Chapter 50: Yan Xinfeng!!! Part 1

When Wei Tingxia woke up again, he felt like the environment around him was about to explode. The red light was blinding. After he adjusted a bit, he realized it really was a precursor to an explosion, but not of the room—it was the world.

“Red is now my most hated color,” he rolled over, trying to dodge the countdown display. “When I get back, I’ll remove all the red decorations from home.”

[I completely agree,] System 0188, glowing red all over, said. [Do you feel a bit better now?]

Wei Tingxia blinked. “It’s okay. Pretty clear-headed.”

His breathing was still scorching hot. His whole body felt drained of strength from the burning, his head was dizzy and swollen, and there was a faint stinging pain deep in his bones. His body was like a furnace on the verge of melting down, while his clear consciousness was the only stubborn iron wire holding on inside the furnace. It didn’t improve the overall situation at all. Instead, it kept his mind alert, making him suffer inside the furnace.

Wei Tingxia let out a low gasp and looked around. He found himself lying in a shabby tent, gray and plainly decorated, with windblown sand leaking in from people walking outside.

No one was there.

It didn’t look like a modern setting.

He lay back down on the bed, covered in cold sweat, his fingers trembling uncontrollably.

“Where am I now?” he asked.

[It’s the ninth year of Yongkang. You’re between the borders of Shuo Kingdom and Zhao Kingdom, a bit closer to Shuo Kingdom.]

Yongkang. Shuo and Zhao.

Some extremely bad memory fragments surged up instantly. Wei Tingxia had been on the verge of passing out, but this news from System 0188 jolted him awake for a moment. He struggled to ask, “How the hell did I end up here?!”

According to his plan before leaving, he should have been in the capital of Shuo Kingdom right now!

System 0188: [Cause traced. Your appearance here is mainly due to Fu Chi.]

“What did that idiot do?”

[He thinks you’re skilled in military strategy and wants to use you against the protagonist’s army.]

But Wei Tingxia’s body was like a paper lantern—fragile, breaking in the wind or rotting in water. From the capital to the border, he had passed out three or four times along the way. Now he was hanging on by a thread. Forget commanding troops; surviving longer than a soldier would count as a win.

Villains racking their brains was no match for a fool’s stroke of inspiration.

Wei Tingxia thought passing out right now was a great idea, but System 0188 kept emitting strange noises, forcing him to stay awake.

[Don’t sleep.]

He rolled his eyes, feeling like a dying husband on his sickbed, while his useless and heartless wife desperately pried at him for the safe’s password.

“Fine,” he gasped, resigning himself. “Any other bad news? Spill it all at once.”

[Fu Chi is about to hold out no longer,] System 0188 reported coldly. [He’s been pinned down dead by Yan Xinfeng’s large army. Supplies cut off for nearly a week. All scouts sent out were sent back with their left hands chopped off. They’ve reached the end of the road.]

The nearly dead husband barely made out his wife’s words. After thinking hard for a few seconds, he gasped, “If… Yan Xinfeng really wanted to kill them, does he have to wait a while, or… could he have done it long ago?”

[He could have long ago.]

But he hadn’t. Instead, he kept Fu Chi pinned in place, like toying with prey.

Something unusual was definitely up, but Wei Tingxia couldn’t figure out exactly what. He felt like his lungs were stuffed with windblown grit—every breath hurt. And there was still a long time until the 168 hours System 0188 mentioned.

“I think the situation is extremely bad…” he muttered to himself. “I’m afraid I won’t even make it 168 hours.”

Fu Chi had brought him to the border, thinking he was fetching a brilliant strategist, only to find Wei Tingxia couldn’t even open his eyes. He had become a complete hot potato.

With Yan Xinfeng pressing step by step, Fu Chi couldn’t escape. Naturally, he would try every trick to shift the conflict.

Wei Tingxia had betrayed on the battlefield back then, nearly getting Yan Xinfeng killed at Pancuo Pass. In the eyes of the world, he was absolutely Yan Xinfeng’s top enemy.

If Fu Chi realized this and tried to use him as a bargaining chip with Yan Xinfeng—

Wei Tingxia’s vision went black. He figured passing out might be better after all.

…

When his consciousness returned, Wei Tingxia felt like a broken sack being dragged around by someone.

Water splashed, mixed with windblown sand and a pungent medicinal smell. The damp heat clung to his face, nearly suffocating him.

“Faster! Move those hands and feet!”

“What are you dawdling for? I’m warning you—if anything goes wrong this time, the general will skin us alive…”

Noisy urgings buzzed in his ears.

Wei Tingxia’s whole body burned hot, his bones aching and weak. His eyelids weighed a thousand pounds. When he barely pried his eyes open, the countdown set by System 0188 before it left floated at the edge of his vision. The number hadn’t broken into three digits yet.

A rough cloth with cold water wiped messily over his face and neck, making him shudder. Then someone roughly pried open his mouth and poured in a bowl of scalding, bitter, fishy medicine. It was nauseating and foul; Wei Tingxia nearly vomited.

But before he could react more violently, the medicine surged into his organs with brutal force. The burning sensation exploded instantly, like fireworks going off in his stomach.

The intense pain turned to ice water, flowing into his limbs and bones, dousing the scorching furnace. It forcibly split open a crack in his chaotic mind. Wei Tingxia’s eyes snapped open.

This clarity came too strangely—it definitely wasn’t good medicine. But being clear-headed was better than staying groggy. Looking at the panicked cleanup around him, Wei Tingxia had a guess in his mind.

But before he could discuss it with System 0188, two iron-clamp-like hands suddenly reached from the side, dragging him roughly off the soaked bed.

Wei Tingxia’s legs went soft; he was practically carried as he was dragged along. Windblown sand hit him in the face. In his blurry vision, there were swaying figures and a grim command tent. In a flash, he was shoved to the front lines.

An icy blade pressed instantly against the artery on his neck, making goosebumps erupt on his skin.

Fu Chi’s face, twisted by anxiety and despair, was right in front of him. His hoarse voice roared at the opposite side: “Yan Xinfeng! See who this is?!”

He shoved Wei Tingxia forward hard; the blade nearly embedded in his flesh.

“Do you want him or not?!”

Wei Tingxia was choked so badly he could hardly breathe. Rage surged; if he weren’t restrained, he would’ve hacked Fu Chi into three pieces.

Warm blood trickled from the wound on his neck into his clothes. This was basically the worst opening Wei Tingxia had faced since starting the mission.

‘0188!’ he roared in his mind. ‘Send a message to the system space!’

[Content to send?]

‘Tell him I hate his guts,’ Wei Tingxia gritted out mentally. ‘And note it for me—once I recover, I’ll hang Fu Chi on the city walls.’

He was forced to look up at the opposite side. Banners whipped in the wind; the dense black army stood silent like a mountain, murderous aura pressing down. At the front, one man sat astride a fine steed.

It was Yan Xinfeng.

Wind and sand swirled. Wei Tingxia narrowed his eyes and saw the young general opposite clearly.

Yan Xinfeng was different from before. Gone was the sickly weakness signaling imminent death. He was clad in profound armor, cold and hard as iron. His once gentle eyes now held only chiseled coldness.

When his gaze fell on Wei Tingxia, whose neck was under the blade, not even a ripple stirred. It was pure, icy scrutiny.

“Damn it,” Wei Tingxia couldn’t help cursing. “He’s not really going to ignore me, is he?”

Look at how he phrased that.

System 0188 responded seriously: [You nearly killed him.]

So Yan Xinfeng ignoring him was completely reasonable.

But Wei Tingxia didn’t care about that logic: “He can’t ignore me. If he really does, I’m dead!”

Forget hanging Fu Chi on the walls—he’d be up there himself soon.

[Then you’d better think of something,] System 0188 said. [I’m serious—your survival odds aren’t great right now.]

Talk with this crappy system?

Fu Chi’s blade pressed tighter, deathly chill piercing to the bone. Wei Tingxia clearly felt Fu Chi’s hand shaking. The wound tore open; more blood gushed out, staining a large patch of his clothes red.

If this standoff continued, he would definitely die. Reloading into the world then wouldn’t be easy.

Under the gazes of soldiers from both sides, with the arrow nocked and bowstring taut, Wei Tingxia steeled himself. Using every last bit of strength, he unleashed a hoarse, desperate shout toward the source of that icy gaze:

“Yan Xinfeng, fuck your whole family—save me!!!”

…

…

Watching Yan Xinfeng dismount and walk silently back to the command tent, Pei Zhou’s heart pounded like a drum.

Back on the battlefield, if he hadn’t forcibly clamped his mouth shut, his jaw would’ve dropped the second he saw Wei Tingxia.

The man who should’ve been enjoying wealth and glory in Shuo Kingdom’s capital, with his friends and family’s blood on his hands, had been dragged to the front lines between two armies, a sword at his throat…

Pei Zhou dismounted too. His feet hit the ground, but his knees felt weak. The shock he’d forcibly suppressed now surged up belatedly, shaking him to the core.

He instinctively grabbed the saddle to steady himself. His mind uncontrollably replayed that shocking and absurd scene.

He had been a renowned young noble in the capital back then. Though windburned and sand-blasted for years on the border, his every move still carried youthful vigor. Even as a deserter, he shouldn’t have deteriorated so much in just two years.

It seemed Wei Tingxia’s years on the run hadn’t been easy.

The thought had just surfaced when Pei Zhou sneered. He wasn’t sure if he was mocking himself or others.

Not easy was right. A traitor living too comfortably would be a slap in the face to them all.

But Pei Zhou then recalled Yan Xinfeng’s reaction—that was what truly chilled him.

Among the Profound North Army’s generals now, most had been promoted from rank-and-file soldiers at the garrison. Only he and Yan Xinfeng came from the capital.

Yan Xinfeng was the heir to the Yunzhong Marquis, born and rooted in the capital. Pei Zhou was the second son of the Righteous Valor General; their homes were close, just two alleys apart. They had played together as kids and grown up with deep bonds.

So during the standoff, only Pei Zhou noticed something off with Yan Xinfeng.

Yan Xinfeng seemed unmoved by anything, but the instant Wei Tingxia appeared, the hand gripping the reins tensed sharply. His knuckles whitened from the force, and even the warhorse, attuned to its master’s mood, sensed the sudden pressure and pawed the ground uneasily.

The tension lasted only an instant, so fast it seemed like an illusion. The next second, that hand returned to its steady, powerful grip.

Then Yan Xinfeng’s gaze swept over Wei Tingxia’s face.

Pei Zhou couldn’t describe his eyes.

Not towering hatred, nor the expected glee, but an extremely deep and heavy shock, mixed with a trace of incredulous astonishment—like seeing a ghost in the most impossible place.