Wang Chong had "strong-armed" Qin Han and Fang Jingru into coming with him, and was just about to go meet the brothers of the Chrysanthemum-Killing Alliance first—these were all diehard "Prince of Yan faction" men, and he simply had to get them firmly in hand first—when he heard hurried footsteps. A big, imposing man came striding up, and the moment he saw Wang Chong he dropped to his knees in a bow and cried, "Tongzhou Sima Qin Gao pays his respects to His Highness the Prince of Yan."
Qin Han looked utterly embarrassed and said in a low voice, "This is my cousin. He now commands the troops of Tongzhou—a sixth-rank military post."
Qin Gao said, his face full of zeal, "This humble general received the military report long ago and learned that His Highness the Prince of Yan crushed the Yaglakar clan's elite cavalry outside Pengshan County. My admiration for you knows no bounds, and from this day on, whatever commands Your Highness may have, this humble general will not disobey a single one."
Wang Chong was inwardly astonished. *I only revealed who I am a moment ago—barely the time it takes to burn half a stick of incense—and this man already has word of it. His eyes and ears in Tongzhou are remarkably well informed.*
*The first genuine "comes-to-pledge-himself" Prince of Yan faction man I've ever met. I mustn't take him lightly.*
He had no idea why Qin Gao was so enthusiastic, but since the man was coming forward so eagerly on his own, how could he fail to treat a man of worth with proper courtesy? His face beaming with delight, he hurried to help Qin Gao up, then took a large cloak from Qin Han's shoulders and draped it over Qin Gao with his own hands. He would have liked to strip off his own clothes as well, but he had been hunted the whole way here, and the clothes on him were already filthy beyond recognition, so he could only make do.
Qin Gao not only did not mind, he seemed even more delighted. "For Your Highness to favor me so greatly," he said excitedly, "this humble general will gladly lay down his life to repay your grace."
Wang Chong shot a glance at Qin Han and saw that this brother of the Chrysanthemum-Killing Alliance looked embarrassed too. He found it very strange, but did not think it proper to ask, and steadied Qin Gao instead. "Let's go drink together," he said. Qin Gao happily fell in behind him.
Wang Chong soon realized that there were far too many brothers in the Chrysanthemum-Killing Alliance.
He had no idea how the original few dozen people had suddenly swollen into the hundreds, but his reactions were quick. At once he had word sent to the fourteen most famous taverns in Tongzhou Prefecture: today he, the Prince of Yan, would foot the bill for all of them and host a banquet for the brothers of the Chrysanthemum-Killing Alliance.
That day, throughout the city of Tongzhou Prefecture, there were people drinking to their hearts' content everywhere, and every one of them boasted of being a brother of His Highness the Prince of Yan.
Wen Zhengxi sat gloomily in the Prefectural Office, his heart choked with frustration. He too now knew that the Prince of Yan was Wang Chong, and Wang Chong was the Prince of Yan. He was deeply worried about his younger cousin Wen Zhiwei, yet he clung to one thought: *Zhengchun has been close to me and Zhiwei since he was small. He would never dare harm Zhiwei. Perhaps Zhiwei let something slip in front of Zhengchun and is too embarrassed to come home.*
*Our Chrysanthemum-Killing plan is flawless, without a single seam. We've even worked the eighteen grassland tribes into the calculation—there can be no mishap. Once he's back, I'll give him a proper scolding, and he won't dare talk back.*
*Mmm, a long night brings many dreams. Better not wait for him to return—hurry and notify the men of the eighteen grassland tribes. Have them gather their masters and enter the city, to complete the final step of the Chrysanthemum-Killing plan.*
*Only... how could he have changed so much?*
The more Wen Zhengxi thought, the more agitated his heart became, so he simply gave up thinking about it. He refused to believe that in so short a time the younger cousin he had raised with his own hands could have been so utterly remade—some mistake must have been made somewhere. Yet he was also certain that once the masters of the eighteen grassland tribes stormed into the city, no matter where the error lay, there would be nothing left to fear, because Wen Zhengchun would certainly die.
Wang Chong brought out every bit of worldly tact he had honed in the workplace of his previous life, doing his utmost to win over everyone who could be won over.
At the tavern where he sat, brothers of the Chrysanthemum-Killing Alliance came and went without end, dozens upon dozens of them coming to pay their respects—and more than half of them he did not recognize at all.
As evening drew on, even Wang Chong, for all his profound internal energy, had drunk enough to feel his head swimming.
Suddenly a fierce, piercing whistle rose from outside the city, and at once several long cries answered it in echo. Then from all four directions, masters beyond counting raised their voices in a great shout: "Don't let the Prince of Yan escape!"
Wang Chong's heart lurched with alarm, and his mind cleared a little. He urgently channeled his Innate Pure Yang Art and forced the wine fumes out of his body. In an instant he judged that the whistling cries from the slightly eastern direction were the weakest, and at once he shouted at the top of his voice: "A pack of mere steppe barbarians—every last one of them a foe I've already beaten! The likes of Nalihai and Wen Ducheng I killed with a single move. Yaglakar Yehu, Lichiluo of the Afugan clan, the Bone Demon, Princess Bilge—vermin the lot, all fled at the mere sight of me. Even the steppe's iron cavalry I shattered head-on! Follow me out of the city to destroy the enemy—all the merit, my brothers, is yours to take freely; I, Wen, will not claim a shred."
A rousing pep talk certainly can't cure every ill, but it truly can set a man's blood running hot.
Had Wang Chong shown weakness before the battle and asked the others to protect him, most of them would very likely have scattered in a rout—after all, in the current dynasty even Shangdu and Luoyang had once been breached, and the two emperors Qin and Hou had even been carried off by the combined armies of the eighteen grassland tribes. The people held a deep dread of the martial might of those fierce troops from beyond the frontier.
Even if he had commanded with perfect composure and deployed his men methodically, it would not have helped much. But he first trumpeted his own war record, and these exploits—thanks to the publicity of the Chrysanthemum-Killing Alliance and the Qinghe Gang—had long been known to all; then he declared once more that "all the merit, you brothers take freely," a reputation praised on every tongue. The brothers of the Chrysanthemum-Killing Alliance believed it without exception, and the officials of Tongzhou's sixteen prefectures were one and all won over. And with the added feat of utterly routing two thousand Yaglakar cavalry outside Pengshan County, everyone save a handful of astute men firmly believed that His Highness the Prince of Yan was a war god reborn—attacking, he must prevail; fighting, he must win; never once defeated.
At a single command from Wang Chong, the martial artists of Tongzhou Prefecture all turned east, threw open the city gates, and poured out in a flood.
Wang Chong knew full well that if he could not quickly crush the enemy to the east, then once the enemies from the other three fronts closed their encirclement, his only way to live would be to abandon everyone and flee—leaving his name in ruins—while every other path led only to death. So he roused his spirits and charged out alone at the very front. He did not even know who had led the horse over for him. In his hand was the cavalry spear Qin Han had presented to him with such care and reverence—a full eighteen feet long, and sharp beyond compare.
When he saw several dozen steppe warriors, each a distinct figure and every one plainly a master, flying toward him with lightness skill, he made himself one with his horse and crashed into their midst.
Achile was the twenty-sixth of the Thirty-Six Divine Generals jointly acclaimed by the eighteen grassland tribes, and the temporary leader of the coalition of steppe masters on this front as well. The other three fronts all had roads leading straight to Chang'an; only his front could lead nowhere but out beyond the frontier, so it had been given the fewest men. Achile had been quite unhappy about it—it was only that he truly could not win the contest against the others.
When Achile saw Wang Chong, he could scarcely believe his own eyes. Overjoyed, he cried, "It's actually the Wen family's little thief—he's come to this side to throw his life away!"
The cavalry spear conjured a thousand layers of spear-shadows, and in a single clash he ran Achile through. Wang Chong did not even realize that he had killed the temporary leader of this front's coalition of steppe masters.
Among the several hundred Central Plains warriors following behind Wang Chong, some had recognized Achile for who he was, and a few had even felt a flicker of dread—after all, the Thirty-Six Divine Generals acclaimed by the eighteen grassland tribes were each and every one notorious for their ferocity, and their martial arts were formidable. But now, watching such a great master run through by a single thrust of their "Prince of Yan's" cavalry spear, as easily as skewering a live toad, everyone's confidence surged a hundredfold.
The rest of the steppe masters were just about to close in, but how could this band of Central Plains warriors be willing to yield ground now? Drawing on their several-fold numbers, they swarmed around the steppe fighters instead—several men, or even a dozen or more, ganging up on a single one. The scene turned utterly savage.
Chapter 76