Chapter 90: The Fine-Scaled Dragon-Headed Army, Never Admit Defeat!

A young woman traveled through the Suiyun Mountains, braving the stars and moon, while in the city of Wangxian, an uncle and his nephew drank beneath the moonlight.

The Commandant’s Residence was filled with a heavy, somber busyness. The General-in-Chief had returned from inspecting the frontier; by rights, there should have been a grand banquet with fine wine and meat to host the soldiers of the Fine-Scaled Cavalry. However, after the battle at the White Jade Capital, no one could summon any joy.

The banquet was held nonetheless, as Yang Yanlang had ordered his servants to arrange it upon his return. Maids bustled about, setting dishes on the tables as the three great stoves in the kitchen roared to life. It was a substantial feast, yet it lacked any hint of celebration. Neither the maids nor the soldiers wore smiles; the men drank in silence, as if they had just suffered a crushing defeat. The servants, though unaware of what had transpired, sensed the grim mood of their masters and suppressed their own smiles, quietly and diligently performing their duties.

The soldiers huddled together, drinking in silence. No one spoke; they simply downed cup after cup. After a long while, a cavalryman leaned toward Sun Longhu and whispered, "Brother Tiger, I heard from Erzi that the Master’s Silver Dragon Spear was snapped by the Immortal Official of Pure Moon?"

Sun Longhu downed a cup of wine, his eyes tinged with bitterness. He did not answer, but let out a long sigh and nodded. The soldier’s eyes dimmed. He took a sip of wine and asked again, "Brother Tiger, the Master just ordered us not to patrol the city at will anymore. Does that mean our Fine-Scaled Dragon-Head Army is about to be disbanded?"

"Don't talk nonsense!" Sun Longhu barked, his brows knit in fury, scaring the soldier into bowing his head.

This shout only deepened the gloom among the men. They set down their bowls and chopsticks, heads lowered, occasionally glancing toward the backyard. Since Yang Yanlang had returned, he hadn't spoken a word to them, having taken Zhong Ming straight to the back of the residence. Usually, after returning from a great battle, Yang Yanlang would always drink a bowl with his men first—a ritual that never changed. Today’s disastrous defeat at the White Jade Capital had been a massive blow to him, and even this ironclad tradition had been discarded.

It wasn't just the soldiers who were anxious; even Sun Longhu felt a drum beating in his heart. As the deputy commander of the Fine-Scaled Cavalry, he could not behave like the common soldiers. He suppressed his doubts, telling himself that the Master had his reasons, and at such a critical moment, the Fine-Scaled Cavalry must remain the Master's backbone and not let their morale waver.

Having steadied his thoughts, Sun Longhu stood up with his wine dish and said, "Comrades, the General is unwell today. I shall drink with you on his behalf." With that, he downed the wine. The Green Bamboo Brew, usually sweet and clear, tasted bitter today.

The soldiers mustered a sliver of spirit and drank with him. Wiping his mouth, Sun Longhu looked around and continued, "I know everyone is afraid. Ever since the General returned from the White Jade Capital with a broken Silver Dragon Spear, you fear that our Fine-Scaled Dragon-Head Army will be suppressed until we are finally scattered."

This voiced the inner thoughts of the soldiers, who lowered their heads in grim silence.

"But do not forget, we are the Fine-Scaled Dragon-Head Army! We never retreat. Even in death, our spirits remain united. We have fought through countless battles and never admitted defeat. We must believe in ourselves, and even more so, we must believe in the Master. Remember when we were in Longxi? The Master led three thousand of us against fifty thousand enemy troops. We were besieged on a hillside for an entire night, and who was it that charged at the front with spear and horse, carving out a path for us to survive? From the uprising at Yecheng to Luoyang, then to Longxi and the Northern Barbarian lands, before finally returning to the Suiyun Mountains, our three thousand brothers have dwindled to a mere hundred. We have fought over a hundred battles with the Master; if we didn't perish then, the White Jade Capital cannot destroy us now!"

The bloody history of the Fine-Scaled Dragon-Head Army was brought to life once more, and many soldiers had tears in their eyes. Sun Longhu took a deep breath and continued, "When the Emperor listened to slanders and demoted the Master to the frontier, the Master refused titles and gold, asking only to keep our hundred-odd brothers to preserve the regiment. Can you not see his devotion to us?"

"Brother Tiger, say no more! If the Master gives the order, we will bring the heads of those dog officials from the White Jade Capital back with us!" an old soldier with a missing eye shouted, then wiped his tears with his sleeve.

Sun Longhu laughed through his tears, "Well said! The Master has done everything for us, and we must not let him down! Even without the title of the Three Divine Generals, the Master is still the Master. Even with a broken Silver Dragon Spear, the Master is still the Master. One day, he will lead us to reclaim all the humiliation the White Jade Capital has forced upon us!"

Refilling his dish, Sun Longhu raised it high to toast his men, drinking three cups in a row. Afterward, he began to sing at the top of his lungs: "Ten thousand hearts as one, we could shake Mount Tai!"

The soldiers joined in: "With loyalty and righteousness, our spirits pierce the stars! The Commander treats us like kin, better than our own fathers! ..."

The marching song of the Fine-Scaled Dragon-Head Army echoed throughout the city. It was not the song of a hundred men, but the roar of the souls of three thousand soldiers.

...

In the back garden of the Commandant’s Residence, the lotus leaves had spread wide, revealing flower buds. *A tiny tip of a lotus bud just emerged.*

Beneath the flowers and the moon, there was no romance of poets and beauties, only the melancholy of an uncle and his nephew. The garden was humble, as Yang Yanlang cared little for such things. He had not repaired it; he had even ordered the collapsed pavilion demolished to make room for martial practice posts.

Now, the two sat by a large rock near the rockery, sharing a single plate of fried peanuts and a jar of Green Bamboo Brew. Yang Yanlang spoke little, offering only the occasional "Drink." He drank cup after cup, having already finished two jars. His eyes were glazed with intoxication, though the General-in-Chief was usually a heavy drinker; if he hadn't wished to drown his sorrows, he would not have been so easily affected.

When the marching song began to echo, Yang Yanlang’s hand paused in mid-air. Zhong Ming listened intently. The thunderous song continued for a long while before finally fading. He sighed, "Uncle, the soldiers are filled with rage. Yutu going so far as to break your Silver Dragon Spear... that was too much."

"There is no 'too much.' His fist is harder, he makes the rules, and whatever he does is 'right.'" Yang Yanlang gave a bitter laugh and continued to drink.

Zhong Ming sighed, knowing that the breaking of the spear was a devastating blow to Yang Yanlang. It was as if his dantian had been sealed; such a sickness of the heart was harder to cure. He wondered when his uncle would ever recover.

After finishing another jar, Yang Yanlang shook his head, smiling bitterly, "Nephew, you were right to live in Wuni Village. Now that this frontier city has been renamed Wangxian City, it is no longer a place a minor commandant like me can influence. I can no longer guarantee your safety within these walls; you are better off outside."

"Perhaps," Zhong Ming murmured. His eyes were unfocused, his mind racing. It seemed Yutu now held absolute power in the city. Even with Yang Yanlang’s return, he could no longer offer protection. It appeared the days ahead would be difficult.

Yang Yanlang looked up at the moon. The sickle-shaped crescent seemed to slice through his grand ambitions. "Zhong Ming, after tonight, do not enter the city. This Wangxian City is a dragon’s den and a tiger’s lair... And do not go to those immortal mountains in the Suiyun range; they are the forbidden territory of the White Jade Capital. The White Jade Capital! My elder brother and I ultimately failed to hold our ground. The court in Luoyang is about to change as well..."

"I understand, Uncle. Please don't worry, I will take care of myself." Zhong Ming also looked up at the hook-like moon, thinking to himself that though the moon waxes and wanes, there would come a day when the White Jade Capital would no longer be able to cover the sky with one hand.