Dream of the Red Chamber: From a Border Ruffian to a Capital Tyrant

Yanmen Pass, this majestic and imposing pass, is like a lurking ancient beast, blocking the throat of the frontier, guarding the peace of the Han Dynasty with its steel-like body.

At this moment, beneath the city gate, the atmosphere was as heavy as iron, as if even the air itself had frozen—a suffocating stillness before a storm.

Jia Lang spurred his horse and galloped wildly from his residence, rushing towards the city gate like a whirlwind.

As his figure gradually approached the city gate, he saw that the eight hundred carefully selected assassins were already lined up neatly like javelins, exuding murderous intent and ready for battle.

From afar, this group of battle-hardened elites exuded an almost tangible, menacing killing intent—an iron-blooded aura forged from crawling out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, and truly experiencing countless life-or-death battles.

Around them, the unselected soldiers crowded in the distance, their eyes filled with fanatical worship and deep envy.

Jia Lang's previous feat of burning the Xiongnu's grain supplies had already swept across the entire military camp.

The soldiers passed down the story by word of mouth, and in the process, those deeds were constantly mythologized and exaggerated.

Some say that Jia Lang possessed the bravery of Xiang Yu, capable of fighting against ten thousand men single-handedly, and that his lion's roar shattered the internal organs of thousands of Xiongnu people.

Some even vividly described how he transformed into a humanoid Tyrannosaurus Rex, rampaging through tens of thousands of iron cavalry, leaving limbs and broken bodies flying everywhere he went, as if he were in an empty land.

At first, many veteran soldiers in the barracks scoffed at this, thinking it was simply a fantasy.

However, as the saying goes, "three men can make a tiger," and "many voices can melt metal." When many people say it and listen to it for a long time, even if there is still a trace of doubt in one's heart, it will gradually turn into a sense of awe and a willingness to believe it.

At this moment, when they saw Jia Lang's tall and imposing figure like an iron tower and felt the strong sense of oppression emanating from him, they instantly believed eight-tenths of those outrageous rumors!

Jia Lang sat upright on his magnificent warhorse, exuding a powerful and awe-inspiring aura that made people's hearts tremble.

He slowly rode his horse to the group of soldiers, his sharp, hawk-like gaze sweeping coldly over them.

Of these 500 soldiers, 108 were survivors who had followed him in the previous raid on the supply lines and crawled out of piles of corpses.

When they learned that Jia Lang was about to do something "big" again, the group of ruthless bandits, who had already risked their lives, all returned to the group without hesitation.

The remaining men were all elites from the Yanmen Pass garrison, and were also desperados carefully selected according to Jia Lang's extremely harsh and abnormal requirements.

They had long since disregarded life and death, their minds filled with only one insane thought:

If successful, one's wife and children will be granted official positions and wealth, enjoying endless riches and honors, with a bright future ahead;

If I fail, I can always be a hero again in eighteen years. Anyway, I'm just a worthless life, so I'll die a glorious death without any regrets!

Jia Lang abruptly pulled on the reins, and the warhorse let out a long neigh, its forelegs rearing high. His voice boomed like a bell as he shouted sharply:

"Is everything ready?!"

The warriors of Ba Bai all drew their swords, their blades pointing straight to the sky, their roars echoing across the land.

"I am willing to die for the general!"

Their eyes were fixed on Jia Lang, as if they saw in this man the only path to victory, and endless hope and strength.

In their hearts, Jia Lang was the legendary figure who could kick away a heavy chariot and tear apart the Xiongnu wolf cavalry with his bare hands!

To be able to follow such a peerless hero to break through the Xiongnu's lair is an honor that would make their ancestors' graves blush with good fortune, and an unparalleled glory!

Jia Lang looked at his ravenous subordinates with satisfaction, a murderous glint flashing in his eyes, and said in a deep voice:

"Alright! Everyone, get to work!"

"Follow me—let's go!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Jia Lang's long-dormant killing intent erupted instantly, as if a sealed prehistoric beast had been completely awakened, and the stench of blood assaulted the senses.

He then abruptly turned his horse around, and with a neigh, it transformed into a black lightning bolt, hurtling across the city gate drawbridge like an arrow released from a bow.

Upon receiving the order, the soldiers behind him sprang into action, mounting their horses with such perfect, synchronized movements that it was almost unbelievable.

They followed closely behind Jia Lang, eight hundred warhorses galloping at the same time, their hooves thundering as they rushed out of the gates of Yanmen Pass.

The billowing dust seemed to be the burning fighting spirit in their hearts, soaring straight into the sky, even dispersing some of the dark clouds!

On the top of the city wall, Jia Ren stood in the cold wind, unaware that he had been there all along.

He stood there quietly, letting the wind tousle his hair, his eyes blazing as he followed the black torrent of steel rushing into the distance, finally locking onto the spirited young man at the very front.

Jia Ren's fingers, gripping the city bricks tightly, turned white from the force. He muttered to himself, his voice low and trembling:

"Lang-ge'er, your uncle is waiting for you... to come back alive to celebrate our victory."

……

Meanwhile, in the capital city, thousands of miles away, inside the Qianqing Hall deep within the imperial palace, the atmosphere was completely different from the grim atmosphere at Yanmen Pass, exuding a suffocating sense of oppression and deathly silence.

Having just finished reviewing a mountain of memorials, Emperor Qianyuan leaned wearily back on his dragon throne, stretching his stiff back and revealing a deep weariness on his face.

"Osama."

Emperor Qianyuan gently rubbed his aching temples and stiff wrists, and called out softly in a hoarse voice.

As soon as he finished speaking, the chief eunuch Xia Shouzhong emerged from the shadows of the hall like a ghost, knelt gently on the ground, and respectfully replied:

"Your Majesty, this old servant is here. What are your orders?"

Emperor Qianyuan peered through the half-open palace door at the hazy, deep night sky outside, his eyes vacant, and softly asked:

"What time is it now?"

Xia Shouzhong deftly took a cup of freshly brewed premium Da Hong Pao tea from a nearby eunuch, gently placed it on the jade table beside Emperor Qianyuan, and respectfully replied with his head bowed:

"Your Majesty, it's just past Hai hour, almost Zi hour."

Emperor Qianyuan's eyes were unfocused, and he muttered to himself:

"Is it already this late?"

As he spoke, Emperor Qianyuan reached out with a slightly trembling hand, picked up the teacup, lifted the lid, and took a small sip.

The warm tea slid down his throat, but it did nothing to dispel the deep, unyielding worry between his brows.

After setting down his teacup, Emperor Qianyuan's gaze fell upon the urgent military report from Yanmen Pass, sealed with sealing wax, located in the center of his desk. After a moment of silence, he asked again:

"Wang Ziteng...how long have you been gone?"