The Rise of Phoenixes-Chapter 235

Zong Chen’s swimming experts shot out of the water like spry fish, appearing amidst the Golden Roc and Pixiu Tribe riders and chopping at the horse legs. Crippled animals collapsed and caused chaos among the ranks, throwing the enemy formation into disorder as Helian Zheng and his Eight Valiants charged.

A furious and vengeful Helian Zheng cut through his enemies as if they were tofu, he and his famous Eight Valiants like whirling dervishes spinning through the enemy lines, mowing down his foes and dyeing the steppe with blood.

The Pixiu Tribe had always been the weakest of the twelve tribes, never able to contest their way out of the steppe borderlands. The Golden Roc Tribe were occupied on multiple fronts in their fight for steppe supremacy, so they had not sent their entire force to capture or kill Helian Zheng. The Golden Roc Chieftain had assumed that the returning prince would have few guards, and that Feng Zhiwei’s escort team would be hampered by the river crossing.

Their plan had been to kill Helian Zheng and Feng Zhiwei’s forces as they straggled over the water in waves. It was a good plan, and fear of just such an occurrence was why Feng Zhiwei and Helian Zheng had not wanted to cross during the night.

But the Golden Roc Tribe could not have known of Feng Zhiwei’s personal men. Though she commanded few numbers, those who swore allegiance to her were all experts in some field. Together, they were a small, well-trained army.

And all of that was without even mentioning Gu Nanyi.

Young Master Gu calmly followed Helian Zheng, strolling along with his baby in his arms. As a large group of ferocious Golden Roc warriors yelled and charged Helian Zheng, Young Master Gu just waved a hand. Most of the enemy fell dead not even knowing what had hit them.

As the rosy fingers of dawn quietly lit up the sky, the small battle came to its inevitable conclusion.

The Golden Roc Chieftain had arrived just in time to witness the Queen’s escape, and now he led his routing men in a retreat. Unfortunately for the Pixiu Tribe, this was their home and they had nowhere to run. Most survivors surrendered.

The quiet sun glinted over the pools of blood and bespattered grass, vital life dripping down from the green into the rich, black soil.

This stretch of steppe would flourish come spring.

Helian Zheng walked slowly among the corpses, the smoke from the smoldering fires not able to hide his deep, calm eyes. His purple irises turned towards the prisoners kneeling at his feet as his long, golden robe swept through the steppe grass.

“Tucha.” He finally said, stopping before one of the men. “We have been friends since our youth. You beat me in riding and shooting, and we said that your daughter would marry my son. My son is still unborn, and you are already planning to kill your daughter’s father-in-law?”

Tucha looked up, his face covered with tears.

“Irgi, I was wrong, I was tricked by Hongji La Golden Roc! The.... Our Pixiu tribe has not had good land for many years, and everything was taken by the Fire Fox Tribe. Hongji La promised he’d give us half of the Northern Steppe... Irgi. I betrayed you, and I deserve death, but! Please, for our past friendship, spare my people’s women and children!”

Behind him, the women and children of the tribe wept, kowtowing to Helian Zheng.

Helian Zheng stared down at the man, hands clasped behind his back. He nodded solemnly, saying: “You know what you must do.”

Tucha grit his teeth and lifted his sabre, plunging it into his own chest.

All the Pixiu Tribesmen followed silently, dozens of bright blades gleaming against the blue steppe sky. Blood fountained, splashing out.

Weeping filled the heavens.

Helian Zheng watched calmly, not moving even as the blood pooled up to his boots.

He looked up to the clouds, eyeing an almost eagle high above. Quiet but firm, he announced:

“Kill them all.”

“Cha!”

Blades flashed as the slaughter began. Blood and more blood.

The weeping ended.

Feng Zhiwei stood silently in the distance, her hands clasped behind her.

The steppes demanded vengeance. They had all chosen this life. If mercy was had, the children here would rise up in the future to avenge their father’s death.

Prisoners of war had no protection out here. Roots are dug up after the weeds are cut.

Tucha had hoped that Helian Zheng was still his generous and tolerant brother, the man who had hunted with him, never jealous over his catch.

But... that was when they were brothers.

Truthfully, when the Queen and the Prince had aired their scandals, their enemies had already been doomed.

The honor and dignity of the Steppe King’s Family was sacrosanct.

Only the dead told no tales.

“Of the United Twelve Tribes, only eleven remain.” Helian Zheng murmured. “Which tribe will die next?’

“Son!” Liu Mudan called out, still sopping wet. She paid no attention to the limbless corpses and decapitated heads as she continued: “Don’t kill Kereyid, he’s quite good looking...”

Helian Zheng pushed his lecherous mother aside, shoving her into Feng Zhiwei’s embrace.

“Who are you?” Liu Mudan questioned, turning towards Feng Zhiwei and sizing her up. The woman stared down at her breasts appraisingly and then unashamedly turned to her hips, her eyes sweeping up and down and flashing with realization. “Oh, you’re that... Ying Ying Princess from the Imperial Court. Heavens! Why are you so skinny? Ji Dog couldn’t be like his dad, unable to control himself and using you every night?”

“Liu Mudan!” Helian Zheng cried out angrily. “Piss off!”

“You piss off!” The woman shouted back, marching over to a tent and sitting down. She pointed at her own nose as she exclaimed. “This Queen is training your wife, why is a man like you interrupting?”

“You.” She curled her finger, beckoning Feng Zhiwei. “Why are you still standing and not kowtowing to your mother-in-law?”

This “mother-in-law” sat on her “throne,” dignified and gorgeous as she summoned her servant.

The Lady Liu Mudan squatted on a blue stone propped up against the tent, her leather robes wet and muddy and green with grass smears. Her top was red and her skirt was green with a jarring yellow waistband around her middle. She curled her finger, beckoning the honored Princess, the current Shunyi King’s Queen, demanding that she kowtow.

As soon as the words left her mouth, at least a dozen of those within earshot seriously considered coming over and bludgeoning her with her stone.