The Child Emperor-Chapter 245: The Loyal Hound

The Windy Fort was not large, built on a hillside with its back against a cliff. Originally unable to accommodate ten thousand soldiers, Cui Hong had specifically expanded the fort. It was guarded by Zhao Mengli, the Left General of the Southern Army, an old subordinate promoted by Cui Hong who was as loyal as a dog to the Grand Tutor.

“Uncle Zhao took an arrow for my father on the battlefield and lost the use of one arm. It will be difficult to make him surrender the fort. Unless my father orders it, even if the Emperor himself stood here, he wouldn’t open the gates,” Cui Teng shielded his eyes and looked up the mountain. “Uncle Zhao is old and in poor health. If he were to suddenly die, the problem would be solved.”

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For Han Ruzi, speed was everything. The Southern Army behind him was in an uncertain state – if they stopped to think, there was no telling what they might do. And then there was White Bridge Town in the rear – if he couldn’t quickly return with a large number of troops, Cai Xinghai’s small force could never hold off the Grand Tutor Cui’s counterattack.

Cui Sheng had just come down from the mountain, saying with a bitter face: “There’s no way. The old man is more stubborn than an ox – can’t be led or driven. Why don’t we return to White Bridge Town first? Once I convince my father, Zhao Mengli will naturally surrender the fort.”

Han Ruzi turned to look at the endless Southern Army stretching as far as the eye could see. These men were busy marching, but once they stopped, they would have the chance to observe the Weary Marquis and carefully analyze all the rumors about him.

Momentum was crucial, they couldn’t stop at the final moment. Han Ruzi said to Cui Sheng: “I want to meet General Zhao. Lead the way.” To Cui Teng, Chao Hua, and the old general from White Bridge Town, he said: “You three stay here and await my orders.”

Cui Teng preferred to go up the mountain: “Uncle Zhao knows me well, I’ll guide the Weary Marquis.”

“No, you’re not a Southern Army commander,” Han Ruzi insisted on leaving Cui Teng behind, because aside from the small Northern force Chao Hua had brought, the Cui family’s second son was his only trustworthy ally.

Han Ruzi had no other choice. He wasn’t just walking a tightrope – he was more like standing on the crest of a wave, maintaining his balance with extreme caution. Even so, the slightest movement of the waves beneath his feet could still shatter him to pieces.

Cui Sheng led the way, with Han Ruzi following on horseback, accompanied by only one guard.

Meng E, dressed as a Northern Army soldier, stayed close to the Weary Marquis.

From atop the fort gate, the Southern Army’s Left General Zhao Mengli saw Cui Sheng returning. Before he could speak, General Zhao called out: “General Sheng, there’s no use talking more. You should return to White Bridge Town. Tell the Weary Marquis that I am just Grand Tutor Cui’s hound – without my master’s word, this hound won’t move aside.”

Cui Sheng chuckled and pointed to the person beside him: “The Weary Marquis is right here. Uncle Zhao, you can tell him yourself.”

Han Ruzi wore ordinary general’s armor, and Zhao Mengli saw nothing special at first. After looking carefully for a moment, he said, “I’ve already said my piece. The Weary Marquis heard it, didn’t he?”

Han Ruzi nodded and raised his voice: “General Zhao prides himself on being a loyal hound. Well then, let me ask: when a loyal hound sees its master in danger, does it rush to save him, or stay put pretending to be dutifully following orders? If General Zhao doesn’t trust me, you should capture me alive. If you do trust me, then join me in marching to White Bridge Town.”

Zhao Mengli snorted but didn’t answer.

Han Ruzi spread his arms: “I’m right here. If General Zhao truly cares about Grand Tutor Cui’s safety, please open the gates and let me in. Let’s talk face to face.”

Zhao Mengli glanced down the mountain. The Southern Army was gathering but hadn’t formed battle formations and couldn’t launch an assault immediately. At the gate, there were only Cui Sheng, the Weary Marquis, and one guard.

“Open the gates,” Zhao Mengli finally ordered.

As the gates slowly opened and Han Ruzi was about to ride in, Cui Sheng advised from beside him: “Weary Marquis, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Zhao Mengli came up through the ranks and is uneducated. He doesn’t understand proper etiquette or respect for status. When he gets angry, only my father can stop him. He really will kill people.”

Han Ruzi smiled: “No matter how fierce a hound’s nature, it’s still just a hound. What’s there to fear?”

Han Ruzi was actually a bit afraid, which was why he glanced at Meng E before riding into Windy Fort.

Cui Sheng watched the Weary Marquis in surprise, unable to believe this was the same refined youth from before. He followed along – he wasn’t afraid of Zhao Mengli, knowing his life would be safe as long as he didn’t meddle.

Zhao Mengli had come down from the gate tower and stood on the main road with a group of officers and guards. They appeared to be welcoming the Weary Marquis, but all held their swords and spears, standing rather than kneeling.

As the gates slowly closed behind him, Han Ruzi rode until he was within ten paces of Zhao Mengli before stopping, looking down at the old general.

Zhao Mengli looked much older than Grand Tutor Cui, yet was called “Third Uncle” – presumably out of modesty. Some traces remained of his once broad and sturdy build. His face bore three or four scars, and his right arm hung weakly. His sword was thrust directly into the right side of his belt, his left hand gripping it – clearly long accustomed to drawing with his left hand.

Han Ruzi took a couple of glances and saw this was a general who maintained strict military discipline. Despite such major events occurring, there was no disorder in the fort – no one wandered about or whispered among themselves. The dozens of officers and guards around Zhao Mengli moved in perfect unison, either gripping swords or holding spears, watching the Weary Marquis while keeping an eye on their general’s every movement.

They were a pack of dogs controlled by a loyal hound.

Han Ruzi jumped down from his horse and strode up to Zhao Mengli, “I am the newly appointed Northern Army Commander. I have an imperial edict-“

“This has nothing to do with imperial edicts,” Zhao Mengli responded with complete indifference, as if heaven itself could fall. “I only take orders from Grand Tutor Cui. Do you have his written instructions?”

“No, and I know Grand Tutor Cui won’t be sending any more written instructions.”

Zhao Mengli fixed the Weary Marquis with a sinister gaze, waiting for the young man’s next move.

Han Ruzi met his opponent’s gaze and saw deep contempt and ruthlessness. Cui Sheng was right – Zhao Mengli wasn’t afraid to kill, and neither imperial relatives nor imperial edicts meant anything to him.

Grand Tutor Cui had once reclaimed the Southern Army through his efforts alone and had his own methods of employing people. Most of the loyal officers had been taken to the Capital, leaving only Zhao Mengli, who remained extremely difficult to deal with.

Han Ruzi couldn’t maintain silence; he had to continue speaking.

“Grand Tutor Cui led sixty thousand Southern Army troops toward the Capital, thinking he could easily defeat the Eight Palace Guard Camps. He was wrong, terribly wrong. The current Emperor and Empress Dowager have both recovered – the imperial edict I carry is proof. The Eight Palace Guard Camps will defend the city to the death to protect His Majesty and the Empress Dowager. With just sixty thousand Southern Army troops, they won’t be able to break through even in a year.”

Han Ruzi paused, then continued: “Grand General Han Xing has already assembled one hundred thousand troops at Hangu Pass and is heading to the Capital to protect the Emperor. The sixty thousand Southern Army troops will be trapped.”

Cui Sheng, standing to the side, kept nodding – he had already completely believed everything the Weary Marquis had said.

“Moreover, one hundred thousand Northern Army troops are also marching south at this very moment-“

Though the Northern Army was said to be one hundred thousand strong, it actually only had about eighty thousand men. Han Ruzi’s casual statement wasn’t really an exaggeration, but Zhao Mengli gave a cold laugh. “The Weary Marquis certainly knows how to talk.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Does the Weary Marquis think the Southern Army stationed here is just for show? My scouts reach as far as Mancang and report back twice daily. Every move of the Northern Army is within my grasp. They haven’t moved at all.”

“At this very moment,” Han Ruzi insisted without backing down, his face remaining calm as he stepped forward, “your scouts are rushing back desperately.”

“Then we’ll wait for the scouts to return,” Zhao Mengli remained unmoved. Though not particularly tall, he carried himself with immense presence – the kind of cold detachment bred through killing. He seemed completely unconcerned about any threats, appearing indifferent whether the Northern Army had departed or not.

Han Ruzi had hit a hard wall, even tougher than he’d anticipated. He quickly glanced at the other commanders – serving under Zhao Mengli couldn’t be easy. They weren’t even paying attention to what the Weary Marquis was saying, all gripping their weapons tightly, just waiting for an order.

“I’ll wait with you,” Han Ruzi said casually. “There are ten thousand Southern Army troops in the fort, with thirty thousand more coming. Keep me here, and all forty thousand troops will be yours. You could march south to save your master, or north to command the hundred thousand Northern Army troops.”

Zhao Mengli’s expression changed for the first time, his grip on his sword loosening slightly. After pondering for a moment, he asked, “If everything you say is true – which I strongly doubt – you plan to save the Grand Tutor?”

“Grand Tutor Cui’s daughter is my wife,” Han Ruzi said slowly.

“The Grand Tutor has more than one son-in-law,” Zhao Mengli replied.

“Of course, but Grand Tutor Cui only supports the son-in-law who can win – that’s me. And I need him too. With the Southern Army’s help, I can return to the Capital without bloodshed. So I can save Grand Tutor Cui, and he’s willing to be saved by me. We have an unspoken understanding.”

As one of Grand Tutor Cui’s confidants, Zhao Mengli understood something of his master’s thoughts and began to partially believe Han Ruzi’s words. He released his grip on his sword handle. “Then the Weary Marquis can stay. If the situation is truly as you describe-“

“Then it will be too late!” Cui Sheng anxiously interrupted. He had been completely convinced by the Weary Marquis and grew more alarmed as he listened. “Once my father engages the Palace Guard Camps in battle, he’ll be charged with treason, that would be-“

“General Sheng, you should trust your own father,” Zhao Mengli said coldly. “If the situation changes, the Grand Tutor will see it at a glance. Whether to fight or make peace, advance or retreat – he knows what to do. We have no other talents; we just need to guard his base well.”

Zhao Mengli looked Han Ruzi over again. “If the Weary Marquis is truly a good son-in-law to the Cui family, he should also trust the Grand Tutor’s judgment.”

“Of course, that’s why I’m willing to stay in the fort and wait for news with you.” Han Ruzi had no other choice.

Zhao Mengli lowered his left hand, and the commanders released their sword grips while the guards raised their spears, signaling the removal of hostility.

“Please,” Zhao Mengli stepped aside.

“Please,” Han Ruzi responded.

Side by side, they climbed the stone steps toward the main hall at the highest point.

Just as they reached the entrance to the hall, a shout suddenly came from behind: “Scout returning to the fort!”

Han Ruzi’s heart skipped a beat. Zhao Mengli stopped and turned, watching the scout running in through the fort gate. He felt he should say something to the Grand Tutor’s son-in-law, “Weary Marquis, don’t mind me. I’m just a rough soldier who only knows how to fight and nothing else. If-“

Han Ruzi kept nodding, then suddenly wrapped both arms tightly around Zhao Mengli’s healthy left arm.

Zhao Mengli was stunned, unsure if this was a gesture of friendliness or something else. He was surprised by the young Weary Marquis’s unexpectedly strong grip. Sensing something was wrong, he was about to forcefully break free when he felt a sharp pain in his neck, as if something had pierced him.

Meng E knew what the Weary Marquis intended. Instead of drawing her sword, she swung her arm, revealing a dagger that struck precisely at Zhao Mengli’s nape.

The strike was perfectly accurate – even a martial arts master would have died instantly from such a blow, but Zhao Mengli didn’t. He let out a roar, using his left arm to lift the Weary Marquis entirely and turning to slam him into his attacker.

Meng E quickly drew her sword and, in a flash, stabbed Zhao Mengli in the throat.

The Grand Tutor’s “loyal hound” finally fell, with Han Ruzi tumbling down as well, still refusing to release his grip.

Meng E lightly kicked him, and Han Ruzi finally came to his senses, hurriedly standing up. He found himself surrounded by swords and spears, the closest just a few feet away. These men hadn’t attacked yet because they were too shocked, and because Zhao Mengli’s military discipline was so strict – without his order, no one dared move.

Han Ruzi’s gaze passed over the weapons to the scout who had stopped halfway in shock. He dusted himself off, placed one foot on the corpse’s head, and declared:

“Great Chu soldiers to the right, Zhao’s dogs to the left.”

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