The Sickly Regent Prince Who Was Abandoned as a Substitute Bride

Chapter 611

"The Uyghur King, in alliance with the Tibetan and Tangut tribes, has amassed 200,000 cavalry and has breached the Jade Gate Pass! Guazhou and Suzhou are in dire need of help; their commanders are desperately trying to deliver messages, pleading for immediate action..." Before the eunuch could finish speaking, the hall erupted in uproar. Military officers rose to their feet, their hands on their swords; the civil officials whispered amongst themselves in panic; Chen Li and the others looked ashen-faced, their memorials slipping silently from their hands.

Zhao Xuan looked up abruptly as if struck by lightning, the flame that had been extinguished in his eyes instantly reigniting. His black armor gleamed coldly in the candlelight, and the old scar on his neck was slightly red with emotion. He crawled forward half a step on his knees, his voice reverberating throughout the hall: "Your Majesty! With the nation in peril, I humbly request to atone for my crimes by going to war! Although the Xuanjia Army has been largely disbanded, the former soldiers are all men of courage and spirit, willing to follow me to the Northwest, to build a Great Wall with our flesh and blood, and to clear our names of the enemy with their heads!"

The Emperor stared into Zhao Xuan's bloodshot eyes, memories flooding back: his resolute act of blocking the sword beneath Chang'an, his candid relinquishment of power—all now overlapped with the burning loyalty before him. He took a deep breath, slowly descended the jade steps, and personally helped Zhao Xuan up. His imperial tassel swept across the general's shoulder: "Zhao Aiqing, I trust you. Keep this tiger tally safe." With that, he placed the bronze tiger tally, engraved with dragon patterns, into Zhao Xuan's palm. "This time, I want you to return alive!" "Thank you, Your Majesty!" Zhao Xuan knelt on one knee, kowtowing heavily, his forehead striking the golden bricks with a dull thud. As he rose, his cloak billowed, and the sword at his waist hummed softly like a dragon's cry. The moment he strode across the threshold of the palace, the cold wind whipped snowflakes against his face, but it couldn't conceal the burning passion in his eyes.

The news spread like wildfire throughout Chang'an. In the twilight of the training grounds, the former Xuanjia Army, silent for months, sprang into action upon hearing the commotion. White-haired veterans, leaning on their rusty spears, trudged in, while young soldiers, carrying brand-new, strong bows, eagerly assembled. When Zhao Xuan appeared on the training grounds riding his black steed, Ta Xue Wu Zhui, three thousand soldiers roared in unison, their shouts toppling the banners across the field.

"Brothers!" Zhao Xuan drew his sword sharply, its blade pointing towards the northwest horizon. "Do you remember the farewell drink we shared at Yanmen Pass? Do you remember how many brothers' loyal bones are buried in the Hexi Corridor? Today, the enemy invades our borders; it is time for us to prove our innocence with our blood! Follow me and kill—"

"Kill! Kill! Kill!" Amidst the earth-shattering shouts, the Xuanjia Army surged out of the city gates like a black torrent. Moonlight shone on the soldiers' armor, like a silver river cascading down to earth. Meanwhile, inside the Golden Palace, Chen Li and his men stared at the empty palace gates, their official robes soaked with cold sweat. They suddenly realized that their meticulously planned scheme had been completely destroyed by a sudden outbreak of war.

A biting north wind whipped up sand and gravel, churning the sky. The Xuanjia Army's iron armor, reflecting the setting sun, resembled a flowing, inky river cleaving the deathly silence of the desert's edge. Zhao Xuan reined in his neighing black horse, a low, furious roar escaping his throat. His black iron spear lashed forward, stirring up a cloud of dust. These three thousand Xuanjia soldiers, his elite troops whom he had personally trained, held their breath, awaiting their commander's order.

"kill!"

With a thunderous roar, Zhao Xuan's warhorse reared up, charging straight at the enemy vanguard like an arrow released from a bow. His black cloak fluttered in the wind, like the wings of death. With a sharp whistling sound as his spear pierced the air, he had already charged into the Uyghur cavalry ranks. Wherever the spear tip grazed, leather armor and flesh were easily torn apart like paper. Warm blood splattered on his cold face, only making his eyes shine even brighter, like cold stars.

When Ashina Lie, the Uyghur king, saw this horrifying scene from the rear, his pupils contracted sharply. He drew his scimitar from his waist and shouted, "Flank from both flanks! Crush these Han people!" Instantly, elite cavalry from both flanks surged forward like a tidal wave, their scimitars reflecting a chilling glint in the setting sun.

The Xuanjia Army soldiers were well-prepared. With a synchronized shout, their shields swiftly assembled into an impenetrable wall. The shield bearers in the front ranks crouched in formation, while the crossbowmen in the rear quickly drew their bows and nocked arrows. As the thunderous hooves of the Uyghur cavalry approached, thousands of arrows pierced the air, weaving a net of death in the twilight. The leading cavalrymen and their horses fell to the ground, and those behind, unable to stop in time, were thrown back, their screams echoing across the battlefield.

The battle reached a stalemate. The Uyghur cavalry, with their numerical advantage, launched repeated charges, while the Xuanjia Army fiercely resisted with their tight formation. When their arrows ran out, both sides engaged in brutal close-quarters combat. Scimitars clashed with spears, creating dazzling sparks, and the stench of blood mingled with dust in the air. Zhao Xuan remained at the forefront, his spear soaked in blood, his body riddled with wounds, yet he fought with ever greater ferocity, striking fear into the hearts of the enemy.

As the last rays of the setting sun sank below the horizon, the battlefield was littered with corpses. The Uyghur king, gazing at his cavalry, which had suffered more than half its losses, looked grim and resolute. He knew that continuing the fight would only result in mutual destruction, and with no other choice, he ordered a retreat. The sound of hooves gradually faded into the distance, leaving only the devastation and lingering smoke of battle.

Zhao Xuan watched the retreating enemy troops in the distance, wearily wiping the blood from his face. He knew that the main force of the Uyghurs was still intact, and he could not let his guard down. "Set up camp on the spot and strengthen vigilance!" His voice, though tired, still carried an undeniable authority. The soldiers quickly sprang into action, setting up tents, digging trenches, and deploying sentry posts, everything proceeding in an orderly manner.

Meanwhile, in the imperial palace a thousand miles away, the atmosphere was equally tense and oppressive. Chen Li and his men paced back and forth in the secret chamber, fine beads of sweat forming on their foreheads. "If Zhao Xuanruo achieves merit in battle, our actions over the years will inevitably be exposed!" one of them said anxiously. Chen Li's face darkened, a ruthless glint flashing in his eyes: "We can't sit idly by and wait to die! We must strike first!"

Soon, a massive net was quietly being cast against Zhao Xuan in the imperial court. Chen Li and his associates colluded with court officials, gathering fabricated charges to impeach Zhao Xuan in court. They believed their plan was foolproof, unaware that their every move had already been observed by the emperor.

Inside the imperial study, the emperor gazed at the border war reports, a meaningful smile playing on his lips. In the flickering candlelight, he slowly set down the secret memorial in his hand and murmured, "It's time to close the net..." A covert battle concerning the power of the court was about to unleash a turbulent storm beneath the seemingly calm surface of the capital.

The morning bell shattered the thin mist of the capital, and the gilded bronze gates slowly opened, allowing civil and military officials to file in. Chen Li stroked the impeachment memorial he had prepared in his sleeve, his fingertips trembling slightly. As the tolling of the bells and drums subsided, he suddenly swung his ivory tablet, stepping on the frost-covered cracks in the blue bricks as he strode out of the ranks, followed by a dozen or so ministers in scarlet robes, like a swarm of sharks that had caught the scent of blood.

"Your Majesty! Zhao Xuan is amassing military power and plotting a rebellion!" Chen Li's voice echoed in the empty hall, startling the bronze bells on the eaves. He unfurled a scroll, on which twelve charges were densely listed: embezzling military pay, colluding with foreign enemies, raising assassins... Each charge stirred a commotion in the court. The Right Chancellor stroked his beard and sneered, the Vice Minister of Rites nodded repeatedly, only the old minister Zhang Cheng gripped his tablet, his veins bulging, hesitant to speak.

The emperor, reclining on the dragon throne, unconsciously tapped the dragon patterns on the armrests with his fingertips. Morning light streamed through the stained-glass windows, illuminating his face and highlighting the fine lines around his eyes. When Chen Li read the phrase "secretly forging weapons with treacherous intent," he suddenly chuckled, a laugh like a blade chilled to ice, instantly cleaving through the clamor of discussion.

"Enough." The emperor's voice was not loud, but it silenced the entire court instantly. He slowly rose, the golden dragon on his black dragon robe baring its claws with his movements. "General Zhao drank snow water and ate hard bread in the northwest, defeating 20,000 iron cavalry with 3,000 Xuanjia soldiers, and you're here saying he's plotting a rebellion?" Before he finished speaking, the bronze incense burner on the jade table crashed to the ground, the incense ash scattering on the blue bricks like splashes of blood.

Chen Li knelt down with a thud, his forehead pressed against the cold floor tiles: "Your Majesty, please investigate! This evidence is all..."

"Evidence?" The emperor suddenly grabbed a memorial from the table and slammed it down in front of Chen Li. The paper scattered on the ground, ink stains spreading and forming grotesque patches between the bricks. "I had it investigated! The so-called 'embezzlement of military pay' ledgers are nothing but forged pieces of waste paper!" He glared at the assembled officials. "Guards! Throw these treacherous officials into the imperial prison! When General Zhao returns in triumph, I will have them kneeling to await their fate!"

The clanging of armor suddenly erupted outside the hall, and imperial guards surged in like a tidal wave. Chen Li collapsed to the ground, his cloud-embroidered official boots kicking over a colleague's official hat in the chaos. As he was dragged out of the hall, he heard the sound of his own official robes tearing, mingling with the cries of other ministers, echoing among the carved beams and painted rafters.

Meanwhile, on the northwestern battlefield, twilight was draping the Gobi Desert in a purple robe. Zhao Xuan stood atop a sand dune, gazing at the distant Uyghur camp where smoke curled from its chimneys, his fingertips gently tracing the vine-like patterns on his black iron spear. Three days ago, he had deliberately feigned weakness and retreated, luring the Uyghur King Ashina Lie to pursue him for a hundred miles. Now, his Xuanjia army had already laid down powerful crossbows and rolling stones in the valleys on both sides, waiting for their prey to fall into the trap.

"Report—! The Uyghur vanguard has crossed the Qing Shi Beach!" The scout's voice was torn to shreds by the wind. Zhao Xuan raised his hand, and the three thousand Xuanjia soldiers instantly disappeared into the twilight, only the tips of their spears gleaming with a cold, eerie blue light under the moonlight. The moment the Uyghur cavalry stepped into the canyon, horns ripped through the night sky, and a volley of arrows rained down like a torrential downpour, while boulders roared down the mountainside. Ashina Lie's warhorse reared up in alarm, and he brandished his scimitar, attempting to organize a counterattack, only to see torches blazing on the mountain peaks on both sides, and the Xuanjia soldiers shouting in unison, their voices echoing across the land.

The battle raged until dawn. By the time the first rays of sunlight pierced the clouds, the Uyghur camp was reduced to ruins. Ashina Lie broke through the encirclement alone, followed by only a few riders. Zhao Xuan watched his departing figure, then plunged his blood-stained spear heavily into the sand. The battle banner fluttered in the wind, the character "Zhao" on it soaked in blood, yet appearing all the more vivid and striking.

Half a month later, the Zhuque Avenue in the capital was packed with eagerly awaiting citizens. A chariot drawn by eight white horses slowly entered the city gates. Zhao Xuan, draped in a black cloak, sat atop it, the newly bestowed seal of the Grand General of the Nation gleaming in the sunlight. The Emperor personally went ten miles outside the city to greet him, shaking his hand and smiling, "My dear minister, this campaign has relieved me of a great calamity!" Meanwhile, deep within the imperial prison, Chen Li and his men huddled in a damp corner, listening to the distant cheers, finally tasting the bitter fruit of their own making.

Inside the Vermilion Bird Hall, gilded bronze animal-head candlesticks bathed the night in an amber hue. The melodious strains of string and wind instruments filled the celebratory banquet, and dancers, their flowing sleeves scattering delicate gold leaf. Zhao Xuan, clad in his newly bestowed robe embroidered with a qilin, sat to the right of the emperor, the fine wine in his cup reflecting the flickering candlelight, creating a dazzling glow.

"General Zhao's victory in this battle truly turned the tide!" The Minister of Revenue bowed as he stepped forward, holding a white jade cup, the wine rippling in the cup. "Such an achievement should be recorded in history!" Immediately afterward, the Vice Minister of Justice and the Chief of the Ministry of Works arrived one after another, showering him with praise. Zhao Xuan smiled and returned their compliments, but his gaze inadvertently swept over the shadowy corner of the hall—there, several officials who had once been close to Chen Li were whispering amongst themselves, their eyes gleaming.

As the night wind swept past the palace walls, carrying lingering snow, Zhao Xuan stood alone under the eaves. His long, black iron spear leaned against a vermilion pillar; though the bloodstains on the tassel had been washed away, a faint dark red remained. He stroked the newly bestowed jade pendant at his waist, recalling the half-rolled fold that had slipped from the emperor's sleeve when he patted his shoulder earlier that day. In that instant, he had clearly glimpsed the words "treason" at the fold, like the spitting tongue of a venomous snake.

Three days later, the snow cleared and the sky brightened. As Zhao Xuan practiced military formations at the military camp's drill ground, an imperial guard rushed in carrying a bright yellow scroll. Unfolding the scroll, it revealed a tactful imperial edict: "Recently, there has been much discussion in the court. General Zhao is requested to temporarily suspend military affairs and enter the palace for a discussion." Gazing at the distant, continuous city walls, he suddenly recalled his mother's dying words before he set out on the campaign: "No merit can surpass that of the emperor; no talent can deceive the sovereign."

The moment one stepped into the imperial study, the scent of sandalwood mingled with the fragrance of ink wafted towards them. The emperor held a plain white letter in his hand, the candlelight projecting the words onto a dragon-patterned screen. The words, "Zhao Xuan is colluding with the Uyghurs, plotting treason," twisted into a grotesque shape on the wall. "Does my beloved minister know of this letter?" the emperor asked calmly, his fingertips creasing the edge of the letter.

Zhao Xuan unfastened the sword from his waist and knelt heavily on the ground: "Your Majesty, I am willing to lay bare my heart to prove my innocence! Since following Your Majesty, I have fought in countless battles without a single complaint. If I have uttered even the slightest falsehood, may I be struck down by heaven and earth!" When he raised his head, there was a bloody mark on his forehead from the blue brick, but his gaze was sharper than the black iron spear. "I implore Your Majesty to investigate thoroughly, lest loyal and virtuous people be disheartened!"

For the next ten days, undercurrents surged in the capital. The Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, leading the Imperial Guards, searched far and wide, from teahouses and taverns to officials' private residences, even leaving no stone unturned in dilapidated temples outside the city. Zhao Xuan secluded himself, refusing visitors, and every morning he practiced his spear in the courtyard, the wind from his spear swirling up the remaining snow, drawing sharp arcs across the ground. Finally, when the fourth snow fell, the truth gradually surfaced, like unraveling a mystery.

It turned out that the remnants of Ashina Lie, the Uyghur king, had colluded with disgruntled officials in the court, bribing local ruffians with large sums of money to forge documents, and even bribing a lieutenant general in Zhao Xuan's army. The "conclusive evidence" in the anonymous letter was nothing more than an elaborate trap. In the imperial study, when the Minister of the Court of Judicial Review presented the forged account books, secret correspondence, and signed confessions, the emperor flew into a rage and smashed the inkstone on the screen. The splattered ink spread across the dragon statue, resembling dragon blood.