Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Vanguards Who Court Death

Page 1 of 3

Night, the hour of the Ox, three quarters past, within the inner courtyard of the Guo residence.

The chill of night could not conceal the sorrow of bygone days; the bright moonlight could not piece together the image of the one who haunts his thoughts; the desolate winter wind could not dispel the pain in his heart. Firelight and darkness merged into one, silence and heartache became indistinguishable, and when a gust of wind passed, it felt as if a knife sliced through his soul.

General Yue ought to have accompanied the lord to Luoyang, so why has he returned ahead of time to Youzhou? Could it be that some earth-shattering event, unknown to others, has taken place in Luoyang, prompting the lord to send you back... Guo Jia raised his teacup, gently sipped, then gripped the cup tightly without setting it down, a trace of melancholy flickering in his gaze as he looked to Yue Feng.

“There has been no major incident in Luoyang; all is well. The lord sent me ahead to seek you out because he wishes you to provide some funds—to weave a network of intelligence…” Yue Feng replied, exhaustion etched across his face.

And how could he not be weary? These past few days, in his haste to return to Youzhou and because of the secret he harbored, he had ridden through the night, drenched by relentless rain. If not for his robust constitution, any common man would have perished from cold in the desolate wilds...

“That is a relief,” Guo Jia sighed, finally setting aside his worries.

“Now, the strength of our Youzhou force is growing rapidly before our eyes: the armory is well stocked, the army’s numbers have expanded greatly, the city’s granaries and coffers are full… It is indeed time to build a network of our own. With that, we shall become truly formidable—my lord is as clever as ever. Why did I not think of this myself?” Guo Jia spoke with a faint, self-deprecating smile.

“Then, General Yue, I leave the establishment of this intelligence network in your hands. May you succeed swiftly. As for funds, have no concern—whatever you require, simply ask and it shall be provided.”

“Very well. If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave now, lest my absence arouse suspicion. I wonder, in the day I have been away, how those little rascals are faring in their training—has anyone tried to run off? Ah…” Yue Feng’s expression was calm and detached.

Training deathsworn and building an intelligence network, all assigned to him alone—he could not possibly oversee every detail. Having been absent for some time, it was not impossible that someone had slipped away in secret.

“Training deathsworn must be carried out in utter secrecy, and must be exceedingly harsh, with brutal elimination. Those who pass are to be stripped of all sentiment, becoming pure instruments of killing, yet absolutely loyal. As the saying goes, the more tears shed in training, the less blood spilt on the battlefield,” Guo Jia said, his tone grave.

“I understand. I will fulfill the lord’s command, you have my word.”

Page 2 of 3

The next night, at the hour of the Boar…

At the furthest edge of the sky, a blood-red mist loomed, suspended in the cold, ink-like darkness. The wind howled like a beast raising its head to roar at the fallen moon, with not a single star in sight. Amid the ruins lay a courtyard, its boundaries overgrown with wild grass, as though the slightest breeze might topple it at any moment. The buildings within were in tatters, clearly abandoned for a long time.

Yet the inner yard was in much better order, evidence of recent care. On a large open ground within, several hundred children stood. They ranged in age, their faces still bearing the innocence of youth, yet their eyes brimmed with a yearning for life. They stood in neat lines, ten to a row. Before them stood a young man, his posture upright and heroic, a cold light gleaming in his eyes that echoed the brilliance of the sword he held. In every stride, there was a heaviness and valor that could not be put into words.

The children’s eyes shone with deep respect and gratitude, for each had been purchased by Yue Feng at great cost from the hands of slavers. Under those men, they had never enough to eat or warm clothes to wear, often going hungry, beaten and abused, treated worse than animals. Sometimes, violence was their only gift.

But since Yue Feng brought them here, he had bought them new clothes, ensured they were well fed, and sometimes even gave them meat. They had beds to sleep on, clothing for warmth—luxuries they had only dreamed of. Meat, that distant extravagance, many had never tasted in their lives. For this, they were filled with gratitude, and during Yue Feng’s days away, not a single child had tried to flee.

The promise of meat alone was enough to excite them. In these chaotic times, even filling one’s belly was a challenge, let alone having meat to eat—this was the height of fortune.

Yue Feng’s expression grew solemn, tinged with difficulty as he faced the children’s tender faces, but soon his voice turned stern and cold. “Do you know what a deathsworn is?”

His voice was not loud, but its resolve was unshakable. The children looked at each other and shook their heads. Seeing this, Yue Feng continued, “Deathsworn, as the name suggests, are those who carry out special missions, willing to pay any price for the task, even their lives. They must be strong, with an iron sense of secrecy. Even if captured, they must never betray their lord. If I were to order you to die now, you must obey and carry out my command. Do you understand?”

“We understand…”

“We understand…”

“As the saying goes, when there is a sword in your hand, you advance with the sword; when there is no sword, you advance forgetting the sword. The deathsworn is a blade drawn from its sheath—do you understand?”

“From today, you will undergo the harshest training, facing brutal elimination. I will teach you techniques and skills for combat—simple but deadly, every move meant to kill. Whenever you go on a mission, you must be prepared to die, to charge into battle like a tiger among wolves, cutting down the enemy with a roar.”

Page 3 of 3

“Next, I will subject you to the most grueling training. At any moment, you must be ready to complete your tasks, or you will go hungry—do you hear? And from today on, you will call me General—is that clear?”

“Yes!”

At the mention of food, the children appeared as if infused with energy, their earlier lethargy replaced by a rare, spirited shout.

Yue Feng then produced the manual for the “Longevity Technique,” a martial arts tome given by Zifan, and began to teach the Ironblood Guards.

Though the “Longevity Technique” was not a profound art, it was exceedingly practical. It was devoid of flashy movements, every technique devised to kill, suitable for taking lives swiftly and silently.

“An untrained force cannot withstand a hundred. A trained one—one can resist a hundred.” He honed the children’s combat and survival skills under field conditions, deliberately subjecting them to the harshest “beast camp” training in wilderness and forest. They washed in snow, skied bare-chested, dined and slept in the open in bitter cold. A pride of sheep led by a lion will defeat a pride of lions led by a sheep.

Every morning, they ran ten kilometers with heavy loads, did a thousand pushups and five hundred sit-ups, then ran another ten kilometers at dusk, always pushing their limits.

Each day, the children gritted their teeth and completed every task, collapsing in exhaustion but never once complaining.

Ready to fight when called, and victorious when they fight—this is what it means to be deathsworn.