Chapter 475
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Chapter 475: Flashback, Backstory, Jumbled Timeline
Mid-January. Heavy snow blanketed the northern region.
In a secluded corner of the magical land, a field stretched wide. Amidst the fields, every household had a warm stove. Inside a courtyard house, elders sat atop heated stoves, roasting their hands over the warmth. In front of them, the stove simmered with a pot of red date soup.
“In winter, we layer three blankets of wheat to warm the bed. Next year, we’ll sleep with steamed buns as pillows… What did I say? This snow came just in time.”
“These years haven’t been peaceful, but the weather has been kind. The heavy snow came when we needed it most.”
The old man squinted at the simmering soup, steam curling up like threads of memory. “With a good harvest, this snow will freeze the pests’ eggs and block the roads, keeping those old turtles from advancing.”
He took a sip, flinching slightly. “Too hot. Fetch me some snow to cool it down.”
“Snow isn’t clean,” the middle-aged man protested. “If your stomach’s not well, don’t eat ice.”
“Did I say I wanted to eat it?” The old man rolled his eyes. When the snow arrived, he placed the bowl upon it and waited for it to cool. “See?”
“I see.”
“The heavy snow quiets things down… Just one Tiger Guard Captain gone, and everyone’s acting like they lost a grandson,” Yuan Tianjian remarked, his tone sharp.
“But he was handpicked by Lord Qiongqi.”
“And by me. Without my approval, he wouldn’t have made a single move.” Yuan Tianjian’s gaze hardened. “The captain’s death is inconsequential. It shouldn’t fuel chaos but serve as a lesson for those ignorant officials obsessed with war. How often has the Ministry of Revenue carried coffins to remind them of their folly? Yet they remain blind.”
“Ximen Liu fell in Longyao City,” the middle-aged man interjected. “You and I both know what this means. The Liu State has always been trouble, and Wang Ran’s strategy, though ruthless, is too effective—almost cruel.”
“The Qi State is already broken, holding on stubbornly. But I won’t support a path of reckless ruthlessness. If Bai Ze City isn’t taken within the next fortnight, let it go.”
The middle-aged man shot to his feet, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Are we to waste five years of effort?”
The old man reached for his bowl. “Effort wasted? Look closer. Within the Xiangliu family, internal strife runs rampant. Even Wang Ran avoids meddling in inheritance disputes. His impatience will be his downfall. ‘Poisonous strategy’ may sound clever, but even his own allies fear him.”
The old man continued, his voice steady, “History teaches us this: what unites will divide, and what divides will unite. Dynasties rise and fall, but survival favors those who endure. Strength is fleeting; stability is paramount. Reorganizing our foundation isn’t stagnation—it’s wisdom.”
The middle-aged man hesitated. “What about Ba Xia?”
Yuan Tianjian’s tone turned calm. “You’re really asking about Bi Fang, aren’t you?”
Caught, the man clenched his fists.
“Ba Xia is a mere prize to be reaped. Even its lord knows it. Ambition clouds judgment.”
In a forge tucked away by a little bridge, an old blacksmith swung his hammer tirelessly. Sparks danced as he shaped the blade. A child ran up, delivering a letter with reckless enthusiasm.
“Uncle Iron! A letter for you!”
The blacksmith caught the letter before it could touch the fire. He read it, his stoic expression faltering. Tossing the letter into the flames, he retrieved a heavy sword from a hidden box—a blade forged from relics of a past long buried.
In Yanwei City, a quiet massacre unfolded. Prestigious clans, centuries old, were wiped out in a single night.
A shadowed figure moved through the alleys, vanishing into the mountains. Birds scattered as a ferocious black dragon clawed at the cliffs, chasing a phantom prey.
By the docks, two workers
fished a body from the water—
a young woman. One sought to
save her; the other betrayed
him, selling her into captivity.
Bound in chains, she awoke in
a carriage among slaves.
Anger boiled within her amber
eyes, memories tangled and
incomplete. Pain wracked her
body, but her fury refused to
be silenced.
Chains shattered. Flames
consumed her captors. She
fled, wounded and disoriented,
collapsing by a pool of
crimson water. In her
reflection, a pair of golden
eyes stared back,
commanding and cruel.
“Do you want to live?” a voice
asked, cutting through her
confusion.
Yubing awoke, drenched in
sweat.
Pushing open the door, she
stepped into the courtyard to
clear her mind. A cold,
unmoving figure sat in the
shadows.
She leaned against the
puppet’s knee, its chill
soothing her. Whispering to
herself, she tried to dispel the
nightmare.
“It’s just a dream,” she
murmured. “Don’t be afraid.”
