The Imperial Guards bore a resemblance to Xiao Chinye, yet they were far more cunning. They were a force that left the Northern Cavalry with mixed feelings. After the Yongyi era, their reputation had faded—they had become little more than ornaments in Qu City, with even their original patrol duties usurped by the Eight Camps. For decades, they had performed menial tasks, presenting an air of contented idleness. Yet when they met Xiao Chinye, it was as if the dust had been wiped away—they finally shone in Qu City.
The Imperial Guards were different from the Northern Cavalry, and different from the Qidong garrison. They could ignore all distractions and focus solely on Xiao Chinye. They could hear no evaluations, no rumors—only his hand gestures, and they would follow him into fire and over blades. Their loyalty was mixed with a strange sense of righteousness.
At this moment, the enemy and friendly forces were clearly unequal in number, yet the Imperial Guards showed no fear. They chopped the front legs of the vanguard Biansha cavalry, creating a breach in Hansen’s encirclement. But the reinforcements were numerous, and their adaptability formidable. Without orders, they already perceived the Imperial Guards’ intent.
The Imperial Guards sought to cut legs, but the Biansha riders dismounted before reaching the battlefield. They wore no armor, clad only in light, warm furs, and moved with extraordinary agility. Unlike Hu and Lu’s forces, each horse carried a backup saber at the thigh, along with a spiked lance. Should their sabers break, they could switch to the spare or use the lance in close combat.
They were silent, disciplined, and highly trained.
Xiao Chinye was gasping for breath, his eyes cold and sharp as they swept over this elite force.
Hansen did not speak. He had no need to negotiate with Xiao Chinye, nor did he wish to threaten Xiao Fangxu through him. He knew keeping Xiao Chinye alive meant endless future trouble; now was the moment to eliminate him.
Hansen and Xiao Chinye faced each other. Hansen’s hand gripped his curved blade, the other hand relaxed the reins as he stepped lightly into the mud. They were like wild animals sizing each other up, the air thick with bloodlust and mutual disdain. Hansen circled, wading through the muck, studying Xiao Chinye.
Raindrops still clung to the night, sliding down Xiao Chinye’s raised hand. He held the Wolf Fang Blade, eyes tracking Hansen.
There was a strange calm amid the surrounding slaughter. Xiao Chinye felt a chilling quiet, forcing him to restrain the murderous intent swelling within.
Suddenly, Hansen struck. His red hair flashed like a torch in the dark as he lunged through the splattering mud, bringing his curved blade to Xiao Chinye’s throat. Xiao Chinye recoiled, mud fanning out around his legs, and swung the Wolf Fang Blade in a wide arc. The clash sent Hansen sliding back slightly, but he quickly recovered and learned to evade effectively.
The Wolf Fang Blade was heavy—a weapon powered by Xiao Chinye’s raw arm strength. Hansen aimed to sever his arm with every strike. Xiao Chinye’s swings often met empty air, but Hansen sidestepped, avoiding the full force.
Behind Xiao Chinye, sudden attackers emerged. He used every sense to detect them, yet his energy drained rapidly. Within half an hour, he felt his movements slow. Hansen pressed the assault again, while a strong gust of attackers came from behind. Xiao Chinye sidestepped, grabbed an arm, spun, and kicked Hansen aside, breaking the attacker’s wrist. Another saber struck his arm, blocked by the arm-bound steel sent by Shen Zechuan.
Mud exploded like cannon fire. The Wolf Fang Blade was pressed down by the Biansha cavalry. Xiao Chinye struck one with his left fist, relieving some pressure. He lifted his blade—but Hansen, abandoning the curved saber, drew the thigh-mounted spike, leaping precisely. An Imperial Guard suddenly lunged, wrapping his arms around Hansen’s waist in a wrestling hold, but could not topple him.
Hansen twisted the spike, piercing the guard’s side armor; blood gushed. He evaded Xiao Chinye’s blade just in time.
Both sides were shedding blood. The Imperial Guards never expected Hansen’s elite to be so formidable, and Hansen’s men were equally shocked by the Guards’ resilience.
Around them, Biansha cavalry drew light chains with small bronze balls, similar to the Northern Cavalry’s hooks but much lighter. They tightened the encirclement, and when Xiao Chinye was pinned again, countless chains flew, entangling his limbs.
Hansen’s spikes pressed toward Xiao Chinye’s face. He barely blocked with all his strength. The chains shook under the combined weight, and his temples dripped with a mix of sweat and mud. He attempted to break free, but the sheer number of chains overwhelmed him. His arms could not withstand the strain. As sabers threatened his neck, he glimpsed the dark sky, the winds of Hongyan Mountain whipping his soaked hair. In desperation, he thought of Shen Zechuan.
Hansen, confident of victory, did not anticipate that Xiao Chinye, enduring the combined pull, would manage to lift his legs and flip the mounted attacker. The chains swung violently, but the cavalry immediately tightened them, forcing him back to the mud.
Tonight, escape was impossible.
At the critical moment, the ground trembled. Water droplets bounced from the bushes, and the horn sounded across the night.
Hansen glanced south. A lone rider charged, followed by a black wave of unstoppable force. The mud shook with their approach; the thunderous hooves hinted at the weight of steel.
Hansen blew his whistle. His cavalry remounted, retreating north in formation. As he turned his horse, he looked regretfully at Xiao Chinye, touched his fingers to his brow in farewell, and vanished into the dust and chaos.
A black steed circled Xiao Chinye.
Xiao Fangxu removed his helmet, glancing at Xiao Chinye before commanding his men: “Untie the second young master. You look ridiculous.”
Xiao Chinye’s face was grim—the shame of tasting defeat for the first time.
The Sha Third Camp had five battalion commanders, all under Xiao Fangxu. By rank, Xiao Chinye was the lowest. Yet tonight, his defeat had been humiliating. Squatting outside the tent, he doused himself with cold water, each commander passing by stealing a glance.
He barely noticed the cuts on his shoulders, chest, and back as the cold water stung his skin. Eventually, he set the bucket aside and entered the tent.
Inside, a fire was burning. His tattered armor was beyond repair. Xiao Fangxu inspected the dented steel bindings. Left Qianqiu ordered the military doctor to treat Xiao Chinye’s wounds. He sat on a low stool, bare-backed.
After a while, Chen Yang, Guo Jin, Dantai Hu, and Wu Ziyu entered.
“Report the casualties to your commander,” Xiao Fangxu instructed, tossing the arm-binding onto the table.
Chen Yang spoke quietly: “Three hundred Imperial Guards dead…”
“Louder!” Xiao Fangxu barked. “Why the long face?”
Chen Yang raised his voice: “Three hundred dead, thirty-six heavily wounded, eight lightly injured.”
The Imperial Guards were Xiao Chinye’s foundation; their losses rested on him. This unique force could not be rebuilt in the North. Even a single defeat caused compounded damage. For the Qidong garrison or Northern Cavalry, three hundred casualties would be minor; for the Imperial Guards, it was severe.
Silence fell. Dantai Hu glanced at Chen Yang and Guo Jin, then mustered courage: “Hansen caught us off guard, master, and you also…”
“You must also report the casualties among the three major camps of Liuyang,” Xiao Fangxu continued sternly.
Chen Yang hesitated, then said: “Southern forces suffered eight hundred ninety-two dead, forty-five heavily wounded, two hundred thirty-seven lightly injured.”
“The Chao Hui forces were originally on the northern route,” Xiao Fangxu explained. “The southern troops were temporarily established to aid the Imperial Guards, totaling two thousand. While digging collapsed horse trails, they were ambushed by Hansen’s northern cavalry—half were lost.” He looked at Xiao Chinye. “If you had stayed put, you could have met them within two hours. But by rashly entering Tudalong Banner, this loss occurred. How do you plan to explain this to Chao Hui?”
Xiao Chinye remained silent.
“You must remember: you are the commander of the supply transport, not the battle commander. Using a few hundred men to assault Hansen’s forces—were you kicked by a donkey, Xiao Chinye?” Xiao Fangxu’s sternness intensified.
Wu Ziyu could not restrain himself and fell to his knees. Dantai Hu followed, confused, and then Chen Yang and Guo Jin knelt as well.
Xiao Fangxu’s gaze swept over them.
Wu Ziyu, weakly: “My lord… it’s… my legs gave out.”