Governing the country, enriching the people, an unparalleled imperial tutor

The next day, at dusk.

A muffled drumbeat suddenly resounded across the open fields outside Jizhou City.

Lin Yanzhou was examining Zhao Lingxi's left shoulder wound in her tent. While changing the dressing, he noticed that the edges of the wound under the gauze were no longer as red and swollen as they had been three days ago, and the tissue around the sutures had returned to its normal light pink color, indicating that the inflammation was subsiding—the antibiotics were working.

The moment the drumbeats sounded, Zhao Lingxi's half-closed eyes snapped open. She braced herself against the edge of the bed, trying to sit up, but the wound on her left shoulder was pulled, causing her to wince in pain. However, she gritted her teeth and didn't utter a sound.

"The enemy has arrived." Her voice was hoarse but clear. "Help me up, I want to go up to the city wall."

Lin Yanzhou pressed down on her uninjured right shoulder: "You can barely stand, what are you going to do on the city wall?"

"I am the commander-in-chief." Zhao Lingxi looked up at him, her eyes burning with an unyielding stubbornness. "With 300,000 enemy troops pressing in, what does it matter if the commander-in-chief lies in his tent—"

"The commander-in-chief is recuperating in her tent," Lin Yanzhou interrupted her, "while her husband goes out to keep the enemy in check."

Zhao Lingxi glared at him, her lips moved as if she wanted to retort, but her wound was hurting again, and her hands gripped the edge of the military blanket, she was indeed too weak to fight.

Lin Yanzhou rolled up the old gauze he had taken off and threw it into the brazier. He stood up, straightened his collar, and said in a calm and unhurried voice, "Just lie there and relax. I'm an immortal. Dealing with a few bandits in the mortal realm is a piece of cake for me. Just wait here and don't move."

Zhao Lingxi looked at him, her anxiety still evident, but her reckless drive had indeed subsided somewhat. She knew he was right; in her current state, she would only be a burden on the city wall.

"Then sir, go and come back quickly," she said.

As Lin Yanzhou reached the tent entrance, he turned back, looked at her, and suddenly added, "Do you know what 'sir' means in my hometown? If I manage to deal with those 300,000 people outside the city, you have to kiss me when I get back."

Zhao Lingxi paused for a moment. A very faint blush rose on her pale face, spreading from her ears to her cheeks. She seemed to want to say something but didn't. In the end, she just turned her head away, buried the lower half of her face in the military blanket, and said in a muffled voice, "...You should sort things out first."

Lin Yanzhou chuckled and lifted the curtain to leave the tent. As the curtain fell, he heard a very soft mutter behind him: "What kind of immortal bargains with mortals..."

He didn't turn back, striding towards the city wall. Zhou Chongyuan ran towards him, already fully armored, his sword drawn half an inch from his waist before being sheathed: "Grand Preceptor! The main force of the rebel army has arrived at the city! Zhang Lin is personally overseeing the battle, and the three Khans are all at the front!"

"Don't panic, these people are idiots. They're just launching a night attack, why are they beating drums and shouting orders? They're complete morons. Let's go take a look."

Upon reaching the top of the city wall, the view suddenly opened up. On the gray-yellow wilderness outside Jizhou City, countless figures were spreading out, like ashes scattered by the wind on the wasteland. Black flags fluttered in the distance, with a large banner hanging high in the center, embroidered with the four characters "By the Mandate of Heaven, Punish the Rebels".

Several hundred riders formed a horizontal line at the front. In the center, on a chestnut horse, sat an old man in a purple robe, with white hair and beard, and a thin build; this was Zhang Lin. To his left and right were three riders each, each with their own banner and different attire—the one on the left was a burly man with a round face and a thick beard, with three curved swords hanging at his waist; this was Ashina Gule, the Left Khan of the Northern Barbarians. The one on the right rode a black horse, with a solemn face, a hooked nose, and sharp eyes; this was Huyan Lie, the Central Khan. A little behind was a short, stocky horse with a gray beard, an old man with lowered eyes, as if he had come along reluctantly; this was Yuwen Tuo, the Right Khan.

Zhang Lin spurred his horse forward two steps, reined in it, and looked up at the city wall. His voice was amplified by several messengers in turn, carrying far up the city wall.

"Lin Yanzhou!" Zhang Lin's voice was filled with a long-suppressed joy finally bursting forth. "You mysterious fiend! You falsely claim to be the Mandate of Heaven, bewitch the young emperor, and wreak havoc on the court! Today, I will lead 300,000 troops to purge the emperor's inner circle and restore order to the court! If you know what's good for you, surrender the city immediately, and I will spare your life out of consideration for your talent!"

Lin Yanzhou stood on the city wall, looking down at the purple-robed old man in front of the formation, without saying a word.

Seeing no response from the city walls, Zhang Lin added, "Look at these 300,000 troops below! Do you think you can hold out for more than a few days with your charlatanry? Jizhou City is running out of food and supplies, and there are no reinforcements from outside. If you continue to resist, you'll only be courting death! Quickly open the city gates and surrender!"

After he finished speaking, a muffled shout rang out from the front lines. The cavalry of the Northern Barbarian Left Wing slapped their saddles with their scimitars, creating a chaotic sound, like a pack of wild beasts restless under their control.

Lin Yanzhou didn't respond to his words. He turned around and took out the prepared black object from his pocket: a high-powered flashlight, fully charged, with a maximum setting of 1 lumens.

He pointed his flashlight at the densest array below the city, pressed the switch, and thought: Let you bastards see my magical artifact.

A ghastly white beam of light slashed down from the city wall, like a spear of light falling from the sky, piercing into the herd of horses in front of the Northern Di army. The light was something otherworldly—a white flame of thirty thousand lumens, like solidified lightning in the twilight darkness, illuminated every face of the hundreds of riders in front of the army, revealing even the dust on the horses' eyelashes in minute detail.

The commotion outside the city began with the horses.

The horses in the front row suddenly reared up, neighing in terror, and turned tail, trying to retreat. The horses in the second row, caught in the chaos, began to collide and trample each other. The cavalrymen at the front desperately pulled on their reins; some were thrown from their saddles by the sudden turn of their horses, falling to the ground and before they could even get up, their calves were trampled by the hooves of horses behind them, letting out a piercing scream.

Wherever the beam of light swept across, chaos erupted. A dappled horse on the left was so terrified that it dropped to its knees, throwing its rider to the ground. The soldier landed face-up in the mud, the beam shining directly into his face—he covered his eyes with his hands, letting out a barely audible howl, and scrambled backward. Several warhorses in the center turned tail and galloped wildly, crashing through the infantry ranks behind them. Several messengers were dragged by their horses for over ten paces before being pulled back.

As the beam of light swept across Ashina Gule's chestnut horse, the beast suddenly reared up, letting out a drawn-out neigh. Ashina Gule clung tightly to the horse's mane to avoid being thrown off, but the three curved swords at his waist clattered together, making a chaotic and pathetic sight. Huyan Lie's black horse was also startled and stumbled backward. This warhorse, known for its steadiness, now thrashed about frantically, its nostrils flaring with heavy white breath. Yuwen Tuo's old dappled horse reared up completely, nearly throwing the aged Khan off his saddle.

The infantry ranks at the front completely crumbled. Some threw down their spears and turned to run, some lay on the ground with their hands covering their heads, and some knelt down facing the white light from the city wall, their foreheads pressed tightly against the cold ground, muttering prayers that no one could understand. Even Zhang Lin's chestnut horse retreated three or four steps. He tightened the reins, his face ashen, and for the first time, an uncontrollable terror appeared in his cloudy old eyes.

Where the light swept, some of the Northern Di soldiers shielded their eyes with their arms and ducked to avoid it, while others tumbled off their horses and scrambled into the nearby bushes. A young cavalryman's scimitar flew out of his hand—it twirled twice in the air before landing on the ground, its blade humming as it stuck into the mud. Its owner was huddled ten paces away, clutching his head and too afraid to look up at the city tower.

The entire army of 300,000 men remained completely silent for nearly ten breaths. Only the horses, startled by the light, continued to snort and paw at each other restlessly.

Lin Yanzhou turned off the flashlight.

A deeper, more profound silence descended upon the city. After the beam of light vanished, the area that had been illuminated felt as if it had been branded with a hot iron; all the Northern Di soldiers instinctively avoided that area, as if the light still lingered with some unseen warmth. Some drew their tribal symbols on their chests, others whispered unknown prayers, and several kneeling soldiers remained seated.

The black figure on the city wall and the "immortal artifact" that had been extinguished but still retained heat became the only place where everyone's eyes were focused.