61. Night Assault on the Enemy Forces at Watchtower City

In the season when a hundred flowers rampage through the mortal world, news arrived from Liaodong: Crown Prince Fu Lancheng had led his soldiers to capture Watchtower City, avenging the death of the Prince of Liaodong’s son.

Watchtower City had always been poor and insignificant, but as a strategic outpost on the frontier, it was a new city developed by Great Yue over the past two decades, populated mostly by military households—every resident capable of taking up arms. This made it easy to defend and hard to conquer.

Although the Crown Prince’s victory there yielded little material gain, it greatly boosted the morale of the troops. The entire court and country rejoiced, the Emperor most of all. Yet Xu Guiyi found little reason for happiness, for soon the Emperor issued a new decree: My son, leading the nation’s elite, may advance directly to reclaim our ancestral lands—namely, Pingzhou, Yuzhou, and Yuner, the three cities.

The imperial edict inspired universal praise for the Emperor’s wisdom and ambition. The Empress, however, wore an expression of resignation. She swiftly packed her belongings and, accompanied by a handful of attendants, moved into the Imperial Awakening Temple on the outskirts of the city, preparing to pray day and night for the Crown Prince’s safety.

In the command tent at Watchtower City, Fu Lancheng at last had a brief respite after several busy days. News came that an old acquaintance named Zeng had arrived. Fu Lancheng could not at first recall which acquaintance this might be, but upon seeing the letter presented, he recognized it as one he had sent years ago and instructed that the visitor be received outside the tent.

The Zeng clan of Qingzhou was famed as a family of master swordsmen. Years before, during his travels in Liaodong, Fu Lancheng had stayed in Qingzhou over half a month, forging a friendship with the Zeng family’s young master. They were kindred spirits. Fu Lancheng, well-versed in martial arts, had once drawn dozens of saber designs for this young master. In return, Zeng had promised that if Fu Lancheng ever needed the Zeng family’s help, he would spare no effort.

Clutching the letter, Fu Lancheng stepped outside his tent to see a young man kneeling on the sand, his voice clear and resonant: “Commoner Zeng Shunqin pays his respects to Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”

Hearing the name and voice, memories surged within Fu Lancheng, and he hurried forward to help him up. “Brother Zeng, there’s no need for such formality. We met as equals on the road; let us keep to the ways of the jianghu today as well.”

The young man straightened. He was thin, silent, and pale—not the brawny type one might expect of a martial artist—but Fu Lancheng knew appearances could be deceiving with Zeng Shunqin.

Zeng Shunqin saluted. “Back then, I was ignorant of Your Highness’s true identity and failed to show proper respect. I owe you an apology today.”

Indeed, he had not known Fu Lancheng’s real status, taking him for a wealthy, wandering nobleman. Fu Lancheng explained again, but seeing Zeng’s insistence, let him be.

Recently, Fu Lancheng had dealt a major defeat to the Eastern Yue army outside Watchtower City. The Liaodong forces were jubilant, and to further raise morale, the Prince of Liaodong organized a grand military review. Fu Lancheng oversaw the review at Watchtower City’s parade ground, demonstrating the unity between court and army, and between the royal house and Liaodong.

With many townsfolk in attendance, some eager to sing the Crown Prince’s praises sketched his likeness. These images became widely circulated on the frontier, for the Crown Prince’s striking appearance and legendary reputation stirred much curiosity and discussion. That was how Zeng Shunqin learned of his old friend’s presence and came to offer his aid.

After Zeng’s account, several of Fu Lancheng’s close generals looked at their prince with unabashed admiration. Yet the Crown Prince himself felt only helplessness.

Fu Lancheng had quarters arranged for Zeng Shunqin and prepared to write a few letters back to the capital. After a fierce battle, the army needed rest and resupply.

He began with two memorials to the Emperor: the first detailed the recent campaign; the second requested additional provisions and pay for the troops. He had just finished and was about to write a letter home when a general reported that a patrol had discovered a camp of Eastern Yue’s surviving soldiers.

Fu Lancheng set down his still-wet brush and went to question Qu Zhe about the situation.

Entering Qu Zhe’s command tent, he saw Nangong Mingchen in silver armor—his white garments a stark contrast amid the chill. “Your Highness!” Nangong Mingchen saluted respectfully. Fu Lancheng nodded and asked Qu Zhe, “Did the deputy report the discovery of an Eastern Yue remnant camp?”

Qu Zhe answered without preamble, “Yes. Our scouts estimate about three thousand men.”

Fu Lancheng was about to ask their intentions regarding these remnants when Nangong Mingchen smiled coolly, “General Qu and I have just discussed a plan. We seek Your Highness’s decision.”

“A night raid?” Fu Lancheng was astonished. With tens of thousands facing only three thousand, why risk a night assault? He wanted an explanation.

Qu Zhe’s gaze was steady, clearly sharing Nangong Mingchen’s view. “Correct. Our scouts report that among the three thousand is a member of the Eastern Yue royal family. For reasons unknown, he did not retreat with the main force but remains in the camp, defending it. The Marquis’s suggestion is that we capture this royal alive to strengthen our bargaining position.”

Fu Lancheng found this hard to believe, his cold eyes narrowing. “How can you and the Marquis be sure this royal will allow himself to be taken? What if he’d rather die than be captured? Wouldn’t all our efforts be in vain?”

Qu Zhe hesitated, struggling to explain, and passed the question to the eloquent Nangong Mingchen. “My lord…”

Nangong Mingchen, fully prepared, smiled calmly. “That is precisely why we need Your Highness’s judgment.”

Fu Lancheng and Qu Zhe fixed their eyes on him, listening intently. After a lengthy discussion, a heavy silence fell over the tent.

Fu Lancheng finally spoke in a low voice, “I’ll trust you this time. At midnight, I shall personally lead the night raid…”

Qu Zhe was alarmed. “Your Highness, you mustn’t!” Such a dangerous mission was no place for the Emperor’s heir.

Nangong Mingchen quickly interjected, “Your Highness, let me lead the force instead.”

Qu Zhe was even more dismayed. The young Marquis of the Nangong family could hardly risk himself either.

Fu Lancheng replied coldly, “If you don’t let me go, I won’t cooperate with your plan. This is dangerous, but I must witness the outcome myself…”

Nangong Mingchen would not be left behind. “Then I will accompany Your Highness.”

Qu Zhe was speechless.

That night, Qu Zhe personally selected several battle-hardened deputy generals to join Fu Lancheng and Nangong Mingchen, adding five thousand elite cavalry, who assembled outside the tent. Torches crackled in the cold frontier wind as the five thousand rode quietly, keeping only a few lights to avoid alerting the enemy, moving forward in near darkness with only faint moonlight to guide them. To Fu Lancheng and Nangong Mingchen’s astonishment, the cavalry’s speed matched that of daylight marches.

With scouts having already pinpointed the enemy camp’s location, their advance was smooth. Before long, they reached the enemy encampment, where wisps of smoke rose—likely the soldiers, fearful of discovery by day, dared only to cook and eat at midnight.

Fu Lancheng and Nangong Mingchen exchanged glances; Nangong Mingchen nodded slightly. Fu Lancheng raised his hand in signal. The herald understood at once, drew his sword, and gave the order. The five thousand cavalry surged over the ridge; below, in the pit, lay the enemy camp—their grave this night.

Flames blazed, the clash of battle cries rang out, and the two sides were soon locked in fierce combat.

Before setting out, Qu Zhe had strictly instructed the deputy generals to watch over the Crown Prince and the Marquis, ensuring they never fell into danger. The deputies had all agreed earnestly. But once the battle began in earnest, chaos reigned. The men’s blood boiled as they fought with abandon, and no one had time to notice where the Crown Prince or Marquis were, much less if they were safe.

Only after the fighting subsided and the camp was mostly in their hands did the deputies begin to recall their true objective: capturing the Eastern Yue royal alive.

Deputy General Guan Yunlong bellowed, “Boys, catch that Eastern Yue prince alive, and I’ll see you well rewarded!”

The soldiers’ eyes blazed, knives at the ready. Another deputy, Chen Kun, galloped over, shouting, “Old Guan! The prince and young marquis are missing!”

Guan Yunlong was stunned, then leaped onto his horse, cursing. “What? I told you to keep an eye on them! Where are they?”

Chen Kun, distraught, replied, “You know I can’t stop once I draw my blade… Let’s hurry and find them. If anything happens to those two, we’ll never answer for it.”

Guan Yunlong cursed even more furiously, spun his horse, and began searching for the Crown Prince and Marquis.

The fire raged, thick with the scent of blood. Fu Lancheng raised his sword with a shout, feeling droplets of blood carried on the wind strike his hand. Looking up, he saw that Nangong Mingchen, passing by in a flash, had cut down an enemy soldier about to ambush him from behind.

With a swift horizontal slash, he severed the man’s throat. Fresh blood sprayed in all directions, the wind heavy with the scent of crimson.

Fu Lancheng could not help but look at Nangong Mingchen. A streak of blood had splashed across his pale cheek, winding down in a thin line, terrifying in the firelight.

Watching the ease with which his companion wielded his sword, the city-bred prince felt a chill in his heart. This beautiful, famously cunning son of the Nangong house—was, in truth, a seasoned killer.

“Your Highness, watch out!” a voice shouted from behind. Turning, Fu Lancheng saw an arrow flying toward him. He had no time to react before a flash of blade cut the arrow in two—Zeng Shunqin had blocked it for him.

Nangong Mingchen approached as well, a trace of mockery in his voice. “Your Highness, this is hardly the time to be distracted.”

Fu Lancheng was about to retort when a group of deputy generals rode up.

“Your Highness! You’re safe—thank heavens!” Guan Yunlong rushed forward, catching Fu Lancheng in a rough embrace, momentarily forgetting all decorum.

Chen Kun, slightly calmer, added, “It’s a relief that both Your Highness and the young marquis are unharmed.” He pulled Guan Yunlong back and held him behind.

Fu Lancheng took it in stride, but Nangong Mingchen’s delicate face was wreathed in smiles. Zeng Shunqin, as ever, was silent and unobtrusive—only when he acted to save lives did people recall the presence of this masterful swordsman.

“Have you captured the Eastern Yue royal?” Fu Lancheng pressed, his concern undiminished.