Chapter 88: Fallen Leaves Return to Their Roots

The Fierce Gale Spear struck true, piercing Qi Zhaoxuan’s throat without the slightest deviation. Thus ended the life of the once-mighty second-in-command of the Heavenly Wind Battalion, cut down by Old Wu’s unparalleled marksmanship—a fitting end for a man of his stature.

Jiang Chen hurried forward to catch Old Wu, who was swaying and about to collapse. “Let me stop your bleeding,” he said.

“No need.”

With his great vengeance fulfilled, the breath that had kept Old Wu alive began to slip away. He raised a trembling hand, pointing at Qi Zhaoxuan’s growingly cold corpse. “Quick… see if he bears a snake-head tattoo on his chest.”

Jiang Chen did as instructed, tearing open Qi Zhaoxuan’s tunic. Indeed, there was a snake-head tattoo, much like that seen on his military standard. Yet this serpent bore three eyes, radiating an eerie, otherworldly menace.

“It’s him!” Old Wu exclaimed. “Years ago, I fought this man. I once lifted the armor from his chest with my spear and saw this very tattoo. For twenty years, it has haunted my dreams. He was the one who slaughtered my one hundred and seventy-three brothers. Now, at last, I can tell their souls that vengeance is done.”

With deep satisfaction, Old Wu threw his head back and laughed, but blood gushed from his mouth as he did so. Jiang Chen understood the feelings that welled up in Old Wu’s heart—he, too, once had comrades who fought by his side, and knew the pain of losing them.

“Take me to the Qishan encampment. I have one last task to finish.”

“Understood.”

Jiang Chen helped Old Wu onto horseback, and together they rode towards the Qishan camp. By now, the battle’s fury on the field had faded; the Heavenly Wind Battalion was fleeing in haste, and Yin Mufan’s traitorous band had vanished as well.

As they neared the camp, Jiang Chen saw Han Yuyang standing beside Duanmu Qing in the distance. It occurred to him that Han Yuyang must have been the one who delayed Yin Mufan and his men.

“Han Yuyang greets General Wu!” Han Yuyang strode to Old Wu’s horse, knelt without hesitation, and paid his respects with utmost reverence, catching others off guard.

Only then did the elder Duan Yuquan recognize Old Wu as the legendary General Wu who had disappeared years before. He immediately stepped forward, saluting in disbelief.

Du Muqing and Zhao Feihu exchanged glances, both unaware of Old Wu’s true identity. Yet Han Yuyang and Duan Yuquan were vice-commanders of the Qishan Iron Cavalry, and their deference suggested this old man’s significance was extraordinary.

“Yuquan, you’ve become the pillar of the army. My efforts in teaching you have not been in vain,” Old Wu said, his voice frail but brimming with pride.

“Master, you never gave up on a wayward scoundrel like me. I owe you a lifetime of gratitude,” Duan Yuquan replied, emotion thick in his voice.

“Good. Take me to see my old friends.”

With great difficulty, Old Wu dismounted. His shirt was soaked in blood, and it was clear to all that his life was fast ebbing away.

“Master…” Duan Yuquan tried to persuade him otherwise, but Old Wu silenced him with a raised hand.

“No more words. Lead the way.”

Seeing Old Wu’s resolve, Duan Yuquan obeyed in silence.

“Miss Du Mu, could I trouble you for a favor?” Jiang Chen turned to Du Muqing, who readily agreed after hearing his request.

Duan Yuquan led Old Wu towards the northern foothills, where the Qishan camp lay nestled against the towering, cloud-piercing mountain—its sheer slopes offering a formidable natural defense.

Not far off, there was a cave with a mouth over three meters wide. Normally, no one was allowed to enter, for within were honored the spirits of all those who had fallen in battle for their country.

This was where Old Wu wished to go. The memorial tablets of the Iron Cavalry’s fallen commander, who had died on the front lines not long ago, were enshrined within.

“Old friends, I have come,” Old Wu murmured, his mind half lost in memories. He gently waved off Duan Yuquan’s supportive arm and stepped inside, instructing everyone not to disturb his time with his comrades of old.

Duan Yuquan’s heart ached, knowing his master would not return from this final journey.

“This was always Old Wu’s wish—to return home in the end,” Jiang Chen said softly.

Han Yuyang added, “General Wu is the very soul of the Qishan Iron Cavalry. His return here means everything to us all.”

“What? Do you mean this old man is the ‘Iron Spring Butcher’ from twenty years ago?” Zhao Feihu, slow to realize, was left gaping in astonishment as the truth dawned on him. It was Old Wu’s legendary deeds that had inspired Zhao to join the Qishan army, always aspiring to emulate this hero and achieve greatness on the battlefield. Never did he imagine he would meet his idol in the flesh today.

Meanwhile, Han Yuyang and Jiang Chen exchanged information and confirmed their suspicions: Yin Mufan and his band of traitors had infiltrated Qishan with the sole aim of inciting war between Qishan and the Heavenly Wind Battalion. The men of the Patrol Battalion had been slain by these villains, creating the illusion that the Iron Cavalry had attacked the Heavenly Wind Battalion.

The Heavenly Wind Battalion represented the court of the Great Qian Dynasty, and now was a sensitive time when Qishan was already under suspicion from the throne. This incident would assuredly incite powerful voices in the imperial court, demanding Qishan’s erasure from the realm.

Han Yuyang had fought off Yin Mufan and his men while covering Jiang Chen’s retreat, but ultimately, they escaped, hoping to force Qishan into a desperate situation and onto the path of rebellion. Their plot was dangerously close to success; a perfect solution was urgently needed to defuse this crisis.

Soon, Du Muqing arrived with Wu Yue. Having learned of her father’s condition on the way, Wu Yue was weeping uncontrollably, her face streaked with tears. Jiang Chen went to her and escorted her into the cave.

Let father and daughter have their final farewell here.

Jiang Chen stood in silent vigil outside. It was not long before Wu Yue emerged to announce to the others that Old Wu had passed away peacefully among his old comrades.

A mighty, mournful horn sounded across the Qishan camp. All gathered to bid farewell to this legendary warrior, who had spent the last moments of his life fighting for the honor of Qishan.

In his heart, Jiang Chen made a silent vow: Old Wu, rest assured. I will look after Yue’er and Qingshan—I will care for them as my own. And your matchless spear technique shall not vanish—I will pass it on to Qingshan when I find him, along with your Fierce Gale Spear.

That night, a bitter wind swept the land, as if mourning the passing of a hero and telling the sorrow of his final curtain call.