Legend of the Female General – CH 112

Chapter 112. Return.

The crowd below did not clearly see how He Yan and Bazhu had determined victory. They only saw the two grappling together, Bazhu striking He Yan with a palm, and He Yan using some hidden weapon to pierce Bazhu’s neck.

Though the method was not entirely honorable, she had ultimately won.

“Brother He is amazing!” Cheng Lisu was the first to shout: “Well fought! Well fought!”

“Shut up!” Song Taotao scolded him from the side.

Cheng Lisu was displeased: “What’s wrong with cheering for my brother?”

“It’s not yet time to relax.” Song Taotao shook her head. Girls were, after all, more attentive than boys; she noticed He Yan’s face was paler than before, and her heart sank, thinking He Yan might be injured. But He Yan was wearing black clothes, so it was impossible to see exactly where she was hurt.

On the stage, the black-clad youth in tight-fitting clothes lifted his chin slightly and asked with a smile: “Is no one else daring to come up?”

At that moment, Rida Muzi suddenly burst into loud laughter, clapping as he laughed: “Interesting, interesting! I never expected Liangzhou Garrison to have such an interesting person!” Before his words faded, he spurred his horse toward the martial arts field stage.

His movements were swift, catching everyone around off guard. Several Liangzhou recruits were nearly trampled under his horse’s hooves, fortunately pulled aside by those nearby. Rida Muzi abruptly reined in his horse just a step away from the martial arts field stage, leaped onto the platform, and landed in front of He Yan.

“Surely the commander does not intend to step onto the field himself?” the youth said in surprise. “I am but a mere recruit—how could I possibly deserve such an honor?”

“You killed two of my warriors; that does not seem like an ordinary recruit,” Rida Muzi laughed heartily, showing no displeasure over the loss of his beloved generals.

“It was merely luck.”

“No need for modesty. I watched your fights with those two just now. You deserve to be called Liangzhou Garrison’s number one!” Rida Muzi said, then looked at the crowd below the martial arts field stage with a scornful smile. “I see that only you here possess both courage and strategy. However…” he shifted his tone. “I wonder how much longer the wound at your waist can hold up?”

He Yan remained silent.

Rida Muzi looked at her with interest: “Bazhu was my most capable subordinate. He attacked your waist twice in succession just now—it seems you have an old injury there. The last time, when you drove the hidden weapon into his throat, he…” He walked over to Bazhu’s side, nudging the corpse with his foot. Bazhu rolled onto his back. “His hand loosened—did he drive something into your waist? A knife?”

Rida Muzi asked with feigned concern: “Oh dear, that must hurt terribly.”

“Actually, it is not too bad,” He Yan smiled. “Not as much as his pain.”

Rida Muzi stared at her for a moment, then laughed: “Excellent. I like tough bones like you the most—they taste especially sweet when broken.” Just as Bazhu had done to Wala earlier, he kicked Bazhu’s corpse off the high platform and chuckled lightly: “Useless trash.”

Immediately after, Rida Muzi slowly drew the curved blade from his waist.

Seeing this, Shen Han’s gaze sharpened, and he angrily said, “Rida Muzi, as a commander, how can you engage with a recruit from our Liangzhou Garrison? If you wish to spar, I will accommodate you!”

“You?” Rida Muzi slowly shook his head. “You are not even as good as him. I want him—this He… He Yan.”

“Instructor Shen, let me handle it,” He Yan said.

In truth, what she and Shen Han discussed mattered little, for Rida Muzi had already set his sights on He Yan. This was the worst possible situation, yet at the same time, it was fortunate enough—it bought them more time.

“Are you not going to change your weapon?” Rida Muzi laughed. “My blade will cut through your whip.”

“Perhaps my whip will snap your blade,” He Yan replied with a bright smile, gripping her whip with both hands and holding it horizontally before her eyes.

The Qiang tribe soldiers used curved blades, each one unique. Rida Muzi’s curved blade was exceptionally large and long, standing half a person’s height. It was stained with the blood of countless victims, giving it a dark reddish hue. As soon as the blade left its sheath, sunlight glinted off it, carrying a faint scent of blood.

He Yan had no choice but to use the whip. During her years fighting the Qiang, she had always wielded a sword. If anyone here had ever seen “General Feihong,” they would immediately recognize that her sword techniques were identical to those of “General Feihong.” As for using a blade, the Qiang were masters of the blade. Wielding one in front of them would be like attacking their strength with her own weakness—nothing but self-inflicted suffering. After much thought, the iron whip seemed the most practical choice.

Rida Muzi charged forward with his blade.

His steps were swift, and despite his robust build, his movements were remarkably agile. He was also clever, maintaining a precise distance just beyond the reach of He Yan’s whip.

He Yan tried to wrap her whip around his blade, but Rida Muzi dodged and countered with a slash against the iron whip. A loud “clang” echoed, and though the whip remained intact, it sent a shiver down everyone’s spine.

If this continued, it was uncertain how long the whip could hold up. The weapons on the rack were meant for soldiers’ training—sturdy and durable—but Rida Muzi’s blade was clearly a treasure, incomparable to ordinary weapons.

He laughed heartily, swinging his blade horizontally. He Yan’s whip coiled around the blade but failed to pull it away. Rida Muzi’s strength was immense. “Naive!” he exclaimed, yanking the blade toward himself, pulling He Yan’s body along with it as she was dragged toward him.

“Brother He, be careful!” Xiao Mai could not help but cry out.

As He Yan flew toward Rida Muzi, seemingly about to collide with his blade, the youth suddenly smiled. With a flick of her wrist, she maneuvered the whip, slipping it beneath the blade’s edge and striking Rida Muzi across the face. Meanwhile, she used the momentum of her flight to leap over Rida Muzi’s head, landing with a roll on the ground before coming to a stop.

Only then did the hearts of the onlookers settle back into place.

Rida Muzi slowly turned his head.

Already fierce and brutal in appearance, he now bore a bleeding gash on his cheek from He Yan’s whip. Blood trickled down his face, but Rida Muzi seemed unfazed. He casually wiped it away, licked the blood from his lips, and fixed his gaze on He Yan. “You are truly impressive,” he said softly, his voice sending chills down the spines of those who heard it.

He Yan replied, “Likewise.”

The wound on her waist throbbed with pain at the slightest movement. The roll she had just executed had driven the blade fragment embedded in her body even deeper. Yet, she could not remove it now—firstly, there was no time for such an action here, and secondly, if she pulled it out, the bleeding would be unstoppable, and she would quickly lose her strength.

But now, He Yan was not as relaxed as she appeared. The dagger that Bazhu had thrust into her body was not long, short and delicate, about the width of an index finger, and it had been inserted horizontally. Although it did not hit a vital spot, it happened to lie over an old wound. The original wound had split open, and as she fought with others on the martial arts field, the movement strained her flesh, driving the blade deeper. It was no different from feeling her flesh being cut while fully conscious.

She lowered her head and quickly bit her lip, restoring color to her lips. Once again, she looked like the spirited young recruit that she was.

“How much longer can you hold on?” Rida Muzi asked, unconcerned, with a laugh. “Your sweat is about to run dry.”

“Is that so?” He Yan wiped her face. “Perhaps the weather is too hot.”

Rida Muzi slowly raised his blade and lunged forward with a sinister grin. “Your blood will also run dry!”

He Yan charged forward.

The new recruits of the Liangzhou Garrison below watched with bated breath. He Yan did not seem as effortless facing Rida Muzi as she had been with the previous two opponents. Rida Muzi was cunning and brutal, and no matter how formidable He Yan usually was, in the end, she was just a sixteen-year-old half-grown child.

Jiang Jiao murmured, “He cannot hold on much longer.”

“He might be injured.” Huang Xiong frowned deeply. “If it really comes to it,” he touched the golden-backed broadsword on his person, “we should all rush up together; we cannot just watch him die in vain.”

Wang Ba cursed, “Damn it! Why are the instructors not stopping this? Letting a greenhorn go up to fight? How shameful!”

Shen Han stood among the crowd, his eyes fixed on He Yan’s figure, the note in his hand nearly crushed. Liang Ping, beside him, was frantic and whispered, “Chief Instructor, we cannot just keep waiting like this. We cannot let these Western Qiang people take charge. Should we not…”

“Do not act on your own!” Shen Han hissed. “Wait a little longer.”

Wait? Wait for what?

On the stage, He Yan and Rida Muzi exchanged another dozen moves.

Her movements were no longer as swift as before, noticeably slower now. She managed to graze Rida Muzi’s arm a few times with her blade, but each time, he narrowly avoided it, though he still ended up wounded.

Yet the smile on her face never wavered from beginning to end. It was as if this were not a life-and-death bloodbath but merely a casual, joyful sparring session with a companion after daily training.

This puzzled Rida Muzi.

He said, “Are all Central Plains people as good at pretending as you?”

“Not exactly,” He Yan replied, her voice trembling slightly from pain. She smiled. “I am especially good at pretending.”

Rida Muzi’s smile was not as relaxed as before.

He Yan dared not let her guard down against him.

Back when she fought against the Western Qiang, their commander, Rida Muji, was brutal and savage, his curved blade reaping countless souls. Wherever he went, bones piled high. Rida Muji’s favorite pastime was using his curved blade to behead captives and tie their heads to his horse’s tail. The bloodied, mangled heads of the dead became lifelong nightmares for many Central Plains civilians.

The Fuyue Army, led by He Yan, and the Qiang tribe army, led by Rida Muji, repeatedly engaged in fierce battles. In every encounter, He Yan could sense the cunning and terror of her opponent.

In the final battle, Rida Muji died at He Yan’s hands.

In life, he had loved beheading others, likely never imagining that after death, his own head would be severed by someone else, placed in a jewel-encrusted box, brought to the imperial palace in the capital, and presented before the emperor, becoming a general’s military achievement in exchange for rich rewards.

After Rida Muji’s death, the Western Qiang were left leaderless, and the rebellion was quickly suppressed. Yet the man before her now, named Rida Muzi, bore a face identical to Rida Muji’s.

He Yan had personally watched Rida Muji breathe his last—he could not have returned from the dead. Moreover, Rida Muji’s eyes were dark green, while Rida Muzi’s were dark blue. He Yan then recalled hearing that Rida Muji had a twin brother, born with savage strength and a fierce, domineering nature. However, due to discord over the leadership position, he had left years ago, and his whereabouts were unknown.

It now appeared that this was Rida Muji’s twin brother, Rida Muzi.

He had likely learned of his brother’s death and perhaps gathered the remnants of the Qiang tribe’s forces before leading his men to the Liangzhou Garrison. He was cunning as well, having learned from a spy that Xiao Jue was currently not at the Liangzhou Garrison and that the new recruits here were still inexperienced, which emboldened him to act so brazenly.

But Rida Muzi was no fool. No matter how brave and fierce his men were, a thousand against the tens of thousands of elite soldiers of the Liangzhou Garrison could not possibly prevail. Therefore, his forces must far exceed this number. This was a trap long laid against the Liangzhou Garrison. In front of the garrison lay Baiyue Mountain, and behind it flowed the Wulu River. If they had an army, crossing over from Baiyue Mountain in such heavy snow would be impossible. Thus, the most likely approach was to take the nearest water route under cover of night and cross over.

He Yan had never met Rida Muzi before, but having fought Rida Muji many times, she was well aware of his tactics. This man loved setting up arenas, claiming he wished to spar with his opponent, yet his methods were treacherous. Most Central Plains warriors, who adhered to honorable and righteous ways, would fall into his hands. In this manner, even before the battle began, morale would be lost. Once fear of the Qiang people took hold, defeat would often follow. Many Great Wei generals in the past had fallen victim to Rida Muji’s schemes.

In war, deceit was permissible, but morale was paramount. He Yan understood clearly that although Rida Muzi was at odds with his brother, their methods were identical. The new recruits of the Liangzhou Garrison would inevitably face a fierce battle with Rida Muzi’s men today. She had done all she could, and the final task was to gather enough morale for Great Wei’s warriors on this martial arts field.

With morale, their first battle would unleash their true strength.

“I despise pretentious Central Plains people the most,” Rida Muzi, who finally grew impatient, said. He glanced into the distance, as if waiting for some news, but none came. Turning back, he said, “Let’s end this quickly!”

He Yan smiled. “I was thinking the same.”

She reached out and tightened her belt once more. The belt covered her wound, preventing excessive bleeding, but it also brought more pain and discomfort.

Rida Muzi watched her movements and suddenly said, “You remind me of someone.”

He Yan asked, “Who?”

“I’ve never met him, but I heard from my unfortunate brother that there was a general in the Central Plains named He Rufei, who could pull out an arrow shaft and continue commanding even after being struck on the battlefield. He ultimately died at He Rufei’s hands. You… are very much like that person.”

Upon hearing this, He Yan smiled. “Wrong, I am not He Rufei, nor do I resemble him.”

She glanced at the crowd from Liangzhou below the stage. “However, every son of Great Wei is like me—as long as we live, we will fight to the end! The Central Plains will have thousands upon thousands of General Feihongs. As for your Western Qiang,” she raised her eyes, her tone laced with mockery, “how many can you produce?”

With that, she brandished her iron whip and charged straight toward Rida Muzi!

Rida Muzi sneered, not taking it seriously. In his view, He Yan was already injured, with old wounds and new ones—nothing more than a spent force. Though her endurance was surprising, she would not last much longer.

The curved blade and iron whip clashed together, ringing with the sound of metal.

“Brother He…” Xiao Mai watched from below, her heart clenched, unable to settle.

He Yan’s movements grew faster.

Her whip strikes became quicker and quicker, surpassing the speed of Rida Muzi’s blade swings. The curved blade was large and heavy, and for an ordinary person, Rida Muzi’s movements were already swift. But they were no match for the steel whip. The whip slipped through every gap before the blade could swing, striking Rida Muzi’s face. What was once just a single bloodstain had, in a mere moment, become several streaks of blood.

“Is this all you can do?” Rida Muzi, angered by the successive whip strikes, grew increasingly violent. His curved blade aimed straight for He Yan’s neck, but He Yan, being petite, dodged it effortlessly.

“You are nothing special either.” The youth even had time to tilt her head and taunt.

What was going on? Rida Muzi grew more and more astonished. It seemed as though, as time passed, He Yan’s movements were only getting faster. Was she not injured? Why was she still so agile, showing no signs of being affected? Could it be that she had been pretending all along? Did this kid have no old injuries at all?

He Yan sidestepped the blade’s tip, tapped her toes on the ground, and circled behind Rida Muzi.

This man wore armor, hard and unyielding. Her whip had struck Rida Muzi’s body before, but it left no mark on the armor.

Then, like the Wala, his entire body had only one weakness left.

She narrowed her eyes slightly and attacked towards Rida Muzi’s back.

Rida Muzi turned and blocked He Yan’s iron whip with his blade, sending her flying backward. In the blink of an eye, she used the momentum to pounce on him again.

This was practically a fight to the death—all offense and no defense.

“Could it be that he wants to perish together?” Jiang Jiao murmured.

To outsiders, He Yan’s all-or-nothing approach seemed desperate, but in reality, it was not so dire. Instead, Rida Muzi, who had been confident of victory from the start, was gradually losing ground.

This youth seemed to know the trajectory of every one of his blade strikes, evading them early in each exchange. Moreover, she quickly identified the weaknesses in Rida Muzi’s swordsmanship, exploiting them to attack, leaving him somewhat flustered.

How old was he? Only fifteen or sixteen, yet he could discern his weaknesses in an instant. To have such an enemy was a terrifying thing. And if, as this youth said, the Central Plains had countless people like him, what about Western Qiang? How many could Western Qiang produce? Such prodigious talent—none, not a single one.

For a moment, Rida Muzi felt the urge to retreat.

His morale had faltered.

However, in this regard, he was wronging He Yan. No matter how skilled He Yan was, she could not judge her opponent’s movements and patterns after just a few exchanges, especially against someone like Rida Muzi. The truth was, perhaps due to their bond as twin brothers or because they shared the same master, Rida Muzi’s blade techniques were identical to those of Rida Muji.

In her past life, He Yan had fought Rida Muji countless times, knowing both herself and her enemy well, and had long memorized his moves. Now, this familiarity worked to her advantage against Rida Muzi. The fear that arose in Rida Muzi played right into He Yan’s hands.

It was simply a matter of giving someone a taste of their own medicine.

They were accustomed to crushing others’ morale to boost their own, and now they finally experienced the feeling of despair. This was the perfect opportunity.

He Yan’s whip lashed faster and faster, leaving the onlookers dazzled. Rida Muzi felt as though the iron whip had become a living snake, coiling and dancing before him, its shadow flickering. When he swung his blade, it met only air, while a real whip struck his forehead.

Enraged, he slashed fiercely at He Yan, but the youth had already circled behind him. This move had appeared earlier when dealing with Wala. Sensing danger, Rida Muzi inwardly cursed, but the iron whip was already swirling before his eyes like a heavy shackle, about to ensnare his neck.

Then, with one more pull, his throat would snap, and he would die just like Wala.

At the critical moment, he shouted, “Ke Muzhi—”

It seemed to be the name of one of his subordinates. The next moment, a woman’s startled cry echoed across the martial arts field. It was Song Taotao, who had been seized by a Qiang warrior and thrown onto the martial arts field stage.

The Qiang warrior was burly and immensely strong, while Song Taotao was merely a slender young girl. Tossed like cargo, if she fell, she would be severely injured, if not killed.

No one below the stage could reach her in time.

He Yan’s whip, which had been circling Rida Muzi’s neck, suddenly flew toward Song Taotao. He Yan herself also lunged toward the girl.

The iron whip wrapped around Song Taotao’s body as He Yan flew over, catching her in her arms. The two crashed heavily to the ground. He Yan cushioned Song Taotao’s fall, but the impact aggravated the wound at her waist, causing her to gasp sharply in pain.

“Brother, be careful!” Cheng Lisu’s voice suddenly rang out.

“He Yan!”

“Brother He!”

Anxious cries came from all directions, with Liang Ping’s voice particularly piercing. He Yan turned her head and saw a flash of blade light hurtling toward her.

While catching Song Taotao, she had exposed her back. Rida Muzi’s curved blade descended viciously, aiming to cut her in two.

He Yan pushed Song Taotao aside and closed her eyes against the blade’s wind.

She no longer had the strength to move.

“Die!”

“Bang—”

There was no expected pain, nor blood splattering everywhere. Something had knocked the curved blade aside, and it seemed someone had stepped in front of her.

He Yan slowly opened her eyes.

A familiar figure in dark blue stood before her, the hem of his robe embroidered with a silver-scaled python woven from silver thread. The young man stood tall and straight as a pine tree, his calm demeanor bringing a sense of reassurance. The long sword in his hand remained sheathed, gleaming like ice, radiant and dazzling.

It was this narrow and slender Yinqiu Sword that brushed aside the deadly butcher’s blade.

“Commander… Commander! It is the Commander!” The crowd below was stunned for a moment before erupting into cheers.

“The Commander has returned!”

“Uncle!”

Xiao Jue… had returned?

He Yan looked over, her vision already blurred, barely able to see clearly.

Xiao Jue pulled her up from the ground. He Yan, drained of strength, leaned weakly against him. Xiao Jue supported her by the waist, and as if sensing something, he looked down.

The black-clad youth in martial attire appeared only weak, with no visible wounds. Yet, the hand supporting He Yan’s waist now felt a damp patch.

His hand was covered in blood.

He paused slightly, slowly turning his gaze to Rida Muzi, though his words were directed at He Yan, his tone as mocking as ever: “Why is it that every time I run into you, you manage to get yourself into such a miserable state?”

“…”

He Yan smiled faintly and said softly, “Perhaps it is because I always know you will come to save me.”