The Demon Lords

Chapter 534 43 Hero_1

On the mountain trail, the road was tough for horse-drawn carriages and even less feasible for ox-carts. Yet an old man, wrapped in a blue cotton quilted jacket, sat snugly in his cart.

The cart wasn't pulled by an animal, but by a man.

The man walked with a limp, a sword tied around his waist. Even on this rugged, stony path, he managed to pull the cart steadily.

Beside the cart walked a woman. She wore a black veiled conical hat, masking her face. However, her graceful waist and white Chu boots hinted at her strength. She showed no signs of fragility; on the contrary, she exuded an air of competence.

The old man reclining in the cart held a fan in his left hand and a wine gourd in his right. Sewn to his waist was a patched pouch containing dried tofu and fennel beans.

A piece of dried tofu, two beans, washed down with a gulp of Yellow Wine, all savored with the mountain breeze... TSK. Such a taste, it was exquisite enough to make one's bones melt with pleasure.

Yet this old man, indulging in food, drink, and leisure, paid no mind to the cart puller's toil or the woman's arduous journey on foot. Instead, he chattered endlessly.

"The last time I came here, this place was still part of Jin land. Now, it has become Yan border. I wonder if it's the things that have changed, or the people.

Think back several centuries, when the Yu clan pioneered the Three Jin territory—what heroes they were! But now, their ancestral temples have been moved, and their descendants live in Yanjing under Yan rule.

Great figures rise and fall; in the end, all glory fades."

The man pulling the cart merely smiled upon hearing this. He had grown accustomed to the old man's ceaseless prattling.

A sunset would inspire him to poetry.

The sight of a child would inspire him to poetry.

Even a beautiful maiden would inspire him to poetry.

Indeed, even when relieving himself in the latrine, with rumbles from below, poetic inspiration could still surge from above.

"I wonder, when I next return to Qian, whether my hometown will still speak the Wuchuan dialect, or if the northern Yan accent will have become the norm."

Unlike the man's taciturn nature, the woman possessed a stubborn streak and particularly disliked those like the old man who engaged in idle talk about trivialities.

Just then, a mountain breeze swept across her face, gently lifting the black gauze of her hat and revealing a pair of exquisite red lips.

"The land of Three Jin may have seemed formidable, boasting of over a million knights. Yet, the division of the Three Jin persisted for sixty years. The Yan people merely capitalized on Emperor Jin betraying the fate of the nation and the internal discord among the Jin states to seize the advantage.

Although our great Qian has suffered temporary setbacks, we have never yielded an inch of territory to the Yan. The current Emperor's resolve to strengthen the nation is clear to both the court and the common people. In the future, don't assume the Yan will march south again; it might be our great Qian's scholars and warriors who venture north!"

The old man glanced at the woman and scoffed disdainfully, "The Yan sent sixty thousand iron cavalry right to the gates of our imperial capital, and then withdrew at their leisure. I really don't know where this confidence of yours comes from, young lady."

"That was then, this is now."

"HEH, a woman's perspective."

"Then I'd like to hear a man's perspective. And I'm especially curious, Mr. Yao, when the Yan cavalry marched south, where were you?"

"At home."

"Doing what?"

"Making babies."

The woman was speechless.

The man pulling the cart chuckled, "HEH HEH HEH."

The woman spat delicately and murmured, "Shameless."

Mr. Yao Zizhan, the man reclining in the cart and a paragon of Qian State's literary culture, seemed unperturbed and said directly, "What I, this old man, excel at is poetry and song. In times of peace and prosperity, gathering friends for wine and merriment in a pavilion can become a celebrated story. In leisure, seeking out fine foods also makes for a pleasant anecdote. Presiding in court, passing judgment, clearly distinguishing strong from weak, and righting wrongs—these too can be lauded.

But when it comes to military affairs, I'm almost entirely ignorant; it's as if I've figured out nine openings, but one remains stubbornly blocked. Aiding the people, ensuring their peace, procuring supplies, transporting grain, strategic planning, making swift decisions—I, this old man, understand none of it.

Officials like me are fine for keeping up appearances in peacetime—striking ceremonial bells, pasting fresh paper on windows to make things look good. But when real trouble hits, my absence from a position of responsibility is actually the greatest help I can offer.

Mr. Chen, do you think what I, this old man, have said makes sense?"

Mr. Chen, who was pulling the cart, nodded and replied seriously, "It makes sense."

"Absolutely preposterous!" the woman retorted angrily.

Yao Zizhan touched his earlobe and smacked his lips.

"You feast on the people's toil! In times of chaos, even if you lack real talent, surely you're no worse than an accountant or a common laborer?"

"Ah, young lady, you're mistaken again. I am indeed a veneer for prosperous times. Whether the face beneath is truly beautiful or falsely so, whether it's scarred or rotten, it always needs someone like me to polish its appearance.

The ruler needs his praises sung, and the people need a share of the glory. But frankly, do you think only our Emperor needs this veneer? Doesn't the Yan Emperor need one too?

HEH. To be blunt, even if I went to the battlefield and was captured, as long as I revealed my identity, no matter how savage the North Border Army might be, they'd have to respectfully escort me by carriage, plying me with good food and drink, all the way to Yanjing.

Wen Sutong is treated like a deity in Yanjing. If I were to go, wouldn't the Yan Emperor himself come out of the city to greet me, proclaiming: 'The pinnacle of the world's culture has come to Yan today!'

Wouldn't that boost their morale and diminish our own?

Although I, Yao Zizhan, am an old bag of bones, believe it or not, the Yan Emperor would gladly trade three thousand iron cavalry for me. Instead of that, isn't it better for me to stay in my hometown, dallying with my charming wives and concubines? That's truly thinking of the nation, a contribution to the state!"

The woman was speechless again.

"Well? Nothing to say?"

"That's sophistry."

"HEH, this isn't sophistry. In this world, what is ever truly black or white? There's never any absolute truth to be found.

I've idled away most of my life. In my youth, I fancied myself a romantic, believing the world and its affairs to be vulgar and sullied, while only I was noble and pure.

It wasn't until old age, after taking a beating from the Yan people, that I finally understood.

Poetry, music, chess, and calligraphy, songs of praise and odes to peace and prosperity—no matter how beautifully you adorn them, they are ultimately no match for cold, hard steel!

Mr. Chen, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes," Mr. Chen replied.

The woman still seemed unconvinced, but she also realized she could never win a war of words with this old man. Perhaps her stubbornness was merely a diversion for him on this journey.

The old man shook his head and lamented, "Years ago, I too yearned for the life of the street. It was said that the street of our great Qian was the most vibrant, Chu's the most mysterious, Jin's the most carefree, and only Yan's street was utterly dull.

So dull that Li Liangshen, one of the Four Great Swordsmen, was actually a commander in the North Border Army. Where was any spirit of the people of the street in that?

Moreover, Yan State isn't that large. The Yan imperial court takes a share, the noble families take a share, and the Earl of North Border's household takes another. With so many factions dividing the spoils, what's left for the street to sustain even small fry?

But now, it seems I was mistaken.

Beneath the walls of the imperial capital, Baili Sword of our great Qian, the foremost swordsman of his generation, fled in disarray with his sister before the iron cavalry of the North Border Army.

It was previously rumored that in the capital city of Jin State, their Sword Saint Yu Huaping battled the Southern Marquis of the Yan people and was defeated.

The street is, after all, just the street. It's called that precisely because it lacks true respectability."

Mr. Chen stopped pulling the cart.

"What's wrong, Mr. Chen? Did that last remark of mine displease you?"

Mr. Chen shook his head and said, "Someone else has said something similar to you."

"Oh? Who might that be?"

"A Yan person."

"That's not surprising. The Yan people only believe in their sabers; they trust nothing else."

"Perhaps."

Mr. Chen resumed pulling the cart forward.

Yao Zizhan took another sip of wine, pointed to the mountains ahead, and said, "Up ahead, that should be Geda Mountain."

The woman spoke up, "It's widely known that when you, Great Master Yao, were young, you traveled the Skybreak Mountain range, were captured by wild people, and nearly lost your life. The world was thus almost deprived of so many beloved poems and literary masterpieces. Few know the intricate details behind that story."

"There weren't that many twists. I don't mind telling you, the one who captured me back then was Helian Xiongbi.

That young whelp, Helian Xiongbi, hadn't yet become head of the Helian Family. He was just a youngster then, same as me."

"Was it Helian Xiongbi who saved you?" the woman asked.

"HEH HEH, nonsense. I was merely traveling in this area, with a few Mature Barbarian acquaintances as companions. You'd never imagine it, but young Helian Xiongbi back then was quite the aspiring wordsmith.

He was actually here alone, drinking wine and reciting poetry.

I overheard him and chuckled a couple of times.

And then that young rascal captured me!"

Mr. Chen let out a couple of "HEH HEH"s.

"He didn't kill you then."

"That's right, he couldn't bring himself to kill me. This place was a secret of the Helian Family. Logically, he should have killed me. But he was so taken by my literary talent that he made a deal: if I wrote him a poem each day that pleased him, he'd let me live another day.

So I wrote, and wrote—I wrote poems for him for three whole months."

"These days, countless courtesans would give a king's ransom for a single verse of yours, yet back then your poems were so cheaply bought."

"Those were poems to save my life! Cheap? My foot!"

Yao Zizhan shot the woman an irritated glance and continued, "After three months, Helian Xiongbi released me. He made me promise not to reveal what happened here."

"And that's all?"

"There was one more thing."

"What was it?"

"It was this."

"What exactly was it?"

"He said that if he died one day, I must come and offer a funeral couplet for him, with the finest poem."

With that, Yao Zizhan poured the remaining wine from his gourd onto the ground outside the cart.

He sighed and said, "Alas, woe is me!"

"I never expected you to be a man of such deep feeling and integrity," the woman said with a sigh.

Mr. Chen spoke up, "I didn't expect it either."

The old man squinted his slightly intoxicated eyes and said, "Mr. Chen, have you taken a fancy to this young lady?"

"Yes."

"Have you told her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'm lame, and crippled."

"But you're not useless. In a real fight, I reckon this young woman still couldn't beat you, right? Don't tell me when your leg was broken, your... other equipment... got broken too?"

Mr. Chen let go of the cart with one hand, briefly checked himself, and said, "That's still intact."

"Then what in blazes are you afraid of? She's beautiful, you have your sword—it's a fine match!"

The woman remained silent.

Mr. Chen, however, said, "What parents in this world would willingly marry their daughter to a cripple?"

Yao Zizhan chuckled, "HEH HEH HEH," tossed a handful of fennel beans into his mouth, crunched them, and said, "What do her parents have to do with it? When we return from Geda Mountain, take your sword, go to the imperial capital, and demand her as your wife. Just you wait and see! That very night, a grand red bridal sedan will deliver her to your doorstep!"

The woman's body trembled slightly.

Mr. Chen, however, shook his head and said, "They just hand out wives there?"

Yao Zizhan slapped his thigh, laughed, and exclaimed, "You bet! Her place specializes in handing out wives!"