Chapter 22 – Past Life: A Wandering Soul Watches the Prince of Qi

The original body and Wu Dalang had only trained for just over two months before being sent to the battlefield. As part of the vanguard, they fought their way through city defenses en route directly toward the capital.

Their bodies had somewhat recovered during their time in the military camp—one was thirty-two, the other just turned twenty-two, both in their prime.

So, at first, when the fighting started, they sustained at most minor injuries. But the battlefield is cruel; swords and blades are difficult to guard against forever.

Wu Dalang was the first to die. His thigh and forearm were chopped off—he died in excruciating pain.

Before his death, he tightly gripped He Yanxin’s hand. His whole body was numb, and he could no longer speak.

But He Yanxin understood—he was being asked to take care of his parents, wife, and children.

Watching the elder brother who had played with him since childhood breathe his last, he couldn’t even give him a proper burial.

The Prince of Qi had only managed to gather 160,000 soldiers. He knew full well he couldn’t win a prolonged war with the imperial court—it would be a sure defeat.

So he planned to take advantage of the court’s unpreparedness and capture Yizhou, the region between Qizhou and the capital, and then march straight into the capital.

As the vanguard, they kept advancing without pause toward the capital, carving a direct path through for the forces behind them.

They only gathered usable weapons and supplies from the battlefield, then received orders from above to continue pressing forward.

He Yanxin pretended to be collecting weapons while desperately trying to find Wu Dalang’s leg and severed arm—but there were just too many such remains scattered around.

Seven days later, they encountered the Duke of Zhenguo, who had brought 80,000 elite soldiers to suppress the rebellion.

That battle was unimaginably brutal. It clearly demonstrated the vast gap between their ragtag militia and the court’s professional troops.

He Yanxin died as well—his head separated from his body. In the moment of death, the only thought in his mind was of his wife far away in Anshan Village.

He couldn’t imagine how a woman without her husband would manage to raise two children alone.

But then He Yanxin discovered, to his astonishment, that he could still stand up.

Looking at his own dirty corpse on the ground, and feeling that he could not touch anything physical…

What was this? Had he become a ghost?

He Yanxin floated forward, attempting to speak to people. But no one responded. No one heard his voice.

So many corpses lay across the ground, but only he had become a wandering soul.

Out of 60,000 vanguard troops, barely over 10,000 defeated and battered survivors limped back to Qizhou. Meanwhile, imperial court casualties didn’t even reach 10,000.

He Yanxin hovered near them, following along on the return journey. Along the way, he tried many things, even checking other places to see if anyone else had become like him.

But by the time they returned to Qizhou, he regretfully confirmed: it seemed he was the only one. No one else could see him.

Still, he was quite happy—at least now he could go home and see his wife.

Because he could float, he arrived within Qizhou territory even faster than the returning soldiers.

But before heading home, he wanted to see the Prince of Qi—the man for whom he had given his life.

As low-ranking soldiers, people like him would never have had the chance to meet such a figure.

Now unbound by physical limitations, he floated directly into the heavily guarded prince’s manor.

But the war report had clearly beaten him there.

When he entered, the Prince of Qi was in his study, furious—this defeat had truly humiliated him. Not even halfway to the capital, his army had been crushed.

And the enemy only had 20,000 more men—yet his side had suffered such heavy losses. How could he accept that?

The Prince of Qi sat atop a throne-like dragon chair. Below him stood his aides and retainers.

His expression was beyond grim. He slammed the table and shouted, “Where is that old bastard Jiang Yuancheng now?”

A scout knelt on the ground, trembling, and replied, “He’s only 220 li from Juluguan Pass.”

Juluguan Pass was closer to the capital than other passes. If the enemy tried to take a detour, it would be too far—so they would definitely pass through this gateway.

And the distance from Qizhou’s capital city to Juluguan Pass was only 60 to 70 li. In other words, if the pass fell, the enemy could march directly on the capital.

The Prince of Qi’s heart trembled.

Although he referred to Jiang Yuancheng by name here, in the capital, the person he feared most was indeed this over-50-year-old war hero of Da’an.

The prince liked to indulge in luxury, which Jiang Yuancheng, a man of strict integrity, despised. Every time they met, the old man would glare at him and lecture him in a booming voice.

This made the prince not only fearful but also extremely annoyed. He had even tried complaining to his father, the emperor—but to no avail.

After reaching adulthood, the prince became even more arrogant, living in decadence daily. Jiang Yuancheng stopped lecturing him directly and began submitting memorials at court.

Though the prince only held a nominal position in the Ministry of Works and barely showed up once a year, all imperial sons were expected to participate in governance.

Most of Jiang’s memorials were suppressed by the emperor, but not all.

Once, Jiang joined other ministers in formally accusing the prince of living in luxury, neglecting governance, frequenting brothels, abducting women, and killing servants without cause.

As a result, the prince was docked two years of salary and placed under house arrest for six months.

Though the salary meant little to him, the six-month confinement hit him hard.

It was a decisive time in the power struggle for the throne. By the time he was released, the crown prince had already been chosen. He himself was hastily made Prince of Qi by imperial decree and sent to Qizhou.

If earlier he felt fear and annoyance, now it was both fear and hatred. That incident was the biggest humiliation of his life.

Even after being made a prince, Jiang Yuancheng never stopped criticizing him. Later, Jiang’s memorials accused him of ignoring drought and famine, showing no virtue or compassion.

The prince’s spies in the capital reported that after learning of his “cleansing of the emperor’s side,” Jiang had declared in court, “A traitor must be punished. I will rebel myself,” and formally requested to take up arms.

If the prince hadn’t known he was the one who triggered this rebellion, he might’ve thought it was his virtuous third brother sending someone to humiliate him on purpose.

After all, it was no small feat to suppress six brothers and become crown prince. He had suffered plenty at his hands in the past.

He clenched his teeth, nearly ready to abandon the city and retreat.

“Your Highness, the most urgent task now is to deploy soldiers and secure Juluguan Pass!”

A pale young man in a black cloak stood up, clearly frail.

He was about to kneel when the Prince of Qi quickly stepped forward to stop him.

A mustached man nearby exchanged glances with his companions and echoed agreement. They all knelt down together.

But even after kneeling so properly, no one helped them up.

Since the prince didn’t tell them to rise, they had to stay kneeling. The mustached man lowered his head and narrowed his eyes as he stared at the corner of the black cloak.

“Enough! I never said I was retreating.” The Prince of Qi frowned anxiously.

He knew the pass must be defended. But how many in this world dared face the battle-hardened Duke Jiang?

“Zijin, I appoint you as the commander of defense.”

This meant the man named Zijin had been promoted from mere retainer to official military post.

“You and Di Fugen will lead two battalions immediately to Juluguan Pass.” The prince hesitated briefly, glanced at those kneeling, and made his decision.

“You must hold it!” he said firmly, gripping Zijin’s shoulder.

“Cough…” The pale man suppressed a cough, his face flushed red.

“I swear I will not fail!” He raised both hands and bowed deeply.

The mustached man followed suit.

He Yanxin had been observing quietly and realized that the so-called Prince of Qi, other than having good looks, was just an ordinary man. At only twenty-seven, he already had a protruding belly.

But the man named Zijin caught his attention. He looked very familiar—but He Yanxin couldn’t quite recall from where.

Not bothering to see what happened next, he floated off toward his home.

(End of chapter)