Chapter Eighty-Eight: Beyond the Ten-Mile Green Mountains, the General Rides Home

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At dusk, the distant green mountains grew increasingly mysterious, their swirling mists tinted a deep orange by the setting sun. Along the muddy mountain path, splashes of water flew as the thunderous pounding of hooves echoed—an armored cavalry charge was rapidly approaching.

At the forefront rode a man clad in suanni scale armor, wielding a silver dragon spear. This was Yang Yanlang, who had been away from home for over a month. His face bore traces of fatigue, and his snow-white steed galloped swiftly, yet upon catching sight of the silhouette of Wangxian City, he reined in his horse, slowing his pace.

It was not out of hesitation near his homeland, nor fear of the city’s denizens, but because two youths stood atop a large roadside boulder.

One was a handsome young man dressed in embroidered robes, smiling brightly at him, his white teeth gleaming in the twilight.

Beside the rock, a darker-skinned youth scratched his head and grinned foolishly, calling out, “Lord Yang, you’ve finally returned!”

Yang Yanlang dismounted smoothly, and the cavalry behind him followed suit, leading their horses to the youths.

Zhong Ming leapt down from the rock, holding a willow branch which he lightly tapped against Yang Yanlang’s body, murmuring, “A willow branch strike to dispel bad luck.”

A frontier tradition held that those returning from afar were covered in worldly dust; the hometown willow, soft and imbued with spirit, could by its gentle tapping cleanse away impure energies.

Looking at Zhong Ming, Yang Yanlang smiled in return, “Nephew, I’m home.”

The willow branch paused briefly in Zhong Ming’s hand before he smiled sincerely, “Uncle, welcome home.”

They exchanged smiles, while the fine-scale cavalry behind them knelt in unison and struck their chest plates, “Your subordinate greets Young Master Zhong!”

After over a month’s absence, the largest military officer on the frontier, Yang Yanlang, had finally returned.

Floating above the cavalry were several ice lotuses, atop which stood disciples of Bai Yujing led by Boren.

Boren had witnessed the reunion between Yang Yanlang and Zhong Ming and his eyes flashed with a strange light. He murmured, “So this is the son of Xu Qiandao—a scholarly young man, quite unlike his father.”

After watching for a moment and seeing Yang Yanlang had no intention of returning to the city with him, Boren descended from the ice lotus and cupped his hands respectfully, “General Yang, I must return to report. I shall take my leave.”

Yang Yanlang turned and returned the salute, “Master Bo, you may go ahead; I shall not accompany you.”

“The celebration banquet tonight—”

Shaking his head slightly, Yang Yanlang smiled apologetically, “My nephew and I have been apart for some time, many matters to discuss. There will be a family dinner tonight.”

Boren knew well that Yang Yanlang and Bai Yujing were never on good terms. This trip to the Suiyun Mountains was undertaken only by imperial command; otherwise, Yang would have refused outright. Boren did not press further. Bidding farewell, he headed toward Wangxian City.

Yang Yanlang strolled toward the city with Zhong Ming, the uncle and nephew chatting as they walked.

During Yang Yanlang’s absence, Bai Yujing had descended, the corpse tide had assaulted the city, frontier borders were redrawn, and many events had unfolded—all of which Zhong Ming detailed to him.

Yang Yanlang listened quietly, his brows furrowed deeply and never relaxing.

When he heard that Yutu had sealed Zhong Ming’s dantian, his anger flared explosively.

He cursed, “That dog immortal Yutu! Does he think that by becoming the Jinyue immortal of New Tang, he can act with impunity?”

Seeing Yang Yanlang’s fierce expression, Zhong Ming hurriedly explained that he had since lifted the seal on his dantian.

Yang Yanlang said nothing, turned, mounted his horse, gripping his silver dragon spear, and galloped toward the city.

His moves were fluid and swift, leaving Zhong Ming momentarily stunned as the snow-white steed vanished along the path.

Regaining his senses, Zhong Ming thought anxiously, “Not good!” and called to Sun Longhu, “Brother Hu, quickly follow my uncle! He’s going into the city looking for trouble!”

Looking for trouble?

Like Yang Yanlang, the returning Sun Longhu was unaware of the recent changes on the frontier. He hesitated briefly but still shouted to rally the cavalry to follow.

Zhong Ming snatched the reins from Liang Yu without time to explain, vaulted onto his horse, and pursued Yang Yanlang into the city.

...

Before the broken city walls, a white steed blurred into a phantom and dashed into the city.

The two city guards at the gate blinked in surprise—Yang Yanlang had already ridden inside.

The thin guard scratched his head and muttered, “Who just passed? Bold, daring to ride a horse through the city streets!”

“Foolish! Didn’t you see that scale armor? Must be Captain Yang, back from frontier patrol.”

The bearded guard sneered, “Don’t meddle. You dare question Captain Yang? You’re asking for trouble.”

The thin guard immediately shrank back, silent.

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Having just agreed to mind their own business, they then spotted a youth riding a black horse approaching.

The thin guard’s temper flared again; he drew his horizontal blade and was about to shout when he saw a hundred fine-scale cavalry trailing behind the youth, the thunderous hoofbeats echoing in the distance.

The thin guard hastily sheathed his blade, pressed against the wall in fear.

He recognized the rider as Zhong Ming and forced a smile, “Mr. Zhong, so urgent—where are you headed?”

Zhong Ming’s expression was anxious. Despite riding close behind Yang Yanlang, he had lost sight of him; the steed Snowfall was no ordinary horse and had long outpaced others.

He reined in slightly and asked, “Have you seen my uncle pass by?”

The thin guard pointed inside the gate, “Lord Yang just rode into the city.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

Pulling the reins, Zhong Ming urged his horse further into the city, but even after reaching the city center along South Street, there was no sign of Yang Yanlang. He then headed toward Bai Yujing’s mansion.

Before the mansion, Zhong Ming saw Snowfall standing by the street, nibbling on some wild grass near the wall.

Bai Yujing’s mansion was always guarded by disciples. Now, the two guards lay sprawled in pools of blood, their fate unknown.

It was clear Yang Yanlang had left them there and forcefully entered the mansion.

Zhong Ming’s brows tightened further. This meant Yang Yanlang was openly confronting Bai Yujing, escalating the conflict into a face-to-face showdown.

“Uncle is truly reckless!”

Clicking his tongue, Zhong Ming dismounted, heart racing with anxiety as he contemplated how to extricate himself safely.

He examined the two guards lying in the blood. One had a spear wound through his shoulder—clearly from Yang Yanlang—and the other had no visible wounds but a bruise on his neck. Fortunately, both were merely unconscious, not dead.

Sun Longhu and others arrived promptly, and Zhong Ming ordered, “Brother Hu, tend to their wounds; don’t let them die. I’ll go inside and see.”

“I’ll go with you!”

Sun Longhu drew his Tang sword, its blade shimmering faintly with a pale blue spirit energy.

Zhong Ming shook his head slightly, eyes deep with resolve, “No. We cannot completely sever ties with Bai Yujing. If you go in with me, it will only complicate matters…”

After some thought, Zhong Ming made a decision. “I’ll go in alone. If it gets dangerous, I’ll shout for you to come in.”

He truly hoped to avoid a violent escalation. If things reached that level, no one might leave the mansion alive.

Drawing a redwood folding knife from his pocket, Zhong Ming concealed it in his sleeve and stepped into Bai Yujing’s mansion.

Although vast, the mansion housed many disciples—over a hundred. Along the way, Zhong Ming saw many unconscious disciples, all wounded by Yang Yanlang.

He inwardly shuddered; Yang Yanlang’s power was formidable indeed, able to injure over a dozen Bai Yujing disciples single-handedly.

At the main gate, Zhong Ming finally saw Yang Yanlang.

A dozen disciples in elegant robes surrounded him, while the general’s face was stern, holding his silver dragon spear, standing firm with no one daring to challenge him.

Such a commotion had already roused Yutu.

In front of Yang Yanlang stood Yutu himself; on his left was the young immortal Boren Zhongming had seen earlier, and on his right was the elder immortal Zeng Li.

Yutu’s expression was icy and grim.

He said nothing, but Zeng Li stepped forward, conjuring a crystal ice sword in midair and pointing it at Yang Yanlang, shouting angrily, “Yang Yanlang, are you courting death? How dare you storm Bai Yujing’s mansion!”

Yang Yanlang sneered at Yutu, “I didn’t want to fight, but your disciple looks down on everyone and barred my entry. I had no choice but to break in!”

Zeng Li narrowed his eyes, the ice sword glowing faintly blue. “You are truly asking for death!”

Yutu, who had been silent, now spoke coldly, “Kill him.”

His words were as casual as a powerful overlord ordering the destruction of a mere ant—effortless to them.

At once, Zeng Li launched the ice sword, slicing through the air toward Yang Yanlang’s chest.

Yang Yanlang merely raised the hand holding his silver dragon spear slightly, then let it fall again.

He saw someone intervening and did not intend to block the attack head-on.

Smiling, Boren flashed forward, placing his finger on the ice sword. The sharp blade halted instantly, vibrating softly, unable to advance an inch.

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Boren, clearly playing peacemaker, addressed Yutu and Zeng Li, “General Yang is a fine officer of New Tang, known for his courage and wisdom. He would never break in without cause. Perhaps we should first hear his reasons.”

“Master Bo, this—”

Zeng Li hesitated, looking to Yutu for guidance, lacking authority himself.

Yutu’s expression remained unchanged. “Junior Uncle, that is against the rules. Those who offend Bai Yujing must be punished.”

Boren laughed heartily, smiling at Yutu, “Yutu, we’ve all traversed three realms of the mortal world. Why so rigid? Rules must be followed, but they should also adapt to circumstances.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Yutu finally relented, “Today, I will listen to Junior Uncle.”

With that, the fight was averted for now. Yang Yanlang loosened his grip on the spear, confident that his break-in was to demand justice, not to fight to the death.

Zeng Li’s crystal sword melted into fragments. Yang Yanlang planted his silver dragon spear on the ground, and the two exchanged glances—like Zhang Fei unwilling to yield to Zhuge Liang.

Seeing both parties willing to discuss, Boren breathed easier.

He stepped forward, cupped his hands, and asked Yang Yanlang, “General, what has caused your great anger?”

Yang Yanlang, showing respect, explained his reasons coldly.

After hearing about Yutu sealing Zhong Ming’s dantian, Boren suddenly understood the source of Yang’s fury. It was because of his nephew—the brotherly bond among New Tang’s Three Divine Generals was well known.

Boren clicked his tongue softly, “Yutu, it seems you were in the wrong. General Yang’s intrusion is justified!”

Yutu snorted coldly, refusing to reason with mortals.

Boren then asked Yang Yanlang, “General, since this is our fault, how do you wish to resolve it?”

Yang Yanlang had no clear answer. His fury had driven him to confront the matter, but he hadn’t expected peaceful talks. He hesitated, unable to articulate a solution.

Boren noticed Zhong Ming standing near the gate and smiled, “General, your nephew is here. Why not hear his opinion?”

“Good idea.”

Nodding, Yang Yanlang’s anger subsided considerably, though he regretted his rashness.

Zhong Ming saw Boren beckon him over and hurried beside Yang Yanlang. After greeting the immortals, he said, “Honorable immortals, while the sealing of my dantian by Lord Jinyue was justified, my uncle’s break-in was improper. I suggest we let this matter drop.”

Seeking to minimize conflict, Zhong Ming was wise to avoid further escalation.

They were clearly weaker than Bai Yujing; continuing the dispute might cost them both their lives.

Why risk their lives out of pride? Zhong Ming was smart and understood the balance of gains and losses.

Though Yang Yanlang was somewhat displeased, he remained silent; Yutu frowned but concealed his thoughts; Boren was delighted to hear such reasonable words and laughed, “Good, I agree with Zhong Ming’s prudent approach.”

Stepping forward, Boren continued, “I will now lift the ice seal on your dantian. Consider this matter closed; we serve New Tang together…”

Fixing his gaze on Zhong Ming, Boren’s smile faltered slightly as he asked, “Your dantian is dense and brimming with spirit energy. The ice seal is already lifted?”

Yutu was also stunned, angrily demanding, “Impossible! I personally cast the seal. With your weak energy foundation, how could you break it?”

Suddenly, Zhong Ming grew nervous. He had confided in Feng Ning about unsealing his dantian but could not reveal this here, lest Feng Ning be implicated—it would be unfair.

Yutu’s astonishment deepened as he demanded, “How did you break it?”

Zhong Ming had prepared an answer and calmly lied, “Following previous internal energy cultivation methods, I tried many times and only recently succeeded in unsealing my dantian.”

Yutu’s expression shifted repeatedly, frowning, “That makes no sense...”

Yang Yanlang knew the truth but would never expose Zhong Ming; instead, he smiled at Yutu.

Boren laughed heartily, “Yutu, you’ve misjudged this time. If Zhong Ming truly broke your seal, he is a once-in-a-millennium cultivation prodigy.”

At this, not only did Yutu’s face contort oddly, but all Bai Yujing members stared at Zhong Ming in astonishment, some even envious.

To be called a prodigy unmatched in a millennium by Boren—how great was this young man’s talent?

They might as well say his gift rivaled the likes of the Moon Palace Lady or Lord Yu.

Sensing their gazes, Zhong Ming realized a serious problem—his lie was spiraling, each cover-up leading to another.