The Sickly Regent Prince Who Was Abandoned as a Substitute Bride

Chapter 620

After walking for about half a cup of tea's time, a sliver of light suddenly appeared ahead. At first, it looked like a firefly in the distance, then gradually turned into a hazy halo, and finally became dazzling.

Some people couldn't help but cheer, but Zhao Xuan raised his hand to stop them—the closer they got to the exit, the more they had to be wary of ambushes. He gestured for everyone to slow down, and he led the way with his sword in hand. When his fingertips touched the vines at the end of the side path, he could feel the warmth of the sunlight filtering through the leaves onto his hands.

"go out!"

As everyone emerged one by one from the vine-covered cave entrance, the midday sun pierced their eyes like sharp swords. Zhao Xuan was the last to step out, his feet landing on the soft grass. Looking back, he saw a steep mountain wall behind him, the vine-covered exit hidden in dense bushes, almost invisible without close inspection. In the distance, smoke was still rising from the collapsed ravine, the boulder that had once concealed the secret passage's entrance now cracked open with several deep fissures, resembling the gaping maw of a monstrous beast.

He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight, squinting at the ruins. The scene of his struggle with the scarred man in black in the secret passage suddenly flashed into his mind—the snake tattoo on the man's wrist, the backhand strike he habitually used when wielding his knife, and the cold laugh before his death, "You think this is over?" Every detail pierced his heart like needles. Lieutenant Wang appeared beside him at some point, handing him a piece of dry rations: "General, we need to get back to camp as soon as possible. This matter is probably not so simple."

Zhao Xuan took a bite of his dry rations, the coarse wheat grains making his gums ache. The wind blew from the mountain valley, carrying the scent of dust across his cheeks. He suddenly remembered the half-struck token he had found in the scarred man's arms, the wolf head pattern engraved on it exactly the same as the mark left by the grain transport team that disappeared at the border three years ago.

"Investigate," Zhao Xuan's voice was as cold as ice in a mountain stream. "Start by investigating Scarface's identity, and also the builder of that secret passage. Dig three feet into the ground to find out the truth."

Deep in the mountain hollow, the scarred man in black, buried under rubble, was long since lifeless. But no one knew that the bloodstained carrier pigeon leg ring in his sleeve swayed gently with each falling rock. The pigeon had already flown far away, while the secret letter, sealed in a hidden compartment of the secret passage, now lay on the desk of some nobleman, its ink still wet, concealing a conspiracy powerful enough to shake the world.

The sunlight grew brighter, illuminating Zhao Xuan's tense profile and stretching the heavy expression in his eyes. He knew that from the moment he stepped out of the secret passage, an even greater storm was just beginning to brew.

As dusk settled, the setting sun, like blood, spilled across the rugged mountain path. Dust kicked up by horses mingled with the stench of blood in the evening breeze, congealing into mottled marks on Zhao Xuan's armor. He reined in his horse, "Snowwalker," which pawed restlessly, its nostrils exhaling white breath that instantly dissipated in the cool air. Behind him, the warhorses of his thirty-odd personal guards were also drenched in sweat, their heavy breathing as labored as bellows amidst the clanging of metal armor plates.

"Speed ​​up! We must reach the camp within half an hour!" Zhao Xuan's voice, chilling, crashed down behind him. He wiped the blood from his forehead, his fingertips touching a newly formed wound on his brow bone, where the cold touch of the secret passage's rock walls still lingered. Just three hours ago, they had ambushed a group of men in black in that dark tunnel, the sparks from clashing blades their only source of light. Now, he clutched the half of the bronze token engraved with the black bird pattern tightly in his palm, its sharp edges almost digging into his flesh.

When the large banner embroidered with the words "Zhenbei" finally came into view, the sentries at the camp gate could hardly believe their eyes—General Zhao had only led his personal guards out to scout the terrain that morning, yet he returned exuding an aura of slaughter, his battle robe still stained with damp, dark red blood. The drawbridge creaked as it slowly lowered, and Zhao Xuan charged across the moat, the resounding hooves on the flagstones startling the entire camp. The patrolling soldiers stopped in their tracks, watching their general head straight for the central command tent, the icicles on his armor gleaming coldly in the torchlight.

"Issue my order: all officers of the rank of colonel and above, assemble in the main tent within fifteen minutes for a meeting!" Zhao Xuan had just lifted the curtain when the candlelight inside flickered violently in the cold wind he brought in. He slammed the half-strike token onto the table; the crisp sound of bronze striking hardwood made the guards who followed instinctively hold their breath. The guard captain, Zhang Meng, was about to inquire about the injuries when Zhao Xuan waved his hand to interrupt: "Prepare hot water first. We'll discuss the rest when the generals arrive."

A quarter of an hour later, the central command tent was filled with generals clad in armor. Ten bronze candlesticks cast shadows on the tent wall, flickering like ghosts in the candlelight. The old general Li Su stroked his white beard, his gaze falling on the half-strike token on the table. A hint of surprise flashed in his cloudy eyes—the black bird pattern was the private seal of a member of the royal family, something no ordinary general could possibly possess.

"Gentlemen," Zhao Xuan's voice broke the silence. He untied his battle robe, revealing the bandage on his left arm, where a black-clad man's dagger had slashed his wound. "This morning at Chenshi (7-9 AM), while I was scouting the terrain of the Western Mountains with my personal guards, I unexpectedly discovered a secret passage. The passage was about three li deep, leading to an abandoned granary. There, we encountered an ambush set up by more than twenty black-clad men." He paused, his fingertip tracing the broken edge of the token. "These men were ruthless, their moves deadly. What's even more bizarre is that the leader had this half of the token hanging from his waist. I personally beheaded him, and his body has been brought back to camp. You can examine it closely—the scar extends from the corner of his eye to his jaw; it's definitely not the appearance of a Northern Di person."

A collective gasp filled the tent. Young and impetuous, Captain Wang clenched his fist tightly: "General, you mean... these people are..."

“It might not be a spy from the Northern Barbarians.” Li Su’s aged voice was heavy. He stepped forward, picked up the token, and ran his fingertips along the patterns on it. “The black bird pattern with cloud and thunder border—this is the private seal of Prince Chang, who was deposed ten years ago. Back then, Prince Chang was executed for treason, and all his personal belongings in the mansion were destroyed. How could it be here?”

Zhao Xuan nodded, his gaze sweeping over the generals in the tent: "What's even more suspicious is the direction of the secret passage—that tunnel leads directly to the underground of our army's left-wing granary. If it hadn't been discovered by chance today, the enemy would probably have already figured out our army's food and supplies deployment." He paused, his voice suddenly turning deep, "Moreover, the swordsmanship of those men in black bears obvious traces of the Imperial Guard."

"The Imperial Guards?" someone whispered. The air in the tent seemed to freeze instantly, and even the candlelight flickered slowly, as if frozen by those two words. Everyone knew that the Imperial Guards were directly under the jurisdiction of the capital's garrison, and ordinary people could never mobilize them—unless they were powerful figures in the court.

Li Su put down the token, his brows furrowed: "General, there are likely powerful figures in the court behind this. We must proceed with caution. Although Prince Chang is dead, his former subordinates are scattered throughout the land. If someone uses his name to secretly collude with the Northern Di..."

“General Li is absolutely right.” Zhao Xuan took over the conversation, his palm slowly clenching on the table. “Captain Wang.”

"Your subordinate is here!" Captain Wang stepped forward, clasped his hands in salute.

"Take ten trusted men, change into civilian clothes, and infiltrate the nearby towns," Zhao Xuan said in a very low voice. "Focus on investigating the identity of that scarred man in black—he has a pierced left earlobe and a cinnabar mole behind his ear, which is a feature I noticed during the fight. Also, investigate any suspicious persons who have come from the capital in the past three months, especially those who have connections with the former subordinates of the Prince Chang's mansion."

"The last general takes command!"

"The rest of you," Zhao Xuan said, turning his gaze to the others, "strengthen the security of the military camp, especially the granaries and armories. Triple the number of patrol troops, and require two people to exchange secret signals when changing shifts at night. From today onwards, everyone entering or leaving the camp must show two tokens, even the cooks who bring food will be carefully checked."

The generals responded in unison and departed to carry out their orders. When only Zhao Xuan and Li Su remained in the tent, the candlelight finally flickered again, casting long shadows of the two men. Li Su looked at Zhao Xuan's tense profile and said softly, "General, you already have a plan in mind?"

“Hmm.” Zhao Xuan gazed at the pitch-black night outside the tent. “If the former subordinates of the Prince of Chang were to rebel, they would certainly need the cooperation of the Northern Di. Currently, the main force of the Northern Di is stationed at Langshan, thirty miles away, but they have remained inactive for the past few days. They are probably waiting for news from an inside agent.” He turned around, picked up the map, and pointed to the position of the left flank defense line. “I suspect that they want to first use a small group of enemy troops to confuse our army, and then take the opportunity to launch a surprise attack on the granary through a secret passage.”

At that very moment, a thousand miles away in the capital, the candlelight in a side hall of the Zichen Palace illuminated a sinister face. Liu Yan, the son of Prince Chang—now known as "Young Master Liu"—was holding a secret letter close to the candlelight. The edges of the letter curled and burned to ashes, but the smile on his lips was as cold as a viper's hiss.

“Zhao Xuan, Zhao Xuan,” he murmured, his fingertips twirling another token engraved with a black bird pattern—the same half that Zhao Xuan held. “You think you can rest easy after killing one of my assassins? That secret passage was just the first appetizer I prepared for you.”

Outside the window, the hooting of owls echoed from the shadows of the palace walls. Liu Yan tucked the token into his robes, rose, and walked to the window. Moonlight streamed through the windowpanes, illuminating his magnificent brocade robe, the gold-embroidered python pattern appearing and disappearing in the darkness. "Pass down the order," he said, "to have the Northern Barbarians proceed according to the original plan—first send small groups to harass them, forcing Zhao Xuan to divide his forces. Once a gap appears in his left flank, have the former troops of the Prince of Chang launch an attack through the secret passage."

The man in the shadows obeyed and retreated. Liu Yan looked at the waning moon on the horizon, a ruthless glint in his eyes: "I will make Zhao Xuan pay for my father's death with the entire Zhenbei Army. This show has only just begun."

Meanwhile, at the Zhenbei Army camp, Zhao Xuan was unaware that the conspiracy in the capital had spread like a spiderweb. After seeing Li Su off, he stood alone before the map, his fingertips repeatedly tracing the outline of Wolf Mountain. The oil lamp on the table burned to its last flame, the wick popping softly, before he came back to his senses, rubbing his throbbing temples—Captain Wang's investigation needed time, but the movements of the Northern Barbarians waited for no one.

"Report—" Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps came from outside the tent, followed by the crisp sound of armor being put to kneel. "General! About fifty Northern Di cavalrymen have been spotted wandering about ten miles to the northwest, seemingly scouting our army's defenses!"

Zhao Xuan suddenly looked up, his eyes flashing with a sharp glint. He grabbed the sword from the table, the sound of the scabbard striking the ground startling the candlelight. "Fifty men?" he sneered, striding out. "Looks like they can't wait any longer."

The guards quickly assembled, their armor gleaming in the torchlight. Zhao Xuan mounted his horse, "Treading Snow," this time without agitation, its hooves moving steadily, as if sensing its master's resolute heart. He gazed at the dark northwest night, where the faint sound of hooves carried on the wind was like the grinding teeth of a wild beast.

"Order the left wing battalion to strengthen its defenses and not to engage in battle lightly." Zhao Xuan's voice carried on the night wind, with an unquestionable authority. "The rest of the battalions shall remain silent. No one is allowed to make any move without my order."

He knew that these fifty cavalrymen were merely a probe, bait thrown out by the enemy. The real killing move might be hidden in the shadows of the secret passage, or concealed in the memorials submitted to the emperor in the capital, or perhaps, it would appear before the next dawn. The cold wind swirled snowflakes across his cheeks, and Zhao Xuan gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force—whoever was manipulating this conspiracy, he had to defend this land.

A faint glimmer of dawn appeared on the distant horizon, and from the direction of Wolf Mountain, the whistles of the Northern Di cavalry could be faintly heard. Zhao Xuan took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs, but it only made his gaze more resolute.

A fierce battle is imminent.

The darkness before dawn is the thickest. The soles of Zhao Xuan's boots had just touched the bluestone slabs in front of the central command tent when a piercing clang of metal exploded in his ears. The sound was not the ordinary clash of armor during a change of guard, but a mixture of muffled thuds of weapons entering flesh, soldiers' roars, and some kind of eerie whistle, like a poisoned awl stabbing fiercely into the silent military camp.

"What's going on?" Zhao Xuan abruptly turned his horse around, and his steed "Ta Xue" reared up, its forehooves leaving two afterimages in the morning mist. He raised his hand to the sword at his waist, his gaze sweeping like a hawk towards the camp gate—the place that should have been the first to be illuminated by the dawn, but now a crimson fire was rising, thick smoke carrying the smell of burning billowing up, turning the pale white sky into a dirty grayish-purple.

"General! It's the camp gate!" Captain Zhang Meng's voice was filled with panic. He pointed to the brightest part of the fire, where several dark figures were stepping over the corpses of soldiers to scale the camp wall. Their black cloaks billowed in the firelight, like a swarm of bats pouncing on their prey. "They're wearing... they're wearing black!"

Zhao Xuan's heart sank suddenly; the stench of blood from the secret passage last night seemed to rise to his nose again. He remembered the movements of those men in black clearly—swift as ghosts, every strike aimed at vital points—and the sounds of battle at the camp gate now carried the same ruthlessness. He turned sharply to the darkness of the northwest, where Captain Wang should have been leading reinforcements, but now only the wind whipped sand across the wasteland, not a trace of human presence to be seen.

"We've fallen into a trap!" These three words struck Zhao Xuan like ice cubes between his teeth. He instantly understood the situation—those fifty Northern Di cavalrymen weren't there to scout, but were bait! The real killing move was hidden inside the camp!