"The beacon tower must be guarded strictly!" After turning it over in his mind, the garrison commander went looking for mystics to install an energy barrier.
Dragon Throat Post had its own talisman arrays for defense, though they were left dormant during normal times. There were several mystics permanently stationed in the army, so shouldn't this task be simple enough for them?
However, paying for a barrier over the beacon tower was not something the commander had time to report up the chain of command. Even if he did report it, approval would never come quickly—it would take at least ten days to a half-month—so he had no choice but to dig into his own pockets to hold the line for the time being.
The second night passed in utter peace.
Yet every single minute that barrier remained open consumed energy. No matter how economically the mystics designed the defensive ward, keeping it active for ten shichen a day burned through at least half a profound crystal.
That meant a whole profound crystal every two days!
His posting to Dragon Throat Post deep in the mountains was proof enough that he lacked both wealth and connections. Who didn't know that guarding a mountain pass was grueling work with meager pay? After keeping this up for two days, he simply could not afford it anymore.
He had also appealed to his superiors for aid, only for his immediate supervisor to give him a severe dressing-down. Profound crystals were such precious strategic resources—did he expect to squander them against an invisible threat?
Most importantly, there was no end in sight to guarding this way. Did he plan to keep the ward active for a day or two, ten days to a half-month, or a year or two?
Throwing thousands upon thousands of silver taels into a bottomless pit without even making a splash would get an officer into deep trouble. If his supervisor dared approve it, his supervisor's supervisor might suspect him of lining his own pockets.
And so, the barrier could no longer be sustained.
On the third night, the beacon tower ignited once again. This time, three hearths were lit.
Yet all was quiet on the western front; the mountain forests remained completely serene.
Looking up, he saw the beacons of Dragon Spine Pass promptly flare to life in response. The garrison commander's vision went black, and he nearly howled toward the heavens in despair.
*Brothers on the high tower over there, couldn't you wait for just a moment?!*
This time, however, the soldiers guarding the beacon tower finally caught the true culprit:
The mountain's wild monkeys.
These monkeys would steal torches from the camp or carry tree branches to catch fire from the campfires, then toss them into the beacon hearths.
The commander was utterly furious. "This is outrageous! How could monkeys light the beacons for no reason at all?!"
The soldiers stood speechless, none daring to utter a word.
Only in the dead of night did a trusted subordinate quietly confide in the commander. The mountains were crawling with wild monkeys, and a few days ago some had crept into camp to steal dry rations, only for several to be burned to death by the soldiers, who then carved up and ate their meat. It was very likely that the monkey troupe harbored a grudge and acted out of spite.
How could this be tolerated? The commander immediately dispatched men up the mountain to capture the monkeys.
Yet the vast mountains were the monkeys' home turf. How could cumbersome soldiers ever match their agility in the trees? Straining with every ounce of strength, they managed to capture only three or four. In the end, the troupe grew even more enraged, hurling stones directly down into the checkpoint and encampment, leaving several guards with bloodied faces.
Worst of all, the capital had endured yet another night of false alarms. Consumed by rage, the Crown Prince replaced the garrison commander without a second word.
***
That same night, in Panlong City.
Skinny was just about to leave his house when the clanging of gongs suddenly echoed outside, followed by someone shouting at the top of their lungs, "Street-corner announcement! Street-corner announcement!"
Panlong City's wide-scale pre-war mobilization rallies had finally begun.
Crowds gathered in droves, listening intently as the announcer used a gravelly voice to declaim the proclamation.
First, the valiant and righteous sovereign of the Xiluo Kingdom had issued a resettlement decree commanding the citizens on the Panlong Wasteland to return east to their ancestral homeland immediately.
Second, the Jinxi Corridor was held by the Baling people; its terrain was rugged and perilous, ill-suited for common folk to traverse. Panlong City had resolved to carve an alternative route back to Xiluo via Nantong Pass, Hebi, and the Chang River.
Third, Panlong City declared all-out war against the Xiji Kingdom:
*Xiji has harassed our frontiers, slaughtered our people, and intercepted our merchant caravans—crimes that can no longer be endured.*
*Now, whosoever blocks our path home shall die!*
When the herald chanted the proclamation for the first time, it sparked an immediate uproar.
Even through closed doors, Skinny could hear the sound of people running outside, cries of astonishment, and the creak of neighboring doors being flung open.
"We're going to war with Xiji! We're fighting Xiji!" Countless voices erupted in cheer.
The noise surged in waves, rising higher and higher.
In his memory, no street-corner announcement had ever provoked such an overwhelming response.
By the time the herald recited it for the sixth time, the street outside was packed with a jostling sea of heads. More and more residents chanted along with him until their voices unified into a soaring, thunderous cry that pierced the clouds:
"Whosoever blocks our path home shall die!"
With that, the fervor of the masses reached a boiling point.
Standing in his doorway, Skinny gazed out over the dense throng. His young nephew stood beside him, clutching small fists tight and piping up in a childish voice, "Whosoever blocks our path home shall die!"
Skinny chuckled and rapped the boy on the forehead. "Life and death? What the hell do you know about that?"
The boy tilted his head, his eyes shining brightly. "Of course I know! We're going to fight a war, and then we get to go home!"
Skinny drew a deep breath.
"That's right! We're going to smash Xiji flat and trample a road home right over them!"
Like all those cheering around him, his heart was brimming with longing and heroic resolve.
Just as the Broken Saber squad had predicted, there was no need for elaborate mobilization or morale-boosting speeches. A single public proclamation was enough to send the martial fervor of the entire city's soldiers and civilians soaring to its zenith.
If someone were gazing upon Panlong City from afar at this moment, they would notice the faint, colossal silhouette of a dragon hovering above the city walls. It looked like a trick of light and shadow, or perhaps drifting clouds, but in truth it was the tangible manifestation of peak dynastic fortune and origin power.
Only now did the name "Panlong"—the Coiling Dragon—truly live up to its meaning.
***
With his predecessor's fate hanging in the balance, the newly appointed commander of Dragon Throat Pass was walking on eggshells. He first inspected the beacon tower, then looked up at the monkeys perching on the mountain peaks and making faces at him, before resolving to use poison.
They hid poison in food and threw it to the monkeys, successfully poisoning over a dozen to death.
Yet the remaining monkeys grew even more furious. Troops of monkeys from neighboring peaks even converged to join them, perching on high to piss down at the men and pelt them with stones. They took turns making rackets in the dead of night to disrupt the soldiers' sleep, and repeatedly tried their old trick of hurling burning branches into the beacon tower.
Fortunately, the sentries remained on high alert, preventing the monkeys from succeeding again.
Even so, everyone's nerves were stretched to the breaking point; sleepless nights led to sluggish days. Disregarding casualties, the monkeys held the upper hand in this war between men and beasts. After all, a thief only needed to find one opportunity, but the guard had to be vigilant every single day.
Moreover, the Crown Prince had explicitly declared that if the beacons were falsely ignited again, every officer and soldier at the pass would lose their head.
Superiors only knew how to bark orders, flapping their lips about what was forbidden and what was mandatory. Those beneath them had to deliver results no matter how impossible the task, for the high-ups cared only for the outcome.
What else could he do?
Pushed to the brink of desperation, the commander made a decision that would curse posterity—
He would cap the beacon tower!
His method was straightforward: he procured large swathes of tarpaulin from passing merchants, stitched them together, spread the cover over the beacon hearths, coated it with a layer of plaster, and topped it with a thick dusting of sand and soil.
They had tested it on level ground first, and the commander had personally thrown several burning torches onto it.
Excellent. It would not burn.
It bought them plenty of time to calmly extinguish any stray flames.
Best of all, it was cheap—a hundred times cheaper than maintaining a magical barrier.
According to protocol, this was strictly forbidden, but with the threat of execution hanging over their heads, who had the leisure to care about standard regulations?
This was what they called: threats come from above, countermeasures come from below.
In any case, he had to get past the high-ups first.
And so, the massive canvas cap was placed over the beacon tower.
Just then, an inspecting envoy dispatched from the royal palace arrived unexpectedly. Seeing what they had done, he was incandescent with rage. "Preposterous! Dismantle this at once!"
The commander pleaded with him to stay and observe for half the night.
Sure enough, in the middle of the night, the monkeys arrived in packs to set fires.
When the burning branches landed on the sand-covered cap, the flames sputtered and died without catching.
The monkeys shrieked in frustration while the soldiers below roared with laughter, finally feeling vindicated.
"If enemies approach from beyond the pass, we will have plenty of time to remove the cover," the commander pleaded with the palace envoy. "Otherwise, if we take it down now and the beacons flare up again, our heads will roll."
The palace envoy nodded repeatedly. "You make a very good point. Now take it down."
"Eunuch, please!"
"His Majesty commanded our humble self to oversee the beacon tower, and our humble self must ensure everything here conforms to standard!" The envoy scoffed. "With this cover blocking the beacon hearths, do you dare call this normal? If our humble self lets you off the hook today, our humble self will be implicated when His Majesty lays blame tomorrow. Enough nonsense—dismantle it immediately!"
No matter how much the commander pleaded, he had no choice but to order the sand-laden cover taken down, cursing that damned eunuch a hundred times over in his heart.
No one noticed that high on the mountain peak, a figure hidden in the darkness took in the entire scene before tossing a generous handful of dates to the monkeys scurrying toward him.
The dates were large and sweet, and the monkeys feasted with delighted grins.
This man was the temporary new member of He Lingchuan's squad, Old Yu. Gesticulating with his hands and making soft grunting sounds, he was actually able to converse with the monkeys.
Even if the guards below heard anything, they would have assumed it was merely the chattering of the troupe.
Two more days passed.
Dragon Throat Post remained quiet. Having suffered setbacks, the monkeys seemed to have abandoned their attempts. His inspection concluded, the palace envoy hurried back to the royal palace to report.
The moment he left, the commander of Dragon Throat Pass breathed a sigh of relief and promptly barked to his men, "Cover the beacon hearths!"
"Commander?" Didn't the palace envoy forbid it?
"His mission is over and he gets to return to the palace, but we still have to stand guard here. If another mishap occurs, it has nothing to do with him, but we are the ones who will lose our heads," the commander sneered. "If it were you, what would you choose?"
Thus, everyone worked together to cover the beacon hearths once more. Everyone knew that the new king's coronation ceremony was set for the day after tomorrow, and at such a crucial juncture, nothing could be allowed to go wrong.
***
At the south gate of Panlong City.
Massive ranks of troops were assembling, with countless torches illuminating the grounds as bright as day.
Zhong Shengguang stepped forward, drawing his sword toward the heavens with a ringing chime before launching into an impassioned, stirring speech.
Without question, Zhong Shengguang possessed far greater charisma and rallying power than General Nan Ke.
His address was interrupted several times by thunderous cheers from below the stage.
The atmosphere was electric. Listening from below, the men felt their blood boil, itching to charge out and slay eight hundred foes on the spot.
"Spiritual rain, descend!"
A gentle drizzle began to patter down from the sky.
Sun Fuping had once demonstrated a similar technique when rallying the Blackwater City troops to march into the desert, but that rain had covered nowhere near this breadth.
More than thirty thousand Panlong City soldiers marching on this expedition were blessed by the downpour of spiritual rain. Each felt their body lighten, their strength surge, their breathing turn smooth, and their fighting spirit blaze even higher.
This was General Red drawing upon Panlong City's origin power to bestow her favor equally upon every warrior.
"Half a month from now, you will feast on whole roast sheep and drink Fengquan wine in the capital of Xiji to celebrate our great victory!" Zhong Shengguang's voice rang across the entire square. "Now, move out!"
Fengquan wine was a specialty of Xiji, commanding a steep price when imported to Panlong City, and was not something everyone could afford.
With a unified roar, the soldiers turned in unison and marched toward the city gates.
The watching civilians erupted into continuous cheers, showering the departing warriors with fresh flowers.
Chapter 427