Volume II, Big Summer Dynasty, Chapter 41: Nine Crawfish
Under the dark skies rolled the thunder. The north wind whistled, producing groaning sounds like a crazed beast. Layers of dark clouds seemed to press down on the ground, reminiscent of a hurricane's force, blinding the eyes. The current patriarch of the Meng family, in charge of the empire's army and cavalry, stood silent as the blood of soldiers surged. He then spoke: "Yan Shizi, you are hereby given the chance to testify."
Suddenly, the wind burst from the sky, greeting the field with a black banner flag that fluttered like fire. It resembled the claws of a ferocious golden dragon breaking through and soaring. A young man clenched his teeth, his eyes red, his face shifting between green, white, and purple. His fists tightened as though a heavenly fire burned in his chest. Yan Xun, worn like an old warhorse yet standing tall like a leopard ready to spring, lunged at the imperial soldiers. Grabbing a sword, its blade gleamed dark red. He looked like a maddened tiger, cutting his way through the crowd as he fought toward the Jiuyou platform.
Screams filled the air, and the yellow curtain of revolution descended, as thick as boiling water in a hot spring. Behind Yan Xun stood Chu Qiao, her eyes narrowed in determination. Suddenly, the eight-year-old child kicked a soldier's legs, leapt into the sky, grabbed the banner, and tore it down. A loud sound rang out, and the black dragon flag covered the soldiers, throwing the crowd into confusion.
"Catch him!" Wei Shu, wearing a green robe, ordered as the banner fell. He was the first to rise, pointing at Yan Xun. He shouted, "This wolf with Yanbei's ambition cannot be allowed to escape!"
At that moment, golden-winged soldiers rushed forward. Chu Qiao, filled with fury, grabbed the young man, frowning. Suddenly, Yan Xun threw his sword, and the crisp sound of clashing steel rang out. A nearby brazier fell, scattering charcoal and oil onto the snow, which ignited in flames.
"Go!" Chu Qiao yelled, pulling Yan Xun toward Zhu Wu Street to escape. But instead of following, Yan Xun resisted her pull, charging toward the heavily guarded Jiuyou platform, delivering high-flying kicks to his enemies.
"Yan Xun!" The wind roared as the child's helmet fell from her head. The black smoke swirling around her, her pale face furrowed in frustration, Chu Qiao scolded, "You're crazy!"
Suddenly, amidst the gleam of Xueguang (snow in the light), corpses lay scattered around. The young Yan Shizi, enduring the weight of the emperor's might and the people's gaze, stood like a brave wolf, wild and untamed. Even the noble Zhuge Huai struggled to comprehend the depths of his rage. But at that moment, the young man's vigorous, leopard-like movements and his bloodthirsty eyes as he fought Western soldiers inspired both fear and awe.
It wasn't just martial prowess—it was a raw, animalistic force driven by deep-seated hatred and an unwavering belief. Yan Xun seemed like a maddened Buddha, relentless and unstoppable.
The wind howled, uprooting ancient trees as though they were mere grass. Yan Xun, his black hair stained with blood, his tired wrists bulging with veins, looked like a desperate beast. Blood dripped from his blade as he ascended the Jiuyou platform, step by step. The soldiers on either side, despite being elite warriors of the empire, hesitated, bowing slightly as fear filled the air.
A soft sound echoed as Yan Xun took his final step onto the platform. All was quiet.
At that moment, Meng, the cold-voiced general, broke the silence: "Yan Shizi, are you prepared to testify before the people?"
Yan Xun slowly raised his head, a drop of blood sliding down his chin. His voice, hoarse as if from the depths of hell, rasped, "Let me go!"
Suddenly, a thunderous explosion silenced the field. Snow fell, the wind howled, and the young man slowly raised his bloodied sword, pointing it at the Meng general. Coldly, he spat a single word: "Leave!"
The clanging sounds of battle began to fade as the imperial forces withdrew. Yan Xun, like a broken kite, collapsed. Blood sprayed across the sky as his body tumbled down the stone steps.
"Yan Xun!" Chu Qiao cried out, her hair splattered with blood. She brandished a dagger, ready to fight, but soldiers quickly surrounded her. Despite her efforts, the young girl was too small, too weak. She could only watch helplessly as Yan Xun lay wounded on the ground.
"Yan Xun!" she called out again, her voice filled with sorrow. Her hands were tied behind her, and she struggled desperately against her captors.
Time seemed to both speed up and slow down. The winds howled like a lament for the innocent. The generals, veterans, officials, and commoners alike watched in stunned silence as the blood-soaked boy lay in the snow. He twitched, trying to gather his strength, his eyes filled with the same stubbornness as a lone wolf. Slowly, inch by inch, he rose again, leaning on his sword, staggering toward the platform.
"Jiuyou platform is heavy indeed," Meng said. "Yan Shizi, if you do not testify, even as a prisoner, I cannot let you walk away without answering to the empire."
The prince, standing tall despite the odds, remained silent. His eyes, cold as ice, glared as he wiped his bloodied mouth. "Get out!" he snarled.
Thunder boomed again, knocking Yan Xun down once more. He tumbled into the crowd, and Chu Qiao, unrestrained, roared, "You fool! Do you want to die? Come back here! Let me help you!"
But Yan Xun seemed deaf to her cries. His face was dust-covered, his hands bloodied, and his mind clouded by memories of his family—his father's laugh, his brother's nagging, his sister's whip. But those voices grew distant as dark thoughts crowded his mind, urging him, "Yan Xun, get up. Stand up. Like a man of Yanbei, stand up."
Heaven and earth seemed to dull. All eyes were on him as he once again rose from the pool of blood. Step by step, he left his bloody footprints on the black stone, glowing against the snow.
The empire's soldiers frowned, uncertain, but one soldier kicked him down again.
From the crowd came a faint sob, which grew into a suppressed wail. The lowly commoners, unable to bear the sight of the noble child suffering, began to weep. Aristocratic lips tightened, and even cold eyes softened ever so slightly.
A cold wind blew. Yan Xun, like a pile of mud, could not stand. The empire's marshal, Meng Tian, who had once killed over 200 soldiers in the desert, stood unfazed. Yet, no one could fathom the force that still drove Yan Xun, allowing him to drag himself back to the Jiuyou platform.
Once again, Meng Tian gave the order: "He no longer needs to testify. Execute him!"
"We have orders from Sheng Jin Gong," another official protested. "How can we let him go without a trial?"
Meng Tian frowned but turned to look at Yan Xun, who lay on the ground, defeated yet defiant. "Do you think he will respect the imperial edict?"
Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats echoed in the distance, and a voice called out: "I come to testify!"
AC Afterthoughts
This chapter paints a vivid picture of a critical turning point in the story, where the themes of sacrifice, resistance, and fate collide. It's a highly emotional sequence filled with intense action, but beneath the chaos, there's a deeper exploration of loyalty, power, and the weight of expectations. The characters are not just fighting for survival; they're wrestling with their pasts, their beliefs, and the crushing forces of authority that seem impossible to overcome.
One of the most compelling aspects of this chapter is Yan Xun's transformation. We see a character who, despite being on the brink of collapse, refuses to yield. His determination to stand, even when the world is actively trying to break him, is not just about physical endurance—it's about preserving his dignity and his identity. His actions speak to a deep-seated belief in his cause, making him a symbol of rebellion against an empire that has wronged him and his people.
The juxtaposition between Yan Xun and the imperial soldiers highlights the power dynamics at play. The soldiers, despite their superior numbers and strength, are hesitant and fearful in the face of one man's unyielding resolve. This fear points to a larger truth about power: while it can be imposed through force, it is truly sustained by belief. Yan Xun's spirit, unwavering in the face of death, reveals the fragility of the empire's control. Their greatest weapon—fear—fails to break him, which in turn begins to unravel their authority in the eyes of those watching.
Chu Qiao's role in this chapter is equally significant. Although physically weaker and unable to turn the tide of the battle, her presence beside Yan Xun reveals her loyalty and inner strength. Her desperation to protect him, even in the face of impossible odds, mirrors the tragic futility of their situation. Her relationship with Yan Xun is marked by a blend of admiration, frustration, and deep care, reflecting the emotional core of their bond.
The atmosphere of the chapter is another important element. The stormy weather, the burning snow, and the roaring winds act as a metaphor for the chaos and destruction of the world in which the characters find themselves. Nature seems to echo the inner turmoil of the characters, with the dark clouds and fire representing the overwhelming forces of fate and war that are closing in around them. The constant battle imagery serves as a reminder that this is not just a personal conflict—it's part of a much larger, blood-soaked struggle for power and survival.
Finally, the emotional weight of this chapter rests on the portrayal of loss and hopelessness. Despite Yan Xun's determination, there's an underlying sense of inevitability. His refusal to submit may be heroic, but it also feels like a prelude to tragedy. The presence of commoners, who weep as they witness the suffering of a child caught in the violent machinery of the empire, adds a somber note to the narrative. It reminds us that in such times, innocence is often the first casualty.
The chapter leaves readers with many questions: Will Yan Xun's defiance be enough to change his fate? Can Chu Qiao find a way to help him, or are they both doomed to be crushed by the weight of imperial power? As the storm rages and the battle continues, the stage is set for even more intense confrontations and deeper exploration of the characters' limits—both physically and emotionally.
The chapter concludes with an ominous foreshadowing that, while Yan Xun stands now, the future is uncertain. His fight is not just against the empire, but also against the forces within himself that threaten to consume him. The emotional and physical toll of this battle has only just begun.