Volume Four: Winds Scatter the Clouds, Lands Sink Across Four Continents Chapter Sixteen: Shattered Jade

A hundred miles from Lin Xiaoyun’s Dragon Palace, a contingent of the Flying Dragon Army was stationed. The ranks were filled with the elite scions of the dragon clan, genuine warriors skilled in battle.

The earliest commander of this Flying Dragon Army was Lady Chen, succeeded by Duke An, then by Lin Bai, followed by An Chenfeng. The current, fifth commander was formerly An Chenfeng’s deputy—a man named Yin Zhigui. He hailed from the lowest stratum of the dragon clan. During the ancient war, when the situation at the front became dire and the upper echelons could no longer supply enough soldiers, the taboo was broken, and a cohort of mid- and lower-ranking officers was recruited from the commoners.

Yin Zhigui began his military career as a foot soldier, always the first to charge into battle. He was fearless, yet remarkably calm and composed. With the passage of years and accumulated experience, he eventually rose to the position of deputy commander of the Flying Dragon Army.

However, his humble origins were a stain in the eyes of others; the Flying Dragon Army was Lin Xiaoyun’s crack force, and its command was always reserved for the nobility. Without ambition or desire for power himself, Yin Zhigui was content to serve each successive commander with unwavering loyalty and tireless labor.

But when the An family fell from grace, all their military appointments were stripped away. Only then was Yin Zhigui temporarily entrusted with leadership of the Flying Dragon Army.

It was already midnight when An Chenfeng arrived outside the Flying Dragon Army’s main camp. Consumed with urgency, he brandished an imperial edict and shouted Yin Zhigui’s name at the gates, demanding his presence to receive the royal command.

The guards recognized An Chenfeng at once. They cupped their fists in salute before hurrying off to the command tent to report.

Before long, two ceremonial banners emerged from the camp gates, unfurling to the east and west. Between them strode a burly general with a bristling beard, resplendent in full armor. He knelt on one knee with a clang, saluted, and declared, “Your subordinate awaits the royal command.”

With all due formality, An Chenfeng unrolled the edict and proclaimed, “By decree of the Kunpeng Dragon Lord: Traitor Liang Shengwu has rebelled with the imperial guard, besieging the residence of Duke An in an attempt to eliminate the pillars of the realm before moving on the royal court. Yin Zhigui is hereby ordered to relinquish command of the Flying Dragon Army to An Chenfeng, who will lead the troops immediately to relieve Duke An’s residence.”

He handed the edict to Yin Zhigui, who received it with both hands, offered a deferential bow, and then drew forth a cloth-bound ledger from his breast. Flipping to a certain page, he meticulously compared the jade seal on the edict with his records, then nodded in acknowledgment. He saluted An Chenfeng and said, “Marshal An, you know well that to transfer military command, the imperial edict alone is not enough—the Dragon King’s Tiger Tally is also required. May I ask…”

Before he could finish, An Chenfeng produced half of the Tiger Tally and offered it to him.

The so-called Tiger Tally of the dragon clan, though named after a tiger, was actually shaped like a soaring dragon.

Yin Zhigui took out his half and joined the two pieces together; they fit perfectly.

At last, Yin Zhigui’s doubts were dispelled. He thought to himself, “In such turbulent times, one can never be too cautious.”

He handed over the commander’s seal to An Chenfeng and asked, “Marshal An, may I ask—how did Liang Shengwu suddenly rebel?”

An Chenfeng, gathering his things, replied, “For now, you are still my deputy. Go at once and ready the troops for departure. I will explain everything on the way.”

Yin Zhigui understood the urgency of the moment. After a brief bow, he left to prepare for the march.

Half an hour later, three thousand elite dragons of the Flying Dragon Army were already on their way to Duke An’s residence.

By this time, the residence was engulfed in flames. The entire An family—young and old—along with their household guards, numbered just over five hundred. Though each was a hardened veteran, after more than three hours of pitched combat against imperial guards who outnumbered them ten to one, their strength was clearly failing.

Casualties mounted. The old Duke An, helmet and armor donned, sat upright in the main hall, one hand resting on a drawn longsword. The serving maids beside him were likewise armored, their faces set with grim resolve.

Wounded were constantly being carried in, and over twenty stretchers now filled the hall in haphazard rows. Cries of pain echoed through the chamber as the women of the An family moved among the injured, tending to their wounds.

Beneath the eaves outside the hall lay five corpses, their faces shrouded in white cloth. Among them were two black dragons—An Chenlei and An Chenyu—who had been slain by a hail of arrows and a barrage of lightning. Even after being pierced by multiple arrows, they fought on until struck down by the thunderous assault. The three other bodies were their personal guards, who died dragging their masters’ remains back to the residence. Many more bodies lay scattered outside, impossible to retrieve.

By the latter half of the night, both the front and rear quarters had fallen; only the central hall remained in the family’s control. The women who could not retreat after the front lines collapsed chose to take their own lives rather than face capture and dishonor. Of the four sons of the An family, two had perished in battle. Outside, Lady Chen directed the defense.

At this moment, the old Duke An braced himself on the sword that had accompanied him through countless battles, striving to stand. The maids tried to help, but he pushed them away again and again.

Finally, the old duke managed to stand, swaying unsteadily in the hall.

He could say little, so instead, with great effort, he raised his sword in both hands and pointed it toward the outside, roaring a single word with all his remaining fury: “Kill!”

With that, he strode forward, dragging the blade that had tasted so much blood and now, like him, showed its age.

This act inspired more courage than any speech before battle.

Everyone present who could still move seized their weapons and rushed out. This was a day for the An family to choose death over dishonor!

As the family prepared for a desperate last stand, the sound of a heroic bugle call echoed from the distant hills, followed by a thunderous cry of battle. Soon, the imperial guards besieging the residence sounded the hurried gong for retreat.

That night, the flames painted the sky red, and the blood of the An family’s sons stained the earth.

An Chenfeng led his men into the ruined residence and saw the family, young and old, their faces set in grim resolve, their bodies covered in wounds. Even a burly warrior like An Chenfeng was overwhelmed with grief. He rushed to the old duke, knelt, and repeatedly knocked his head to the floor, crying, “Your unfilial son has failed you, Father! Forgive me!” Before long, his forehead was streaming with blood.

The old duke, upon seeing An Chenfeng, finally relaxed. His body went limp, and he collapsed to the ground, unresponsive to all calls—knowing in his heart that his time had come.

Meanwhile, Liang Shengwu, fleeing back to the palace, hurriedly reported to Lin Xiaoyun, “Your Majesty, our forces had the An family pinned in the inner hall and would have finished them in a quarter hour. But suddenly a force of about three thousand Flying Dragon troops appeared, attacking furiously. An Chenfeng led a charge that shattered our center, and none could withstand him. I was forced to order a retreat and await your judgment.”

“What?” Lin Xiaoyun roared. “When did An Chenfeng move my Flying Dragon Army? Where is Yin Zhigui? Is he dead?”

“Marshal Yin is alive; I saw him at An Chenfeng’s side during the chaos,” Liang Shengwu replied, head bowed.

“So even Yin Zhigui has turned traitor! Outrageous!” Lin Xiaoyun paced the hall, consumed by fury and anxiety.

“Sire, our forces are depleted. Perhaps… perhaps we should retreat?” suggested Liang Shengwu.

Lin Xiaoyun turned, his voice cold as ice. “Retreat? Where could we possibly go in this world that would shelter us?”

Catching sight of the king’s sinister expression, Liang Shengwu fell to his knees in terror. “I only meant to ensure Your Majesty’s safety—so long as the green hills remain, there will always be firewood. I meant nothing else! Please believe me!”

Lin Xiaoyun grew ever more enraged. Now, having lost all support, he had no remaining cards to play. As he stewed in despair, a panicked messenger burst in, shouting, “Report! The An family is leading their army to assault the palace gates. Our forces are hard-pressed to hold them off!”

Fear began to gnaw at Lin Xiaoyun. He seized Liang Shengwu from the floor and kicked him out of the hall, yelling, “Hold the gates at all costs! Reinforcements will arrive soon!”

When everyone had left, the great hall fell silent—a silence that only deepened Lin Xiaoyun’s terror. He began to tremble uncontrollably, his mind clouded with confusion.

As he groped for a solution, his hand brushed against a jade token at his waist. He drew it out and saw that it was the pitch-black token Fairy Lanling had once given him, with faint red flames flickering within.

Gritting his teeth, Lin Xiaoyun steeled himself. He crushed the black jade token and scattered its powder across the hall.

The drifting powder formed a perfect circle in the air, which began to glow with increasing brilliance, becoming ever more transparent.

At last, a portal was formed.

Lin Xiaoyun stared at it in trepidation, uncertain what would emerge or what fate awaited the dragon clan—he was gambling everything on this, staking the very survival of his people.

From the portal emerged a huge, hideous black head. It grinned at Lin Xiaoyun, revealing a mouthful of jagged teeth.

Then, one after another, the Dark Vanguard poured through the gate. Some carried the withered bodies of freshly drained villagers, tossing them aside with dull thuds. Beyond the portal, a village lay in ruins—flames leaping, silence reigning.

Finally, Fairy Lanling stepped through. With a snap of her fingers, the portal vanished, transforming back into the black jade token, which dropped neatly into her palm.

She cast a cold glance at the prostrate Lin Xiaoyun and said with disgust, “What took you so long to open the door?”