Chapter 103: The Secret Scroll of the Art of War, Ten Sweeps and Ten Decisive Victories!

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Concealed within the strategy known as “Ming’s Feint on the Road, Secret Passage through Chen Cang,” Wang Cheng’s true self and the two Yaxiao quietly observed as over a hundred White Scale Guards, clad in silver embroidered uniforms, thundered past them on horseback.

A single glance revealed several mid-third rank officers, their robes emblazoned with the three flames of Fortune, Prosperity, and Longevity intertwined. Even in the dead of night, no evil spirit dared to seek death among them during the march.

Wang Cheng silently nodded:

“They’ve arrived just in time.

Winter has passed, the seas of the Cangming Ocean have become navigable again, and the Five Peaks Banner’s great fleet will soon cross the sea to invade and breach the borders.

By the end of March at the latest, Min Prefecture’s administration will face another fierce battle.

This time, we can leverage the Pu family’s foundation to gauge just how much strength remains in the Great Zhao Dynasty and its coastal Twenty-Four Guards.”

At this moment, the eye within the seven-branched candelabrum in the inner courtyard had yet to fully open. The private soldiers guarding the outer yard gripped their weapons tightly at the sound of approaching hooves.

Only Pu Haiyun, the direct heir, slowly retreated.

“Steward, you take the lead.”

He had no intention of dying here and missing the final opportunity to pass into the realm of the gods. Pushing the steward forward, he sprinted toward the rear courtyard.

Halfway there, his body suddenly tripped. Looking down, he saw no obstruction and cursed under his breath before continuing to run.

He was completely unaware that the precious talisman he carried on his person had vanished. A shadow had already slipped past the White Scale Guards through the back door of the Pu ancestral mansion and rejoined Wang Cheng’s feet.

The imported talisman had fallen into his hands.

However, the Silver Virtuous Servant and Golden Malevolent Master were bound by employment contracts and did not transfer ownership with the talisman’s possession.

The slaves’ fighting spirit blazed fiercely.

The old steward immediately commanded some fearless private soldiers to scale the walls and use small bowl cannons to counterattack.

“Open fire!”

A row of orange-red flames burst forth in the night.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Streams of fire crisscrossed, and while the White Scale Guards poised to storm the gate remained unharmed, the nearby idle constables and the lax militia suffered grievous losses.

“Clear the way!”

At the command of the deputy commander Lu Yi, they scrambled aside, clearing the main gate.

Lu Yi produced a yellowed military scroll, raised it high, and shouted:

“Yue Wumu, Scatter Star Formation!”

A wave of iron-blooded martial aura descended. All under his command bore iron-colored ghostly masks on their faces, their spirits merging with some fated military soul, boosting their morale to terrifying heights.

Though dressed in ordinary official robes, it seemed as if each was clad in heavy armor, like human war chariots, moving like the wind, scattering like stars, gathering like thunder.

Figures flickered on the field, effortlessly evading all ranged fire within two breaths.

When regrouped, the vanguard had already kicked open the gate, stepping into the grand courtyard, all White Scale Guards unscathed.

This was the secret military tome mastered only by the elite of the Great Zhao.

Lu Yi had studied the “Wumu Training Technique: Ren Ji Shi”!

Only a few in this world could ignite the heart’s lamp and ascend to official rank. How to tap the full potential of the vast ordinary talent? The ancestors had long provided the answer.

Those reaching the upper third rank, the “Living Spirits of Ghosts and Gods,” could cultivate their own temple armies of ghost troops with unique skills, known as “Dao Soldiers” in the celestial sects.

Mortals paid a steep price—sacrificing five years of lifespan, losing sensation, or succumbing to alcoholism—to gain powers beyond the ordinary.

Some mid-third rank officers borrowed the power of gods and spirits to forge themselves, though with higher failure rates and greater costs.

The military tomes allowed independent temple ghost troops to form battle formations, enabling these already formidable troops to achieve effects far greater than the sum of their parts, even granting unique abilities.

Before the invention of cannons, nations deployed thousands of mortal ants to break formations, seize strongholds, and topple mountains and temples, even slaying gods and spirits!

After firearms and cannons appeared, some proclaimed, “You have guns, I have divine arts,” which was not entirely wrong.

There were numerous lineages of military training techniques: “He Guanzi Training,” “Huang Shigong Training,” “Tai Gong’s Six Secret Teachings,” “Wei Warrior Training,” “Trap Formation Training,” and so forth.

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Different generals wielding distinct military tomes commanding identical teams of temple soldiers yielded varying results, with the greatest power when holding the original treatise or corresponding tokens.

Of course, having a basic hundred temple ghost soldiers allowed one to learn these tomes and greatly enhance combat power.

But this was the court’s trump card to maintain military superiority and suppress rebels, evil spirits, and heretical gods; strict prohibitions forbade civilian forces from possessing or studying them.

Though many mid-third rank officers existed among the civilian populace, and control over weapons and bows was lax, the military tomes governing war formations were tightly monitored. Apart from a few martial nobles with major achievements, privately harboring a single tome was tantamount to rebellion.

The Five Peaks Banner, Haizhu Ghosts, and Gaoli Ghosts—water-class temple ghost soldiers—only excelled in individual strength compared to regular soldiers.

Without the aid of military tomes, they could handle small skirmishes but could not unleash their true power in large-scale battles.

However, no military tome focused specifically on naval warfare had ever existed in the history of Shenzhou’s dynasties. All past accumulations of the Great Zhao on the seas were rendered useless.

Otherwise, the East Sea would not be plagued by so many pirate kings and ravaging Wokou.

Wang Cheng looked on enviously, pondering whether to collect naval treatises from Western nations and, combining memories from a past life, compose a military classic to become a pioneering master of naval warfare.

“Perhaps I shall call myself… Prince?”

Clang!

Over a hundred White Scale Guards drew their gleaming waist knives, charging into the steward’s defense like tigers among sheep.

Blades flashed fiercely, limbs flailed wildly, and blood flowed like rivers.

“Ahhhhh!”

The Pu clan members in the inner courtyard panicked at the screams. They knew the guards couldn’t hold the imperial envoy and were shocked by the disparity in combat prowess.

The elderly leader shouted sternly at the collateral branches with faint foreign bloodlines:

“You peripheral branches are doomed to perish. Now is the time to sacrifice for our pure-blooded main lineage and faith. Come, offer blood to our ancestor Pu Gengshou!”

Even those outside heard clearly: the ancestor they sought to summon was the very culprit who ordered the slaughter of the Zhao Song royal clan and crafted the nation’s founding plan!

When he obtained the “Disobedient Dragon Pearl,” he was a fourth-rank treasure bearer. Before death, he had broken through to the upper third rank and was deified posthumously.

“I-I-I…”

The foremost branch took the sacrificial blade, trembling as they turned it on themselves. Before plunging it in, their trembling hands dropped the blade with a clang.

The impatient elder then swiftly slit their throat.

Blood splattered, the flame flickered red, and the eye’s opening hastened.

At the same time, footsteps like drumbeats sounded outside.

A streak of crimson divine light shot from the fiery vertical pupil, landing on the freshly slain collateral clan member, who staggered to his feet.

Radiating a scorching aura, he dashed out of the inner courtyard, charging fiercely at the advancing White Scale Guards.

Boom!

A massive explosion erupted— a suicide human bomb detonated, sending enormous flames and scorching winds skyward.

Although Fourth-Rank “Military Judge” Lu Yi sliced through bone fragments and the high-temperature shockwave, blocking some of the blast’s aftermath, his troops suffered casualties for the first time.

Then came the second, third, and fourth human bombs, all sacrificed ones charging forth.

Each violent explosion blocked the White Scale Guards’ advance.

Finally, an abstract humanoid figure slowly emerged from the cracked eye.

Transforming into a ghost god—or, as the Pu clan called it, the divine ancestral spirit Pu Gengshou—half human, half bird, wielding a sword in one hand and a money pouch in the other, with a pair of white wings sprouting from his back.

Wang Cheng’s bat spies merely glanced at him and immediately bled from all orifices, their guts exploding as they fell dead.

“Come!”

The figure beckoned to his direct descendants to follow quickly.

Sensing a power utterly different from their own Three Officials Alliance, many officers in the city approached to investigate.

If the White Scale Guards faltered, they would grit their teeth and step up.

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Soon, a crowd of officers gathered on the rooftops near Wang Cheng and Yunxiao, who boldly revealed themselves and mingled to watch the battle.

Fortunately, Deputy Commander Lu Yi was no fool. He was not surprised by Pu Gengshou’s appearance, instead showing a knowing smirk:

“The entire Pu clan remains, except for you.

We, the imperial hounds, must discern the sovereign’s will. Without you, the prime culprit, even exterminating ten clans cannot ease His Majesty’s wrath.

You are not the first foreign god to set foot on this land, and I will not let you be the first to return alive.”

Suddenly his voice rose like thunder:

“Imperial decree: The Pu clan’s crimes are unforgivable. Exterminate ten clans, obliterate their forms!

Lu Yuncheng, Eight Ox Divine Crossbows, fire volleys!”

At once, five brilliant purple lights ignited on the pitch-black sea beyond the city, transforming into five violet rainbows streaking across the night sky.

Simultaneously, the collective will of all beings in Stiltong Harbor—the populace’s resolve, official authority, incense offerings—all surged toward the rainbows under the emperor’s sacred command, bestowing a divine mandate that “sinners must perish.”

As hereditary officer of the Baoshan Thousand Household and Yunxiao as the Great Zhao’s officially venerated Earth Deity Lady, they each contributed a strand of official and incense aura to the cause.

The entire people of Shenzhou shared in the enemy’s annihilation.

Facing the rainbows, Pu Gengshou and the Pu clan sensed the entire heavens, earth, vegetation, and people around Stiltong Harbor rejecting them utterly.

Voices filled their ears:

“Sinner! Deserve death!”

“Kill! Kill! Kill!”

Pu Gengshou’s pupils contracted to pinpoints as he roared:

“I kill as a god; how can that be sin?

You people of Shenzhou disbelieve gods and treat them as beasts or slaves; on what grounds do you judge this noble ancestral spirit of mine?”

In the next moment, five spear-thick triple-arrow bolts struck precisely within the Pu family ancestral temple.

A thunderous roar!

Purple-white lightning illuminated the night sky.

When vision cleared, Pu Gengshou—the architect of the Zhao Song massacre and indirect cause of the Battle of Yashan’s catastrophic defeat—had met his retribution, destroyed utterly before he could flee.

Under the five thunder strikes, the main and collateral branches alike were annihilated.

The candle-eyed gaze connecting to unknown realms fizzled out with a soft “puff,” plunging the so-called “Divine Kingdom” opposite into deathly silence, no longer responsive.

Wang Cheng widened his eyes, looking toward the black sea where the crossbow bolts had come from, seeing a large, indistinct shadow—apparently a ship.

He drew his conclusion.

“The coastal Twenty-Four Guards of the Great Zhao are indeed on the verge of collapse, but the White Scale Guards—extensions of imperial power—still pack quite a punch.

As is well known, late dynasties inevitably suffer officialdom decay and rampant corruption, and border troops are usually the last to rot.

Under sea bans, facing only pirates, the coastal Twenty-Four Guards lagging behind the nine border armies is normal.

When even the nine border strongholds begin saying, ‘No need to wear armor when paying tomorrow,’ the dynasty is already on its countdown.”

At that moment, a voice called out, breaking his reverie:

“Hey, you there, hereditary hundred-household—someone’s calling you.

What are you standing there for? We’re short-handed. Come help us ransack and kill the earthworms.”