"Shan'er."
Yuwen Chui's pupils contracted sharply as he stared fixedly at the place where the blood mist had scattered, unable to suppress a pained groan.
This time, as he led his troops south, he had been determined to win. By claiming the great merit of destroying a nation, he could not only settle an old grievance from his early years, but also regain his imperial brother's trust.
For this, he had spared no expense in sending his own son ahead to take up position in the Li Dynasty capital, where he carried out schemes of sowing discord, splitting factions, and applying pressure.
First, break the martial artists' fighting spirit in the southern court. Then bring the army beneath the city walls, gnaw at their bones and suck their marrow. Finally, when the entire southern court had lost all will to fight, breach the city and enter, washing the capital in blood.
Everything before this had gone perfectly, no different from the plan laid down before the war.
The Southern Li had been scared out of their wits, and most sect martial artists had already grown disaffected. The civil and military officials throughout the court all intended to surrender. It had seemed that once Great Zhou's forces reached Weijing's walls, they would breach the city in a single burst.
And yet?
Just after crossing the river, he heard that his precious son had been beaten to death alive upon the Vermillion Bird Platform, dying an incomparably miserable death.
All thirty-six men who had accompanied him had died as well, their corpses hung from the city gates...
That much could still be endured.
For Northern Zhou's unification of the realm, losing one or two sons, though tragic, was not wholly unacceptable.
But soon afterward, he heard once more... that nearly all the