From here to the Wei-Yan front line was less than two hundred miles. At a military marching pace, it would take four days at most to arrive, even without forced marching.
New Xia’s intentions were crystal clear.
The Kingdom of Zou had already admitted that they had allowed Yan passage for money. However, the direct consequence was Wei’s defeat, while New Xia suffered no damage, so the Queen of New Xia’s justification for entering the war was still insufficient.
But this didn’t prevent her from asserting New Xia’s presence. Both the northern and southern continents understood her implied message: if Yan dared to set its sights on New Xia or its tributary states again, the Queen would certainly dispatch troops.
The Yan King was naturally displeased; traditionally, only Yan had dared to threaten others like this. However, he had no time to teach the presumptuous New Xia a lesson now, because the snow and wind on the Canglan Plains had stopped, and the horns of attack sounded once more.
After half a winter of occupation, Yan had transformed the Canglan Plains into its solid base camp and reorganized its troops there. For Wei to reclaim it was now an almost impossible task.
After spending months cooped up in fortresses, the soldiers returned to the battlefield vigorous and fierce, making the fighting particularly intense from the very beginning.
But the Yan army’s advance slowed down.
On one hand, the terrain northward had changed, shifting from plains to rolling hills—truly a place easy to defend but difficult to attack—not to mention that the Wei army had made thorough defensive preparations there.
On the other hand, just one hundred and eighty miles to the east lay the Wei-Xia border, where a New Xia force was watching hungrily, ready to join the war at any moment.
The feeling of fighting while keeping an eye on a third party was terrible.
The Yan King had no choice but to change his strategy, mobilizing another seventy-thousand-strong force from the base camp to traverse the Canglan Plains in a northwestern direction. This wasn’t the optimal route in Yan’s tactical planning, as there were too many mountains, swamps, and monster habitats along the way, but it was far from New Xia’s threat and unexpected to Wei.
With this approach, Yan adopted a two-front strategy, with military consumption that was far more complex than simple addition.
Only then did other countries on the continent realize just how financially robust Yan was, still able to act so willfully after a year of major warfare.
Despite paying a heavy price, the Yan King’s unexpected northwestern maneuver caught Wei completely off guard. By the time Wei turned to organize defenses, Yan had already thrust like a dagger into the northwestern region.
Although the eastern front was stalled, Yan forces had torn open a gap in the west, continuously pouring in troops.
At this point, New Xia was even more unable to reach them. A large part of Wei still lay between New Xia and the Yan army.
Thus, the New Xia forces remained stationed at Wu Lin Town, taking no action for a long time.
Yan’s strike drew blood and inflicted pain on Wei, disrupting its original deployment.
Xiao Yan was furious and dispatched more troops to intercept.
And so the northwestern battlefield also became a meat grinder. It was said that in the most brutal battle, corpses littered the field and killing intent soared to the heavens, even causing snow to fall in June.
Amid the attacks and defenses, another year quickly passed.
The power struggle taking place within Wei continued. Wei and Yan were like two bulls locking horns, their eyes reddened with excitement, throwing troops, resources, and wealth into a bottomless vortex with no regard for cost or consequences.
Everyone knew that war burned money fastest.
The Wei court had already advocated frugality. The king led by example, not only reducing his own expenses but also changing the royal feast from eighteen exquisite dishes to twelve during the New Year’s court banquet, with the quality of dishes dropping two grades.
Although Yan had not made such adjustments, the royal court had long issued wartime decrees, not only requisitioning tools and materials from merchants and commoners but also increasing the tax burden on all citizens.
In war, ordinary people were always expected to pay. Moreover, Yan was fighting on enemy territory, with consumption at least several times that of their opponent. No matter how wealthy Yan was, considering that this war might drag on for a long time, they still needed to start calculating carefully to raise funds.
But those with discerning eyes could analyze that the deadlocked situation was slowly tilting in favor of the Yan army.
Because the Yan King had joined the battle.
As a monarch who also served as State Preceptor, he should, by rights, have remained in the safety of the rear commanding operations. Now that he was personally leading from the front, it showed his thirst for victory.
This also indicated from another perspective that the Yan King was under tremendous pressure as well.
This was no longer an era where cultivators could control everything single-handedly. As a sovereign, the Yan King’s every move was inevitably constrained by his citizens and nobility. His desire to pour money into a seemingly endless war meant the pressure from within his country was imaginable.
With the State Preceptor’s blessing, the army became as fierce as a tiger, immediately breaking the stalemate that had persisted for over two months, beginning to push northward and forcing the Wei army into continuous retreat.
Under these circumstances, the Wei army naturally had no choice but to deploy its own State Preceptor.
The Wei-Yan struggle for supremacy inevitably affected both the northern and southern continents. The supply and demand of numerous goods changed; strategic materials became the most sought-after commodities, while luxury goods prices plummeted.
Changes in the economic foundation led to tremors in the superstructure.
In the relatively stable New Xia, court officials noticed that the Queen had recently been restless, sometimes even lost in thought during court sessions.
By late summer of that year, when cicada cries were at their most shrill, Fu Lingchuan brought his three-and-a-half-year-old daughter for an audience with the sovereign. The Queen, who had been smiling and bestowing rewards just a moment before, suddenly changed color and even swayed, as if about to collapse.
Her delicate face turned as white as paper.
Fu Lingchuan was startled and instinctively reached out to support her. But before his fingertips could touch her sleeve, he suddenly realized—that wouldn’t do.
Chen Dachang, standing behind the Queen, was quick-eyed and quick-handed. He stepped forward to support her arm and urgently said, “Your Majesty!”
Feng Miaojun’s eyes had lost their divine light, and her form was so unsteady she could barely stand.
At that moment, she seemed to revert to that timid and delicate girl, no longer the deeply accomplished cultivator, no longer the infinitely majestic Queen of a great nation.
What happened? I’ve never heard of her having a chronic illness. Fu Lingchuan’s heart tightened as he watched her slowly sit down, and asked with concern, “Where are you unwell?”
Feng Miaojun barely steadied herself and forced a smile at his daughter, saying, “Let’s end here for today. I am unwell. May we play again another day when you come to the palace?”
The three-and-a-half-year-old child obediently nodded. Only then did Feng Miaojun say to Fu Lingchuan, “It’s nothing, I just need to rest.”
Fu Lingchuan had good judgment and, after expressing a few words of concern, knew when to stop. He took his daughter and withdrew.
Feng Miaojun sat for a little while longer, her complexion slowly returning to normal, but her expression remained uncertain. Chen Dachang softly asked, “Would Your Majesty like to return to the royal chambers to rest?”
“No need, We have no illness,” Feng Miaojun seemed somewhat restless and had no desire to retire. “Send a message to keep a close watch on the war reports from northwestern Wei and relay information to me immediately.”
Chen Dachang didn’t understand but still responded with a “Yes.”
Feng Miaojun, however, understood that something terrible had happened.