The Legend of Chu Qiao: Division 11's Princess Agent Chapter 266

Chapter 266 Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
As the smell of roses silently dispersed into the air, Chu Qiao stood on the city walls, her gaze wandering between the columns of armor below. The flood of the ages swept past her ears, howling like a tornado that swept past through the skies.
As the pitch-black battle flag flew over Yan Xun’s head, the darkness of the starless night enveloped all but the soldier’s faces, illuminated by tens of thousands of lit torches. Standing in his black robe atop his golden carriage while holding onto his golden bow, Yan Xun gently lifted his head, staring silently at an all too familiar silhouette.
Silence engulfed the battlefield as everyone held their breath. The light rumbling of war drums felt as though the earth were pulsating, inciting the soldier’s fighting spirit. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, as warriors of both sides stared into each other’s eyes. In the next moment, the two formations started storming towards each other for the fight of their lives. In an instant, a torrent of arrows was unleashed by the charging cavalry, showering onto the soldiers, as countless men charged onto the battlefield. The monster of war began unleashing its brutal, bone-chilling savagery.
Clouds covered the moon, it was as though even heaven did not wish to see the gore of war as the battle unfolded into chaos, with the sounds of men screaming and groaning, and horses charging engulfing the battlefield.
It was after an entire day and night fighting when the Xiuli Army used the downtime of Yan Bei Army adjusting their formation to suddenly open the east city gate and storm out on horseback down a narrow path that led to the riverbanks of Tiexian River. This made it impossible for large armies to charge, and as such, the Yan Bei Army pursued them on horseback. Yet as they arrived on the river banks, all they saw was the Xiuli Army using their sheepskin rafts to travel downstream in the strongest of river currents.
“Watch out Master!”
“Be careful Your Highness!”
Almost simultaneously, both Chu Qiao and Yan Xun picked up and released their arrows. They collided in the air with a ding, drawing the cheers of the surrounding soldiers. On the canal, standing atop her raft, Chu Qiao looked at Yan Xun from afar. She was all too aware that this battle was for theatrical purposes as there was no chance Yan Xun would stop her.
Being allies with Lady of Jingan meant that Yan Xun had to defend Hanshui for her. Yet the moment she would conquer Tang Jing was also the time she would lead King Jing An’s successor onto the throne. Then, Yan Bei’s fate would be in the hands of others. Hence, this was a battle that he shouldn’t win, yet one that he could not give up too easily. He still needed Chu Qiao to drag on the civil conflict within Tang to reserve for himself the path through Tanghu Pass.
As rows upon rows of lit torches lit up the river, the pre-dawn darkness lurked on the river along with the wind, only further highlighting the red glow of fire reflected on the water surface.
Yan Xun continued to ride his horse while it dug into the ground repeatedly with its hooves in discomfort. As he rode, he stared at that figure that rapidly disappeared into the vast open river, while the wind ruffled the hair of the horse.
That moment, a crevasse opened in the icy memories of Yan Xun, taking him to a time that he could barely remember, just enough that the faint sounds and sights were beginning to appear just before him. Yet, he could not recall how long ago those memories were from. It was also then that he silently stared into the vast open river in the darkness after the massacre that night. As the fires in Zhen Huang City burned, and endless sounds of killing spread across the plains, their younger selves decided to go down their own individual paths, to do what they felt was right.
Perhaps fate had been set in stone a long time ago. As meteors streaking in opposite directions, their brief encounters would eventually end as both sides set their own paths away from each other.
Standing on the river banks welding her sword, Chu Qiao watched as the last of her troops crossed Hanshui. The wide river splitting east and west seemed to carry with it millions of lives and souls. She looked into the distance, beyond the settling dust and across the fields towards Yan Xun, where a 100,000 armored troops around him seemed to just disappear. Left proudly standing was a man in his dark robe, his eyes as if he had just come out from hell, able to destroy anything in his path alone.
“Ma’am!” Pingan ran up. With his eyes red, he lifted his head and said, “We lost over 6,000 of our men fighting this battle.”
Chu Qiao looked down, only see blood that had yet to dry on his face, the bloodshed he had just witnessed destroying any form of innocence from his time growing up during peacetime.
“Pingan, everything comes at a price,” the Xiuli Army general on horseback replied. She looked at the rows of lit torches for what seemed to be an eternity before softly continuing, “True peace is always attained through war.”
Pingan looked up puzzled, muttering, “True peace?”
“Yes. I won’t live to see it, you may not either. But someday, someone will.” Chu Qiao looked up towards the river bank closer to Hanshui where the raging fires had died out, their billowing smoke seemingly containing tints of gold. In his ink black armor, a man appeared to wander in the night wind. Though the details looked fuzzy, Chu Qiao could very well see his expression and silhouette. Just as he did many years ago, he shot out an arrow from his horseback. With that, he saved her life, and then she accompanied him for a decade.
She held her right shoulder, where she wore black cast iron armor that not even the strongest or fastest arrow could penetrate. It was a gift from Zhao Song that came in a pair, one of which she gave to Yan Xun. She turned back to her army, whipping her horse, and rode along, not once looking back.
Somewhere west of Hanshui, Yan Xun and his horse turned around, as his general approached him. “Your Majesty, do we pursue them?”
Without a word, Yan Xun walked past him for a distance before softly replying, “Retreat.” Like a tide receding back into the ocean, the army retreated. As dawn broke and rays of light spread across the land, the two army’s distance grew further and further apart.
In the vast space inside a tent, a general clad in his armor knelt for what seemed to be an eternity. As the sun set and night fell, darkness enshrouded the tent, save for the faint light of a golden pearl necklace casting the general’s silhouette like a mountain on the inside of the tent.
Since returning from the Tiexian River, he had remained silently sitting in the tent, as if oblivious to everything around him. Outside the tent, the wind gently fluttered the grass, spreading its scent across the night landscape. The month of May in Tang meant it was summer. The crisp sounds of birds chirping reverberated through the darkness. From the tall grass in the plains came fireflies, illuminating the surroundings like the stars in the night sky.
Absolute silence enveloped the tent as the general, fully clad in armor, stood absolutely still, not daring to light a candle or even take a deep breath. He wasn’t one of the first few generals of the Yan Bei Army, much less from the old guard of the Yan royals. In fact, since the rise of the royal family, few from that old guard remained, as those in the military had carved their way to the top by fighting each other. Despite being unpredictable, His Majesty was very clear on the rewards and punishments in serving him. A huge focus on military prowess meant that so long as one was willing to fight, he/she would have the opportunity to show his abilities.
Going by the last name of Mu, the general’s ancestors were well-known scholars in the region. Though his generation had not matched the same heights as their predecessors, they did know and study literature as well as military tactics. This knowledge and insight enabled him to rise up the ranks and become one of the leading generals of the Yan Bei army in just a few years.
Unlike the others, General Mu did not believe that Yan Xun was as violent as the rumors made him out to be. So what if he had killed his own teacher, his own sister, and the many others that stood by him throughout the years? While the average person saw him as over-ambitious and ungrateful, they wouldn’t understand the internal politics and power struggles inside the government, neither would they be able to comprehend the military affairs that he faced. Despite occupying Yan Bei for so many years, they had nothing to show for it, yet they sought to dictate the politics of region despite the incursions from the northern bandits and the east being ruled by Xia that left the Yan Bei populace vulnerable. Another chaotic ruler and regime would only rise if Yan Xun did not immediately unleash a crackdown. A few lives meant nothing in the quest for bigger accomplishments. In the pursuit of power, there was always going to be bloodshed. The difference between a successful ruler and the average person was the different perspective they each adopted towards the same problem. Would one see and think about the big picture, or would he/she put his personal interests beforehand? Hence, General Mu did not have any favorable impressions towards the Xiuli general as he felt women were never destined to achieve great things.
“Mu Lang”, a low voice suddenly crackled, echoing slightly in the large tent. Hearing this, Mu Tang immediately stood up, as the person above continued, “Pass on the message to Cheng Yuan. Tell him to spread his forces along the Song plains and guard the area. Since the Xiuli Army wants to go in, let them do so. Queen Jingan’s forces are still waiting for them inside.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Also, inform him to not attack Zhao Yang’s army. Instead, launch a full-on assault on Zhao Che, and do whatever it takes to destroy Zhao Che’s food supplies.”
“Yes”, Mu Lang hurriedly replied. “I will send someone to Baizhi Pass to pass on the message.”
Yan Xun shook his head, his expression unseen in the darkness. “We are not in a hurry, send the guys tomorrow morning.”
Mu Lang was stunned at hearing this. How could military instructions be not urgent? Yet he did not dare to refute Yan Xun, and instead continued to kneel quietly.
“Here, have a drink with me.” Yan Xun bent forwards ever so lightly, pouring wine into the glass, reflecting the faint light glittering off the pearls. Stunned by the sudden warmth that Yan Xun had shown, Mu Lang hurriedly reached forward to take the glass of wine while remaining kneeling.
Yan Xun casually pointed to a nearby seat. “Don’t stay there, have a seat.”
Mu Lang sat carefully before toasting, “Thank you, Your Majesty, for the wine.”
Yan Xun toasted in return. As Mu Lang poured wine into his glass, he was told lightly, “It has been a while since someone accompanied me to drink. Initially the circumstances meant that we had no time for this, yet now that we have time, those who could accompany me to drink are gone.”
Mu Tang twitched his wrist, his instincts and deep knowledge telling him that something was off ever since Yan Xun gave the order to cease the pursuit of the Xueli Army. The more he thought, the more he felt he had just heard things that he shouldn’t have been told to begin with.
“Here.” Yan Xun said casually, before again gently toasting Mu Tang’s glass wine, not the caring about the red wine that dripped on his hand. Even with an entire barrel of wine, he drank glass after glass. It didn’t take long for the barrel to be half empty.