HCT – Chapter 215 The Killer, King of Wei

Because it was the New Year, both armies hung up signs declaring a temporary ceasefire. The generals and nobles in the camps brought out wine and meat, inviting singers and dancers to entertain.

The common soldiers, though, had no such luxuries; many might not even have full bellies. But hearing the lively noises from the camp, knowing there would be a day or two without having to fight, was a comfort in itself.

Xiang Yan, who had been pretending to be ill, came from the rear to attend the feast at the front. If he hadn’t appeared, it would have been seen as a serious insult to the other nobles.

After a night of drinking, Xiang Yan only released the beautiful singer in his arms the next morning when the sun was high. With her attending to him, he rose.

He had intended not to participate in the subsequent noble banquets that day and to return to the rear to continue feigning illness.

At that moment, a general rushed in, flustered, reporting that the allied armies of Wei, Han, and Zhao had arrived at the camp gate, requesting to see Xiang Yan and asking for a ceasefire.

Xiang Yan frowned in confusion.

Though he did not command the troops directly, he knew that the Chu–Yan allied forces were riddled with flaws under Li Yuan’s poor management. Even if Wei Wuji had voluntarily surrendered command under the Wei King’s manipulations, the Chu–Yan forces were still at a disadvantage in battle.

Why would the Wei–Han–Zhao alliance request a ceasefire?

“Did they send envoys?” Xiang Yan asked, his head throbbing with frustration.

Now that he was in the main tent, he was the only one who could handle this. But the enemy asking for peace while clearly in the stronger position felt suspicious.

The general opened his mouth, but before he could finish speaking, tears began to fall.

Xiang Yan’s confusion deepened. “Why are you crying?”

The general wiped his hand across his face, choking back sobs. “It’s not envoys… it’s… it’s everyone.”

Xiang Yan scolded him sharply: “Everyone? Why was the message delivered so unclearly? What are you crying about? Do you mean they’re not asking for peace, but have come to attack?”

Through tears and in a broken voice, the general stammered: “I… I don’t know how to say this. General Xiang, it’s everyone… all the generals of the Wei, Han, and Zhao armies have come. They ask you, all the generals of the Chu–Yan army, to come, to… deliver a message from Lord Xinling.”

This Chu general had heard of Lord Xinling before, but he had no personal feelings toward him—he was just a stranger from a story.

Now, for some reason, a wave of grief in his heart would not subside.

The name Lord Chunshen came to mind, and with it the memory of the man’s visage, deepening his sorrow.

The Chu general knelt before Xiang Yan. “Under the coercion of the King of Wei, Lord Xinling hanged himself. We ask the King of Chu and the army of Chu to withdraw!”

“What?!” Xiang Yan staggered, grabbing the collar of the kneeling general. “What did you just say?!”

The Chu general wept: “Lord Xinling’s retainer, Zhu Hai, says the King of Wei forced Lord Xinling to hang himself! We beg the King of Chu to withdraw!”

Xiang Yan released the general’s collar, swaying slightly before regaining his stance.

He raised his right hand to cover his eyes, letting out a hoarse, ugly laugh.

“Why is it always me,” Xiang Yan said, “who encounters this kind of thing?!”

After laughing a few more times, he lowered his hand, his eyes reddened. “Prepare my clothes. Bring me something plain to wear.”

He paused, then added: “No armor.”

In the open space between the two camps, Zhu Hai knelt in the center, wearing coarse hemp, a piece of blood-stained cloth laid before him.

Beside him was a crude, thin coffin.

Behind Zhu Hai, the entire army either wore plain clothes or white cloths draped over their shoulders, all showing mourning expressions.

Several scholars were already so overcome with grief that they had to be supported just to remain standing.

The gates of the Chu–Yan camp were wide open.

Not only was Xiang Yan without armor, but all his generals and mixed-achievement soldiers were also unarmored.

Li Yuan, hoping to gain favor with the scholars, had personally visited the frontlines the previous day and was present again today.

This time he did not dare take the lead, letting Xiang Yan appear as the official front while he played the role of deputy behind him.

Peeking forward, Li Yuan noticed the cloth must have been torn from clothing. The blood lettering had darkened, as if written for a long time.

He muttered, “Is this really blood lettering? Hard to tell.”

Xiang Yan glared at Li Yuan.

Li Yuan’s heart jumped violently at the gaze, as if a beast had locked onto him, and he instinctively stepped back.

Xiang Yan spoke in a low voice: “Chancellor, speak carefully. That is Lord Xinling.”

Li Yuan had intended to say, “So what if it’s Lord Xinling?” But when he opened his mouth, he realized all the surrounding generals and scholars of his own side were glaring at him.

Some even rested their hands on their sword hilts, as if a single word more from him would see the sword drawn.

Though Li Yuan had become the new favorite of the King of Chu, he was not naive about reading people.

Though angry that these Chu scholars ignored him, he wisely closed his mouth.

Xiang Yan strode forward, knelt on one knee before the blood-lettered cloth, and quietly read aloud:

“Wuji is dead. The King of Chu, please withdraw!”

When Xiang Yan approached, Zhu Hai had been keeping his eyes closed.

As Xiang Yan read the blood words, Zhu Hai opened his bloodshot eyes and looked up at him.

They met each other’s gaze. The grief and anger in Zhu Hai’s eyes sent a chill down the spine of the battle-hardened general; his right hand instinctively grasped the sword at his waist.

It was as if he were looking at a cornered wild beast.

Zhu Hai’s hoarse voice rang out: “The King of Wei says, because Chu attacked Wei for Lord Xinling, if the state falls, how can Lord Xinling face his ancestors? Lord Xinling repays Wei with his life. Lord Xinling is dead! The King of Chu, please withdraw!”

Taking a deep breath, he shouted again and again:

“The killer of Lord Xinling is the King of Wei! Lord Xinling is dead! The King of Chu, withdraw!” 

“The killer of Lord Xinling is the King of Wei! Lord Xinling is dead! The King of Chu, withdraw!” 

“The killer of Lord Xinling is the King of Wei! Lord Xinling is dead! The King of Chu, withdraw!”

 “King of Chu, withdraw!!!”

Zhu Hai’s voice was like rolling thunder, exploding in everyone’s ears.

Even the soldiers at the back of the Chu army heard clearly; Xiang Yan, standing closest, felt his eardrums ring and a dull ache in his chest.

Despite shouting “The killer of Lord Xinling is the King of Wei,” no Wei generals or soldiers intervened—he was allowed to yell freely.

Xiang Yan’s voice was stern: “Do you know what you’re saying?”

Zhu Hai glared, but his anger was not directed at Xiang Yan. He had been enraged ever since seeing Lord Xinling hang himself.

Xiang Yan said: “Lord Xinling hanged himself to avoid the King of Wei killing him personally.”

He paused, lowering his voice: “Like… Lord Chunshen. He wanted everyone to think it was the King of Chu who drove him to death, to expose the King of Wei. He acted to protect the Wei King, to prevent internal strife in Wei over him and the King. Do you understand?”

Zhu Hai stared at Xiang Yan intently.

After a long while, he grinned, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth.

He clenched his teeth and bit his lips to suppress the anger he could not release.

“I understand,” Zhu Hai said. “If my master were here, I would naturally follow his orders; but my master is dead, so I act according to my own heart.”

“Lord Xinling never betrayed the King of Wei, never betrayed Wei. But does the King of Wei, does Wei itself, dare to ask themselves if they have wronged Lord Xinling?” Zhu Hai’s laughter grew louder, his body trembling. “Why, why must I cover for the King of Wei when he forced my master to die? If my master were displeased, he would have scolded me himself!”

Zhu Hai pointed to the crude, thin coffin beside him, pieced together from whatever wood was available due to limited army resources.

“My master is here. Why doesn’t he come to scold me?” Zhu Hai raved, “If he doesn’t, it means he agrees with me!”

Xiang Yan watched him for a long time. “You’re mad,” he finally said.

Zhu Hai smiled: “Am I really mad?”

Xiang Yan said: “If Wei suffers, it is not what Lord Xinling would have wanted.”

He did not know why he felt compelled to speak these words to a man he normally looked down upon.

Xiang Yan, haughty as ever, had usually judged people by birth and status, like other Chu nobles. Only those on his level would earn his attention.

Yet now, he spoke at length to someone he would normally not glance at.

Was he persuading Zhu Hai… or persuading himself?

A vague figure appeared in his mind. He immediately suppressed the name and continued: “Lord Xinling, as a son of Wei, did not wish harm to Wei.”

Zhu Hai laughed: “Even if we hide the truth, would Wei remain safe? Lord Xinling was forced to death, and Wei still faces danger. In past crises, Lord Xinling protected Wei. Now he is gone—who else can save Wei?”

Xiang Yan was speechless.

He thought carefully, and indeed could not name a single person who could inspire the same confidence that Wei would survive as Lord Xinling had.

Xiang Yan had once greatly admired Lord Xinling.

Or rather, the four great nobles of the Warring States were the “pinnacle” in many scholars’ eyes. Everyone wished to be such a person.

Even though Chu had Lord Chunshen, Xiang Yan had dreamed of being Chu’s Lord Xinling. Unlike other nobles, Lord Xinling could proudly say that as long as he lived, Wei would not fall.

When Lord Xinling raised his hand, even if other kings resisted, countless scholars and troops would rally to him, obeying his orders.

Considering this, it was no wonder the King of Wei seized an opportunity to force Wuji to die.

Xiang Yan, previously politically insensitive, had fallen out of favor when Chu did not need a competent general to guard the capital. His career stalled.

Now, a sudden clarity seemed to illuminate his mind.

Looking at Zhu Hai, completely mad, unable to discern right from wrong, unwilling to obey even Lord Xinling’s final wishes, Xiang Yan felt pity and stopped trying to reason with him.

Though Zhu Hai’s words harmed the King of Wei and Wei state, they favored Chu and its king.

Xiang Yan should have merely listened and scolded the King of Wei, but his heart could not bear it.

He stood, approached Lord Xinling’s coffin, removed the sword from his waist, and placed it atop the coffin:

“Withdraw. If the King of Chu is questioned, I will take full responsibility!”

A sudden relief filled Xiang Yan’s heart.

This was a golden opportunity for him.

Though he had hidden during Lord Chunshen’s death, some had still blamed him.

Now, leveraging Lord Xinling’s forced suicide, he could finally clear his own name. People would remember his actions and words now, praising his loyalty.

Lord Changping saw Lord Chunshen off; Xiang Yan was withdrawing for Lord Xinling.

These two acts of virtue could stand side by side.

Thinking of this, Xiang Yan’s heart leapt, and he struggled to suppress a smile at last.

As he brushed past Li Yuan, he glanced at Li Yuan’s terrified face, and his mood grew even lighter.

Li Yuan had suppressed him harshly during this period, and he had been seething with resentment for a long time. Now, seeing Li Yuan like this, he felt a wave of vindictive satisfaction.

He issued the order to retreat before the King of Chu could, even saying that if the king was displeased, he would take full responsibility.

And what could Li Yuan do?

This situation resembled what had happened with Lord Chunshen. Li Yuan had once framed Lord Chunshen, leading to his death. Would he dare report Lord Xinling’s matter to the King of Chu?

Xiang Yan took full responsibility for the retreat, and the generals of Chu and Yan all let out a sigh of relief.

Their gazes toward Xiang Yan were filled with admiration—exactly as Xiang Yan had expected.

The generals of Chu and Yan came forward one by one to offer sacrifice to Lord Xinling. Their weeping—true or false—was still weeping.

Whether genuine or fake, the louder one cried and the more sorrow they displayed, the more famous they would become once word spread.

Lord Chunshen’s death had elevated Lord Changping’s reputation; many people were envious of this.

Now that Lord Xinling had died, who knew how many reputations would be built upon it?

Of course, some were truly grieving.

They looked at the chaotic crowd of mourners and grew even more sorrowful.

In their hearts, they cursed Lord Xinling, Lord Xinling, is this what you wanted to see? Open your eyes and look—no matter how great your reputation, how many of the people crying before your coffin are truly mourning you?

They heard faint sobbing from behind. Wiping their tears, they turned to see a group of ordinary soldiers, heads lowered so their faces couldn’t be seen, crying quietly.

Some soldiers cried while slapping their own faces, as if scolding themselves.

Those who were truly sorrowful suddenly understood—perhaps these soldiers were genuinely crying.

Their status was worlds apart from Lord Xinling’s; they had almost no chance of crossing paths with him. Some of them might have secretly resented him, or believed the slander that Chu’s campaign was Lord Xinling’s fault.

They then looked at Zhu Hai—still kneeling at the front, unmoving, like a statue. No matter how loudly or emotionally the people around him cried, he did not respond at all.

They understood why Zhu Hai insisted on shouting that it was the King of Wei who killed Wei Wuji.

If he didn’t declare that the King of Wei had driven Wei Wuji to his death, people would believe that Wei Wuji had committed suicide out of guilt. That stain would truly fall upon him and follow him forever. His once pure and noble image would be tainted.

Wei Wuji gave up his own reputation for the sake of Wei. But as his retainer, Zhu Hai refused to follow Wei Wuji’s last wishes—he wanted to protect Wei Wuji’s name.

Who was right and who was wrong?

Wei Wuji was dead; who could judge anymore?

After crying alongside the generals of Chu and Yan, Zhu Hai finally rose slowly and walked toward Xiang Yan, who stood in the crowd.

“My lord’s final wish was for me to escort him south to visit a friend. Please ask the King of Chu to allow passage.” Zhu Hai took out a token carved with the two characters “Xinling.”

Xiang Yan immediately felt as though he had swallowed a mosquito; his expression twisted.

Why is it Lord Changping Zhu Xiang again?!

He had thought he was the biggest beneficiary of Lord Xinling’s death—yet here he was tangled up with Zhu Xiang again!

Why wouldn’t Zhu Xiang just disappear like a ghost?

But because he had expressed admiration for Lord Xinling earlier, he couldn’t stop Zhu Hai now. He could only say, “I will report this to the King of Chu.”

Li Yuan stepped forward and declared, full of righteous determination, “I am Li Yuan, Chancellor of Chu! The King of Chu will certainly honor Lord Xinling’s final wish. Please head south without worry! I will send escorts!”

Xiang Yan: “?!!”

Tears streamed down Li Yuan’s face as he grasped Zhu Hai’s hands. “Warrior, rest assured. I will find a fine coffin and carriage for Lord Xinling, fill the carriage with ice, and ensure he travels south peacefully.”

Zhu Hai did not care whether Li Yuan was villain or gentleman, sincere or calculating.

In his eyes, aside from Zhu Xiang—the friend his master missed most—no one else was truly sincere.

So if Li Yuan was willing to help escort Lord Xinling south, Zhu Hai accepted the gesture.

After all, accepting it meant nothing. It made no real difference.

Zhu Hai cupped his fists. “Chancellor, your virtue is high. My thanks.”

Li Yuan smiled in satisfaction. With tears still hanging from his face, his smile looked somewhat grotesque.

Zhu Hai noticed the odd expression but did not care.

He walked to Lord Xinling’s coffin and said, “My lord, it is time to depart.”

Then, lifting the coffin by himself, he hoisted it onto his shoulder.

Gasps rippled among the generals.

What strength!

Li Yuan hurried to send someone to fetch a carriage, but Zhu Hai had already prepared one and declined the offer.

The carriage had been intended for Lord Xinling’s southward journey from the start.

Zhu Hai had come today to inform him that everything was ready—the carriage, the luggage—he could finally depart.

Now the same carriage would carry him south, fulfilling its original purpose.

Zhu Hai refused everyone’s offer to accompany him. He drove the carriage alone, heading south.

He left behind the armies of Wei, Han, and Zhao, traveling across the vast lands of Chu toward the Yangtze River he had never seen.

Zhu Hai had never been to the south. He did not know how far the road was or how long it would take.

He only knew to go south until he saw the great river, then follow its waters eastward to a city called Guangling.

Zhu Xiang would be there.

The journey would end there.

……

The kings of Wei and Chu soon received the news.

The other kings also learned of it quickly.

Wei Wuji was dead. Yan withdrew their troops first, fearing Zhao would attack them afterward.

Zhao, fearing Yan would attack them, also hurriedly withdrew.

Han froze for a moment, and realizing that aside from the two main belligerents, everyone else had fled, also retreated in panic. On their way out, they encountered Lian Po, who had come to observe what was happening, and even lost some of their supply wagons.

Wei and Chu remained locked in a standoff, awaiting orders from their kings.

Though Xiang Yan had said to retreat, Li Yuan refused and insisted they wait for the King of Chu’s command. So Xiang Yan had no choice but to wait.

No matter how boldly he declared retreat earlier, with Li Yuan present, Xiang Yan could not simply withdraw on his own.

His anger at Li Yuan deepened—he suspected Li Yuan was deliberately targeting him.

And indeed, Li Yuan was.

He was a master of political maneuvering. Once he calmed down, it was easy to see Xiang Yan’s ambition to use this incident to build his reputation.

Li Yuan himself could not use this event to raise his own prestige because of the incident with Lord Chunshen. At best, he could avoid further damaging his reputation. So he absolutely would not allow Xiang Yan to gain fame from this.

Li Yuan was very self-aware. In terms of talent and merit, he was unfit to be Chancellor. He relied solely on the King of Chu’s favor.

He feared Xiang Yan—a capable general—and envied his stable, respected position despite not being a Mi‑clan noble.

Li Yuan worried the King of Chu might replace him with Xiang Yan.

The King of Chu received the news before the King of Wei did.

Although the battlefield was closer to Wei’s capital, Daliang, Wei’s generals spent a long time deliberating over the report. Several times they wondered whether they should resign before delivering the letter, so as not to face the king’s wrath.

Even if the king did not punish them, they were disappointed enough in him that they no longer wished to serve.

But remembering their families were still in Wei, the commanding general hesitated for a long time and finally sent the letter, making preparations to flee if necessary.

Li Yuan had no such concerns. His letter arrived in the Chu palace quickly.

He believed Lord Xinling’s death was not his fault—in fact, he was secretly pleased.

Li Yuan had suppressed Xiang Yan, took over the micro‑management of the frontlines, and suffered many setbacks because of it.

The allied army of Wei, Han, and Zhao had originally been overwhelming the Chu–Yan coalition. Li Yuan had been worrying about the frontlines, wondering whether he should swallow his pride and ask Xiang Yan to save the situation.

But now that the three states had retreated—didn’t that mean all the credit belonged to him?

He, Li Yuan, had led the army and driven back the combined forces of three states—such merit was enough to earn a fief!

And he had blocked Xiang Yan’s attempt to use this event to rise further—how could he not be thrilled?

When the letter arrived, the King of Chu was personally refining pills.

Upon opening Li Yuan’s mostly factual report, his clouded eyes were momentarily clear.

As he read, he burst into laughter, tears spilling down his face.

“Good, good—not only I, not only I!” the King of Chu laughed. “Huang Xie, look—Wei Wuji has gone to join you. I am not the only foolish one in this world!”

The palace attendants and alchemists in the chamber fell to their knees, trembling. Hearing the king call himself foolish, they feared he would kill them.

He waved his hand—and soon they were executed and used in his alchemical furnace, just as they feared.

After reading the letter and killing the attendants, the King of Chu issued a rare personal order: all officials and nobles along the route from Chu to Southern Chu must send troops to escort Zhu Hai south and treat him with great honor.

The ruler of Southern Chu immediately issued an edict in response.

The King of Chu even wrote a funeral oration for Lord Xinling.

He wrote that Lord Xinling had humiliated Chu, that he had been a great enemy of Chu, and that because Wei was strong due to Lord Xinling, the King of Chu had no choice but to kill him.

But he also lamented Lord Xinling’s talent and mocked the King of Wei’s incompetence.

I killed him because he was virtuous—did you kill him for the same reason?

After finishing the eulogy, the king returned to refining pills, leaving frightened courtiers behind.

Many believed the king had awakened and intended to rehabilitate Lord Chunshen.

But though his letter seemed to hint at regret, he ignored every memorial asking him to clear Lord Chunshen’s name.

How could I be wrong?

Isn’t that right, Lord Chunshen? You told me long ago that a king cannot be wrong—that if there is a mistake, it must be the minister’s. Only then can the king’s dignity remain intact. 

Those were your words.

His gaze clouded once more, and he returned to neglecting state affairs.

Li Yuan worried for a while, but after seeing the king behave as usual, he relaxed completely.

When the King of Wei finally received the news, the entire world had already heard that he had driven Lord Xinling to his death.

He first denounced the rumors, saying he had only lamented privately out of concern for Wei, and had never meant to corner Lord Xinling.

Then he wept bitterly and sent envoys south to retrieve Lord Xinling’s body for a proper burial in Wei.

He reportedly fainted from grief and went days without drinking even a drop of water.

Some who had condemned him stopped after seeing his sorrow, believing perhaps it had all been a misunderstanding.

They did not know—the King of Wei had almost laughed when he heard of Wei Wuji’s death.

Of course he knew how important Wei Wuji was to Wei.

The clearer he understood it rationally, the more he resented it emotionally.

If a man struggled all his life, yet could never compare to his younger brother—

His parents praised Wei Wuji, his friends and subordinates admired him, even enemies respected him. No one ever seemed to notice the crown prince, or later the king.

How could he not wish for Wei Wuji to die?

But Wei needed Wei Wuji. He could not kill him. And Wei Wuji was too strong‑willed—no matter what pressure he faced, he never broke.

Even exiled from his homeland, he continued to earn fame, causing the world to scold the King of Wei for being unfilial, incompetent, blind!

Why couldn’t Wei Wuji be more sensible, realize that simply existing was an insult to the king? Why didn’t he choose a path that would avoid turning brothers into enemies?

King Wei Yu locked himself in a room, drinking and crying loudly—only to burst into wild laughter mid‑cry.

He alternated between laughing and crying, seemingly broken.

Wuji, Wuji, you’re finally dead.

Wuji, Wuji, how could you die?

Your brother always scolded you, suppressed you, drove you away—haven’t you always endured it?

This time I only muttered a jealous remark in private, didn’t even rebuke you publicly, didn’t take away your command seal.

Why couldn’t you bear this one thing? Why did you choose death?

His laughter eventually dissolved entirely into sobbing.

He cried until he fainted, cried until he went days without water, surviving only because the imperial physicians forced rice porridge into him.

It wasn’t an act—it was real.