"That was before," Hong Chenglüe said bluntly. "Ever since He Chunhua took office as Chief Administrator of Xiazhou, he's been driving grain shipments to the front lines without stopping, and it looks like he'll be able to keep securing and sending more. If Zhao Pan doesn't run short on food, how do you plan to fight him, Lord Nian?"
Nian Zanli suppressed a flash of anger and put on a welcoming smile. "Then what brilliant plan does General Hong have?"
If Wu Qing hadn't sent word that Hong Chenglüe possessed an ingenious method to defeat the enemy, would he have put up with this kind of insolence? Son of a bitch.
Of course, there was another subtle reason—one both men knew in their hearts, but neither could mention aloud:
Hong Chenglüe was a bona fide general of the Beijia Kingdom, laden with distinguished service, whereas Nian Zanli was merely a turncoat commander who had submitted recently.
Was there any question about who ought to show more deference to whom?
Hong Chenglüe glanced outside the tent at the torrential downpour. "Raid in rain, never in snow. Foul weather like this actually sets the best rhythm for an assault." The sound of the rain and the darkness of the night could mask every preparation against the enemy.
Nian Zanli waited for him to continue. No rational commander would force a river crossing in weather like this; doing so would risk provoking a mutiny.
Sure enough, Hong Chenglüe asked next, "What if I can get your army across the river and onto the far bank, Lord Nian?"
Here it comes. Nian Zanli's expression turned solemn. "Please, go on."
"Twelve years ago, a disciple of Beijia's National Preceptor Qingyang fled with stolen treasures. He was an enemy spy who had infiltrated our ranks, though fortunately, he was apprehended soon after. But several of the treasures he stole were never recovered. The most important of them was the replica of the Cloud-Water Precious Flask enshrined in the Azure Palace, also known as the Verdant Flask."
Beijia had four palaces—Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter—each housing a National Preceptor who enjoyed transcendent status and privileges. The other three palaces sounded dignified enough, but placing the character for "Spring" directly before "Palace" sounded unseemly, carrying lascivious undertones, so it was replaced with "Azure." The master of the Azure Palace was none other than National Preceptor Qingyang.
"A replica?" Nian Zanli asked with curiosity. "Then what of the original?"
"The original was held by ancient immortals. After so much time, it was probably destroyed long ago," Hong Chenglüe said. "The true Cloud-Water Precious Flask could gather the waters of three rivers and five lakes. Legend has it that an immortal once used it to resolve a severe drought across an entire province.
"The replica preserved in the Azure Palace was crafted in the late ancient era, when heaven and earth were far richer in spiritual energy than today, yet immortals were dwindling and nearing extinction. This replica was created purely by accident. It can swallow only half a river's worth of water—far inferior to the genuine article—meaning the spiritual energy it consumes is also far less. Only through painstaking efforts by later generations was it preserved to this day."
Nian Zanli's eyes flickered. Hong Chenglüe wouldn't bring up such a treasure without a reason. Which meant...?
Sure enough, in the very next breath, Hong Chenglüe drew a soft cloth bundle from his robes and unwrapped it right before Nian Zanli.
Inside lay a gray flask. Its material was hard to identify as jade or stone; perhaps it was better described as a gray stone vessel, with a rounded belly, a narrow neck, and a wide mouth.
It seemed entirely out of place alongside a poetic name like the Cloud-Water Precious Flask.
The stopper at the mouth was carved in the shape of a gecko, its tail draped over the vessel's body and its forelimbs hugging the rim tight to seal it, though its head and snout bore horns.
Four characters were carved onto the body:
*Nourish Mountains, Enrich Plains.*
Nian Zanli was overjoyed. "Many thanks, General Hong! If we bring down Zhao Pan, the primary credit belongs to you!"
"No need. I'm merely lending you a flask."
Nian Zanli picked up the flask with great care to examine it, asking as he did, "Wasn't this treasure lost?" How had it ended up in Hong Chenglüe's hands?
"After resigning from my post, I passed through Xiling Town. The neighboring county happened to be where National Preceptor Qingyang's disciple was caught. I brought my wife into town for a meal, and unexpectedly spotted the Verdant Flask on a shelf behind the door of a sundry shop." Hong Chenglüe shook his head. "It was caked in dust and webbed with spiders, looking entirely inconspicuous. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes back in the Azure Palace, I would have missed it too. In the end, I bought it for fifteen copper coins. The shopkeeper looked at me like I was the biggest sucker in the world."
Nian Zanli marveled. "To think that no one recognized such a supreme treasure!"
"A divine vessel isn't something anyone can wield at any time. Holding it in your hands right now, Lord Nian, do you feel even a trace of magical fluctuations?"
Nian Zanli shook his head.
Held in his grip, the thing felt no different from an ordinary piece of stone or jade.
"Try channeling a wisp of origin power into it."
Nian Zanli complied. The moment a sliver of origin power seeped in, the gecko atop the flask stretched its limbs and opened its mouth.
When it opened its mouth, the flask was unsealed.
Hong Chenglüe reached out, picked up a teacup, and poured a bit of water into the vessel.
The flask instantly shed its drab gray stony exterior, revealing mutton-fat white jade beneath. "It reacts to spiritual energy as well, but all the spiritual energy you and I possess combined wouldn't be enough to wake it."
Nian Zanli withdrew his origin power, and within three breaths, the flask reverted to its original appearance.
"How is this precious flask used if it's to swallow half a river's water?"
"Only two types of power can drive this treasure at full capacity," Hong Chenglüe said solemnly. "Either an ocean of spiritual energy, or an ocean of origin power."
Otherwise, during his impoverished years in northern Yuan, he would have sold it off for silver long ago.
Once he resigned his commission, he no longer had origin power and could not make the flask transform; it had looked like nothing more than a worthless, shoddy craft.
As for spiritual energy—ha, who in the entire world still possessed an "ocean" of spiritual energy?
"A word of caution beforehand: this treasure was originally meant to be driven only by a National Preceptor. Given our ranks and stations, we fall short of its demands. To get it working, Lord Nian, you must mobilize your army's origin power and funnel every drop of it inside." Hong Chenglüe had already thought this through. "Even so, how long the Verdant Flask can swallow river water depends entirely on how long the origin power fed to it can last. The Han River is currently swollen by floods, carrying several times its normal volume."
The Han River was in full flood, its discharge an astounding figure.
Nian Zanli showed no sign of backing down. As commander-in-chief, even outside of combat, he had countless troubles to manage in the army every day; when you already have too many lice, one more bite hardly matters.
"In your estimation, General Hong, if my army uses this flask, how long can we appease the Han River?" If the army was halfway across and the flask suddenly gave out, allowing the raging torrent to crash down, their offensive would turn into a colossal farce—one that Zhao Pan on the opposite bank would mock for years to come.
"Your troops appear well-disciplined and strict in order, Lord Nian. You must command their deep loyalty." Hong Chenglüe had led armies himself; certain things could be seen at a single glance.
"They are all veteran subordinates I've led for over a decade." Nian Zanli had guarded the frontier for years, sharing weal and woe with his men. "Thanks to their trust, leading them has always put my mind at ease."
"Do you have fifty thousand men here?"
"Forty-six thousand."
"In that case, the origin power drawn from this army should at least hold out for... over fifteen minutes?" Hong Chenglüe couldn't give an exact figure. "You and I both know the essence of a magic artifact is using mortal strength to contend against heaven and earth. Faced with a flood of this scale, I cannot offer any guarantees for how long your army can sustain it."
Remarkable as the Verdant Flask was, it remained a conduit—a medium allowing the Xunzhou army to pit its origin power against the raging waters.
How long they could hold did not depend on the Verdant Flask, but on the strength, morale, conviction, and resolve of Nian Zanli's force.
"Only fifteen minutes? That's cutting it far too thin." Nian Zanli pondered. "Moreover, this assault offers no turning back. The Verdant Flask probably can't be used twice in rapid succession, can it?"
"Pour the water out, and it can swallow again," Hong Chenglüe pointed out. "The crucial issue is that by then, you will have no origin power left to supply it. Furthermore, because it will continuously drain every scrap of the army's origin power during the crossing, every soldier will feel heavy, dejected, and dispirited—some might even want to throw down their weapons."
In other words, this surprise attack across the river had to succeed on the first strike; there would be no retreat. And because the Verdant Flask would have exhausted all their origin power, the Xunzhou troops would have no protective aura once ashore.
If Zhao Pan launched a swift counterattack...
Nian Zanli sank into deep thought, then tapped the table lightly. "It's not out of the question. Cutting off their retreat is the only way to give them the courage to press forward without looking back."
Advance and risk death, or retreat and face certain death—only then would an army fight tooth and nail for survival.
Otherwise, a force whose morale had plummeted into the negative might scatter at the first sign of an escape route.
The application of origin power was truly a lethal art for any commanding general.
"Still, fifteen minutes is far from enough."
Hong Chenglüe had anticipated this problem long ago. He produced a maple leaf and passed it over. "This is an edict talisman bestowed upon me by National Preceptor Shuangye. If you intend to use the Verdant Flask, General Nian, you might as well petition National Preceptor Shuangye to temporarily allocate additional origin power."
Looking closely, it was not an ordinary maple leaf, but a talisman crafted from gold foil. According to Hong Chenglüe, all one had to do was write on it, stamp it with a bloody handprint, and burn it; the words upon the talisman would be transmitted to National Preceptor Shuangye in real time.
A single-use communication tool.
Nian Zanli was elated.
The sheer vastness of the Beijia Kingdom's origin power was beyond even his imagination. He now commanded an army under Beijia's banner; if National Preceptor Shuangye could spare a portion of origin power for him, why would his army need to worry about crossing before time ran out?
"However, I must warn you, General Nian. The Verdant Flask hasn't been used in a very long time. It is not an even-tempered treasure; at times it can be willful, and using it will take a heavy toll on your personal vitality and spirit."
"It's an ancient treasure—that much is to be expected." Victory always came at a price. "It won't drain my vital essence or lifespan, will it?"
Some wicked treasures were notoriously vicious to appease, and Nian Zanli had no desire to walk into such a trap.
"No, it will not." Hong Chenglüe rose to his feet. "Whether to use it or not is something you can consider at leisure, Lord Nian. If you decide to make your move, you might want to pick a day when the wind is at your back."
Nian Zanli felt thoroughly relieved. Clapping his hands, he summoned attendants to escort Hong Chenglüe to a clean tent to rest.
***
Over the next three days, the rain grew heavier by the day.
Even for northern Xiazhou, the volume and duration of this torrential downpour were extraordinary, a tempest seen once in a century.
When He Lingchuan woke, he found the sky still pitch-black; this sleep had lasted barely two hours.
Perhaps it was because the rock wolf beside him was grinding its teeth on a cattle bone? The sharp clatter could not be drowned out even by the thunderous rain.
Yet despite the brief sleep, He Lingchuan had defeated two challengers in the Panlong dreamscape and successfully defended his ring.
Though the Martial Review Hall had granted him forty days of recuperation, he entered the dreamscape in peak condition every single time. He naturally had no need for such time off, stepping straight onto the stage to fight.
Skinny had been right: anyone who dared challenge a ringmaster possessed formidable skills. The last opponent He Lingchuan faced was exceptionally nimble, moving with a speed that was almost impossible to pin down.
Chapter 297