Chapter 108: The Arrival Has Come

Black hair, threads of longing.

Holding a strand of black hair that still carried a faint fragrance, Zhao Yu felt the delicate, charming face of Xiao Yiyi emerge once more before his eyes.

A fine sable coat and a sachet containing that lock of hair—these were the things Xiao Sixian had entrusted to him.

"When the spring breeze and the jade dew meet, they surpass countless others in the world; if the love between two hearts remains eternal, why must they be together morning and night?"

Zhao Yu did not know how to describe his current state of mind. In the end, a thousand words were reduced to a single, long sigh.

Xiao Sixian had actually been lured away from the Upper Capital. He had been ordered to garrison Huanglong Prefecture, ready to launch a counterattack against the Jurchens at any moment. Since Huanglong Prefecture was a necessary stop on Zhao Yu’s journey, he had waited there to intercept him.

Previously, Huanglong Prefecture had been occupied by the Jurchens. After Aguda and his men were blown to pieces, the Jurchens had voluntarily retreated, and Xiao Sixian had reoccupied the city, boasting to Emperor Tianzuo that it was his own military achievement. Who would have guessed he would boast so loudly that the Emperor simply sent him, this "pseudo-god of war," to guard the place?

By now, Huanglong Prefecture had been ravaged beyond recognition by the Jurchens. Everywhere were broken walls and ruined ramparts; the entire place was nothing more than a wasteland. Only a handful of elderly residents remained, refusing to leave; the others had either fled or been dragged away by the Jurchens. How could the word "miserable" even begin to describe it?

In stark contrast to this, a vast Liao military camp stretched endlessly to the west of the city. According to Xiao Sixian, ten thousand troops were stationed there, all of them elite Liao soldiers.

Listening to Xiao Sixian’s self-aggrandizement, Zhao Yu could not help but smile bitterly to himself. If these were the elites who had been beaten into trash by the Jurchens, what must the ordinary troops be like?

Beyond Huanglong Prefecture to the east lay the Jurchen sphere of influence, where the Liao army dared not set foot.

Standing on the ruined ramparts of Huanglong Prefecture, Zhao Yu could not help but say to Xiao Sixian, "Commander Xiao, since it has come to this, why not abandon it?"

Hearing Zhao Yu's question, Xiao Sixian allowed a rare, bitter smile to touch his lips. "Do you think I don't want to?"

Watching the pained expression on Xiao Sixian’s face, Zhao Yu understood: Emperor Tianzuo would never agree to it. High above in the imperial court, the ruler knew nothing of the suffering of the soldiers on the front lines. It was hard to say who was right or wrong in such a situation.

"You are a decent man. There are many things you should understand without me saying them. Both my brother and I hope you can return safely."

Zhao Yu was taken aback by this sudden, cryptic remark. He turned to look at him, and after a moment, he smiled faintly. "The ways of the world are unpredictable, but I will remember your words."

As they spoke, a black line suddenly appeared on the snow-covered wilderness in the distance, racing toward them at breakneck speed.

The news of Zhao Yu’s imminent arrival had long since been sent to Huining, so there was no need to check the flags to know that it was the Jurchens.

From afar, there were not many Jurchen horsemen—only three or four hundred—but despite their small numbers, they managed to project the overwhelming presence of a massive army.

Zhao Yu watched coldly, noticing that the Liao soldiers, including Xiao Sixian, all wore expressions of terror; their posture suggested they were on the verge of turning and fleeing.

"General Yelü Buhua, I have appreciated your care along this journey. You need not accompany me on this trip to the Jurchens."

Yelü Buhua had been deeply resistant to this mission from the start—which explained his attitude toward Zhao Yu—and was stunned by these words.

Everyone, including Xiao Sixian, assumed Zhao Yu was being noble and generous because he knew he was going to his death, not realizing that Zhao Yu represented only himself and had no intention of representing anyone else.

Zhao Yu nodded with a smile to the dumbfounded Xiao Sixian and Yelü Buhua, then turned and strode down from the city walls, with Yan Qing and Han Shizhong following closely on either side.

"The Prince of Song is a true man!"

After holding it in for a long time, Yelü Buhua finally uttered these words.

At the foot of the city, Zhao Yu took the lead. Behind him, Yan Qing carried a flag emblazoned with a large "Song" character, while Han Shizhong held a banner featuring a soaring eagle.

Because Zhao Yu was originally a man of the Song and had been titled Prince of Song by Emperor Tianzuo, the first flag held dual meanings, while the eagle banner represented his own aspirations and served as his personal emblem.

Three men, three horses, standing firm beneath the city walls. Set against the backdrop of the wolf-like Jurchens in the distance, they appeared thin and vulnerable, yet they exuded a unique, indomitable aura.

The Liao soldiers on the walls were stunned by the display. It was said that the Han people were weak, so why was there no trace of it in this Prince of Song? Was his courage forged of iron?

The incoming Jurchen force consisted entirely of pure-blooded Jurchens, led by Wanyan Ang, the youngest brother of Aguda.

Although Wanyan Ang was Aguda's own brother, he was notorious for his violent temper and had never been entrusted with significant responsibilities.

Originally, Wanyan Xiyin had not intended to send anyone to meet Zhao Yu, as they had planned to humiliate him from the start. However, when Wanyan Ang, who was busy forcibly relocating tribes in the vicinity, heard that an envoy from the Liao had arrived, he had ridden over to kill them himself.

Word had come from Huining that this Han man was likely the mastermind behind Aguda’s death, which was why Wanyan Ang was so filled with fury.

According to Wanyan Ang’s expectations, since the Liao had sent an envoy, they should have put on a grand display. Had that been the case, he intended to crush the Liao force and drag the envoy back to Huining.

He never expected such a scene upon meeting them. Before they had even reached the city walls, he found himself slowing his pace.

All thunder and no rain—that was the most accurate description of Wanyan Ang and his men. Though faced with hundreds of fierce Jurchens, Zhao Yu and his two companions showed no trace of fear, which made Wanyan Ang suspicious. He wondered if the "Liao dogs" had some devious trap in store.

After galloping close, he looked Zhao Yu up and down and barked, "You Liao dog, was it you who killed my Great Khan?"

One only needed to hear a man speak to judge his character.

"Jurchen dog, if you want others to respect you, you would do well to clean up your mouth. Furthermore, I do not know where you heard that I killed your Great Khan. Think about it—if it were you, would you dare to come here?"

It was the first time anyone had dared to call the Jurchens "Jurchen dogs." Before Wanyan Ang could even speak, a rider behind him surged forward, wielding a great saber as he charged at Zhao Yu.

"Liao dog, die!"

Before the rider could reach Zhao Yu, a figure leapt into the air from beside him, pouncing like a goshawk on a rabbit. A sharp cry followed, and the rider was sent flying backward.

It all happened in a flash of lightning. By the time everyone realized what had occurred, the rider had hit the ground with a heavy thud, never to move again. No one had even seen how he had been knocked from his horse.

After a moment of stunned silence, thunderous cheers erupted from the city walls behind Zhao Yu. Xiao Sixian and the others finally understood why Zhao Yu had dared to risk his life alone.

Wanyan Ang and his men were equally bewildered, as if they had seen a ghost. They looked at Yan Qing, who had already leapt back onto his horse, and then at the Jurchen rider lying motionless on the ground, and for a long while, no one dared to utter a sound.

Yan Qing excelled at close-quarters combat, and being as light as a swallow, he had succeeded in a single strike. Had the opponent been prepared or a master of martial arts, the attack would never have worked.

Seeing that the point had been made, Zhao Yu spoke slowly: "General, I am a guest invited by your Bojilie. Can we be on our way now?"