Nightwatcher

# 447. Drumbeat

The black-clad woman glanced about warily, then lowered her head and bent her waist to slip into the pitch-black tunnel.

_Whoosh!_

In the darkness, she let out a soft breath. A spark flared, and a small flame quietly began to burn.

The fire striker cast an orange halo of light that drove back the surrounding shadows. Holding the flame aloft, she examined the walls of the tunnel. The marks of manual excavation were unmistakably clear.

Her free hand moved to her waist, where a short blade was tucked.

It slid soundlessly from its sheath. The firelight shimmered on the blade, which was entirely black, absorbing rather than reflecting the glow.

This weapon was called Moya. Forged from blacksteel and the fang of a Shadowscale Beast, it had taken a full month to craft and was one of the Sitianjian’s Song Qing’s proudest creations.

Furthermore, the great formation master Yang Qianhuan had personally engraved it with a magical formation, making it one of the most powerful artefacts beneath true divine weapons.

Moya bore three layers of formation. The first enhanced its sharpness, able to cut through iron as though it were mud. The second strengthened its resilience, tough enough that even a fourth-rank martial artist would struggle to damage it. The third enabled short-range teleportation, silent, traceless, perfect for close-quarters assassination.

She moved forward, fire striker in one hand and Moya reversed in the other.

No traps barred her way. The tunnel wasn’t long; soon, she reached its end: a stone chamber.

The room’s furnishings were sparse. In the centre stood a stone disc like a millstone, about twenty feet across, carved densely with warped runes. Bowls for oil lamps were embedded in the walls.

Beyond that, there was nothing.

Cautiously, the woman circled the room, checking every oil bowl. Each one was dusty, its wick dry. It had been a long time since oil was last added.

They could all be lifted easily; no mechanisms were hidden. Tapping the walls produced a deep thud, no hollows or traps.

Her inspection complete, she approached the stone disc. She tapped and prodded with extreme care, her vigilance unwavering.

A quarter of an hour passed before the fire striker burned out. She lit another.

_Earl Pingyuan’s estate was an imperial grant. Such mansions follow strict architectural and feng-shui rules. In the capital, what spot could be better than one aligned with a dragon ley? That alone suggests the possibility of earth-travelling teleportation._

_Li Miaozhen said earth-travelling is extremely difficult to cultivate, and there’s no way both Earl Pingyuan and King Huai’s spies could’ve mastered it. Which means this disc is the formation for the earth-travelling technique. It requires a special method to activate, after which it’ll transport someone to a designated location. But where? Somewhere in the palace?_

_When Hengyuan stormed the mansion in a rage, Earl Pingyuan surely thought of using this route to flee. But he failed. Perhaps he was killed by Hengyuan just as he opened the secret path…_

_Still, Hengyuan knew nothing else. He couldn’t have guessed too much from a hidden tunnel alone. Nobles often have such passages built. But in... his eyes, it was a fatal flaw. So Hengyuan had to die._

_So far, all my deductions have held. Not a single error. I wonder if Xu Qi’an didn’t think of this, or if he’s simply choosing not to say anything. I always get the feeling he knows more... For example, why does His Majesty purchase people regularly? What’s he doing with those innocent lives?_

The black-clad woman fell into deep thought.

After a long silence, she sighed softly, collected her thoughts, and fixed her gaze on the stone disc. She memorised it, every symbol, every detail, committing it to mind without the slightest error.

Then, fire striker still in hand, she swiftly exited the chamber.

…

Eighteenth of the Sixth Month. Start of Autumn.

After the three rituals, the day of the grand expedition had arrived.

That morning, Wei Yuan led a host of officers on horseback from the main road of the imperial city, heading for the military encampment outside the capital.

“Showing off” was an indispensable part of the process. Whether for imperial examinations or a military campaign, public spectacle was essential. The entire affair had to be grand and widely known.

At the head of a great procession several hundred strong, Wei Yuan rode in his customary azure robes, his hair touched with grey, still refined and handsome.

Just as he had been in years past.

The road was lined with citizens. After so much build-up and official propaganda, they had long accepted the prospect of war and watched in solemn silence.

Within the crowd, a white-haired elder stared intently at the man in azure. Suddenly, tears spilled down his cheeks, and he broke into sobs.

“Dad, what are you crying for?”

The young man beside him looked at him, bewildered.

“It’s Duke Wei... Duke Wei is leading the troops again at last…”

The old man clutched his son’s hand tightly, overcome with sorrow and joy. “When Dad joined the army, it was under Duke Wei’s command to Shanhai Pass, and it was with him I returned. Twenty-one years have passed, yet he’s still the same, only his temples have turned white. I remember... I remember His Majesty standing atop the city wall, personally beating the war drum to send him off.”

_His Majesty beating the drum..._ The son’s eyes went wide in disbelief.

Many elders who had once served in the army saw that azure-robed scholar at the front and recalled the Battle of Shanhai Pass.

They remembered that the Great Feng had once had a god of war. They remembered how, in those days, the man in azure robes had kept the Zhenbei King in check, never allowing him to rise.

Veterans, especially, were moved to tears, struck by emotion, joy and grief mingling in their hearts.

“It’s Duke Wei, it’s Duke Wei…”

“Twenty years. Twenty full years. Finally, he’s leading troops again.”

“I’d almost forgotten the glory of his westward campaign all those years ago. Duke Wei… why did you vanish into the court after Shanhai Pass? Do you know how heartbroken your old comrades were…”

To the younger generation, it was difficult to grasp how brightly this figure in azure once shone.

By the roadside, Xu Pingzhi stood among the law enforcement garrison. Sabre at his waist, he stared in a daze, as if waking from a dream.

“Captain Sir,” a young Yudao guard asked in a low voice, “you fought at Shanhai Pass, didn’t you? Was Duke Wei really that legendary?”

“For those of us from that generation, as long as Duke Wei stands, the army's heart remains firm. He is the kind of man one would willingly die for,” Xu Pingzhi sighed.

“Your generation of young people finds it hard to grasp what we were back then. Still, you’ll come to understand one day... after the war with the Church of the Warlock God.”

“I heard that, back in the Battle of Shanhai Pass, His Majesty personally beat the war drums from atop the city walls?” another Blade Guardian asked.

“That battle determined the fate of the nation—naturally, it was different. This time... there’ll be no such sight,” Xu Pingzhi said with some regret.

Behind Wei Yuan, Jiang Lyuzhong and the other veterans who had once followed Azure Cloak Wei into battle heard the murmurs from the crowd and were pulled back to those days of old.

During the Battle of Shanhai Pass, the entire state’s forces were thrown into the war. His Majesty, clad in dragon robes, had stood on the city walls, beating the drums himself—a glorious moment indeed.

If only His Majesty would beat the drums once more...

Those old veterans felt the same wish stir in their hearts.

But this emperor was no longer the wise and vigorous monarch of those years. Emperor Yuanjing, back then, had been brilliant and martial-minded, diligent in governance, sweeping away the malaise of his predecessor’s reign.

Now, the emperor was obsessed with Daoist cultivation and had neglected state affairs for years.

Things were no longer as they had been.

Atop the walls, the civil officials led by Wang Zhenwen, the military nobles headed by various dukes, and the royal family represented by the Crown Prince lined up in solemn silence, gazing at the grand avenue and the slowly advancing procession.

“I remember, when Wei Yuan marched out to war back then, His Majesty himself climbed the walls to beat the drums. That moment rallied the capital in unity,” Wang Zhenwen said with emotion.

The ministers who had lived through the Battle of Shanhai Pass seemed briefly lost in reminiscence.

“I was wondering why no one is beating the drums... turns out no one qualifies anymore,” muttered the Minister of War with sudden clarity.

Twenty years ago, he had not yet served in the capital, holding post elsewhere.

Upon hearing this, the Crown Prince and the Fourth Prince both looked somewhat tempted. If they could imitate their father’s deed and beat the drums in send-off, it would certainly make them stand out.

But most of the royals only dared to imagine it—they wouldn’t actually do such a thing.

Only two people present truly had the standing for it: the Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace and the Empress’s legitimate son, the Fourth Prince.

At the Crown Prince’s side, Lin’an, dressed in bright red palace robes, pursed her lips and got a little dreamy imagining the scene.

“Father must have looked majestic and unmatched back then…”

How she wished she could see her father beat the war drums again.

Huaiqing too showed a hint of anticipation. What does it mean to shine in the eyes of all? Earning top honours on the imperial exam and parading through the streets was one thing, composing a masterpiece at a poetry meet another. Wei Yuan, at this moment, was certainly such a figure. And back then, when His Majesty stood in dragon robes upon the walls and drummed for the march—that, too, was unforgettable.

The Crown Prince and Fourth Prince both stirred with intent.

“If Father isn’t coming, then I shall beat the drums myself! How can the army march off without anyone to sound the send-off?” the Crown Prince said with excitement.

He knew this might count as overstepping, but it wasn’t a true breach of ritual propriety. At worst, the emperor would be displeased. But the prestige to be gained was considerable.

After weighing the risk, the Crown Prince grew eager.

The Fourth Prince frowned and was about to speak up when Huaiqing sent him a sound-transmitted message: “Fourth Brother, you don’t have the standing.”

The Fourth Prince replied angrily, “Then who does?”

Among the imperial princes, the Fourth Prince was considered outstanding, and he was a seventh-rank martial artist.

Huaiqing shook her head, but did not answer.

“Your Highness!”

Wang Zhenwen stepped forward to block the Crown Prince’s path to the war drums, speaking gently:

“In terms of station, this is inappropriate. It will provoke His Majesty’s displeasure. In terms of reputation, you still lack a little. And in terms of your relationship with Wei Yuan, you also fall short.”

The Crown Prince frowned. “Then who, in the Prime Minister’s view, is qualified?”

Wang Zhenwen’s eyes slid past his shoulder, towards the steps behind, and he smiled. “The one who is qualified... has arrived.”

Everyone turned sharply to look.

A young man, sabre at his waist, was walking slowly towards them. The guards to either side seemed as though facing a great enemy, trembling all over. They tried desperately to draw their sabres, but not a single blade left its sheath.

Huaiqing and Lin’an both lit up.

“Xu Qi’an!”

Among the nobles, someone ground their teeth as they hissed the name.

Xu Qi’an paid them no heed. He simply nodded at Wang Zhenwen, then walked straight towards the war drum.

The Fourth Prince's gaze shifted, but he said nothing.

The Crown Prince stood before the drum, barring the way.

“Brother, quickly, let him pass,” Lin’an shoved at him, clearly taking Xu Qi’an’s side.

In terms of status, he cared not for what the emperor thought. In terms of reputation, the capital hailed and praised him. In terms of his relationship with Wei Yuan—he was more than qualified… The Crown Prince gave a small snort and stepped aside.

Xu Qi’an drew the drumsticks and struck hard.

……

_Boom!_

_Boom boom!_

_Boom boom boom…_

From the city wall came the sound of drums—first a single heavy strike, followed by two more, then a flurry, echoing across the skies like rain.

Everyone, including Wei Yuan, turned their heads to look up at the wall.

Someone was drumming!

“Look—it’s Silver Gong Xu!”

Cries of delight rose from the crowd.

“Silver Gong Xu is beating the drums!”

“He’s drumming to send off the army!”

The people’s excitement soared, they shouted and cheered with unrestrained joy.

Lin’an looked from the citizens below to Xu Qi’an’s upright back, beaming brightly and innocently.

Huaiqing’s lips curved faintly.

Jiang Lyuzhong and the others squinted at the tall, youthful figure upon the wall. The people’s fervent cheers echoed in their ears, and for a moment, they seemed dazed.

Back then, the dragon-robed sovereign had stood atop the wall, drumming for the army, and the people’s cheers had shaken the heavens.

Twenty years had passed in the blink of an eye. The one beating the drum had changed, but the cheers remained the same.

After a moment of silence, they suddenly smiled from the heart.

Wei Yuan raised his head, gazing at the young man on the wall. Within the depths of his weathered eyes, a trace of comfort gleamed.

Twenty years ago, there had been Wei Yuan. Twenty years later, there was Xu Qi’an.

Excellent.

Now, if only there were a poem to accompany this moment.

Wei Yuan threw his head back and laughed aloud. “Xu Qi’an! Have you a parting verse for us?”