Chapter 1575 – Attack on Nie Liang, Assault on Yang Tao, Sword Pointing at the World (113)
“What did An Huan do…?”
Yang Si shot a smirking grin at Yan Lin, every word dripping with malice, like poison held in his mouth.
Yan Lin, with a calm gaze, looked at Yang Si and asked again, “What did An Huan do?”
Yang Si chuckled, “Guess.”
Yan Lin: “…”
If it weren’t for his injuries and his status as a captive, with ten guards stationed outside, he would have loved to leap over the low table between them and give Yang Si a good thrashing. Little did he know, this was Yang Si’s true nature. He knew others were anxious, like ants on a hot skillet, and the more they fidgeted, the more he enjoyed letting their hunger for answers stretch their patience to its limit before reluctantly spilling the beans.
This tactic had been experienced by everyone who worked with Jiang Pengji, the lord.
In Jiang Pengji’s words, Yang Si was intentionally courting death; he had a chance to mend colleague relationships but insisted on sowing hatred for himself.
Five million dried fish even gave him a nickname — the notorious “Yang ‘No Pain, No Gain’ Si.”
At this moment, Yan Lin’s heart surged like a wild wave, his calm black eyes brimming with anger, while Yang Si remained “blissfully unaware.”
“No wonder you brought so many people, at least you have some self-awareness.”
Yan Lin sneered coldly.
“Hear that Yan Lin of Zhangzhou is quite the all-rounder, though he often presents himself as a mere scholar these years. I’ve heard of the glorious reputation he built in his youth, so I wouldn’t dare to take it lightly.” Yang Si winked mischievously, but Yan Lin found nothing cute about it—only contempt and anger!
In his youth, the kingdom of Dongqing was in a steep decline, chaos erupted everywhere, and the gentry was no exception in Zhangzhou.
Even though Yang Jian led forces to beat down the river bandits’ confidence, it didn’t mean they disappeared entirely; many scattered river thieves continued to plunder and bully the countryside. Yang Tao, full of youthful bravado, envied the carefree life of wandering heroes and dragged Yan Lin along to roam the martial world. His straightforward and righteous character couldn’t help but stick his nose in unjust matters, which often landed them in heaps of trouble.
Many would think their heroic escapades involved Yang Tao attracting the attention of foes while Yan Lin dealt the finishing blow to gain experience.
Not quite; during their years as wanderers, it was mostly Yan Lin who dealt with the river bandit scum.
Yang Tao believed surrendering would lead to reform, but Yan Lin simply struck swiftly, not allowing the thieves to even talk.
In a brawl, Yan Lin held his own too; his weapon of choice was a pair of swords.
Rumor had it they were crafted by the era’s most dedicated smith, weighing nine and a half pounds in the left hand and ten and a half pounds in the right—together, considerably heavier than usual martial weapons. Just wielding them was tough, let alone using them to fight and kill.
When Yang Si heard these rumors from Feng Zhen, he could hardly believe it.
Feng Zhen said, “Believe it or not! If you provoke Yan Lin, make sure to bring plenty of people, or else I’ll have to clean up your corpse.”
Thus, when Yang Si first saw Yan Lin, his immediate reaction was to scrutinize Yan Lin’s face, scanning down from his shoulders to his arms, hands, and chest. Clothed in scholarly robes, with neatly styled long hair secured by a crown, his demeanor was elegant and refined.
From head to toe, there wasn’t even a hint of martial energy!
Yan Lin coldly laughed, “If you don’t want to speak, then don’t. It’s all just a matter of trivialities.”
Yang Si: “…”
This wasn’t the script they agreed upon!
Yang Si was a person of bravado with a tone that would fit perfectly as a sidekick villain in a story—he’d last no more than three lines.
“Oh? Why don’t you enlighten us on which trivial matters? This way, Yang can see for himself if the admiration for Feng Zhen’s personage is truly justified or just a façade.” Yang Si tried to save face, attempting to provoke Yan Lin’s anger to keep the dialogue going.
Yan Lin replied, “An Huan has grand ambitions, and his strategist, Hua Yuan, is a schemer with ulterior motives. The outbreaks during the campaign against the Southern Barbarians were likely part of their plots. They schemed to let my lord Yang Tao clash with Liu Xi, hoping to fish in troubled waters. According to An Huan’s calculations, Liu Xi would suffer extensive losses while my lord and the Zhong Zhao Nie Clan attacked, which would conveniently allow him to swoop in and swallow the spoils.”
“Who would have thought, in the end, it was Liu Xi who outmaneuvered him! How could An Huan just sit there? He must surely be taking action now.”
How many eyes were fixed on that battlefield?
No one could’ve dreamed that the outcome would be—
Jiang Pengji’s family repelled the Yang and Nie clans, while still retaining a force, leaving both clans weakened.
Nie Liang fell ill at the frontline, and over 200,000 elite soldiers perished at Zhanjiang Pass. Yang Tao lost Zhangzhou with a blunder, leaving him with over 100,000 fewer troops.
Given this situation, how could An Huan simply sit idle?
If he let Jiang Pengji devour Yang Tao, he was next on the chopping block!
In a bid for self-preservation, An Huan had no choice but to change his earlier tactics, stepping into the limelight and joining the fray.
Either ally with Yang Tao or fully take over Yang Tao’s territory and troops!
If he chose to ally with Yang Tao, he would also need to support Yang Tao with personnel and supplies; even if they triumphed over Jiang Pengji, he’d still have to face Yang Tao, who would have recovered. Choosing to annex Yang Tao meant stamping out a future rival in its infancy.
Each path had its pros and cons, but overall, the latter offered more substantial rewards.
Yang Tao now stood on half a leg, with scant troops left and severely lacking in supplies, while the noble families that once backed him harbored increasing resentment. As for An Huan? Following the crusade against the Southern Barbarians, his influence surged in Nan Sheng, while his reputation reached new heights. Being from the Nan Sheng gentry, his interests aligned more closely with the local noble factions, giving him a political edge over Yang Tao.
Yan Lin speculated that An Huan was likely persuading the discontented gentry in Nan Sheng, promising benefits, and drawing them into his camp. The noble families would naturally gravitate towards appealing benefits; if Yang Tao couldn’t provide them, it was only logical they would abandon him.
Yan Lin could vividly imagine the mess Yang Tao would face upon return under An Huan’s machinations.
“An Huan is taking advantage of my lord’s defeat and the people’s wavering hearts, inciting the crowd under him. I can hardly be surprised.”
Yan Lin calmly analyzed the dire straits Yang Tao found himself in, yet Yang Si still wore a “you didn’t guess everything” look.
“Not just that; they even turned the tables!”
Yan Lin’s eyes widened, fixated on Yang Si.
“What do you mean?”
Yang Si replied, “You think An Huan only swayed a little fraction of the Nan Sheng gentry? Just a handful? The moment news of Yang Tao’s defeat reached back, half of them had already flipped sides, while the remaining few watched silently. Yang Tao returning isn’t a comeback; it’s a death wish!”
Crack—
Yang Si’s sharp ears caught a sound, and as he looked down, he was shocked to see Yan Lin had crushed the teacup barehanded.
Yang Si chuckled, “Looks like you can’t take it anymore?”
