Chapter Forty-Seven: Encroaching Behemoths and Serpentine Schemes
In the capital, there existed an academy built specifically to accommodate scholars preparing for the imperial examinations, and it was here that Liang Yan took up residence. Each day, he mingled with like-minded students, composing poetry and debating history, leading a carefree existence. His brilliance shone, and within the academy, those who despaired of success—old scholars and those who felt their prospects dim—fawned over him, offering flattering words in hopes that, once his name rose on the golden list, he might lend them a hand.
At first, Liang Yan was disdainful of such sycophancy, but as time passed, he grew accustomed to the praise, feeling it quite natural. That was until the day the examination results were announced.
Liang Yan stood frozen before the imperial proclamation, staring incredulously at the list, his face drained of all color.
“No! Impossible! I answered every question perfectly—how could this happen? Why am I not even at the bottom of the list!”
His spirit quaked violently. With a cry, he spat blood and muttered in despair, “After years of diligent study, this is my reward? How can I face my father now...”
From that day forward, the scholars who once surrounded him faded away. Some even hurried to distance themselves, pointing fingers and showing nothing but disdain.
Witnessing the fickleness of the world, Liang Yan’s heart sank into hopelessness. He sought solace in wine, living in drunken oblivion.
One day, Liang Yan was once again drinking himself senseless at the Drunken Immortal Tavern, imbibing until dusk fell and night deepened. Suddenly, a commotion arose outside; a dozen black-clad men with blades burst in.
The tavern keeper, a worldly man, quickly ordered the staff to move tables and chairs aside, shut the doors, and everyone fled to avoid trouble. Clearly, they wished to preserve themselves.
Liang Yan, sensing danger, staggered to his feet and demanded, “I am but a destitute scholar—who would make such a spectacle against me?”
One of the black-clad men sneered, “Fool, you’ve offended Young Master Li and still want to sit the imperial exams? Let me be frank: your exam paper was switched in secret. No matter your talent, you’ll never appear on the imperial list!”
Liang Yan’s eyes nearly burst with rage. “So you villains manipulated everything in the shadows! I’ll fight you all!”
Without hesitation, he lunged at them, but his fists were weak, his strength sapped; his blow felt more like a tickle.
“Damn! There’s poison in the wine!” he realized. His legs gave way, and he collapsed, consciousness fading.
The black-clad man laughed wildly. “A peasant dares challenge fate!”
...
When he awoke again, Liang Yan found himself lying in a refined little room.
“Is this the Underworld? Quite elegant, really!”
He grinned, struggled to sit up, and was struck by sharp pain—his body was wrapped in bandages.
Suddenly, the door opened, and a maid entered, carrying a bowl of medicine, her lips pursed in reluctance.
Seeing Liang Yan awake, she placed the medicine on the table and said bluntly, “Your life was saved by my lady. From now on, you’re a servant of the Prince’s Mansion. We don’t keep idle hands; drink the medicine and report to the steward’s office.”
Without waiting for a reply, she gave directions and left.
Liang Yan smiled bitterly, drank the medicine, and followed her instructions to the steward.
A square-faced middle-aged man sat inside. Hearing Liang Yan’s introduction, he tossed over a waist token without looking up. “From now on, you’re a low-ranking guard of the Prince’s Mansion. Your duty is to patrol the grounds. Check the hall for shift times. Patrols run day and night—slacking will be punished by house law!”
Liang Yan thought, “Having failed the exams, I now find myself a guard by sheer accident. So be it; since this life was spared, I ought to serve here.”
He nodded respectfully, took the waist token, and thus became a patrol guard of the Prince’s Mansion.
Spring passed, autumn came, and time flew by.
In the blink of an eye, Liang Yan had served in the mansion for three years.
In the first year, relying on his martial prowess, he quickly made a name for himself, rising to lead the guards. Even the Prince took notice; after a family ritual, he praised Liang Yan’s talent and promoted him directly to the Prince’s personal guard.
From then on, fortune smiled upon him—his rank in the personal guard rose ever higher. On one occasion, while escorting the Prince, Liang Yan risked his life to save him, earning the Prince’s trust. He was gifted a sword that could cleave iron like mud, and appointed vice-captain of the personal guard.
...
The personal guard was the Prince’s elite force, far above other servants. The vice-captain’s position was illustrious indeed.
Rumor had it the Prince’s daughter often sought Liang Yan’s company, seemingly smitten. It would not be surprising were he to become the Prince’s son-in-law one day.
At this point, Liang Yan was at the height of his fame; the shadow of his exam failure long forgotten.
One evening, Liang Yan, cheeks flushed, carried a jug of burning wine through the woods outside the city. He had just returned from a secret tryst with the Prince’s daughter, his mood elated. He stopped at a tavern for wine and drank as he walked.
Suddenly, he saw a figure ahead—tall, with a Seven-Star Blade at his waist, back turned.
“Captain Lu?” Liang Yan called out in surprise. “Why are you here so late? Is there something you need?”
Lu Chong sighed, turned, and said, “Yan, you’ve been at my side for a year now. Tell me honestly—have I, Lu Chong, ever wronged you?”
“Captain Lu is righteous and loyal, treats his men with honor. I admire few, but you are one!” Liang Yan replied sincerely.
“Good!” Lu Chong was moved, his tiger eyes glistening. He stepped forward, embraced Liang Yan, and patted his shoulder. “Rare to find someone so true. Actually, I need your help tonight!”
“Say the word, Captain. If it’s within my power, I won’t refuse.”
“Excellent! It’s nothing major—I wish to borrow something.”
“Oh? What is it you’d like to borrow?” Liang Yan asked.
“Your head, just for a moment!” With these words, Liang Yan felt a searing pain in his abdomen. Looking down, he saw a dagger buried in his flesh.
Panicked, Liang Yan struck out at Lu Chong, but Lu retreated gracefully, withdrawing two yards.
Liang Yan pulled out the dagger, gritting his teeth. “Lu Chong! We bear no enmity—why do this?”
“No enmity?” Lu’s voice was cold. “Our feud is vast! Ever since you became vice-captain, I’ve been on the brink—every day tormented. You’re young and talented, even courting the Princess. The Prince could replace me at any time! Before you came, all this was mine!”
Lu Chong grew increasingly agitated, his words turning to shouts.
Two figures emerged from the woods, one applauding, “Captain Lu is ruthless—destined for greatness!”
The other said coldly, “Enough talk. Kill Liang Yan and report back!”
Liang Yan glanced over; the two were dressed oddly—one wielded a blade, the other a sword. Their steps were light, their internal power condensed, clearly rare masters of the martial world.
“So Li Xun won’t let me live either!”
The cold-faced swordsman said, “At least you understand.”
The green-robed swordsman laughed, “You brought this on yourself—originally, you were insignificant. Li would have forgotten you, but you rose to prominence, about to marry the Princess. How could Li tolerate you?”
Liang Yan laughed bitterly. “So I’ve obstructed your path.”
Lu Chong, impatient, drew his sword and charged. The two assassins moved in as well.
Though Liang Yan possessed martial skill, his wound was severe. Against three top masters, he barely lasted thirty moves, suffering fresh wounds.
Suddenly, Lu Chong struck him from behind, opening a long wound; blood gushed forth. Liang Yan stumbled, then was pierced in the chest by the swordsman.
“Ah!” Liang Yan staggered back.
“I refuse! I refuse to accept this!”
Blood blurred his vision. Memories flashed—his father’s kindness, the Princess’s gentle face, the joy of becoming vice-captain, the pride before his men. All these scenes flickered past like a lantern parade.
“All that I struggled for—I refuse to let it go!” Liang Yan raged inwardly.
“If you refuse, then reclaim what is yours!” A sudden voice echoed deep within.
...
Liang Yan snapped his eyes open, finding himself enveloped in endless darkness.
“If you refuse, demand it from them. What was yours is owed—take it back!”
“What do you mean, take it back? What are you saying?” Liang Yan was terrified, unable to respond.
The voice did not answer, only chanting:
“Kill, kill, kill! Slay all, and claim glory and riches!”
“Kill, kill, kill! Slay all, and claim glory and riches!”
Gradually, Liang Yan’s eyes lost focus, his lips moving in a low chant, the voice growing ever louder until it was clear:
“Kill, kill, kill…”
“…Slay all, and claim glory and riches!”
With a roar, Liang Yan awoke from the darkness. At that moment, the cold-faced swordsman’s blade was less than an inch from his neck; in the next instant, he would have been decapitated.
But it did not happen. Liang Yan’s gaze was icy; he swung his sword, a dark flash slicing the assassin’s blade in two.
The assassin recoiled in terror, clutching his broken weapon and retreating desperately. But Liang Yan gave no quarter; with another swing, his sword twisted and vanished, replaced by an eight-foot-long crimson serpent, its head raised, tongue flickering.
Liang Yan wielded the red snake; it grew swiftly, reaching over twenty feet in the blink of an eye.
With a hiss, the serpent’s head plunged into the assassin’s heart, chewing voraciously. As it fed, Liang Yan’s wounds healed before his eyes.
“You!” The green-robed swordsman and Lu Chong were stunned. Someone shouted, “He’s not human!” and turned to flee.
Liang Yan cast a cold glance, and with a wave, the serpent darted into the night. Soon, two screams echoed; it was clear the two had perished.
Once the serpent had devoured their organs, Liang Yan’s wounds were nearly healed. He retracted the serpent, which transformed back into an ordinary sword. Without sparing the corpses a glance, he vanished into the darkness...
Not long after, news spread through the Prince’s Mansion: the captain of the personal guard had been killed by enemies. Liang Yan, trusted by the Prince, naturally assumed the vacant post.
A year later, it was announced the Prince would marry his daughter to Liang Yan. The mansion was festooned with lanterns; joy filled every corner. Liang Yan seized the chance to return to Yongle Town and bring his father, Liang Xuan, to the capital. The girl named Little Jade from four years prior was utterly forgotten.
Liang Yan married into the Prince’s Mansion, leaping to greatness. Later, he distinguished himself in quelling a rebellion, earning the Emperor’s favor and a military post, thus beginning his life as a soldier.
Liang Yan continued to win honors in the army. It was said that once, seeking glory, he led a small force deep behind enemy lines, surrounded by hostile troops. The rear units believed him lost.
Yet scouts reported he and a few hundred men broke through the encirclement.
According to reports: a god of slaughter charged from the enemy ranks, wielding a crimson serpent, mounted not on a horse but a gray boar.
The red serpent spat venom; each attack claimed a hundred lives. Enemy officers who tried to block it were devoured, their organs gone. The gray boar was even more ferocious—one kick, one stomp, and enemies’ brains burst, or their guts spilled.
When the main force arrived, they routed the invaders. The battlefield ran with blood; corpses piled high. Nearly a million enemy soldiers were thrown into chaos, routed by Liang Yan’s few thousand men.
From then on, Liang Yan’s prestige soared. Surrounding kingdoms feared him like a beast.
Among enemy ranks, rumors painted him as a demon god: wielding a long serpent, riding a gray boar; the serpent feasted on viscera, the boar on brains. Whenever Liang Yan was known to be present, morale would collapse, armies scattered.
As time passed, Liang Yan’s rank rose, until he became Grand Marshal. Those who had once wronged him, like Li Xun, were punished, their families executed. Not only his enemies, but all who opposed him in court were purged.
Now, he was second only to the Emperor—indeed, even the Emperor had to heed his wishes, for Liang Yan alone commanded the army. Should he rebel, none would be surprised.
But today, he faced his first evenly matched battle since entering the army. His opponent: the undefeated general of the enemy nation, a legend, a warrior in white, and a woman.