The Sickly Regent Prince Who Was Abandoned as a Substitute Bride

Chapter 614

Zhao Xuan looked at the soldiers from Jiangnan in the army formation. Their knuckles were white as they gripped the letters from home, and their eyes burned with anxiety and longing.

Inside the central command tent, the sheepskin map trembled slightly in the candlelight. Zhao Xuan's fingertips traced the winding Huai River, then moved to the beacon tower markings on the northwest defense line. Outside the tent, his lieutenant, Zhang Meng, shouted in a gruff voice, "General, send ten thousand men! We'll wipe out those corrupt officials and bandits in one fell swoop!" Zhao Xuan slowly shook his head: "Floods are different from war; we need twenty thousand elite troops, with ample boats and provisions." He took the tiger tally from his waist, split it in two, and said, "You set off immediately, remembering that appeasing the people is paramount."

The army continued westward, the snow-capped peaks of the Qilian Mountains becoming faintly visible. Suddenly, a muffled explosion like thunder resounded from ahead—the Tibetan ambush troops emerged from both sides of the valley! Lobs and rocks rained down, arrows sparking against armor. Zhao Xuan abruptly removed his helmet, revealing a blood-stained forehead: "Form a shield formation!" He spurred his horse into the enemy ranks, his spear flashing like a silver dragon emerging from the abyss, sending three Tibetan cavalrymen flying. In the chaos, he caught sight of a Tibetan general holding a command flag on the hillside, drew his crossbow from his waist, and with a flash of cold light, sent the general screaming as he tumbled down the cliff.

During a late-night rest, the commander of the Shadow Guard, soaking wet, burst into the tent: "General, although Wang Jingwen is dead, his henchman—Zhou Chongli, the Minister of Rites—has secretly colluded with the Left Chancellor of Tibet, sending people to spread rumors in the Hexi Corridor that our army's food supplies have run out!" Zhao Xuan stared at the flickering candlelight, recalling the amulet his elderly mother had stuffed into his bag before his departure, and suddenly sneered: "Pass on my order: tomorrow, the entire army will make a grand display of cooking, letting the smoke blot out the sky!"

When the army arrived at Yumen Pass, the sight before them sent chills down the spines of the soldiers. The Tibetans had erected three lines of chevaux-de-frise before the pass, their trenches filled with poisoned bamboo spikes, and the catapults on the city walls gleamed with a chilling blue light. Zhao Xuan, draped in a straw raincoat, crept along the Gobi Desert in the rainy night, the mud reaching his knees, yet he bent down and scooped up a handful of sand to examine it carefully. Back in his tent, he spread out a parchment, dipped it in vermilion, and drew a winding red line: "You see," he said, "the Tibetans thought themselves invincible, but they forgot about the tributaries of the Shule River..."

On a dark and windy midnight, three hundred assassins, their bodies smeared with soot, waded into the icy river on sheepskin rafts. Zhao Xuan, gripping a gleaming dagger, led the way. A deafening roar, like muffled thunder, echoed from upstream—a pre-arranged feint attack. As the Tibetan defenders charged towards the city gate, he swiftly lashed out his grappling hook, leading his men to scale the steep city wall. The clappers on the wall abruptly ceased, and blood splattered onto the high-flying wolf-head battle flag, staining it even more crimson.

At this moment, amidst the floods of Jiangnan, Zhang Meng wielded his broadsword, cleaving through the bandits' camp; while in the night of the Northwest, Zhao Xuan's black iron armor gleamed coldly in the moonlight. The beacon fires of the two cities, shining under different skies, reflected each other, like the unyielding eyes of this dynasty, forever vigilantly watching over all directions.

The wind and sand outside Yumen Pass, swirling with the setting sun, dyed the city walls a golden-red. Zhao Xuan, his hand on the sword at his waist, watched the soldiers gradually returning to their camp below, a weary yet gratified smile finally appearing on his face. Three days ago, he personally led his iron cavalry to break through the Xiongnu's encirclement, forcefully recaptured this strategic pass, guarding the throat of the Western Regions, from the yellow sands. Now, the Han flags fluttering atop the gate tower proclaimed the victory of this hard-fought battle.

"General, it's time to rest." The lieutenant stepped forward with a bowl of hot soup, his voice filled with admiration. "With the Jade Gate Pass breached, the northwest defense line can finally catch its breath."

Zhao Xuan took the soup bowl, his fingertips touching its warmth. Just as he was about to speak, a guard rode up from inside the pass, looking flustered, holding a letter sealed with wax. The words "Urgent" printed on the wax gleamed a blinding red in the setting sun.

"General! A secret letter from the capital, delivered with utmost urgency!" The guard dismounted, knelt on one knee, and held the letter high above his head.

Zhao Xuan's heart sank. The great battle had barely ended, so why would an urgent secret letter arrive from the capital? He took the letter, his fingers unsealing the sealing wax, and pulled out the silk scroll inside. The few lines of text, though brief, were like an icy dagger, instantly piercing his newly relaxed nerves—every word in the letter accused him of wielding too much military power, claiming he had long held military control in the Northwest, and this…

The setting sun, like blood, spilled across the bricks of Yumen Pass, casting Zhao Xuan's long, thin shadow. His knuckles, gripping the silk scroll, had turned pale. The ink on the silk seemed to come alive, each word twisting before his eyes—"Having long held military power in the Northwest, I fear he harbors rebellious intentions after this great victory." These few words, like poisoned ice picks, pierced his very soul.

Three days ago, he led his troops in a bloody battle against the main force of the Xiongnu Left Wise King at the pass. Despite being struck in the left arm by an arrow, he fought to the death, losing nearly half of his personal guards before recapturing the formidable pass. The broken blades of arrowheads still remain on the city walls, and the sand dunes below are littered with unburied bones—are these irrefutable proof of his "rebellion"? A metallic taste rose in Zhao Xuan's throat, the veins on the back of his hands throbbed, and even the tassel of the sword at his waist trembled slightly.

"General?" Lieutenant Li Hu's voice was choked with sobs. He had only crawled out of a pile of corpses two days ago, and the bloodstains on his armor hadn't even dried yet. As he approached Zhao Xuan, seeing his ashen face, he hurriedly asked, "What did the letter from the capital say?"

Zhao Xuan closed his eyes briefly and handed over the silk scroll. The wind whipped sand across the silk, creating a soft, rustling sound, almost mocking the absurd accusation. Li Hu, with a rudimentary understanding of literature, painstakingly deciphered each word. When he reached the word "treason," he clenched the scroll into a ball and roared, "Bullshit! These cowards hiding in the capital! We're risking our lives here to guard the nation's borders, and they're scheming against their own brothers!"

The roar startled the nearby guards, and several of them gathered around, their faces filled with surprise and suspicion. Zhao Xuan caught a glimpse of their whispered exchanges, and the chill in his heart intensified—suspicion was the worst thing in the army, and this letter had arrived so suspiciously, clearly intended to sow discord among his troops.

"Disperse, all of you," Zhao Xuan commanded in a deep voice, his tone carrying an undeniable authority. The guards hurriedly retreated, but Li Hu remained standing there, fuming, veins bulging on his forehead: "General, this matter cannot be left like this! We must give the brothers an explanation!"

Zhao Xuan looked up into the distance. The setting sun was sinking into the Qilian Mountains, the last rays of golden light sweeping across the Gobi Desert, casting silhouettes of distant beacon towers. He recalled his arrival in the Northwest ten years ago, a time of desolation where the Xiongnu could come and go as they pleased, and the people huddled behind mud walls, trembling in fear. It was he who led his brothers to carve canals through mountains, cultivate land, and train troops, building this defensive line with their blood and sweat. Now, with the border barely secured, undercurrents from the capital had already reached the Jade Gate Pass. Who was stirring up trouble behind the scenes, using such insidious means to frame him?

"An explanation?" Zhao Xuan sneered, tapping his knuckles heavily on the hilt of his sword. "What we need most right now is an explanation for the Emperor."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the sound of horses' hooves came from within the pass. This time, it was Qin Feng, the commander of the Shadow Guard. This man was usually calm and composed, but now his face was grave. He dismounted and said urgently, "General, I just received a message from our spies that the people from the Censorate have left the capital with the Emperor's edict. They say they are here to 'verify military merits and appease the troops,' but in reality... they are here to investigate you."

"Checking military merits?" Zhao Xuan frowned. "What do they want to check? How many Xiongnu heads I've slain, or how much blood my brothers have shed?"

Qin Feng lowered his voice: "The informant said that Zhou Chongli submitted a memorial to the court, saying that after you recaptured Yumen Pass, you took in three thousand surrendered Xiongnu soldiers and secretly opened granaries to provide relief to refugees. It is clear that you are cultivating your own power. He also said that... you are delaying your return to the capital because you are waiting for the right time to establish yourself as king in the Northwest."

"Zhou Chongli!" Zhao Xuan clenched his fist tightly, blood seeping from between his fingers. He had long known that this Grand Tutor was at odds with him, but he never expected that the other party would resort to such despicable means to frame a loyal official when the country was in peril. The three thousand surrendered soldiers were mostly the elderly, weak, women, and children, and their secret opening of the granary was to stabilize the livelihood within the pass. Yet, in Zhou Chongli's mouth, all of this became evidence of treason.

Li Hu, listening from the side, gritted his teeth: "General, this is clearly a trap! Once that censor arrives, he's bound to suffer! Perhaps..." He made a gesture of drawing his sword, a ruthless glint in his eyes.

"Foolish!" Zhao Xuan interrupted him sharply. "Whom should we draw our swords against? The censor? Or the capital? That would truly be treason!" He took a deep breath, trying to suppress his surging anger. "That's exactly the result Zhou Chongli wants. I won't let him succeed."

Qin Feng said anxiously, "But the censor has come with the emperor's decree. If he is accused of treason, he won't be able to defend himself no matter how hard he tries!"

Zhao Xuan remained silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the sentries patrolling the city walls, then turning to the barracks inside the pass where smoke curled from their chimneys. There were wounded soldiers who had just retreated from the front lines, quartermasters mending their armor, and refugees waiting for him to distribute provisions. If he disobeyed orders, Yumen Pass would immediately descend into chaos, the Xiongnu could launch a counterattack at any moment, and ten years of hard work would be destroyed in an instant.

"Prepare your luggage." Zhao Xuan suddenly spoke, his voice so calm it was unsettling. "I'm going back to the capital with the Imperial Censor."

"General!" Li Hu and Qin Feng exclaimed simultaneously.

“Yumen Pass cannot be compromised.” Zhao Xuan looked at Li Hu with earnest eyes. “You watched this pass rise from the ruins. Now, guard it well, guard the brothers well, and wait for my return.” He then turned to Qin Feng, “Send a message to our spies in the capital, and tell them to keep a close eye on Zhou Chongli’s movements. Report any news immediately.”

Seeing that he had made up his mind, the two men had no choice but to bow and accept the order. Zhao Xuan took off the military tally from his waist and stuffed it into Li Hu's hand: "Whoever holds this tally is as if I were personally present. If anyone dares to spread rumors in the army, I will execute them first and report later."

Li Hu took the military tally, the heavy bronze weight digging painfully into his palm. His eyes welled up with tears, and he choked out, "This humble general has been waiting for your return!"

Zhao Xuan nodded, turned, and walked towards his warhorse. His guards had already prepared his luggage; a simple bag was strapped to the saddle, containing no gold or silver, only a few changes of clothes and a military book. He mounted his horse, took one last look at the fluttering Han banner, turned his horse around, and rode into the deepening twilight towards the interior of the pass.

The horse's hooves clattered on the stone path, their sound particularly clear in the quiet twilight. Zhao Xuan knew this road was more treacherous than the battlefield at Yumen Pass—the swordplay and intrigue in the imperial court were unseen and intangible, yet capable of killing without a trace. But he had no choice; for the sake of his brothers at the border, for the sake of ten years of blood and sweat, he had to venture forth.

As night deepened, torches lit up the city walls of Yumen Pass, their scattered light spreading along the walls like a fiery dragon guarding the territory. Meanwhile, a thousand miles away in the capital, a storm surrounding him was slowly unfolding with the arrival of the imperial censor's carriage.

Night fell swiftly at Yumen Pass. The setting sun had barely dipped below the horizon when a thick twilight enveloped the city walls, painting the land inside and outside the pass a deep, inky blue. Torches lit up one after another on the walls, spreading along the winding crenellations like a fiery dragon leaping across the vast Gobi Desert. The torchlight illuminated Zhao Xuan's departing figure. He wore a dark, close-fitting outfit, the tassel of his sword swaying gently with each step. Though alone, his spine was straighter than the pillars of the gate tower, like an ancient sword yet to be drawn, concealing a formidable sharpness.

“General…” Li Hu stood on the city wall, watching the figure disappear into the night, his hand unconsciously tightening around the military tally at his waist. The wind swirled sand past his ears, like the whispers of countless fallen comrades. He suddenly remembered Zhao Xuan's words before his departure—“To defend Yumen Pass is to defend my innocence.” His Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily, and he abruptly turned to his personal guards, shouting, “Increase the sentry posts! No one is allowed to enter or leave the pass without authorization. Anyone who disobeys will be executed!”

Meanwhile, a thousand miles away on the canal, an ebony official boat cleaved through the shimmering water, the "Imperial Censorate" lantern hanging at its bow particularly conspicuous in the twilight. Imperial Censor Wang Xian stood with his hands behind his back at the bow, the hem of his brocade robe billowing in the river breeze, revealing the gold fish-shaped tally hanging at his waist. He tightly clutched a roll of bright yellow silk, a handwritten edict from the Emperor, his fingertips repeatedly tracing the eight characters: "Investigate thoroughly and report the facts," his eyes, however, remained unfathomable.

"My lord, we will arrive in the capital in two more nights." The accompanying clerk stepped forward and carefully handed over a cloak. "It's chilly at night, please take care not to catch a cold."

Wang Xian didn't accept the cloak, but merely snorted coldly, "Grand Tutor Zhou's intention is to let Zhao Xuan taste the bitterness of being a prisoner right at the capital's gates. If this mission is handled well, we can secure our positions in the Censorate." He suddenly raised his hand, bringing the imperial edict close to his eyes, examining it closely by the light of the ship's lamp, a cold smile curling at the corner of his lips, "Zhao Xuan, Zhao Xuan, so what if you terrified the Xiongnu in the Northwest? Once you're in the capital, don't you still have to defer to us?"

The creaking of oars came from the stern. Wang Xian gazed at the reeds rushing past on both banks and suddenly remembered Zhou Chongli's instructions before he left the capital—"Zhao Xuan has many followers. We cannot give him a chance to breathe. We must capture him as soon as we enter the city and cut off his possibility of colluding with court officials." He tapped his fingertips lightly on the gunwale, as if he were calculating how to fabricate even heavier charges against Zhao Xuan.

Seven days later, at Mingde Gate in the capital.