The Qinling Mountains fall into darkness. Just as Duan Ling had anticipated, after the Xiliang army has marched through the canyon, they’ve let down their guard. When they run suddenly into the Tongguan Guard’s ambush, they’re routed and escape into the forest.
With pitch darkness before them, Wu Du decisively gives the order to stop the pursuit. He gathers his troops and retreats along the river back to the plains, then he orders six-thousand of his men lie low in the prairie grass, to wait for the enemy to get back into formation.
“Get ready to set fire to the mountain,” Wu Du says.
Soldiers light up weeds and dry branches, and flames spread towards the eastern section of the Qinling. Where the fog is heavy the wood is damp, and when it starts burning, it fills the forest with thick black smoke.
Wu Du’s troops have a choke hold on the only road leading towards Tongguan, and behind him are the wheat fields where he and Duan Ling were attacked when they first arrived. If the bandits want to march towards Tongguan to stage a surprise attack, they’ll have to pass by these wheat fields. Nearly ten thousand men are scattered through the plains, all of them waiting for Wang An and Wu Du’s order to strike.
A scout rushes towards them. “The Tangut army has already made it to Tongguan!”
“Get ready.” Wu Du says to Wang An, “Let’s finish this quickly. We must get back to Tongguan to reinforce the city as soon as possible.”
In the darkness, the fighters on both sides keep a tight grip on their weapons as flames spread to the hills to their left and right. Unable to hide any longer, the bandits charge down from the mountain.
Storm clouds roll in; one can barely see anything in the pitch black of the night. All of a sudden, the cries and screams of a massacre emerge from the forest.
“Charge —!|
As soon as the horses enter the plains, they’re tripped by rope traps. The Tangut army begins to organise their assault — if they don’t manage to charge through this area they would never be able to carry out their plan of attacking Tongguan from both inside and outside. However, Wu Du is entirely prepared. On the back of Wanlibenxiao, with the Lieguangjian in hand, Wu Du is a one-man army at the head of four thousand defenders. He leads the charge.
With earth-shattering might the two forces crash together, and to everyone’s astonishment Wu Du is moving through the battlefield like a cleaver through a counter of vegetables. The soldiers are toppling wherever he goes — none of the Tangut are a match for Wu Du on his own. By the time they realise that this knave is carrying poison, it’s already far too late.
Thunder rumbles overhead. A sudden flash of lightning cuts through the horizon, illuminating the battlefield. Like a war god descended from the heavens, Wu Du charged at the head of his contingent into the enemy formation.
Wu Du’s long sword points, slashes, cuts — the qi of his sword crisscrosses through the camp, scattering poisonous powder. Once he’s put some distance between himself and his own soldiers, he somehow emerges entirely unharmed, having slashed an opening into the enemy formation.
Great geese take flight as the enemy attempts to send word to Tongguan. Wu Du’s hands part in a quick motion and darts fly out spinning; the messenger geese fell as the darts whistle through the air. The leader of the mounted bandits raises his anti-cavalry great sword and charges at Wu Du, opening up a bloody path before him.
“We can’t stop him —!” Someone is howling, “Change formation!”
“You all wait here!” Wu Du calls out, “I’ll take care of him!”
The bandits’ leader is a powerfully-built man, and everyone who tries to block him is swept aside by his great sword, the Tongguan Guard falling beneath its blade one by one.
Just as it seems the battle is about to turn in the bandits’ favour, Wu Du charges at him on horseback with the Lieguangjian in both hands, coming at the bandit leader with an inclined slash. Somehow the great sword doesn’t get chopped into two, and the ringing of metal makes both the fighters shudder.
They both stagger back, while soldiers fall back to create an empty clearing. Wu Du keeps gasping; he’s run out of poison powder, and all he has is the Lieguangjian in his hand. There is some distance of twenty steps or so between them as they confront each other.
The bandit leader spurs his horse forward again, swinging his great sword as he charges at Wu Du. Wanlibenxiao, brave as it is, doesn’t even bother to wait for Wu Du to order it to charge before it runs at the enemy at full speed!
When Wu Du comes at the bandit leader, he knows full well that this is a fight of brute force, and if he’s not careful he’s totally done for. When Wanlibenxiao used to head to the battlefield with Li Jianhong, it had only ever advanced, and had never once retreated out of fear. Now that it has Wu Du on its back, it’s actually going to make him stake his life on this fight!
Before he knows it, Benxiao has already made it to the bandit leader, and the great sword is coming down with a force that can part mountains. Wu Du moves his qi in accordance with the Palm of the Realm, knuckle-daggers shining over his left hand as he raises it to catch the sword coming down from above with strength enough to cut a hole in the sky — while his right hand thrusts with the Lieguangjian! The unshakeable strength behind his palm forcefully catches his enemy’s move, and his hand is instantly covered in blood. However, his right hand drives his sword into the enemy’s heart at the same time, the momentum lifting the bandit leader from his horse a distance of nearly five steps, then with a sideways slash he’s cut him in two, leather armour and all!
Wu Du is used to being an assassin — when has he ever run into a brute-force fight such as this?! He sits on horseback out of breath, and only once the killing is done does Wanlibenxiao turn around to face the bandits. Watching their leader chopped in half, they cannot help but be terrified and back away. In an instant they retreat like a landslide, escaping towards the Qinling.
The Tongguan soldiers erupt in a deafening cheer.
A resonating drumming is echoing from horizon to horizon as though it’s banging on the great gates of Tongguan itself. A row of scarecrows is lined up at the top of the gate tower.
Xie Hao is nervous beyond measure. Duan Ling says, “Don’t worry. They’ll definitely fall for it.”
The messenger calls out in a loud voice, “Go home and tell your Grand Tutor Helian that our General Bian is doing fine! You’ll get your money! Please go home!”
But the Tangut army is still there watching from a distance. An order rings out loudly from the back of the formation and the soldiers all raise their spears, pointing them towards Tongguan.
Duan Ling puts his fingers between his lips and whistles. A messenger behind Tongguan’s gates lights the signal, passing on the message.
Just a wall apart from the enemy outside, soldiers ignite the straw piles they’ve prepared ahead of time behind the city walls. In the distance, one straw pile after another lights up. As the fourth and the fifth raging fires begin to burn, flames reflect off the clouds, turning half the sky crimson.
“Charge —!”
Tongguan soldiers let out exaggerated, miserable screams as they ignite the scarecrows at the top of the tower before pushing them off. Scream after scream rings out before the drawbridge falls, letting out a great big boom as it lands to span the moat.
Duan Ling and Xie Hao run down from the wall, waiting with baited breath. As they descend the last stair they hear a war horn being blown, the sound vibrating through the night.
With fires erupting all over Tongguan, the Xiliang army has no more doubts that their well thought out plan has succeeded. They unleash their attack and crash against Tongguan’s main gates. The cries of combat ring through the streets as the two sides meet in melee.
“The city’s been breached —!” Someone is calling out at the top of their lungs.
“I’m off,” Xie Hao says.
“Stay safe,” Duan Ling replies.
The two go their separate ways at the tower. Duan Ling nocks his arrow, and lights it.
Like a tiger running into a flock of sheep, the Xiliang army crashes through Tongguan’s main gate; in the blink of an eye nearly ten thousand people have rushed in, cutting down everything in their path. On top of the wall, Xie Hao firmly holds onto higher ground, leading his subordinates in an all-out fight against the Xiliang army, while Duan Ling surveys the situation beyond the walls, counting the number of Tangut soldiers who made it into the city.
Three … two … one … that’s close to half of them.
Duan Ling shoots an arrow. It illuminates the night sky like a meteor, flying at a fire pan hanging high up on a gate tower.
Yet another flash of lightning splits the sky, and in an instant the night is lit up as bright as day. His fire arrow draws an arc through the air, falling into the fire pan. A flame bursts violently into life.
Tongguan’s gate once more gives off a sound louder than any since the dawn of time as the second iron gate, made of nearly ten thousand catty of metal, falls into place! The Tangut army is suddenly cut in two.
“Charge —!”
Those Tongguan forces hiding in the hills to either side of the gate have waited for this very moment to reveal themselves, and now they spring their traps from higher ground behind Tongguan’s walls — setting off rocks and logs rolling down towards the enemy. Xie Hao once again leads his soldiers in a successful charge to retake the wall, where they unleash volleys of arrows upon the soldiers below. For the time being, the Xiliang army loses its bearings, and they hastily retreat.
It worked … Duan Ling lets out a breath he’s been holding.
A scout runs up to the tower and says to Duan Ling, “Lord Wu Du and General Wang An have already annihilated the enemy’s main force in one decisive battle, and the enemy has retreated towards the southeast!”
Wonderful! Duan Ling surveys the situation beneath the tower and sees that their victory inside Tongguan is already assured. Once the first round of traps are released, the Tongguan cavalry that has been lying in ambush on either side of the main gate begins their second round of attack.
The streets behind the gates have become a battlefield, and volleys of arrows rain down from the gate towers.
Duan Ling calls out to those below, “Told you our general is fine, but you didn’t believe us! Got a good beating now, didn’t you?!”
The Xiliang army lets loose a torrent of curses. Duan Ling nocks and draws, sniping from the top of the tower. Even though his skills are not as fantastic as Li Jianhong’s, he can at least get rid of a few Xiliang soldiers attempting to take over the city gates.
Another stroke of lightning flashes across the sky, painting the world a blinding white. In the light that has gone as quickly as it came, Duan Ling’s eyes keenly catch the remnant of a shadow. That shadow is climbing onto the city wall, rushing at lightning speed towards the commanding Xie Hao. Without thinking about it at all, Duan Ling nocks, draws, and shoots an arrow towards Xie Hao, while at the same time snarling, “General Xie! Watch out!”
Helan Jie leaps higher up onto the city wall, and vaulting outwards, his metal hook slashes towards Xie Hao.
There’s a light whistling as an arrow flies towards his head, and Helan Jie quickly changes course in midair, raising his metal hook to chop the arrow in two!
Xie Hao backs up abruptly. The soldiers around him rush forward with swords and sabres and halberds in Helan Jie’s direction.
The halberds push Helan Jie back several steps before he grabs a halberd and pulls back with great force, pulling it and the soldier holding it off the tower.
The soldier screams, but Xie Hao has already retreated under the soldiers’ protection. Helan Jie raises his head right away, abandoning Xie Hao and turns to leap onto the wall again to run back and forth along the uneven roof tiles. Fast as he could, he jumps onto a corner tower’s roof, then swiftly charges at Duan Ling!
“Run!” Xie Hao yells at Duan Ling.
Duan Ling shoots another arrow. Helan Jie didn’t even have to dodge — he simply let the arrow land on his body. In the space of a breath he’s already thirty steps away from Duan Ling. Duan Ling fires off three arrows in rapid succession, and Helan Jie isn’t afraid at all, knowing that he’s wearing the White Tiger Shining Armour that makes him invulnerable.
“Await your certain death!” Helan Jie lets out an anguished roar as he leaps past the last gap between the corner tower and Duan Ling.
This is the exact moment Duan Ling has been waiting for. He fires off another arrow. Helan Jie has been dismissing this frail young man all along, and his iron hook is already raised against him. It seems there’s less than ten steps between the two of them now, and anything Duan Ling is trying to do is nothing more than a last gasp effort before his impending death.
And yet, it is precisely in that final moment that Duan Ling shoots a flaming arrow. It hits Helan Jie square in the chest, before Duan Ling leaps up on the spot and spins in midair — to kick the fire pan full of oil that he’s been lighting arrows with towards Helan Jie.
The crude oil explodes outwards and immediately lights Helan Jie’s robe on fire. Before Helan Jie is able to react, the fire pan has already reached him, crashing onto his body. The crude oil covers him in an instant.
A raging inferno practically roars into existence on the spot. Helan Jie turns into a ball of fire, loses his footing, and falls straight down.
Duan Ling leaps at the edge of the corner tower and slides down the roof, kicking up a mess of roof tiles in his wake. There isn’t any part of Helan Jie that isn’t on fire, and he struggles as he howls, waving his iron hook, flying towards Duan Ling in midair. It looks like Duan Ling won’t have time to get out of the way, and as he’s about to be caught by Helan Jie, a slender silhouette flies towards them.
Lang Junxia steps on the flying eaves, takes a half turn in midair, shakes out his long sword, and with one move he stabs through Helan Jie’s arm and nails him onto the edge of the eaves with a metallic ting.
Duan Ling stares at him in astonishment.
Lang Junxia lands behind Helan Jie, casually tips out the sword that Helan Jie has been carrying on his back out of its sheath, and takes it from him.
“The sword goes to me, and the White Tiger Shining Armour goes to you.” Lang Junxia says, “Until we meet again.”
Lang Junxia pulls the long sword out of the eaves, and with one slash he chops off Helan Jie’s entire arm, then he does the same to both Helan Jie’s legs before quickly backing away, and as swiftly as a stroke of lightning that touches the horizon and is gone, he disappears perfectly into the dark.
Helan Jie slips and rolls down along the roof in a clatter of broken ceramic tiles, crashing onto the ground.
Gasping incessantly, Duan Ling turns around to enter the tower and comes down by the stairs.
In Tonguan, the sound of killing has begun to wane. In a crackle of thunder rain starts to fall. A downpour that stretches from one end of the horizon to another splashes down, putting out the fire on Helan Jie. Blood spreads out from his body to cover the ground.
“At whose behest did you kill the late emperor?”
Old scores and new grudges layer on each other, bubbling up to the surface. Duan Ling watches Helan Jie calmly. Helan Jie moans in pain.
Duan Ling suddenly snarls at him, “Speak!”
“You … you …” Helan Jie struggles to crawl towards him, dragging out a bloodied path. He raises his head and stares at Duan Ling.
Duan Ling stands before Helan Jie, soaked with rain. The way he’s looking at Helan Jie has finally made this cruel assassin remember the man he ambushed outside of Shangjing exactly a year ago — on the same date.
“You’re … Li Jianhong’s …”
“My father died because of you.” Duan Ling says in a low tone, “Tell me who it was that incited you to ambush him.”
Helan Jie’s head, that has been burnt to a lump of black coal, looks frighteningly sinister. Helan Jie’s lips move slightly. “It was … it was …”
Duan Ling takes another step towards him.
A tiny needle flies at Duan Ling, shining with cold light.
Just then, Wanlibenxiao makes it to the gate tower. Wu Du dismounts with a flip, and with a single stride he throws himself at Duan Ling, waving his right hand out in front of them. Duan Ling hears three clean metallic strikes as Wu Du catches Helan Jie’s poison needles, the inertia of his leap taking Duan Ling along with him into a puddle.
Duan Ling staggers to his feet. Helan Jie bangs his blackened head heavily against the ground with the rest of his strength. The skin on his face cracks open, and his blood seeps forth, dissolving into the rain.
Wu Du is still gasping heavily, his armour covered in blood. He falls back to sit against the wall.
Duan Ling smiles helplessly at Wu Du; he may not have managed to get the information he was planning to get, but he did take vengeance for his father.
“How dare you smile!” Wu Du snarls, “Are you nuts? What did you want to talk about with that desperate outlaw?! Do you still want to live or what?!”
Wu Du raises a hand, and Duan Ling thinks he’s going to slap him, but Wu Du reaches out for the back of Duan Ling’s head instead and pulls him into his arms. His entire body is shaking.
Wu Du’s legs are stretched out in front of him; his right foot has been injured in a bitter battle, and holding Duan Ling with a wounded hand wrapped up like a steamed roll, he pats Duan Ling’s head with his good hand, leaning in close to stare at Duan Ling’s youthful features, their breaths intermingling.
The rain stops. A gale blows in their direction, and the skies clear.
The dark clouds that had been covering the sky like a grey curtain part and fade to nothingness with one touch from the Weaving Maid2 to reveal the magnificent Silver River bridging across time, across eternity.
Each of the countless puddles on the ground reflects the brilliant stars above in unison; every puddle is like a universe of its own, each world going through its own cycles of civilisations’ rise and fall, waxing and waning through the ages.
All the noises around them seem to fade away.
It is as though in this boundless world all that exists is this giant city wall whose like will never be seen again.
The city wall cuts them off from life, and it cuts them off from death, cuts them off from the stars above, and cuts them off from the earth. And at this moment, they’re sitting by this grand city wall.
On the seventh day of the seventh month, autumn wind blows by to draw ripples big and small on the puddles, scattering starlight that gently sway through the water.
And yet it is in this instant that Wu Du’s attention is drawn by Duan Ling’s eyes; a scene from a long, long time ago suddenly replays in this head. Wonder and surprise replace his impulse, making his eyebrows draw together.
He puts his palm over Duan Ling’s nose and lips.
Duan Ling looks bewildered, unsure what Wu Du means to do.
Wu Du’s expression seems utterly thunderstruck. He moves his hand away, and puts it back, carefully studying Duan Ling’s eyes.
Duan Ling’s bewildered gaze vaguely superimposes onto a child’s eyes that he saw seven years ago, on a snowy night in Shangjing, in the lantern glow of an apothecary, peeking out from behind a counter.
For the third time, Wu Du moves his hand away, and puts it back. His memories gradually coalesce into a clear picture.
“I’ve seen you before,” Wu Du says incredulously. “Seven years ago, in an apothecary in Shangjing. How can this be?”
How many heroes must have grown old
on the path beneath Mount Mang since time began;3
their resentment could fill the Yangtze.
With whom could I share this subdued melancholy?
I look on, as in the distance, great geese fly home south.
What’s the use of peerless fame and glory?
How I had blamed the heavens in vain.
Sing at the top of your voice;
eat, drink, and be merry,
that’s how a man should live,
be he poor or wealthy.45
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
Today is the Seventh of Seventh. ↩︎
Mount Mang is filled with mausoleums of imperial kin, emperors included. ↩︎
Poem by Jin Dynasty (the Jurchen dynasty, not the one with Sima Yan) poet Yuan Haowen. It’s set to the Song “Immortals of Magpie Bridge”, the poem that was used to end Book 1. ↩︎
In the jjwxc version, this is the end of book 2. ↩︎
The Qinling Mountains fall into darkness. Just as Duan Ling had anticipated, after the Xiliang army has marched through the canyon, they’ve let down their guard. When they run suddenly into the Tongguan Guard’s ambush, they’re routed and escape into the forest.
With pitch darkness before them, Wu Du decisively gives the order to stop the pursuit. He gathers his troops and retreats along the river back to the plains, then he orders six-thousand of his men lie low in the prairie grass, to wait for the enemy to get back into formation.
“Get ready to set fire to the mountain,” Wu Du says.
Soldiers light up weeds and dry branches, and flames spread towards the eastern section of the Qinling. Where the fog is heavy the wood is damp, and when it starts burning, it fills the forest with thick black smoke.
Wu Du’s troops have a choke hold on the only road leading towards Tongguan, and behind him are the wheat fields where he and Duan Ling were attacked when they first arrived. If the bandits want to march towards Tongguan to stage a surprise attack, they’ll have to pass by these wheat fields. Nearly ten thousand men are scattered through the plains, all of them waiting for Wang An and Wu Du’s order to strike.
A scout rushes towards them. “The Tangut army has already made it to Tongguan!”
“Get ready.” Wu Du says to Wang An, “Let’s finish this quickly. We must get back to Tongguan to reinforce the city as soon as possible.”
In the darkness, the fighters on both sides keep a tight grip on their weapons as flames spread to the hills to their left and right. Unable to hide any longer, the bandits charge down from the mountain.
Storm clouds roll in; one can barely see anything in the pitch black of the night. All of a sudden, the cries and screams of a massacre emerge from the forest.
“Charge —!|
As soon as the horses enter the plains, they’re tripped by rope traps. The Tangut army begins to organise their assault — if they don’t manage to charge through this area they would never be able to carry out their plan of attacking Tongguan from both inside and outside. However, Wu Du is entirely prepared. On the back of Wanlibenxiao, with the Lieguangjian in hand, Wu Du is a one-man army at the head of four thousand defenders. He leads the charge.
With earth-shattering might the two forces crash together, and to everyone’s astonishment Wu Du is moving through the battlefield like a cleaver through a counter of vegetables. The soldiers are toppling wherever he goes — none of the Tangut are a match for Wu Du on his own. By the time they realise that this knave is carrying poison, it’s already far too late.
Thunder rumbles overhead. A sudden flash of lightning cuts through the horizon, illuminating the battlefield. Like a war god descended from the heavens, Wu Du charged at the head of his contingent into the enemy formation.
Wu Du’s long sword points, slashes, cuts — the qi of his sword crisscrosses through the camp, scattering poisonous powder. Once he’s put some distance between himself and his own soldiers, he somehow emerges entirely unharmed, having slashed an opening into the enemy formation.
Great geese take flight as the enemy attempts to send word to Tongguan. Wu Du’s hands part in a quick motion and darts fly out spinning; the messenger geese fell as the darts whistle through the air. The leader of the mounted bandits raises his anti-cavalry great sword and charges at Wu Du, opening up a bloody path before him.
“We can’t stop him —!” Someone is howling, “Change formation!”
“You all wait here!” Wu Du calls out, “I’ll take care of him!”
The bandits’ leader is a powerfully-built man, and everyone who tries to block him is swept aside by his great sword, the Tongguan Guard falling beneath its blade one by one.
Just as it seems the battle is about to turn in the bandits’ favour, Wu Du charges at him on horseback with the Lieguangjian in both hands, coming at the bandit leader with an inclined slash. Somehow the great sword doesn’t get chopped into two, and the ringing of metal makes both the fighters shudder.
They both stagger back, while soldiers fall back to create an empty clearing. Wu Du keeps gasping; he’s run out of poison powder, and all he has is the Lieguangjian in his hand. There is some distance of twenty steps or so between them as they confront each other.
The bandit leader spurs his horse forward again, swinging his great sword as he charges at Wu Du. Wanlibenxiao, brave as it is, doesn’t even bother to wait for Wu Du to order it to charge before it runs at the enemy at full speed!
When Wu Du comes at the bandit leader, he knows full well that this is a fight of brute force, and if he’s not careful he’s totally done for. When Wanlibenxiao used to head to the battlefield with Li Jianhong, it had only ever advanced, and had never once retreated out of fear. Now that it has Wu Du on its back, it’s actually going to make him stake his life on this fight!
Before he knows it, Benxiao has already made it to the bandit leader, and the great sword is coming down with a force that can part mountains. Wu Du moves his qi in accordance with the Palm of the Realm, knuckle-daggers shining over his left hand as he raises it to catch the sword coming down from above with strength enough to cut a hole in the sky — while his right hand thrusts with the Lieguangjian! The unshakeable strength behind his palm forcefully catches his enemy’s move, and his hand is instantly covered in blood. However, his right hand drives his sword into the enemy’s heart at the same time, the momentum lifting the bandit leader from his horse a distance of nearly five steps, then with a sideways slash he’s cut him in two, leather armour and all!
Wu Du is used to being an assassin — when has he ever run into a brute-force fight such as this?! He sits on horseback out of breath, and only once the killing is done does Wanlibenxiao turn around to face the bandits. Watching their leader chopped in half, they cannot help but be terrified and back away. In an instant they retreat like a landslide, escaping towards the Qinling.
The Tongguan soldiers erupt in a deafening cheer.
A resonating drumming is echoing from horizon to horizon as though it’s banging on the great gates of Tongguan itself. A row of scarecrows is lined up at the top of the gate tower.
Xie Hao is nervous beyond measure. Duan Ling says, “Don’t worry. They’ll definitely fall for it.”
The messenger calls out in a loud voice, “Go home and tell your Grand Tutor Helian that our General Bian is doing fine! You’ll get your money! Please go home!”
But the Tangut army is still there watching from a distance. An order rings out loudly from the back of the formation and the soldiers all raise their spears, pointing them towards Tongguan.
Duan Ling puts his fingers between his lips and whistles. A messenger behind Tongguan’s gates lights the signal, passing on the message.
Just a wall apart from the enemy outside, soldiers ignite the straw piles they’ve prepared ahead of time behind the city walls. In the distance, one straw pile after another lights up. As the fourth and the fifth raging fires begin to burn, flames reflect off the clouds, turning half the sky crimson.
“Charge —!”
Tongguan soldiers let out exaggerated, miserable screams as they ignite the scarecrows at the top of the tower before pushing them off. Scream after scream rings out before the drawbridge falls, letting out a great big boom as it lands to span the moat.
Duan Ling and Xie Hao run down from the wall, waiting with baited breath. As they descend the last stair they hear a war horn being blown, the sound vibrating through the night.
With fires erupting all over Tongguan, the Xiliang army has no more doubts that their well thought out plan has succeeded. They unleash their attack and crash against Tongguan’s main gates. The cries of combat ring through the streets as the two sides meet in melee.
“The city’s been breached —!” Someone is calling out at the top of their lungs.
“I’m off,” Xie Hao says.
“Stay safe,” Duan Ling replies.
The two go their separate ways at the tower. Duan Ling nocks his arrow, and lights it.
Like a tiger running into a flock of sheep, the Xiliang army crashes through Tongguan’s main gate; in the blink of an eye nearly ten thousand people have rushed in, cutting down everything in their path. On top of the wall, Xie Hao firmly holds onto higher ground, leading his subordinates in an all-out fight against the Xiliang army, while Duan Ling surveys the situation beyond the walls, counting the number of Tangut soldiers who made it into the city.
Three … two … one … that’s close to half of them.
Duan Ling shoots an arrow. It illuminates the night sky like a meteor, flying at a fire pan hanging high up on a gate tower.
Yet another flash of lightning splits the sky, and in an instant the night is lit up as bright as day. His fire arrow draws an arc through the air, falling into the fire pan. A flame bursts violently into life.
Tongguan’s gate once more gives off a sound louder than any since the dawn of time as the second iron gate, made of nearly ten thousand catty of metal, falls into place! The Tangut army is suddenly cut in two.
“Charge —!”
Those Tongguan forces hiding in the hills to either side of the gate have waited for this very moment to reveal themselves, and now they spring their traps from higher ground behind Tongguan’s walls — setting off rocks and logs rolling down towards the enemy. Xie Hao once again leads his soldiers in a successful charge to retake the wall, where they unleash volleys of arrows upon the soldiers below. For the time being, the Xiliang army loses its bearings, and they hastily retreat.
It worked … Duan Ling lets out a breath he’s been holding.
A scout runs up to the tower and says to Duan Ling, “Lord Wu Du and General Wang An have already annihilated the enemy’s main force in one decisive battle, and the enemy has retreated towards the southeast!”
Wonderful! Duan Ling surveys the situation beneath the tower and sees that their victory inside Tongguan is already assured. Once the first round of traps are released, the Tongguan cavalry that has been lying in ambush on either side of the main gate begins their second round of attack.
The streets behind the gates have become a battlefield, and volleys of arrows rain down from the gate towers.
Duan Ling calls out to those below, “Told you our general is fine, but you didn’t believe us! Got a good beating now, didn’t you?!”
The Xiliang army lets loose a torrent of curses. Duan Ling nocks and draws, sniping from the top of the tower. Even though his skills are not as fantastic as Li Jianhong’s, he can at least get rid of a few Xiliang soldiers attempting to take over the city gates.
Another stroke of lightning flashes across the sky, painting the world a blinding white. In the light that has gone as quickly as it came, Duan Ling’s eyes keenly catch the remnant of a shadow. That shadow is climbing onto the city wall, rushing at lightning speed towards the commanding Xie Hao. Without thinking about it at all, Duan Ling nocks, draws, and shoots an arrow towards Xie Hao, while at the same time snarling, “General Xie! Watch out!”
Helan Jie leaps higher up onto the city wall, and vaulting outwards, his metal hook slashes towards Xie Hao.
There’s a light whistling as an arrow flies towards his head, and Helan Jie quickly changes course in midair, raising his metal hook to chop the arrow in two!
Xie Hao backs up abruptly. The soldiers around him rush forward with swords and sabres and halberds in Helan Jie’s direction.
The halberds push Helan Jie back several steps before he grabs a halberd and pulls back with great force, pulling it and the soldier holding it off the tower.
The soldier screams, but Xie Hao has already retreated under the soldiers’ protection. Helan Jie raises his head right away, abandoning Xie Hao and turns to leap onto the wall again to run back and forth along the uneven roof tiles. Fast as he could, he jumps onto a corner tower’s roof, then swiftly charges at Duan Ling!
“Run!” Xie Hao yells at Duan Ling.
Duan Ling shoots another arrow. Helan Jie didn’t even have to dodge — he simply let the arrow land on his body. In the space of a breath he’s already thirty steps away from Duan Ling. Duan Ling fires off three arrows in rapid succession, and Helan Jie isn’t afraid at all, knowing that he’s wearing the White Tiger Shining Armour that makes him invulnerable.
“Await your certain death!” Helan Jie lets out an anguished roar as he leaps past the last gap between the corner tower and Duan Ling.
This is the exact moment Duan Ling has been waiting for. He fires off another arrow. Helan Jie has been dismissing this frail young man all along, and his iron hook is already raised against him. It seems there’s less than ten steps between the two of them now, and anything Duan Ling is trying to do is nothing more than a last gasp effort before his impending death.
And yet, it is precisely in that final moment that Duan Ling shoots a flaming arrow. It hits Helan Jie square in the chest, before Duan Ling leaps up on the spot and spins in midair — to kick the fire pan full of oil that he’s been lighting arrows with towards Helan Jie.
The crude oil explodes outwards and immediately lights Helan Jie’s robe on fire. Before Helan Jie is able to react, the fire pan has already reached him, crashing onto his body. The crude oil covers him in an instant.
A raging inferno practically roars into existence on the spot. Helan Jie turns into a ball of fire, loses his footing, and falls straight down.
Duan Ling leaps at the edge of the corner tower and slides down the roof, kicking up a mess of roof tiles in his wake. There isn’t any part of Helan Jie that isn’t on fire, and he struggles as he howls, waving his iron hook, flying towards Duan Ling in midair. It looks like Duan Ling won’t have time to get out of the way, and as he’s about to be caught by Helan Jie, a slender silhouette flies towards them.
Lang Junxia steps on the flying eaves, takes a half turn in midair, shakes out his long sword, and with one move he stabs through Helan Jie’s arm and nails him onto the edge of the eaves with a metallic ting.
Duan Ling stares at him in astonishment.
Lang Junxia lands behind Helan Jie, casually tips out the sword that Helan Jie has been carrying on his back out of its sheath, and takes it from him.
“The sword goes to me, and the White Tiger Shining Armour goes to you.” Lang Junxia says, “Until we meet again.”
Lang Junxia pulls the long sword out of the eaves, and with one slash he chops off Helan Jie’s entire arm, then he does the same to both Helan Jie’s legs before quickly backing away, and as swiftly as a stroke of lightning that touches the horizon and is gone, he disappears perfectly into the dark.
Helan Jie slips and rolls down along the roof in a clatter of broken ceramic tiles, crashing onto the ground.
Gasping incessantly, Duan Ling turns around to enter the tower and comes down by the stairs.
In Tonguan, the sound of killing has begun to wane. In a crackle of thunder rain starts to fall. A downpour that stretches from one end of the horizon to another splashes down, putting out the fire on Helan Jie. Blood spreads out from his body to cover the ground.
“At whose behest did you kill the late emperor?”
Old scores and new grudges layer on each other, bubbling up to the surface. Duan Ling watches Helan Jie calmly. Helan Jie moans in pain.
Duan Ling suddenly snarls at him, “Speak!”
“You … you …” Helan Jie struggles to crawl towards him, dragging out a bloodied path. He raises his head and stares at Duan Ling.
Duan Ling stands before Helan Jie, soaked with rain. The way he’s looking at Helan Jie has finally made this cruel assassin remember the man he ambushed outside of Shangjing exactly a year ago — on the same date.
“You’re … Li Jianhong’s …”
“My father died because of you.” Duan Ling says in a low tone, “Tell me who it was that incited you to ambush him.”
Helan Jie’s head, that has been burnt to a lump of black coal, looks frighteningly sinister. Helan Jie’s lips move slightly. “It was … it was …”
Duan Ling takes another step towards him.
A tiny needle flies at Duan Ling, shining with cold light.
Just then, Wanlibenxiao makes it to the gate tower. Wu Du dismounts with a flip, and with a single stride he throws himself at Duan Ling, waving his right hand out in front of them. Duan Ling hears three clean metallic strikes as Wu Du catches Helan Jie’s poison needles, the inertia of his leap taking Duan Ling along with him into a puddle.
Duan Ling staggers to his feet. Helan Jie bangs his blackened head heavily against the ground with the rest of his strength. The skin on his face cracks open, and his blood seeps forth, dissolving into the rain.
Wu Du is still gasping heavily, his armour covered in blood. He falls back to sit against the wall.
Duan Ling smiles helplessly at Wu Du; he may not have managed to get the information he was planning to get, but he did take vengeance for his father.
“How dare you smile!” Wu Du snarls, “Are you nuts? What did you want to talk about with that desperate outlaw?! Do you still want to live or what?!”
Wu Du raises a hand, and Duan Ling thinks he’s going to slap him, but Wu Du reaches out for the back of Duan Ling’s head instead and pulls him into his arms. His entire body is shaking.
Wu Du’s legs are stretched out in front of him; his right foot has been injured in a bitter battle, and holding Duan Ling with a wounded hand wrapped up like a steamed roll, he pats Duan Ling’s head with his good hand, leaning in close to stare at Duan Ling’s youthful features, their breaths intermingling.
The rain stops. A gale blows in their direction, and the skies clear.
The dark clouds that had been covering the sky like a grey curtain part and fade to nothingness with one touch from the Weaving Maid2 to reveal the magnificent Silver River bridging across time, across eternity.
Each of the countless puddles on the ground reflects the brilliant stars above in unison; every puddle is like a universe of its own, each world going through its own cycles of civilisations’ rise and fall, waxing and waning through the ages.
All the noises around them seem to fade away.
It is as though in this boundless world all that exists is this giant city wall whose like will never be seen again.
The city wall cuts them off from life, and it cuts them off from death, cuts them off from the stars above, and cuts them off from the earth. And at this moment, they’re sitting by this grand city wall.
On the seventh day of the seventh month, autumn wind blows by to draw ripples big and small on the puddles, scattering starlight that gently sway through the water.
And yet it is in this instant that Wu Du’s attention is drawn by Duan Ling’s eyes; a scene from a long, long time ago suddenly replays in this head. Wonder and surprise replace his impulse, making his eyebrows draw together.
He puts his palm over Duan Ling’s nose and lips.
Duan Ling looks bewildered, unsure what Wu Du means to do.
Wu Du’s expression seems utterly thunderstruck. He moves his hand away, and puts it back, carefully studying Duan Ling’s eyes.
Duan Ling’s bewildered gaze vaguely superimposes onto a child’s eyes that he saw seven years ago, on a snowy night in Shangjing, in the lantern glow of an apothecary, peeking out from behind a counter.
For the third time, Wu Du moves his hand away, and puts it back. His memories gradually coalesce into a clear picture.
“I’ve seen you before,” Wu Du says incredulously. “Seven years ago, in an apothecary in Shangjing. How can this be?”
How many heroes must have grown old
on the path beneath Mount Mang since time began;3
their resentment could fill the Yangtze.
With whom could I share this subdued melancholy?
I look on, as in the distance, great geese fly home south.
What’s the use of peerless fame and glory?
How I had blamed the heavens in vain.
Sing at the top of your voice;
eat, drink, and be merry,
that’s how a man should live,
be he poor or wealthy.45
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
Today is the Seventh of Seventh. ↩︎
Mount Mang is filled with mausoleums of imperial kin, emperors included. ↩︎
Poem by Jin Dynasty (the Jurchen dynasty, not the one with Sima Yan) poet Yuan Haowen. It’s set to the Song “Immortals of Magpie Bridge”, the poem that was used to end Book 1. ↩︎
In the jjwxc version, this is the end of book 2. ↩︎
