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Chapter 647
The imperial road south from Qingyang cut like a scar across the dry hills.Ten thousand soldiers marched in two tight columns, banners snapping in the wind, armor glinting under the hard morning sun. Dust rose in a long brown haze behind them.At the head of the left column rode General Han Feng, sixty years old and built like a fortress wall. Iron-gray hair, scarred jaw, eyes that had seen every kind of death.Behind him rode five thousand men—most of them Mount Tai sect disciples in plain black armor, their qi coiled tight and ready. They moved like one beast. Undefeated in living memory.Half a mile to the right, on the narrower ridge road, General Ling Xue led her own five thousand. She sat straight in the saddle, raven hair braided tight beneath her helmet, dark armor hugging a body that turned heads even in war.The Puyang Blade Clan crest gleamed on her shoulder. Her soldiers were sharper, richer, their blades oiled and deadly. They had grown up in the noble houses of the capi
Chapter 646
Zhao Liang’s mouth went dry. A cold fist closed around his stomach.If he rode back to Liu Dai without those five thousand soldiers, the governor would have his head on a pike before noon. No excuses. No mercy. Liu Dai didn’t forgive failure.One choice remained.Qingshui was only an hour or two to the south. Perhaps his men had pressed on without him. Perhaps they were already fighting in the streets, buying him precious time. He could still salvage something—anything.Better than walking back to die.So General Zhao Liang, commander of five thousand, did the unthinkable.He walked.Alone.On foot.Full battle armor clanking with every miserable step, sword slapping his thigh, helmet tucked under one arm like some disgraced foot soldier.Sweat carved tracks down his dust-caked face. Shame burned hotter than the rising sun. A general without an army. A general without a horse.He kept his jaw locked and his eyes fixed on the southern hills, telling himself the same lie with every stri
Chapter 645
Far to the north, in the smoke-choked ruins of Qingyang City, Governor Liu Dai stood on the steps of the captured fortress and watched the flames devour the last of Qiao Mao’s banners.Liu Dai’s chest swelled with raw satisfaction. He had waited years for this moment.“Qiao Mao… this is what you get for ignoring my orders. I spoke to you with courtesy, but you chose to spit in my face. Now, I’ll burn you and every last member of your family.”“Open the granaries,” he ordered, voice booming across the courtyard. “Distribute the grain. Feast tonight. Then send columns to every city still loyal to that fool. Take everything of value—gold, weapons, women, horses. Let them remember what it costs to refuse Liu Dai.”His soldiers roared their approval. Smoke stung the air, thick with the scent of charred wood and victory.Liu Dai allowed himself a slow smile as the first barrels of wine were rolled out and the looting parties galloped away.The next morning he sat in the mansion that had onc
Chapter 644
The night deepened over Qingshui. Lanterns swayed on their hooks, throwing restless shadows across the streets. Rebels roared as they plunged deeper, smashing open chests. Gold spilled between greedy fingers. Silk tore under eager hands.Citizens crowded the doorways, clapping and cheering the looters on. “More!” they shouted. “Take more!”Yet hundreds of drones had already slipped from the black sky—silent as breath.Tasers lanced downward. Ordinary men dropped where they stood.Bodies folded. Faces struck the flagstones with soft, final thuds.The demonic sect disciples’ heads snapped up the instant the drones drew near. They felt the faint stir of wind across their scalps, the whisper of displaced air brushing their skin.One disciple twisted sharply. His palm flashed open and a small knife flew.It struck the nearest drone mid-descent. Metal screamed. Sparks sprayed in a bright arc. The machine spun wildly out of control and crashed into a stall, collapsing in a tangle of broken w
Chapter 643
The officers moved through Qingshui at noon. They carried thick rolls of paper. Hammers rang against posts and walls.Proclamations unfurled in bold black ink across every gate, every market square, every information board.One officer climbed the steps of the central plaza. He unrolled the last sheet.“By order of City Lord Bai. Being poor is now a sin. All poor, all homeless, all in the slum districts—report at once. You will serve rehabilitation time in Wudang’s special realm. Reform your poor mindset. Failure brings harsher punishment.”Citizens gathered in small knots near the central square. They kept their voices low.No one spoke at first. Then whispers rose—sharp, quick, disbelieving.A stout merchant leaned close to his neighbor. “If being poor is a sin,” he said, “don’t you think City Lord Bai will soon declare that being ugly is a sin too? And then all the plain-faced among us will vanish into the mountain by morning.”His companion pressed a finger to his lips, face twist
Chapter 642
One month had passed since the first waves of bandits poured into Qingshui like flies to rotting meat, and the city had changed into something no one in the Jianghu could have imagined.Every street gleamed like an open vault. Tables sagged under bolts of finest silk, chests of gold coins left carelessly unlocked, jade carvings tossed out like yesterday’s trash.Housewives polished their best silver until it blinded the sun and set it out on the main avenue as if it were nothing.Merchants paraded their rarest treasures and simply walked away whistling, leaving their stalls unguarded. Even the old widow, once known only for her pickled vegetables, now laid out delicate heirloom teapots and glittering family jewelry beside her jars. She sat on a low stool with a serene, grandmotherly smile.No one bothered hiding their wealth anymore. They flaunted it openly, each trying to outdo the other with the most irresistible bait. Every so often, a passerby would casually drop a heavy pouch of
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