Volume One: The Song of the Phoenix

Prologue: The Romance of That Arrow

Thunder rumbled in the distance, making the mountain ridges tremble. Lightning seemed as if it would tear the earth apart. The oppressive, rolling black clouds hung overhead. Under the might of the heavens, humans were such small and fragile creatures!

Blood flowed like rivers, corpses lay everywhere, and the shouts of battle were almost drowned out by the thunder.

Henry Barrett, covered in blood, stumbled through the stone forest, protected by several of his personal guards.

The jagged rocks looked like a labyrinth. In the raging wind and rain, it was impossible to tell east from west.

“Duhu Gong, there’s a road ahead!” one of the guards suddenly cheered. The rain seemed to be easing, and up ahead, a massive earthen mound could be vaguely seen.

Henry Barrett let out a long sigh in his heart, wanting to laugh out loud, but in front of his guards, he had to maintain his dignity. Yet, thinking of the difficulties facing the nation, his heart grew unbearably heavy. Could it be that Richard Grant was truly destined by heaven? Was Zhou truly the rightful ruler?

Henry Barrett was the Military Governor of Fenghua Army in Southern Tang.

Last month, the ruler of Zhou, Richard Grant, led a great army to attack Tang, his forces heading straight for Shouzhou.

At this time, Tang was at its peak, with thirty-six prefectures. The prosperous lands north and south of the Yangtze all belonged to Tang.

Many northern scholars had fled here. It was said, “Confucian robes and scholarly attire flourish in Southern Tang,” and “the culture has the elegance of the Yuanhe era.”

In these chaotic times, Southern Tang was already the most stable and prosperous place.

Thus, the Zhou kingdom in the north, ever covetous, finally bared its fangs.

The Zhou soldiers were exceptionally brave and skilled, with many experienced generals. The weak Southern Tang troops suffered a heavy defeat the first time they faced the Zhou army.

Henry Barrett led his troops to relieve the siege of Shouzhou, but was utterly routed by Zhou’s fierce general George Washington, his entire army collapsing.

In the distance, the sounds of battle could still be faintly heard. The brutal war—who knew under which commander’s orders it was now raging?

“Duhu Gong, look?!” the guards suddenly cried out in despair.

By now, Henry Barrett had also climbed to the top of the mound. Looking into the distance, he gasped in shock, his despair reaching its peak.

He saw, several hundred paces away, squads of black-armored cavalry galloping along the post road, clearly rushing to reinforce the battlefield.

In the center of the cavalry, behind a grand banner, martial flags fluttered. The countless banners seemed to merge into an endless shadow, sweeping oppressively toward the lands of Southern Tang.

Could it be—could it really be the ruler of Zhou, Richard Grant?!

It had long been rumored that Richard Grant was divinely gifted in war, undefeated in every campaign he led personally.

What—what could they do now?

“Heaven wants me dead!” Henry Barrett felt as if he’d fallen into an icy abyss. He suddenly drew his sword, intending to kill himself. Rather than suffer at the hands of the Zhou army, it would be better to die and preserve his honor.

“Duhu Gong, don’t!” The guards hurriedly grabbed him.

Suddenly, another guard shouted, “Hey, what’s that?!”

They saw, in the distance beyond the mound, a black dot racing closer—a lone rider on horseback, wielding an iron spear in both hands, suddenly charging into the Zhou army’s ranks. Instantly, the sounds of battle erupted. Wherever the chestnut horse went, the Zhou cavalry fell into chaos.

“Who is that?” Henry Barrett was dumbfounded. One man, charging into Richard Grant’s imperial guard cavalry? Was he mad?

“Is—is that a tuanjie soldier?!” The guard beside Henry Barrett was also stunned.

That rider wore plain clothes, but the gray cloth tied around his head was striking—wasn’t he one of the tuanjie soldiers recruited by their country to resist Zhou?

The so-called tuanjie soldiers were peasants. For this campaign against Zhou, in the lands north of the Yangtze, one man was conscripted from every three households to form the tuanjie army.

But basically, these village soldiers were cannon fodder on the battlefield.

How could a tuanjie soldier be so fierce and brave?

Amid screams, the Zhou soldiers were smashed or stabbed by the rider’s iron spear, thrown into chaos. The rider suddenly spurred his horse and dashed away into the distance.

The Zhou army was extremely well-trained. Instantly, a squad of over a hundred cavalry broke off to pursue him.

As the rider galloped, he suddenly pulled the longbow from his back. His bow bent like a full moon, and arrows shot out like lightning. In just a moment, a rain of arrows flew toward the Zhou army’s command banner. His movements were so fast, they were almost impossible to see.

Henry Barrett’s first thought was: What speed! In that instant, he must have fired a dozen arrows.

His second thought: Can a bow shoot that far? At this moment, the rider was at least four or five hundred paces from the Zhou army’s command banner.

Just as Henry Barrett’s second thought flashed through his mind, he heard screams erupting from the Zhou ranks.

Chaos broke out beneath the command banner.

Someone shouted, “Your Majesty? Your Majesty!”

Henry Barrett was stunned. Had he hit Richard Grant? How—how could that be possible?

But he was too far away to see clearly.

By now, the rider was very close to the mound. He suddenly raised his bow again, sending another rain of arrows flying behind him.

The armored cavalry in pursuit—over a dozen at the front—cried out and fell from their horses.