The Warlord 08

Fang Zhiyi's territory flourished with prosperity and military might. Even local bandits had been eradicated, and neighboring warlords who harbored ill intentions suffered heavy losses in several clashes. Some wondered if Fang Zhiyi's troops were on performance-enhancing substances, as their combat effectiveness surpassed even their previous reputation.

Even civilians from other regions began migrating to Anning City, causing severe population drain. At its worst, there were even cases of soldiers defecting en masse.

Fang Zhiyi was delighted—this was what reputation could do.

Unexpectedly, the time-traveling woman still appeared, but this time, she came specifically for him!

Seeing the woman blocking the road, Fang Zhiyi gritted his teeth in irritation.

After a long pause, he ordered, "Drag her away."

Huang Ying stared dreamily at the man riding away on horseback, her heart pounding wildly.

Romantic fantasies of turbulent times filled her mind. Though he was older, he exuded such charisma! Stars practically sparkled in her eyes.

But that very night, she was stuffed into a sack. When released, she found herself in an unfamiliar city.

Huang Ying panicked.

Had she been sold by human traffickers?

The next moment, a man in military uniform appeared, locking eyes with her for a long time.

Her heart fluttered again.

He was even more handsome—much younger than that Fang Zhiyi!

Two years later, Fang Zhiyi received Xiao Heng in Anning City. Looking at the striking young man before him, he couldn't help but reflect—this was one of the few decent male leads in the original plot, though his taste was questionable, having taken another man's wife in the story.

Xiao Heng swiftly annexed several neighboring warlords but deliberately spared Fang Zhiyi. He even rode alone into Anning City to meet him personally.

"Marshal Fang, I’ve heard of your well-trained troops and prosperous governance. With your strength, conquering them should have been effortless. Some say you lack ambition, others claim you’re complacent. But I wanted to ask you directly," Xiao Heng said respectfully, though his gaze remained piercing.

Fang Zhiyi shrugged. "With foreign enemies at our borders, I won’t pit Xia Kingdom’s people against each other. I refuse to weaken our own."

Xiao Heng’s expression shifted. He stood and bowed deeply. "Marshal Fang, your righteousness is unmatched. While foreign powers loom, we waste strength on infighting. I intend to unite the northern forces and form a new army to resist them. I wonder if you..."

The room erupted with the sound of guns being drawn and cocked.

Zhao Dezhu, Cao Wenjie, Wang Biao—even Fang Yaozu had his weapon ready.

Yet Xiao Heng showed no fear, his face earnest.

"Fine. Saves me the trouble," Fang Zhiyi chuckled, signaling his men to stand down.

"Marshal!" they protested.

To them, Xiao Heng’s bold arrival was suicidal—now he demanded their surrender? And the Marshal agreed?

"Have you forgotten my words?" Fang Zhiyi said sternly. "You are an army—but you serve the people, the Xia Kingdom, not me."

Xiao Heng’s respect deepened. "Marshal Fang, rumors paint you as a tomb raider, an arsonist, a butcher of innocents. Yet I see none of that. I will clear your name!"

Fang Zhiyi waved dismissively. "Ah, no need. Those rumors… aren’t entirely false."

The transfer of power went smoothly. Fang Zhiyi’s orders faced little resistance—only Wang Biao and Anning’s citizens objected. Xiao Heng even offered Fang Zhiyi the governorship, but he declined. "I’m old and tired. Just let me retire in peace."

When Xiao Heng toured the arms factory outside Anning City under Fang Yaozu’s guidance, he was stunned anew.

"My father has long prepared. Truthfully, even if you forced your way, we could’ve made you pay dearly," Fang Yaozu said gravely.

Xiao Heng nodded, filled with admiration.

Who would’ve thought Fang Zhiyi—the warlord reputed as the toughest nut to crack—was such a man? In another era, he might’ve been an unrivaled conqueror.

The following year, Xiao Heng, having unified the north, mobilized the new army. The Xia Kingdom launched a counteroffensive, with Anning—the most developed region—providing extensive logistical support. Many young officers who rose through the ranks revered Fang Zhiyi as their mentor.

Soon after, Cao Wenjie was captured. Known for his pragmatism, he died in prison without divulging a single useful piece of intelligence.

That same year, Wang Biao fell in battle, leading his men in a desperate siege—10,000 against 50,000—securing a pivotal city for the new army.

Two years later, Zhao Dezhu was carried off the front lines, wounded. As for Fang Yaozu—no news of him surfaced.

When victory was declared, the Xia Kingdom erupted in celebration.

Zhao Dezhu returned to Fang Zhiyi’s side. The once-vigorous marshal had aged rapidly. Spotting Zhao Dezhu’s missing arm, Fang Zhiyi teased, "Lucky you’re a lefty."

Zhao Dezhu grinned, but his smile faded at the thought of Fang Yaozu’s disappearance.

Fang Zhiyi, however, seemed to know everything—and didn’t seem bothered.

Only after Fang Zhiyi’s passing did Xiao Heng arrive belatedly, clutching an urn. Kneeling before the tombstone, his face was etched with grief.

Fang Yaozu had led his troops to hold Sanguan Pass against enemy forces for months. Cut off from reinforcements, his unit—originally Fang Zhiyi’s men—fought until fewer than ten remained.

When urged to flee, Fang Yaozu refused. "I’ve already failed Anning’s people. If I run now, I’ll have no face to meet our ancestors!" He died clutching the army’s flag.

Survivors recounted how, before his last stand, he kowtowed three times toward Anning. Even in death, his body remained upright.

Before the enemy could claim the pass, reinforcements arrived, crushing the opposition and securing victory.

Some said Fang Yaozu’s kowtows were for his father—an apology for unfilialness.

Only Fang Zhiyi knew the truth: that brat had finally realized how many lives he’d failed.

"Pity. Couldn’t kill him twice," Fang Zhiyi muttered.

Little Hei glanced at the memorial erected for Fang Yaozu. "He was a spoiled heir, but at least he died a soldier."

"Hmph." Fang Zhiyi snorted. "Should’ve raised a roast pork instead."

Yet Little Hei caught him stealing one last look at the tombstone.

"Let’s go."