The next day, Gu Anqi and his group found the city guards early in the morning and explained their purpose.
The guards told them that Commander Feng’s residence was not in this city but in another city and that Commander Feng was currently on patrol and not at home.
However, they were willing to write a letter to Commander Feng immediately, informing him that they could wait at the inn.
They stayed in the city for three days and explored the entire city.
One evening, they received an invitation to a banquet, which meant that Commander Feng had arrived.
Before it was completely dark, Gu Anqi and his group arrived at the inn ahead of time.
It was magnificent and only frequented by high-ranking officials and nobles.
Upon entering the inn, we were guided to a private room on the second floor.
Unlike the others, this room occupied half of the second floor, essentially a large open space.
Gu Anqi and the others sat sipping tea, patiently waiting for Commander Feng.
From outside the curtain came steady footsteps and the soft clatter of armor.
A tall, imposing young general, his brows cold and stern, entered, his hand on his sword, exuding a chilling aura honed on the battlefield.
Gu Anqi lowered his gaze, thinking to himself, “This is Commander Feng?” His bearing is indeed extraordinary, but this murderous aura is perhaps too heavy… He seems subtly different from the commander he had imagined, the one who could command the hearts of the Thirteen Alliances.
Ah Chen’s gaze swept over the calluses on the other man’s knuckles and his posture like a hawk’s, assessing him in his mind: a formidable opponent.
But something seemed to be missing—the calm pressure he had once felt, the pressure that seemed to penetrate the fog and control the entire situation.
As their thoughts raced, they heard the guard leading the way salute the general, addressing him as “Commander Yu.” Yu He, the commander of the first city, stepped forward and bowed to everyone.
Upon hearing this, Gu Anqi and Achen immediately stood up and returned Yu He’s respectful greeting, “Commander Yu.” Their demeanor was impeccable.
Yu He bowed to a young man who looked like a steward and said, “Steward Xin, didn’t General Feng return?
Where is he?” At this moment, a man who looked like a steward said, “General Feng is changing his clothes.” A moment later, a strong, resonant female voice came from behind the screen, “Nephew, you’ve finally arrived.” Gu Anqi and Achen looked in the direction of the voice and saw a woman emerge from behind the screen.
She was dressed in a neutral style, her eyes smiling, and she walked straight towards Xie Ciyun.
She was not exceptionally beautiful, but her eyes were clear and resolute.
When she casually raised her hand to dismiss Commander Yu’s curtsy, her movements were crisp and decisive, without any of the usual feminine softness.
Gu Anqi and Achen were both taken aback—the elegant and smiling person before them was actually the legendary “Phoenix Commander,” and a woman at that.
Before they could think further, their gazes were drawn to the scene inside the private room: The general named Yu He, who had entered with a brisk and imposing air, now knelt on one knee, bowed deeply, and spoke in a voice as taut as a fully drawn bowstring: “This humble general has failed in his duty…
He let that leader escape.
Please punish me, Commander Feng!” The woman, respectfully addressed as “Phoenix Commander,” remained completely unconcerned, even waving her hand with a smile and saying twice, “It’s nothing.” Her tone was relaxed, as if she had truly only heard about a trivial matter.
A thin layer of sweat had already seeped through Yu He’s lowered neck, and even the fabric under his shoulder armor seemed slightly stiff.
This silent tension contrasted sharply with the seemingly perpetually relaxed smile on Feng Shuai’s face, creating a silent yet alarming effect.
Gu Anqi’s eyes flickered slightly, and Achen’s knuckles tapped lightly on the sword sheath.
They both understood: this was no “small matter.” This Commander Feng’s “indifference” was more breathtaking than any harsh reprimand.
A short while later, a prisoner-looking man was brought up.
Upon seeing Feng Qinghe, the prisoner immediately knelt down and kowtowed, repeatedly saying that he was wrong, that he shouldn’t have colluded with the Oirat Mongols, and that he shouldn’t have betrayed his country for personal gain.
“It’s nothing, it’s nothing,” Feng Qinghe said with a smile.
Then, as if she had discovered something new, she pointed to the dagger at Gu Anqi’s waist and said, “Young master, this dagger looks quite nice.
May I take a look at it?” Gu Anqi took the dagger, and Feng Qinghe kept looking at it, saying, “It’s really good, really good; it looks like a good knife.” The prisoner was already weeping as he confessed his crimes and begged Feng Qinghe for forgiveness.
Suddenly, Feng Qinghe raised her hand, and the dagger had already slashed the prisoner’s neck, leaving a bloody mark, killing him instantly.
Before making her move, Feng Qinghe’s expression didn’t even change; that murderous aura vanished in an instant.
Although Yu He had known this would be the outcome, he was still taken aback by Feng Qinghe’s speed, accuracy, and ruthlessness.
The rapid change surprised Xie Ciyun and the others.
Feng Qinghe calmly wiped the blood from her knife and said, “Commander Yu, pass down the order: anyone who wants to flee to the Oirat should take their family with them and flee.
I, Feng Qinghe, will forgive and forget.
But those who are loyal to the Han while serving Cao Cao kill them without mercy.
” Feng Qinghe didn’t even have any murderous intent when she said these words.
“Good knife, put it away, young master, let’s move to another table.” They moved to the side, and during the meal, apart from introducing themselves, Feng Qinghe didn’t ask about their backgrounds, experiences, or why they sought refuge.
Instead, she kept recommending the different scenery and cuisine of the thirteen cities to them.
After finishing their meal, the group moved to a seat by the window.
Before they had even finished their cups of tea, hurried, frantic footsteps echoed from the stairs.
A young soldier rushed up, panting, and knelt on one knee, his voice trembling with tension: “Report!
Commander Feng!
Urgent military intelligence!
Our patrols have detected a group of Oirat cavalry in our territory.
They have set up camp less than two hundred li north of the city, and their movements are unknown!” Before the words were even finished, the atmosphere froze instantly.
Gu Anqi paused slightly in his teacup, quickly exchanging a glance with Achen beside him.
Although they had anticipated unrest at the border, they hadn’t expected the atmosphere of war to be so close before they had even firmly established themselves.
Two hundred li was merely a day’s journey for cavalry; war could break out at any moment.
The two of them turned their gazes to Feng Qinghe, who was sitting in the main seat.
But Feng Qinghe simply set down her teacup slowly, the bottom lightly touching the wooden table with a barely audible “tap.” Her face showed no sign of alarm, not even the usual, slightly distant smile.
Instead, she turned her head with interest and spoke to the innkeeper, who was standing nearby: “Lady Jin, it seems we have guests who have traveled a long way.
What do you think?
Should we take a gamble and see if they come knocking on our door tonight?” The woman known as Lady Jin still possessed a captivating charm, but now her eyebrows furrowed in reproach as she scolded, “My dear General Feng!
What time is it?
The scouts have clearly stated that the vanguard of the Oirat Mongols is less than two hundred li away!
And you still have the mind to joke around!” Feng Qinghe gave a soft “hmm,” her fingertips casually tracing the warm rim of the cup.
Her gaze drifted to the twilight-shrouded wilderness outside the window.
Her relaxed demeanor suggested that she wasn’t discussing pressing military matters but rather the weather for the next day.
A composure based on absolute control and abundant confidence silently permeated the air, diluting the tension brought by the soldiers.
“What’s the rush?” Feng Qinghe put down her teacup, her gaze seemingly casually sweeping across the dark night sky outside the window.
“They’re the ones who should be anxious.” She then became serious and said to her guards, “Summon Meng Liang.” The city’s defender, Meng Liang, arrived quickly, fully armored.
“Your subordinate is here!” “Go, invite all the Oirat people in the city, whether they are merchants, artisans, or expatriates, to the open space in front of the inn.
Be polite, but be quick,” Feng Qinghe ordered, her tone calm but leaving no room for argument.
Soon, the open space downstairs was filled with terrified Oirat people.
Feng Qinghe walked to the second-floor railing, where torches below illuminated half of her figure, while the other half remained hidden in the shadows of the eaves.
“I am Feng Qinghe, the commander of the Thirteen Border Alliances.” Her clear voice echoed throughout the entire area.
“Your Oirat elite troops are currently encamped two hundred miles away.” A commotion broke out in the crowd.
“But I know that it is not the Khan of the Oirat who is leading the troops.” Feng Qinghe raised her voice to suppress the noise.
“It is the wolves in your own country who have taken the Khan’s orders hostage and want to use the blood of my soldiers and your Oirat warriors to stain the steps of their usurpation!” Her words were precise and powerful, and some of the Oirat people showed surprise and anger on their faces.
“Now, I’ll give you two choices.” Feng Qinghe held up two fingers.
“First, I’ll give you weapons and horses, and you can go out of the city to help your Khan clean house and kill the traitors.
Second, wait for my border army to be dispatched.
If my troops cross the border…” She paused, her voice turning cold, “And what they’ll crush won’t just be that small force of surprise troops.” After a moment of silence, a roar erupted from the Oirat people: “We can’t let them succeed!” “Protect the Khan!” “Fight them!” Meng Liang led his men forward at the opportune moment and distributed the weapons that had been prepared beforehand…
Night had fallen, but the private rooms on the second floor were brightly lit.
The subtle exchange and instantaneous control they had just witnessed shattered the vague image of “Commander Feng” in the minds of Gu Anqi and his companions, replacing it with a more concrete and profound sense of awe.
What they saw was not the vague legend of “divine soldiers descending from the sky and fighting for three days in blood,” but a living, breathing commander who could instantly perceive the situation, utilize contradictions, and turn enemies into allies.
The atmosphere inside the inn was still shrouded in a silent, oppressive tension when suddenly a commotion arose from afar.
The floor on the second floor immediately trembled slightly, and then a strong smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of perfume filled the air.
A portly general in his fifties or sixties, his face ruddy and his gait unsteady, practically half-embracing, half-carrying a beautiful woman in bright clothes, her face flushed with shyness, burst in.
He squinted, shook his enormous head, and gave a rather rude bow towards the head of the household, stammering, “This…this humble general Wang Da greets Commander Feng!
Hiccup…” The private room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and everyone’s eyes were fixed on Feng Shuai, who was standing by the window.
Feng Qinghe shifted her gaze from Yu He to the beautiful concubine.
Her face showed no displeasure at being disturbed.
Instead, she turned to ask Jin Niangzi, who was standing to the side, in a tone as calm as if she were asking about the weather: “How many concubines has he brought into the mansion this year?” Lady Jin was clearly used to this kind of scene and replied in a low voice with no choice but to answer, “Reporting to Commander Feng, this is the sixteenth since the beginning of spring.” “Sixteen.” Feng Qinghe repeated the number softly, then turned her gaze to the drunken Wang Da, a cryptic smile playing on her lips.
“General Wang, it’s good that you’re still vigorous in your old age.
But you should also take it easy, lest others misunderstand that you’re eager for your son to inherit your position as general so you can enjoy your retirement in peace.” Her tone was relaxed, even slightly teasing, instantly easing the tense atmosphere in the tent.
Many generals couldn’t help but chuckle.
Upon hearing this, Wang Da, far from being afraid, laughed heartily, fueled by the alcohol, his voice booming: “General Feng is joking!
This old man’s bones can still mount a horse and draw his bow, killing dozens more Oirat bastards!
Just in time, I volunteer to go out of the city and wipe out those Oirat people who dare to spy on us!
To achieve another great feat for General Feng!” He was full of bravado, patting his chest, which made the beautiful concubine cry out in surprise.
Feng Qinghe merely raised her hand casually, as if brushing away troublesome dust, her tone remaining indifferent: “Since General Wang has such a wish, then so be it.” A potential punishment for drunkenly barging into the tent and behaving inappropriately was thus averted with just a few words from her.
The drunken Wang, still dazed, embraced his concubine and staggered away, half-supported and half-invited.
The flickering lights inside the inn illuminated Feng Qinghe’s calm and composed profile.
Wang Da’s incident seemed like a mere breeze, blowing across a deep pool, yet failing to stir even the slightest hint of deeper meaning in her eyes.