Chapter 16: An Open Conspiracy

Blades clashed with a piercing, heaven-shaking ring as azure and jade-colored streams of light collided in a brilliant display of skill. The force of their strikes transformed into the roar of a thousand dragons, sweeping up fragmented branches and fallen leaves in the wake of their combat.

Huang Chao’s "Greenfire Golden Light Blade" possessed a blade intent as vast and inexhaustible as the sea; even when faced with a sky-filling rain of arrows, he could sever them all. As *The Art of War* says: "Those who are skilled in the unexpected are as infinite as heaven and earth, as inexhaustible as the great rivers." Though his blade intent was fierce and tyrannical, it lacked not for ingenious shifts, changing with the eternal nature of the universe. In an instant, it obliterated the phantom of the Garuda—the Golden-Winged Bird—conjured by Qi Kejiao’s technique, "Garuda Flutters Its Wings."

Yet, Qi Kejiao’s swordsmanship was equally remarkable. His divine sword, *Zhishang* (Stopping Grief), pivoted into the technique "Indra’s Extinction," drawing upon the concept of the Five Declines of the Deva-King Indra. The sword intent turned desolate, yet contained the profound essence of Nirvana. The radiance of his blade pierced the heavens, seeking to sever the cycle of life and death, aiming to extinguish Huang Chao’s endlessly regenerating Green Wood blade intent.

Like a high tree mourning in the wind or autumn frost falling upon dead wood, the verdant blade glow faded with extreme speed, while the extinction intent of the *Zhishang* sword seized the gaze of everyone on the field.

"If one day I were the Green Emperor, I would command the peach blossoms to bloom alongside the rest!" Huang Chao bellowed. "Life is like a long, eternal song; how could mere extinction be the end?"

The emerald blade light surged once more, sweeping toward Qi Kejiao.

Qi Kejiao made no reply, retreating to deflect the force. The *Zhishang* sword shimmered like frost and snow; no matter Huang Chao’s thousands of killing blows or myriad supernatural techniques, he resolved them into nothingness with a vast, unrestrained sword path, occasionally striking back with a sharp, piercing thrust that forced Huang Chao to parry.

The two crossed blows, each responding to the other’s movements. Huang Chao attacked with all his might, his strength seemingly endless, yet Qi Kejiao remained primarily on the defensive, his form as impenetrable as a fortress, moving with the ease of one strolling through a courtyard.

These two peerless masters engaged in a fierce battle amidst the willow grove, appearing as immortals descended to earth. The play of blades and light whirled the willow catkins into a frantic dance, painting a martial masterpiece of confrontation. The soldiers of both armies watched with bated breath, eyes fixed, fearing to miss a single moment. Such a duel between grandmasters was a sight most men would never witness in a lifetime. To catch a glimpse of insight from it would be an immense boon to any practitioner of the martial arts.

Zhu Wen watched them closely, but heaved a long sigh. During their verbal sparring, Huang Chao had gained the upper hand, but as a grandmaster, he would never press an advantage to the point of cruelty, stopping short of a final strike. In physical combat, while Huang Chao’s offense was dominant and his blade strikes tyrannical, he could not break through Qi Kejiao’s sword posture, failing to establish total suppression.

Qi Kejiao’s defensive style was a product of his temperament; his sword intent was dense, secure, and flawless, leaving no opening, yet he did not fall into a disadvantage. This duel of champions was destined to end in a draw.

In battles between experts, either a winner is decided within a few strikes, or it is impossible to distinguish a victor even after hundreds or thousands of exchanges. However, before the two armies, they could not fight for long. After more than fifty exchanges, Huang Chao and Qi Kejiao withdrew their weapons, effectively declaring the bout a stalemate.

With the commanders’ duel concluded, banners waved and drums sounded. The Grass Army soldiers swarmed out like wolves and tigers, launching a fierce assault on the Taining Army’s positions. Amidst the torrential sweat and swirling dust of war, the deafening battle cries were incessant. Even without the heavy support of chariots and cavalry in the grove, the insurgents’ intense offensive caused the Taining Army’s formation to ripple and break like waves against a shore.

However, the Taining Army had entrenched itself along the slopes, establishing numerous fortifications to defend their position and wear down the spirit of the Grass Army. Not only were caltrops and obstacles placed before the lines to fracture the insurgents’ formation, but crossbow bolts and stones were hurled repeatedly, leaving the Grass Army soldiers bloodied and broken.

The battlefield was a dance of clouds and dragons, tigers and winds. As both armies advanced and retreated, exchanging offense and defense, it mirrored the way the two warriors had countered one another. The art of war relies on the commander’s ability to direct his troops like an extension of his own limbs; an elite army acts as a single entity.

After half a day of intermittent, brutal fighting, the stalemate mirrored the duel between Huang Chao and Qi Kejiao. As dusk approached, Huang Chao ordered the retreat. His army withdrew in strict, impeccable order, leaving Qi Kejiao no opening to pursue.

"Grand Marshal, the enemy has withdrawn," Yan Lingkong, one of the "Six Stars of the Southern Dipper" under the Snow Marshal, said to Qi Kejiao.

"Indeed. Huang Chao commands with strict discipline and excels at training troops. To maintain such a ferocious offensive using infantry in the forest—he truly possesses the spirit of an ancient, renowned general," Qi Kejiao remarked, holding Huang Chao in high regard.

Yan Lingkong looked astonished, but saw Qi Kejiao gesturing toward the auxiliary troops and laborers working feverishly on the construction site.

"Yet, people are the walls, people are the moats, people are the ramparts. Their efforts are what force even a general as skilled as Huang Chao to suffer setbacks and retreat."

"It is precisely because of human labor that the world can be transformed, creating all the prosperity we see today. Human effort can reshape the earth, and the tools of engineering can hold back a million soldiers. Therefore, as martial generals, our duty is to protect the people."

Qi Kejiao sighed heavily. "Huang Chao views all the suffering of this changing era as necessary sacrifices. From the perspective of the grand trend of the world, he may seem correct, but it is far too cruel. One must understand that a speck of dust in the era, when it falls upon the shoulders of an individual, is as heavy as the towering Mount Tai..."

His eyes were filled with compassion. "The way of the general cannot avoid the stains of innocent blood on one's blade, but how can one abandon the compassion innate to human nature? On the battlefield, one is ultimately a prisoner of fate."

Yan Lingkong nodded, lost in thought.

In the days that followed, Huang Chao repeatedly led his troops in fierce assaults on the Taining Army’s positions, attempting to breach the North Bian River defenses. He inflicted several blows and hindered the progress of the Taining Army’s dam-breaking efforts, but ultimately failed to achieve a significant breakthrough, maintaining a state of neither victory nor defeat.

Because they lacked the support of cavalry, the infantry’s relentless assaults on the Taining Army’s hardening fortifications—even with Huang Chao’s brilliant command minimizing casualties—eventually exhausted the soldiers. Even the most battle-hardened veterans could not help but voice their grievances.

No matter what, Qi Kejiao’s engineering methods were world-renowned and not easily broken. Prolonged, fierce attacks only wore down the morale of the insurgent army. Yet, if Qi Kejiao were allowed to breach the dam, and the supplies, horses, and even the families of the insurgents within the camp were swallowed by the flood, the Grass Army would fall into an even more desperate plight.

Because they were one step behind, by the time Huang Chao launched his attack, Qi Kejiao had already established his fortifications along the North Bian River. This strategy of flooding had transformed from a hidden plot into an open maneuver. The insurgent army, which was supposed to be the one on the run, was forced to take the offensive against the Snow Marshal’s sturdy positions, engaging in a war of attrition to prevent the destruction of their camp.

Though they fought for survival, how could such tedious and arduous combat sustain high morale? Huang Chao himself had long realized this. While he remained passionate and used his personal charisma to inspire the troops, he could not hide the shadow of concern in his eyes.

Zhu Wen, the rising general of the Grass Army, had also lost the smile from his face. From the beginning, he had felt that something was wrong. But everything seemed shrouded in mist; the clues he saw and the information in his heart were not enough to illuminate the layered, desolate wilderness of his confusion.

He looked up once more at the deep blue sky. The sky, which once felt vast, distant, and infinite, now seemed like a hemispherical cage rimmed by the horizon, pressing down upon his soul and will, preventing his thoughts from soaring beyond the thirty-three heavens.

"How much I can see depends on how high my heart is placed."

"It seems that facing a truly powerful opponent, trying to look down upon them with ease is not so simple after all."

While some rejoiced, others sorrowed. As the morale of the Grass Army gradually waned, the camp of Song Wei outside the East Gate of Songzhou was filled with jubilation.

"Truly, heaven is destroying the Grass bandits!" Song Xiangling, a clansman of Song Wei, said at the military council, clapping his hands. "The Snow Marshal Qi Kejiao has such a brilliant strategy to break the thieves. I imagine that in the upcoming decisive battle, the two bandits, Wang Xianzhi and Huang Chao, will be presented as captives to the capital and their heads hung from the North Gate. For the hundred thousand soldiers of our army who have toiled for years, we can finally hang up our armor, put away our swords, and enjoy the rewards of our merit. Is this not a grand occasion?"

Song Xiangling was also from the Guangping Song clan, a distant relative of Song Wei, and served as a junior officer.

"Xiangling is right," the white-haired old Marshal Song Wei said, stroking his beard. "Now, we only need to wait for Marshal Qi to breach the North Bian River dam, and the Huang bandit will surely be broken. If the thief fears the water attack and abandons the strategic advantage of Yanwang City to flee, our army can pursue with all our strength and destroy him in one blow."

"Once the Huang bandit is destroyed, the Wang bandit will be isolated and surely captured by this Marshal. When the Emperor descends his grace, you all will be rewarded!"

The generals in the tent cheered one after another, praising Marshal Song’s brilliance, as if they had forgotten that it was Qi Kejiao who had devised the strategy that ensnared Huang Chao’s army.

But just then, a deep, resonant voice shattered the harmony.

"Does Marshal Song truly believe that letting Marshal Qi take the primary credit is enough? Or does the Marshal truly think that this will completely annihilate the Grass bandits and secure a total victory?"

Everyone turned their gaze to see a young man with a bronze complexion, brows like knives, a majestic physique, and a stern expression. It was Wang Jian, a general of the Zhongwu Army.

Amidst the chorus of praise, Wang Jian spoke unhurriedly, ignoring the hostile glares from the "Heavenly Blade" Song Jue beside Song Wei, and continued with his harsh words.

"In the Battle of Yizhou years ago, the imperial army did not fail to crush Wang Xianzhi; many even thought he was dead. But shortly after, Wang Xianzhi appeared, lively as ever. If our army grows arrogant and negligent today, and fails to muster the will to fight to the death to eliminate the leaders, even if we win, who can guarantee the bandit leaders won't flee, regroup, and become a grave threat to the nation once more?"

"I have one suggestion, and I hope the Marshal will hear it. It would allow you to claim the full merit of pacifying the rebels, and the nation would have no more fear of wandering bandits. If the plan fails, I ask the Marshal to take my head and parade it before the three armies!"