Rise of a Lonely City: From Exiled Prince to Ruler of the Nine Provinces

On the ninth day of the tenth month of the sixth year of Xuanji, at the third quarter of the hour of Mao (5:45 AM), it was sunny.

North of the city, outside the newly established "Military Training Ground," the open fields within a radius of ten miles have been dyed a somber black and a fiery red.

An army of 100,000 was arrayed here.

There was no noise, only the sound of the wind whipping the banners, the fine clang of armor rubbing against each other, and the occasional snorting of warhorses.

The military formation stood solemnly like a mountain, its swords and spears like a forest, reflecting a cold and hard light in the chilly morning light of late autumn.

From left to right, it's a sea of ​​military formations:

On the far left were a full 50,000 elite cavalry.

They were divided into several huge square formations according to their respective battalions and brigades.

Everyone was dressed in modified, lightweight chainmail or leather armor, covered with a red battle coat, carrying a powerful bow on their back, a long sword at their waist, and quivers and maces hanging beside their saddles.

The warhorses were magnificent, all of them fine steeds from Hequ and Hexi, their hooves lightly pawing the ground, their breath exhaling white mist.

This is the sharp edge of the Great Xia Dynasty's founding, and the arrow about to be used to lure the enemy and launch a surprise attack.

Zhang Meng, fully armored and holding his sword hilt, stood at the forefront of the cavalry formation. His face beneath his bushy beard was as if cast in iron, and his gaze was fixed on the high platform in front of him.

The central army was the main force of 40,000 infantry and cavalry.

The front rank consisted of heavily armored infantry, fully equipped with iron helmets and halberds, wielding spears and halberds, like a steel jungle; behind them were archers, carrying quivers on their backs and arrow quivers at their waists; and on the flanks were even more light cavalry guards.

Banners fluttered in the air, and various general's flags and camp flags billowed in the wind.

Prince Dashan of England, dressed in simple, bright armor and covered with a scarlet cloak, stood with his hand on his sword beneath the central army banner. His white hair was sparse, yet he was as steady as a mountain.

Behind him stood a cloud of generals and officers, including Li Gan, the General of the Flying Cavalry, who was entrusted with the important task of drawing the enemy's attention head-on. He stroked his riding whip, his eyes burning with a warlike light.

On the far right is a particularly eye-catching unit—the 10,000-strong Divine Machine Battalion.

They were not wearing heavy iron armor, but uniform dark blue cotton armor, with hats and marching packs on their backs, and their ranks were exceptionally orderly.

At the forefront were five thousand musketeers, carrying new flintlock muskets on their shoulders, the barrels gleaming with a cold, eerie blue light in the morning sun.

Behind them was the artillery corps, more than a hundred "Tiger Crouching" light cannons pulled by mules and horses, their barrels covered with gun covers, silently concealing destructive power.

Commander of this army was Yang Zhen, a middle-aged general with a calm face and sharp eyes. He stood silently at the front of the battle, as if he had become one with the cold firearms.

The 100,000-strong army seemed to breathe as one, forming an invisible, suffocating pressure that made the onlookers in the distance subconsciously hold their breath.

The crowd consisted of ordinary citizens of the capital who had spontaneously gathered, as well as the families of officials, merchants, and artisans who had not yet completed their relocation.

They crowded outside the boundary marked by the military formation, standing on tiptoe and craning their necks to look at the unprecedentedly magnificent military formation, their faces a mixture of awe, excitement, worry, and anticipation.

An elderly woman with white hair was chanting Buddhist mantras in a low voice, while a young man was so excited that his face turned red and his fists clenched.

"Thump—thump—thump—thump—"

The deep and powerful sound of war drums rose from the drum arrays on both sides of the high platform, like the heartbeat of a giant, shaking the earth and striking the hearts of everyone.

The drumbeats grew faster and more frequent.

Suddenly, all sounds, including the sound of the wind, seemed to freeze for a moment.

"His Majesty has arrived!"

A long, sharp shout shattered the silence.

At the end of the training ground, on the command platform, which was three zhang high, built of logs, and covered with flags, a group of people appeared.

The leader was dressed in dazzling golden chainmail, covered by a bright yellow dragon-patterned battle robe, wearing a golden crown and with an emperor's sword hanging at his waist.

It was Xiao Chen.

He did not ride in the imperial carriage, but instead walked steadily up the steps, the armor plates making a regular and crisp clanging sound with each step.

Sunlight fell on him, and his golden armor reflected a light so intense it was almost blinding, making him appear like a god descended from heaven.

Han Yu, Zheng Huaijin, and other senior officials who remained in charge were all dressed in court attire and stood solemnly to the side of the platform.

The generals who led the expedition, including Prince Dashan of England, General Li Gan of the Flying Cavalry, and Yang Zhen, the commander of the Divine Machine Battalion, had returned from their respective battle lines and stood solemnly below the platform with their hands on their swords.

Xiao Chen ascended to the center of the high platform, facing the 100,000-strong army and countless civilians.

He didn't speak immediately, but instead used his calm yet sharp gaze to slowly sweep over the faces of the soldiers below the stage—some young, some weathered, some excited, some resolute—and over the forest of swords and spears and the clouds of banners.

The wind whipped the huge, black banner behind him, embroidered with a golden dragon soaring through the clouds, making it flutter loudly.

"Soldiers!"

Xiao Chen spoke.

The sound wasn't particularly loud or strained, yet it strangely pierced through the wind and drumbeats, clearly reaching the ears of everyone present, as if it were right next to them.

"Today, you are all here, in armor, with swords and spears in your hands. Do you know why?"

The audience was completely silent, with only tens of thousands of eyes focused on him.

"Because those northern barbarians, treacherous and disloyal, have invaded our territory, slaughtered our people, and plundered our wealth!"

Xiao Chen's voice suddenly rose, carrying a metallic clang, "Their hooves shattered the fortresses in the clouds! Their swords and arrows stained the walls of Yanmen Pass red! Their wild laughter awoke the sleeping infants on the frontier! Their ambition is to once again ignite the flames of war across the northern border of my Great Xia!"

Every word was like a heavy hammer blow, striking the hearts of the soldiers.

Many soldiers from the border towns had anger spitting out in their eyes, their fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

"They thought that my newly established Great Xia Dynasty was easily defeated! They thought that my soldiers would only cower behind the city walls in fear! They thought that by looting and killing, they could return to the grasslands to live a carefree life, just like their ancestors, carrying our blood, tears, and wealth!"

Xiao Chen suddenly took a step forward, pointed north, and shouted sharply:

"Tell me! Tell them! Is it possible?!"

"No! No! No!!"

The army of 100,000 roared like a mountain collapsing and a tsunami crashing down, the sound waves soaring into the sky and making the ears of the onlookers ring, their blood boiling with excitement.

"good!"

After the commotion subsided, Xiao Chen suddenly grabbed a proclamation from the tray held high by his attendant and read it aloud:

"I, by the mandate of Heaven, govern the land of China. The Ashina clan of the Northern Di, originally wild chieftains of a remote region, have received my grace, being granted permission to trade and bestowed with wealth. Yet their leader, Duoji, is a wolf by nature, a beast in heart, showing no gratitude but instead displaying his ferocity, gathering his vile followers to invade my borders, slaughter my soldiers and civilians, burn my dwellings, and plunder my livestock… He is hated by both gods and men, and intolerable to Heaven and Earth!"

The proclamation was sharply worded, enumerating the crimes of the Northern Barbarians and declaring the righteousness of the Great Xia's military intervention.

With each line recited, the killing intent of the soldiers below the stage intensified.

"I, by the mandate of Heaven and in accordance with the will of the people, now dispatch heavenly troops to punish the guilty and avenge the wicked! All my soldiers, you must fight bravely and charge into battle, sweeping away their strongholds and destroying their very existence!"

Finally, Xiao Chen slammed the proclamation shut, his gaze sharp as lightning sweeping across the entire army. With all his might, he roared out a battle cry that would be etched into history:

"Kou Kewang—"

He paused, then his voice resonated throughout the world:

"I—am also—able to—go!"

"Moreover, we must go further! And strike harder! Let them remember forever that those who offend our Great Xia—"

"No matter how far away, they shall be punished! No matter how strong, they shall be slaughtered! No matter how numerous, they shall be annihilated!"

"Slay! Annihilate! Slay! Annihilate! Annihilate! Slay! Annihilate!"

The emotions of the 100,000 soldiers were completely ignited. They slammed their swords and spears into the ground, pounded their shields against their chests, and let out rhythmic, deafening roars, which merged into a steel torrent that could destroy everything.

Even the warhorses neighed, as if sensing the overwhelming fighting spirit.

Xiao Chen raised his hand to suppress the boiling clamor. He slowly picked up a smaller but more exquisite dragon flag from beside him—the flag was jet black, and the dragon pattern embroidered with gold thread was so lifelike that it seemed to be about to burst out of the flag.

"Zhang Meng!" he shouted in a deep voice.

"Your subordinate is here!"

Below the stage, Zhang Meng took a step forward, knelt on one knee, and roared like thunder.

Xiao Chen held the flag in both hands, walked to the edge of the platform, and solemnly handed it down: "I hereby bestow this vanguard dragon flag upon you! I hope you will hold this flag, clear the way for me and for Great Xia, and strike straight at the heart of the enemy! As long as the flag is there, the vanguard is there! Where the flag points, the army will advance!"

"Your humble servant obeys! The flag stands, the man stands; the flag falls, the man dies!"

Zhang Meng stretched out his hands, which were trembling slightly with excitement, and took the heavy dragon flag. He raised it high and waved it vigorously towards his cavalry formation!

"Victory! Victory! Victory!"

The cheers of the vanguard cavalry were the first to rise, and then spread throughout the entire army.

Xiao Chen then looked at Duke Wang Dashan of England: "Duke Wang Dashan!"

"Your humble servant is here!"

"I hereby appoint you as the Deputy Commander-in-Chief of the Northern Expedition, overseeing the rear, commanding all armies, protecting our supply lines, and stabilizing our position! My future is entrusted to you!"

"This old minister will not fail in his mission!" Wang Dashan clasped his hands and bowed, his white hair fluttering in the wind.

"General Li Gan!"

"Your subordinate is here!"

"The frontal enemy is now in your hands! Keep them pinned down, entangle them, and create an opportunity for me to strike directly into their lair!"

"Your Majesty, rest assured! This humble general will ensure that the little brat Duji has no time to spare for anything else!" Li Gan's voice boomed like a bell.

"Yang Zhen, Commander of the Divine Machine Battalion!"

"Your subordinate is here!" The calm general stepped forward.

"This battle is the first test of your new tactics. Let the jackals of the grasslands hear the thunderous roar of my Great Xia!"

"Your humble servant obeys! I will not fail His Majesty, nor will I fail this powerful weapon!" A burning light flashed in Yang Zhen's eyes.

"Soldiers of the three armed forces!"

Xiao Chen faced the entire army one last time, drew his Emperor's Sword from his waist, and pointed it diagonally to the northern sky, "Marching out! Objective—"

"Langjuxu Mountain! Capture and kill Duoji!"

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Amidst the earth-shattering roar, the war drums thundered once more, their rapid rhythm like the footsteps of a marching warrior.

"Waaaaah—waaaah—"

The deep, desolate sound of bugles rang out continuously, spreading across the fields.

"Let's go!"

The command flag was waved.

Led by Zhang Meng and the fluttering dragon banner, the vanguard cavalry at the very front moved slowly like a flood bursting its banks. The sound of their hooves was initially muffled, but soon it turned into a thunderous roar.

The central and rear armies were activated in sequence.

The artillery carriages of the Shenji Battalion creaked and groaned as they joined the torrent of steel.

The crowd erupted in even louder cheers, some calling out the names of their loved ones, some shouting "Victory!", and some throwing prepared dry food, shoes, and socks at the procession.

The child rides on his father's shoulders, waving a small flag.

The entire eastern suburbs of Shenjing were filled with a tragic yet stirring atmosphere.

Xiao Chen stood on the high platform, watching the army, like a black dragon, meander northward.

His gaze was far-reaching, as if it had traversed thousands of mountains and rivers.

Behind him, in the shadows, Han Lie, the commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, quietly appeared and whispered, "Your Majesty, the message has been sent out as planned. The north will receive intelligence that 'His Majesty is on a border inspection tour and will return upon reaching Taiyuan.'"

Xiao Chen nodded slightly, a cold smile curving his lips.

"Patrolling the border? Yes, I am going to patrol the border."

He whispered, so that only Han Lie beside him could hear him, "However, what I want to inspect is the Onon River, the Langjuxu Mountain, and Ashina Duoji's—Golden Horde!"

The dragon flag fluttered wildly, and the north wind was fierce.

The empire's war machine has already been set in motion.

And the roles of hunter and prey are quietly being reversed amidst the billowing smoke.