C12 The Fire Rose

Chen Ming watched the distant flames with a smile. Those were the torches lit by the enemy's army, flickering like a myriad of stars in the night sky, forming a vast, red sea of light. The fire was thick and boundless, advancing towards them like an unstoppable tide.

The generals exchanged glances, their hands instinctively reaching for their swords, though their grips quivered slightly.

Wang Meng observed Chen Ming's composed demeanor, puzzled by his unwavering confidence. Despite Chen Ming's attainment of the Dao Entering Stage, it seemed impossible for him to single-handedly defeat all the adversaries.

Chen Ming turned to the signal officer on the platform, who was holding two torches, and commanded with a calm authority, “Tiger Troubled Guard, hold your position and await my command. Everyone else, maintain your posts and wait for my orders.”

Ascending the platform, Chen Ming stood atop the thirty-foot structure, surveying the distant enemy forces. A hundred thousand men—what a staggering notion. In the daylight forest, their presence might not be so imposing, concealed by the dense foliage. But at night, with their torches aloft, they resembled a vast ocean, composed of a tempest of blades and spears.

The signal officer, gazing upon the teeming enemy ranks, swallowed hard, his body trembling.

Chen Ming stood in silence, awaiting the return of Yeh Ying. Truth be told, he wouldn't wait long. Should the enemy draw within five miles, regardless of Yeh Ying's status, he was prepared to give the order to ignite the fires.

After a quarter of an hour, a cadre of assassins clad in black, white cloth bands tied around their arms, burst from the forest. Chen Ming allowed himself a small smile. The enemy was still ten miles out, a river standing between them. He was curious to see how far they could flee.

With a commanding shout, Chen Ming ordered, “Send the word—if the enemy attempts to break through, spare not a single one!”

The signal officer stood dumbstruck. With the enemy numbering a hundred thousand to their thirty thousand, this wasn't a breakout—it was a slaughter.

The other generals were equally stunned, their thoughts grim.

It seemed their fates were sealed by the hands of Prince Chiang. One general lamented the likely loss of his cherished wife to another.

Then, with a detached tone, Chen Ming instructed, “Order the siege chariots to launch fire oil at the Mausoleum of the Prince Chiang and set the mountain ablaze!”

Wang Meng's eyes widened in shock. The prince intended to use fire as a weapon. He bowed respectfully and protested, "Your Highness, this cannot be! The dense forest stretches endlessly, covering a full fifth of the Yan Kingdom. Should this blaze be set, that entire fifth could become an inferno, with untold casualties. We're talking millions, perhaps even tens of millions of lives, not to mention rendering the land barren. This strategy is excessively cruel."

Chen Ming shook his head, countering, "Aside from the Mausoleum of the Prince Chiang, there's no place that can catch fire. Have you forgotten the clearing created by the logging belt? Without trees, how can a fire start?"

Wang Meng was dumbfounded. How could it burn without wood? How indeed?

The Mausoleum of the Prince Chiang was encircled by a vast river, impervious to flames. The only vulnerable point was the gourd's mouth, which had been stripped of trees by a swath of cleared land.

At that moment, Wang Meng was thoroughly impressed. "Prince, your foresight is unparalleled. You had this planned all along, and I was too dull to see it."

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Siege chariots launched jar after jar of flaming oil into the woods. The dry leaves on the forest floor caught fire instantly, and the blaze spread rapidly, engulfing tree after tree. Soon the flames were sweeping through the surrounding area, igniting everything in their path.

In no time at all, the entire perimeter of the Mausoleum of the Prince Chiang was engulfed in a sea of flames.

The fire could not spread to the river, nor could it advance across the treeless logging belt. It had only one direction to go—toward the Mausoleum of the Prince Chiang.

The fierce glow of the fire lit up the night, a conflagration so intense it seemed capable of scorching the sky, turning night into day. The trees popped and hissed in the inferno. The forest, once dense and unbroken, was now a vast expanse of fire, with flames reaching dozens of feet into the air. The heat from such an intense blaze was extraordinary, and even the most moisture-laden trees were set alight. The wildfire spread in an instant, unstoppable in its fury.

At that moment, the generals grasped the full extent of Chen Ming's strategy. The idea of employing a fire attack had never crossed their minds. While it was the optimal tactic in the dense forest, it was also fraught with risks. It could annihilate the enemy forces, but at the cost of scorching one-fifth of the Yan Kingdom's land, extinguishing a hundred thousand soldiers, and dooming tens of millions of civilians along with their homes and livelihoods.

However, their concerns were now alleviated, for the fire could not reach them in the safety of the logging belt.

Initially, the blaze was manageable, failing to spread beyond ten feet. By the time it had the potential to extend further, the surrounding trees in the logging belt had been reduced to ashes, leaving no fuel to feed the inferno.

The generals, eager for glory, clenched their fists in anticipation, ready to reap the rewards of battle as they awaited the desperate enemy attempting to escape their fiery fate.

Gone were the days of fretting over the fidelity of their cherished wives. Now, their thoughts turned to the military honors that awaited them.

Chen Ming unsheathed the Prince Su Sword from his back, positioning it before him. With a light leap, he mounted the sword and soared to the forefront of the blaze, calling out, "Where are the Tiger Troubled Guards?"

Thirty Tiger Troubled Guards, mounted on their Flying Swords, rallied behind Chen Ming. He bellowed, "Once the fire ignites, even an army of a hundred thousand is doomed to perish. Our current task is to confront the Dao Entering Stage cultivators sent to halt the fire's advance. Now is the time to build our legacy and slay the enemy. Who among you dares to join me in this fight?"

Flushed with fervor, the Tiger Guards responded in a thunderous chorus, "Prince, we pledge to expand our borders with our blood wherever your sword leads!"

Chen Ming's laughter boomed, "Excellent! Follow me, let's charge!"

He led the charge, sword flying into the heart of the flames. Remarkably, Chen Ming refrained from summoning his protective magic to shield himself from the fire. He was intent on testing the resilience of his flesh, honed by the arduous Ninety-nine Profound Technique.

As the fire licked his skin, an invigorating blood Qi encased him, rendering the flames utterly harmless.

Chen Ming's heart swelled with joy. The flames could not harm him, sparing him the need to expend magical energy on protective spells. His enemies, however, weren't so fortunate. With this advantage, Chen Ming felt assured of victory, even against a fourth-stage Dao Entering adversary.

The army's spears stood in formidable rows, their battle cries merging into a chorus that rang in his ears. Chen Ming reveled in the exhilaration, his spirit soaring with a boldness that demanded action. In such a moment, it was time to strike!

Striding upon his Flying Sword, Chen Ming cut through the flames and gales that swirled around him, an avatar of fire incarnate. Generals and soldiers alike gazed upon the white-clad figure soaring amidst the inferno, a reverence rising unbidden within them.

A hundred thousand troops, a sky ablaze—none dared to challenge him. There stood only one, the Prince, unyielding and supreme!