newbobooks Chapter 492 The Marquis of Zhenxi releases the King of Langya and gives him parting words before his
Chapter 492 The Marquis of Zhenxi releases the King of Langya and gives him parting words before his
With 200,000 troops on the expedition, now including Ye Xiaoying's remnants in Fuzhou and Lei Mengsha's troops in Hanzhong, the number is probably less than 40,000.
How should I explain this to my elder brother, the Emperor?
How can we explain this to the families, wives, and daughters of these soldiers?
Totally hopeless.
Just then, the Windbreaker Army's offensive suddenly slowed down.
The army formation parted, and Baili Luochen rode slowly forward on horseback.
Blood splattered all over the old marquis's armor, but his iron spear remained as steady as a rock. He gazed at Xiao Ruofeng, who was heavily surrounded, with a complex expression.
“King of Langya,” Baili Luochen spoke, his voice not loud, but clear enough to pierce through the battlefield, “Although you and I are mortal enemies on our respective sides, in my eyes, you and Dongjun are both children.”
He paused, then continued, "You've already exhausted all your resources in this battle; there's no need to waste any more lives. I'll give you a way out—gather your remaining troops and return to Tianqi City."
Xiao Ruofeng's hand holding the sword trembled.
Baili Luochen looked at him, his tone unusually gentle: "Tell your brother, who has become emperor, that the old man will one day bring his army to Tianqi. You are a good person at heart. If you can return to the capital unscathed this time, you might as well retire from the martial world. Perhaps... you can still save your life."
This was said subtly, but the meaning was clear.
Baili Luochen knew who Xiao Ruojin was, and Xiao Ruofeng knew even better.
Having achieved great merit and held immense military power, he has now suffered a crushing defeat—what awaits Xiao Ruofeng upon his return to Tianqi?
Xiao Ruofeng smiled bitterly.
How could he not know?
But can he back out?
Behind him, a hundred or so guards stood, and around him, thousands of remaining soldiers watched him. Further away lay the souls of hundreds of thousands of Northern soldiers who had perished on the battlefield.
He slowly raised the Haoque Sword.
The sword reflected the sunlight, reflecting off his blood-stained face.
"I appreciate your kindness, Lord Marquis." His voice was hoarse, but still calm. "But if I, Xiao Ruofeng, were to live a life of dishonor today, how would I face these brothers who died in battle in the afterlife?"
Baili Luochen frowned: "Why are you doing this to yourself..."
Before he could finish speaking, Xiao Ruofeng had already made his move.
It wasn't a breakout, it wasn't a battle.
He turned his sword around, pointing the tip at his own throat.
"Your Highness, you mustn't!!!" Xiao Ping had just returned from the right flank when he saw this and his eyes widened in fury. He rushed forward to snatch the sword.
But it's too late.
The blade of the Haoque sword was already pressed against the skin of his neck.
Ice cold.
Xiao Ruofeng closed his eyes, looked up at the sky, and sighed:
“I lost. I was defeated by the Marquis of Zhenxi… I, Xiao Ruofeng, am not disgraced.”
He opened his eyes and looked around at the Northern Li soldiers who were covered in blood but still stood tall, his eyes red-rimmed:
"It's such a pity... the brave soldiers of Dali who went to war with me!!!"
As soon as he finished speaking, the sword was unleashed—
"clang--!!!"
A clang of metal rang out, making Xiao Ruofeng's hand go numb!
An arrow pierced the air and struck the Haoque Sword with pinpoint accuracy! The powerful force of the arrow deflected the sword's edge three inches!
Xiao Ruofeng turned his head in astonishment. "Clang—!!!"
The resounding clang of metal echoed across the battlefield.
Xiao Ruofeng's hand went numb. The Haoque Sword was knocked back three inches by the arrow that came flying through the air. The blade grazed the skin on the side of his neck, leaving a shallow bloodstain.
He turned his head in surprise.
All that could be seen was Baili Luochen sitting upright on his horse, his longbow still in his hand, the bowstring still vibrating.
The old marquis's eyes held a complex expression, containing both undeniable authority and a hint of unspeakable pity.
"A true man stands between heaven and earth; how can he so rashly commit suicide before the three armies?! Where is the heroic spirit inherited from your Xiao family ancestors?"
Baili Luochen's voice was loud and clear, "Prince of Langya, you are no match for this old man. It is only because you are too young. Your defeat today is not due to a lack of skill. Go back to Tianqi!"
He paused, his tone softening, "I'm not going to make things difficult for you because of your friendship with Dongjun. But before I leave, I have something to say to you—"
"If you want to live a life far from the court, you must leave the high halls of power! You're a smart kid, I don't need to spell it out for you... Go now, and if fate allows, I hope we won't end up fighting each other!"
These words filled Xiao Ruofeng with a myriad of emotions.
He stared blankly at Baili Luochen, the legend he had looked up to in his youth, the elder who should have been his uncle, who had driven him to the brink of despair on the battlefield, yet at the last moment gave him a way out!
A complex mix of emotions surged within him—the shame of defeat, the disorientation of escaping a desperate situation, and even a trace of gratitude that he himself was unwilling to admit.
Xiao Ruofeng slowly lowered his hand, the blood-stained tip of the Haoque sword touching the ground.
He bent down and picked up the bloodstained longsword. The sunlight reflected off the blade, as did his blood-stained face.
After a long silence, Xiao Ruofeng straightened up and solemnly cupped his hands towards Baili Luochen: "Ruofeng...thanks to the Marquis for sparing my life."
His voice was hoarse, yet it carried an unprecedented solemnity: "If I ever have the chance to roam the world, I will bring a pot of the finest wine to entertain you, my lord."
"Farewell!"
After saying that, he turned around and faced the remaining Northern Li soldiers.
The setting sun, like blood, dyed the battlefield a poignant crimson.
Amidst the corpses strewn across the field, fewer than four thousand Northern Li soldiers remained standing. Each of them was wounded, their armor tattered, their faces etched with exhaustion and despair, yet they still gripped their weapons tightly.
Xiao Ruofeng's gaze swept over familiar and unfamiliar faces—there were his personal guards who had followed him for many years, the imperial guards who had come all the way south from Tianqi, and the soldiers from various prefectures and counties...
Many of them may never return to their hometowns and see their parents, wives, and children again.
Xiao Ruofeng suddenly knelt on one knee and slammed his right fist heavily onto his chest armor, making a dull thud.
This action stunned everyone!
“I, Xiao Ruofeng, am no match for your skills and was defeated by the Marquis of Zhenxi, causing many brothers to die on the battlefield—” He raised his head, his eyes red-rimmed, his voice choked but clear, “This crime, I, Xiao Ruofeng, will bear alone after we return to the capital!”
"Your Highness!" Xiao Ping and the others exclaimed, and all tried to kneel down.
"Stand still, all of you!" Xiao Ruofeng shouted sternly. "Listen to my command—gather the remaining troops and supplies, and immediately evacuate from Juzhou territory!"
He stood up and glanced at the soldiers: "Those who can still walk, help the wounded. Give the warhorses to the seriously wounded, and everyone... stick close to me!"
There were no grand pronouncements, only the simplest commands.
But it was these few words that rekindled the last vestiges of spirit in the previously lifeless remnants of the Northern Li army.
Baili Luochen watched quietly from a distance.
The Breaking Wind Army had cleared a path, and the remnants of the Northern Li army began to move slowly. The scene was both tragic and heroic—
Some people limped along, using a broken gun as a crutch;
Some carried their unconscious comrades on their backs, gritting their teeth and moving forward;
Someone had lost an arm, hastily bandaged with strips of cloth, the empty sleeve fluttering in the wind.
Some of the younger recruits would take a few steps and then turn back to look at the battlefield, at the bodies of their comrades who would forever remain on the southwestern land. Tears mixed with blood streamed down their faces, but they bit their lips tightly to keep themselves from crying out loud!
Some people looked at Baili Luochen in the Broken Wind Army formation, their eyes filled with complex emotions—hatred, resentment, but mostly a sense of bewilderment after surviving a catastrophe.
An old soldier, nearing fifty, helped a young soldier with a broken leg and whispered, "Son, remember today. It was the Marquis of Zhenxi who gave us a way to live."
“But so many of our brothers have died…” the young man’s voice trembled.
"There are always deaths in war," the old soldier sighed. "If you want to hate, hate this world! The Marquis... he could have spared us."
Similar whispers rang out sporadically in the ranks.
Some were filled with gratitude, some were seething with anger and plotting revenge, while many others simply walked along numbly, their minds blank, wanting only to leave this hellish place as quickly as possible.
Xiao Ruofeng walked at the front of the group, without riding a horse.
He leaned on the Haoque sword in one hand, step by step, traversing the blood-stained earth. His white robes were already soaked in blood, clinging tightly to his body, and each step aggravated his wounds, but his back remained ramrod straight.
The setting sun cast a long shadow of him, lonely and stubborn.
At this moment, he was no longer the renowned Prince of Langya, nor the Great General who commanded an army of 200,000.
He was just a defeated general, leading four thousand remnants of his army toward an unknown future.
……