Upon returning to the camp, Chen Chuan immediately summoned Wen Mingzhong, who had accompanied the army here, and handed him the scroll.
After examining it, Wen Mingzhong cautiously indicated that the esoteric rituals depicted on the diagrams were not fabricated. However, whether they matched the actual layout within Youdu would have to be verified when the time came.
Chen Chuan was of the same mind. When it came to war between two nations, one could take advantage of certain intelligence, but one could never trust it unreservedly; everything had to be confirmed independently.
After resting for the night, they pressed forward according to the original battle plan.
They began rooting out the outer strongholds and esoteric rituals one by one. This time, Chen Chuan and the other Dongxuan View martial artists were not acting alone; their role was that of the main strike force meant to secure ultimate victory.
The frontline engagements of this sort were instead entrusted to the Longevity View martial artists, the ordinary martial artists who had accompanied them, and a substantial number of active conscious entities.
Supported by airships, artillery, and implant-equipped troops brought up from the rear, these forces formed formidable combat groups that continuously shattered the enemy's front lines.
A full day passed. Having achieved their designated objectives, the troops halted of their own accord, utilizing the captured fortresses at their staging grounds to erect fortifications and deploy esoteric rituals against potential night raids.
Their posture was clearly one of steady, methodical advance.
Yet this was precisely what the former imperial house dreaded most. It demonstrated that Great Shun was in no rush whatsoever; advancing at this pace, they would reach the very foot of Youdu's walls in less than four days.
When night fell, the former dynasty dispatched a raiding force composed of a handful of Xuanji martial artists and over a hundred airships.
However, aside from leaving behind a field of wreckage and the corpses of the participating Xuanji martial artists, the attempt accomplished nothing at all.
The next day, Great Shun's offensive resumed.
Come nightfall, the former dynasty predictably organized another sortie to stage a disruptive raid.
They knew full well it would be futile and that those sent out were merely marching to their deaths, yet they had no choice.
They had to do it to steady the morale of the populace, showing everyone across Youdu that they were still fighting rather than abandoning resistance.
Great Shun was only too glad to see this. It was essentially bleeding Youdu dry, steadily eroding their defensive strength and paving the way for the final assault on the capital.
Under the oppressive weight of this looming threat, more and more members of Youdu's upper echelons came to believe the capital could not be held. Within Anye Palace, voices had already begun calling for the imperial house to "hunt in the north."
***
Within Shaohua Palace.
Prince Qiong, Yuan Conglai, sat in a courtyard where frost clung to the branches. His face was etched with worry, and his hair had greyed noticeably.
Several days ago, he had sought an audience at the imperial palace to offer counsel, but his petitions had all been rejected. In the end, Emperor Wenguang had seemingly lost patience and ordered him confined to his quarters, forbidden to step outside without an imperial command. Thus, he could only remain sequestered in his palace, unable to go anywhere.
Gazing at the frozen pond outside, he let out a heavy sigh and said to the princely manor's aide before him, "General of Agile Cavalry Yuan was routed in a single engagement, and all the commanders accompanying him perished. Now the imperial court is empty, and the realm hangs by a thread. As a son and a subject, yet unable to ease my sovereign's burdens, I have failed the state, and I have failed my emperor."
The aide could not help but fall silent. He, too, had never anticipated that they would suffer such a crushing, total defeat this time.
Now Great Shun's forces were at the threshold, and the fall of the realm was close at hand.
The more Yuan Conglai spoke, the more anxious he became. He stood up and paced back and forth. "Imperial Father refused to adopt my counsel to summon Prince Yi to the capital. What, then, are we to do now?"
The aide remained relatively calm. He said, "Your Highness, at present there are only two courses of action. The first is to hold Youdu to the death, offer up sacrifices, and pray to the gods and fiends for aid. The pseudo-dynasty has concentrated massive military strength here this time, so the Mystic Ring is bound to be lightly defended. As long as we hold out long enough, we can play for time and await a turn of events. Only..."
"Only what?" Yuan Conglai asked urgently. "To my mind, though it may not be the finest strategy, it is at least feasible, is it not?"
The aide sighed. "The pseudo-dynasty's national strength is ten times our own. Since they have resolved to strike us, they will certainly have come prepared. Moreover, their commander this time is Grand General Xuanji Chen Chuan. That man's martial might is overpowering; our court likely has no one capable of standing against him. Though Youdu's defenses are formidable, if this man launches an all-out assault, there is truly no telling how many days we can hold out..."
Hearing this, Yuan Conglai struck a pillar with his fist in bitter frustration. "How could the state have fallen to such a pass!" Then, turning sharply, he pressed, "And the second course? Speak of the second course!"
"The second is..."
The aide hesitated, words catching in his throat.
Yuan Conglai pressed, "Is what?"
The aide sighed. "There is only to hunt in the north."
Yuan Conglai's eyes widened. "Hunt in the north?" he demanded in anger. "Is that not simply abandoning the realm and fleeing?"
Whenever an imperial house of past dynasties had resorted to that, they ultimately vanished without a trace, never again possessing any hope of restoration. If they were to walk this path now, it would mean relinquishing the ancestral patrimony and becoming wanderers of a fallen empire...
The aide sighed. "Between preserving the imperial house and preserving the state, one must choose. From the rumors circulating in the court, I fear His Majesty has already made his choice, and is merely letting word leak out to test the reactions of his ministers."
"No! Never! Absolutely not!!"
Yuan Conglai shook his head repeatedly. Such an outcome was completely unacceptable to him.
Yet right at that moment, the flapping of wings suddenly echoed outside. Soon, a creature with a human head and a bird's body, clad in multicolored garments, appeared above the courtyard. Circling overhead, it cried out, "By imperial order, I deliver His Majesty's sacred decree! Prince Qiong, step forward at once!"
Recognizing one of the Feizhe Imperial Guards serving by the emperor's side, Yuan Conglai hurried outside, bowed low with clasped hands, and said, "Your servant and son reverently listens."
The Feizhe guard hovered above his head and released the folded missive held in its talons. Yuan Conglai hastily reached out and caught it.
"His Majesty commands: let Prince Qiong execute this task with diligence, and permit no errors, lest he face royal wrath."
Yuan Conglai responded respectfully, "Yes. Your son receives the decree."
The Feizhe guard departed as swiftly as it had arrived, beating its wings and taking to the air the moment he finished speaking.
Yuan Conglai returned to the courtyard and unfolded the missive. At once, he looked utterly despondent. With immense bitterness, he said, "It is just as you foresaw, Zikang."
He passed it over. The aide took it and read through it, only to discover that it ordered Yuan Conglai to scout the old trail at Mount Panquan to ascertain its safety.
"Are we truly to hunt in the north?"
The aide frowned. The emperor had not issued a formal imperial edict. Although one could understand wanting to avoid alarming the court, if word leaked out, or if this were framed as being petitioned by Prince Qiong to appease the fury of the war faction, the prince could very well be pushed forward to take the blame and face punishment.
Yet if they did not go...
After a moment's consideration, casting etiquette aside, he stepped forward, took Yuan Conglai by the hand, and said, "Your Highness, our palace lacks sufficient warm clothing and provisions, and we have few carriages or horses for travel. We could delay for a few days before..."
Hearing this, Yuan Conglai suddenly came to his senses and nodded repeatedly. He had no wish for an imperial flight to the north in the first place, so stalling as long as possible was best.
Besides, they truly faced difficulties: the manor possessed no carriages or horses fit for a long journey; their two aged horses would collapse from exhaustion before even clearing the city gates. Furthermore, it was freezing cold outside. He was no martial artist, and his constitution had always been frail; he would likely fall gravely ill before traveling very far.
Yet barely an hour later, another envoy arrived, delivering all the equipment, carriages, and horses needed for the princely manor's long journey. The envoy urged them not to tarry and to set out at once, adding that a contingent of elite scouts had already been assigned to them, waiting at the North Road Pass.
At the same time, a squad of Feizhe Guards was assigned to oversee and watch over them. Now Yuan Conglai could no longer demur. After some brief preparations, he had no choice but to depart. The two first took an underground passage leading beneath the city. After half a day's journey, night had already fallen by the time they emerged from an exit located before a sacrificial temple.
Upon reaching this spot, the aide suspected that there ought to be other tunnels leading straight to Mount Panquan, only they were not permitted to use them.
After all, this was precisely where the Ding Dynasty's grand army had encamped during its war against the Chang Dynasty. Had the tunnel exited here back then, the remnants of the Chang Dynasty would never have been able to escape.
Yet he said nothing of this now, merely scanning their surroundings with vigilance. After emerging from the passage, several scouts quickly dispersed to reconnoiter in all directions.
For now, Great Shun's army had not yet arrived here, but the encirclement of Youdu was already underway, with the main force advancing from the north. Outside the city in this direction, danger lurked everywhere.
Fortunately, their luck held—or perhaps their group was simply too small a target. They encountered no interception from Great Shun, and as dawn approached, they finally entered Mount Panquan.
The mountain was dense with trees, but a broken path could just barely be discerned. This was the site of the previous dynasty's imperial mausoleums; many fallen stone statues lay shattered across the ground.
Beholding these ruins, Yuan Conglai could not help but think of their state's current plight, and a wave of sorrowful melancholy washed over him.
Guided by their map, before long they located a deep tunnel sunken into the mountainside.
However, near the entrance lay piles of skeletal remains. They appeared to be no more than a few decades old; whether they had been craftsmen tasked with maintaining the passage was impossible to say.
Fortunately, portions of residual esoteric rituals carved in the past still lingered within the tunnel, preventing any Confluence creatures from nesting there.
The group descended along the stone steps. At first, the passage was exceedingly narrow, forcing them to turn sideways to advance; horses and carriages had to be abandoned outside. Yet the deeper they went, the wider the passage became. After walking for nearly half an hour, Prince Qiong began panting heavily, drenched in sweat.
Born with a limp and constitutionally frail, he struggled to keep pace with these vigorous soldiers.
The aide hastily offered, "Your Highness, let me carry you."
The scout captain glanced over. Now that they were here, the surveillance over the two seemed less stringent. Cupping his hands, he said, "Your Highness Prince Qiong, we shall scout ahead. Your Highness may follow behind at your own pace."
Yuan Conglai gently pushed the aide away. "Thank you, but there is no need. I shall walk on my own."
Seeing this, the scout captain pressed the matter no further.
Gritting his teeth, Yuan Conglai pressed on and did not fall behind for the rest of the way. Seeing this, the scouts could not help but feel a measure of respect for him.
After another half hour of walking, when Prince Qiong seemed on the verge of collapse, the scout captain spoke up: "There is conveyance ahead. Your Highness may rest for a moment."
Supporting Yuan Conglai, the aide looked up and was astonished to find a section of railway tracks ahead, upon which sat a remarkably well-maintained train. There was no telling when the line had been laid.
With a train available, there was no longer any need to travel on foot, and they could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
The aide helped Yuan Conglai aboard and seated him in one of the carriages. Before long, the algae oil train began to rumble slowly forward.
Exhausted by the strain of the past several days, Yuan Conglai soon fell into a deep sleep. He did not know how long they had been traveling when the carriage suddenly jolted violently, accompanied by terrified cries. Immediately afterward, he saw a burst of light flare ahead, and then he blacked out completely.
Chapter 1417