Chapter 132 The Dance of Fire Around the Spear Tip Never Ends
"Put them on quickly," Xiao Yan's smiling voice rang out behind Yang Xiao. "When midnight arrives, it will be the new year, and the whole city will set off fireworks and firecrackers. Such a magnificent sight is definitely worth watching."
Before she could finish speaking, a bell rang out. Yang Xiao got up and took a few steps forward. Looking at the burst of iron sparks that suddenly exploded in the sky, she felt a little dazed. A ball of raging fire on the sword suddenly flashed through her heart again.
She looked up at the cascading sparks of fire, and saw a man standing in front of the pavilion, carrying a gun.
Memories of the past, along with these scattered sparks, flooded Yang Xiao's mind, stirring ripples in her heart. Molten iron poured into her heart, causing it to boil.
The mirror in my heart suddenly shattered, and all the unforgettable memories were instantly reflected on the scattered fragments, sparkling like starlight, reflecting each other.
She suddenly opened her eyes, her heart pounding with the rhythm of the war drums. Without time to think, she seized the moment and tied the red ribbon wrapped around her hand to the tip of her spear.
In an instant, the fluttering red ribbons ignited like flames on the spear tip, flying up and down with the thrusting and stabbing of the spear tip, the sound of piercing the air and the drumbeats striking the hearts of everyone present.
Her figure gradually merged with Zhongli Shuo's sword-wielding figure from many years ago. The raging flames on the longsword now transformed into a red ribbon tied to the spear tip, but the overwhelming shower of iron sparks remained unchanged. The people's longing for a prosperous era also remained unchanged.
A hazy, intoxicating feeling washed over her once more, and she simply let herself become absorbed in it, recklessly wielding her spear to the beat of the drums.
Under the interplay of moonlight and firelight, the white shadow cast by the spear tip and the red ribbon dancing like a dragon intertwined and fought each other, like two small dragons vying for the moon, or as if chasing each other in battle for the will of heaven and earth.
As the new year begins and midnight arrives, General Yang Xiao's lifelong perseverance, aspirations, thoughts, and vitality seem to come alive, freely spreading across the vast天地 (heaven and earth).
With the moon as a candle and fire as a curtain, under this interplay of intense and cold light, within the endless cycle of red silk and white shadows, and amidst this powerful and agile figure, the reason for fighting finds its best explanation.
The silver spear was constantly being brandished, as if it were the instrument that activated the entire Chang'an Formation. The continuous drumbeats were the heartbeat of the formation, the rising and falling sparks were its breath, and the joyful people coming and going within the formation were its ever-flowing blood.
The Chang'an Formation operates continuously, moving the world's situation with the force of flying clouds and swirling mist. Jiangnan abandons the old darkness and seeks new light, Beiqiang pushes aside old grievances and embraces truth, and Guandong stands by its abyss and stirs up its waves. These three forces merge with the formation's core and will sweep across the four seas and unify the world at the time of the alternation of sun and moon.
The drumbeats gradually stopped, fireworks fell one after another, and Yang Xiao planted the gun in his hand on the ground, panting heavily, and stood up and looked up at the sky.
A series of fleeting sparks reflected in her eyes, gradually melting the snowfield in her heart. She suddenly swung her fist towards the sky, as if bumping fists with her former comrades-in-arms, a surge of passion welling up in her heart.
The last spark illuminated Yang Xiao's solitary figure, hidden in the silence of the night. The fragmented memories that had moved with the gun's tip gradually settled back into her heart, gathering their ripples into a pool. She opened her arms wide, feeling the long-awaited east wind, embracing it tightly.
Although she was alone in this dangerous place, the loneliness and desolation she had felt earlier vanished in an instant. Yang Xiao's eyes were slightly closed, but her heart was fuller than ever since she arrived here. Her heart was burning with warmth. The thoughts and expectations of her lover and friends, and the lofty aspirations of her comrades and colleagues, all surged into her heart with the east wind and seeped into her very bones.
There is no such thing as the separation of the sun and moon. If hearts are united and never scattered, what difference is there between people?
Yang Xiao opened her eyes, looked at the hazy moonlight, let out a long sigh, and then, out of the corner of her eye, saw the red ribbon fluttering in the east wind. She then turned around abruptly.
Old friends are like inscriptions, new acquaintances are like ink; the marks and ink traces intertwine and paint in her heart, leaving behind fragments of poetry.
She pulled the gun from the ground, smiled, and walked towards the two people in the pavilion, but the look of longing for her family was no longer visible in her eyes.
Although we are in different places, we are true friends and have never been apart.
-
As the year draws to a close, the Central Plains begin to recover, but the northern Qiang region, in its coldest of places, remains a land of ice and snow. Only wolves and snow foxes hunt in the vast wilderness; the rest of the land is devoid of any sign of life.
The north wind howled, and heavy snow fell endlessly, blanketing the land. Smoke rose from chimneys across the snowy plains of Beiqiang, billowing black plumes that rose with the howling wind and dispersed into the air.
The sound of horses' hooves swept past outside the tent, which was filled with the aroma of milk and wine. The Qiang king raised his hand to stop his subordinates from speaking and quietly looked up to wait.
"Report! Your Majesty!" A moment later, a scout galloped to the main tent, dismounted, ran a few steps, and knelt inside. "Eight envoys from Chang'an arrived with five hundred soldiers, and we have detained them all."
"Hahahaha..." The Qiang king, wearing a fur hat, laughed heartily upon hearing this. He put down the wine pot in his hand on the table, bent over and supported himself on his knees, and looked up at the soldiers kneeling in front of the tent. "These past few days, there have been quite a few envoys."
A whole tiger skin hung on the wall behind the Qiang King. His fierce, unrestrained, and angry eyes were staring intently at the soldier in front of him, as if those eyes were from the tiger behind him.
“Tell me,” a soldier from the Qiang Dynasty raised his head, “what is their purpose?”
"They say the princess's bone flute was lost by the Yang family, and they want you to send troops to hold the Chixiao Prefecture accountable."
"The bone flute is lost, and they ask me to send troops?" The Qiang king laughed as if he had heard an unprecedented joke. "He sent five hundred men to attack all the way here, and he dares to use the word 'ask'? Is this the kind of etiquette the people of the Central Plains have!"
At the same time, a loud "bang" was heard, and the Qiang King slammed his hand on the table and stood up abruptly. His eyes were filled with boundless rage, but he did not notice at all that the Central Plains scholar covered in blood at the entrance of the tent was struggling to sit up and looking at him with a furrowed brow.
"Go, bring the leader here, and imprison the rest. If anyone objects," the Qiang king slammed his hand on the table, "I don't need to teach you anything."
"yes."
The scout turned and left, and a moment later, a richly dressed scholar was escorted into the tent. His disfigured face was still held high with arrogance, but the magnificent hat on his head was askew.
The Qiang king squinted and smiled at him as if he were looking at some clown. "Speak," he said, gesturing to the man, "why did you lead your troops to invade our army? Who gave you these orders?"
"Your Majesty," the newcomer said, still defiant, raising his head and bowing to the Qiang King, "my name is Jiang Wen. I came here on the orders of my general to join you in conquering Chixiao Palace. But who knew that you would beat us up without even asking what happened? As an allied nation, how can you show such disrespect to my general?"
"Face?" The Qiang king looked up at him and couldn't help but sneer. "In the Central Plains, I only gave face to Emperor Ping and Yang Zhen. As for the general you mentioned, I've never heard of him."
"you……"
"Furthermore," the Qiang King leaned forward, "the Chixiao Palace is related to me by marriage. Why should I join forces with an unknown nobody to attack the Chixiao Palace?"
The rough voice, mixed with waves of oppressive force, sent chills down the spines of everyone in the tent.
Upon hearing this, Jiang Wen's spine inexplicably stiffened. He swung his arms and looked up at the Qiang King, "Your Majesty, you are unaware of this. Yang Zhen and his children lost the princess's heirloom—the Snow Eagle Bone Flute. Such contempt for you and the princess—how can we not send troops to punish them?"
"Snow Eagle Bone Flute..." Upon hearing this, the Qiang King couldn't help but laugh. "That was originally a gift I found for the princess's birthday. My two grandsons lost a bone flute, would I hold it against them?"
"Can……"
"In your great general's eyes, am I such a petty and narrow-minded person?" Before Jiang Wen could speak, the Qiang king shouted sharply, causing the entire tent to tremble. "Moreover," he stood up, raising his hand to twirl the exquisitely crafted bone flute, "look at this, what is it?"
Jiang Wen's eyes widened instantly. He craned his neck to look ahead in disbelief. "How is this possible... Yang Xiao was clearly in the hall..."
"If you can't even see through a child's thoughts, what kind of general are you?" The Qiang King chuckled and glanced at the scholar covered in wounds at the door. "Guards," he said, raising his head slightly, "bring him here."
The soldiers rushed forward, lifted the scholar up, and carried him to the Qiang king.
"Qi Kun, Qi Gu Fan." The Qiang king looked at the scholar's humble yet confident face and slowly walked down the stage. "He broke into my camp alone and then used his death to show his determination to save the world."
Qi Kun lay prostrate on the ground, cautiously watching the Qiang King's gait, constantly regulating his breathing.
"What do you think," the Qiang king said, stepping behind Jiang Wen and towering a head above his comical hat, "if I were to actually send troops, whom would I help?"
Jiang Wen's legs went weak, and he knelt on the ground with a thud. "Your Majesty, Qi Kun is a strategist under Zhongli An. How can he be compared to our general? Moreover, Yang Xiao himself told us that the bone flute was lost in front of us..."
"The bone flute that Qi Kun brought was given to me personally by Yang Xiao!" The Qiang King roared, and the tent fell silent instantly. Only the echo of the Qiang King's rebuke resounded in the empty tent.
"Guards!" The Qiang King sat back down and slammed his hand on the table again. "Send this bastard back to his Chang'an. As for the rest, kill them without mercy."
"yes!"
Before Jiang Wen could react, several strong soldiers rushed forward and swept him out of the tent. After a while, a bloodcurdling scream drifted into the tent from afar.
The Qiang king snorted coldly, then closed his eyes, concealing his fierce expression, and looked down at Qi Kun with a kind gaze.
"Qi Kun".
"Yes." Qi Kun remained prostrate on the ground, frowning as he looked up at the Qiang King.
"I have granted your request."
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