Thud!
Tabah Hongxue let out a hoarse, desperate cry, then slammed his forehead heavily against the ground. He lay there motionless.
Whether it was because he no longer had the strength to remain kneeling, or because he was kowtowing and begging “Huo Ci” for mercy—no one could tell.
Back at the Western Zhou banquet, when he discovered that Huo Ci was an imposter, his only thought was to rush back to Beiluo as quickly as possible, rally the troops, and launch a surprise attack on Western Zhou.
But then, Zhebu sacrificed himself, using the teleportation talisman given by that mysterious Linglong who had fallen from the sky, to send him back to Beiluo. Only then did he realize that nothing was as it had been before.
The king had placed his complete trust in Linglong, handing over all authority regarding the war with Western Zhou to him.
When Linglong saw Tabah Hongxue return, he was furious.
“That damned Zhebu! He actually double-crossed me, the national preceptor.
I explicitly told him to bring only himself and Mengsier back. I never expected he’d remain so loyal to you, General Tabah.
Well then. Since you insist on disrupting my grand plans, you’d better stay put in the dungeon!”
Tabah Hongxue fought back with all his might. “My ancestors have been the fiercest warriors of Beiluo for generations! By what right do you lock me up? What crime have I committed?
I demand to see the king!”
Linglong let out a contemptuous snort. “Enough with the howling.
Since you’re so eager to die, I might as well let you die with your eyes open.”
He had his men drag Tabah Hongxue to see the King of Beiluo.
Before Tabah Hongxue could even open his mouth, the king exclaimed in shock, “What is he doing here?
Didn’t the National Preceptor say he was supposed to be left in Western Zhou to die?”
Just those few words were enough to extinguish Tabah Hongxue’s lifelong devotion and loyalty to his king.
So—his majesty knew everything all along.
He had always believed it was Linglong stirring up trouble, deceiving the throne, and suppressing loyal ministers.
But now he understood: from start to finish, the king had been fully aware of his own actions.
The king had become completely dependent on the devastating weapons Linglong had brought—those instruments of destruction that could obliterate heaven and earth.
All he wanted was a quick and easy victory; he gave no thought to anything else.
But Linglong’s intentions were clearly not for the good of Beiluo.
He had coaxed Beiluo into allying with Great Xia to devour Western Zhou—but after that, where would Beiluo go? Had the king ever considered that?
Tabah Hongxue swallowed the surging anguish in his heart and gritted his teeth, determined to warn the King of Beiluo one last time.
“Your Majesty, when the lips are gone, the teeth grow cold. If we join hands with Great Xia, then once Western Zhou falls, the next to perish will be our own Beiluo!”
To his surprise, the king slammed his hand on the table and glared at Tabah Hongxue. “How dare you!
Tabah Hongxue, back in the day, when you fought against Huo Ci and came back in defeat—when he chased you all the way to our capital—who was it that sued for peace?
And now, barely a few years have passed, and you’ve already forgotten everything?”
At the mention of that humiliation, Tabah Hongxue flushed with shame and lowered his head.
“If it weren’t for all the brilliant ideas proposed by the National Preceptor, do you really think you could have held Western Zhou at bay much longer?
Now that we have the Red-Clad Cannons, even if Great Xia comes knocking, there’s no need to fear them! You’re worrying over nothing!”
“But Your Majesty, those weapons are far too brutal—they will harm us as well!
Countless common people will be slaughtered by such overwhelming artillery fire—has Your Majesty ever considered that?”
“Absurd!
Common people? They’re nothing but oxen and mules, mindless brutes!
As long as I can unify the entire North Reed Continent, why would I ever worry about having subjects submit to me?!”
Tabah Hongxue was utterly stunned.
He had an instinctive, sinking feeling that the legacy built by generations of Beiluo kings—uniting all the nomadic tribes to forge this nation—was about to crumble into ruin.
“Guards!
Drag Tabah Hongxue out of my sight! I never want to see his face again!”
Dazedly, Tabah Hongxue watched Linglong’s smirking, mocking expression as he was seized by guards on both sides and thrown into the dungeon.
In that lightless prison, he tried to take his own life—but Linglong appeared out of nowhere, grabbed him, and chained him to a rack.
When he attempted to starve himself, Linglong pried his mouth open and force-fed him.
Time and again, Linglong tormented him—but he refused to let him die.
“Tabah Hongxue, you were the very first person I met when I came to this world.”
His delicate fingers traced Tabah Hongxue’s bloodied face.
“You sat on your horse, clad in white armor and a white helmet, astride a white steed—so full of vigor and pride.”
Tabah Hongxue twisted his head away, trying to escape his touch.
Smack!
Linglong raised his hand and delivered a stinging slap across his face.
“And yet, when I finally stood on equal footing with you, you wouldn’t even spare me a single glance.
Your heart and eyes were filled with nothing but Huo Ci.
Hmph. I am a man too—in what way am I inferior to him?!”
Tabah Hongxue ground his teeth and spat out two words: “Disgusting!”
Smack! Smack!
Linglong struck him twice more, forehand and backhand, then said coldly, “I’m going to keep you alive.
I want you to see what a depraved, cowardly wretch the King of Beiluo really is.
And I want you to watch as I torment your precious Huo Ci to death.
When that day comes, will you finally beg me for mercy?”
He strode away laughing, and Tabah Hongxue felt as though the very sky had collapsed around him.
He had never felt anything for Huo Ci but the grudging admiration and enmity of a worthy rival—never anything as sordid as infatuation!
This Linglong was no ordinary man; he was utterly unhinged. No one could tell what his true purpose was.
“Huo Ci, you must beware of Linglong. He seems to want nothing more than to throw this world into chaos—he has no concept of good or evil!
I’ve said all I can. Do what you must!”
Jiang Xingyan gazed at Tabah Hongxue with a puzzled expression.
He seemed to have suffered tremendous humiliation.
“What exactly did Linglong do to you?”
“Kill me!”
Tabah Hongxue’s emotions ran too high; his frail body couldn’t bear it, and he promptly passed out.
Jiang Xingyan was speechless.
Counting him, that made four invalids here already.
She could only wave her hand, signaling the shadow guards and the soldiers of the Huo Family Army to carry the four of them back to camp.
She then followed two scouts up onto the walls of Beiluo’s capital city.
Above the city gate hung the King of Beiluo, who never stopped begging for mercy. Below stood the soldiers of the Huo Family Army, along with the Beiluo civilians captured along the way.
A vast, dense crowd of people—yet not a single one made a sound. The only thing echoing across the fields was the king’s ceaseless pleas.
“General Huo, it was all Tabah Hongxue and Linglong’s doing—it had nothing to do with me!”
“What about that idea I mentioned earlier, about becoming a minor court eunuch? Have you considered it?”
“How about hanging me up here for just one day and one night, and then letting me go?”
“I swear I’ll never oppose Western Zhou again! I’ll just live as an ordinary commoner, wuu wuu wuu…”
Jiang Xingyan looked down in silence at the tear-streaked faces of the Beiluo people below.
When you’ve regarded someone as your lifelong faith, only to suddenly discover that he isn’t even worthy of being called a person—let alone a king—anyone would be shattered.
She gave them ample time to process their emotions.
The Huo Family Army below showed no sign of smug triumph. Instead, they hung their heads, recalling the comrades and brothers they had lost during this campaign.
For the sake of such a worthless man—just how many people had died?
In war, there are no winners.
“General Huo, we have sinned!”
“Please, General Huo, take us in!”
Among the Beiluo civilians, someone took the lead and surrendered. One by one, all of them knelt, willing to cast aside their former obsessions and become subjects of Western Zhou.
“Very well, then. The King of Beiluo, as a prisoner of war, shall be fitted with a forty-pound cangue, locked in a prison cart, and escorted back to Western Zhou.”
“Yes, sir!”
Soldiers on both sides hauled the king up and dragged him away.
The King of Beiluo trembled in sheer terror, losing control of his bowels and bladder as his howls and pleas for mercy grew even more pitiful and unbearable.
The Beiluo people wept even louder.
“I, Huo Ci, do hereby declare on this day: Beiluo is no more!”
