Tome of Troubled Times-Chapter 686: The Establishment of a New Dynasty

The disgruntled imperial troops, who had been grumbling about being sent south to fight in Langya during a snowstorm, found their spirits remarkably lifted when they arrived at the Cui Clan’s territory. For two days, they were treated to warm hospitality and plenty of good food and drink before being discreetly redirected westward.

As long as it was not a suicidal siege in the dead of winter, the soldiers had no complaints. They were well-trained and had fought in winter before. Besides, this was not a desperate slugfest, it was an ambush, and that made it even more palatable.

The mutinous scenario imagined by Lu Jianzhang and his ilk never took place.

By the time Huangfu Shaozong and his forces reached their ambush point, they had been there for less than half a day. Most of the troops were still resting when Yeletu’s vanguard cavalry appeared on the mountain path below.

Huangfu Shaozong held up a hand, signaling his men to stay quiet. “They’re not our target. Let them pass. Get some more rest while you can.”

The soldiers exchanged strange glances as they watched Yeletu’s cavalry race by, but they held their positions, conserving their strength.

Yeletu’s nighttime raid on the capital was not meant to take control of it; they were nothing more than a single cavalry unit, after all. The main force, composed of the Li Clan’s troops, was following behind. The vanguard had pushed ahead because the main force’s slower pace would make stealth impossible.

This haste was, in part, due to Zhao Changhe’s infamous arrow. That shot, which had shattered the illusion of the Yellow River as an unbreachable barrier, had set off a cascade of events.

A slow march by the main force would have alerted the capital to their presence, giving the city ample time to prepare. Even a hastily conscripted militia could defend the capital for some time in snowy conditions, especially under the watchful eyes of Vermillion Bird and Tang Wanzhuang. In such a scenario, infiltrators hoping to open the gates might not even get the chance.

Meanwhile, Zhao Changhe’s arrow had signaled that Langya’s defenses were crumbling under the Cui Clan’s and the Cao Gang’s assault. That arrow alone rendered Huangfu Shaozong’s southern reinforcements redundant. If the capital became embroiled in a siege, Huangfu Shaozong would inevitably be forced to return to relieve it, potentially unraveling the entire plan.

This urgency led Yeletu to take the risk of a lightning raid, relying on Lu Jianzhang’s private forces and the hidden demon god to create chaos and seize the capital before an effective defense could be mounted. Even in the worst-case scenario, the raid could spark disarray and street battles, preventing the organization of a coherent defense.

Once the Li Clan’s main force arrived, the capital would be theirs, and Huangfu Shaozong’s army would not have time to return.

It was a gamble—a risky one—but with high risks came high rewards. Like the legendary Ziwu Campaign or Deng Ai’s daring descent through Yinping, it was a matter of bold decisions and timing.

By the time Yeletu’s cavalry had long vanished into the distance, the sun had risen. Zhao Changhe had already finished his battle with Hidden Wind at sea, and the report had spread across the land. Huangfu Shaozong’s troops, now well-rested and fed, were treated to the sight of the Li Clan’s army trudging into view after a night-long march.

The exhausted troops seemed intent on finding a spot to cook their next meal.

Huangfu Shaozong grinned, his white teeth gleaming. “They’re still looking for rocks to build stoves in this snow. How touching. Let’s throw them some stones to help out. Archers, ready? Let them have it!”

Rumble!

A torrent of boulders and arrows rained down on the enemy.

This was no battle; it was a massacre.

As Huangfu Shaozong raised his spear and led the charge down the mountain, he briefly entertained the thought of pushing all the way into Guanzhong. But he quickly dismissed the idea, knowing it was too ambitious.

The fledgling dynasty was far too fragile to sustain a multi-front war.

This battle, simple as it seemed, had only succeeded because of impeccable timing and the enemy’s fateful missteps. It was as though they had come here just to hand Huangfu Shaozong the victory.

The Demon Suppression Bureau’s intelligence network under Tang Wanzhuang was the foundation of their success. Every move the enemy made was like a hand of cards reflected in a mirror, laid bare for them to see. But what truly amazed Huangfu Shaozong was how every step Zhao Changhe took seemed to align with this outcome, leveraging the Tome of Troubled Times to influence decisions and manipulate perceptions.

It was as if everyone was playing cards, while Zhao Changhe was playing several games of go at the same time.

“This guy’s a bit younger than me, yet he ended up with my older sister...” Huangfu Shaozong mused, shaking his head. “I thought my sister just wanted a strong, fresh-faced little pup. Who would’ve expected her to pick a true god? It’s a bit surreal. When they got together, he was still only at the Profound Gate. Just how did she see this coming?”

* * *

“Let’s head back,” Cui Wenjing said as he strolled along the Yellow River with Yang Jingxiu. “This battle isn’t one you can win.”

Yang Jingxiu walked alongside him in silence for a long while before finally speaking up. “Are you certain? With the Cui Clan attacking the Wang Clan, the barbarian cavalry pressing south, the Li Clan advancing east, and my Yang Clan moving north... The entire world is in rebellion, surrounding this fragile new dynasty. Gods and demons have returned to the fray. And yet, you’re telling me that we’re the ones who can’t fight this battle?”

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Cui Wenjing looked up thoughtfully, his expression faintly peculiar.

Why had he hesitated earlier, even preparing for a possible war with the capital?

Based on pure logic, this new dynasty appeared utterly surrounded and teetering on collapse. The legacy left behind by Xia Longyuan was a fractured empire, with no region willing to heed the central authority. Even the capital’s court was rife with dissent. It was truly a case of the entire world being against them.

Not even Xia Longyuan, at his peak, could have repaired this fractured empire without re-conquering it piece by piece. And that was a task no amount of individual martial prowess could accomplish alone.

But when Xia Longyuan was replaced by Zhao Changhe, the dynamic inexplicably shifted. It was as though a stalemate had been entirely broken, the deadlock suddenly infused with vitality.

It was not just the Cao Gang, Jiangnan, or the Cui Clan—now even the Yang Clan seemed less resolute, becoming open to negotiation.

And after Zhao Changhe’s victories over Desolate Calamity and Hidden Wind were broadcast through the Tome of Troubled Times, it was evident that Yang Jingxiu was wavering.

It was not just Zhao Changhe’s strength but the sense of a shifting tide that struck Yang Jingxiu. The fall of two ancient gods in succession made it seem inevitable that Langya would fall as well.

And if Langya could not hold, what was the point of maintaining the standoff with Cui Wenjing?

Should the barbarians and the Li Clan’s forces be repelled, the once-weakened dynasty—reduced to holding only the capital—would suddenly find itself ruling half the empire once more. From there, it would merely be a matter of consolidating and picking off opposition one by one.

“This is a battle for legitimacy,” Cui Wenjing said slowly. “The establishment of a new dynasty isn’t complete with a simple proclamation from the dragon throne. It requires the tempering of blood and fire. If they endure, they will secure the empire; if they falter, they’ll be remembered as yet another fleeting regime, of which history has no shortage.”

He paused, then added, “I can’t predict how the northern front will play out. But I won’t take part in it, and neither should you. Let’s wait and see. For now, with me standing here, even with my small force, you won’t be crossing the river anytime soon.”

Yang Jingxiu sighed. “And what good will come from waiting?”

Cui Wenjing replied, “Xia Chi—ahem, Her Majesty will not pursue those involved in the battle against the late emperor. After all, her own master was leading that battle, and she herself was a rebel. There’s nothing more to be said about it.”

Yang Jingxiu replied, “I believe that she won’t pursue that, but you know what I care about.”

After a moment of silence, Cui Wenjing said, “To use that brat’s words: submit, or face execution. The defeated don’t get choices, unless you align yourself with some powerful god or demon. But even if another Desolate Calamity or Hidden Wind were to appear, it wouldn’t change much. Do you have a Profound Control Realm figure to rely on?”

Yang Jingxiu shook his head without responding.

“There aren’t that many powerful gods and demons, and even fewer who care about the human world’s affairs,” Cui Wenjing said, turning to look at him. “If there’s no other option, deciding sooner rather than later gives you a slight advantage. The closer you are to being besieged, the less say you’ll have in the matter.”

Yang Jingxiu chuckled wryly. “Why does it feel like you’re trying to trick me into talking?”

Cui Wenjing grinned. “I’m just playing mediator for my son-in-law. Don’t overthink it.”

Yang Jingxiu stared at the surging waters of the Yellow River, sighing softly. “Your role as a mediator carries too much weight. If we’re to talk about Zhao Changhe’s momentum, I’d say your relationship with him accounts for at least thirty percent of it.”

Cui Wenjing shrugged. “Your relationship with him isn’t that terrible either.”

Yang Jingxiu fell silent, lost in thought.

As they stood there, a golden light streaked across the sky—the Tome of Troubled Times reporting Langya’s fall.

Yang Jingxiu smiled bitterly. “Faster than I expected... Langya’s defenses must have been riddled with holes for it to fall so easily.”

Cui Wenjing asked, “With the Wang Clan finished, are you planning to bet on the Li Clan or the barbarians?”

Yang Jingxiu sighed again. “I don’t want to tie myself with the northern barbarians, and I don’t agree with the Li Clan’s actions. But what choice do I have?”

“Well, you could sever ties quickly. You’re not the kind of person to cling to dead ends. If you withdraw now, considering your part in taking down Maitreya, you’ll still have a place in the aristocracy. At worst, you’ll remain a local aristocratic family. But if you wait until the dynasty has crushed the Li Clan and turns its attention to you, you won’t even get to keep a comfortable estate to retire to.”

Yang Jingxiu was silent for a moment before speaking softly, “After this battle, I will resign from my post and dedicate myself to scholarly pursuits. The Yang Clan of Hongnong will no longer involve itself in the affairs of the world. If the younger generation wishes to enter the government or the military, they may rely on their own abilities; it will have nothing to do with the family.”

Cui Wenjing looked at his old friend, his heart heavy. He could sense the despondency in Yang Jingxiu’s tone—a resignation to the times. He understood it well, for he had once felt the same way.

The world was changing, and the future was uncertain. Amidst the chaos, it was hard to find one’s place. To retreat into the solace of anonymity was, perhaps, a wise choice.

He sighed and replied quietly, “Very well. Perhaps the ashes of one path may kindle another. A century from now, who’s to say Hongnong won’t produce the world’s foremost scholars?”

Yang Jingxiu chuckled, his mood lightened. “Care for a drink?”

Cui Wenjing gestured invitingly. The two sat by the banks of the Yellow River, between the camps of two opposing armies, and laid out a wine flask.

Yang Jingxiu said, “Shall I have someone fetch some snacks to go with the wine?”

Cui Wenjing laughed. “Why not wait for a victory report to toast with? Wouldn’t that be even better?”

Yang Jingxiu could not help but laugh. “You have far too much confidence in your son-in...what?!”

As he spoke, a flash of golden light lit up the sky once more.

With Langya fallen, Zhao Changhe and Empress Xia executed a feint, presenting the illusion of vulnerability. Huangfu Shaozong led his forces southward from the capital, while Chief Minister Lu Jianzhang and twenty other high-ranking officials and aristocratic families rebelled, colluding with the northern barbarian to seize the capital.

Yeletu, Protector of the Tngri Temple and nineteenth on the Ranking of Earth, led a cavalry force through Guanzhong, launching a nighttime raid under cover of snow. Within the city, Lu Jianzhang’s conspirators opened the gates to welcome them, falling directly into the Empress’ trap.

Xia Chichi personally led the imperial guards to pin Yeletu at the palace gates, Vermillion Bird routed the ancient demon god Dark Oblivion atop the imperial city, and Tang Wanzhuang executed Lu Jianzhang, Lu Shouyi, Pei Yushi, and fourteen others on the Rankings of Earth and Man, annihilating their forces. Blood flooded the streets of the capital.

Meanwhile, Huangfu Shaozong’s ambush in the Taihang Mountains devastated the Li Clan’s army of 100,000, with thousands slain and their remains littering the mountain passes, turning Taihang crimson.

This campaign caused the fall of several on the Rankings of Heaven, Earth, and Man, brought ruin to the aristocratic families, and obliterated elite forces. It marks both a tragedy for the world of martial arts and the establishment of a new dynasty.

The blind woman, failing to compose a poetic epilogue, blushed furiously in a corner where Zhao Changhe could not see her.

But Yang Jingxiu stared at the report for a long time before turning to Cui Wenjing and saying, “I’m reminded of a passage the Tome of Troubled Times once wrote about Zhao Changhe.”

“Which one?”

“The long river rushes onward unstoppably.[1]”

1. This is the final line in Chapter 130. Note, once again, that Changhe’s name can be literally translated as “long river.” ☜