Fighting Bloody Battles To Defend The Border, The Love-Brained Empress Ordered The Troops To Withdraw? - Chapter 11

Li Yunfei’s voice echoed across the abandoned village, carried on the wind like a solemn vow etched between heaven and earth.

That oath didn’t just hang in the air—it sank into the hearts of the villagers before him, into the ears of the soldiers behind him. For a long moment, even nature itself seemed to hold its breath.

Then came the sound of knees hitting the ground, as waves of villagers knelt again, their foreheads knocking against the dirt in reverence and gratitude. Their eyes brimmed with tears, their faces worn and weary. In their lifetimes, no one had ever pledged themselves so earnestly to their safety.

But Li Yunfei gently raised them, stopping their gestures of thanks.

To him, this wasn’t heroism—it was responsibility. As a commander, it was his duty to shield the land and its people. No thanks were needed.

He motioned for the villagers to lead him onward and stepped into the village to assess the damage.

What he saw was devastation. Fields stripped bare, homes reduced to ashes. It was as though a swarm of locusts had swept through—ruthless and indiscriminate.

“General Li…”

The elderly woman who had spoken before now had a raspy, dry voice. Her tears had long since run dry, but her eyes were still red with grief.

“They’re not human,” she said bitterly. “Those barbarians don’t see us as people.”

She began to recount the events, her voice shaking as if she were reliving every moment.

“Just two days ago, they came—dozens of them, armed with blades. They charged in like madmen, cutting down anyone they saw. Laughing as they killed.”

“They stole everything we had saved for winter. All our food, our silver… Then they set fire to our homes. And the women…”

She choked on the next words.

“Guifang… she didn’t survive. They tortured her. I can still hear her screams in my ears, and they… they just laughed.”

“They’re worse than beasts!”

The villagers behind her trembled with anger and sorrow, some biting their lips, others crying silently. The grief was overwhelming.

And they weren’t just grieving for what they’d lost. They were terrified of what was still to come.

The few women who had been abducted—none of them could bear to imagine what fates awaited them in the hands of their captors.

Next to Li Yunfei, Deputy General Duan Peng stood with fists clenched, face twisted in fury.

“They’ve always treated us Han people like livestock,” Duan Peng said through gritted teeth. “They drag off our women, make them do slave labor during the day… and at night, it’s even worse.”

“If they run out of food, they treat them like meat.”

The hatred in his voice was palpable.

Li Yunfei could feel a fire rising in his chest. The rage, the helplessness—it was eating at him. He hated that he wasn’t strong enough to strike down these monsters where they stood.

“We tried to fight,” the old woman said, wiping her face. “Year after year, when winter approached, our men would arm themselves with whatever they had—axes, scythes, even sticks.”

“We formed watch patrols, village militias. Anything to stop them.”

Her voice dropped.

“But we couldn’t stop them.”

“They were too strong. And now…”

“All the men in our village are dead.”

Li Yunfei flinched.

All of them?

He looked around again—and saw only women, the elderly, and children.

All the men… gone.

And the only boy present was barely taller than a sword’s hilt.

“How could this have happened?” he murmured. “Didn’t the court ever send help?”

“This is supposed to be a golden age! Six generations of wise rulers, and this is what the north looks like?”

He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

For months now, intelligence reports had praised the Dayu Dynasty’s strength. Even the barbarians acknowledged it as the richest, most powerful empire of the age. A flourishing civilization. The prize they most desired.

Li Yunfei had seen those reports and, when combined with the fragments of memory from his past life, he’d come to the same conclusion: Dayu was at its peak.

A dynasty built on centuries of good governance.

So how… how could its frontier people be living like this?

Even in the last days of a dying empire, this level of neglect would be inexcusable.

The old woman’s voice interrupted his thoughts, filled with cold bitterness.

“General Li, we wish they would ignore us.”

She laughed hollowly.

“But the emperor says we must treat the barbarians with love. That compassion will bring peace. So every year, the officials sent here obey.”

“They take our harvest and sell it to the enemy at a loss.”

“They force our young women into marriages with the barbarians, calling it diplomacy.”

“And if we protest?”

She held out her thin, bruised wrists.

“They beat us.”

Li Yunfei could only listen as the truth unfolded like a nightmare.

“These last three months, General,” she said, her voice softening, “since you arrived… have been the only months we’ve felt safe. Even when we fight on the walls, even when people die—we don’t mind. Because we finally have someone who protects us.”

“And now… we’re afraid those days are numbered.”

Her voice cracked.

“I don’t know how much more we can endure.”

Li Yunfei turned to Duan Peng. The other man nodded—everything the woman had said was true.

It hit Li Yunfei like a slap to the face.

He remembered the founding edicts of the dynasty: No submission. No marriage. No tribute. No surrender.

But what was happening now? If grain and women were being handed over to the enemy, wasn’t that tribute? Wasn’t that surrender in everything but name?

Was this what the great Dayu Dynasty had become?

Was this the “enlightened” rule they boasted of?

His heart burned.

If this was the face of the empire, then it was not worth defending.

But these villagers—their tears, their pain, their hope—they were.

They were the only ones worth protecting.

Li Yunfei fell into a heavy silence. He had seen many battlefields, faced countless enemies, but nothing had shaken him like this.

These people weren’t asking for power or wealth.

They just wanted to survive.

And they looked to him to make that possible.

So, after personally verifying the village’s condition and listening to the villagers’ accounts, Li Yunfei and his men left.

He moved from village to village.

And the story repeated itself.

In every settlement, he saw scorched earth and crumbling homes. Empty fields, looted barns. People clutching their dead and mourning the stolen.

In every village, the same cruelty. The same betrayal.

And everywhere he went, he heard the same orders issued year after year:

Sell food to the enemy.

Send daughters to their camps.

Over and over again.

And now, Li Yunfei understood everything.

He ordered Duan Peng to record each case in detail, to leave no story unheard, no village unseen.

He committed the atrocities of the barbarians to memory—and also the sins of Xiao Mingzhao’s rule.