The Demon Lords

Chapter 506 21 Noodles_1

An hour had passed.

Zheng Fan, about to give the order, suddenly confronted a problem—a crucial and potentially fatal one. Lord Jingnan had meticulously arranged everything, but could there have been some misjudgment when it came to Zheng Fan's own assignment? For instance, the task of a direct assault on the Royal Palace of the Jin State had been given to him because of his track record leading two military raids on Mianzhou city. The glaring issue, however, was that Liang Cheng had actually commanded the troops on both of those occasions.

At this realization, Zheng Fan's hand began to tremble slightly. Anyone who rises through cheating or shortcuts might appear competent on ordinary days, but they inevitably panic when real trouble strikes. Taking a deep breath, he told himself: Don't panic over anything. If all else fails, just lower your head, raise your knife, and scream "Ula!" That's it. Because now, there really was no other choice.

"Charge the Royal Palace of the Jin State!"

Zheng Fan spurred his warhorse, and the three hundred knights of the Jingnan Army followed closely behind him, like a sharp blade plunging straight into the heart of the Jin capital city, already consumed by utter chaos.

During the return journey, Situ Jianguo had taken his several thousand elite Situ Family cavalry away. Firstly, there was no longer a need to keep them there; secondly, the capital city was land the Cheng State had designated as the Yu Family's self-retained land, making it inconvenient for him to station his army there. This directly led to the current vulnerability of the capital city.

The defeated soldiers who had been rounded up earlier had returned to their camp to drown their sorrows in alcohol and vent their frustrations. While these men still possessed some courage on the battlefield, and Yu Huacheng's ability to train troops was decent, the fundamental problem was that their morale and mental state couldn't be transformed overnight. For men who had so recently suffered defeat, drinking and visiting brothels were the easiest ways to numb themselves once they had any leisure time. Consequently, nearly half the soldiers in the camp on the school grounds had dispersed. The remaining half, though present in the camp, were preoccupied with drinking or gambling.

The situation with the capital's loyal army was even worse. After their return, apart from a thousand cavalry patrolling the periphery and Yu Huacheng personally leading another thousand armored soldiers into the Royal Palace, the rest of the troops had all gone home.

Originally, the number of Jin soldiers in the capital city, just as it had been when they were outside the fort during the day, was several times greater than the five thousand Yan Army soldiers, even after excluding the Situ Family's troops. Yet now, in a stark contrast of organized forces, the Yan people held an absolute advantage.

Ultimately, this wasn't because Yu Huacheng lacked skill. His appointment as commander of the capital's loyal army wasn't solely due to his intimate bond with Emperor Jin; he also possessed considerable capabilities. The real reason, however, was that the capital city was too small. It was less a state within a state and more akin to a barbarian tribe's Royal Court. Yet, even a declining Royal Court maintained some influence over the desert and still possessed its own vast pastures, whereas the Jin capital city was merely a "city-state." Perhaps, after surrendering to the Cheng State, the capital city, as a frontier against Yan, could become a new "Beifeng Prefecture" with Cheng State's support in the future, but not yet.

The Yan Army cavalry, divided into numerous units, attacked their respective targets, setting fires and killing. In an instant, they created a terrifying momentum, comparable to tens of thousands of iron cavalry thundering across the land.

Under these circumstances, the Jin Army simply disintegrated; collapse was inevitable, as they had lost all semblance of organization after returning from the expedition. With the enemy at their very doorstep, how could they possibly go door-to-door to rouse soldiers and form ranks? How could they summon those drunken soldiers from the camp on the school grounds to face the enemy? Or venture into red-light districts to drag those soldiers off the prostitutes? Even if they succeeded in pulling them away, would those men even have the strength to lift a blade?

Zheng Fan's unit focused solely on advancing towards the Jin Royal Palace, undertaking no other tasks. Due to their deliberate one-hour delay, the chaos in the capital city was already rampant when Zheng Fan entered. This was proof enough that Lord Jingnan had a firm grasp of the situation in this region; five thousand horsemen were indeed sufficient to flatten the place.

This, truly, was the art of war.

On the east side of the Jin State's Royal Palace, there was a street. A hundred years ago, and for an untold time before that, this place had been incredibly bustling and lively. Ministers attending the early court would wait for the palace gates to open. High-ranking officials, mindful of their image, would dispatch servants to buy breakfast, which they ate in their sedan chairs. Low-ranking officials, who stood at the rear during court sessions, had fewer concerns and would sit down openly in the shop to eat.

The Sword Saint, still in his white robes, sat in this timeworn noodle shop. Before him lay a large bowl of soup made from large bones, accompanied by two flatbreads.

An old man, leaning on a cane, approached slowly, a large handful of chopped green onions clutched in his hand, which he sprinkled generously into the soup bowl.

"Back in the old days," the old man began, seating himself opposite the Sword Saint, "it was always the minor officials who liked to grab a bite at the noodle shop before court. They'd load up on the green onions; without them, this soup just wouldn't be fragrant or flavorful. If they were in a good mood, they'd have half a pot of warmed wine. It couldn't compare to the fine vintage from Wuchuan in the Qian State, but it still packed a good punch. Half a pot of wine, two bowls of soup, two flatbreads—that was what you'd call a truly satisfying meal. Anyway, they were at the back during court, so they didn't have to worry about their breath bothering His Majesty or the important figures, hehe."

He was speaking of things from sixty years ago. At that time, the hierarchy of the three major families had been established, but their patriarchs still held positions in the capital city. The Jin State's court still resembled a proper court, unlike its current state.

The Sword Saint picked up his chopsticks, stirred the green onions in his soup, and blew on it gently. He didn't drink immediately but looked at the old man and said, "Every time I'm away from home for a long period, I start craving this."

"Indeed," the old man replied, grinning proudly and revealing his yellowed teeth. This street had been desolate for many years, yet he had faithfully kept his shop open.

"I wonder how much longer we'll be able to have this soup," the Sword Saint mused.

The old man immediately responded, "No matter how things change outside, as long as the compound across from us is still the Royal Palace, and His Majesty still resides within it, our noodle shop will stay open."

The old man subconsciously wanted to recount the tale from over a hundred years ago: how his ancestors sold noodles on the street, which His Majesty, during an incognito visit, had tasted and praised. However, he suddenly remembered that he had already told this story to the person before him no less than twenty times. So, he quickly checked himself, offering a reserved and modest smile instead.

The Sword Saint nodded but didn't tell the old man that soon there would be no Emperor in this palace. The Royal Palace itself would most likely be converted into a Royal Mansion. Although the new occupants would also bear the surname Yu, they wouldn't be the original lineage.

"The young lads returned today," the old man remarked with a sigh. "It's been so long since we've seen any real action here at the foot of the Emperor."

The Sword Saint drank his soup without replying.

The people in the capital city of Jin State were different from those in the capitals of other nations. In other countries, the residents of capital regions usually enjoyed the most privileged living conditions and often carried themselves with the distinct pride of those living near the imperial seat. However, the tripartite division of Jin State had persisted for such a very long time that the people of the capital city could no longer stand tall. Thus, it was more accurate to say that the populace of the capital city instinctively sought solidarity and protection with Emperor Jin, rather than the capital's loyal army remaining truly loyal to him.

The old man had spent a lifetime making soup and flatbreads. His entire existence was inextricably bound to this noodle shop. He had witnessed its prosperous days and was now experiencing its decline. He had always believed that this was simply the way of life. Yet, a sense of unease lingered in his heart.

He asked, "Those Yan people from the west… they won't attack again, will they?"

The Sword Saint put down his soup bowl, took a couple of bites from a flatbread, shook his head, and said, "Who knows."

"Ah," the old man sighed. He quietly rose and asked, "Two more large bones?"

"No need, this is enough."

"You're getting older too. In the past, you could easily down three bowls of meat soup, five large flatbreads, and gnaw on three or four large bones in one sitting, no problem at all."

"True, I'm certainly not a young man anymore."

"When do you plan to marry?"

"There's no hurry."

"You should hurry."

"Alright, I'll start hurrying then."

Just then, the sound of hooves suddenly echoed from the street outside the noodle shop. The old man turned his head, looking out with suspicion. The Sword Saint stood up, walked to the door, and removed one of the wooden panels. He saw a troop of Jin knights galloping eastward in disarray.

This was followed by the sudden eruption of battle cries and screams throughout the capital city.

The Sword Saint's eyes narrowed.

"What's all the commotion outside? Has something happened?" the old man asked.

The Sword Saint didn't deceive him. "Something has happened."

"Is it the Yan Army attacking?"

"It seems so."

"Sigh, so they attacked after all. Tell me, what on earth compelled us to provoke the Yan people for no reason?"

The Sword Saint turned back and said, "You can't quite put it like that."

"Can't we just live our lives peacefully, without stirring up all this trouble?" The old man had no idea of the Sword Saint's identity, knowing him only as a young master who had once been destitute but was now prosperous. Years ago, when the man before him was younger, he often brought his younger brother to eat at the noodle shop. Over time, their attire improved, and the swords they carried appeared increasingly valuable. Eventually, the younger brother visited less frequently, but this man continued to come by from time to time.

The Sword Saint, however, said, "Eventually, one must find a new way to live."

"Ah, the bigwigs are always thinking about stirring things up. We common folk just want to live our simple lives in peace. By guarding the capital city, guarding the Royal Palace, guarding His Majesty… we can always get by."

"But wouldn't such a life be terribly boring?"

Hearing this, the old man laughed, seemingly unfazed by the chaos and turmoil outside. He pointed to the half-eaten bowl of bone soup before the Sword Saint and said, "Most people in this world are just thinking about how to fill their stomachs. It's only those privileged individuals, who never have to worry about food or drink, who spend all day trying to make their meals more flavorful."