Chapter 100: An Army Marches South, Chaos Engulfs the Land
Chapter 100: An Army Marches South, Chaos Engulfs the Land
After autumn arrived, the weather began to cool. With Miss Tao’er’s help, Tong Zhihuan finally sorted out his medical notes from the past year.
“My father wants me to take the Imperial Medical Exam, to join the Imperial Hospital someday.”
“What’s the Imperial Hospital?”
“It’s just a place with many doctors.”
“Isn’t that good? Many like-minded people there.”
“But the Imperial Hospital is in Shangjing.”
Tong Zhihuan looked at Miss Tao’er. He really didn’t want to leave.
Miss Tao’er blinked. “Is Shangjing very far away?”
She had never left this mountain and didn’t know how big the outside world was.
Tong Zhihuan opened his mouth to answer. He wanted to say yes, but after thinking, he replied, “No, it’s not far.”
Miss Tao’er said, “Isn’t that good then? You can come back often.”
Tong Zhihuan smiled and said, “I’ll come back often to see you, Miss Tao’er.”
“Who needs you to see me, silly boy.” Miss Tao’er rolled her eyes at him.
Tong Zhihuan chuckled and scratched his head, saying no more.
Moyuan, who was napping under the eaves, slowly opened his eyes. He glanced at Tong Zhihuan and began to think.
A few days later, it was time for Tong Zhihuan to leave the mountain.
Miss Tao’er couldn’t go beyond the mountain’s bounds and could only see him off at the gate of the Taoist Temple.
That day, she gave Tong Zhihuan many peaches—more than he had eaten all his life combined.
“Eat them on the road,” Miss Tao’er said.
Tong Zhihuan stared at the pile of peaches in a daze. Coming back to his senses, he said, “Thank you, Miss Tao’er.”
Miss Tao’er said, “Come back often. Remember to ask me if you don’t understand anything.”
Tong Zhihuan nodded. “I will.”
Moyuan stood nearby, looking thoughtful. Then he said, “I’ll walk him down the mountain.”
Miss Tao’er stood at the temple gate, watching Tong Zhihuan and Moyuan descend the path step by step.
Only after she could no longer see them did she return to the courtyard.
She missed him too.
As Moyuan walked, he suddenly asked, “Shangjing isn’t far?”
“Huh?”
Tong Zhihuan froze.
Moyuan looked at him and smiled. “For Mortals like you, thousands of miles counts as not far?”
Tong Zhihuan sighed helplessly. “So you heard us, Brother Moyuan.”
Moyuan continued, “So, you really plan to return often?”
Tong Zhihuan nodded. “I calculated. Besides other duties, I get three months off each year. If I hurry, I can come back twice a year.”
“Probably not three months,” Moyuan said, looking at him.
Tong Zhihuan didn’t know how to reply. He just nodded silently.
“I don’t get you.”
Moyuan shook his head. “A Mortal’s life is already short, yet you insist on splitting it in two. Don’t you see? These things you do are meaningless. You are just a Mortal!”
“But some Mortals live long lives.”
“Are you pretending, or are you truly dumb?”
Tong Zhihuan looked at Moyuan. He simply smiled, offering no explanation.
Seeing this, Moyuan said nothing more.
He had seen it from the beginning—this kid was truly foolish, and stubborn to boot. A few words wouldn’t change his mind.
Moyuan said, “Your life from now on will likely be full of hardship and wandering. Are you sure?”
Tong Zhihuan looked at Moyuan and smiled. “I’ve been sure for a long time.”
Moyuan watched as a fast horse, carrying the young man, trotted onto the Imperial Road under the glow of the morning sun.
He was puzzled. Are all Mortals like this?
Even after a thousand years of Cultivation, he still couldn’t quite understand.
…
After Tong Zhihuan left, only Moyuan and Tao’er remained at the Taoist Temple.
Perhaps finding the temple too dull, Moyuan started going down the mountain often. Sometimes he traveled far away, not returning for a month or two.
The days felt like they had returned to that very first year.
That year, the temple was locked, and only Tao’er swept the snow from the courtyard.
Autumn passed, winter came.
Tao’er sat alone at the stone table in the courtyard. As she read, she felt something was missing beside her.
In the past, Tong Zhihuan would always be nearby, organizing his medical books. Now it was just her in the yard, strangely quiet and empty.
Losing interest in her book, Tao’er muttered unhappily, “That silly boy. Said he’d come back often. It’s been so long, still no sign.”
She sighed and stopped dwelling on it.
Tao’er glanced at the sky. A cold wind blew by, and she suddenly felt… cold.
An innate Wood Spirit, feeling cold?
This was very strange.
As winter deepened, the weather grew colder.
By the twelfth lunar month, light snow began to fall, much less than in previous years.
Miss Tao’er swept the courtyard as usual.
She swept the snow into a pile and molded it into a person.
But as she sculpted, it started to look… familiar. Strangely, it seemed more and more like that silly boy.
She lost the heart to continue. Sitting beneath the eaves, she closed her eyes, indifferent to everything else.
Thud!
Suddenly, the gate to the Taoist Temple was pushed open.
Miss Tao’er looked up.
A man with a scruffy beard stood at the entrance. Snowflakes dusted his shoulders, hair, even his beard.
“Hoo, hoo…”
Tong Zhihuan’s breath formed white clouds in the air. His face was flushed bright red from the cold.
“Miss Tao’er, I’m back,” Tong Zhihuan said.
Miss Tao’er froze.
Then, a smile spread across her face.
“Silly boy.”
Seeing her smile, Tong Zhihuan instantly forgot the exhaustion of his journey.
…
Everything seemed as beautiful as before.
But fate is unpredictable. Storms arrive without warning.
…
Year 28 of Tianshun. Third Day of the First Month.
The dispute over the Empress appointment raged fiercely in the Imperial Court. The envoys from the Northern Desert exerted unrelenting pressure. After two years of stalemate, the Northern Desert Tribes finally lost patience.
Using the Empress issue as their pretext, they marched their army south!
“ENEMY ATTACK!!!”
Thwick!
A sharp cry was cut short as an arrow pierced a soldier’s throat atop the Fortress Wall. Blood sprayed, staining the City God statue below.
Looking further out, beyond the wall, countless heads filled the landscape miles away. Sixty thousand Northern Desert troops had assembled and now stood menacingly at the gate.
The Frontier Pass was in grave peril!
An emergency message raced eight hundred li, speeding straight to Shangjing.
“REPORT!!”
“Frontier Pass emergency! Sixty thousand Northern Desert troops besiege the pass! Situation critical!”
Emperor Tianshun immediately ordered reinforcements mobilized. A veteran general, long retired, took personal command. Fifty thousand soldiers were rapidly gathered and sent to support the border.
But misfortune never travels alone.
That same year. Nineteenth Day of the First Month!
Another urgent report came from the Northern Frontier.
Beixiang, undisturbed for years, marched thirty thousand troops toward its border gate.
Chaos had begun!
At this moment, fear seized the hearts of officials in the Imperial Court of Great Jing.
The Northern Desert and Beixiang’s combined forces numbered over three hundred thousand. Great Jing, including the Imperial City guard, barely mustered two hundred thousand soldiers. Facing attacks from two fronts, this war was extremely precarious. A single misstep meant utter catastrophe.
In Autumn Moon Market, Tong Zhihuan received the notice immediately.
He was assigned to the accompanying field medics, leading a team to the Frontier Pass. Departure was immediate.
For him, this was undoubtedly bad news.