Chapter 85: The Blood Debt of Twenty Years Past

The war drums thundered in unison, striking fear into the hearts of all who heard them. This signaled that the iron cavalry of Qishan, who had long endured in silence, had at last resolved to strike against the Tianfeng Camp.

Qi Zhaoxuan’s face was filled with shock. He had introduced an imposter to pose as Han Yuyang precisely to pressure the Qishan faction, to force them to surrender the command token, believing they would not dare attack—for such an act would constitute open rebellion.

Tianfeng Camp represented the imperial court of Great Qian, dispatched to collect the command token. For Qishan not only to refuse, but to launch a brazen assault, would make matters gravely serious.

Yet now, with the drums sounded and armored riders charging toward them, Qi Zhaoxuan regretted bringing so few soldiers. With events having escalated to this point, there was nothing left but to stand firm and face Qishan head-on. As the second-in-command of Tianfeng Camp, Qi Zhaoxuan had witnessed scenes no less daunting than this.

He immediately issued an order, “Hold the line—prepare to engage the enemy!”

The command spread throughout the ranks, and every soldier readied for battle.

Between the two armies, Old Wu and Jiang Chen, still locked in combat with their foes, were taken aback by the sudden peal of drums—Jiang Chen especially wondered why Duan Yuquan, who had always sought to avoid escalation, would now change his mind. Surely, he must have seen that the prisoner in the cage was not Han Yuyang.

What, then, had caused Duan Yuquan to reconsider so drastically? For Qishan, to attack Tianfeng Camp was the worst possible strategy; after today, the entire court would brand them as rebels, and a bloodbath would inevitably follow.

Clang!

Jiang Chen parried the tip of his opponent’s spear and shouted to Old Wu, “That man is not Han Yuyang. We need to leave—now!”

But Old Wu’s gaze was fixed on Qi Zhaoxuan ahead; it seemed this was the man he truly cared about.

“Hold them off for me. I must settle a blood debt from twenty years ago!”

Old Wu’s eyes blazed with fury. Jiang Chen did not know the source of the wrath that had long smoldered in Old Wu’s heart, but he knew there was no longer any persuading him.

The two spurred their horses in opposite directions, exchanging a glance. Jiang Chen leveled his spear, blocking the remaining five of the previously ten-strong Breaking Wind Cavalry, holding them at bay behind him as Old Wu pressed on.

On the other side, Qi Zhaoxuan watched intently as Qishan’s iron cavalry charged in from the slopes on both sides of the valley. He could not understand why the main Qishan formation to his front remained unmoved—if they were launching a full assault, there should be a frontal attack as well.

Moreover, the cavalry charging from the flanks had clearly lain in ambush at the foothills, which meant Qishan had planned this long in advance. They had never ruled out the possibility of a major offensive.

Qi Zhaoxuan’s mind was in turmoil. As he lost focus, a sudden gust roared before him—the pounding of hooves growing ever nearer—a spear thundered down upon him with unstoppable force.

Whoosh!

Ordinarily, Qi Zhaoxuan would never have waited until such a perilous moment to react, but Old Wu’s speed was unmatched—of all the horsemen Qi Zhaoxuan had faced in his life, none rode better.

The spear’s tip grazed Qi Zhaoxuan’s forehead, carving a long, narrow gash just above his right brow.

Had he not leaned back in time, the spear would have split his skull wide open. Such was the ferocity of Old Wu’s attack—but Qi Zhaoxuan was lucky to survive.

The blood awakened memories long buried. Qi Zhaoxuan no longer believed this was some nameless old soldier before him.

“Old scoundrel, you seek my death?”

There was both astonishment and anger in his voice.

No sooner had he spoken than the Qishan cavalry crashed into the Tianfeng Camp’s ranks like a tidal wave, slaughtering all in their path—steel flashed, and blood flowed in torrents.

Amid the chaos, Jiang Chen fended off his adversaries, trying to reach Old Wu. Yet the melee was so dense that, despite their proximity, the two were kept apart by the surging tides of warriors locked in battle.

Old Wu, eyes fixed on Qi Zhaoxuan’s distinctive battle standard, called out coldly, “Twenty years ago, at the Jiao River crossing, it was your ambush that led to the deaths of one hundred seventy-three of my brothers!”

“Today, I will avenge them!”

Suddenly, Qi Zhaoxuan understood. Studying Old Wu more closely, he realized this bearded elder was none other than Wu Kuishan, the infamous “Iron Spring Butcher” who had dominated the field two decades past!

“So it’s you!”

As nemeses met, murderous intent erupted.

Qi Zhaoxuan drew the long spear that had hung at his saddle and engaged the onrushing Old Wu in fierce combat.

Jiang Chen, still pushing through the throng, looked up to see Old Wu wielding his spear with dazzling skill—the technique was so exquisite that Qi Zhaoxuan could only defend, utterly suppressed.

He could not help but marvel, “The old man is truly formidable—his spearwork is peerless!”

Tianfeng Camp’s troops and the two flanking columns of Qishan cavalry clashed in a whirlwind of carnage—men and horses thrown into chaos, flesh and blood flying. Yet something about the scene felt off.

At the rear of the battlefield, Duan Yuquan launched an immediate investigation, only to discover that the two sudden columns of cavalry were not Qishan’s own forces at all. This realization brought both surprise and a keen sense of danger.

“Deputy Commander, what’s going on? Where did these two cavalry units come from? How could we know nothing?”

Duan Yuquan replied in a daze, “I fear this is a great conspiracy against Qishan. Now that battle has begun, it will not be easily ended.”

“Once word spreads, the court will certainly believe Qishan has rebelled—slaughtered the men of Tianfeng Camp, sent in the name of the Emperor. We will be forever branded traitors!”

Duanmu Qing anxiously asked, “What should we do? We must prove these men are not Qishan cavalry!”

“I fear it will not be so easy...”

“In any case, we must not dispatch a single soldier, lest we give them further cause to accuse us!”

Zhao Feihu gripped his saber in anger, longing to cut down every impostor masquerading as Qishan cavalry—but for now, he could only swallow his rage.

At that moment, the war drums from the foothills abruptly ceased. It sounded not like a voluntary retreat, but a forced interruption.

Old Wu, pressing his advantage, heard a desperate cry from behind.

“Help me! I am Wei Ziyu, valiant officer of Qishan’s Phoenix Battalion—I have vital information for the Deputy Commander!”

Old Wu wheeled his horse around, riding to the prisoner who had called out. “Come—mount up. I’ll take you to the main Qishan camp.”

Jiang Chen saw Old Wu, now with a companion, riding toward Qishan’s camp. A chill of dread swept over him.