The Demon Lords-Chapter 696 - 140 Leaving the City_1

Siniang had once woven a Golden Silk Soft Armor for Zheng Fan and all the Demon Kings. Before leaving the city this time, Zheng Fan had taken the Golden Silk Soft Armor worn by A Ming and Liang Cheng and put them on himself.

He didn't take the ones belonging to Fanli and Xue Three. One was too big, the other too small.

Then, having put on the armor, he mounted his horse. Under the noontime sun, Zheng Fan squinted, quietly enjoying the moment.

The more tense and stimulating the environment, the more he craved such moments of tranquility and warmth. Yet, if he stayed in this comfort too long, he would begin to seek external excitement.

The poor old man fishing and the rich man fishing might seem to be doing the same thing, appreciating the same scenery, but because of their different states of mind, their responses to the environment naturally differed.

While General Zheng was posturing here, behind him, the Sword Saint rode up on his horse, wearing ordinary armor and carrying a Black Dragon flag. The flagpole itself had his Longyuan sword embedded within.

In fact, for the Sword Saint himself, wearing the armor of the Yan people and carrying their flag didn't bother him much.

Firstly, he had been a city guard in Shengle City for several months and had grown accustomed to wearing the armor. Even the Black Dragon flag no longer seemed as jarring as it had at first.

Secondly, the Sword Saint himself was an easy-going person. A gentleman can be persuaded by appealing to his principles; if you pressed him with matters of great righteousness, he would surely comply.

General Zheng had mastered this tactic by now.

Do you want to see all the wild people involved in this incursion into Jin perish?

Do you want the snow plains to remain barren for the next fifty years?

Do you want to avenge the Jin people who died under the savage blades of the wild people?

Then pick up this flag.

Follow me.

Let us leave the city.

Perhaps, in the eyes of others, the Sword Saint of Jin State was a terrifying, unapproachable figure. But for General Zheng, he particularly liked making friends with such individuals.

The two met, and it was almost time.

General Zheng reached out, touching his armor that had grown hot under the sun, and asked, "Do we have a chance?"

"That depends on how close we can get," said the Sword Saint.

"How close do we need to be?"

"At a hundred paces, I have a thirty percent certainty. At fifty paces, sixty percent. Within ten paces, I'll have ninety percent certainty."

"So there's no absolute certainty?"

"If the commander of those tens of thousands of wild people warriors possesses strength comparable to yours, then yes."

"Bro, talking like that will cost you friends."

Saying this, Zheng Fan took out a long white cloth from his saddlebag.

"What's this?" asked the Sword Saint.

"A Hada. It symbolizes good fortune. In my hometown, it's presented to distinguished guests and friends who have traveled far. In a moment, I intend to offer my blessings to my good Anda."

This way, the distance would also be closed.

General Zheng's preparations were, indeed, quite meticulous.

"The Yan region has such a tradition?"

"It's unique to our village."

"I see."

"I will do my best to shorten the distance between you and the enemy's main general, but you must also be wary of their flagbearer. He is likely no ordinary person."

"I know, but it will not significantly affect things."

This was confidence—the confidence of the Sword Saint.

Among the Four Great Swordsmen, Li Liangshen served in the army. As a commanding general, he was actually more adept at leading troops and warfare than personal combat. As for the master swordsmith of Chu State, no one had ever seen him fight, so the true extent of his abilities remained unknown. In the current age, the two most skilled individuals at killing with a sword were undoubtedly the Sword Saint and Baili Sword of Qian State.

Baili Sword's sister was the Qian Emperor's personal Silver Armored Guard, and Baili Sword himself was a guest of honor of the Zhao Family.

If the Sword Saint wished, he could easily become a top Imperial Censorate Officer in Yan. With such an unparalleled expert by his side, willing to follow his commands, Zheng Fan felt as if he were using a cheat.

Well, since this 'cheat' was still active, he might as well make the most of it.

"Our last successful night raid bought us three days," General Zheng continued, building the Sword Saint's morale. "If we can assassinate the enemy's main general this time, our chances of successfully defending the city will be very high."

He was emphasizing the immense significance of their current undertaking—so significant that one might disregard life and death, even sacrifice oneself, to accomplish it.

"But doing so would tarnish your reputation, General Zheng."

The enemy invites you to negotiate, an ostensibly honorable gesture, yet your mind is bent on treacherously ambushing them. This is truly detrimental to one's reputation.

"My reputation is not important."

Zheng Fan looked around with a gaze full of deep emotion.

He said passionately, "These men, I brought them out here. I must do my utmost to bring them back alive. Their wives and children are still waiting for them at home. I must be responsible for them. Compared to that, what is a little bit of empty fame?"

The Sword Saint sighed. Having once served as a city guard in Shengle, he could empathize with the feelings of an ordinary soldier.

Zheng Fan glanced sideways, catching the Sword Saint's expression from the corner of his eye. Mm, seems like I've successfully gotten him on board.

"When the time comes to strike, do you need a signal from me?"

"No need. When I draw my sword, I must first gather my power. I will know when the time is right."

"Good. After you strike, regardless of the outcome, I will immediately ride back to the city. I must be responsible for these men under my command. Please understand."

"I understand. That is what you should do."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Armored soldiers stepped forward to remove the barricades behind the city gate. Inside, several hundred cavalrymen stood ready.

If any mishap occurred outside, they would charge out of the gate at a moment's notice to escort their general back.

Furthermore, grappling hooks were readied on the city walls. If the situation became dire, Liang Cheng himself would shoot an arrow with a rope attached. As long as Zheng Fan could grasp the rope, Fanli, positioned above, would rapidly haul him directly up the wall.

In any case, all safety measures and contingency plans were thoroughly prepared.

The reason was simple: Zheng Fan was aiming for a "decapitation strike."

Gently urging his warhorse forward, Zheng Fan felt a twinge of regret. Why didn't I ride the Pixiu here? At a critical moment, escaping on a Pixiu would surely be faster, wouldn't it?

But dwelling on such thoughts now was pointless.

After exiting the city gate, the Sword Saint lowered his head, his helmet obscuring his face. His aura was completely retracted.

High above them, a falcon had already been circling for some time.

Demonic beasts possessed a degree of spiritual awareness; in some respects, their perceptive abilities were even keener than those of humans.

"Can that bird be fooled?" Zheng Fan asked, his lips barely moving.

"Previously, no. Now, it should be possible."

This was the Sword Saint's reply.

In the past, wherever he stood, he naturally exuded the sharpness of an unsheathed sword. Even if he suppressed his aura, his inherent disposition was difficult to conceal completely.

However, after months of living as a city guard in Shengle, the Sword Saint's state of mind had undergone a new breakthrough. He could now act more naturally; this was, in a sense, a return to primal simplicity.

In fact, the Sword Saint's presence within this Yan Army contingent was not widely known.

Although the Sword Saint had taken action during the capture of Fengxin City's gate, the situation had been chaotic, and few among the ordinary rebel soldiers would have recognized him.

Moreover, the rebels of Fengxin City, after being crushed by Zheng Fan's Shengle army, had not gone on to join the wild people. Some had simply disappeared, changing their identities, while others had turned to banditry.

They weren't fools. When the Yan people appeared in Fengxin City, they naturally understood that even more brutal battles between the Yan people and the wild people were inevitable. They certainly weren't going to offer themselves up to the wild people to serve as cannon fodder.

Furthermore, in the grand scheme of things, especially in wars between nations involving tens of thousands of troops, an individual's martial prowess and brilliance could easily be overshadowed. Outsiders only knew that the Shengle army had stormed Fengxin and drowned the Situ Yi brothers; they wouldn't delve too deeply into the finer details of every event.

The street is the street, and a national war is a national war.

Just as when the North Army had attacked the imperial capital, although Baili Sword had arrived in time, he could only choose to retreat in the face of the North Army's iron cavalry, ultimately playing no significant role.

And now, this opportunity had been practically handed to them by the enemy. In Zheng Fan's view, it was as if the heavens were showing him favor, compensating for the terrible luck that seemed to plague his every charge.

Besides, swordsmen excelled in single combat, and the one beside him was the 'Saint' among swordsmen.

The Sword Saint asked quietly, "Aren't you at all curious or tempted by the terms the wild people have offered you?"

In the Sword Saint's eyes, Zheng Fan was somewhat inscrutable. He sensed that Zheng Fan was a very 'pure' person, though this 'purity' was not the kind commonly understood by ordinary people.

"What great offer could it be? Make me a king? Perhaps the Prince Jin? By the way, there's something you don't know. I had the Eldest Prince go to the northern snow plains to help bestow titles of nobility and kingship upon those tribal chieftains. We're all thousand-year-old foxes; why spin me tales from *Liaozhai*? They're using the same old tricks. Wouldn't I be a fool to fall for that?"

"What is *Liaozhai*? A thousand-year-old fox... that must be a terrifying demonic beast. I've never seen one."

"Ah, tonight I'll tell you about it. They're quite interesting ghost stories."

"Is that a new work of yours? I know you wrote the "Zhengzi Art of War"."

Zheng Fan pondered for a moment, sighed, and replied, "Yes."

"You know, if you weren't a general, you would have made a fine scholar. That wouldn't be bad at all. Qian State has Yao Zizhan; thanks to him, literature has flourished there for thirty years."

Zheng Fan put on a look of profound sorrow and said, "To the west of Yan State lie the barbarian tribes, to the east are the Three Jin. Now, we must also face the wild people. And to the south, the Qian people are sharpening their blades and feeding their horses. Though Great Yan is vast, there is no room within it for a quiet scholar's desk."

The Sword Saint, moved by these words, said, "So, that is why the children of Shengle can enter private schools without paying tuition fees?"

Zheng Fan closed his eyes, his mouth slightly agape. A few strands of saliva seemed to connect his upper and lower lips. He nodded and said, "The life I could not lead... I hope the next generation can."

「 … 」

The falcon continued to circle overhead.

Meanwhile, in another direction, Geremu rode his horse, slowly advancing towards Snow Sea Pass. Half a horse-length behind him was a middle-aged wild people flagbearer.

This flagbearer's true identity was that of a Conductor, the highest-ranking Conductor under Sang Hu.

In truth, Sang Hu was not truly a priest; he was merely a pawn placed by the Wild King within the Conductor group. The one beside Geremu was, strictly speaking, the actual leader of the snow plain Conductors.

"The falcon shows no signs of anything unusual," the Conductor said. "It confirms the Yan's main general has indeed come out."

He continued, "Geremu, tell me, if we were to kill that Yan general now, wouldn't Snow Sea Pass be easily breached?"

Geremu shook his head. "No. If we kill that Yan general now, the Yan Army inside will know they have no path of retreat. They will fight to the death because the snow plains are at their backs; they'll have nowhere else to go. However, I am concerned that the Yan general on the other side might be thinking the same thing as you."

The Conductor laughed. "Geremu, you yourself are a Fifth Rank martial artist, and you have my protection. Do you still need to worry about that?"

"I am afraid of death. I truly am. I have yet to witness the rise of the Holy Tribe, yet to see my family's renown spread once more. I am not ready to die. Besides, there's a saying among the Jin people: 'Fear not the ten thousand possibilities, but the one in ten thousand chance.'"

"How could there be so many 'one in ten thousand chances'? With the protection of my Starfall, there are truly few in this world who can break through it."

"So there are still some?"

"Once, when that Sword Saint of the Jin people came to our snow plains, he broke through it. That was the only time. But surely you're not suggesting that the Sword Saint, with his sky-high pride, would end up like me, carrying a flag for that Yan general—the very same one who conquered half of his Jin State, right?"