Chapter 140: Meeting Wang Man and Reaching the Frontier

Long Heng, Xiaha, and Duolen, following Jiang Pingchuan’s orders, divided their sixty thousand troops into two groups: Jiang Pingchuan led twenty thousand soldiers along the upper route, while the three escorted forty thousand troops carrying provisions down the lower path.

Jiang Pingchuan himself took charge of the twenty thousand troops because he was engaged in a psychological battle with the Barbarian King. Knowing the king’s suspicious nature, he was certain the king would believe that Jiang arrogantly led twenty thousand soldiers on the upper route, daring to escort the provisions openly.

Because of the king’s inherent suspicion, Jiang Pingchuan reasoned that if the Barbarian King learned that Long Heng and the others were leading forty thousand troops along the lower route, he would assume there were no supplies with Long Heng and that Jiang was deliberately baiting him to intercept Long Heng’s forces. This would allow Jiang to transport the provisions openly and safely along the upper route to the border.

Jiang Pingchuan led his twenty thousand soldiers steadily toward the border, his mind racing over the current situation. Feng Tong, son of the Marquis Yunshui, had been slain by Duolen, confirming that the Marquis Yunshui was undoubtedly plotting rebellion.

Under the rule of the Lan Dynasty on the Changfeng Continent, seven great marquises held sway. With Marquis Yunshui’s defection secured, both Marquis Wu and his son Zhao Wenjie had also sided with the Barbarian King.

Currently, three of the seven marquises were involved in the conflict. Among them, Marquis Wu and Marquis Yunshui had betrayed the Lan Dynasty. Marquis Qingyuan, Jun Moyan, remained loyal, stationed in Yin-Yang City, ready to face the approaching northwest army.

The Marquis Jingnan had dispatched Su Qianyun to Yin-Yang City, marking his participation in the war. With two marquises having defected, Jiang Pingchuan knew that if he failed to repel the Barbarian King’s forces quickly at the frontier, the outcome could sway the power balance back in the capital.

Ba Xia remained in the capital, yet if Jiang were defeated at the border, Ba Xia might act against him—or even directly against Lan Xiu.

Holding his Shura spear, Jiang Pingchuan gazed at the darkening sky. Torches flickered as soldiers marched tirelessly day and night without rest.

Meanwhile, Long Heng accelerated his march, determined to deliver the provisions before any mishaps occurred, praying the Barbarian King would play into their stratagem.

If Jiang’s assumption was wrong, the forty thousand soldiers escorting the supplies along the lower route could fall victim to an ambush by the Barbarian King’s massive forces, and even the three commanders might not guarantee the safety of their provisions.

“Beggars,” said Lord Gong, bored and restless atop his horse, looking at Jiang Pingchuan. “We’ve been marching for half a month and are nearing the border. Why haven’t the Barbarian King’s soldiers come to intercept our supplies? Could it be the Barbarian King saw through our plan and went straight to the lower route?”

Having split their forces for nearly half a month, plus the initial time from the capital, their upper route had faced no resistance. This perplexed Lord Gong.

“Isn’t it perfect that the Barbarian King doesn’t come? Are you really hoping he will?” Jiang Pingchuan smiled at Lord Gong, who shot him a glare. Gong’s greatest fear was the Barbarian King intercepting their supplies.

“But what if the Barbarian King discovered our scheme and took his troops to the lower route?” Gong fretted. The king’s suspicious nature made his intentions unreadable. If he did not act as Jiang expected, they might starve upon reaching the border.

“If the Barbarian King goes to the lower route, then he wouldn’t be the Barbarian King,” Jiang Pingchuan chuckled, his confidence unshaken.

Lord Gong was puzzled by Jiang’s certainty, unable to fathom why he so firmly believed the Barbarian King would intercept on the upper route.

Turning away from Gong’s gaze, Jiang’s thoughts drifted to his daughter, Gong Luoying, wondering if Yin-Yang City had faced a second wave of the northwest soldiers.

Now, the frightening reality was that the seven great marquises wielded military power comparable to Lan Xiu himself. With Marquis Wu and Marquis Yunshui defected, Yin-Yang City might have already clashed with those marquises’ forces before facing the northwest invaders.

What comforted Lord Gong slightly was that Jun Moyan was commanding Yin-Yang City. With his soldiers swiftly mobilizing from their garrison, as long as Jun Moyan held the city, no one but Jiang Pingchuan could breach Yin-Yang Fortress.

Besides Jiang, Lord Gong respected only two men on the continent most profoundly: the War King and Jun Moyan.

Suddenly, a fierce clash erupted ahead on the road. Jiang Pingchuan and Lord Gong exchanged a glance and hastened their pace toward the sounds.

Approaching the scene, Jiang Pingchuan raised his hand, signaling his soldiers to halt. Nearby, a burly young man fought fiercely against a group of soldiers.

The youth had thick eyebrows, bold eyes, and bore a purple-blue tiger head tattoo on his shoulder. His valor was evident, each punch felling an enemy soldier.

Jiang Pingchuan stopped his troops upon noticing the enemy flag bearer carried a banner emblazoned with the character for “Barbarian.” With a mere twitch of his toes, Jiang knew these foes were the Barbarian King’s men.

“That youth is no ordinary fighter,” Lord Gong remarked admiringly. The young man’s movements were fluid as flowing water—each step steady, every strike precise, targeting the enemy’s most vulnerable spots for instant death, much like Jiang Pingchuan himself.

“Dual cultivation of body and energy,” Jiang Pingchuan observed with surprise. This young cultivator seemed to have embarked on the path before him, balancing physical strength with internal energy. Though his true energy appeared suppressed by his physique, he was nearing mastery.

“What is that youth doing?” Lord Gong dismounted, watching the young man continue to battle the soldiers, oddly without a leader among them.

Jiang Pingchuan glanced at the youth and said with a smile, “Clearing obstacles.”

With a wave to his twenty thousand troops, thunderous neighs filled the air as cavalry charged. The young man froze, stunned by the sudden surge of black-armored horsemen.

The twenty thousand soldiers bypassed the youth and struck at the Barbarian King’s soldiers behind him.

Thousands of enemy soldiers scrambled to retreat but found no escape. Lord Gong leapt swiftly to the enemy’s rear, cutting off all avenues of flight.

None were taken prisoner; all perished on the spot. Tragically, it was not Jiang’s soldiers who dealt the final blows, but the enemy soldiers themselves, who turned their weapons on comrades in desperate suicide rather than capture.

All five thousand of the Barbarian King’s troops sent to ambush lay dead there.

The youth stared blankly at Jiang Pingchuan atop his horse. The two locked eyes, and Jiang smiled warmly—a genuine, hearty grin.

He stepped aside, picked up a bundle of dry wood from the roadside, and slung it across his shoulder. Seeing the young man turn to leave, Jiang quickly dismounted, calling after him, “Please wait.”

Jiang Pingchuan placed his Shura spear in Lord Gong’s hands and watched the youth’s retreating figure, struck by a sudden desire to keep such talent close.

“General Pingchuan, is there a command?” the youth turned and said with a chuckle.

Jiang was momentarily stunned. The youth already knew who he was. Noticing the change in Jiang’s expression, the youth hastily laid down his wood and saluted.

“I am Wang Man,” he said humbly. “Born with the power of the Right Fist, I’ve long heard of General Pingchuan’s journey to the border. Today, returning from chopping wood, I sensed danger and observed an ambush. I’ve slain their leader, but they refuse to yield and sought to kill me.”

Wang Man’s dark skin and muscular build made him appear even stronger and more spirited. Jiang was further impressed by his words.

The fact that Wang Man had slain the leader of the Barbarian King’s soldiers was no small feat, especially since their collective suicide tactics were not common among ordinary troops.

“Ha! Your Right Fist holds tremendous power?” Jiang asked, eyeing the black bracelet on Wang Man’s right hand.

Wang Man noticed Jiang’s skeptical gaze and grew slightly annoyed. He removed the injured bracelet, clenched his fist tightly, and struck the ground fiercely.

A powerful gust radiated outward several meters around his fist. The ground beneath his punch showed no depression but was covered in dozens of cracks spreading outward like a spider’s web.

Jiang Pingchuan stood straighter and smiled knowingly at the bracelet.

“Would you be willing to join me in the campaign, to defend the borderlands not far ahead?” Jiang asked solemnly.

Wang Man met his gaze, noticing the intense killing intent within—not directed at himself, but a fierce wildness born of Jiang’s turbulent spirit.

“I’ve long wished to go to the border; it’s just that I never had the chance,” Wang Man said gratefully.

Jiang patted his shoulder, mounted his horse, and Wang Man cheerfully drew his great machete from the woodpile. He found a warhorse left behind by the Barbarian King’s men and followed Jiang toward the border.

Time passed swiftly. One month later, Jiang Pingchuan arrived twenty miles from the border. As they neared, Lord Gong’s previously calm heart suddenly tightened with unease.

He noticed the ground bore few hoofprints, meaning Long Heng and the others had yet to bring the provisions this far.

Jiang Pingchuan also observed this and glanced at Wang Man’s expression. Seeing no change, Jiang felt relieved—Long Heng’s group would arrive safely at the border.

PS: You are welcome to join the book club discussion. Wuyai eagerly awaits your arrival.