The Blood Crown - Chapter 289

When Yan Sikong and Yuan Nanyu were recruiting and training soldiers for Chen Mu in Yunnan, they secretly planted a number of their own people. However, most of them either shifted allegiance, perished on the battlefield, or were discreetly dealt with by Chen Mu upon suspicion. Now, there was only one person left whom they could trust and rely on—Qu Yan.

 

Qu Yan was originally a small bandit leader who had been pacified by them. At that time, Yuan Nanyu had saved his family and his brothers, and he had always kept this kindness in mind.

 

Although Qu Yan wasn’t highly skilled, he remained inconspicuous and loyal, holding the lowly rank of centurion without ever arousing Chen Mu’s suspicion. This was how he had survived until now. The letter Yuan Nanyu wrote to Yan Sikong in Chen Mu’s army had been delivered through him.

 

For safety, they maintained no contact and never met. Yan Sikong only needed to hide his letters in the night pot, which a guard would then take to the camp’s waste disposal pit at the earthen gate. One of Qu Yan’s disabled confidants would retrieve the letter and pass it to Qu Yan.

 

This time, the plan was bold and dangerous, and regardless of its success or failure, Qu Yan could no longer stay in the Chu camp. However, as long as he defected to Feng Ye, he would undoubtedly be greatly promoted and rewarded.

 

After sending Yuan Nanyu away during the day, Yan Sikong indulged in a hearty meal that night, feasting on the wine and dishes sent by Chen Mu. Since arriving at the Chu camp, he had neither eaten nor drunk anything for three days. Now that Yuan Nanyu was safe, he allowed himself to eat and drink freely, finishing an entire jug of wine and even asking for three more.

 

Around midnight, he suddenly began vomiting violently inside the tent, his retching loud enough for the guards outside to hear clearly.

 

Two guards entered and saw the vomit staining the bed and floor, the stench filling the tent. Wrinkling their noses, they asked, “Lord Yan, are you all right? Shall we call a doctor to take a look at you?”

 

Yan Sikong wiped the corner of his mouth and lifted his head, his pale face showing exhaustion and drunkenness. “No… no need, just…” He pointed at the mess he had vomited up and then at one of the guards, whose build was similar to his. “You, clean it up… thoroughly.” With that, he collapsed onto the side, groaning in discomfort.

 

The other guard left, amused at his misfortune, while the designated one reluctantly squatted down to clean the foul mess.

 

As the guard turned his back, the seemingly drunk Yan Sikong suddenly opened his eyes, sharp and alert. In a swift move, he struck the back of the guard’s neck with a hand chop. The man fainted instantly without a sound.

 

Yan Sikong quickly changed clothes with him and placed the unconscious guard on the bed, covering him with a blanket.

 

He then poured lamp oil and the untouched wine from the three jugs onto the tent’s fabric.

 

After completing these preparations, he threw the candlestick onto the soaked fabric and carried the reeking night pot out of the tent.

 

Holding a cloth to his nose and exaggeratedly keeping the night pot at a distance, he deliberately walked close to other guards, who quickly avoided him due to the stench. The darkness of the night hid the fact that the person exiting was not the same as the one who had entered.

 

Within the camp, patrolling guards saw Yan Sikong heading toward the earthen gate with the pot and thought nothing of it. He had walked a good distance when he heard a commotion from the direction of his tent. Flames rose brightly, standing out in the dark night.

 

As the patrolling guards rushed toward the burning tent, Yan Sikong smashed the night pot on the ground and shouted, “The enemy is raiding the camp!”

 

A few days ago, Feng Ye had raided the Ning Prince’s camp. Although the damage was minimal, it left the soldiers on edge. Chen Mu had doubled patrols in response, aiming to prevent further incidents. Now, with the cry of an enemy raid and the sight of flames, no one doubted the claim, believing Feng Ye had indeed returned.

 

Soldiers rushed out of their tents, many barely dressed, weapons in hand, running toward the burning tent.

 

Amid the chaos, Yan Sikong blended into the crowd, shouting about the raid. Others followed his lead, shouting warnings, turning the camp into a frenzy.

 

Yan Sikong sneered inwardly. When it came to commanding and managing troops, Chen Mu was leagues behind Feng Ye.

 

Feng Ye’s camps were organized with bonfires spaced every hundred meters, dividing the camp into zones called “islands.” If the enemy attacked, the soldiers’ first task was not to grab weapons and scatter in search of the enemy but to form ranks within their designated zones. This way, from elevated posts, it would be clear which zones were organized and which were in disarray, exposing the enemy’s location. Once identified, the soldiers would converge and annihilate the intruders swiftly.

 

This method, invented by Feng Jianping and continued by Feng Ye, had ensured the Feng army’s camps were never successfully raided, except when deliberately luring the enemy.

 

Though this technique wasn’t a secret, few could implement it effectively. Without a strict command structure and rigorous discipline, managing such a system during sudden attacks was impossible.

 

Tools must be sharp to accomplish a task, and discipline must be firm for soldiers to act as one. While many could read military texts and recite strategies, only someone like Feng Ye, who could hone and wield his sword skillfully, could truly become a legendary general.

 

Clearly, Chen Mu lacked such talent.

 

Using the chaos, Yan Sikong disappeared into the crowd, heading toward his ultimate target—the Chu camp’s granary.

 

At the granary, Qu Yan and his group of bandit brothers were already fighting the guards. As they were part of the Chu army, their sudden attack caught the guards off guard. Most of the soldiers had been lured away by the supposed raid, leaving the granary weakly defended.

 

Yan Sikong joined the fight, slaying enemy soldiers while Qu Yan covered him as he poured barrels of lamp oil over the granary tents.

 

Taking a torch from someone, Yan Sikong stood outside, looking at the towering piles of grain inside. A cold smile played on his lips.

 

“Chen Mu, the final lesson I leave you is this: never make an enemy of Yan Sikong.

 

May you remember it for life.”

 

He threw the torch without hesitation.

 

—

 

Yuan Nanyu, after some rest, spent the better part of the day uneasy. By evening, he accompanied Feng Ye to the inner prison of Jingyuan Wang’s manor, where Yuan Shaoxu was being held.

 

Before entering the prison, Feng Ye suddenly stopped and asked softly, “Que Wang, do you think you are Yuan Nanyu, or are you Yan Sikong?”

 

Yuan Nanyu froze, falling silent for a long time before finally replying, “I…”

 

“I don’t want your ‘I don’t know.’ I want your intuition.”

 

Yuan Nanyu sighed softly. “I think… he is Yan Sikong.”

 

Feng Ye closed his eyes.

 

“Actually, deep down, the Wolf King should have a clearer intuition than I do. It’s just… the Wolf King doesn’t want him to be Yan Sikong.”

 

Feng Ye drew in a sharp breath, slowly descending the steps. “Now, I need a definite answer.”

 

The two left their guards outside and entered the inner prison, which held only one cell. Yuan Shaoxu was lying in a corner.

 

Hearing movement, Yuan Shaoxu woke and turned to see who had arrived. His eyes widened instantly.

 

Once a robust and handsome general, Yuan Shaoxu was now emaciated and disheveled after months of imprisonment. Even his closest kin might struggle to recognize him at first glance.

 

Seeing his state, Yuan Nanyu felt a swirl of complicated emotions. Yuan Shaoxu had been the mastermind behind the ambush and humiliation he had suffered. Yet, this man was still his brother.

 

Yuan Shaoxu suddenly crawled toward the iron bars, gripping them tightly. “Let me out! Please, let me out!” His voice was hoarse, his appearance crazed.

 

Yuan Nanyu sighed, “Big brother—”

 

“Yan Sikong!” Yuan Shaoxu pointed at Yuan Nanyu, his face filled with terror. “You ungrateful beast! You betrayed me, you harmed me!”

 

Feng Ye frowned as he observed Yuan Shaoxu’s demeanor, which was clearly abnormal. Even the “Yan Sikong” he shouted was ambiguous, making it unclear whom he was addressing.

 

“Big brother, who are you calling?” Yuan Nanyu said gravely. “I am Que Wang. You now—”

 

“You harmed me!” Yuan Shaoxu’s trembling finger pointed at Yuan Nanyu, his face twisted in anguish. “Yan Sikong! You’ve come to kill me. You—you’ve come to kill me! Let me out, let me out!” Suddenly, he knelt down and kowtowed to Feng Ye. “Wolf King, spare me! Don’t kill me, don’t kill me!”

 

Yuan Nanyu saw that Yuan Shaoxu, after months of imprisonment, had completely lost his sanity. A mix of anger and pity surged in his heart, leaving him deeply distressed. He pleaded with Feng Ye, “Wolf King, in his current state, interrogation is meaningless. Could we…call a physician to examine him first?”

 

Feng Ye’s expression darkened as he looked at the madman Yuan Shaoxu had become, barely restraining his desire to twist the man’s neck. He replied, “Then summon a physician.”

 

A guard went to fetch a physician from the residence, but the elderly doctor, upon seeing Yuan Shaoxu’s filthy and frenzied state, hesitated to approach.

 

Feng Ye commanded, “Bind him.”

 

“I’ll do it,” Yuan Nanyu said, taking the ropes from the guard.

 

The guard opened the cell door, and Yuan Nanyu stepped inside, speaking softly, “Big brother, don’t be afraid. The Wolf King has summoned a doctor to treat you. Shouldn’t you kneel and thank the Wolf King for his kindness?”

 

As Yuan Nanyu entered the cell, Yuan Shaoxu cried out in terror, “Don’t come near me, Yan Sikong, don’t come near me!”

 

“Big brother, don’t be afraid. I’m not Yan Sikong. I’m Yuan Nanyu. Look, it’s me.” Yuan Nanyu lifted his hair to reveal the inked punishment mark on his forehead. “Don’t be afraid.”

 

Yuan Shaoxu stared at him, a glimmer of clarity returning to his gaze. “You… Nanyu? You’re… Nanyu?”

 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m just not wearing my mask. Don’t be afraid.” Yuan Nanyu slowly approached. “You’re ill. The doctor will treat you.”

 

“Treat me…” Yuan Shaoxu murmured.

 

“Yes, treat you, big brother. Everything will be fine.” Yuan Nanyu finally reached Yuan Shaoxu and knelt down, speaking gently. “Big brother, don’t move. Once the treatment is over, you’ll be better.” As he spoke, he began to tie the ropes around Yuan Shaoxu’s body.

 

Yuan Shaoxu stiffened, remaining motionless, his eyes vacant.

 

Just as Yuan Nanyu finished wrapping the second loop, Yuan Shaoxu suddenly shuddered. In an instant, he grabbed something and swung it fiercely at Yuan Nanyu.

 

Though Yuan Nanyu was somewhat prepared, he was too close, and Yuan Shaoxu’s martial skills were not to be underestimated. The blow struck his temple hard, knocking him to the ground. His head spun, his vision blurred.

 

Yuan Shaoxu, holding the stone bowl he used for eating, raised it again to strike at Yuan Nanyu on the ground, shouting madly, “Yan Sikong, I’ll kill you—”

 

Despite the pain, Yuan Nanyu rolled to the side to dodge and kicked Yuan Shaoxu to the ground.

 

Feng Ye and the guards rushed into the cell. Feng Ye delivered a heavy kick to Yuan Shaoxu, sending him flying. The guards restrained him, while Feng Ye helped Yuan Nanyu to his feet. “Doctor!”

 

“It’s… it’s fine…” Yuan Nanyu muttered, feeling blood trickling into his eyes. One eye blurred, the other red with blood. Feng Ye’s face swam before him, splitting into countless overlapping images.

 

Suddenly, a flood of familiar yet strange memories surged into Yuan Nanyu’s mind, overwhelming him like a tidal wave. The sharp pain in his head far exceeded the wound on his temple. He clutched his head and cried out in agony, curling up on the ground and writhing in pain.

 

“Que Wang!” Feng Ye pressed down on Yuan Nanyu anxiously. “Go, call the imperial physician immediately!”

 

Unable to withstand the searing pain, Yuan Nanyu finally fell unconscious.

 

—

 

The fire caught the oil, roaring into a fierce blaze. The flames crept along the splashes of oil, spreading like a dragon until it engulfed everything in a fiery inferno, devouring the army tents.

 

“Fire! The granary is on fire!” the Chu soldiers shouted.

 

The guards abandoned their fight to fetch water and extinguish the blaze.

 

Qu Yan ran to Yan Sikong’s side. “Sir, we must leave now.”

 

Yan Sikong replied, “Qu Yan, take the brothers and go. Use the chaos to escape through the earth gate and join the Wolf King.”

 

“Yes, we must leave now!”

 

Yan Sikong remained calm. “The outer tent is burning, but if they put it out, the damage will be minimal. I need to add more fire inside the granary.”

 

Qu Yan’s eyes widened. “Sir, you’re insane! We must leave!”

 

Yan Sikong took the torch from Qu Yan’s hand. “Go now.” Without hesitation, he strode toward the burning granary.

 

Qu Yan reached out to grab him. “Sir, you—”

 

Yan Sikong turned sharply, his sword gleaming coldly as it pressed against Qu Yan’s chest. His gaze was sharp and unyielding as he said icily, “Go.”

 

Qu Yan stared at Yan Sikong in shock.

 

Without looking back, Yan Sikong walked into the granary already consumed by flames.

 

Inside, the granary was an inferno. Flaming debris and beams fell continuously, creating a hellish scene, but he pressed forward without hesitation.

 

This fire would destroy Chen Mu’s forty thousand stones of grain, shattering his dreams of becoming emperor. If captured, Chen Mu would undoubtedly have him flayed alive. Yan Sikong feared death no more, but he refused to meet the same end as Xie Zhongren. This place, then, would be his final resting place.

 

Only in death could Chen Mu no longer use him to threaten Feng Ye.

 

He had avenged his biological parents and adoptive father. He had saved his younger brother. He had fulfilled his promise to Feng Ye from their youth. If there was any regret, it was that he couldn’t kill Han Zhaoxing with his own hands. But annihilating Han’s nine clans was enough.

 

In this life, he had fought with all his might and never betrayed those who were kind to him. Though not perfect, it was satisfactory. So, why should he continue to live, having lost everything?

 

Looking back on his life, he had struggled endlessly, expending every ounce of strength against fate, only to be utterly defeated. Family, loved ones, reputation, ideals, hope—he had nothing left.

 

He had taken countless lives with fire. Now, he hoped this fire could burn away all his sins. If there was a next life, he wished to be a simple, insignificant person, living a peaceful existence.

 

The flames surged, scorching his skin and searing his eyes until he could barely keep them open. Yet, he stood still, unmoving.

 

He discarded his sword and torch, removed his armor, and gently, reverently took something from his chest—a fiery red object.

 

Unfolding it, he revealed a square red wedding kerchief.

 

Through his tumultuous life, he had discarded treasures and honors as trivial, but this he kept close to his heart. Now, it would accompany him on his final journey.

 

Gazing at the crimson kerchief, he thought of the night it was placed over his head and a faint smile graced his lips.

 

In the face of death, one could let go of everything.

 

He pressed the kerchief to his face, gently caressing it. His expression was calm, but tears streamed from the corners of his eyes.

 

Feng Ye, I do not hate you. I hope one day, you will no longer hate me. That when you think of me, you remember the boy who once brought you joy.

 

Feng Ye, I wish for you to become a legendary general, remembered throughout history.

 

But I can no longer fulfill your wish.