Eleventh Year of Zhengtong, First Month, Sixteenth Day, Dawn

Bloated stomachs, gaunt cheeks, dirty bodies, empty pockets, weak hands and feet—yet somehow, despite having nothing left, their hearts still felt afraid. Afraid of being alone, afraid of being beaten, afraid of dying. When fear reached its depths, they frequently wiped away tears and sobbed quietly. So everyone huddled close together for warmth, singing in unison:

“Morning in the hall, evening in bed,

Corrupt officials steal silver and grain.

Eating yours, wearing yours,

Rich families take concubines—yours too!”

The familiar song reached their ears—everyone could sing it. Adults sang their heartfelt grievances, children sang their inner thoughts. Everyone held hands, walking and singing together, no longer feeling lonely but only warmth.

Warm places make hearts yearn to linger. Everyone followed the figures ahead, walking forward, never stopping. When adults crossed mountains and ridges and the children behind couldn’t keep up, they were carried. When the weak fell down, the strong helped them up. Here there was no distinction between strong and weak, no hierarchy—everyone supported each other, clinging tightly together. No one minded.

Because everyone understood in their hearts that they were each other’s hope.

What is hope? Hope is like little water drops—drop by drop, dew falls to brooks, brooks babble and ripple, singing softly. Ten thousand mountains and a hundred peaks cannot hide the fact that all living beings originally have a voice.

A hundred little water drops can be called a cup of wine. A thousand little water drops can combine into a bowl of soup. Little water drops have no character—put them in a square wine cup and they become square, place them in a round bowl and they become round. Little water drops are clever and well-behaved, adapting wherever they go, only seeking to hide quietly in cups and bowls to spend their lives peacefully. But one day, when cups and bowls no longer wish to contain them, little water drops overflow like tears, seeking their own way out.

The procession was truly long—looking ahead, there were people everywhere. Everyone bowed their heads and bent their backs, silently moving forward. When hungry or thirsty, someone in the procession would share food and drink. When tired or weary, they would make heaven and earth their home, lying down wherever they were. Everyone followed the figures ahead, pursuing a great hope.

Where exactly was hope? Actually, few could say clearly. Everyone only knew to follow the footsteps ahead, walking forward, always walking. Ahead there might be everything, or there might be nothing—but no one asked much, because everyone knew in their hearts that once the truth was spoken, only despair would remain.

Dawn was approaching again. The singing grew dimmer, eyelids grew heavier—everyone was tired and could barely walk. The moon in the sky hid behind colorful clouds, gradually setting westward and slowly dimming. Suddenly, a ray of dawn light pierced through the sea of clouds, illuminating the north. In an instant, heaven and earth fell silent.

Adults opened their mouths wide and rubbed their eyes. Children knelt down, gazing at the vision before them.

Having crossed thousands of mountains and rivers, they had reached this place. They saw the sun rising in the distant east, while the colorful moon in the west had not yet set. At this moment, sun and moon appeared together in the firmament, reflecting a magnificent city. As the multitude held their breath, someone was the first to shout: “The Forbidden City!”

The Forbidden City—headquarters of all officials under heaven! The Forbidden City—central command for all the nation’s armies! Gazing from the hill, the Forbidden City before them was like a bright pearl emerging from the sea, sparkling brilliantly, so beautiful it moved people to tears. With this magnificent sight before them, everyone’s breathing quickened and bodies trembled. In an instant, a second cry tore through the night sky.

“The Forbidden City!” Under the sky full of colorful clouds, everyone shouted at the top of their lungs, beating their chests and stamping the ground: “The Forbidden City! The Forbidden City! The—Forbidden—City!”

Heart-rending cries accompanied about a hundred shouts. In the chaos of screaming, someone first yelled: “Everyone charge toward Beijing! Charge!” In an instant, heaven and earth moved. Everyone had found hope. The first group shouted and ran down the hills, followed by adults and children, men and women, old and young, all rushing forward together.

The Forbidden City before them was like the Pure Land described in Buddhist scriptures—there must be immortal maidens and divine Buddhas residing there. The little water drops cried and shouted—they wanted to rush to the Pure Land to find Guanyin Bodhisattva, to find Buddha himself. The little water drops wanted to ask for great wisdom.

Amid the excited shouting, suddenly soldiers appeared in the distance, retreating northward. Warnings immediately spread through the crowd: “Everyone be careful! The Son of Heaven’s troops are coming again!” “Don’t fear them! Those people are Loyalist Army! Everyone charge through!”

Last night they had encountered the Son of Heaven’s personal troops, and everyone was scared stiff. In the past they had only seen straw soldiers, never the Son of Heaven’s soldiers. These people wore golden armor, tall and mighty, calling themselves the Loyalist Army, endlessly proclaiming service to country and people, looking very formidable. After the fighting ended, the little water drops held hands and sang together:

“Loyalist Army, shining bright,

‘Serving country and people’ sounds so right—

But fighting like fox spirits!”

The Loyalist Army was useless—they might be fox spirits or bootlickers, but regardless of their names or identities, no one could stop the little water drops. Adults sang passionately and rushed out wildly, children were no longer afraid and simply held hands to follow quickly. Suddenly they heard that most familiar yet most grating sound in their ears.

“Wu—wu—” The procession ahead slowed down, and the sea of people behind had already stopped. Outside the Forbidden City was a white horse with a rider in heavy armor, alone with a single spear, holding a suona horn and blowing toward heaven.

“Wu—wu—” The suona sounded high and clear. Seeing the mounted rider’s attire, children immediately began crying, and adults trembled all over, because this military officer looked nothing like the Loyalist Army but rather like…

Rumble-rumble-dong, rumble-rumble-dong! Drum sounds arose as the Loyalist Army retreated to left and right flanks, revealing formations beneath the city walls. There were general after general, troops after troops—catapults, Hongwu cannons, and various long-range weapons were all dragged out. Their banner read:

“Zhengtong Army”—

Wind flew and sand rose, heaven and earth desolate. Commands came from below the city as a hundred thousand officers and soldiers parted down the middle, revealing the majestic figure under Fuchen Gate. He stood tall, breathing deeply, raising his arms and shouting: “Defend—the Capital!”

“Wu—wu, wu—wu!” The entire army raised their heads together and blew ten thousand suona horns. The sound grew louder and more stirring as everyone waved flags and shouted, heart-rending. In an instant, the three armies’ morale was greatly boosted—Divine Engine Camp, Vanguard Camp, Wuxing Inner Regiment Camp, Elite Cavalry Three Thousand Camp waved flags and shouted with such mighty prestige it covered heaven and earth.

“Zhengtong Army! Advance one step!”

Rumble-rumble-dong, rumble-rumble-dong! With thunderous drums, the great army began advancing. The first rank of Zhengtong officers were bare-chested, carrying large sabers, while soldiers behind them silently dragged cannons, step by step approaching the western sea of people.

The adults in the front rank felt afraid, their steps involuntarily retreating, because they recognized these people.

“Born in Cangwu, die at the Northern Border”—these people were not Loyalist Army nor garrison troops. They were the Zhengtong Army that had campaigned in the northwest, the world’s premier elite force.

The hungry ghosts retreated together. The surging torrent came to an abrupt halt. For nearly a month, this angry tide had been invincible—garrison troops and Loyalist Army had all been routed, yet here at the capital’s outskirts they were blocked by the Zhengtong Army. This showed how awesome this military force’s reputation was, like ghosts and spirits.

Below the city, killing intent filled the air; above the city was silent. At this time and place, no one in the world stood higher than Lu Yun. High on the ruined city, he gazed at the western suburbs outside the walls, seeing the hungry ghosts slowly retreating and gradually stopping. Below Fuchen Gate, drums thundered as a formation marched forward—in the freezing cold, everyone was bare-chested, holding sabers in left hands and leading sheep with right hands, facing the western sea of people in a human wall.

The Zhengtong Army had formed ranks. Unexpectedly, their vanguard had no helmets or shields—only sabers. These warriors all obeyed one person’s commands—iron-handed and iron-wristed, with steady bearing—this was Lu Yun’s old friend Wu Dingyuan.

The Zhengtong Army vanguard numbered about ten thousand, with large banners planted in their position marking their division designation as the Northern Border Four Garrisons. Under Lu Yun’s gaze, Wu Dingyuan silently walked to the center of the formation, lifted a hundred-pound bull crossbow with one arm, and with a creak of the string and pressure from his boot, had forcibly drawn open the bull crossbow.

Lu Yun had served as military staff and knew that above hard bows were foot crossbows, and above foot crossbows were bull crossbows. Bull crossbows were rigid as iron and required over twenty men to draw. But Wu Dingyuan’s divine strength was astounding—with a light press of one foot, he had opened the bull string. Looking at the cold light reflecting from the string, what was to be shot was not ordinary arrow feathers but a hundred-pound iron spear.

The iron spear rose high, pointing toward the sky as if to shoot through the sun itself. Lu Yun took a deep breath. A’Xiu and Hu Zhengtang hiding behind the battlements also felt their hearts and spirits stirred, not knowing what Uncle Wu intended to do.

“Vanguard, crouch!” In the breathless silence of ten thousand people, Gong Zhi passed down the command. In an instant, the Northern Border death warriors responded and sat down. As the multitude held their breath, the bull crossbow stretched more and more open until it was taut. Suddenly there was a tremendous “twang!” as the iron spear shot skyward and disappeared into the heavens. Everyone was puzzled, and just as they wondered, a small black dot fell from the sky. Sand and dust flew as the iron spear landed squarely in the ground. They heard Wu Dingyuan say quietly: “Entire army advance along the iron spear to form ranks.”

Suddenly everyone understood—this iron spear was a boundary line Wu Dingyuan had drawn. He would reclaim lost territory foot by foot.

“Entire—army advance—!” Four staff officers shouted in unison. With the command given, drum sounds arose again from the position.

Rumble-rumble-dong, rumble-rumble-dong! War drums urged and suona horns rang high. Led by ten thousand Northern Border warriors, Hongwu cannons, catapults, a hundred thousand troops, and Wu Dingyuan himself advanced step by step toward the iron spear. The little water drops were terrified and couldn’t help retreating. Millions of people were like an ocean tide forced to withdraw behind the boundary marker.

When the Zhengtong Army moved, all three armies moved. From the other side of the position came shouts: “Loyalist Army! Entire army form ranks!” With the command given, whooshing sounds arose as vermillion signal cannons, pure gold signal cannons, and green-yellow signal cannons lit fireworks that ignited and rose into the sky. Led by the Northern Border Four Garrisons, the Inner Regiment Camp from the south, Divine Engine Camp, Vanguard Camp from the north, and Elite Cavalry Three Thousand Camp all advanced together.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Fireworks successively rose to heaven and exploded in turn. In the thunderous explosions, Zhengtong and Loyalist forces had also arranged their formations, using Wu Dingyuan’s iron spear as boundary to deploy in a great linear formation. Looking from above, the capital’s suburbs were entirely seas of flags and people, with formations stretching over forty li.

Not having entered court for ten years, Lu Yun was also shocked and awed by this grand spectacle. He took a deep breath and glanced over to see little A’Xiu behind the battlements also opening her mouth wide. She was pressed close to Hu Zhengtang—both children were frightened yet excited, seeming to want to turn and run yet reluctant to leave this unprecedented scene.

The hungry ghosts, forced by this military might, had been pushed three li outside the city, clearing a large area below the walls. Both sides faced off, each keeping their troops still. Lu Yun also took a deep breath, wondering what Wu Dingyuan would do next.

A million troops stood in solemn silence as if waiting for someone. Suddenly a shout came from the inner city: “Open the city gate!”

“Open the city gate, open the city gate!” The voice went from far to near, then from near to far again. Lu Yun turned to look into the city and saw Daming Gate open, Guangding Gate open, and finally sounds came from below Fuchen Gate as the massive doors were pushed aside with difficulty. From the imperial city emerged a large procession of white horses—four riders in front, followed by four more, with precious eagle yellow hangings, officers in full golden armor, thirty-two cavalry total appearing in eight formations. In the center of the formation was clustered a royal standard bearing the characters for sun and moon.

The Sun-Moon Banner had reached the front lines. Lu Yun’s heart stirred as he thought: “Imperial envoys have arrived.”

This escort before them was commonly called the Great Han Generals, directly subordinate to Emperor Zhengtong’s golden steps before the hall. Each was tall and heroic with outstanding bearing, superior even to the Hulin and Yulin forces.

With loud clanking, Fuchen Gate opened westward, revealing this dynasty’s supreme Sun-Moon Banner. The western suburbs fell completely silent. Lu Yun, A’Xiu, and Hu Zhengtang all quieted down. At this moment, even the hungry ghosts stopped moving—everyone knew great events were about to unfold.

The Sun-Moon Banner—rallying cry for expelling Tatars! The Son of Heaven’s escort raised the royal standard and solemnly emerged from the city. Thirty-two white horses in perfect formation faced all living beings under heaven, bringing an aura of majesty. The million troops below slowly parted to clear a passage. With thundering hoofbeats, the Son of Heaven’s escort began charging forward. Suddenly the golden-armored captain raised both hands high and shouted at length: “Imperial edict arrives!”

A yellow proclamation unfurled in the sky, made of gold foil, sunlight reflecting sacred light illuminating the western earth. Thirty-two golden-armored warriors raised their heads and announced in unison: “We inherit Heaven’s sequence and rule over China and barbarians! All subjects under heaven—kneel to hear the gracious edict!”

“Your subject, Zhengtong Army Grand Commander Wu Dingyuan…” Under Lu Yun’s gaze, a great general below was first to dismount and kneel on one knee. From his form and position, this person was indeed Wu Dingyuan. Once the Grand Commander of Five Armies bowed down, continuous clanking sounds arose below as a hundred thousand officers’ sabers touched the ground, following their superior in kneeling. From the other side of the position also came sounds: “Your subject, Loyalist Army Grand Commander Zhu Qi, your subject, Vanguard Camp Commander Zhu Pan, your subject, Elite Cavalry Camp Commander Zhu Ji…”

“…jointly receive the gracious edict!” In an instant, a million soldiers responded and knelt. Wu Dingyuan bent in prostration, forehead touching ground, leading the million-strong army in shouting: “May our Emperor live ten thousand years, ten thousand years…”

“Ten thousand times ten thousand years!” Led by the Mighty Marquis, a million officers and soldiers chorused praise like thunder, carrying far from beneath Fuchen Gate. Since Pangu separated heaven and earth, there had never been such earth-shaking shouting. The disaster victims in the front ranks were shocked by this momentum—some retreated, some panicked, and some prostrated on the ground, kowtowing in terror to the edict.

The Son of Heaven represents the world’s justice. Emperor Zhengtong issued edicts to all living beings, manifesting humanity’s supreme great impartial way. Once some among the hungry ghosts were frightened into kneeling, those beside them immediately lay down as well, as if pulled by invisible spider webs. Viewed from the city walls, waves of people behind prostrated one after another, looking like ocean swells—truly spectacular.

The enterprise of protecting all living beings is what constitutes the state and nation. The Zhengtong Army Grand Commander, Loyalist Army Grand Commander, along with three Prince Commanders, 240 military supervisors, and a million troops all prostrated on the ground in solemn silence. Hu Zhengtang trembled slightly, A’Xiu’s face was pale—the two children looked at each other and also knelt together.

Before them, seas of banners fluttered—Northern Border, Divine Martial, Divine Grace, Divine Protection, Tiger Might, Leopard Strategy, Phoenix Soaring… Dozens of standards flew in the wind, glorious and upright, truly the dignity of state and nation. Before such national might, who dared not kneel, who dared not bow? Just as they were kowtowing and trembling, Hu Zhengtang glanced from the corner of his eye and suddenly saw someone still standing on the ruined city. He quickly pulled A’Xiu and whispered: “Look over there.”

A’Xiu hurriedly turned her head and was startled to see a man standing atop the city tower in brown cloth robes, facing west, neither kneeling nor moving. Hu Zhengtang said blankly: “Brother Xiu, who is this person? Why doesn’t he kneel?” A’Xiu replied in surprise: “Yes, how strange.”

Seeing all people under heaven prostrated, yet only this person stood alone in transcendent appearance. A’Xiu was full of doubt, only guessing at this person’s identity. But that person was unconscious of this—he gazed at the royal standard with a lonely expression, seeming to hesitate about something. Needless to say, this person was naturally Lu Yun.

Mencius said: “People have a common saying—’all under heaven, the state and nation.’ Anyone living in the world has their state and their family.” In his youth, Lu Yun devoted himself to imperial examinations and wandered in exile, claiming to “establish the heart for heaven and earth, establish destiny for the people”—weren’t all his actions also for these four characters: “state and nation under heaven”? Now the imperial edict had arrived and the Son of Heaven was issuing edicts to all under heaven. Should he kneel or not?

Under the two children’s gaze, they saw the nameless man’s lips murmuring as he faced the royal standard, slowly lifting his long robe. His body bent inch by inch until he too respectfully kowtowed.

Lu Yun knelt—not just him, but before the Son of Heaven’s royal standard and the righteous way, even if Confucius were reborn or Mencius returned to the world, they too would have to bow and show respectful courtesy. Because this was not bowing to the Son of Heaven but bowing to all under heaven.

“All under heaven belongs to all people under heaven.” Wu Dingyuan knelt, the Loyalist Army knelt, the Zhengtong Army knelt, millions of hungry ghosts knelt, and even Lu Yun knelt with both knees touching ground, kowtowing and praising. At this moment, all under heaven would finally be unified. Who could unify it? One who does not delight in killing people could unify it.

At this moment, all under heaven was unified under one ruler. The Son of Heaven’s sacred light illuminated the nine provinces. Throughout the nation, there was no other sound. Led by the Sun-Moon royal standard, thirty-two fine horses lined up and charged straight toward the front lines. Just reaching the foremost position, the golden-armored captain suddenly pulled the reins, raised the imperial proclamation high to show all living beings, and declared loudly: “By the Mandate of Heaven…”

“The Emperor’s edict!”

With the sacred title spoken, millions of people regardless of enemy or friend, nobility or baseness, all kowtowed and waited quietly for His Majesty’s sacred judgment.

“We have heard that sage Sons of Heaven cultivate virtue to bring peace to people and security to borders! Dragon diagrams over four seas, protecting all living beings!”

The golden-armored captain unfolded the sacred edict, faced the western sea of people, gathered his breath and proclaimed: “It is truly said that stabilizing the state lies in honoring the ruler; honoring the ruler lies in carrying out commands. When one person has cause for celebration, millions of people rely on this for peace. Only the eternally well-governed age can lean on the door and gaze…”

Earlier when the imperial envoy appeared, it was solemn and magnificent, but now reading the edict was long-winded and full of flowery language, somewhat incomprehensible. The hungry ghosts naturally stole glances at each other—no one could understand. Listening to the distant sea of people murmuring, apparently the golden-armored captain’s voice was insufficient and didn’t carry far, so people in back were still trying to hear.

The hungry ghosts whispered privately without much reverence. But Lu Yun’s expression was solemn. He knew this edict was no small matter. Now millions of hungry ghosts had gathered at the capital—they must have come seeking something. Whether the court would make peace or war all lay in His Majesty’s single thought.

Lu Yun atop the city waited quietly for the sacred judgment, not daring to miss a single word. The million troops below were also completely silent. They heard the envoy continue: “Since We ascended the throne, all within and without have followed, the four seas are peaceful, and all under heaven is greatly stabilized. You people have come thousands of li only to pay court to the imperial countenance and present memorials of loyalty—We are greatly comforted. However, to prevent fields from lying fallow and villages from unrest, We command all people to return to their original places to fill granaries and repay imperial grace. By this edict.”

The edict’s reading was complete, but Lu Yun couldn’t help being greatly shocked—he never expected the court actually wanted the hungry ghosts to return home. As for what wishes they had or matters of staying, leaving, life and death, the edict didn’t mention a single word. The golden-armored captain had shouted himself hoarse and his voice was somewhat raspy, so he first swallowed saliva and cleared his throat before shouting: “Give thanks!”

Hearing “give thanks,” the hungry ghosts blinked, seeming to wait for more. But the golden-armored captain said nothing more. After a long, long time, they heard him roar: “You should give thanks! Don’t you understand?” With these words, below the city Wu Dingyuan led them in kowtowing and praising: “Ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand times ten thousand years!” Though the hungry ghosts didn’t know what the Emperor wanted to do, since others were kowtowing, how could they not? So they too followed in chaotic bowing and shouting “ten thousand years” to show they were also loyal.

After shouting “ten thousand years,” they didn’t know what to do next. The hungry ghosts sat down—some took out dry rations to eat, some stared blankly waiting to see the envoys dance. The golden-armored captain understood the common people’s ignorance and wasn’t surprised. He immediately waved his hand and thirty-two warriors shouted in unison: “Return to your villages! To comfort Our heart! Our heart is greatly comforted! Return to your villages!”

The golden-armored warriors came prepared and kept repeating these same few words with uniform voices. But after shouting for a long time, the hungry ghosts still looked at each other without anyone leaving. The golden-armored captain suppressed his anger and said solemnly: “Listen well! The Emperor hopes you will quickly return home. Understand?” Finally understanding—so the Emperor wanted the people to quickly go home. The hungry ghosts all became happy and took out pots, bowls, ladles, and basins, spreading out bedding. Apparently they had long made heaven and earth their home and now wanted to go to bed and rest.

The golden-armored captain was stunned and could only say: “Everyone, grateful for heavenly grace, you have come from afar to the capital hoping to make the capital suburbs your home. Though this comes from sincere hearts, it inevitably obstructs internal and external traffic…” With these words, the hungry ghosts suddenly parted to both sides like a sea splitting open, leaving a passage—a spectacular sight. The golden-armored captain was dumbfounded and could only cough a few times: “Though you have cleared the road, you still occupy the capital gates and make merry noise—where does this leave the capital’s people? Where does this leave the Son of Heaven’s dignity? I will now count to three. If you still occupy this place and refuse to leave, you will be violating the sacred edict and will be severely punished according to criminal law!” He surveyed the surroundings, raised his hand over his shoulder, and slowly bent his fingers, saying coldly: “One!”

Hearing the Emperor wanted to drive them away, the hungry ghosts looked at each other and unanimously fell silent. Lu Yun took a deep breath and finally understood the court’s intentions. From the very beginning, they never intended to let the hungry ghosts enter the capital, nor did they plan to hear these people’s grievances—they wanted to let them fend for themselves. In the complete silence, the golden-armored captain looked around sternly and bent another finger, saying gravely: “Two…”

The hungry ghosts showed terror and seemed to have signs of fleeing. The golden-armored captain took a deep breath, glared sternly and said: “Three!”

The count was finished. Just waiting for the hungry ghosts to collapse in chaos with crying and screaming, but these people only blinked—no one moved, and quite a few were giggling and pointing at the envoy, treating him like a madman. The golden-armored captain was extremely angry and sternly said again: “Don’t you understand? Three!” Just as he was about to say more, laughter came from the crowd: “Four!”

“Audacious unruly people!” the golden-armored captain angrily said: “The sacred edict is here—who dares be presumptuous? Come out!” One hungry ghost stood up timidly. In a flash, a second, third, fourth—everyone rose like bamboo shoots after rain, thousands and tens of thousands forming a spectacular procession. The golden-armored captain was shocked and hastily said: “Who told you to stand up? All kneel down!”

“Roar!” With the command given, hundreds of thousands again knelt in unison, sand and dust flying like heaven and earth shaking, lasting long without ceasing.

Even Lu Yun and A’Xiu far atop the city walls felt the tremor. The golden-armored captain felt slightly intimidated and looked back to see both Loyalist and Zhengtong elite forces had deployed defenses, so he needn’t fear. He summoned fierce energy and said sternly: “I warn you one final time—the sacred will has been decided. You must retreat immediately on the spot. If you violate the sacred will, don’t blame swords for having no eyes—immediate execution without mercy! Every one of you will die unnatural deaths…”

The envoy finally spoke that word: death. Occupy and refuse to leave—death. Violate the sacred edict—death. Obediently go home—starve to death.

The hungry ghosts opened their mouths wide, bodies trembling slightly. The golden-armored captain sternly warned: “I count to three again. Listen carefully… One… Two…”

“Three!” With the word “three” spoken, the earth suddenly thundered as hundreds of millions of living beings roared in response: “Kill—three! Kill! Roar roar kill kill kill!” Thunder arose from the great grasslands like heaven’s fury, like the mountains and rivers’ howl. Western dust and smoke flew as sand drifted higher and higher, blotting out the sky. Hu Zhengtang said tremblingly: “Brother Xiu, the hungry ghosts are angry! What do we do?” A’Xiu was just a child—how would she know what to do? The sacred edict had triggered rebellion. Below the city, hungry ghosts stomped and beat their chests, some throwing sand and mud. The wilderness thundered—who knew how many people were crying out strangely. In a flash, hundreds of stones flew skyward and rained down like a storm.

“Retreat! Retreat!” The golden-armored captain, struck by over a hundred stones and already bleeding from the head, could only turn his horse around and flee in panic.

Flying stones rained from the sky as the Loyalist Army fell into chaos. Prince Hui, as commander, couldn’t allow his troops to scatter and immediately raised his whip, shouting angrily: “Wuxing Inner Regiment Camp! Hold your positions!” “Elite Cavalry Three Thousand Camp! No retreating!”

The sea of people began advancing. The hungry ghosts were too numerous, surging toward the capital like angry waves with truly overwhelming momentum. A’Xiu and Hu Zhengtang embraced each other, trembling. Several times they wanted to flee down from the ruined city, but their legs seemed filled with vinegar—they couldn’t even stand.

Lu Yun trembled slightly. Only now did he realize his mistake. The hungry ghosts paid no attention to the imperial envoy at all. Their ability to reach this point didn’t depend on the Emperor’s charity or the court’s accommodation—their ability to break through to this point relied on their own strength. From the beginning, they were prepared to turn hostile. What could make them feel apprehensive was only the Zhengtong Army before them.

The capital was in imminent danger. Lu Yun had no leisure to consider the children’s feelings. He gazed intently at Fuchen Gate below, seeing the Zhengtong Army standing at the very front of the sea of ghosts, about to bear the first assault.

“Hold steady!” Wu Dingyuan raised his iron hand and said solemnly: “Entire army hold steady!”

Wu Dingyuan had no retreat—a few feet behind him was the capital. If the Zhengtong Army was routed, Beijing would also fall. Looking at these hungry ghosts full of hateful fire, once they broke through the city gates, the capital would become a living hell. Flying stones came head-on as horses neighed in fear and were pressed down by cavalry. Infantry used their bodies as shields—some struck on steel helmets, others on iron armor. Everyone lowered their heads and endured. The first rank of Northern Border warriors bore the brunt, already covered in blood, while sheep beside them bleated in terror, frightened beyond measure.

“Cavalry dismount, infantry advance!” Commands came from the rear of the formation from Gong Zhi: “Yan Feng and Gao Jiong, step forward to parley!”

The Zhengtong Army’s strategy was clear—they absolutely couldn’t retreat, yet they also couldn’t lightly start hostilities. If both sides fought until blood flowed like rivers, it would only enrage the hungry ghosts further. Then with united hearts, once they disregarded even their lives, how could a hundred thousand Zhengtong troops, however brave, match millions of starving people? The current plan was for Wu Dingyuan to reason with the starving people, forcing them to retreat in the face of difficulty.

Under the Northern Border warriors’ protection, a hundred messengers rushed from the formation, all holding official documents and shouting in unison: “By this dynasty’s laws—” A hundred messengers shouted together. These men either practiced internal arts or had naturally booming voices that could carry far, but under millions of hungry ghosts’ clamoring, who could hear their words? Wu Dingyuan took the document from his subordinate’s hands, personally stepped forward, and led the group in shouting: “By this dynasty’s laws! Those who come are ordered to disperse on the spot and return to their villages! Do not test the law or resist commands!” Wu Dingyuan’s internal power was profound—he actually pierced through the noisy shouting to be heard across the wilderness. The messengers’ morale was greatly boosted as they loudly called: “You disturb public order and obstruct major thoroughfares! You have already violated the law!” “You ignore law and order, gathering to roar! According to law, you must be severely dealt with!” As soon as these words ended, angry responses immediately came from the sea of ghosts: “Law—what is this ‘law’? Making us obediently starve to death—that’s your law?”

Dong, dong, dong! Dong, dong, dong! Stones poured down from the sky. Northern Border warriors were forced to raise their hands to protect their heads and faces. Amid curses, suddenly a sob came from deep in the sea of people: “Your Majesty! We want to see Your Majesty!” The sobbing became wailing: “Yes! Tell Your Majesty to come out! Tell Your Majesty to come out! We only want to speak with him alone! Your Majesty! Come out and see us! Your Majesty!” Millions of hungry ghosts cried out in great sorrow—some wronged, some resentful—but the Zhengtong Army just wouldn’t clear the way. The hungry ghosts suddenly united in heart and shouted in unison: “Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” In the earth-shaking calls, heaven itself was calling the Son of Heaven. But the Emperor didn’t appear. The hungry ghosts turned from sorrow to resentment, from resentment to hatred. Suddenly everyone took a deep breath and shouted together: “Dog Emperor! Come out here!” The hungry ghosts were enraged. The earth seemed to rumble with thunder as their shouts reached the sky’s vault, startling heaven and earth. It was early morning—most of the capital’s people were still sleeping peacefully in their dreams. Once they heard this angry roar, countless people would wake in fright.

“Dog Emperor! Come out here!” “Come out! You Dog Emperor!” Millions of little water drops became towering waves rushing toward the city below. The two sides were originally separated by about three hundred feet, but in the blink of an eye were only about a hundred feet apart—close combat could break out at any moment. All officers and soldiers gritted their teeth and kept their heads down without moving, while Wu Dingyuan raised his iron hand and said solemnly: “Entire army prepare… prepare…”

The little water drops came crying and cursing forward, about to meet the Northern Border death warriors head-on. Suddenly Wu Dingyuan gave a sharp shout and dropped his iron hand. With a tremendous whoosh, soldiers in the formation strode forward, raised their arms, and hurled urgently—ten thousand javelins flew into the air and plummeted down.

“Mama!” “Papa!” Children cried out as the crowd scattered in panic. Sand and dust flew on the ground as a row of javelins appeared before them. The Zhengtong Army’s training was precise—this time ten thousand spears were thrown skyward, but when they landed they were perfectly orderly, as if forming a boundary line that blocked the onrushing mad tide.

“Entire army, listen to orders!” Wu Dingyuan’s beard bristled as he raised his arms and roared: “Anyone daring to cross this line one step will be executed on the spot!”

Creak, creak! Bowstrings tightened as rear archers drew bows and nocked arrows. Front infantry placed hands on sword hilts, everyone’s eyes gleaming fiercely with intent to kill.

“Your Majesty!” Millions of little water drops cried out in unison: “Let us enter the capital!”

“Wu—wu wu wu—” Wu Dingyuan personally took the horn and blew with full breath. His skill was no less than Qin Baxian’s of old—when he blew the horn, it truly sounded like a dragon’s mournful cry, awesome in its power. Led by the Grand Commander, horn after horn was taken up as the entire army responded above and below, sounds rising straight to the blue sky and echoing through the clouds.

“Disperse on the spot and return to your villages!” “Severe punishment according to law! Absolutely no leniency!” Led by their commander, a hundred thousand troops sternly warned: “No road ahead! No food ahead! Ahead there is only… death!” With this threat, sharp suona sounds arose again from the Zhengtong Army: “Wu—wu wu wu—” Under the Zhengtong Army’s intimidation and obstruction, the hungry ghosts could neither advance nor retreat. Some sat on the ground in bewilderment, some lowered their heads and sobbed—everyone was confused and helpless.

The Chu River and Han boundary—before them, javelins stood inviolable as the court’s established line for war. If hungry ghosts stepped one foot across this line, the Grand Commander’s Zhengtong Army would show no mercy.

The situation could retreat no further—the slightest mishap would plunge the capital into flames. Wu Dingyuan understood in his heart that to make the hungry ghosts fall apart, he must use supreme military might to pressure them into yielding. Only by overwhelming them in momentum could he force these people to disperse.

The hungry ghosts wept. To them, the Zhengtong Army was actually like another group of Nu Cang heroes—not fearing hardship or difficulty, viewing death as homecoming, constantly fighting on empty stomachs. But the hungry ghosts just didn’t understand why the Zhengtong Army, with their righteous bones, insisted on making things difficult for them. They were all people—northwestern people were people, and capital people were also people. Why did the Zhengtong Army always favor some over others, only willing to protect the capital while turning a blind eye to their hunger, cold, and broken homes? What was the reason? Could it be they were really so worthless?

Thinking of this, everyone raised their heads as tears poured from their eyes. In an instant, another word floated up in their hearts: Dogs. They were all dogs—rich people’s dogs.

Tears fell to the grassland, becoming dewdrops that seeped into the dust. The second drop, third drop, five drops, six drops, seven, eight drops, nine drops, ten drops, millions of drops. Water is the strangest thing under heaven—three thousand weak waters, you can take one ladle to drink, but pour out three thousand ladles and they can unite as one. When seventeen million little water drops gathered in one place, what shape would they become?

“We’ll die anyway! Everyone charge into the capital! Kill—” Someone in the distance shouted as the sea of people gathered again and charged toward the javelin barrier, shouting sternly: “Kill them! Kill them! Drag out the Dog Emperor! Kill his whole family!” Large numbers of angry hungry ghosts roared in fury, all crossing the boundary. Wu Dingyuan gave a long howl: “Northern Border warriors! Attack!”

Blade light flashed below the city. A’Xiu screamed and gripped Hu Zhengtang’s hand tightly. They closed their eyes together.

Since encountering the hungry ghosts, the vanguard warriors drew their sabers for the first time. Suddenly there were mournful wails as blade edges rose and fell below the city walls. A sea of blood reached the sky as ten thousand white sheep couldn’t escape in time—sheep heads fell to the ground, poor front hooves still pawing and struggling, unbearable to watch.

Ten thousand sheep were sacrificed. They were slain and died below the city, drops of fresh blood falling on yellow sand to form a line between life and death, forcing the hungry ghosts to cry out and retreat.

“Do not doubt the court’s resolve!” Wu Dingyuan personally advanced to the front lines, raising his iron hand to the sky and howling wildly: “Zhengtong Army—entire army advance!”

Boom step! Boom step! Boom boom step! Boom boom step! With incomparably cruel military might, the Zhengtong Army set out. Ten thousand Northern Border warriors, bare-chested and carrying bloody sabers, stepped toward the western sea of people. Behind them, a hundred thousand troops immediately mounted horses to march out against the enemy.

The Zhengtong Army didn’t fight back when hit or curse back when reviled, but these men were not straw soldiers. As soon as Wu Dingyuan gave the command, the greatest massacre since the Zhengtong restoration would begin.

“Withdraw from the capital region!” Wu Dingyuan’s beard bristled as he said sternly: “Anyone daring to linger will be executed without mercy!”

“Wuu!” A hungry ghost child crouched on the ground, covering his face and crying. The adults also stared down blankly, speechless.

Hungry stomachs, dirty bodies, red eyes—they had traveled across thousands of mountains and rivers, begging all the gods and Buddhas in heaven to give them an answer. But in the end, at the final hurdle, was it still all for nothing?

Tears of disappointment fell drop by drop. The hungry ghosts knew they had lost. They feared the Zhengtong Army—no one dared fight head-on.

The sea of people behind began to disperse as people slowly turned and left.

The hungry ghosts had conceded defeat. They had to leave, but where else could they go? Having lost hope, could they still live?

There was no choice—hungry ghosts couldn’t enter the city. Even someone as mischievous as A’Xiu knew hungry ghosts couldn’t enter the capital. If they entered the city, the capital would become a sea of fire. A’Xiu lowered her head in confusion, feeling sad, when she suddenly heard Hu Zhengtang say: “Brother Xiu, look at that person.” A’Xiu quickly turned her head to see the nameless man still standing on the watchtower, his eye sockets reddening, growing redder and redder, gradually becoming as red as the hungry ghosts.

Unconsciously, Lu Yun had also shed tears. A disappointing world, a disappointing realm under heaven—no one could find an answer.

Even if Lu Yun was here, he was powerless to help.

The tide of people receded like great waters, withdrawing from the boundary set by the Zhengtong Army. No one knew where they would go—only that these people had become a scattered mob about to vanish like smoke.

Seeing the hungry ghosts retreat, commanders of all divisions breathed sighs of relief and were about to order an advance when they noticed one person still remained in the wilderness.

A small child faced the rows of stern javelins. He looked so little—probably even younger than A’Xiu—but whether he was lost or had lost his parents, he covered his face and sobbed.

A hundred thousand troops looked at each other and all stopped. Staff officers exchanged glances, trying to find a way to scare him away. Gao Jiong called loudly: “Child! Follow your parents! Don’t linger here!” The child cried: “I have no parents.” Yan Feng said sternly: “Then you still can’t linger here! Go quickly!” The child sobbed: “I’m hungry.” He wiped away tears and slowly lifted his foot to take a step toward the capital.

Unconsciously, everyone heard a sound—

BOOM!

A million troops felt their bodies sway and stepped back one pace. Millions of hungry ghosts also sensed something strange as they stopped one by one to watch the child’s back.

This step was like a god descending, shaking the northern grasslands. The child who separated from the crowd—he turned his back on his companions to face the capital. Though his steps were unsteady, he still bravely faced ten thousand death warriors, slowly approaching the javelin barrier, ready to break through at any moment.

Small bare feet lifted from the ground, about to step on the muddy grass again when suddenly an arrow descended from the sky, falling before the child, missing his body by mere inches. The child was startled and involuntarily stopped. This arrow was a warning—if the child took another step, the next arrow would hit his body without mercy.

The child trembled all over, not daring to move. Lu Yun, A’Xiu, and Hu Zhengtang atop the city walls, as well as Prince Hui, Prince De, and Northern Border warriors below—everyone watched intently, waiting to see the child’s next move. Would he advance or flee?

The vast rivers and mountains were silent as everyone waited for his decision. The child’s eyes were red. He looked back at his companions, looked up at the sky, and took a deep breath.

Hungry stomach, dirty face—the child before them had no father or mother, couldn’t write, couldn’t speak. He had nothing left, but he needn’t be afraid because there was still one person in the world who would pity him, cherish him, and care for him. His name was… “Your Majesty!” The child cried out and lifted his right foot, stepping across the Zhengtong Army’s barrier.

BOOM! In an instant, rivers and mountains shook, the state trembled. This step hurt the realm under heaven—even if a true dragon were here, he couldn’t help but change color in shock and fear.

“By this dynasty’s laws! No one may cross the boundary!” “By our Emperor’s sacred edict! We command you to retreat!”

Wu wu, wu wu! Suona horns rang high as all soldiers faced great enemies. They saw officers ahead spurring horses in a charge while archers behind all drew bows—swords like forests, arrows like rain. A million soldiers sternly warned, but the child acted as if he heard nothing, only straightening his chest and boldly crossing the boundary. He feared nothing—he only wanted to find his Emperor.

Northern Border death warriors took deep breaths, their hands gripping sabers trembling slightly. Everyone turned to look back at their formation, waiting for their superior’s command.

The Zhengtong Army had lost control—they couldn’t suppress the situation. The first person to cross would soon have a second imitating him, and eventually large numbers of hungry ghosts would follow the child’s footsteps, all crossing the boundary toward the capital.

Gong Zhi sighed quietly. He brought an iron-bodied great bow and presented it before Wu Dingyuan.

Here and now, what suppressed the entire field was killing intent—anyone daring to cross the line one step would be killed without mercy. If this child was spared, the other hungry ghosts would follow. Even a million Loyalist troops couldn’t control them, let alone a hundred thousand Zhengtong troops. When both sides clashed head-on, the Zhengtong Army had absolutely no chance of victory.

Hungry ghosts weren’t fools—they would act according to circumstances. If Wu Dingyuan let people think he was a paper tiger, the capital couldn’t be defended. His wife and daughter were in the city. As a father and as a subject, he couldn’t let starving people break into the city—he must suppress the disaster victims.

The towering figure under Fuchen Gate remained motionless, gazing at the young child’s form with solemn expression. Lu Yun and A’Xiu atop the city walls, the Loyalist Army and Zhengtong Army below—everyone waited to see how he would respond.

Under millions of people’s gaze, Wu Dingyuan breathed extremely slowly as he slowly extended his iron hand to grasp the bow handle.

A’Xiu was startled—she never expected Uncle Wu was really preparing to shoot and kill this child. She and Hu Zhengtang looked at each other, hearts full of uncertainty. Though other soldiers felt reluctant, they didn’t dare step forward to dissuade him.

There was no choice—if Wu Dingyuan didn’t do this, what else could he do? Could he really let hungry ghosts enter? At this moment, everyone had to choose sides—this was what separated the court and Nu Cang into distinct camps.

Wu Dingyuan drew the bowstring full, suppressed his breathing, and slowly aimed at the child who had crossed the boundary. A’Xiu and Hu Zhengtang both closed their eyes, unable to bear watching. But Lu Yun’s gaze never wavered, only observing his old friend’s every move.

Suddenly there was a “twang!” as Wu Dingyuan released the arrow. The flying shaft broke through the air as the child also shrank his neck, closing his eyes to await death. Suddenly there was a cry of surprise as all around expressed shock and amazement. The child opened his eyes in bewilderment to find himself standing perfectly well—not only not dead but completely unharmed. This arrow had only grazed past him to pin into the mud at his feet.

In an instant, millions of hungry ghosts burst into cheers—Wu Dingyuan had missed! The arrow missed by inches but was off by thousands of li. Lu Yun’s heart was crystal clear—this was intentional. How could a true dragon’s martial arts be so strong yet miss when shooting a small child? Without question, he couldn’t bear to do it.

The light of hope ignited again as hungry ghost after hungry ghost turned eastward. Adults in the front rank joined hands to form human walls, one by one following the child’s footsteps to advance toward the capital.

With this precedent set, all under heaven moved. Seeing Wu Dingyuan couldn’t bear to act, what were the defending troops to do? Northern Border death warriors took deep breaths and turned to gaze at Wu Dingyuan. Though their mouths spoke no words, their eyes expressed everything.

The situation reversed rapidly. Staff officers looked at each other as Gao Jiong said solemnly: “I’ll do it.” He removed bow and arrows from his back, but before drawing the bow, Gong Zhi stopped him, shaking his head: “No, you shooting won’t work.”

The Zhengtong Army had its rules—when facing crises and difficulties, those of higher rank must lead the charge to show responsibility. Looking at the officers present, who could rank higher than Wu Dingyuan? If he couldn’t bear to kill, he shouldn’t use others’ hands. If he felt this matter was bloody and foul, gathering all the world’s infamy upon himself, why should he make subordinates bear this sin?

One final chance—no more missing. Gong Zhi brought an arrow: “Grand Commander, please.”

Wu Dingyuan began to tremble. Despite his true dragon physique bearing ten thousand pounds of strength, at this moment his arms shook uncontrollably. Gong Zhi gave a look as Gao Jiong and others all approached to support Wu Dingyuan together. Gong Zhi stood beside his superior to help him draw the full bow together.

Gong Zhi’s intention was clear—he wanted to accompany the Grand Commander in taking the plunge. Wu Dingyuan couldn’t bear this sin alone.

Wu Dingyuan gasped and panted, exerting force several times but unable to hold the bow and arrow steady. The aftereffects caused Gong Zhi to sway left and right, unable even to stand firm. Seeing hungry ghosts gathering more and more as the child walked faster, yet Northern Border death warriors showed no intention of raising swords—everyone lowered their heads with no fighting spirit. But the Grand Commander just couldn’t hold steady a small bow and arrow. Staff officers were extremely anxious, thinking how to persuade him, when suddenly a great roar came from behind: “Wu Dingyuan!”

Hoofbeats thundered as over a hundred swift horses escorted a prince galloping forward—the Loyalist Army Grand Commander had arrived. He rode into the Zhengtong Army’s main formation angrily: “Wu Dingyuan! You speak fine military strategy! Something about ‘rather die in battle than abandon isolated brothers’! Tell me yourself! What is the second article of Zhengtong military discipline?”

Prince Hui Zhu Qi arrived at the main formation, cursing loudly. How could the Zhengtong Army tolerate outsiders causing trouble? Both sides were already pushing and shouting as Prince Hui called from outside the human wall: “Wu Dingyuan! ‘The general leads his soldiers!’ The court has fought for ten years and can’t settle one small Nu Cang Mountain—it’s all because of you bastard! Your subordinates all kill like hemp, yet you’re here pretending to be a good person, being fake, learning woman’s compassion? Do you still have face to meet the brothers who died in battle for you?”

“The general leads his soldiers.” As the army’s great general, if he cannot lead the charge, then soldiers will be confused. If he cannot inspire the three armies but instead dampens their will, then soldiers will doubt. If the three armies are both confused and doubtful, how can they not be defeated?

The hungry ghosts drew ever closer, everyone’s face carrying smiles and radiant hope, while Northern Border warriors remained silent, still awaiting their superior’s orders. Amid the clamoring and cursing, Wu Dingyuan suddenly sighed: “Forget it.”

Gao Jiong and others were slightly stunned and about to speak when Gong Zhi pulled his comrades back, signaling everyone to step aside.

Wu Dingyuan was silent for a long while, then slowly lifted the great bow, drew the string full, and aimed at that child. Seeing this, Loyalist Army officers and soldiers all cheered loudly: “Well done! Truly worthy of today’s War God! Indeed the model for all under heaven!” Gao Jiong and others’ anger flared as they drove away all idle onlookers, while Gong Zhi said nothing and silently attended at his side.

The gates of hell opened. Sunlight shone down, warm on his body. Wu Dingyuan squinted and gently exhaled, about to release his fingers when he suddenly heard a shout from afar: “Wu—Constable!”

Wu Dingyuan’s whole body shook—this extremely familiar voice seemed to come from an old friend’s mouth. He opened his mouth wide when suddenly there was a tremendous “crack!” as the bowstring released and the arrow still flew from the string.

Wu Dingyuan cried out in pain. Seeing the arrow’s fierce momentum about to pin the young child to the ground, at that critical moment a whip flew from beyond the sky, coiled around the child, pulled and yanked, throwing him skyward. Before the child could cry out, an arm reached out in mid-air and steadily caught him.

The arrow shot empty, piercing the ground up to its fletching—showing how profound the true force attached to the arrow was. Everyone was shocked, and before they could speak, they heard a desolate voice from the sea of people saying quietly: “Wu Dingyuan.” Wu Dingyuan looked up in amazement to see a blue-gray horse standing in the sea of ghosts, massive in size, carrying a ten-foot divine general. All generals shouted in unison: “Lu Guzhan!”

Lu Guzhan had appeared! He sat on his horse with his back to the sea of people, at the crucial moment throwing out his whip to save the child’s life.

“Come!” Prince Hui spurred his horse forward, shouting sternly: “Capture Lu Guzhan!”

With the Nu Cang elder appearing, all generals hesitated no more—everyone shouted, some spurring horses, others drawing swords, ready to attack en masse.

As the great army was about to surround him, Lu Guzhan remained unconcerned. He was seen holding the orphaned chick, standing his horse at the very front of the battlefield, bending forward to ask from afar: “Wu Dingyuan, above eighty-three, add one more number—do you know why?”

Wu Dingyuan opened his mouth wide, actually struck speechless. Lu Guzhan smiled and answered himself: “It’s just killing one more person, isn’t it?” Wu Dingyuan slowly lowered his head, his face turning blue-purple, seeming to want to say something but unable to speak. Lu Guzhan watched him for a while, then turned his horse around and left on his own.

Prince Hui was extremely furious: “Surnamed Lu! If you have something to say, say it to this prince! Don’t make snide remarks to Wu Dingyuan!” He took up his precious iron bow, drew it full, and shot toward Lu Guzhan’s back.

Open spears are easy to dodge, hidden arrows hard to guard against. Prince Hui was skilled with troops—this arrow was both fast and urgent. Lu Guzhan seemed completely unaware and was about to bleed from injury when suddenly a flying arrow came sideways through the air, with a “swoosh” first shooting down Prince Hui’s long arrow, then a second arrow came with a loud “clang” and had already shattered Prince Hui’s heart-protecting mirror.

Seeing the newcomer’s such divine archery—first intercepting arrows, then shooting people—all generals were amazed for a while, then shouted angrily in unison: “Fire-Eyed Suanni!” Before the words ended, iron hooves thundered outside the formation as snow and mud splattered, and two riders spurred their horses forward, one left and one right, protecting Lu Guzhan.

“Counterattack!” Gong Zhi shouted loudly as Gao Jiong, Yan Feng and others quickly took arrows with continuous “swoosh” sounds, nocking bows, drawing strings, and aiming to shoot with movements of absolute speed—clearly the skill of continuous arrows. Prince Hui gave a “hey” and also took up bow and arrows, while a hundred personal troops behind him, without waiting for their superior’s command, also drew bows and nocked arrows, shooting out large numbers of arrows.

With Loyalist and Zhengtong dual armies combining forces, how could their power be small? They saw swift arrows flying like flowers filling the sky. The two mounted generals were not to be outdone and immediately drew their bowstrings full. Though only two people, each had twelve long arrows nocked on their bowstrings. With a “twang,” swift arrows vibrated strings and broke through the air, directly exchanging shots with the court generals.

Arrows from both sides passed through each other with continuous “swoosh” sounds. The court commanders’ arrows were actually intercepted mid-air and fell one by one, while the enemy not only had astounding accuracy but also surpassed others in the skill of drawing and shooting arrows. How could Gao Jiong, himself a divine archer, endure this? With a “hey,” he reached back into his arrow quiver, but before he could draw out arrows, he heard a tremendous sound breaking through air as twenty-four more arrows flew through the sky.

Clang, clang, keng, keng! Sparks flew as Zhengtong Army officers and soldiers raised shields to protect their faces. In this exchange of shots across space, though Nu Cang had only two people present, they had already achieved complete victory. The two riders rode away with contempt. When the generals looked through gritted teeth, they saw the small legs on the stirrups were round and slender—sitting on the saddles were actually a pair of Western Region beauties with high noses and large eyes, truly gorgeous in appearance. In the midst of amazement, they heard Prince Hui roar: “Cavalry march out!”

Rumble! Rumble! Large numbers of iron cavalry divided into four directions to surround and capture everyone when a female general held bow and arrow and shot another arrow through the air. This arrow’s path was strange—it actually went skyward. Gong Zhi felt a chill in his heart and urgently shouted: “Protect the commander’s flag!”

Gong Zhi was a step too late—before his words ended, a cloth banner had already floated down from the sky, precisely the Zhengtong Army flag that the entire army valued as life itself.

This commander’s flag was always the army’s most important object—with the flag present, men lived; with the flag fallen, the army died. Seeing the commander’s flag fall to the ground, everyone felt doubly humiliated and was about to fight desperately when the enemy struck even more fiercely. The bowstring twanged again with another arrow, and all generals shouted excitedly: “The Sun-Moon Flag!”

The Sun-Moon royal flag was about to fall! The entire field cried out in panic, all ready to risk their lives to save it. At the crucial moment, Yan Feng quickly lowered the flagpole by a foot. With a “whoosh,” the incoming arrow shot empty, finally preserving the royal flag from loss.

Nu Cang female generals had bullied their way to the door—what could be tolerated if this could not be? With a “swish,” Gao Jiong drew his sword in great anger and shouted sternly: “Zhengtong Army!”

“Charge!” Hand-to-hand combat broke out as killing shouts arose loudly. Infantry charged from the formation as the first row of Northern Border death warriors charged forward bravely. Suddenly large numbers of arrows flew from the hungry ghost formation, blocking the advance, followed by a banner moving through the sea of ghosts—white background with green characters reading: “Jiangdong Sail Shadow Lu.”

Jiangdong children soldiers appeared—this military force of about two thousand was all Lu Guzhan’s trusted troops, stationed in the rear of the sea of ghosts all along, protecting and caring for them on the journey. Now they finally appeared and formed ranks. Gong Zhi raised the command flag and called clearly: “Catapults!”

As the command flag fell, soldiers cut ropes one after another. Thousand-pound boulders flew from beyond the sky with a “boom,” then another “boom” as mud and sand splashed all around, smashing out deep pit after deep pit. Jiangdong archers spurred their horses to dodge, and the two Nu Cang female generals also quickly turned their horses, hoping to escape back into the western sea of people. Gao Jiong angrily said: “Catch these two females! Blood sacrifice to the Zhengtong Army flag!”

Catapults were long-range weapons—bows and arrows couldn’t reach them, cavalry couldn’t attack them. Under the cover of flying stones, the Zhengtong Army flanked left and right, about to capture the Nu Cang female generals when suddenly a loud sound broke through the air. A golden melon hammer flew from afar—massive throughout, weighing a hundred pounds—flying over the crowd and heavily striking a catapult. The catapult collapsed under the force, slowly tilting right and hitting a second one. In the thunderous crash, it knocked down over ten in succession. For a moment, ropes snapped and boulders were thrown in reverse, flying into the capital city.

The newcomer with such divine might was Lu Guzhan personally taking action. The golden melon hammer weighed over a hundred pounds, yet he could throw it freely, hitting the target precisely and knocking down over ten catapults in succession.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Giant stones traced arcs and fell into the capital one after another—who knew what civilian houses were crushed? The inner city immediately erupted in commotion. Hu Zhengtang said tremblingly: “Brother Xiu, the stones seem to be flying toward the school!” A’Xiu said with great joy: “Really?”

Just as they were getting excited, Gong Zhi below the city was extremely furious, shouting sternly: “Gunners forward! Prepare—” Before the command was given, a flying arrow struck head-on, hitting right in the shoulder socket and fiercely shooting him off his horse.

“He’s down! He’s down!” The hungry ghosts cheered like thunder, one by one crossing the defense line and about to rush toward the capital when suddenly a figure flashed—a big man blocked the front of the ten thousand troops. Like a rabbit rising and hawk falling, he lifted his foot and kicked up the base beam of a catapult, then bent down and grasped ten zhang of nanmu wood with one arm, giving a great roar and sweeping horizontally.

“Save us!” The nanmu wood swept head-on as hungry ghosts cried and scattered like an ocean tide retreating, and the giant wood swept across the entire field again. This time the Jiangdong cavalry bore the brunt—they couldn’t avoid or retreat, about to be beaten to death by the hundreds when with a “bang,” Lu Guzhan charged forward with both hands raised, forcibly catching this giant log.

Wu Dingyuan had taken action! Only he with such martial prowess and divine strength could lift thousand-pound giant wood with one hand and wield it freely.

“Hmph!” Wu Dingyuan’s expression was wrathful like the Western Chu Overlord. With an iron palm push, the nanmu wood pressed against the old general’s chest, forcing Lu Guzhan to retreat one step.

Wu Dingyuan against Lu Guzhan—one a true dragon physique, one a Nu Cang elder—who would win and who would lose?

“Roar!” Wu Dingyuan gave a great shout, his energy surging like mountains. With a thunderous boom, purple lightning emerged from his hands, shaking Lu Guzhan back three consecutive steps. Wu Dingyuan showed no mercy, lifting the wood to sweep across at waist level. Another thunderous boom as the giant wood struck Lu Guzhan’s right armpit, making his steps waver and nearly knocking him to his knees.

“Master Lu!” The Jiangdong children soldiers cried out in alarm, one by one rushing forward to embrace the nanmu wood, hoping to aid Lu Guzhan.

The nanmu wood was over ten zhang long. As more and more reinforcements gathered—up to forty men—this group of soldiers had followed Master Lu for years, all skilled in martial arts with hundred-pound strength. For a moment, both sides were like tug-of-war: here Lu Guzhan led forty Jiangdong heroes close behind, there was only Wu Dingyuan alone. The heroes panted and exerted themselves backward, hoping to drag the true dragon into their own formation.

“One—two—” Everyone exerted force in unison. Under united will, Wu Dingyuan’s feet wavered slightly as he was actually dragged over. The forty Jiangdong heroes cheered loudly, and in an instant with one concentrated effort, they shouted again in unison: “One, two…”

“Three!” Wu Dingyuan responded sternly, pushing the giant wood sideways with one arm. The forty Jiangdong children cried out in pain, everyone staggering—those standing close had their tiger’s mouths split with blood flowing freely, those standing far were sent rolling into the western sea of people.

The true dragon’s reputation was well-deserved—Wu Dingyuan used one arm to fight forty masters and easily achieved complete victory. He took a deep breath, held the nanmu wood inverted in his left arm, and with a thunderous shout: “Lu Guzhan!”

The thousand-pound beam wood carried the might of wind and thunder, smashing down from above. Lu Guzhan really didn’t dare receive it directly and quickly dodged to the side. Wu Dingyuan breathed slightly and changed moves mid-air, the giant wood sweeping across at waist level. Lu Guzhan couldn’t avoid or retreat, could only urgently lunge forward, taking advantage of when old force was exhausted and new force not yet born to once again embrace the giant wood.

With a loud “bang,” Lu Guzhan was in such pain his face turned deathly pale. At this moment, all Jiangdong soldiers had been shaken back, leaving only him alone with both hands tightly embracing the giant wood, locked in stalemate with Wu Dingyuan’s single arm.

Lu Guzhan couldn’t retreat. Among the masters present, only he could block Wu Dingyuan. If he retreated one step, the Jiangdong forces would collapse like a landslide, becoming utterly routed. Then where would millions of hungry ghosts go? For the world’s thread of hope, he must use the internal power cultivated through his entire life to suppress the true dragon’s supreme momentum.

“Lu Guzhan!” Wu Dingyuan roared loudly: “With the Sun-Moon Flag before you, why do you not kneel!” He took a deep breath, raised his left arm, and broke open Lu Guzhan’s palms, then held the giant wood inverted to smash down from above. With a loud “bang,” Lu Guzhan’s arms formed a cross to forcibly receive this earth-opening strike. Suddenly his feet lost strength and he had already knelt on the ground.

“Master Lu!” Seeing this, the Jiangdong forces were greatly alarmed and drew bows to shoot arrows, hoping to force Wu Dingyuan back. But the Zhengtong Army raised shields and rushed forward to protect, while Northern Border death warriors drew swords and charged to drive away the enemy.

Bang! Bang! The giant wood struck repeatedly. Wu Dingyuan seemed to have a belly full of anger with nowhere to vent. Though Lu Guzhan’s skill operation had reached its peak, he had no power to parry at all. Under repeated heavy blows, he slowly collapsed and lay motionless, at others’ mercy. Wu Dingyuan showed no mercy, still striking stick by stick fiercely at his back. For a moment, fresh blood splattered and his upper garments were completely torn, revealing a fierce tiger tattoo—exactly like a fierce tiger lying on a barren hill, hiding claws and fangs in endurance.

This scene was no longer masters exchanging moves but punishment by beating at the Meridian Gate. A’Xiu and Hu Zhengtang watched the battle from the city walls, inevitably shocked and frightened—they never imagined that Uncle Wu, usually quiet and kind, also had such an extremely cruel and ferocious demeanor.

Wu Dingyuan already had the intent to kill. With his true dragon physique, even killing these two thousand troops would be like reaching into a bag to take something. But he had no intention of opening great slaughter—he only wanted to find someone to sacrifice to the flag. That would be Lu Guzhan of Jiangdong Sail Shadow. This person was where the enemy’s morale resided. Only by beating him to death alive before all under heaven, blood-sacrificing to the royal standard, could he intimidate millions of hungry ghosts and force them to scatter and flee.

Wu Dingyuan’s divine might was imposing, beating the Nu Cang old general until he submitted on his knees. The three armies’ morale was greatly boosted as they heard Prince Hui loudly command: “Entire army advance! Capture the rebels!” A million troops answered loudly, and in a moment, Zhengtong Army and Loyalist Army forces like a tide counterattacked. Large numbers of hungry ghosts cried and fled, while Jiangdong children, though wanting to advance and block, were like clay bodhisattvas crossing a river—unable to protect themselves.

People were the knife and chopping block, we were fish and meat. The hungry ghosts cried and called, rolling east and crawling west. Lu Guzhan also lay on the ground spitting fresh blood. At the moment when the entire army was about to be completely destroyed, heavy breathing came from the watchtower. A’Xiu quickly turned back and was startled to see that nameless uncle had picked up a sword. Looking at that scabbard, black and dark, A’Xiu couldn’t help being greatly shocked and said in terror: “This… this sword looks very familiar…”

Indeed familiar—A’Xiu’s family also had a sword, also black and dark, bright and shining. Just as she was puzzled, suddenly there was a “swish” as the sound of weapons breaking through air arose loudly. The nameless uncle drew the sword from its sheath with blinding, dazzling light that forced the two children to cover their eyes.

The sword body ignited with blazing white light, bright as sun and moon. The nameless uncle raised his arm and urgently threw the long sword in his hand like a comet crossing the sky, flying from his hand.

The long sword cut through the sky, flying several li straight toward the battlefield. Below the city, the fighting still raged earth-shaking, and no one above or below noticed anything. In the bang-bang shaking sounds, Lu Guzhan was already lying on the ground spitting blood, but Wu Dingyuan showed no intention of stopping. He gathered energy and roared angrily, beard bristling, lifting the giant wood overhead, about to smash down heavily on the skull when he heard unusual air currents behind him—a weapon was attacking.

Wu Dingyuan listened and already knew the incoming object was not a long spear or heavy halberd but a light weapon like a sword or saber. He snorted and without turning his head, reached back with his iron hand to directly grasp the sword hilt, while his left arm still lifted the giant wood to strike down toward Lu Guzhan’s skull.

The long sword carried blinding white light with majestic momentum, approaching within feet of his back. Wu Dingyuan had also grasped the sword hilt and was about to grip it firmly when suddenly the sound of breaking air disappeared into quiet silence, followed by a strong internal force transmitted to his body. Involuntarily, Wu Dingyuan spun around with the sword, and the sword also flew out accordingly to pierce the giant wood.

With a light “swoosh,” the sword edge scattered blazing white light, actually cutting the giant wood into two sections. That sword didn’t lose momentum and flew out all the way to stand diagonally in the ground. Silently, the ground was actually cut with a three-foot-long deep groove.

Sword radiance? Wu Dingyuan was greatly shocked and picked up the long sword with his back hand. This sword in his hand was extremely familiar—it was Lu Yun’s sword: Yunmeng Lake!

At this moment the scene was chaotic as soldiers from both sides fought in a mass. Seeing Wu Dingyuan stunned like a wooden chicken, Lu Guzhan took the opportunity to roll backward. With a “bang,” he fell beside a leather drum. Just as he was about to struggle to get up, court troops had already caught up and were about to capture him. The Jiangdong children soldiers shouted and also urgently rushed to respond. Both sides fought and struggled with Lu Guzhan as the center.

Lu Guzhan lowered his head and vomited blood. Several times he tried to stand straight but had no strength. Looking around, he saw his brothers all trapped in heavy encirclement like trapped beasts fighting, while distant hungry ghosts were also panic-stricken, crying and fleeing. Seeing military defeat like a landslide, Lu Guzhan wept chokingly. He helped up the leather drum from the ground, broke a long spear into two pieces, then reversed his hand to heavily strike down.

Dong! Dong, dong! Dong dong dong!

Dong dong dong dong dong dong! The drum sounds grew more urgent as the Nu Cang elder desperately beat the war drum, seeming to want to boost the entire army’s morale. But court forces were strong and powerful, and it was beyond recovery. Lu Guzhan beat faster and more passionately. Suddenly he threw away the broken spear, knelt on both knees, and looked up to cry loudly: “Old Heaven! Please open Your eyes!” With a “dong,” the drumstick flew from his hand and Lu Guzhan had also collapsed on the ground. Loyalist soldiers were overjoyed and about to pick up easy gains when they were stopped by Zhengtong Army officers.

This was not beating war drums or inspiring morale, but striking drums to appeal to Heaven for justice.

Lu Guzhan had no other support and could only call to Old Heaven for help. His crying was full of sorrowful indignation and injustice, reaching the nine heavens above. If Heaven had feelings, would it grant an answer?

The drum sounds ceased and heaven and earth were strangely quiet. Zhengtong cavalry all pulled their reins to a stop, infantry also stopped their steps. The four chief staff officers surrounded Wu Dingyuan, everyone’s expressions grave, all gazing toward the western earth.

Looking out, a large area below the city had been cleared as hungry ghosts fled far away and Jiangdong forces were also retreating backward. Only Lu Guzhan remained in heaven and earth. Loyalist soldiers looked at each other, not yet deciding whether to capture him, when suddenly everyone heard faint drum sounds.

Dong, dong dong, dong dong dong. The drum sounds were low and muffled, as if coming from the dark underworld depths, indistinct and gradual but approaching. Suddenly the drum sounds rose high and became increasingly anxious and loud.

Boom dong long dong! Boom dong long dong! Heaven responded! As if heavenly gods struck thunder drums, startling heaven and earth with shaking sounds. Sudden changes arose ahead as Princes Lin, Hui, De, and Qing hurriedly rushed out to stand together under the Sun-Moon Flag. Suddenly Prince Lin screamed: “Look there!”

At the extreme distance of heaven and earth, gusts of wind and sand arose, looking like large dark clouds rushing straight toward the capital. Yan Feng took a deep breath and immediately prostrated flat, pressing his ear to the ground with scout skills. After listening for a while, he said a few words to Gao Jiong. Gao Jiong nodded slightly, turned and jumped onto a catapult to look far into the distance. Prince De said tremblingly: “What’s going on? Someone please say something!”

War drums were heart-stirring and deafening. The Zhengtong Army, battle-tested, remained calm though startled. The Loyalist Army showed fearful expressions and stepped backward step by step. Gao Jiong jumped down from the catapult and shouted: “Four Fires, sound the gong to withdraw troops!” Cen Yan quickly rushed forward: “That thing again?” Seeing Gao Jiong nod, Gong Zhi immediately gathered energy to command: “Come! Bring out the Commander’s mount to prepare for the enemy.”

Clang, clang, clang! Clang, clang, clang! The Zhengtong Army sounded gongs to withdraw as all officers and soldiers faced great enemies, immediately forming ranks and retreating in strict order toward their main formation. But the Loyalist Army, encountering Nu Cang main forces for the first time, everyone was terrified and fled backward.

Western thunder rumbled as black clouds in the sky came with extreme speed, rushing higher and flying thicker, carrying fierce wind and sand as if a storm was about to strike. Prince Hui grabbed Gong Zhi and said quietly: “Advisor Gong, what’s really happening? Have Nu Cang forces arrived?”

Gong Zhi had an arrow wound but no leisure to bandage it. He just broke off the arrow shaft with his hand and took out a telescope: “Your Highness, see for yourself.”

Thunder shook the sky and smoke and dust filled everything—nothing could be seen clearly. Prince Hui had never seen such a scene. He trembled slightly and looked through the telescope, startled to see hungry ghosts running to both sides, everyone stamping the ground with their feet as smoke and dust rose accordingly. It turned out that millions of people were trampling continuously, creating this thunder-like low rumbling.

Just as he was watching, suddenly the thunder stopped and heaven and earth were silent. In the complete quiet, everyone’s hearts seemed to stop too. Suddenly Prince Lin shouted: “Look! Everyone look!” The dust clouds gradually settled, revealing the scene before them. Looking out, the hungry ghosts no longer stamped the ground or ran—they one by one respectfully lowered their hands, facing west. That vast sea of people had already divided into two halves, with a straight road cleared right down the middle, leading directly toward Beijing city.

The enemy showed magnificent momentum—surely a large force of troops had arrived. All generals held their breath and gazed at the far end of heaven and earth, everyone’s breathing quickening slightly.

Eastern sunlight reflected as the western earth gleamed golden, but the road ahead was empty and deserted, making it even more eerie. Suddenly clear horse hoofbeats rang out as something seemed to come from the road’s end. Looking indistinctly, they saw it was red, like fresh blood, looking like a character that read:

“NU!”

As the entire army stirred, a single rider had already appeared at the road’s end—black banner, black horse, red helmet, fire armor, holding high a military flag. That banner’s form was ancient—Nu Cang’s main stronghold’s “Nu” character flag!

The red flag danced in the sky, looking like a ball of angry fire. In the yellow dust sea, the enemy’s lone single rider was like a heavenly general descending. Wherever he passed, row after row of hungry ghosts all bowed down, as if he were a generous martyr shouldering the fate of millions of people.

A’Xiu gazed at the city below and couldn’t help rubbing her eyes, saying quietly: “This… this person is Qin…” Before the words were out, Hu Zhengtang had already covered her mouth, saying tremblingly: “Brother Xiu, you can’t mention this name—he’ll come looking for you.” A’Xiu was vaguely afraid but still stubborn, sneering coldly: “Who’s afraid of who? Qin Zhonghai, Qin Zhonghai, come find me!”

“Wu—wu wu!” The horn sounded deafeningly, forcing A’Xiu to cover her ears and scream: “Oh my!”

The Rage King held the horn and blew toward heaven—that sound was like Old Heaven’s anger, frightening everyone’s faces to change color. Seeing the supreme commander about to reach the front lines, Lu Guzhan silently rose and turned to welcome him. The capital’s direction was also silent as ravens and sparrows. A’Xiu and Hu Zhengtang atop the city walls were moved in heart and spirit, no longer daring to make trouble. Though there were a million troops below the city, no one dared make a sound or curse. Because everyone knew one thing:

Qin Zhonghai had returned.