Ze Tian Ji-Chapter 1137 – The Distant Horsehooves, the Songs of Grief

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Chapter 1137 – The Distant Horsehooves, the Songs of Grief


Translated by: Hypersheep325


Edited by: Michyrr


Tang Thirty-Six had gone to the front line.


Of course, he wasn't going to be part of the vanguard. No one would agree to that, and he didn't have the ability for it.


The role he would play in this war was one of logistics. To be more precise, he was Jin Yulu's deputy.


Chen Changsheng's trip to White Emperor City had not been able to make the demi-humans completely sign on with the humans, but he had at least managed to free Jin Yulu from his life of agriculture.


This legendary demi-human general was soon to play the important role that he had played several hundred years ago.


All the supply wagons the Imperial Court sent to the front lines, the rations, the weapons, the aid from the various counties and provinces, and the contributions from the noble clans and merchant companies were all under his control.


His deputy was also of utmost importance.


Logically speaking, Tang Thirty-Six's background was not sufficient, at least not enough to convince everyone, but no one objected to his appointment.


This was not because of Tang Thirty-Six's background, or because he was willing to risk the honor and glory that came from being a young master of a great clan to venture to the front lines. It was because of the Tang clan's contribution to the war fund.


Liang Wangsun had contributed half his clan's fortune for the war, and so had the Wenshui Tangs.


It was also half a clan's fortune, but only by seeing it personally could one understand how terrifying the Tang clan's deed was.


Because half of the Tang clan's fortune was a monstrously terrifying number.


Even the experienced officials from the Ministry of Revenue were stunned speechless when they saw the ledgers that required ten-some carriages to fully deliver.


The entire continent knew that the Tang clan was the richest place in the world, with extremely deep foundational resources and the richest of stockpiles.


But only now did the common people learn just how much money the Tang clan had.


'Wealthier than a country' was truly not empty praise.


The Tang Old Master was truly an extraordinary person.


Someone who was wealthier than a country would often become the enemy of the country.


This was a law that was hard to defy and the source of many tragedies.


When the details of this matter became known, many people wondered whether the Tang clan wanted to avoid touching upon the taboo of the Imperial Court by using this method to lessen its hostility.


Half of its fortune was truly a vast sum, and parting with it was as painful as cutting off one's own arm, but it was worth it as long as the Tang clan could remain.


This conjecture seemed very reasonable, but Chen Changsheng didn't think so.


Breaking into Xuelao City and subjugating the demons was the Tang Old Master's lifelong wish, the one thing he wanted to do in the last several centuries.


In this aspect, he and Shang Xingzhou were natural allies, the firmest of comrades. Nothing could change their minds.


One could even say that he had lived for this day.


As long as the humans could thoroughly defeat the demons, what did he care for his clan's fortune?


If he hadn't had to think about his descendants and the continuation of his clan, he probably would have invested the entire fortune of the Tang clan in this war.


What would it feel like to be the grandson of an old man like this?


Chen Changsheng gazed at the plume of dust rising from the plain, his lips curling into a smile.


Tang Thirty-Six was riding a white horse and dressed in white while the Wenshui Sword was tied to his belt. He was very elegant and graceful.


He had not said anything to Chen Changsheng, nor had he indicated that Chen Changsheng should take care of himself, because victory was certain in this war.


Just like Mountain Man Yanzhi said, the momentum of the world was decided.


The momentum of the Demon race had already come to a stop.


Just like the Tang Old Master and Liang Wangsun, the Human race was willing to pay everything, renounce all their grudges, so that they could win this war.


The human world had been waiting all this time for this day.


The Human race had prepared ages upon ages for this war.


In terms of supplies and the transferring of soldiers, it was ten years.


In terms of strategies and planning, it was several centuries.


In terms of will and spirit, it was several thousand years.


Countless sages, countless martyrs, every Emperor, every Pope… everything they did was for today.


This undercurrent had been surging for countless days, and as the situation changed, it had finally become a spring tide.


The Demon race, once overlords of the continent, were now struggling on death's door in the north, barely muddling through their days, so they had not even noticed any of this. Even if some of the soberer of their elite noticed this, like the young Demon Lord or Mountain Man Yanzhi, too little time had been left for them, and the Demon race internally was far too much of a mess.


Whenever he thought about the Demon race's circumstances, Chen Changsheng would rejoice, but there would always be some confusion. And then he remembered Shang Xingzhou's words from Luoyang.


Perhaps that person recognized that they were still a human?


As he gazed at plume after plume of dust rising from the plains and sensed a faint quaking, Chen Changsheng had no more time to ponder that question.


Was the quaking the distant horsehooves or his own heartbeat?


He felt like his heart was beating faster, but there was no reason.


Was it because the curtain of this grand war was about to be torn open?


The demons would lose and the humans would win. Everything had already been decided.


But we still have to work for it, truly put forth all our effort, in order to gain true victory.


When he thought of the coming days, about how much blood would be spilled by these young men and women leaving Xunyang City, how many sacrifices would be made…


Even someone as calm as him felt his cheeks turn hot.


……


……


The valley in the late spring was covered in blood.


The lower-class demon soldiers were even uglier in death, and stenches rose from their corpses scattered amongst the grass. The plains were still not too hot, but if enough time passed, they would still inevitably rot.


At the beginning, the human armies would use array masters to clear the battlefield. After the conclusion of each battle on the plains, one would be able to see the clear light from the arrays and the ensuing flames. Later on, as more and more demon soldiers died, as the war grew increasingly tense, this duty was no longer asked of the array masters so that they could conserve their energy.


The temporary camp had been set up at a high point, but the so-called valley was really just a rolling meadow, so their position really couldn't be described as unassailable.


Twilight painted the distant plains and nearby carts. The smoke from the cooking fires was already extinguished and bonfires began to gradually brighten. Someone began to sing a grief-stricken song, though all this did was incur a chorus of curses.


Liang Hongzhuang leaned against the wheel of a cart, watching through squinted eyes as the sun sank. The stalk of grass in his mouth trembled.


He naturally wasn't wearing his red dancing dress, and he also wasn't wearing any makeup. He had always had a handsome appearance, especially his inky brows. They were shaped like slender hooks, their charming appearance imbued with a heroic air. His natural elegance had attracted many stares when he first stepped onto the battlefield, but now, no one dared to say anything.


In this army, he had the strongest cultivation level, had killed the most soldiers, and had the most injuries.


A deep wound had been cut beneath his ribs. One could see white bone through the chinks in the bandage and smell the scent of decay.


A person sat next to him, a mocking smile appearing on his face as he looked at the corpses of the lower-class demons strewn across the grass.


"After so many days, we haven't seen one high-class demon. Were they all killed by the old Demon Lord?"


The one speaking was Feng Guijun. He had been Governor of Xunyang City for several decades, but now he was a general on the front lines.


When he heard Liang Hongzhuang speaking to the Pope that night, he vaguely understood what his end would be.


But he hadn't expected that he would end up in the same place on the front lines as Liang Hongzhuang, nor did he know if this had been the Pope's will or the Holy Maiden's arrangement.


Liang Hongzhuang ignored him.


Feng Guijun jeered, "The Imperial Court wanted to send me to my death to repay the Liang Estate for half its fortune, but what about you? Why didn't your elder brother come but instead sent you to your death?"


Yes, from a certain perspective, being sent to this part of the plain was being sent to death. Although the humans now occupied the absolute advantage, with the demon soldiers' death toll being twice that of the human soldiers'… people would still die, especially now that many people noticed that the circumstances were rather strange.


Feng Guijun's jeers came mostly from his unease.


Upon entering the plains, the human armies had encountered many of the demon troops, engaging them in many intense battles.


They quickly began to notice something strange.


Other than an extremely small number of officers, no high-class demons had been spotted in these battles.


They hadn't even spotted a hair of the Demon race's most formidable wolf cavalry. It was like they had disappeared.


The troops surging toward the human army like a tide were all the lowest class of demon soldier.


The minds of these low-class demons developed slowly, and they could be called stupid. Even though they possessed an enormous strength that surpassed that of an ordinary human, the crossbows and array masters of the human armies made them nothing but targets for massacre. They normally weren't that hard to deal with.


The problem was that the lower-class demon soldiers the human armies encountered now were different.


Now, they were braver, their personalities even more violent, their methods even crueler. They seemed to have no fear of death.


If one said that the lower-class demon soldiers were of somewhat lower intelligence in the past, they had now lost any sort of awareness, and transformed into tools purely meant for killing.


The countless low-class demons were unafraid of death, and if one fell, another would charge to take their place. This placed a massive pressure on the human armies, both militarily and mentally.


The army that Feng Guijun led had suffered grievous casualties, and it was hard to say how long they would be able to last.


Similar circumstances were probably taking place all over this plain.


Liang Hongzhuang said, "It's probably some sort of medicine that's made these ugly fellows lose their mind, making them only come here to seek their deaths."


Many people had speculated this, but they couldn't understand why the demons had resorted to such extreme methods even though the war had just begun.


Such a medicine was bound to have devastating side effects. They were probably so severe that the moment those demon soldiers took this medicine, their lives would begin burning away.


As Feng Guijun gazed at the deepening twilight, the grief in his eyes deepened as well. He muttered, "Just what do the demons want to do?"


From a certain standpoint, he had truly been sent to his death by the Imperial Court so as to soothe the Liang Estate's old grudge.


But he had still been the Governor of Xunyang City for several decades and was now a general on the front lines.


Liang Hongzhuang proposed, "The demons want to frighten us into retreating."


Feng Guijun blankly gazed at him for a moment. He understood, a bitter smile appearing on his face.


They were the most forward army of the vanguard.


If this really was the Demon race's strategy, they were bound to suffer an endless stream of attacks.


Either the commander would order a retreat, or one side would be slaughtered to a man.


"Tell me, since we've all been sent to our deaths, what do we need to be afraid of?"


Liang Hongzhuang added, "And even if we die now, we've still earned a profit."


Since the start of the war, he had already killed thirty-some demon soldiers, and the soldiers led by Feng Guijun had already killed three times their number. They truly had earned a profit.


Feng Guijun said no more.


Liang Hongzhuang spit out the stalk of grass and began to sing a song of grief.


Curses rose once more from his surroundings, but this time, he didn't stop.


Liang Hongzhuang's singing voice was rather strange. It was very deep and lingering, just like the rivers slowly flowing through these plains.


"I've been listening to operas in Xunyang City for so many years. I've always felt like your singing style was rather strange, but I've never asked you about it."


Feng Guijun asked, "Just which school are you a part of? The Jin clan of Luling or Orangewater Tent?"


Liang Hongzhuang replied, "I heard that this is the singing style of the operas in Xuelao City."


Feng Guijun was stunned. Pointing at the corpses scattered over the plains, he asked, "These things can understand it?"


Liang Hongzhuang shook his head. "I don't know."


The night sky resounded with the warning from a Red Falcon bringing urgent orders.


The nearest divisions of the human army were all under attack.


And the primary focus of the enemy attacks was this part of the plains.


The ground shook.


The twilight deepened into darkness.


Countless demon soldiers were surging out from the darkness.


Feng Guijun knew that this battle would last for the entire night, and he couldn't stop his face from paling. "Will we be able to see the sun rise tomorrow?"


Liang Hongzhuang stood up and looked at the night sky. "The stars are very beautiful tonight."


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