Volume One: The Hidden Dragon Beneath the Depths Chapter 108: Matters of the Heart

“Zhong Jie can sacrifice himself and earn a good name. But Chen Ying is truly a man capable of giving his life!” Wang Chuan later told Xu Wei.

“Benevolence, the so-called ‘ren,’ refers to those who skillfully manage relationships among people, mastering this way. There is small benevolence and great benevolence. A benevolent ruler cares for all under heaven and becomes invincible. The highest realm is that of a sage, whose merit covers the heavens.”

“People like Chen Ying may not achieve ren in the conventional sense, but his self-sacrifice should not be forgotten.”

...

“I once heard people say that one must defy heaven and not be crushed by the world. When facing mountains, cross them; facing rivers, ford them; facing the sea, stride across it; when facing heaven and earth, never yield.” Xu Qing’s face twisted in agony, blood streaming from his orifices. “Your path is far too extreme. Why must it be this way?”

Outside, the heavy rain swirled as he let out painful cries.

Light and shadow flickered around him, mingled with surging blood and dense deathly aura as he struggled in torment.

Hunched on the ground, his body convulsed uncontrollably, trembling fiercely. Finally, he cried out in wretched sobs, retching up the contents of his stomach before collapsing to the earth like a dry log.

“I want to live too. I want to live freely and carelessly, to live life at will. But why is it so difficult?”

He lay quietly on the ground, pale-faced, his eyes filled with panic and hesitation.

Besides pain, he had fallen into a state of madness, something deeply imprinted upon his soul.

Amid this torturous suffering, he longed to sink into eternal silence, to end this life and be free of all troubles.

His eyes grew heavier and heavier. Though he tried to roar against the pain, the surroundings were desolate; there was no path forward except agony.

No! He was not alone. He would not die.

A powerful force radiated from his soul, shattering heaven and earth like a storm.

A warm current flowed from an unknown corner of his body, coursing through his limbs, repairing shattered tendons and vessels, making them stronger than before.

Within his bloodline surged great power.

At last, he slowly stood up.

...

On a hillside over a hundred miles from Lishi Prefecture, a group of sturdy soldiers surrounded a burly man with a bronze complexion.

This man wore a strange headpiece made from sheep bones connected to a pair of short sheep horns, with three long feathers stuck in the middle. His hair hung loose, a thick beard covered his rough face, and his deep-set eyes squinted.

The troop moved slowly northwest, escorting carts laden with grain.

The wheels gouged deep tracks into the earth.

“Sir, these are foreign barbarians, people from the Western Yi tribes at the border of the three kingdoms,” reported a general from afar.

“Damn it! Yuan Zhan and the others deserve death a thousand times over for transporting grain with foreign barbarians!” Zhong Jie sneered atop his horse.

In the forest behind him, countless soldiers lay in ambush.

As an imperial envoy bearing the Chancellor’s banner, he had the authority to mobilize local troops.

He had quietly crossed the border without entering the city, and had painstakingly planned every move, selecting only the most reliable men to avoid detection by the Chancellor’s faction.

He had also uncovered clues about their grain-selling operations.

Their movement was relentless.

It seemed the grain was being transported to the Jin Kingdom. Could there be some connection?

What role did Wang Chuan play in all this? Was he aware?

According to his secret investigations, both the Tang and Xia kingdoms had grain shipments going through.

He had a bold theory but needed confirmation.

If true, and if they could not stop it, it would spell disaster for the Xia Kingdom.

The immediate priority was to intercept the grain, find evidence of Yuan Zhan’s illicit sales, and execute them on the spot.

He now clearly understood the foreign force’s strength—about two thousand cavalry, roughly double his own thousand men.

If the enemy passed through the hilly forest unimpeded and deployed on the plain, his thousand soldiers would be like sand trying to block a great river—easily overwhelmed with no chance of resistance.

Knowing death was certain, he would not blindly clash with these desperate men.

As they neared the mountain exit, they dared not take the official road brazenly.

The only terrain advantage Zhong Jie could use was this hundred-mile stretch of hills.

Though inexperienced in command, working with a few captains was sufficient to suppress bandits.

He thought of someone like Wang Chuan, who seemed capable of anything and could win a brilliant battle.

After all, these were bandits, though desperate, and naturally afraid of death.

Unlike Xia soldiers defending their homeland.

Zhong Jie aimed to plan carefully and minimize casualties.

The bandits spread along the mountain paths below the slopes, their tattered flags fluttering, carrying an air of arrogance.

The borderland of the three kingdoms was a harsh, remote land.

These people had no choice but to become warlords, occupying the mountains.

Now was perhaps the chance to end it once and for all.

They were divided into four or five groups, each several hundred strong, separated by only a few hundred paces.

At first, Zhong Jie wondered why bandits were entrusted to transport grain—it seemed like an easy target.

Who had such reckless ideas? This shipment alone totaled roughly fifty thousand stones—a considerable sum.

What was the mastermind behind all this thinking?

Could it be a mere bait? But who knew what the real plan was?

The bandits returned to camp like victors, joking and laughing.

Over a thousand had already passed the mountain exit when suddenly, a thunderous roar echoed as boulders tumbled down to block the path.

Thunderous shouts filled the air.

An ambush?

Two leaders exchanged startled glances, hurriedly shouting orders to their men to counterattack.

“Don’t panic! Don’t panic!”

“Kill!”

How could this happen? Weren’t all three kingdoms supposed to allow their passage?

They had transported grain many times before—how could this trip fail?

Who had gone back on their word?

Soldiers charged from all directions; seeing the armor and weapons, the bandits realized.

And banners were raised.

Xia army?

They could not wait to attack after the enemy had passed, for letting too many enemies escape would only doom themselves.

Clutching his spear, Zhong Jie charged forward personally.

A true warrior must be tempered through fire and blood.

The Xia army was undoubtedly qualified.

But these bandits, a ragtag bunch, soon scattered in panic.

...

“Soldiers of Xia, defend the homeland! Fight every battle and win every battle! Kill!”

Dressed in sturdy armor, Zhong Jie led the charge, leaping through the air. His refined steel spear flashed as he struck down a mountain tribesman wielding a wolf-tooth club before landing.

He spun, parrying several blades aimed at him, his eyes blazing with fierce killing intent.

Soldiers on both sides, seeing their commander lead the assault, shouted in unison, courageously engaging the enemy.

They charged down the slopes, forming ranks between two mountains.

“Hahaha... ignorant Xia dogs! Kill them all! Let none escape!” a bandit chieftain rode up, brandishing a giant axe with wild laughter.

He was a towering man over eight feet tall, broad-shouldered and fierce-faced, commanding many fierce warriors.

The Han were weak; as marauders, they had come and gone without much resistance. Now was the time for their rise!

The Han always feared their plundering, even abandoning their homeland—what was there to fear?

They treated Han like pigs and dogs.

But this battle was different; these were hard fighters, breaking their teeth.

Damn it!

This was the real Han army, a proper military force.

Unlike before, when they toyed with local militia.

Zhong Jie calmly observed the battlefield. The bandits trapped in the valley surged madly, trying to rescue nearly a thousand comrades blocked outside.

But the Xia army held firm, like a spiny hedgehog, every approach deadly.

Like a giant python, slowly constricting and crushing.

One bandit leader had broken through, leaping his horse into the ranks, brandishing his great axe with terrifying momentum.

Suddenly, dozens of spears stabbed at him from all sides. Using brute strength, he knocked away several, sending soldiers stumbling, but he could not defend all sides.

Facing death by spear, he gathered his strength and leapt out of the formation.

His warhorse let out a wild neigh and crashed to the ground, riddled with wounds, beyond saving.

Now, the sun was setting, the valley filled with shouts and screams.

The bandits were breaking.

Suddenly, black smoke billowed ahead.

“Damn! They’re trying to burn the grain! Stop them!”

Zhong Jie’s expression changed drastically as he spurred forward.

Clear metallic clangs of beating gongs rang out, and thunderous hoofbeats sounded outside the mountain pass.

“Charge!”

“You Xia soldiers, remember this—we will settle the score with you!”

The bandit chieftain came charging again, axe raised, determined to assert his authority before his men.

Zhong Jie said nothing, wielded his spear, and charged straight at him.

(End of chapter)