts had reported thirty thousand royal cavalry from the grassland khanate marching toward West Pass, determined to reclaim the pass and eradicate the Sixth Prince's lineage.
Zhao Xunan sent a message to the Ministry of War: Annihilate the grassland khanate's able-bodied men. For Great Qin, buy fifteen years of peace.
The memo, coupled with Zhao's rising fame, ignited a firestorm in the capital. Civilians and martial artists alike hailed him as a living sage. The Imperial Academy even erected a stone statue of him at its gates for all to admire.
His daughter, Zhao Ping'er, was furious. "Damn brats—daring to erect a statue of a living man? Do they want their dean and chancellor dead?!"
She stormed the academy, punching and kicking students who fled, clutching their sore bottoms. Clearly, we were wrong to honor him, they thought.
In the imperial court, the Emperor flipped through memorials, frowning. "Zhao Xunan's refusal of rewards has stirred public outcry. The court gossips say we envy his talent. If he wins again, his fame will eclipse the sun. How to reward him? Decide quickly."
Prime Minister Hu Huaimin bowed. "Your Majesty, even if he refuses, we must reward him. A meager reward would invite scorn."
The court buzzed with debate. Zhao's achievements were unmatched—too great a hero was a double-edged sword.
"Wait," the Emperor said, rubbing his temples. "If Zhao Xunan defeats the new khan and secures their elite troops, I'll reward him handsomely."
Hu Huaimin sighed. "Handsomely"… What a bitter word.
"General, you shouldn't lead the charge yourself!" Dong Haodong sweated, staring at Zhao Xunan. "The entire army is under your command—you can't risk it!"
"Relax," Zhao Xunan clapped his shoulder. "I'll just toss stones and set formations. You've got this."
He slapped Dong's arm, then raised his white spear, leading 200,000 elites out of the pass, vanishing into the mountains to await the khanate's cavalry.
The next noon, thirty thousand iron cavalry arrived as scheduled, a tide surging toward West Pass. A warrior on a rare dragon horse led the way, a giant banner fluttering. Five hundred drummers pounded, their thunderous beats shaking the earth.
They halted a hundred paces from the walls. The warrior raised his voice, roaring: "The Great Khan's Dragon Banner approaches. Prince Li Yulong of the grasslands leads his forces to exit the pass and kneel in welcome!"
The cry echoed three times. Then, from the walls, a figure emerged—Li Yulong, once the Sixth Prince of the grasslands, now the Great Qin Prince of Fuyou. His yellow robe was gone, replaced by a red royal gown with dragon motifs, and a winged crown sat atop his head.
"Why would I, a prince of Great Qin, kneel to welcome a barbarian chieftain?" Li Yulong drawled, his tone unyielding.
By imperial decree, those who entered the Central Plains were "embroidered" (civilized), while those who left were "barbarians"—a consensus thousands of years old. Even the grassland khanate recognized this.
As Li Yulong spoke, Dong Haodong and other generals appeared on the walls. Hundreds of eight-shoot trebuchets, painstakingly moved to the walls, began to load. Three hundred copper cannons primed with explosive charges.
The dragon-horse warrior paled. The Sixth Prince had surrendered to Great Qin? The supply train hadn't arrived yet—their tight formation was a sitting duck.
"Retreat—!"
The warrior roared, but before the khanate's cavalry could react, Dong Haodong's hand slammed down. Cannons boomed, followed by the thunder of eight-shoot trebuchets.
Stones and explosive charges rained down. The thirty thousand cavalry scattered, rearing horses and screaming. Their formation, once imposing, crumbled.
"Go back—disrupt them!"
The wedge split the enemy ranks, charging west under the cheers of Great Qin's defenders.
West Pass's gates swung open. Thirty thousand cavalry poured out, splitting into two groups to flank Zhao Xunan's advance.
"Five-Stage Volley—Fire!"
General Gongyang's shout echoed. Thirty thousand Divine Arm Bows discharged in unison. Front ranks stepped back, rear ranks advanced, loosing arrows in a storm.
Men and horses fell. The once-dense cavalry thinned.
Panic spread. The khanate's forces wavered, trapped between the Great Qin defenders and Zhao Xunan's approaching wedge.
"Damn you, I'll tear you apart!"
The dragon-horse warrior, eyes bloodshot, discarded the new khan's banner. Grasping a wolf-toothed mace from his saddle, he charged Zhao Xunan.
Trapped, he'd die, but he'd take this Great Qin general with him—no dishonor to the grassland khanate.
"Stop," Zhao Xunan raised his white spear, halting his cavalry. The khanate's spirit was broken. If they surrendered, within three to five years, they'd become loyal Great Qin troops.
Their loss is our gain, Zhao thought. Great Qin's strength will soar. Then, let's see how the Western Liang, Southern Yue, and Great Zhou handle us.
Free of distractions, his path in this life would be unshackled. The Great Qin that once knelt to the Orthodox Sect would change—and he'd see what that new world looked like.
The warrior's wolf-toothed mace glowed red, marking him as a minor cultivator, no more than two heavens. Not a threat.
But fighting on horseback was messy. Better to fight on foot.
"Hey, big guy—I'm gonna tear you apart!"
The dragon horse thundered closer. The warrior raised his mace, swinging down.
Zhao Xunan smiled, gripping his blade. With a flick of his wrist, he parried—
Clang!
Neigh!
The blow, seemingly casual, carried the weight of five mountains. The mace sparked, and the warrior's horse stumbled back ten paces.
"Surrender, and I'll spare you," Zhao Xunan said, strolling closer. "Resist, and I'll kill you to mark my banner."
The warrior's face twisted. Bloodied hands gripped the mace. "You lowly Great Qin brute—die!"
Zhao Xunan's smile faded. So be it.
True energy surged into his Tianji. The pitch-black artifact blazed, rising like another sun. When the light dimmed, the dragon horse and warrior were gone.
Both armies stared, stunned. Zhao Xunan's slender figure, bathed in the afterglow, seemed godlike.
"Tell them—surrender, or die," Zhao Xunan mounted his horse, riding past 200,000 silent khanate cavalry. His gaze drifted to the horizon, a faint smile on his lips.
Heaven favored him. Since arriving in the northwest, luck had followed: the Six Ding Divine Fire, West Pass, martial essence, and now the khanate's thirty thousand cavalry. The northwest was his.
Opportunities once beyond imagination now beckoned. This trip to the northwest had been worth it.
"General—if they resist?" a captain asked.
Zhao Xunan didn't look back. "Kill them all."