Chapter 78: Yan Dan, the Scapegoat

“It’s true! The Khan, it’s truly him!” The Chief Commander spoke excitedly, almost as if he was overwhelmed with joy.

Heh! It’s over; all is lost. Touman felt oddly calm now, believing this carriage to be that legendary omen.

Snow flies across the desert, gods and demons descend from the sky, one carriage, two tigers, ten thousand tribes devoured.

There had been too many myths about the carriage over the past year. Touman no longer wished to speak of it.

“Khan Touman, what should we do?” A middle-aged tribal leader gazed at Touman with eager intensity.

He even called Touman by name. Touman understood—he had lost. Even the eyes of his own guards had changed as they looked at him.

Enemies before and behind, the Zhao army silent, and less than thirty thousand men remained. What options were left? Fight, or throw themselves into the river.

“What about the High Priest?”

The commanders shook their heads, puzzled; it seemed the High Priest hadn’t been seen for quite some time.

“Haha! High Priest! Didn’t you say the Xiongnu would dominate the desert and shock the world, blessed by the Eternal Heaven? What now?”

“Warriors, tell your Khan—what will become of the thousand-year Xiongnu?”

Touman drew his sword, proving his resolve with action. They could surrender, but Touman could not. The proud soul of the Xiongnu must not fall.

Ah! The middle-aged tribal leader smiled bitterly and lowered his head. His warhorse slowly retreated, marking his decision.

Soon, many Xiongnu chose to draw back, but some remained, and others stepped forward from the rear.

From afar, dust rose again, as if the earth itself trembled with excitement.

The Iron Cavalry of Liaodong were coming, and even the Eastern Desert cavalry began to move.

“Haha, good! Warriors, follow your Khan and fight!”

“Kill, kill—”

A mournful cry—“Kill—”

Four thousand four hundred of the bravest warriors shouted in jubilation, as if pouring out all their fervor in one lifetime.

“Sound the horns! Send the Khan on his way!”

The middle-aged leader, Yuluo, eyes flickering with a thousand emotions.

Wailing horns sang—a funeral march, the highest respect for heaven, earth, and life.

Warhorses galloped with wild passion. Warriors loved their steeds, and the steeds understood their riders’ resolve.

“There can be only one king in the desert—if you live, I must die! Kill—”

Thunder rumbled.

“Kill, kill—”

The fearless warriors inspired even the retreating Xiongnu soldiers to want to join.

“Kill him—kill him—” The cry of all cavalrymen.

Twenty meters remained. Touman, brave as ever, leapt from his horse.

Heaven and Earth Cleave—a strike embodying all Touman’s rage and hatred.

Touman was a natural-born master, otherwise he wouldn’t lead the charge.

His hand seemed to glow, heat radiating until the air itself recoiled.

“Where are the fierce warriors, to come and die?” Shaking his head with a smile, Lin Shu returned to the carriage.

“Kill them all.”

[As you command]

Roaring—Dragon Horses bellowed in fury, drowning the thunder of galloping steeds.

Boom—boom—waves of air crashed forth, shattering Touman and his flaming sword. Clean air now carried streaks of red.

“Ah—not—not—”

In mere breaths, red spheres of blood appeared again, and even the bravest warriors were seized with fear.

“No! Blood Spheres! It’s all true!” Chief Yuluo dismounted in despair, kneeling on the ground.

Perhaps he was mourning Touman.

It was over! The Xiongnu were truly finished.

Many Xiongnu cavalry knelt as well, powerless, praying for the blood spheres to stop.

“I surrender—I surrender—” Warriors leapt from their horses to kneel, but the red was upon them, unstoppable.

Boom—boom—blood-colored air surged and exploded, hundred-meter-wide spheres stormed the fleeing cavalry.

Horses wailed in despair, unable to escape the pull that tore flesh from bone. Time seemed to both race and freeze. Four thousand four hundred cavalrymen, men and horses alike, vanished swiftly, as if they’d been mere illusions. Even their lingering thoughts disappeared entirely.

The blood spheres faded, and the pristine carriage quietly turned and left, but the kneeling Xiongnu dared not rise or run.

Not only the Xiongnu, but even the Black Tiger mechs of the Eastern Desert army halted, silently watching the carriage depart.

“All right, gather the Xiongnu.” Sighing, Siter felt little joy. Though they had won, it was not the Eastern Desert army’s doing.

Back at the military city, Lin Shu learned some news—not good, but not bad either.

“Let them go, then. We’ll set out again in a few days.”

The Zhao army had already fled, and Lin Shu had no intention of pursuing. His goal was not to annihilate the Zhao, and besides, the Iron Cavalry of Liaodong needed to recuperate.

...

The Zhao-Xiongnu allied army, three hundred thousand strong, swept across the steppe, stirring dust that startled half the grasslands.

But now—

“Why did Marshal Pang retreat? Why withdraw the troops?” Yan Dan cried out in fury.

He had been inexplicably imprisoned, locked in a cage on a war wagon the entire journey—a grave insult to the Kingdom of Yan.

The Zhao army fled in haste, abandoning all northern towns and camps. Only upon returning to the Great Wall did Pang Nuan find time to interrogate Yan Dan.

“Haha! Why retreat? You, Yan Dan, dare even ask!” Li Tong cursed angrily. Whether or not Yan was at fault, it must be so, or his own future would be bleak.

Li Tong—you—

Yan Dan’s face was bitter with confusion. He had no knowledge of Zhao’s troop movements, but judging by the situation, it seemed as if he had betrayed Zhao.

Ah! Pang Nuan wasn’t sure if Yan had wronged them, but the leak had undoubtedly come from Yan.

Regardless, Li Tong was right—Yan must be blamed.

“Ha! Yan Dan, your mission is accomplished. Not only have the Xiongnu’s hundred thousand troops been wiped out, but Zhao suffered heavy losses too!”

“What mission?” Yan Dan’s face burned with anger and bewilderment.

“Marshal Pang, what do you mean? How did the Xiongnu fall?”

With the Xiongnu defeated, the alliance had failed.

Thinking of the Northern Army’s retaliation, Yan Dan felt even more bitter.

Ah! Pang Nuan could not bring himself to spout nonsense.

“Yan Dan, perhaps you do not know, but the defeat of the allied army lies in Yan.”

Yan Dan shook his head vigorously. “Marshal Pang, do not judge too quickly! Yan’s twenty divisions fought bloody battles to reclaim Liao territory in the north—how could that have led to the alliance’s defeat?”

Yan Dan understood: Zhao’s defeat was not minor, but catastrophic, or else they wouldn’t have fled so desperately.

“Ha—twenty divisions? I fear Yan never moved a single soldier, or else how could the Iron Cavalry of Liaodong and the Northern King have ambushed our allied army?”

Li Tong sneered—the arrival of the Northern King and the Iron Cavalry was proof of Yan’s guilt.

“What! He—he’s here!” Yan Dan shuddered at the thought of that man, both hating and fearing him—a true powerhouse, not only in martial skill, but his entire army was invincible.

“Take him away, bring him to Handan for the King’s judgment!” Yan Dan was speechless, and Pang Nuan had no patience for him.

A good opportunity, Li Tong frowned. “Marshal Pang, I will report to the King at once. The Northern Kingdom is beyond Zhao’s power to resist.”

“Inspector, do as you wish. Inform the King to send envoys to the Northern Kingdom as soon as possible!”

Pang Nuan made no effort to keep this useless troublemaker—as soon as the Northern King subdued the Xiongnu tribes, he would attack Zhao.

Times grew ever more difficult.

...

Yan Kingdom, Ji City.

The royal capital of Yan remained bustling, but heavy troops guarded the gates within and without.

Signal fires at Liao Sea Pass burned day and night, marking its most perilous state.

Seven divisions remained at Liao Sea Pass, but most were conscripted civilians, no match for the wolf-like Northern Army.

When his brother returned in distress, the Yan King felt neither surprise nor joy.

“Brother King, perhaps this is the last time I pay my respects.”

Lord Yan Chun’s expression was calm. He raised his hand, closed his eyes, and bowed low—the first time he’d ever done so.

“Brother—!”

“Report the battle first.”

The ministers and Yan King alike hoped the endless northern signal fires were merely a false alarm.

Raising his hand again, Lord Yan Chun spoke softly: “General Lejian divided the army into two, the vanguard of one hundred thousand surrounded the Liaoxi forces. But unexpectedly, the Northern King personally led troops to encircle and strike our hundred thousand soldiers.”

“The Mohist School, famed for the best mechanisms in the land, was routed by the Northern Army’s mechanical troops and fled in haste.”

“Then the Northern Army’s mechanical beasts, towering as buildings, led countless iron cavalry in a massive assault. Our Yan soldiers, attacked from several sides and outnumbered, collapsed completely. Few will return to the pass.”

He understood; the Yan King understood everything. Lejian, that fool, had split the forces carelessly, and Yan had been betrayed by the Mohists.

Defeat was inevitable. The grand hall fell silent.

But Lord Yan Chun could not remain silent.

“Brother King, I was intercepted by the Northern King. I pleaded for my life, only to report to you again. Tomorrow I shall go before the Northern King to seek punishment, hoping to appease his wrath.”

“Once more, I beg you to hear me.”

So this was how it was.

The Yan King felt a surge of guilt.