Mount Zhongnan rose high and mighty, like a natural barrier separating the realms of immortals and mortals.
The winding path at the mountain's foot should have been peaceful and secluded, yet it was packed so tightly by the bustling crowd that not even water could trickle through.
The ancient mountain plank road was narrow, with an endless stream of people surging along it.
Chen Ji looked at the unbroken line ahead, his brows tightly furrowed and his face full of helplessness.
"Young Master, it's so crowded. Who knows when we'll reach the summit? Can you still bear it?"
He turned and asked the young man in scholar's robes behind him with concern.
Chen Ji was grumbling inwardly as well.
Given his young master's status, there was naturally no need for him to climb the mountain alongside these mud-legged commoners.
He hoped his young master would change his mind.
But he did not dare reveal even the slightest hint of it.
When the master made a decision, how could a servant dare harbor divided loyalties?
The young man smiled faintly at this.
"It's nothing. Let this journey serve as an outing, and we can admire the beauty of the mountains and rivers."
"Besides, when climbing a mountain to worship at a temple, sincerity brings spiritual response."
After hearing this, Chen Ji did not dare say another word.
With a look of disgust, he shoved the burly man in front of him and reminded him, "Stop squeezing. You're practically pressed against someone else."
Chen Ji pinched his nose. Being crammed together with these lowly commoners was simply too foul-smelling.
He did not know how his incomparably noble master could endure it.
The air was thick with a mixture of stinking sweat and the occasional waft of body odor. It was utterly revolting.
Though the weather was cold, with people packed together in a heap, sweat still poured freely. Fine sweat covered his back, making Chen Ji frown continuously.
These commoners had come from all directions, traveling long distances with no time to attend to personal hygiene. The smell on them was unbearable.
Their greasy hair, one head after another, made him feel even more irritated.
Couldn't they at least take a bath?
The bearded man whom Chen Ji had shoved turned around and glared at him, shouting unhappily:
"You brat, why are you acting like some woman? Everyone's squeezing together. It's not like it'll kill you."
At once, Chen Ji's face flushed bright red. One hand rested on his hip, while the other raised an orchid finger high, just about to explode.
When had he ever suffered such insolence in the Prince's Manor?
Just then.
The young man beside him gave a light cough, interrupting the dispute.
The scholar-robed young man stepped forward on his own initiative and cupped his hands toward the bearded man, wearing a kindly smile.
"Brother, my little brother is out for the first time and does not understand the ways of the world. If he has offended you, please be magnanimous."
The bearded man sized up the scholar-robed youth. Seeing that he was elegantly dressed and carried himself with extraordinary bearing, he did not wish to stir up trouble. He merely snorted coldly and did not pursue the matter further. "Be more careful next time."
Seeing his young master speak, Chen Ji immediately restrained his temper and did not dare make another sound.
He knew that his young master's refined mood could not be disturbed.
What was more, his master had personally apologized for him. How could he continue acting willfully?
Chen Ji lowered his head even further, temporarily forgetting the discomfort of his body.
The white-robed youth did not mind it and said softly:
"Little Ji, when away from home, harmony brings wealth."
Chen Ji hurriedly nodded. "Yes, Young Master."
His attitude became respectful and obedient.
This young man's status was beyond compare. He was the eighth son of the reigning Emperor Qing.
Calling him a True Dragon of the human world would not have been excessive.
Prince Jing—Zhou Cheng.
His mother was an imperial noble consort, and her maternal family was also an aristocratic clan.
He had been granted a princely title at thirteen, and the current Emperor had even praised him before the assembled ministers as a man of both virtue and ability.
At fifteen, he had begun sitting in on court affairs.
At sixteen, he had established his own manor in Kyoto, holding immense authority in his hands.
His favor and prestige were truly immense.
Yet this Eighth Prince possessed a rather unique temperament.
He had been exceptionally intelligent from childhood and, in his younger years, had been obsessed with seeking immortality, asking about the Dao, and studying the Huang-Lao Doctrine.
Later, as the fortunes of the Great Qing Kingdom steadily declined and it suffered defeat after defeat in the north, Zhou Cheng suddenly awakened. "Studying the Dao cannot save the world."
Thus, he resolutely abandoned the Dao and devoted himself to military strategy.
In just a few years, he rose to prominence through debates at the Student Directorate. In literary debates, he defeated several of Great Qing's masters of military strategy in succession, his name shaking Kyoto.
Four years ago, North Wind had marched south with an army of three hundred thousand.
That same year, the Lu Family Army led thirty thousand troops north to the Yellow River.
The two armies faced each other.
The world was shaken by it.
At that time, the one who submitted the most memorials in opposition and spoke with the greatest resolve was Prince Jing, Zhou Cheng.
He was deeply versed in military strategy and knew well that Tuoba Shuyi had grasped its deepest mysteries. Whether deploying troops or arranging formations, he ranked among the finest of the age.
Moreover, the enemy army was overwhelmingly powerful and pressed upon the border. Only by holding dangerous terrain and defending could there be a chance of victory.
Yet the Lu Family Army had marched straight to the Yellow River and openly deployed against the enemy. In Zhou Cheng's eyes, this was no different from using an egg to strike a stone—simply seeking death.
Then Zhou Cheng learned an astonishing piece of news—the true commander of the Lu Family Army was actually a youth barely over twenty.
He had no military experience whatsoever. For the first twenty years of his life, he had merely been a Daoist in a temple, reading scriptures.
This news made Zhou Cheng fly into a rage. In Kyoto, he cursed, "Letting a child command the Luan Kingdom—this is absurd beyond measure!"
He submitted memorial after memorial, demanding Lu Chen's replacement. Yet in the end, Wang Yang, the commander defending Hulao Pass, guaranteed it with his own head and bore the court's censure.
Zhou Cheng was filled with doubts. What was so extraordinary about that young man that he had won the favor of a weighty minister like Wang Yang, enough for Wang Yang to protect him at the risk of his own life?
Unexpectedly, in only three months.
News arrived from the northern battlefield: Lu Chen had led his forces to three battles and three victories.
Zhou Cheng carefully studied the battle reports and praised Lu Chen's methods of warfare without end, believing his maturity did not lose to Tuoba Shuyi's.
He was indeed qualified to command troops.
Yet Zhou Cheng also knew that the Lu Family Army lacked sufficient forces and could only rely on surprise troops to win. In the end, it was no lasting strategy.
Another three months passed. The Lu Family Army became trapped in a heavy encirclement. Zhou Cheng was anxious as fire, gathering his advisers and studying the terrain maps day and night in search of a way to break the enemy.
With everyone pooling their wisdom and strength, they could only reach one conclusion:
Pursuers before and behind, the surging Yellow River at their backs, and Tuoba Shuyi's steady use of troops, with fortified walls and scorched earth—the Lu Family Army had fallen into a dead end, with no path to survival left.
Zhou Cheng knew that even he was powerless to turn the tide. He could only sit and await death.
He let out a long sigh and waited for news of defeat.
Yet half a month later, a report of victory arrived.
Lu Chen had actually led his troops across the Yellow River three times, marched south to join the encirclement, and won a resounding victory.
The world was shocked.
Messengers traveling from the north to Kyoto rode day and night, wearing out ten fine horses.
Holding the victory report, they hammered on the gates of the imperial city and shouted loudly:
"Great victory in the north!"
"Great victory in the north! The Lu Family Army has slain sixty thousand enemy troops!"
Kyoto erupted.
It was a great victory unseen in twenty years.
For a time, fish and dragons danced through the imperial capital overnight.
Zhou Cheng looked at the few hundred words in the battle report.
Between the lines, it was as though iron cavalry crossed frozen rivers, as thousands upon thousands of troops came galloping forth.
For a long time, his heart could not calm.
Especially Lu Chen's final line: "Why should a man not wear a Wu Hook and reclaim the fifty states beyond the passes?"
His heart felt utterly exhilarated, and Prince Jing's Manor laid out a banquet along ten miles of streets.
That day, he summoned many retainers. They sat around the brazier together and analyzed the changing situation of the battle.
They discussed heatedly, each voicing his own opinions. Yet in the end, when all their analyses came together, they all let out the same sigh without prior agreement.
"This man's use of troops is already like that of ghosts and gods."
Over the following year, the Lu Family Army won battle after battle. Across hundreds of engagements, they always defeated the many with the few. They captured Yun Prefecture in half a month and seized Yan Prefecture in one.
Every attack succeeded; every battle was won. The North Wind Army trembled in fear.
When the Lu Clan led two thousand troops across a ferry crossing, thirty thousand northern soldiers fled in panic.
Later, an order circulated through the North Wind Army: any deserter who saw the Lu Clan banner would not be executed.
For a time, this Eighth Prince, once Lu Chen's fiercest opponent, became the one who admired him most.
The saying, "In four hundred years, none has surpassed him in warfare," came from this Eighth Prince.
He actually had another saying, but given his status, no one dared spread it.
"Bowing my head to Shenzhou all my life."
Lu Chen's courtesy name was Shenzhou.
Thank you all for your support.
I'm stunned, brothers. I'm kneeling lightly before you honored readers.
Godfathers, come take a look every day. Following the updates is very important during a new book's launch period!
Before you continue