Peace Order

Chapter 1911: Chapter 16: Drumming, Advance!

At this moment of reunion, the eyes of these old veterans all turned red. They clasped one another’s arms, yet could barely say a few words before their throats choked up. Pang Shuiyun wiped at the corner of his eyes and said, "Looking like this—if people saw us, wouldn’t they laugh at us?"

"All of you, up, up."

Yuan Shitong and Xue Tianxing said, "How did you get here?"

Pang Shuiyun said, "The Lord has been campaigning against Ying Country for more than ten days now, and three days before the Lord set out, we received the military order. It was just a few of us, galloping all the way to the grasslands. General Ashina was garrisoned there, then we crossed the grasslands and came here."

"The Lord ordered us to await Mr. Wen Qingyu. If the situation changed, we were to advance according to Mr. Wen Qingyu’s strategy."

Only then did Yuan Shitong and Xue Tianxing understand.

Each of these men had at least Sixth Layer Heaven in martial cultivation as their foundation; in over half a month’s time, it was enough for them to reach the grasslands, and then race here together with the army under Ashina.

Yuan Shitong looked at the enormous coffer beside Yan Xuanji and said:

"Yan, what is that?"

Yan Xuanji said, "It is something the Lord bade us bring..."

Under everyone’s gaze, he opened the coffer. Inside was actually a massive battle flag, silk as its base, adorned with Cloud Pattern, and on it were two characters, vast and majestic in spirit—

[Taiping].

Yet if one looked closely, those so‑called ink‑black Cloud Patterns were in fact names, one after another, densely packed.

When Yuan Shitong saw this object, his eyes widened.

Yan Xuanji said, "Your Majesty found this in the state treasury of Chen Country. After harming the Lord, Duke Chen Dingli actually never burned our battle flag."

Yuan Shitong said anxiously, "Let me see, is my name on it or not?"

He rummaged through a section, then suddenly burst out laughing.

Back then he had been forty‑three; now he was already a sixty‑five‑year‑old general of war, yet he still clapped his hands and laughed, overjoyed like a youth, saying, "Hahaha, I’ve found mine. Mr. Zhuge’s is here too! And here, here’s yours, Old Xue!"

"This serious, proper one is Gu Daohui’s."

"And this one, all crooked and scrawled like chicken scratches slapped on, that’s the Lord’s. Ahahaha, so ugly..."

Yuan Shitong laughed, but as he laughed, his tiger eyes grew red.

Of the old veterans of the Taiping Army, only they were left.

They wanted to laugh, but their tears came first.

Yan Xuanji gathered the eighty thousand Taiping Army stationed here and solemnly lifted up this great flag. When these soldiers saw that banner appear once more, in that instant, Wen Qingyu felt that the military momentum of this army seized up with a kind of stagnation.

It was hard to describe that feeling, as though the air had been hammered down by a heavy maul, the whole mass collapsing downward, a suffocating solemnity that made one uneasy.

To speak frankly, Wen Qingyu had not regarded this force as a first‑line corps, much less comparable to the elite Qilin Guard of the Qilin Army or the top‑tier Grey Wolf Guard.

Because too much time had already passed.

Perhaps once they had been a top‑tier corps galloping across the battlefield, but more than twenty years had gone by. This Taiping Army, which had lain dormant for two decades, had soldiers whose hair was already streaked with white.

Even those who had followed the Taiping Duke in those years had been only in their early twenties.

Now they were already over forty.

In their forties, often eating poorly, dressed thinly, stationed outside the passes of the Northern Domain, crawling through ice, sleeping on snow; they looked far older than their actual years, with much white hair and many wrinkles.

They were all old soldiers now.

Not a single young man, yet in that instant, an indescribable feeling appeared upon this ragtag band of veterans. Their pupils contracted, their bodies unconsciously straightened ramrod‑tall, their Breathing grew rough—and then suddenly shifted.

Exhale—

Inhale!

Just for a moment, the Seventh Prince Ashina suddenly felt his hair stand on end.

It was as if these eighty thousand old soldiers before him, in the blink of an eye, fused into a single whole, like a ferocious beast that had slumbered for more than twenty years, opening its eyes once more, grinding its teeth, sucking at blood.

Yan Xuanji trembled violently, the great banner of the Taiping Army billowing and rolling.

Yan Xuanji drew in a deep breath.

He looked ahead—this once‑famed general, long since no longer young, drew his Breathing, poured out all the bravery of his life, all the resolve of his life, all the hot blood of this lifetime, and roared:

"Taiping Army, where are you!!!"

Boom!!

The eighty thousand remnant soldiers of the Taiping Army stepped forward half a pace in perfect unison.

In perfect unison, they raised their arms and struck their chests.

In perfect unison, they answered together, as though making heaven and earth tremble, saying:

"Here!"

The Military Soul awoke; in an instant the murderous aura almost turned ink‑black, soaring into the sky.

Their hair was white, the battle robes upon them long since faded, yet their bodies were still straight as spears. As if they were still who they had been back then, as if they still wore those brand‑new battle robes.

As if beneath that rolling banner, that man stood there, smiling as he watched them.

No more words.

Then, as though he stretched out his hand, seized his great cloak, turned, and clenched his fist.

Striding away in great steps.

Yan Xuanji’s eyes were blood‑red as he shouted, "All you officers and men, the long‑held vow of the Taiping Army lies in this campaign. To fulfill the Lord’s ambition, to fulfill the vow we made in those years, take up your Weapons."

"Taiping Army, Drumming!!"

"Advance!!!"

The war drums thundered once more.

In this moment, this great army that had remained in the past finally arrived in the present. They raised high the banner of the Taiping Army, the ancient war flag rolling and tumbling in the sky.

Ashina’s pupils shrank violently as he watched this army march past before him, witnessing with his own eyes the Taiping Army crossing more than twenty years of time.

Once more, they had come to this era!

Fourth year of Emperor Qin · early seventh month of summer.

On the seventeenth day of Emperor Qin’s campaign against Ying Country, twenty‑two years after the death of the Taiping Duke.

The last of the Taiping Army, bearing their solitary and absolute ideal, stepped into the torrent of the age.

Their blades grim and cold, they broke the enemy again and again, pointing straight toward the Eastern Capital.

Absent from the realm for twenty‑two years!

The Taiping Army—

Stepped onto the battlefield.

Drumming.

Advance!