Unexpectedly, an accident occurred. No one anticipated that at this moment, another group of riders suddenly appeared ahead.

A procession rode high war horses, splashing mud with their hooves as they swept like wind to the abandoned post. The leader saw the supply convoy stopped on the road, turned his head, and roared in Beidi language toward the inside: “Captain! Get out here!”

This person wore rhinoceros armor and a helmet painted with a fierce beast face, topped with black feathers – the attire of high-ranking Beidi military officers.

When the roar ended, commotion arose from inside the abandoned post. Soon, the captain stumbled out sleepily, running while hastily putting on clothes, apparently just awakened from sleep. Before he could steady himself at the officer’s horse, a whip came down on his head.

“You useless fool! The supplies still haven’t been delivered! The Southern King gave General Qin Long a death order – the Eight Tribes must be taken within a month! Now, the Xiao father and son have holed up in Maple Leaf City with their forces. The front urgently needs military supplies, yet you’re here being lazy!”

The officer cursed while continuously lashing with his whip. His status seemed quite high. The captain’s face was whipped bloody, but he prostrated himself, kowtowing, not daring to argue, only turning to shout for his subordinates to immediately prepare for departure.

After several lashes, the officer’s eyes swept the surroundings of the abandoned post, couldn’t help but become furious again, struck another blow, pointing at the supply convoy and cursing: “Only caring about sleep, leaving military supplies unguarded without even a night watchman? Don’t you know Wei spies often cross the border to scout?”

The captain endured the pain, looked back, and only then noticed the missing men. He loudly called the names of the two night watch soldiers. Getting no response, he ordered men to search. Soon, soldiers found the corpses behind the broken wall and dragged them out.

The captain was greatly alarmed and immediately led his men to investigate the surroundings. The officer who had come to urge the supplies also put away his whip, dismounted, and personally examined the wounds on the two completely dead bodies. Then he stood up, alertly observing the surroundings, his gaze finally settling on the forest.

That direction was pitch black. At this moment, wild wind howled through the forest as if thousands of troops were hidden within.

Instinct made this officer uneasy. He stopped, called the captain, ordered him to take men to investigate, then shouted to a follower carrying a quiver: “Fire the whistling arrow!”

The follower immediately grabbed his bow, pulled out a signal arrow, nocked it, and aimed overhead, drawing the bow with full strength.

This type of signal arrow was modified from whistling arrows, with hollow shafts made from animal bone and drilled with small holes. When shot, it would produce an extremely sharp whistling sound. In the Beidi armies, it was commonly used to warn of danger and summon companions. Moreover, Beidi’s armies trained specialists assigned to each camp specifically to achieve louder sounds when firing.

At this moment, in such deep nighttime quiet, a whistling arrow fired by a trained person could carry the warning sound ten li away.

The accident came too quickly.

Yang Hu was closer to these people and couldn’t return to the forest in time. More worried about drawing Beidi’s attention to the forest, he stopped retreating and lay flat on the ground. He hadn’t expected this Beidi officer to be so shrewd.

Who knew how many more Beidi soldiers were nearby? If summoned, the consequences would be unthinkable.

He was over ten steps away, unable to rush forward to stop them in time, and had no bow and arrows at hand. Seeing the Beidi soldier about to shoot, he leaped forward from the ground and threw his dagger.

The dagger plunged into the Beidi soldier’s chest with a thud. The soldier’s body swayed and fell, his bow and arrow also dropping to the ground.

The officer looked up and saw an unfamiliar person dressed like his subordinate soldiers suddenly leap from the ground. After throwing the dagger, still not satisfied, without pausing, he continued pouncing toward the arrow-wounded soldier carrying the whistling arrow quiver.

Greatly alarmed, the officer retreated while loudly calling nearby subordinates to advance and shoot arrows to block, while remaining calm in crisis, grabbing the fallen bow and whistling arrow near him to shoot personally.

Yang Hu had no more weapons at hand. Seeing this, his heart and soul were torn apart.

Two approaching Beidi soldiers shot arrows at him. Sharp arrows whooshed through the air, one deeply piercing his shoulder. Eyes red with rage, he snapped off the arrow shaft embedded in his body. Not only did his feet not stop, but he became even swifter, like a mad tiger, using all his strength to lunge at this Beidi officer.

Even if it meant mutual destruction, he had to destroy this deadly whistling arrow.

Suddenly then, accompanied by a whooshing wind sound, from the diagonal direction behind him, a tiger-head broadsword with its scabbard was hurled at the officer, the blade spinning and finally striking heavily against his face.

This sword was extremely heavy, with its scabbard, it weighed thirty to forty jin and carried tremendous impact force. The officer’s nose bridge and facial bones were instantly smashed to pieces, half his face caved in. He screamed and fell backward to the ground, the bow and whistling arrow in his hands also flying away.

Yang Hu was stunned. Before he could turn to see what happened, he was tackled to the ground by someone behind him.

Several more sharp arrows flew overhead. When he looked up again, he saw Fan Jing had arrived.

Fan Jing pressed Yang Hu down to dodge the arrows, then leaped up, grabbed his sword from the ground that he had thrown with its scabbard in his haste, unsheathed it, and struck down at the officer on the ground who could no longer open his eyes from pain. The head rolled away. With another stroke, he severed the whistling arrow and quiver.

The crisis resolved, Fan Jing straightened up, eyes shooting fierce light, holding the bloody sword as he pounced toward the few Beidi soldiers who had shot arrows. Seeing this bearded man dressed in the same colors as themselves but terrifyingly fierce, with even their officer beheaded, they were terrified out of their wits, retreating repeatedly, turning to flee. They hadn’t run far before being killed by Qingmu Camp soldiers pursuing from behind.

Two thousand soldiers had poured out from the forest. After a round of fighting, hundreds of Beidi soldiers, including the captain, were all killed, not one left alive.

In the muddy ground after the heavy rain, dirty blood flowed everywhere, with corpses scattered about. Zhang Jun found a road pass on the headless Beidi officer’s body and brought it to Jiang Hanyuan.

She took it and examined it.

The pass was carved from wood, written in Beidi script modeled after Central Plains characters. Jiang Hanyuan could read it – it contained the Beidi officer’s identity and name, “Colonel Changhai,” and bore a fire-sealed stamp to prevent forgery.

Colonel in Beidi armies was equivalent to General of the Regular Grades in Great Wei – not a low position. Unexpectedly, tonight, he had inexplicably become a ghost under the blade here.

Fan Jing asked her, “General, how should we proceed?”

Jiang Hanyuan glanced at the long convoy stopped on the road. Today is already the tenth day. If we disguise ourselves as this force transporting supplies, the journey would be safer, but too slow. Even with empty carts, it would be a burden. I’m worried about Maple Leaf City in case something happens—”

She pondered briefly. “Continue at full speed. We must arrive within half a month! We can’t stay here long either. Finish up and leave immediately.”

Fan Jing acknowledged and turned to lead the men in cleaning up. They took rations as supplies, replaced horses with strong ones, and then moved all corpses and vehicles into the forest to hide them.

Yang Hu and several other wounded soldiers were treating their injuries. Yang Hu was hurt the worst. The arrowhead in his shoulder had barbs deeply embedded in muscle, couldn’t be pulled out directly; only be slowly extracted.

He sat on a broken wall, bare-chested, with a muscular torso, while the accompanying army physician used a knife to cut open the muscle. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he gritted his teeth and urged, “Hurry up! What are you dawdling for! A baby could be born and running around by now!”

The physician chuckled: “My Young General Yang! You go give birth then, let me see—” As he spoke, catching him off guard, the knife tip pried, and with a “ding” sound, a blood-soaked arrowhead was extracted and dropped into an iron plate. A clump of dirty blood followed, gushing from the wound.

Yang Hu felt piercing pain and cried out loudly. Just as he was grimacing, he suddenly saw Jiang Hanyuan walking toward them and immediately endured the pain, closing his mouth.

Jiang Hanyuan asked about the other dozen men’s injuries, learning they were minor flesh wounds with no serious problems, felt somewhat relieved, then finally walked before Yang Hu to ask about his condition.

The physician cleaned Yang Hu’s wound, skillfully applied medicine and bandaged it, smiling: “The arrowhead is out. Fortunately, it didn’t damage joints. The young general has thick flesh – with rest it will heal.”

Jiang Hanyuan nodded, then looked at Yang Hu: “It must hurt terribly? Uncle Fan said you risked your life to stop the whistling arrow and nearly got into trouble.”

Seeing the female general looking at him with concerned eyes and gentle words, Yang Hu’s face flushed dark with heat, his heart pounding. He only shook his head saying it didn’t hurt, then said: “Blame my incompetence. If not for General Fan timely killing the man and stopping the signal arrow, who knows what would have happened now. I also must thank him for saving my life.”

Fan Jing usually kept a cold face, constantly suppressing Yang Hu and other young spirited soldiers’ actions. Yang Hu and others had some complaints about him, calling him “Old Fan” behind his back, saying he acted important by borrowing others’ authority. Now recalling that dangerous scene, Yang Hu not only admired him completely but felt ashamed and extremely grateful.

“That was an accident, having nothing to do with you. You completed your task excellently. As long as you’re fine, rest a bit. We’ll set out shortly – no problem with that?”

“No problem!” Yang Hu declared loudly.

Jiang Hanyuan patted his arm and turned to leave.

Before dawn, the group abandoned the post behind them and continued galloping forward at full speed with light equipment. After annihilating several scattered groups of Beidi soldiers encountered along the way, they pressed straight ahead and reached Anlong Pass the next day.

Stationed at this pass with a thousand troops was a former Jin general who had surrendered to the Beidi, named Huang Xiu. When subordinates reported that Colonel Changhai had arrived with forces bound for Maple Leaf City, road passes verified correctly, currently waiting outside the barbican, Huang Xiu dared not be negligent.

Colonel Changhai was General Qin Long’s capable subordinate, and General Qin Long was trusted by Southern King Chi Shu as the supreme commander of this Eight Tribes campaign. He, Huang Xiu, was merely a surrendered Han official, usually looked down upon. How dare he be remiss? He hastily straightened his attire and personally rushed out of the barbican to greet them. From afar, he saw a group of riders stop several zhang away.

The central figure wore a face veil covering half the face, revealing only eyes and the lower half through the veil, wearing a black-feathered helmet painted with fierce beast faces and black rhinoceros armor, holding reins with one hand, sitting high on a war horse.

Exactly, Colonel Changhai’s attire.

To his left, right, and behind were mounted riders following, each with steady bearing and stern expressions.

This was an elite cavalry force that could gallop thousands of li, maneuver around, and break strong enemies. At this moment, though silent, they emanated a powerful, imposing force.

Huang Xiu ran several steps, then slightly slowed his pace. When closer, he stopped, staring at the half-face visible under the veil of the central figure, his gaze dropping to the long spear gripped in the person’s right hand. Suddenly, he cried out: “You’re not Colonel Changhai!”

Having surrendered to the Beidi for years, he was long accustomed to speaking in Beidi language. But at this moment, too shocked, he instinctively blurted out his original mother tongue.

Jiang Hanyuan lifted her face veil and said coldly: “I am not.”

Huang Xiu was stunned, seeing this woman’s face. Suddenly reacting, he shrieked: “Quick, close the gates! The Wei people have come—” While shouting, he turned to flee back into the city gate—

Jiang Hanyuan raised her right arm holding the long spear, aimed at the person ahead, and threw with full force. The long shaft shot forward like a meteor from her hand, piercing through the former Jin surrender general’s chest. The spear point, stained with blood, emerged through his back, carrying him stumbling backward seven or eight steps until pinned against the city gate that had hastily closed halfway.

The moment the long spear left her hand, Jiang Hanyuan spurred her horse forward, instantly reaching the gate. Bending down, extending her arm, she grasped the spear shaft, pulled it from the man’s chest, without pausing, swung the spear to strike down a soldier closing the gate, then thrust forward, forcefully pushing open the city gate, taking the lead into the barbican.

Huang Xiu’s chest wound spurted blood, foam at his mouth corners. He toppled to the ground, still struggling, only to be trampled under iron hooves by countless war horses following her into the barbican, crushed to pulp.

Cui Jiu led crossbow troops along the walkway to the tower, quickly controlling the high ground, then formed ranks, shooting arrows at Beidi soldiers emerging from the pass upon hearing the commotion.

From the tower, arrows rained down in continuous volleys. Each wave that came was shot down, the ground covered with arrow-struck Beidi soldiers writhing in agony. Near the gate, Jiang Hanyuan led warriors in fierce combat, quickly killing all Beidi soldiers in the barbican. The main force, now unobstructed, charged into the pass.

Anlong Pass had a section of the Great Wall built on a mighty ridge to its side. Though now abandoned, it could be used by her. Her original plan was to use nighttime upon arrival to climb the ridge, cross the Great Wall, and attack Anlong Pass.

Now, due to that unexpected encounter on the road, things had become smooth instead.

In less than half a day, Anlong Pass was broken, several hundred enemies annihilated, and the remainder fled in panic.

Having reached here, even if the Southern Palace received news of her breakthrough, they could no longer stop her.

Jiang Hanyuan no longer pursued, rested briefly, then led the light cavalry straight ahead toward Maple Leaf City, now close at hand.

Shu Shenhui remained in Qiantang for several more days, totaling ten days altogether.

On this day, he finally completed all affairs for this southern tour.

He had left Chang’an in April, and now it was already August.

According to plan, tomorrow morning he would depart for the capital.

On the day before leaving, he went incognito with a simple escort to bid farewell to his mother.