Chapter 220

Chapter 220

The Eighth Prince's coup and regicide, colluding with the state of Qi, Emperor Taixuan's sudden death, and the capital falling in a single night—none of this was something Han Zhang had ever seen coming.

In his view, whatever faults Emperor Taixuan might have had in other areas, in governing and managing the court's power plays, he could genuinely be called outstanding.

And the princes fighting for the throne, no matter how ruthless and unscrupulous they were, how could they be stupid enough to collude with the enemy and tear down their own walls?

After all, what was the Qi State's national strength, and what kind of a player the Qi Emperor was? The common folk might not know, but these princes who coveted the throne—surely they understood perfectly well?

Skinning a tiger and expecting to survive? How was that any different from suicide?

Han Zhang couldn't wrap his head around it, and Old General Shao and the other officers were even more baffled:

"What the hell is going on in the capital? How could the Eighth Prince betray his country? The Eighth Prince was always the most timid, cowardly, and scared of his own shadow—how could he do something so infamous that he'd be cursed for ten thousand generations?"

The messenger replied with a mournful face: "They say... it's because of the Eighth Prince's background..."

The truth was simple: the Eighth Prince was actually the Noble Consort's son and should have been the Seventh Prince, while the Seventh Prince was just the son of a palace maid.

Back then, the Seventh Prince's birth mother, harboring a deep grudge against the Noble Consort over old grievances and scheming to secure a bright future for her own son, bribed the Noble Consort's most trusted maid—who happened to be her own elder sister—to secretly swap the babies.

Afterward, driven by hatred, that maid didn't treat the Eighth Prince well either, abusing and crushing him from childhood, which made him timid on the outside but dark and brooding on the inside.

When the Eighth Prince accidentally learned the truth and ran joyfully to his real mother, the Noble Consort, for help, her reaction hit him even harder!

Just because the Seventh Prince was more accomplished and had married a niece from the Noble Consort's own family, both the Noble Consort and her family chose to abandon the Eighth Prince, their own flesh and blood.

And Emperor Taixuan knew all of this—and chose to let it slide.

The reason was the same: the Eighth Prince was already a lost cause. Since both were his own sons, the swap didn't matter to him as a father.

So the Eighth Prince became a discarded pawn, his resentment and bitterness noticed by no one.

On top of that, the Eighth Prince's health had long been destroyed by his foster mother's abuse. After marriage, he had no children and wasn't expected to live past forty...

So, having completely lost all hope, the Eighth Prince finally chose to betray his country.

He wanted nothing but revenge!

Since both his birth mother and foster mother had tossed him aside like trash for wealth and glory, since his father had chosen to look the other way to keep the peace, since none of these people gave a damn about his grievances and hatred—

Then he would destroy everything they loved and owned!

His father wanted to be a sage emperor remembered for ages? He'd make him a king of a fallen nation instead, too ashamed to face his ancestors after death!

His birth mother and foster mother hoped that impostor would take the throne and carry on the family's glory? Then let the Zhao State collapse and turn all their years of scheming into nothing!

And as for himself?

Being cursed in the history books for ten thousand generations—what did he have to fear?

He was already a pile of mud—why should he care if the sky fell after he was gone?

In short, with an Eighth Prince like that—completely hopeless, his heart filled with nothing but hatred—serving as an inside man, it was no surprise that the Qi army marched straight to the capital's gates...

"The Emperor was a fool!"

After hearing the whole story, Old General Shao's eyes went bloodshot. He clenched his fist, pounded his chest hard, and let out a heart-wrenching cry to the heavens.

Though he had grudges against the Zhao Imperial Clan and had already jumped on Han Zhang's rebel ship, his heart still ached for the common folks caught in the war!

Han Zhang's feelings were just as complicated.

To be fair, Emperor Taixuan's ability to govern was beyond question—the Zhao State's growing prosperity since he took the throne was proof enough.

But maybe because Emperor Taixuan had humble origins, was never valued by the previous emperor, and never got a proper education, his judgment on certain matters was seriously flawed.

As for himself... ahem, he had to admit he wasn't exactly a model subject.

Even if he hadn't rebelled, he'd probably have ended up like Cao Cao, turning the Zhao royal family into puppets.

But with the Eighth Prince—if Emperor Taixuan had shown a little less calculation and a little more care, the guy might never have gone this far.

In the end... the Zhao family just couldn't hold on to this realm!

Han Zhang barely held back the corners of his mouth from curling up, then stepped forward with a look of worry, pain, and righteous fury:

"Old General, these princes are truly cold-blooded! For power and profit, they'd willingly let wolves in through the door, throwing the people of the realm into fire and water!"

"Born in the deep palace, dressed in silk and fed fine food, living off the people's labor, yet all they know is jealousy and backstabbing—do they really give a damn about the common folks' lives?"

"And the Emperor! He knew the truth all along, but for the sake of so-called 'balance,' he watched his own son fall into the abyss! That's not imperial wisdom—that's treating the realm like a game!"

"And now look! The Qi iron cavalry marches south, and the land is devastated! How many cities in the south have been reduced to ashes, how many people left homeless and wandering? And all of this—merely because of the personal grudges of a few royal scions!"

Han Zhang's chest heaved violently, his voice hoarse from extreme fury:

"And now! The capital has fallen, the royal family abandoned the people and fled east, retreating to Haizhou, and they send a decree demanding we return to 'protect the throne'? Utterly absurd!"

"The northern frontier is in a turbulent period right now, with the grassland barbarians eyeing us hungrily! If we lead the main army south, the northern gateway will be left wide open, and the barbarian cavalry will surely seize the opportunity to invade! And then what of the people of the northern border?"

"We who don armor and bear arms, guarding the frontier, shedding blood and risking our lives—is it to protect such a benighted, incompetent, people-trampling imperial authority? No! We fight for this beautiful land, for the countless common folk behind us, and for our families!"

"Old General, for the sake of the northern people, we cannot heed this decree!"

Han Zhang played the part of an indignant young man perfectly, and the surrounding soldiers nodded in agreement.

"Brother Han speaks sense! If we pull our forces to escort the throne at Haizhou, what happens to the northern people?"

"Exactly! The royal family fled in panic without thought of reclaiming lost territory, yet they'd have us abandon the border to protect them? Are the people's lives not lives?"

"Right, right..."

The soldiers were all filled with righteous fury.

If it were truly to save the nation, they'd go without hesitation. But this disaster was entirely the royal family's own doing—to make them abandon the northern peace to protect the throne was infuriating.

Old General Shao had been working with Han Zhang for years and knew exactly what he meant. He immediately put on a loyal-subject act to play along.

He slammed the table in feigned shock and anger: "Outrageous! Han Qinzhang, you... you dare to speak recklessly of the sovereign?! Even if the Emperor and the princes have their faults, the bonds of ruler and subject are the very foundation of the state! Your words—how are they any different from the traitorous Eighth Prince?"

Han Zhang immediately followed up with continued indignation: "Yes, Old General, you speak rightly—the bonds of ruler and subject cannot be violated. But I also know a saying: the people are most important, the state comes next, and the ruler is least!"

"If a ruler brings ruin to the land and scatters the people, then he is a tyrant and a traitor to his own people! As soldiers of the Zhao State, our first duty in donning armor is to protect this vast land and its hundreds of millions of people—not the private interests of one family or one name!"

"If for the sake of a hollow 'loyalty,' we abandon the million souls of the north and let rivers of blood flow, then I, Han, would rather bear eternal infamy than serve such a benighted, incompetent royal house!"

"I second that!" Another middle-aged officer stepped forward as well. "The Emperor is dead, the Crown Prince abandoned the capital's people and fled east in panic, and now they want us to abandon the border's people to come to their rescue? With all due respect, this court is not worth dying for!"

"Right! Not worth it!"

"We won't die for them!"

"Aren't the elders and good people of the northern frontier also subjects of Zhao State?!"

More and more generals stepped forward, rallying behind Han Zhang's declaration.

In truth, it wasn't surprising that everyone felt this way. Over the years, due to the succession struggles, not only had Old General Shao's sons and grandsons been caught in the crossfire and died needlessly and unjustly on the battlefield, but the military pay and supplies here at the frontier were also frequently delayed or reduced because of power struggles among the higher-ups. Resentment had been building up in their hearts for a long time.

Just then.

A general suddenly lurched out of the ranks, and with a heavy thud, knelt before Old General Shao, tears glistening in his fierce, tiger-like eyes as he said, his voice trembling:

"Old General! The Zhao royal house... truly doesn't deserve your unwavering loyalty!"

"Since things have come to this, I, your subordinate, can no longer keep the truth from you about the Young Master. Back then, the reason the Young Master fell into the enemy's trap and died in battle was by no means an accident—it was because several princes were competing to win him over, and when he refused to get involved, they conspired to silence him permanently and put someone in his place!"

"And Colonel Shao Wu, Commander Shao San, and General Shao Liu... through my years of covert investigation as your subordinate, every single one of these incidents is tied to the infighting among those princes!"

The general knocked his forehead against the ground, sobbing so hard he could barely speak: "Old General! They killed your own flesh and blood, and now they want you, an elder, to bear the shame of abandoning the northern people. Such a royal house—cold, ungrateful, destroying its own defenses—do you truly... still wish to return and protect the ruler who abandoned his people?!"

"What? You... what did you say?!" Old General Shao's body gave a violent lurch, all color draining from his face in an instant, his eyes filled with disbelief and utter devastation. "How could this be... my son... my grandson... Pah—!"

Before he could finish, a mouthful of bright red blood burst from his mouth, staining the table in front of him and his graying beard.

The old general's eyes shut, and he toppled stiffly backward.

"Old General! Old General!"

"Quick! Catch him!"

"Medic! Summon the medic at once!"

The tent immediately descended into chaos as the generals rushed forward, scrambling in a flurry to support the unconscious Old General Shao, anxiety and helplessness written all over every face.

The old general was the soul of the northern army. His sudden collapse turned the decision of whether to march to the king's rescue into a hot potato.

"The old general has fainted. What do we do now? Do we move the troops... or not?"

Someone asked in a panic.

Though everyone had already made clear their unwillingness to rescue the throne, when it came down to actually defying the imperial decree and keeping their troops in place, no one dared to step forward and take the lead.

Because the bird that sticks its head out gets shot—the one who leads will be the chief culprit.

If the rescue succeeded, they'd bear the blood, tears, and condemnation of the northern people;

If it failed, the court would surely punish them;

Everyone was in the same bind Han Zhang had been in during the disaster relief in Yunyang—no matter what they chose, the one who took the lead wouldn't end up well.

At this critical moment...

"Since we don't know how to choose, then we won't choose!"

Han Zhang finally stepped forward, showing his true colors, with a look of heroic self-sacrifice, his eyes reddened as he declared with finality:

"Generals, today you received the imperial decree and intended to mobilize troops to rescue the throne. However—I, Han, refuse to accept the court's judgment, and refuse to accept the court's abandonment of the city to flee east. Therefore, I shall lead the tens of thousands of troops of the Military Slave Camp in deserting the camp, heading south to save my family and fight the invaders!"

"Generals, in suppressing the rebellion and repelling the sudden Tatar cavalry raids, you fought fierce battles, suffered heavy casualties, and are too stretched thin to act—therefore... you are simply unable to rescue the throne!"

"Brother Han, you can't!"

"Brother Han, this is a stain on your name!"

"You must not do this!"

Everyone was shaken to the core, staring at Han Zhang in horror.

Brother Han was taking the shame upon himself to preserve everyone else's honor and protect the lives of the northern people!

"Say no more, everyone. This is Han's doing alone! It has nothing to do with any of you! When the old general wakes, please tell him—Han Zhang has led the Military Slave Camp to desert the northern frontier. From here on, the mountains are high and the waters are long—we shall never meet again!"

With that, Han Zhang hesitated no more. He turned with tragic resolve, charged out of the tent, mounted his horse, raised his halberd, and bellowed like a bell:

"Brothers! The neighboring kingdom's iron cavalry has breached the capital and ravaged the south! But what have our crown prince and our court done? They abandoned the city's people, abandoned the vast rivers and mountains, and fled east in cowardice to cling to life!"

"But our husbands and wives, our parents and children, our fellow villagers—they are still there! Still crying and struggling beneath the enemy's blades and hooves! The court doesn't care about them, the emperor doesn't care about them—"

He thrust his halberd southward, nearly roaring: "Are you willing to follow me into battle, to ride south and save our people?!"

"I will! I will!"

"Willing to follow the general into battle! Save our families!"

"Fight our way back!"

At these words, the soldiers of the Military Slave Camp stepped forward first in response.

Most of them were descendants of disgraced officials, prisoners of war, or able-bodied men conscripted due to poverty at home. They had never felt any loyalty to the lofty royal house, only concern and a desire to protect their families.

Now hearing that the south and the capital had fallen, their loved ones suffering, and the court abandoning them—each one's eyes burned with fury as they raised their arms and shouted their allegiance.

Seeing this, Han Zhang choked up and nodded, then raised his halberd to the sky once more, issuing the command with unyielding resolve:

"Good! You are all fine sons of the frontier!"

"By my order—the entire Military Slave Camp, gear up, break camp! Ride south—swearing never to return!"