Chapter Eighty-Three: Confiscating the Military Tokens

At the same time, Duanmu Qing also noticed something unusual about Jiang Chen. This man possessed a calm composure and unique insight; he could even offer accurate advice in matters of combat. It was hard to believe such a person hailed from an official’s household.

After all, the current imperial court of Great Qian was mired in corruption, filled with collusion between sycophants and scoundrels. Few of the high-ranking ministers genuinely served the court or advocated for the people; most schemed for personal gain while neglecting their duties.

In such an environment, it was difficult to imagine a nobleman's son conducting himself with the humility and poise Jiang Chen displayed, always able to analyze the truth of a matter with sharp precision. Such keen judgment required a wealth of experience, yet how many opportunities for hardship and tempering did a pampered young lord usually have?

Suspicion began to grow in Duanmu Qing’s heart regarding Jiang Chen’s true identity. Nevertheless, she felt no hostility from him, nor did she herself harbor any. In fact, she sensed in this young gentleman—who very likely concealed his true origins—a temperament that seemed akin to her own people from Banner Mountain, perhaps because he reminded her of Han Yuyang.

Duan Yuquan then ordered the entire army to hold their formation, preventing the Tianfeng Battalion from making any further dangerous moves. The two armies were separated by only twenty paces; a single cavalry charge could break through the lines in an instant. Yet the Banner Mountain camp did not wish to treat the Tianfeng Battalion as enemies; they were all soldiers of Great Qian—why descend to such fratricidal strife?

Just after Song Tianbo’s arrogance was crushed by Zhao Feihu, a contingent of soldiers emerged from the rear ranks of the Tianfeng Battalion, clad in silver armor. At their head was a man wearing an iron helm that covered his face, his physique imposing and formidable.

The squad arranged itself in a line, two standard bearers with blazing red banners flanking the commander, while the other eight, equally robust, all carried hook-tipped silver lances. Jiang Chen noticed that the vivid flame banners bore an image of a severed snake’s head, the markings on the head twisted into a sinister grin.

He turned to Duanmu Qing and asked, “Who is that? The military standard is quite distinctive.”

Duanmu Qing replied, “That is Qi Zhaoxuan, the second-in-command of the Tianfeng Battalion. The banner is his personal mark. This man’s methods are ruthless and his heart pitiless; the blood on his hands is unmatched in all of Great Qian.”

“I didn’t expect he’d bring the Gale Riders with him today. Clearly, they don’t intend to let us off easily.”

As the two conversed, a prison wagon was slowly rolled out from the Tianfeng Battalion’s ranks, immediately drawing everyone’s attention. Though not a word had been spoken, an unspoken dread weighed on all hearts.

Jiang Chen noticed Duanmu Qing’s expression change drastically as the prison wagon appeared. By now, everyone in the Banner Mountain camp must be thinking of the same person—heaven forbid it was truly him.

“Zhao Feihu, you’ve improved in the past two years, but with your brains, I doubt you saw through Song Tianbo’s darksteel spear. Clearly, someone behind the scenes guided you to this lucky victory,” Qi Zhaoxuan began, mocking Zhao Feihu before continuing, “Brothers of Banner Mountain, I won’t mince words. I’m here today to confiscate your command tokens, as well as the ‘Gu Ma Anthology’ and the ‘Yanwu Cavalry Manual.’”

“This isn’t a negotiation; I’m acting under orders and have no choice.”

Zhao Feihu retorted furiously, “Do you know what you’re saying? Those three items are the treasured relics of Banner Mountain! Why would you think we’d hand them over?”

“If you refuse, you defy an imperial edict. You should understand what that means,” Qi Zhaoxuan replied coldly.

Jiang Chen instantly grasped the true purpose of the Tianfeng Battalion: they had come on imperial orders, and judging by the force they brought, it was not hard to foresee what would happen if Banner Mountain refused to yield the command tokens.

The Tianfeng Battalion had likely received imperial sanction; if Banner Mountain showed any sign of disobedience, they had every right to attack and annihilate them.

Duan Yuquan was resolute as ever: surrendering the command tokens was out of the question, and the other two items as well.

Qi Zhaoxuan, having anticipated this, addressed the Banner Mountain soldiers: “It seems you still do not comprehend the current situation. Han Yuyang assassinated your Iron Cavalry commander in the army, throwing the front lines into chaos and causing a disastrous defeat.”

“This battle cost us a hundred thousand soldiers, with nearly all officers killed in action. Now, the northern territories teeter on the brink of disaster. Because of this, the court suspects Banner Mountain of rebellion, but in view of your past merits, only ordered the confiscation of the command tokens.”

“This is a tremendous act of mercy—should you not be grateful?”

He gestured toward the prison wagon. “Han Yuyang is now my captive, the chief culprit behind the collapse of the northern front. I will now execute him before you all.”

His words threw the Banner Mountain camp into an uproar. The soldiers grew restless, eyes fixed anxiously on the prison wagon shrouded in black cloth. They longed to see if it was truly Han Yuyang inside, but for now, it was impossible to be sure.

Qi Zhaoxuan ordered his men to toss out a suit of armor, which landed with a heavy thud. It was Han Yuyang’s battle gear, now in their hands. This artifact lent further credence to Qi Zhaoxuan’s claims—could Han Yuyang really be inside the wagon?

Duanmu Qing’s fists clenched tightly, her entire body trembling uncontrollably. Jiang Chen sensed there was an unusual connection between her and Han Yuyang.

“The man in the prison wagon is not Han Yuyang,” he told her with absolute certainty.

“How can you be so sure?” Duanmu Qing asked.

Jiang Chen replied, “Han Yuyang fled south from the northern frontier. Armor is heavy and easily identifies its owner. If you were on the run, would you burden yourself with something so cumbersome?”

Duanmu Qing realized his reasoning was sound, yet she could not set her mind at ease.

Judging by the reactions of the Banner Mountain troops, none wanted to believe Han Yuyang had betrayed his commander, but Qi Zhaoxuan’s actions set everyone further on edge.

He took a hook-tipped silver lance from his subordinate and thrust it savagely into the prison wagon, eliciting a heart-wrenching scream from within.

The formation erupted in agitation. Zhao Feihu urgently turned to Duan Yuquan. “Are we just going to watch Yuyang die at Qi Zhaoxuan’s hands?”

“What if he isn’t the one inside?”

“Then let’s fight our way over and see for ourselves!”

Before his words had faded, from afar came the shrill cry of galloping hooves, and a heroic figure darted between the two armies...