After the war, the Wild Wolf troops surrendered, and their cavalry was integrated into the Northern Yan Iron Cavalry. Using the excuse of extended battle lines and difficult mobilization, Fu Shen returned the border defense authority of Ganning and Erzhou to the central government, focusing on managing the border regions of Yuanzhou, Xuanhuai, and Yanzhou. After the Battle of Three Passes, Fu Shen officially became the commander of the Northern Yan Iron Cavalry.
With his achievements of turning the tide, he could have been legitimately granted the title of Duke, but at this time, the old and conservative ministers objected, saying Fu Shen was too young and might not command respect—and the Emperor actually listened to them.
Anyone with eyes could see that the Emperor was afraid of the Fu family, worried they might produce another “eternally glorious” Marquis of Ying.
But some people are destined to rise against the current.
In just a few years, Marquis of Jingning Fu Shen, holding the Yan Pass Iron Cavalry, became the backbone of Great Zhou, firmly establishing himself as a thorn in the side of the Tartar and Zhe tribes. The peace in the Northern Frontier in recent years, with people living and working in peace, was largely due to his efforts. As long as Fu Shen was in the military, even just sitting still as a mascot, he was the greatest deterrent to the northern foreign tribes.
“Stop talking,” a hand stretched out from behind the curtain, snatching away the porcelain bottle. “We can fool ordinary people, but if we go to the military camp, we’ll definitely be recognized. By then, it’ll be too late to pretend to be lame.”
Xiao Chun muttered, “But you are already truly lame…”
The young gentleman – known as the “Command Killer” Jing Ning Hou Fu Shen – tilted his head and swallowed a brown pill the size of a fingertip, sneering, “Zhong Shan, which do you think would keep you up at night: a general with hope of recovery, or a completely disabled commander?”
Xiao Chun said nothing.
Fu Shen threw the porcelain bottle back into his arms, closed his eyes to feel the spreading numbness in his limbs, and softly said, “Let’s go.”
Chapter 3: Entering the Mansion | Inauspicious from Birth, Long Incompatible
At dusk, at the western suburban military camp of the capital, hundreds of miles from the city, Zhong He, the commander of Rui Feng Camp, personally came out to greet them.
Xiao Chun stepped forward to pay respects. Before he could complete his bow, Zhong He had already left him and rushed towards the horse carriage, kneeling down: “This subordinate, Rui Feng Camp commander Zhong He, pays respects to General Fu!”
A bandaged hand lifted the curtain, and a heavy medicinal smell slowly spread. Fu Shen wore no armor, only a robe. His chest and arms were wrapped in bandages. His face was pale, his lips bloodless, his long hair loose, seeming to be hanging on by a thread, weak enough to collapse at a breeze. Only his eyes retained a hint of spirit, deep and black, calm like a broken blade still capable of a fatal strike.
Fu Shen nodded to him: “Commander Zhong, long time no see. Forgive me for not being able to rise and greet you due to my inconvenience.”
Zhong He had heard about his serious injury and inability to walk but never imagined it was this severe. He had not previously believed the rumors that “Fu Shen was truly disabled,” but seeing was believing. Fu Shen’s current state seemed unlikely to recover, let alone survive comfortably for a few more years.
Zhong He’s vision darkened, feeling cold from head to toe, and in his grief, his form of address changed: “Jing Yuan, your injury… you…
“
Fu Shen heard his trembling tone, as if he was about to die, couldn’t help curling his mouth and sighed, “Thank you for your concern, Commander Zhong. It’s just a leg injury, not fatal. Ah, Zhong Shan, quickly find a handkerchief to wipe Commander Zhong’s tears.”
Fu Shen’s entourage, though traveling light, quickly spread news of their arrival in the capital. At this hour, no one would visit, so the old servant saw off Xiao Chun and others before closing the main gate, leaving only a side door open. Unexpectedly, not long after Fu Shen had fallen asleep, urgent and forceful knocking suddenly erupted outside the Jingning Marquis’s residence.
The gatekeeper did not dare to be negligent and hurried to report. The residence’s only capable old servant, dragging his somewhat inconvenient legs, rushed over. The moment he saw the group of black-clad men riding tall horses and wearing waist-hung sabers, he was stunned and trembling: “May I ask who… who you are?”
From the crowd, a tall, slender man rode forward, stopping precisely in the light outside the eaves’ shadow. In an instant, the deep blue robe’s cloud patterns flowed like water, and the silver-embroidered celestial horse on the back of his outer garment seemed about to take flight. Moonlight and lamplight illuminated an elegant face with smiling eyes and thin lips.
“
“Old sir, please do not be afraid,” he courteously nodded, his pale and thin hand holding the reins. “I am Yan Xiaohan, Chief Inspector of the Flying Dragon Guard, here by His Majesty’s decree to visit the Jingning Marquis and bring a renowned physician to treat his injuries. Kindly inform him.”
The old servant had served in the Yinguo Duke’s residence for decades, and the name “Yan Xiaohan” was familiar. His heart immediately sank, and he stammered: “This… my master has traveled far and is injured, and has just gone to sleep. Distinguished officials, what do you say…”
The Flying Dragon Guard was known for their unbridled behavior, and no one dared to obstruct them. Yan Xiaohan looked down at the wrinkled old man, his smile undiminished, and said playfully: “Old sir, it seems you are very afraid of me seeing your master?”
He had guessed correctly.
For the old servants of the Yinguo Duke’s residence, this was no secret. Yan Xiaohan, a third-rank Right Divine Martial Army General and Chief Inspector of the Flying Dragon Guard, was the most powerful court official in recent years, a hawkish agent of the emperor whom everyone avoided. Most critically, he and Jingning Marquis Fu Shen were natural enemies, long at odds, and known to clash even in the emperor’s presence.
Just three months ago during an early court session, they had verbally sparred for half an hour over the deployment of military supervisors, nearly coming to blows.
Now that Fu Shen had returned in decline while Yan Xiaohan remained powerful, the old servants feared he might seek personal revenge.
The old servant said: “This humble servant does not dare. But my master cannot endure disturbance… I beg the sir to be considerate.”
Yan Xiaohan surveyed the Jingning Marquis’s residence, noting its clean but desolate courtyard. He subtly sighed and relented: “I’m not here to cause trouble… Very well, you need not announce me. I’ll just take a quick look and leave.”
Unable to resist, the old servant reluctantly led the way, lighting a lantern. Yan Xiaohan left his Flying Dragon Guard escorts in the front courtyard, bringing only a slim, gentle, scholarly-looking young man into the inner courtyard.
The vast marquis’s residence was empty, with a few trees in the yard, fallen leaves quickly covering the steps. The dim light and silent, dark surrounding buildings made the thin yellow light from the main house’s window seem particularly bleak.
The old servant and young Feilong guard who hurried in immediately heard this cold, harsh interrogation, instantly stopping in their tracks, thinking to themselves that the rumors were indeed true – these two were not to be trifled with.
Yan Xiaohan closed his eyes and focused his qi, not wanting to argue with him, and said stiffly: “You have a fever. Get up and drink some water. I’ll have someone take your pulse and prescribe medicine.”
