Chapter Eight: No Regrets in the Game

“Is the person in this painting you?”
At the fore of the Xuanwu Platform, a swordsman with a wine gourd hanging from his waist scrutinized the gold-framed ink painting, comparing the image to Pei Xiunian, his gaze flickering back and forth between the two.
Pei Xiunian instinctively took up the conversation, his smile casual. “It is. I was much thinner then.”
There was a faint hint of jest in his words, and the hero who had meant to ask about the differences between the painting and Pei Xiunian began to sense something was amiss.
The resemblance was uncanny, as if they were carved from the same mold, only the figure in the painting seemed a touch more slender.
“How could it be so alike?”
“Very much alike!”
“Then this isn’t you!” Someone sharp-eyed amidst the crowd of cultivators called out, “The inscription bears the seal of Master Qi from the imperial palace. This is a portrait of the Third Prince!”
Pei Xiunian’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he asked again, “Am I not the Third Prince?”
The crowd of cultivators suddenly understood.
The young lord’s noble heart—though he possessed no cultivation, he dared to use this remarkably similar face to do what no one else from court or the martial world dared attempt. It stirred admiration in all.
Thus, the gathered heroes bowed, ceasing their doubts, voices overlapping:
“His Highness the Third Prince’s heart is with the people—truly a man of great righteousness!”
“If the imperial bloodline can produce another like the Third Prince, our Great Zhou shall surely prosper!”
From then on, suspicion of Pei Xiunian among the martial world diminished. His manner and bearing indeed did not resemble those of the usual imperial kin; besides, it was long rumored that the Third Prince had fled, battered and bruised, back to the prefecture…
Judging by the timeline, it added up.
This place was Hangzhou, not far from Yunchuan. The demotion of a high official to Yunchuan was a matter that could be traced back several years—there truly had been such an event…
“Please, gentlemen, calm yourselves.” Pei Xiunian quieted the crowd before the Xuanwu Platform, speaking earnestly:
“The reason I have gathered talented heroes to form a righteous army against Qingqiu is not to send you all to die on the front lines. The Qingqiu army numbers over two hundred thousand; even if the prefecture’s entire garrison stood before them, it might not withstand such overwhelming force.”
“That is why I intend to form a special force to sever Qingqiu’s supply lines—their sole lifeblood.”
Before the cultivators could respond, he slipped a small, often-folded hemp paper from his sleeve, its surface marked with winding routes.
Pei Xiunian spoke plainly, “Two days ago, I returned to the frontline camp and discussed this with General Chu. Thanks to the scouts of the Western Liang army and our own undercover agents, we finally obtained this map detailing Qingqiu’s vital point.”
“The movements of the Western Liang army are well known to Qingqiu; they cannot send their main force. If a small cavalry unit attempted to break through and burn the camps, it would be impossible. But… I believe those present—heroes and exceptional individuals—can succeed.”
Standing atop the Xuanwu Platform, Pei Xiunian’s gaze swept over the gathered cultivators. “The current state of Great Zhou is surely clear to you all. First we lost Yunchuan South, then Yunchuan North, five cities today, ten cities tomorrow.”
“When Qingqiu’s supplies are moved into Xiangyang and their army marches north, they will threaten the heart of our nation. Even though I have no cultivation, even though this will mean risking execution for raising a private army, I must fight to the death for this cause.”

“The greatest heroes serve the nation and the people.”
Those who had come to Jiangdu City at the call of this uncertain promise were surely of heroic courage and tender heart.
Hearing Pei Xiunian’s words, even the common folk watching nearby began to cry out, “The greatest heroes serve the nation and the people!” There was no need to imagine what waves this would stir.
Amidst the righteous indignation and thunderous shouts of the wandering martial artists, Pei Xiunian thought he saw a blindfolded young woman lift her head and “look” at him.
Yes—a blind girl, yet it seemed she was truly observing him.
Pei Xiunian paid little mind, though; the long wind swept by, scarlet banners snapped, and he raised the flag and cried, “Those willing to follow me, we march for Xiangyang this very day!”
The vast Xuanwu Platform echoed with voices, and an unexpected cavalry force immediately moved southward.
Many rode mounts that weren’t even horses.
From this moment, the title of Third Prince became an unspoken secret among these martial folk.
——
With foreknowledge from the divine eye and the route map, and with the aid of this formidable group of cultivators, they encountered no Qingqiu scouts or sentries along the way, advancing at remarkable speed. By dusk, they neared Xiangyang.
Qingqiu’s supply lines were not singular; at the Xiangyang crossroads, the force would have to split. Even with more martial heroes than expected, they were stretched thin.
During a brief rest, Pei Xiunian took out a letter he had prepared, handed it to Xiao Qin, and instructed,
“Deliver this to General Chu. Let him act as he sees fit. If you set out for the Western Liang camp now, it should be just in time.”
Xiao Qin took the letter, contemplated for a moment, and said quietly,
“Your Highness… Young Lord, I can do this. But you are about to enter even deeper into enemy territory. Though you have means of concealment, you will still face the Qingqiu demon clan, and the supply depots are always heavily guarded. Your safety…”
Pei Xiunian felt no particular anxiety; since he had made this move, there was no avoiding it—this plunge straight into Xiangyang.
Unlike other gambles, this move—whose victory or defeat… indeed, even who was prey and who was hunter, could not be calculated.
That day, as he had muttered “failure just before success” in his drowsiness, he had meant this very moment.
“I can keep him safe.”
Suddenly a cold, ethereal woman’s voice sounded, as if from beyond the chessboard, parting the clouds.
Pei Xiunian and Xiao Qin turned to see the blindfolded, feather-robed female swordsman approaching through the mist.
Xiao Qin glanced at her, as if searching his memory, then asked softly, “Are you… Jiang Yunhe?”
The blindfolded girl nodded gently.
Xiao Qin exhaled, seeming reassured, bowed to Pei Xiunian, “Young Lord, please be careful.” Then he rode off without lingering.

Pei Xiunian had no recollection of that name and could only nod at her, though he doubted she could see it.
Then he saw Jiang Yunhe tilt her head, and she nodded back at him.
As he wondered what to say to this indifferent young woman, a burly, bearded man addressed Pei Xiunian,
“Young Lord, the time is up. We have prepared our personnel and directions.”
Pei Xiunian nodded, tightened his grip on the luxurious wooden chest nearly as long as a man strapped to his saddle, and turned to the crowd of martial wanderers.
“Proceed as planned. Once the grain warehouses are burned with mystical fire, withdraw immediately—do not linger in battle, and do not return to Xiangyang to support me.”
“The Qingqiu army has long since left the city. With Miss Jiang’s protection and my identity as the Third Prince of Great Zhou, negotiations should pose no great danger. If something happens, no number of you can help.”
This was the truth.
Martial wanderers could avoid accusations of breaking protocol for one obvious reason: their cultivation was rarely sufficient to wipe out a well-organized army of thousands or tens of thousands. Being overwhelmed by numbers was inevitable.
In times of great strife, only a handful of solitary cultivators could rival the grand sects.
Perhaps there were reclusive masters in the mountains, but they might not even know what year it was, let alone care about a war between nations.
But Pei Xiunian had not come to reclaim Xiangyang today. The county’s difficulty in being conquered was not solely due to the Wei River.
Moreover, there were at least ten thousand defenders within the county. The martial heroes he had recruited were unfamiliar with military strategy; even if they all fought to the death, they might not break Xiangyang.
Thus, Pei Xiunian sought to do only one thing—negotiate.
He entrusted the locations of all the supply depots, including the central hub, to this righteous army—a move that was unsettling, almost handing over his life to others.
But their lives were likewise entrusted to Pei Xiunian; storming the camps and setting fires was no longer a matter of mutual trust.
With the words spoken, Pei Xiunian could only clasp his hands in salute,
“I ask you all to take care—may we find life amidst despair, and see what today brings!”
The crowd of martial heroes saluted in return, “Young Lord, your righteousness is unparalleled. Such action is as walking on the edge of a blade. May we ask your name?”
“My surname is Pei—Pei Xiunian.”
As dusk enveloped the central plains, in an unremarkable bamboo grove outside Xiangyang County, a crucial piece was finally placed on the board.