More than 240 years have passed since the founding of the Great Qi Dynasty. Ever since its founding emperor unified the realm, successive rulers have governed with moderation and restraint. Taxes remained light, agriculture flourished, the Grand Canal connected north and south, commerce prospered, and the empire enjoyed generations of peace and prosperity.
The capital, Yong'an, stood as the pinnacle of this golden age—its grand palaces, bustling markets, wealthy mansions, and lively entertainment reflecting an empire at the height of its glory.
Yet history teaches that prosperity inevitably breeds decline.
After centuries without major wars, the empire gradually lost its martial spirit. The once-feared military families that had conquered the empire became increasingly absorbed in luxury, poetry, and refined living. Civil officials came to dominate the government, while military affairs were dismissed as the concern of uncultured soldiers.
The frontier armies still existed in name, but soldiers rarely trained and commanders had little combat experience. The legendary Great Qi cavalry had become little more than an impressive façade.
From the emperor to ordinary citizens, everyone believed their empire remained the unquestioned center of civilization. Outwardly magnificent, Great Qi was in reality like an aging lion—its appearance still regal, but its strength long faded.
Meanwhile, beyond the northern frontier, the nomadic tribes of the northern steppe had changed dramatically. Under the ruthless leadership of Amor, the tribes were unified into a single powerful force. Unlike the divided clans of the past, they now possessed both unity and ambition.
For nearly ten years, Amor's forces repeatedly raided Great Qi's borders. At first, they limited themselves to attacking caravans and isolated villages before retreating quickly to the grasslands.
Border commanders repeatedly warned the imperial court, but the civil officials dismissed the raids as insignificant disturbances. They argued that diplomacy and conciliation were preferable to war. Emperor Xiaoming, having known only peace throughout his life, also chose to avoid military escalation, merely ordering frontier generals to remain on the defensive.
To the northern tribes, this restraint appeared to be weakness.
After capturing more than a dozen border villages without facing any meaningful retaliation, Amor concluded that Great Qi was no longer the mighty empire it once had been. The fearsome lion of old had become little more than a paper tiger.
With his confidence growing, Amor set his sights on Yunshuo City, the most important fortress guarding Great Qi's northern frontier. If it fell, nothing but open plains would remain between the nomads and the empire's heartland.
Carefully choosing the moment when autumn turned to winter and border defenses were at their weakest, Amor launched a massive surprise assault.
The Great Qi defenders were completely unprepared. Years of complacency left them unable to withstand the fierce, battle-hardened cavalry of the steppe. Within a single day, the outer defenses collapsed. Three days later, Yunshuo City's walls had fallen.
An urgent military dispatch raced eight hundred li to the capital, shocking the entire court awake from its century-long illusion of peace. Only then did officials realize that the northern tribes were no longer submissive vassals—they had become wolves ready to devour the empire itself.
Enraged, Emperor Xiaoming immediately dispatched three famous generals to retake Yunshuo. Though all came from prestigious military families, none had real battlefield experience.
Their incompetence was quickly exposed.
Over the next three months, the imperial armies suffered one crushing defeat after another. Not only did they fail to reclaim Yunshuo, but the northern tribes exploited their victories to capture two additional cities, plunging the empire into panic.
Inside the Golden Throne Hall, silence filled the court.
The emperor sat upon the Dragon Throne with an expression as cold as iron. The ministers who normally spoke so confidently now dared not even meet his gaze. Having spent his entire life in an era of peace, Emperor Xiaoming had never imagined facing such a national crisis. Despite commanding an empire with supposedly a million soldiers, Great Qi could not stop the cavalry of the northern nomads.
The dynasty's two centuries of stability now seemed poised to collapse during his reign, and the thought that he might one day face his imperial ancestors in shame weighed heavily upon his heart.
After a long silence, Emperor Xiaoming finally suppresses his anger. His gaze settles on the foremost military official in the court—General Su Qingcang, the General Who Guards the Distant Frontiers—and asks whether he has any strategy for resolving the crisis in the north.
Su Qingcang is a veteran commander nearing forty. Gray already streaks his temples after spending most of his life defending the northern borders and earning countless military honors. Although he had retired to enjoy his later years, the disastrous defeats on the frontier and the lack of capable commanders forced the court to summon him back into service.
Without hesitation, the general steps forward, his black armor clattering through the silent hall.
He declares that the Hu tribes' ambitions are now unmistakable. Their greed knows no bounds, and attempts at appeasement will never stop them. Only overwhelming military force can crush their advance and secure the northern frontier. He requests permission to lead an army north, retake Yunshuo, and drive every invader out of Great Qi's territory.
The emperor feels somewhat reassured by the old general's confidence. Yet he cannot help expressing regret. Su Qingcang has already devoted half his life to guarding the frontier and should be enjoying retirement. The fact that the empire must rely on an aging veteran once again, because no younger commander is equal to the task, is a failure of both the throne and the government.
Su Qingcang immediately kneels on one knee.
He replies that serving the emperor and defending the nation are simply the duties of a Great Qi general. Though his hair has turned white, his body remains strong. With the nation in danger and the people suffering, how could he dare call himself old? War cannot wait, and he begs the emperor to grant his request.
Seeing the determination in his eyes, Emperor Xiaoming finally agrees.
He appoints Su Qingcang as Grand Marshal of the Northern Expedition, places one hundred thousand elite troops under his command, and orders him to march north and recover Yunshuo.
After Su Qingcang accepts the imperial decree, the emperor asks who should serve as deputy commander to assist him.
Before the general can answer, an unexpected figure steps out from the line of imperial princes.
The young man is dressed in understated princely robes of fine quality. Tall and slender, he stands like a bamboo stalk in winter—graceful yet unyielding. His handsome features are cool and composed. Unlike other royal youths, he possesses neither arrogance nor youthful impulsiveness. Instead, he carries himself with a calm maturity, keen intelligence, and a natural air of cold dignity that seems far beyond his eighteen years.
Lowering his eyes respectfully, he bows and says in a clear, composed voice:
"Father Emperor, I wish to serve as Deputy Commander of the Northern Expedition. Allow me to accompany the Grand Marshal, eliminate the Hu invaders, restore peace to the realm, and bring relief to the people."
The entire throne hall falls utterly silent.
Every official stares at the speaker in astonishment.
It is the Second Prince, Qi Yan.
Everyone knows Qi Yan to be aloof and reserved. He rarely speaks, seldom attends court, avoids forming political alliances, and generally keeps to himself within his princely residence. Among all the imperial princes, he has always been the easiest to overlook.
No one imagined that such a detached prince would voluntarily ask to go to war.
Then realization dawns upon the court.
General Su Qingcang is none other than Qi Yan's maternal grandfather.
Since childhood, Qi Yan has often stayed at the general's residence, learning military strategy, battlefield tactics, archery, and horsemanship under his grandfather's guidance. Looking at him now, many officials finally recognize that the prince possesses courage and bearing far beyond that of an ordinary noble youth. Yet in a dynasty that prizes scholars over soldiers, such talents have remained hidden within the palace walls, unnoticed and unappreciated.
Yet, born into a Great Qi court that revered civil officials and belittled military prowess, Qi Yan's martial talents had never been appreciated. As a result, he had remained buried within the deep palace walls, overlooked by all.
Emperor Xiaoming was equally taken aback. Surprise filled his eyes as he carefully studied this son who had always kept himself distant and aloof. The young prince stood tall and straight, his expression composed. There was an unmistakable aura of youthful heroism about him. But after a moment's thought, the emperor's concerns resurfaced. His brows knit together as he spoke with gentle admonition.
"My son, you are still young and have never experienced the horrors of the battlefield. The flames of war on the frontier are merciless; swords and arrows know no mercy. This is not a matter in which youthful passion alone can prove one's courage. It is no trifling affair."
Still bowing respectfully, Qi Yan showed not the slightest hesitation. When he raised his eyes, they were clear and resolute.
"Father Emperor, the realm now stands in peril. Our borders have fallen, and the people of the north suffer amid the devastation of war. Though I am young, I have studied military strategy and battlefield formations under my grandfather since childhood. For years I have listened to reports from the frontier and have become familiar with the Hu tribes' methods of warfare and troop deployment. This is not the rash impulse of youth. I humbly ask permission to accompany the army north, to drive out the Hu invaders on Your Majesty's behalf, defeat our enemies, and restore peace to the people."
His words were sincere and forthright, without the slightest trace of affectation.
The emperor's gaze was piercing as he regarded Qi Yan for a long while. Seeing that the young prince possessed genuine conviction rather than empty bravado, he felt both admiration and relief. At last, he nodded.
"Excellent! It gladdens my heart that my son possesses such patriotic resolve. I hereby appoint the Second Prince, Qi Yan, as Deputy Commander of the Northern Expedition. I bestow upon you a suit of golden armor and an imperial warhorse. You shall accompany the northern army, assist Marshal Su in defending the frontier, and reclaim our lost territories."
"Your son thanks Father Emperor for his boundless grace."
Qi Yan bowed deeply in gratitude. His manners remained impeccable, his expression as calm and composed as ever.
With the court's business concluded and no objections raised, the officials accepted the imperial decree and dispersed.
As Su Qingcang passed by Qi Yan, he gently patted his grandson's shoulder. Neither spoke a word. A single meaningful glance was enough for grandfather and grandson to understand one another completely.
This campaign was not only to rescue the nation from crisis—it was also Qi Yan's first step beyond the palace walls, his first opportunity to earn military merit. Success or failure, honor or disgrace, would all be decided in this war.
After most of the court had departed, Crown Prince Qi Hong approached with a worried expression.
"Second Brother, you are a prince of the imperial family. Why risk your life on the frontier? They are merely barbarian tribes of the northern steppe. The court has generals to lead the campaign—there is no need for a prince to set foot upon the battlefield himself. Swords and arrows show no mercy, and the frontier is full of danger. Promise me you'll exercise caution in all things and return safely."
Qi Yan turned his gaze toward the crown prince. His expression remained distant and unreadable.
"Thank you for Your Highness's concern. Your younger brother knows his own limits."
Seeing that Qi Yan had no intention of saying more, Qi Hong merely frowned slightly before turning and leaving.
Left alone, Qi Yan stood atop the white jade steps outside the Hall of Supreme Harmony, the wind stirring his robes as he gazed into the distance.
Only at this moment did he truly feel that he finally possessed a chance to stake everything on his future.
For a century, Great Qi had exalted scholars while neglecting soldiers. Civil officials dominated the government, and Crown Prince Qi Hong had been raised in the Confucian classics from an early age. Cultured, refined, and gracious, he enjoyed the unwavering support of the civil bureaucracy and immense prestige throughout the empire. Whether by legitimacy of birth, seniority, or political influence, barring unforeseen events, his eventual succession to the throne after Emperor Xiaoming's passing was all but certain.
To everyone else, Qi Yan was merely an aloof prince with no interest in politics, destined to spend his life as an idle royal, forever beyond any hope of ascending the Dragon Throne.
But now, with the Hu tribes pressing against the borders and the beacon fires of war blazing across the frontier, the empire stood at a turning point.
Qi Yan slowly clenched his fists.
Because of this strange body he inhabited, he appeared cold, detached, indifferent to glory, and uninterested in power. In truth, however, no one possessed a will more unyielding or ambitions more deeply concealed than his.
He believed that only by ascending the Dragon Throne, ruling over the vast empire, and holding the power of life and death in his own hands could he make up for his flawed body and the loneliness that had defined his life.
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