Encountering a Snake - Chapter 32

v2c32

 

When Yelü De’e decided to deploy troops, he had already considered the possibility of being surrounded in turn once his forces besieged Fengming Ridge. However, he had calculated the distances; even if an opposing army attempted to surround him, it would take them a full day and night. That time would be enough for him to defeat the remaining ten thousand troops on the ridge and capture the enemy commander alive. Thus, he chose to take the risk.

 

But he had not expected the troops surging in from all directions to arrive so quickly.

 

The commander on the ridge, who had been holding out with over ten thousand men, remained unscathed. Meanwhile, he himself had been completely surrounded.

 

Yelü De’e began attempting to break out, but his heart was filled with bitterness and hatred. A noble Right Wise King, knowing full well the enemy had set a trap, yet forced to step into it. Ever since Ji Jiu had led his forces onto Fengming Ridge, he knew there was no more intrigue involved—this was an open ploy, baiting him to come and surround them. How could he not come? Tens of thousands of soldiers awaited his victory, waited for him to seize the opposing commander and unleash the might they had concealed for months. To not come would be a humiliation, even if he survived. He had to come. He had no choice.

 

Thus, faced with the fate of being surrounded, he turned his head and coldly commanded his son, “You, kill him!”

 

The sword pointed toward the man on the ridge, observing the battlefield and waiting for an opportunity to strike. Dressed in black armor, he stood out against the faintly lit horizon, imposing and unyielding.

 

Hearing the order, Yelü De’e’s son, Yelü Xiongyan, nodded. Among the surrounding troops desperately trying to break out, he retrieved the longbow from his back and drew it.

 

The arrowhead gleamed silver, cold and sharp, barbed—clearly no ordinary weapon.

 

To kill the enemy commander, even if they could not return triumphant, would still be an accomplishment. Besides, the enemy forces, lightly equipped for pursuit, inspired Yelü Xiongyan with the same confidence his father had in their elite troops: even at great loss, they could surely break through.

 

Ji Jiu was assessing the clash between the two armies. He needed to lead the remaining troops from the ridge down to break through the enemy’s encirclement and reunite with his forces. From a distance, he spotted the left flank where the fiercest fighting was taking place. The leading general, clad in full armor and wielding a spear, was like a predator tearing through the enemy ranks. It was Shen Jue.

 

Shen Jue, now a deputy general, repeatedly raised his head amidst the carnage to look toward the ridge, where he knew someone was waiting for reinforcements. Thus, he fought to carve out a path of blood, ensuring the safe descent of that person, returning them to safety.

 

In his previous life, when Shen Qingxuan died, Shen Jue had been too young for Yimo to let him see his father’s body. Even after the coffin was sealed and buried, he never saw it again.

 

But he knew: his father was dead.

 

Dead and gone.

 

In this life, he was no longer a child. He had the strength to bear burdens and protect.

 

Toward Ji Jiu, Shen Jue carried a heavy guilt. That time they faced each other as enemies should never have happened. If he truly regarded Ji Jiu as a father, how could he have raised a sword against him? But by the time he realized this, it was already too late.

 

To this day, he had not even said a single “I’m sorry.” Thinking of this, Shen Jue fought even harder, fiercer.

 

Ji Jiu finally selected a position to charge down—the left flank, where Shen Jue’s forces were fighting. Leading his troops, he began the charge.

 

The original thirty thousand soldiers on Fengming Ridge had been reduced to less than five thousand. Like madmen, the five thousand surged down the slope, creating the illusion of a pincer attack. The Xiongnu troops panicked for a moment before regrouping to resist desperately. The clash of swords and spears reverberated across the battlefield. Ji Jiu struck down two enemies in quick succession, but his raised halberd froze momentarily in the air. In the chaos, he caught sight of a silver flash hurtling toward his chest.

 

There was no chance to dodge; Ji Jiu believed he was doomed. Yet, at that moment, the red bead on his chest flickered, the arrow snapped, and the arrowhead fell to the ground. Ji Jiu hesitated briefly but quickly snapped back to attention, dodging a scimitar aimed at him. His halberd swung in a sweeping arc, cutting down several more foes.

 

Shen Jue had finally carved a bloody path and joined forces with Ji Jiu’s troops. Together, they fought on both flanks, completely disrupting the Xiongnu’s left-wing formation.

 

At the same time, General Cheng Yu struck from the right, severing the Xiongnu encirclement and preventing their forces from regrouping.

 

The Xiongnu army, split into three sections, began attempting to break out in all directions. Amid the chaos, enemy lancers targeted the horses, bringing down both riders and mounts. The Xiongnu forces fell into disarray, teetering on the brink of collapse.

 

By midday, with the sun high in the sky, Yelü De’e’s central forces, constituting the majority, finally broke through and fled northwest. Oddly enough, the encirclement in the northwest was the weakest. Yelü De’e suspected a trap but had no other option and led his men forward. Along the way, scattered troops regrouped. However, when they passed through the Yue Tai Valley, war drums suddenly sounded from both sides. Horses neighed in terror. In the distance, a figure dressed in scholar’s robes, heavily guarded, cupped his hands in salute and called out, “Right Wise King, by order of the Marshal, I have been awaiting you here for some time!” As his words fell, countless military banners rose atop the hills. The character “Ji” fluttered in the wind. Archers drew their bows, and with the release of countless arrows, the valley below was filled with cries of anguish.

 

By the time Ji Jiu and the others finished mopping up the remnants and arrived at Yue Tai Valley, Shen Hai stepped forward and saluted, reporting, “The Right Wise King has broken through.”

 

Ji Jiu’s voice was hoarse. Coughing, he replied, “It doesn’t matter. The Xiongnu’s main force is not to be underestimated. Breaking through was to be expected. Set up camp here tonight. Has the grain and fodder arrived?”

 

“It’s ready.”

 

Ji Jiu looked up at the sky. The night was clear, stars dazzling against the darkness. He gazed for a while before dismounting. His bloodshot eyes and face, caked with blood and grime, obscured his original features.

 

After a brief wash, Ji Jiu returned to his tent, retrieved a blank memorial, and dipped his brush in ink. The brush hovered over the paper before finally writing down his words.

 

This would likely be his last memorial. Ji Jiu quietly finished writing, waited for the ink to dry, then set it aside.

 

Next, he unfolded another sheet and began writing a letter home. It too would be his last. Ji Jiu wrote carefully, even more so than the memorial, yet finished within three sheets of paper and a single incense stick’s worth of time.

 

After ensuring the ink had dried, Ji Jiu summoned a messenger and instructed him to depart immediately, delivering the memorial to the emperor and the letter to his family, ensuring it reached his wife directly.

 

Once this was done, Ji Jiu sat back down, drank some water, and said without raising his head, “You can come out now.”

 

There was no one around, yet Ji Jiu spoke to the empty air. Reluctantly, Yimo revealed himself.

 

Ji Jiu asked, “How long have you been following me?”

 

Yimo replied, “For a month now.”

 

Ji Jiu had initially wanted to ask, “Was it you who saved me earlier?” but he refrained. The question was unnecessary. After a pause, Ji Jiu said, “Do you hate seeing me die so much?”

 

Yimo murmured, “Yes.”

 

“Then stop following me,” Ji Jiu said quietly. “I’m leading the troops to strike deep into the heart of the Xiongnu. Once this is done, I’ll return home.”

 

He added, “It’s time for me to go home.”

 

Wrapped in his shroud, his body would be brought back, buried in the family tomb.

 

Yimo was silent for a moment before replying, “I understand.”

 

Ji Jiu stood up, walked to Yimo, and looked him directly in the eyes. “Stop following me.”

 

Yimo said nothing.

 

Seeing this, Ji Jiu softened his tone, almost coaxing. “Don’t follow me anymore. Be good.”

 

Yimo looked into his eyes for a long time before finally asking, “Are you sure?”

 

“Yes,” Ji Jiu replied. What good would it do for Yimo to follow him? He was bound to die. If he lived, the entire Ji family might face ruin. Ji Jiu said, “Don’t see me off.”

 

This time, Yimo agreed. “Alright, I won’t see you off.”

 

Ji Jiu had wanted to say, I don’t want you to see me die; it would only hurt you. But he held back. What meaning would it have? They had come to this point. Their future had been predetermined; all the ups and downs in between were futile. Love and hate alike had become meaningless, ultimately succumbing to separation. For so long, Ji Jiu rarely thought of Yimo. When he did, it was only with confusion—why had he hated him so much back then? Why had he later felt so disappointed?

 

But there was no need to think about it any longer.

 

Ji Jiu heard him agree, let out a sigh of relief, nodded, and walked to the side, saying he was very tired. After saying so, he suddenly collapsed to the ground and fell asleep just like that.

 

Yi Mo went over and held him in his arms, knowing that this was their last night together. Yet, he felt an overwhelming desolation—not sadness or pain, just emptiness. A kind of hollowness that no amount of holding this body could fill.

 

Yi Mo held him tightly all night until the sky began to brighten, and the sounds of people and horses outside the tent grew lively.

 

Ji Jiu also woke up at the sound. He opened his eyes in Yi Mo’s arms and stood up. After putting on his heavy armor again, Ji Jiu said, “I must go now,” then added, “And so should you.” It was time for them to part ways.

 

Yi Mo walked up to him and finally asked, “In the next life, I’ll come find you again, alright?”

 

Ji Jiu froze for a moment, then returned to his senses and asked, “You’re serious? Not becoming an immortal?”

 

Yi Mo replied with a soft “Mm.”

 

Ji Jiu lowered his head for a long time before finally looking up and saying, “Then next life, come earlier.”

 

Yi Mo said, “Alright.”

 

“When you find me, treat me better too,” Ji Jiu said.

 

“Alright,” Yi Mo promised, “I won’t bully you.”

 

Ji Jiu responded, “Alright.” Then, leaning over slightly, his dry, cracked lips brushed lightly against Yi Mo’s cheek.

 

In the fifteenth year of the Jianyuan era, in May, the army set out to pursue the Xiongnu Right Virtuous King Yelü De’e, a campaign that lasted half a year, with the enemy slain on the dark grasslands. Only fifty men and horses under Yelü De’e’s son survived and escaped westward again. General Ji Jiu abandoned the pursuit and led his troops across the desert, striking directly at the heart of the Xiongnu.

 

The thirty-seven riders who had once followed Ji Jiu into the desert now played their greatest role. Each led their men, killing along the way without taking any detours. They pursued tribal leaders and beheaded them one after another, continuing through fertile lands of grass and water, leaving no respite.

 

The final target lay at the heart of the royal court. By this time, the Great Chanyu had already received word, assembling his troops and preparing for battle.

 

Yelü De’e’s son, after shaking off his pursuers, circled back to his homeland and joined the Great Chanyu’s camp. Hearing of the impending attack, he prepared two more arrows that very night, vowing to avenge his father.

 

Ji Jiu and his troops launched a night assault. The long campaign had turned them into starving ghosts from hell, pouncing upon the living world in the dead of night. Hiding behind a stack of straw, Yelü Xiongyan clearly saw his father’s killer.

 

On the battlefield, Ji Jiu swept his halberd horizontally, deflecting a slashing saber. Just as he was about to cut down an enemy to his left, he heard Shen Jue’s sudden shout: “Father!” Ji Jiu turned to avoid two slashing sabers, striking an enemy’s chest with the iron shaft of his halberd. At the same time, he caught sight of the gleaming silver arrow.

 

Ji Jiu only felt a coldness in his chest as the glint of light disappeared.

 

Shen Jue, like a madman, charged at the man hiding behind the straw stack who had fired the arrow. He even revealed his true form: a massive black wolf in the shadow of the straw stack, tearing the man’s throat in one bite. In Yelü Xiongyan’s dilated pupils, there was only the green glow of the wolf’s eyes.

 

Ji Jiu stood motionless, gripping his halberd, watching everything unfold in the shadows of the straw stack. Around him, his soldiers continued their fierce battle.

 

The sound of clashing metal gradually faded into the distance. Ji Jiu remained standing, motionless, while his mind wandered to thoughts of his father and mother. He recalled his mother poking his forehead, saying, You heartless child. He thought of that day in the military tent when he had told his father, Once the Xiongnu are defeated, I shall die!

 

I did it, Ji Jiu thought silently.

 

A man of his word, fulfilling his vow with blood and life.

 

His damp fingers fumbled for the wine gourd at his waist. Ji Jiu bit off the stopper and drank deeply.

 

The soldiers around him were pushing forward, killing their way further and further ahead. Ji Jiu stood still, watching them grow farther away.

 

With a choked voice, Shen Jue asked at his side, “Father, are you alright?”

 

Ji Jiu replied, “I’m fine.” Then he added, “Xiaobao, the rest is up to you.” He spoke of signing the treaty, using Mount Qi as the boundary, ensuring no further incursions, and agreeing to pay annual tributes of livestock… These matters, Ji Jiu said, “Xiaobao, go.”

 

For the first and only time, he called him by his childhood nickname.

 

Clenching his teeth, Shen Jue picked up the spear from the ground and turned to leave.

 

Ji Jiu drank his wine, leaning on his halberd, standing there. Until his fingers trembled slightly, and the wine gourd fell to the ground.

 

Ji Jiu didn’t look down. His vision had already turned black, but he knew that the wine was not finished and had spilled.

 

What a waste, he thought. At that moment, a face appeared in his mind.

 

Graceful and reserved, unparalleled in beauty.

 

Time to go home.

 

The halberd slipped from his grip with a long metallic ring. He closed his eyes, and his proud, upright figure fell to the ground.

 

In the eighteenth year of the Jianyuan era, in July, General Ji Jiu passed away. In December of the same year, his body was returned by his soldiers. Alongside it came the Xiongnu’s letter of surrender and the treaty.

 

The emperor posthumously honored him with the title “Loyal” and buried him with the rites of a prince, granting his title hereditary succession.

 

For the next hundred years, the Xiongnu did not invade again.

 

(End of Volume II)

 

tl – chat happy ending when