Chapter 58: A Sweeping Victory

The chief of Liuguang Stronghold approached, his face sincere as he spoke, “This time, we owe the survival of Liuguang Stronghold to you two brothers and our friends from the dragon clan.”

Ye Zihan waved his hand and said, “The three of us were deceived and became the fuse for this crisis—naturally, we should step in. On top of that, having been tricked, we’re full of frustration and resentment. If we don’t repay this grudge, we’ll not sleep easy.”

Yan Chen also smiled. “No need for such courtesy, chief. Let’s drive off those soldiers first.”

“You two must not go,” the chief replied at once. “We are outlaws, and offending the government’s men has always been our lot. If you two are seen and your faces recognized, traveling across the continent will be impossible for you—every city will hang your portrait. Greedy eyes will be everywhere, reporting you to the authorities and bringing endless trouble.”

Ye Zihan and Yan Chen exchanged a glance, then both nodded. “But what if not a single one of them escapes?”

Mo You, too, was brimming with excitement. “The more enemies, the better! I didn’t get to fight enough just now.”

“These soldiers—some are simply following orders and have no choice. Ignorance is no crime. In Liuguang Stronghold, we never slay those without evil in their hearts,” said the chief. Those behind him echoed their agreement.

“In that case, the three of us won’t insist. We’ll stay here and await good news from you and the other leaders,” Ye Zihan said with a respectful gesture, and Yan Chen followed suit.

All of Liuguang Stronghold’s men were true heroes, their character on full display at this moment. The two brothers felt a renewed respect for the place. If it were up to Ye Zihan, any intruder would be slain without mercy, and Yan Chen was of the same mind.

“Very well! Then you two brothers, along with our dragon friend, wait here for our triumphant return. Then we’ll feast and drink together in celebration!” The chief’s spirit soared, and with a hearty laugh, he led his men up the mountain.

As they watched the group’s retreating backs, Ye Zihan began to look around carefully for any who might have slipped through the net. Yan Chen also moved to search among the bodies, checking for anyone feigning death.

Whether by chance or by a stroke of intuition, there was indeed a bandit from Qingshui Stronghold among the corpses. A knife had pierced his right leg; he’d passed out from the pain, but was not dead.

“Don’t kill him—leave him alive,” Ye Zihan called out as he saw Yan Chen raise his Qingfeng sword, ready to strike. He hurried over, took a pill from his robes, and fed it to the man.

“Zihan, why are you doing this?” Yan Chen asked, puzzled. This was a man from Qingshui Stronghold—why save him? Had Ye Zihan been moved by the compassion of Liuguang’s people? That didn’t sound like the Ye Zihan he knew.

As Yan Chen suspected, Ye Zihan had his own reasons. “Mo You only found two pieces of sheepskin in Qingshui’s camp. With the one given to us earlier, we’re still missing a piece.”

Yan Chen nodded in sudden understanding. “We killed so many just now, I almost forgot all about that.”

---

“Hmph. How can your pig brain compare with my big brother? I told you, you should address him as ‘Big Brother.’ There’s much you could learn from him,” Mo You, now shrunk to the size of a palm, poked his dragon head out from Ye Zihan’s robes.

Yan Chen opened his mouth, but noticed the small dragon’s eyes fixed intently on his limbs. He shuddered and fell silent. He had no idea about the secret of the four golden rings, but the memory of his recent pain was enough—he wanted no more of it.

“Glad you know your place. Otherwise, I’d be far less forgiving this time,” Mo You said in his childish voice, the tone full of arrogant pride. He assumed a lofty posture, casting a sidelong glance at Yan Chen, whose fists were clenched in frustration, yet dared not protest.

Ye Zihan burst out laughing. Man and dragon—both incorrigible. In recent days, they’d brought him much laughter, easing somewhat the grief of nearly losing his mentors, Master Hongyan and Master Lanyu.

Back on the mountain’s ridge, the fires of battle still raged. It was already late morning; the sun shone high, yet smoke veiled its light. The sounds of battle carried down the slopes. The worst of the fire was abating; soon, the last flames were extinguished. Chief Song Tielin and the seventh leader, Huang He, came running, beaming with joy.

“Thank you for waiting,” Song Tielin said with a bow, then smacked his forehead. “Shame on me. You helped Liuguang defeat Qingshui, yet I haven’t introduced myself! My name is Song Tielin.”

The seventh leader bowed as well. “Earlier, in the council hall, I was rude to you both. Please forgive my offense. My name is Huang He.”

Ye Zihan and Yan Chen hurried to return the courtesy. These two were important figures in Liuguang Stronghold.

“My name is Ye Zihan,” he said.

“And I am Yan Chen.”

“And me… Mo You,” came the childish voice as a dragon’s head poked from Ye Zihan’s robe.

Both Song Tielin and Huang He were momentarily stunned. The dragon, once over a zhang in length, now adorable and palm-sized—had they not seen its majesty, they might have been tempted to dismiss it for its size.

Introductions made, no one pressed further about backgrounds. All those who traveled the world knew the unspoken rules—if someone did not speak of their past, it was for a reason and not to be forced.

“Please, my young friends,” Song Tielin gestured, walking side by side with Ye Zihan and Yan Chen, with Huang He following.

“Oh, right, Chief. There’s still a survivor from Qingshui Stronghold. Could you see to his care? I have questions for him,” Ye Zihan said, turning to point at the man he’d revived with a pill.

“No problem.”

---

Back atop the mountain ridge, gone were the neat rows of houses; all that remained were charred frames. Corpses were being carried away—soldiers in uniform, men from Liuguang and Qingshui Strongholds alike. Blood was everywhere; in low-lying places, it pooled, forming crimson pits.

Scene after scene of carnage passed before their eyes. Ye Zihan and Yan Chen both considered themselves hard-hearted, yet, confronted with such devastation, a trace of sorrow welled up within them.

Human life is fragile. Last night, these men feasted and drank heartily. Now, their bodies lay cold—some missing limbs, some with eyes unclosed in death, some decapitated. There were those whose throats had been slit by sword or blade, those pierced by multiple knives, those dismembered and beheaded—every conceivable, horrific death was present.

Yan Chen frowned, forcing himself not to stare at the corpses, yet his eyes were drawn despite himself. By the time he’d circled the area, he felt something rising from his stomach to his throat.

“I can’t take it…” he muttered, then hurried away from the piles of bodies, bracing himself against a tree to vomit.

Ye Zihan, his face ashen, quickly left the carnage behind with Song Tielin and Huang He, only then able to catch his breath. Beads of sweat stood out on his brow.

Chief Song Tielin said nothing. In his youth, he’d been even more squeamish—he’d wept just from killing a dog, let alone a man. Only after certain experiences did he adapt to this world where the strong prey upon the weak.

Huang He merely nodded. Seventh among the ten leaders, still just over thirty, he’d once thought himself brave and unafraid, but after his first kill, he’d been haunted for days, unable to sleep.

Compared to them, Ye Zihan’s reaction was already commendable. He had been despised since childhood, raised on the law of the jungle, the creed that strength is all. He had felt its weight deeply. Later, under the guidance of Master Hongyan and Master Lanyu in the Monster Beast Mountains, he had often heard tales of strong men undone by misplaced mercy.

“Years ago, I was afraid to kill even a chicken, let alone a man. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Brother Yan,” Song Tielin said. Yan Chen had been mortified by his own weakness just now, but these words eased the knot in his heart.

He laughed sheepishly, then, to dispel his embarrassment, asked with a frown, “Chief Song, I have a question, if you don’t mind.”

“You’ve done Liuguang Stronghold a great service—I’ll always remember it. A mere question? Ask anything you wish. If I can answer, I will not hold back,” Song Tielin replied heartily.

Huang He laughed as well. “But for you two, we wouldn’t have won such a victory. There’s nothing you can’t ask, brother.”

Ye Zihan smiled faintly, then, with a hint of guilt, said, “This whole disaster—Qingshui Stronghold and the government’s attack—it all began because of us. That hardly counts as a great favor.”

“Brother Ye, you’re wrong,” Song Tielin replied. “Clearly, Qingshui and the authorities had been plotting this long before, and you two just happened to get caught up in it. Had you not come, heavy bounties would have drawn others, and without your help, Liuguang Stronghold would surely have been wiped out. Let’s not mention this again. Yan Chen, what was it you wanted to ask?”