Chapter 72: The Shang Army Gathers at the Gate of Immortality (Part 1)

Let us set aside, for now, the matter of the Imperial Preceptor Yuanji descending upon Yangyi and abducting the Empress Su Su. In the dead of night, the Grand Tutor of Great Xia, Ranlong, spurred his steed and galloped toward Zhenxun, crossing mountains and rivers at breakneck speed. Behind him, nine hundred thousand soldiers thundered forth, their advance raising clouds of dust and sand, their numbers swelled by one hundred and fifty thousand troops from the Four Heroic States. The sheer might of this host shook the heavens and the earth.

The day before, Yangyi had witnessed a ferocious battle that raged from dawn till dusk. The clash obscured the sun and moon. Su Moran, though victorious over the Lion King, fell into the cunning snare of the side-faced Jialuo. Both Su Moran and the Lion King were grievously wounded, utterly spent and incapable of further combat. The Grand Elder of Qingqiu arrived belatedly with reinforcements, accompanied even by the White Yi Ape King, yet they could not wrest Su Su from the grasp of Yuanji. All they could do was watch helplessly as the Preceptor vanished with her prize.

That night, with the Empress of the Nine Yi captured, the tribe, under the rallying cry of Grand Elder Su Qianshu, renewed their spirit. The authority of the Nine Yi was temporarily entrusted to the White Yi Ape King, who, with decisive vigor, reorganized the tribe for war against Xia. Of the millions among the Nine Yi, only four hundred and fifty thousand elite warriors could take up arms.

The White Yi boasted five divisions of fierce heavy cavalry mounted on mammoths. The Yu Yi, masters of forest warfare, formed five divisions of agile archers. The Fang Yi, skilled in siegecraft, provided five divisions of war chariots. The Huang Yi, experts in beast taming, fielded five divisions of beast-riders. The Chi Yi, valiant and nimble, supplied five divisions of infantry. The Xuan Yi, with their five divisions of stone-throwers, commanded powerful catapults. The Feng Yi, trainers of spirit birds and unrivaled in intelligence gathering, could unleash five divisions of aerial beasts for strikes from above. Finally, the Yang Yi, under the Lion King's command, formed five divisions of swift lion cavalry.

Thus, with the Ape King’s strict arrangement, the entire Nine Yi moved swiftly, departing at once for Zhenxun without pause. The great war of the human realm in the Nine Provinces was about to ignite. The Phoenix King of the Feng Yi, ever resourceful, had learned that Grand Tutor Ranlong—peerless God of War of the Nine Provinces—was leading six hundred thousand troops from the Four Heroic States back to Zhenxun at breakneck pace. After consulting with Su Moran, they resolved to hasten to the outer passes of Great Xia, to assist Shang Tang and the lords of the Nine Provinces in their campaign against Xia.

Meanwhile, the Xia camp remained ignorant of the Nine Yi’s defection; they had now become a faction within the anti-Xia alliance.

On this very night, as the armies of the Nine Provinces united to assault King Jie of Xia and gathered before the Deathless Pass, another tragedy unfolded beside the Yiluo River. Banished to the cold palace, Lady Xiqi—Seventh Daughter—leapt from the high beam of the solitary tower. Despite the desperate pleas of her handmaid Xiaohua, she fell to her death, her end wretched and bleak.

The solitary palace on the Yiluo stood on a small island, shrouded nightly in chill and gloom, its atmosphere as forbidding as the depths of the underworld. Heavily guarded, it was devoid of all Lady’s former attendants save Xiaohua, who alone witnessed Lady Xiqi’s final act. Had Xiaohua not seen it with her own eyes, the world would never have known of Seventh Daughter’s demise, her body left to decay in obscurity.

Nearby, the little plump creature that had been at play seemed to sense the tragedy. It turned sharply, witnessing Seventh Daughter’s fatal leap, and cried out in despair, “Zhi zhi! Seventh Daughter!” It rushed to her side, snuggling its chubby form against her lifeless body, tears streaming down its face in utter confusion and helplessness.

With its stubby little legs, it tried to nudge her fragile form awake, but Lady Xiqi had long since breathed her last. Stripped of her cultivation and ravaged by King Jie’s relentless abuse, she had lost all will to linger in this world.

Seeing the blood and smoke issuing from her seven orifices, the little creature lay upon her like a grieving child, wailing in agony. Xiaohua, witnessing this, felt a profound sorrow; together, maid and beast knelt in mourning, their tears falling like rain.

Then, as Xiaohua tended to Lady Xiqi’s body, she discovered something—an unassuming piece of white silk, still stained with fresh blood and covered densely in verse:

“To My Lord:

I leave these lines for you to see,
In the next life, may I be your bride anew.
On the Bridge of Regret, I’ll wait for thee,
A thousand years by Forgetfulness’ stream, I’ll not rue.
Love and hate, mistaken for ink,
Half a lifetime’s sorrow, each word I think.
Remorse for wounds I gave you then,
Turned in hindsight, all in vain.

Mortal woes number three thousand and more,
Longing for you is the one I can’t cure.
Though hearts align, they seldom embrace,
One more glance, and love I cannot erase.

Fate denies us this life’s union,
Forget me now, I beg you in this one.
Let the world’s blame and scorn be mine,
In the shadowed grave, I shall not pine.

My heart’s clear light knows the sage’s worth,
Let not my hopes for you be lost on earth.
If the fool is replaced by the wise and true,
Infamy for ages—I’d accept that, too.

—Signed, Seventh Daughter of Mount Song.”

In those tight lines of white silk, her bitterness and grief spilled forth. Not even in her final signature did she use the name Lady Xiqi; instead, she wrote the title unknown to the world—Seventh Daughter of the Seven Heroes of Mount Song. Though frail and gentle, her heart embraced all living souls; such was her greatness. She knew that the more the people of Zhenxun and Great Xia resented her, the more effective her actions had been. Though her methods were harsh and cunning, they would deliver the people a wise and virtuous ruler.

If so, what harm in being a little more ruthless and devious? All she wished was for the people of the Nine Provinces to be freed from the hands of a deluded tyrant. If it meant her own soul would suffer in the netherworld, if she would bear a name reviled for a thousand ages, she accepted her fate willingly.

As Xiaohua finished reading this testament, tears streamed down her face. Her heart ached as if cut by knives; she felt the utmost injustice for Seventh Daughter. Such a kind soul, forced to shoulder this burden alone. Seventh Daughter’s heart had always been with the people. Her secret pact with Yi Yin of Shangqiu had been made of desperation, an act of last resort. Even Yi Yin, wise as he was, could never have foreseen such a tragic end for her.

Now, a resolve formed in Xiaohua’s heart. She would risk everything to escape the cold palace, to reach Shangqiu and reveal to King Wu, Cheng Tang, the truth of Seventh Daughter’s heart and the secret of her sacrifice. The only thing she left behind was this verse; Xiaohua would ensure King Wu saw it, to reveal how Seventh Daughter, a frail woman, navigated the corrupt court, how she used her wits to manipulate King Jie, bring ruin to his kingdom, draw the people’s wrath, and sever the very roots of a nation.

The little creature, seeing Xiaohua’s hidden grief, suddenly underwent a transformation. Its plump form glowed faintly yellow, and soon a wisp of green smoke arose. From it stepped a short, chubby little boy.

Xiaohua recoiled in fright. “You—you—are you a monster or a man? Oh, a demon!”

“Hush!” said the plump boy, now looking entirely human, wrapped in a dusty yellow robe, adorable and round, as if carved from jade. “The guards are outside. Don’t worry about whether I’m man or monster. Let’s bury Seventh Daughter first! I was blessed to meet her in this life. Were it not for her help, teaching me to cultivate and take human form, I’d never have become what I am! Wuwuwu—!”

He broke down in tears. Xiaohua, half-believing, watched as he carefully lifted Seventh Daughter’s body and headed for the rear courtyard. Fearing the guards would hear them, she hurried after.

In the rear courtyard, the plump boy worked a spell, conjuring earth into a mound and raising a stone stele: The Tomb of Seventh Daughter, Lady Xiqi. The two knelt before the grave in silent mourning.

…

At dawn, in the solitary palace of Yiluo, the plump boy used earth magic to spirit himself and Xiaohua away, their destination unknown.

At the same time, Grand Tutor Ranlong led his nine hundred thousand troops to the Deathless Pass. As the sun rose in the east, he stood alone before the gateway. Clad in the armor of the Divine Rhinoceros and draped in a crimson cloak, with the Divine Rhinoceros helmet on his brow and the Dragon-Slaying Halberd at his side, he looked every inch a god of war.

Behind him stood the mighty General Guo Jingyuan—Four Eyes and Six Ears—of Tiger Pass, a giant among men with a demonic visage, astride his northern barbarian beast, at Ranlong’s right. On his left, the victorious General Wu Qigong of Black Tortoise Pass, red-robed and armored in northern black turtle shell, with silver hair streaming in the wind, mounted on a crimson horse and holding a seven-headed cobra scepter, his presence radiant and commanding.

Behind these three stood the generals of the Four Heroic States, all battle-hardened veterans. With nine hundred thousand troops, the three great generals of Xia’s three passes, and Grand Tutor Ranlong himself, they were a force capable of sweeping aside any lord in the Nine Provinces.

Before the battle could begin, a small yellow figure darted into the allied camp. It was the now fully transformed groundhog, the plump boy, who brought Xiaohua with him using his earth magic. Familiar with Yi Yin’s aura, he burrowed straight into the latter’s tent.

Inside, Yi Yin sat alone by the lamp, reading ancient bamboo scrolls. Suddenly, the earth before the table shifted, a yellow mist arose, and two figures emerged. Seeing a maid and a small, plump boy, Yi Yin betrayed no surprise, simply rising with hands behind his back. “Who are you?” he asked gravely.

Xiaohua knelt at once. “I am Lady Xiqi’s handmaid. This was once her pet, now able to take human form. I have urgent news for King Cheng Tang!”

Yi Yin eyed them warily. “What matter is so dire that you cannot first tell me? Know that the fate of our armies hangs by a thread; should you disturb the King’s mind, it could bring disaster.”

“I am an old acquaintance of Seventh Daughter. If the matter concerns Lady Xiqi, you may confide in me.”

Seeing Xiaohua close to tears, Yi Yin realized something terrible had happened to Xiqi and softened his tone, hoping she would tell him all.

Through her tears, Xiaohua said, “Seventh Daughter took her own life at Yiluo, leaving behind these verses for the King’s eyes alone.”

Yi Yin was struck as if by a heavy blow, his heart plunging into a deep abyss. He had always known Lady Xiqi to be gentle and composed, but within, she was resolute. The plan to send her to Xia in exchange for King Cheng Tang was an act of desperation, sacrificing a woman of unmatched beauty to a den of tigers—there could be no hope of return.

What became of them next? That is a tale for another time.