The Bad Guys: Everyone, let’s revive the Tang Dynasty together!

Chapter 448 The Most Heartless
The biting wind, like countless blunt knives, swept across the vast grassland, whipping up hard snowflakes that lashed at the withered grass and exposed rocks, emitting sharp, mournful howls. The world was churned into a chaotic gray-white, and vision was compressed so tightly it was almost completely cut off.

In this desolate white landscape, a touch of ink suddenly seeps in.

A force of about a hundred elite cavalrymen, like ink spreading on rice paper, stubbornly emerged from the raging snowstorm. Their sturdy leather armor was wrapped in thick felt, and both men and horses were covered in frost. The woman at the head of the group was agile, with two swords at her waist. Behind her were the Ordo Palace Guards, all equipped with two horses. Further back were hundreds of tribal cavalrymen, their armor disheveled, clearly hastily conscripted along the way, struggling through the snowstorm.

Amidst the wind and snow ahead, a scout turned back, spurring his horse close to Snow Falcon. His low voice, barely audible in the howling wind, said, "Commander Snow Falcon, the Chute tribe's camp is just ahead… The situation is strange. Our messenger has vanished without a trace, the number of outposts on the outer perimeter is several times greater than usual, and the guards… the guards are strangely peculiar, unlike normal tribesmen. Also, those Chute people who claimed to be our guides were clearly misleading in their words; I'm afraid…"

Shili Xuehu suddenly pulled on the reins, his eyes sweeping over the so-called Chute tribe members he had encountered earlier on the side of the group. The leader of the group was secretly watching them. Caught off guard, he met Shili Xuehu's gaze and his face froze instantly, a hint of panic flashing in his eyes.

Without the slightest hesitation, Shili Xuehu flicked his wrist, and the curved blade at his waist transformed into an arc of light. As the blade swept past, the blood, before it could even splatter, was frozen into dark red ice pellets by the cold wind. The Chu Te man, clutching his neck, his eyes frozen in astonishment, silently fell from his horse and was quickly buried by the snow.

"Take down the rest and pry their mouths open." Shiri Yukari's voice was colder than the wind and snow as she flicked the fine blood off her blade. "If they can't get any information out of them, kill them on the spot. The entire army, be silent, advance stealthily, and watch out for any unusual movements."

The remaining few Chute people who refused to speak no matter what, whether they tried to argue or hoped to escape, soon followed in their leader's footsteps and were mercilessly abandoned in the vast snowfield.

Hundreds of cavalrymen galloped forward, and upon reaching the outskirts of the camp, Shili Xuehu decisively waved his hand. More than ten of the most elite palace guards, like ghosts blending into the wind and snow, silently slid off their horses and swiftly concealed their mounts in a large, sheltered rock hollow. Hundreds of tribal cavalrymen were left behind to guard the retreat route.

The dozen or so people crouched low, using the undulating snowdrifts and sparse withered grass for cover, and silently made their way toward the shadowy outline of the yurt deep in the snowstorm.

The closer one gets, the stronger the strange fragrance in the air becomes, mingling with the biting cold and seeping into the nostrils, bringing inexplicable restlessness and palpitations. On the outskirts of the camp, the Chute guards, who should have been huddled in their warm tents to escape the cold, now stood like wooden stakes in the wind and snow, or mechanically patrolled the snowstorm, holding dim torches. They were completely unaffected by the biting cold; on their exposed necks and the backs of their hands, faint dark blue, writhing, worm-like patterns were visible. The curved swords and bone spears in their hands gleamed matte in the flickering firelight.

Shili Xuehu, lying behind a low snow slope, frowned deeply. This was no ordinary guard post, and this seemingly easy capture was clearly not as simple as it appeared.

Just then, a cacophony of shouts, the dull thud of weapons clashing, and short, piercing screams erupted from the depths of the camp. The sounds, like snowballs thrown into boiling water, swirled and vanished in an instant, quickly swallowed up by the howling wind and snow.

Shili Xuehu's eyes flashed as he led his men back to their original position. He then decisively ordered, "It's chaotic inside! Ordos, follow me and take advantage of the chaos to break into the core. Our target is Bali Shensu. You all, each of you, are responsible for providing support from the perimeter and drawing attention away from the outside."

The tribal cavalry commanders who had been conscripted exchanged sharp glances, nodded silently, and then led their respective squads, scattering in different directions like pebbles thrown into a snowstorm, deliberately creating a spectacle.

Shili Xuehu mounted his horse and charged forward like an arrow. More than a hundred Ordo palace guards followed closely behind, like a silent torrent of steel. They first rode close to the main camp, and after the strange Chute guards on the outer perimeter were distracted by the harassment of the tribal cavalry, they instantly increased their speed to the extreme, transforming into an unstoppable dagger, straight for the tallest and most powerful main tent in the center of the Chute tribe.

"By imperial decree, where is Shen Su, the chieftain of the Chute tribe, Yilijinbali?!"

However, as soon as their figures were exposed and they approached the main camp of the Chute tribe, the guards who had been drawn away turned back on horseback without regard for their own safety. In the camp, the Chute people, who seemed to have been prepared, rushed forward fearlessly. Their movements were incredibly fast, and they did not care about themselves at all. They charged at the horses and slashed and stabbed with bone spears and scimitars without regard for their own safety.

"By order of Empress Dowager Shuliduo! Arrest the traitor Bali Shensu! Anyone who obstructs will be punished as an accomplice!" A palace guard squad leader, both shocked and furious, shouted loudly, his voice piercing through the wind and snow.

But all he received in response was a more frenzied attack and irrational shouting. One of Chu Te's guards was pierced through the shoulder by a palace guard's spear and sent flying several feet away, yet he seemed to feel no pain. Instead, he picked up the bone spear on the ground and hurled it fiercely at the palace guard who was galloping past.

Even worse, one man, with half his arm severed and blood gushing from the stump, used that brief moment to leap from his fallen steed onto the guard's horse. Though he was immediately hacked down, his ferocious spirit—using flesh as a shield and risking his life for another—was enough to send chills down the spine of even the most elite warriors.

Like a sharp blade, the snow falcon charged forward, needing no reins. Its two curved swords transformed into a blinding curtain of light, their blades swiftly slicing through the necks of two guards who lunged at it. Blood splattered onto the snow, instantly freezing into dark ice.

She moved with such agility that ordinary Chute people could hardly get close, but the palace guards behind her were stuck in the mud. The Chute people, who were not known for their poor fighting skills, were now incredibly strong, and knew nothing of pain or fear, only their most primal and frenzied killing instinct remained.

Even though the palace guards were well-coordinated, the limited space within the camp made them extremely vulnerable to this attack that completely abandoned defense and charged forward relentlessly, risking their lives for the enemy. Their formation was instantly disrupted, leaving them in a sorry state.

"Commander! Inside!" a palace guard cried out in alarm, his voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible bewilderment and horror.

From the heart of the camp where the conflict had recently erupted, a dozen slender, eerie figures emerged. Their movements were so swift that they left afterimages in the snowstorm, like weightless ghosts.

What's even more chilling is that on their pale, almost transparent skin, patterns emitting a faint blue light inexplicably appear, and even irises bloom between their skin and flesh, making them look like tree maidens.

These figures silently joined the battle, working alongside the fearless Chute puppets, using their slender bodies as shields to charge headlong into the palace guards. Several guards, caught off guard, were knocked off their horses by these ethereal figures. The Chute soldiers nearby immediately swarmed forward, their bone spears and scimitars stabbing wildly, instantly dismembering them to the ground.

Shiri Xuehu forced back a tree woman who lunged at her with a single strike, leaving a deep, bone-revealing wound on her arm. The woman merely swayed slightly before silently attacking again. She glanced around; her forces were now divided and surrounded. More than ten palace guards lay dead on the ground, their blood staining a large patch of snow, only to be covered by fresh snowflakes. Deep within the camp, around the largest felt tent, complete silence had fallen, and remained so ever since, as if they hadn't heard a thing.

"Go!" Shiri Yukari's alarm bells rang loudly, instantly realizing that Bali Shensu had probably mastered the forbidden evil technique, just as Dahe Feng had said. She decisively turned her horse around, her curved blade emitting a blinding cold light, its blade energy crisscrossing, forcefully carving a bloody path for the palace guards beside her.

The remaining palace guards fought their way back, struggling to retreat in shock and anger. The wind and snow quickly swallowed their figures, leaving only a desolate battlefield outside the Chu Te tribe's camp, the fallen corpses swiftly buried by the snow, and the main tent deep within the camp, still deathly silent.

Amidst the turbulent wind and snow, Shili Xuehu took one last look back. In the snow-covered camp, the firelight flickered erratically. The dozen or so slender and eerie tree maidens chased her to a certain boundary outside the camp, but all stopped. They silently watched her and the remaining palace guards leave the area with their empty or ghostly blue "eyes."

The seriousness in her eyes deepened. If the other party pursued them, it could be understood as an expected act of rebellion and resistance. But such strange behavior... that Bali Shensu might have a deeper scheme.

Before and after Shili Xuehu's group decisively stormed the camp and then decisively retreated, the largest felt tent in the center of the camp seemed to show no reaction whatsoever.

Outside the felt tent, the intense commotion that Shili Xuehu had just heard had long since subsided. Dozens of Chute corpses that had attempted to besiege the tent were being dragged into the main tent by tree women, who moved somewhat sluggishly, as if they were carrying cargo.

The tent was dimly lit, with the flickering flames of a few oil lamps casting shadowy shadows on the intricate and eerie array patterns drawn on the ground with fine, viscous liquid. In the center of the array, rows of vessels and pottery jars were arranged, and the irises blooming within them were eerily beautiful in the cold winter, their petals shimmering with a faint, ghostly blue light.

Bali Shensu sat cross-legged at the center of the formation. His originally tall and thin figure was now much more muscular, and his withered fingers trembled nervously as they drew lines in the air, drawing upon the blue light and an invisible aura that permeated the tent, continuously channeling them into his body. With his movements, the blue light of the irises flickered like breathing, and the petals moved without wind.

Several tree maidens were tirelessly carrying more blooming irises out of the tent. Their movements were nimble, but there was a certain stiffness to their actions, as if they were puppets on strings.

“Yili Jin, Shili Xuehu from the royal court has led his men in and killed our people! They’re heading towards the main tent! There are also many nobles from the tribe… They seem to know something, and they’re bringing their own troops to question us…” A young man dressed as a shaman rushed in, oblivious to his surroundings, but his voice was filled with panic as he looked at Bali Shensu.

Bali Shensu ignored him, only letting out a hoarse, unintelligible laugh, his eyes almost overflowing with bloodlust: "Power... eternal and immortal power... the glory of the Feathered Spirit Tribe... will ultimately be restored by me... and I will ascend the throne..."

He greedily inhaled the thick air inside the tent, a morbid, twisted satisfaction appearing on his face.

The sounds of fighting and the screams of his people could be faintly heard from the outside world, but instead of frightening him, they were like dry tinder thrown into a fire, making him even more excited and frenzied.

"Got it? That's perfect..." He stuck out his scarlet tongue and licked his dry, chapped lips. "Bring them here... so that I, Ben Yilijin... can personally... answer their questions..."

The young shaman, seeing the inhuman expression of Balishen Su, felt even greater fear in his eyes. He quickly responded and fled as if escaping.

Watching the shaman's panicked retreat, Bali Shensu paid no attention, instead suddenly spreading his arms wide. Dense, dark blue iris patterns, echoing the array patterns on the ground, also appeared on his body.

The bones inside his body emitted a series of subtle yet intense cracking sounds. The excruciating pain of his meridians shattering inch by inch under the impact of the violent power was forcibly suppressed by his twisted will, transforming into a distorted pleasure. He only felt that the supreme power, capable of overturning the world, was surging towards him like a flood bursting its banks.

But that's not enough, far from enough...

------

The clamor of the Chute tribe subsided. Several miles away, a huge, sheltered rock hollow cleverly avoided the fiercest wind and snow. A purple figure, who had rushed over, stood quietly at the edge of the shadow, as if she herself were part of the rock.

The surrendered minister's gaze pierced through the raging wind and snow, sensing the eerie aura permeating the distance, his eyes half-closed.

"The meridians are severed, and the mind is about to be lost... The backlash has reached the point of no return."

The surrendered official spoke in a low voice, flat and even, as if commenting on an antique on display, but a fleeting hint of disgust and anger flashed in the depths of his eyes, "When did this Bali Shensu appear out of nowhere..."

She pondered for a moment, her robe, lined with warm fur, shimmering inexplicably. Then, as if amused by her own words, she chuckled, "Such a 'genius,' and I managed to let him slip through the net last time I came back. How...interesting."

She didn't move, more like an observer standing aside, assessing the best point of intervention, or rather, waiting for a more interesting opportunity.

Just then, as if sensing something, she turned her head slightly and looked at the southern horizon completely obscured by wind and snow. The corners of her mouth twitched up very slightly. Then, she slowly took out a metal object that looked like a key from her bosom and gently turned the clasp on it.

Immediately, the cry of an eagle came from the distant horizon, and then, before long, three figures, along with two camels laden with goods, appeared as if expelled by the wind and snow itself, following a falcon struggling to flap its wings.

The leader, dressed in pristine white robes and carrying a long sword, was a refined and elegant figure, completely out of place in this raging wasteland.

The person held a warm, smooth bone flute, their posture relaxed and composed, as if they had come to find plum blossoms in the snow. They paid no attention to the tall man carrying a large bundle behind them, or the poor little girl at the very back who was staggering and struggling in the wind and snow, carrying a backpack that was much taller than her.

The three followed the falcon to a sheltered rocky hollow. The towering giant immediately went to settle the camels and feed them without a word. The poor little thing, however, slammed its huge backpack heavily to the ground with a "thud," sprawled out on its back, and gasped for breath. The jade-like man in white ignored the disheveled state behind him. After glancing at the distant camp, his handsome brows furrowed slightly, and he disdainfully tapped his bone flute in front of his nose.

"Tsk, what a filthy and foul smell. Surrendered subject, is this the little trinket you mentioned in your letter that was worth my visit despite the wind and snow? The presentation is acceptable, but the taste is truly appalling."

The older sister untied the backpack, which was taller than her, and crawled inside. She wrapped herself in a thick, snow-white fur coat, with only her big, curious eyes peeking out. After a while, she suddenly jumped out.

But after jumping out, she started bouncing around uncontrollably, rubbing her small, slightly red, frozen hands, her voice loud and full of dissatisfaction: "I'm freezing to death! I'm freezing to death! You old hag..."

Under the sidelong glance of the surrendered minister, the elder sister immediately shuddered and said seriously, "Sister Jiangchen, what kind of place is this?! The wind hurts my face! What's fun about this? I want to see a fight! Isn't that exciting?"

As she spoke, she sniffed hard through her small nose and pointed towards the camp, "Hey, it looks like they're going to have a big feast inside? It's all bloody, and the smell is really strong!"

The last figure to arrive was like an iron tower pounding the ground, causing the snow beneath its feet to slide off in a rustling sound. After feeding the camels, the drought demon steadily carried a heavy bag on its shoulder, almost as big as three of the older sisters. Its face was honest and simple. Then it squatted down beside the older sister and said in a deep voice, "Demon, you harm people, you deserve to die."

The surrendered official smiled faintly, as if he had anticipated the reactions of the three men.

Her tone remained calm, yet carried a subtle hint of amusement: "They've arrived? The timing is perfect. That little thing inside is busy using the lives of tens of thousands of people as fuel to simmer itself into a pot of ascension soup."

Her slender fingers pointed towards the campsite covered by wind and snow. "However, he has indeed become quite skilled and is not easy to deal with. Tell me, should we lift the lid and pour the cold water on him now, or wait until he thinks the soup is ready and is about to pick up the ladle... and take the whole pot and ladle at the same time?"

Hou Qing didn't seem very interested, and simply said indifferently, "You come back every few years to clean up your own house, and you've never made a mistake before. How come you misjudged it last time? Clean up your own problems. I came to the Northern Desert to seek peace and quiet and appreciate the scenery, not to fight."

The surrendered official had a half-smile on his face.

The older sister's eyes darted around, her little face full of calculation: "Tens of thousands of people! How can the four of us possibly win? Why didn't you ask the boys to help you? When we came here, we heard he was in Hebei, and he'd arrested and killed a lot of people. He's so powerful, why did you have to come to me instead of him..."

Before she could finish speaking, the surrendered minister smiled and reached out, striking his elder sister's head with a precise, light tap of the drumstick.

"Ouch!" the elder sister cried out in pain, clutching her head, her eyes brimming with tears, looking at the surrendered minister with a pitiful expression.

The surrendered official crossed his arms gracefully, casually glancing sideways at the three men: "Enough with the nonsense. One word: are you in or not?"

"I'll stay," the drought demon said in a deep, gruff voice, the first to speak, his words concise and to the point.

The older sister, clutching her head, secretly glanced at the surrendered minister, only to meet his still-smiling gaze. She jolted, straightened up abruptly, puffed out her chest, and struck a pose of righteous indignation, declaring crisply, "Who else but me?! Watching fights and the excitement is what I love most!"

All three of them turned their gazes to Hou Qing, who had not yet expressed his opinion.

Hou Qing remained calm and composed, smoothing the hem of his spotless white robe. He said, "Hanba will stay to monitor their movements. Ying will go in and fight tens of thousands of people alone, while the surrendered minister will be responsible for kicking the pot. I will go and open the shop first, prepare the banquet, and await your triumphant return."

The surrendered official smiled, then turned gracefully, stood with his hands behind his back, and drawled, "Good—"

Before she could finish speaking, she parted her red lips and uttered two words: "Tie him up."

Hou Qing's brows furrowed, and his elder sister, who was seething with hatred, pounced on him like a wolf, while Hanba tacitly embraced Hou Qing from behind and restrained him.

"Brother, I'm letting you try taking on tens of thousands of people one-on-one...!"

Hou Qing's ever-present composure finally showed a hint of helplessness, his brows furrowing deeply: "...What kind of behavior is this!"

------

Deep in the northern grasslands, hundreds of miles south of the Chute tribe lies Dading Prefecture.

The wind and snow intensified after nightfall, sounding like thousands of vengeful ghosts howling across the wasteland.

On the outskirts of this new royal court in the northern desert, a thick leather tent stands against the howling wind. Inside the tent, the flame of an oil lamp flickers like a bean, swaying wildly in the biting wind that seeps in through the gaps, casting a slender shadow of a person sitting at a low table onto the tent wall, twisting and trembling like an uneasy ghost.

Shi Jingtang sat alone under the lamp, the dim light illuminating his pale face. In his hand he clutched a small roll of thin silk, slightly damp with sweat, his knuckles bluish-white from excessive force.

He had read this secret letter no less than five times. It was written by his father-in-law, Li Siyuan, who should have died but hadn't, and who truly deserved to die. And with each reading, his expression grew more grim.

"The situation has changed drastically, and the fate of my father hangs by a thread, uncertain from day to night..."

"...My dear son-in-law, you must do everything in your power...to ignite war across the grasslands, leaving Shuliduo overwhelmed and unable to attend to anything else...This concerns our very lives..."

Every word was like a red-hot branding iron, searing into Shi Jingtang's heart. The howling wind outside the tent sounded like a death knell.

They've gone mad... they've really gone mad.

A chill ran from Shi Jingtang's feet straight to his head, freezing his limbs and bones. While spring had already fallen in the Central Plains, the grasslands remained frozen. Had Yelü Lage's rabble been adequately prepared in terms of provisions, morale, and fighting spirit?
Even if Shuliduo is in dire straits, its foundation remains intact. Moreover, Yuan Xingqin's two thousand iron cavalry are stationed near Dading Prefecture. With them at the core, they could easily raise a cavalry force of tens of thousands. To hastily launch an uprising at this time would be tantamount to driving a pack of hungry wolves to crash into an impenetrable wall—a certain death!

Even more critically, the King of Qin now holds the dying wish of the King of Jin in his hands.

That dying wish was a death knell hanging over Li Siyuan's head, ready to fall at any moment. Li Siyuan was driven to the brink, making this desperate, reckless decision. He was gambling, risking the chaos of the entire northern desert, even his own life and fortune, for a slim chance of turning the tide!
A chilling feeling of being abandoned and discarded instantly enveloped Shi Jingtang.

He knew his father-in-law all too well. Ruthless and heartless. He was only being used right now, which was why his father-in-law treated him kindly and supported him wholeheartedly. But if this desperate gamble failed, the first one to be dragged out and torn to pieces would be him, Shi Jingtang.

Even in order to absolve himself of responsibility or divert attention, his relatives, whom he had painstakingly protected in Taiyuan City, would be in danger in an instant, becoming sacrifices for Li Siyuan to protect himself.

The relentless fear almost suffocated Shi Jingtang, leaving him at a loss. A sense of dread, as if Li Siyuan was about to drag him down with him, caused cold sweat to continuously seep from his back.

The Jin state, like a broken ship, was already riddled with holes and destined to sink from the moment Li Keyong died suddenly and Li Siyuan faked his death.

Now, the King of Qin holds Li Siyuan's Achilles' heel, causing Li Siyuan to erupt in a final frenzy, which is merely the final boulder that hastens his downfall.

If I continue to follow this old dog, I fear my only fate will be utter destruction and eternal damnation.

After pacing for a long time, Shi Jingtang took a deep breath of cold air, forcibly suppressing the fear that was about to burst from his throat. The fear in his eyes receded like the tide, replaced by a sharp glint like that of a hunter.

He quickly spread out a new sheet of thin silk, picked up his brush, and dipped it in ink. Each word he wrote came from his heart, filled with deep concern for his father-in-law's situation.

"My esteemed father-in-law, I have read your letter and was shocked to learn that the traitor Xiao possesses relics of the late king. Your situation is extremely precarious, and I am heartbroken. I wish I could sprout wings and fly to your side to die for you. My esteemed father-in-law, this is truly a matter of life and death... I know the situation is urgent and cannot be delayed. Please rest assured, my esteemed father-in-law, I will do everything in my power, even at the cost of my life, to stir up trouble in the northern desert, to buy you a chance to recover, and to help our Jin Kingdom overcome this calamity. There is no time to lose; I will act immediately. I will report the details later by galloping. I earnestly hope that you will take good care of yourself and await good news. Your son-in-law, Jingtang, bows again in urgent need."

After writing the last sentence, Shi Jingtang pondered it for a moment, and then held it up to the flickering flame of the oil lamp.

The orange flames licked at the corner of the paper, spreading rapidly, swallowing, curling, and turning the ink filled with words of "willing to die" into ashes. The flickering firelight reflected on Shi Jingtang's expressionless face, its light and shadow shifting. He watched silently as the letter completely turned to ash, falling to the cold ground, where he crushed it into the dust with his boots.

Then, he wrote a new letter that was more submissive and implied a request for a specific plan. He carefully rolled it up, summoned a man outside the tent—the only attendant Li Siyuan had sent to his side—and solemnly handed him the secret letter, his voice extremely low.

"You must deliver it yourself. Remember, this letter concerns the safety of Mount Tai and the survival of the State of Jin. It must be delivered to Mount Tai."

As he watched his attendants disappear swiftly into the snow outside the tent, the last trace of warmth in his eyes vanished completely.

“Father-in-law…please don’t blame your son-in-law for being heartless.” He spoke in a low voice to the empty tent, “It was you…who were heartless to me first.”

Shi Jingtang stood up and blew out the flickering oil lamp. The tent was instantly swallowed by thick darkness, leaving only the increasingly fierce howling of the wind and snow outside.

He adjusted his robes in the dark, tightened the belt of his fur coat with meticulous movements, and then lifted the heavy curtain. The biting cold wind, carrying snowflakes, cut his face like ice knives.

Shi Jingtang narrowed his eyes slightly and stepped into the vast, seemingly all-consuming snowstorm without hesitation. His figure was quickly swallowed up by the swirling snow, and the direction he disappeared in was precisely where the royal tent where he could present himself to Rido was located.

(End of this chapter)