We have fought to the Arctic Circle, and you want me to inherit the throne?

Chapter 1149 The Prodigal Son Returns Home (Part 1)

Li Che pondered for a moment, then suddenly remembered something.

He turned to the garrison commander and asked, "Are there any Shazhou soldiers being held captive in the city?"

The Huan army of Shazhou and the Tubo (Tibetan) had been locked in a stalemate for many years, and with so many battles fought between the two sides, some prisoners of war were bound to be captured.

Sure enough, the garrison commander spoke up: "Yes! Yes! A few old soldiers captured years ago, kept in the western dungeon without being killed... I thought, I thought they might be useful..."

He couldn't continue after saying only half of what he had said.

Obviously, those veterans are not in good condition.

Li Che glanced at Qiu Bai, who understood and quickly led his men away.

About 15 minutes later, four gaunt old men with matted hair and beards were helped up by their guards.

Li Che stared intently, then paused slightly.

The men were dressed in tattered clothes, their joints were large and deformed, old wounds were covered with new marks, and their eyes were as lifeless as stubborn rocks.

Even upon suddenly seeing so many soldiers in bright armor, the four of them were only momentarily bewildered before falling into complete silence.

They recognized the garrison commander, their eyes flashing with intense hatred that quickly vanished, as if they had no strength left to even feel hatred.

Li Che silently got up and walked up to them.

He didn't speak, but simply took off his black cloak and draped it over the shoulders of the nearest old soldier.

The old soldier trembled and looked up blankly.

“Old man,” Li Che’s voice was very gentle, “I am the Emperor of Daqing, Li Che.”

The four old soldiers rolled their eyes stiffly, their faces expressionless.

For them, the name 'Daqing' is probably just as distant and unfamiliar as Khotan and the Abbasid Caliphate.

“Liucheng has fallen.” Li Che pointed outside the door. “The Tibetan garrison in this city has all surrendered, and the road to Shazhou is now open.”

Upon hearing the words "Shazhou," the eyes of the four old soldiers suddenly widened, and a storm of emotions surged within their lifeless gazes.

Their lips trembled, but no sound came out.

"You... are from the Central Plains?" one of them finally asked.

Li Che nodded.

The man asked excitedly, "Does the Great Huan Dynasty still exist today?"

Li Che shook his head: "Huan was destroyed by Qing."

Even though they were mentally prepared, the four of them still froze upon hearing the news of the destruction of the Great Huan Dynasty, and then couldn't help but lower their heads and weep.

Li Che didn't urge them, but silently waited for the four of them to process their emotions.

Then, the leader wiped away his tears, cupped his hands to Li Che, and said, "May I ask what Your Majesty needs us for?"

Li Che asked, "Are the four of you still able to ride horses?"

The old soldier made a gurgling sound in his throat, as if he had thought of something, and nodded frantically.

"Alright." Li Che turned to his generals and said, "Prepare four docile warhorses and plenty of water and dry rations."

"Qiu Bai, fetch a dragon flag from the army."

Before long, a dragon flag with the character "庆" (qing, meaning celebration) on a black background and gold thread was brought in.

Li Che took the flag and personally handed it to the trembling hands of the leading old soldier.

"Take this flag back to Shazhou and tell General Zhang Yi, and all the elders and brothers of Shazhou."

Li Che paused for a moment, then said, word by word, "Just say that I, the Emperor, have come to take them home."

"go home......"

An old soldier finally managed to squeeze out the words in a hoarse voice; those two words had been rusted into his throat for decades.

He looked down at the majestic flag in his arms, then looked up at Li Che's young and determined face.

Turbid tears streamed from his eyes, rolling down his deeply lined cheeks and landing on the brocade of the dragon flag.

They neither cheered nor bowed.

They simply clung tightly to the flag, the four of them huddled together, emitting a whimpering sound like a bellows breaking.

. . . . . .

The city walls of Shazhou.

The lookouts were the first to see the dust rising on the horizon.

Although there were only a few riders, the soldiers were still alerted, and the garrison was awakened from their sleep and picked up their weapons.

Zhang Yi quickly climbed the city wall and squinted as he looked out.

As the dust settled, the silhouette of the rider on horseback gradually became clearer.

The four hunched figures looked increasingly familiar.

"Is it...is it Old Chen? And Zhao the Cripple?!" a veteran exclaimed, his voice trembling.

Zhang Yi was also astonished, his eyes widening in disbelief.

The knights below the city drew ever closer, and the leader, with all his might, unfurled the rolled-up banner and raised it high.

The background is black, with a golden dragon leaping.

It is not a Tibetan flag.

The old soldier on horseback screamed, his voice ripped apart by the wind, only intermittently reaching the words: "Liucheng... has fallen... the emperor... is going home..."

The city walls were deathly silent.

Zhang Yi clung tightly to the wall.

The style of that flag was definitely not unique to the Western Regions; it was a style from the Central Plains.

"Open the city gates." Zhang Yi's voice was so hoarse that even he didn't recognize it.

"General! Be careful!" someone urged.

Zhang Yi turned to look, his eyes bloodshot, a gaze that sent his subordinates shivering and taking a half-step back: "Open the city gates! Let them in! Quickly!"

This is absolutely not a trap; no trap requires burning such a life.

The city gate creaked open and slowly opened a crack.

The four warhorses charged in, then collapsed to their knees, utterly exhausted.

The old soldier tumbled off his saddle and was caught by the rushing soldiers from Shazhou.

They were still clutching the dragon flag tightly in their arms.

Zhang Yi strode forward, and the crowd parted to make way.

"Flag... flag..." Old Chen's lips moved as he stuffed the dragon flag into Zhang Yi's hand.

It felt icy cold to the touch.

Zhang Yi looked down at the unfamiliar flag, yet felt the warmth of his hometown emanating from it.

"Uncle Chen." He crouched down, his voice trembling, "Who...who gave you the flag?"

Old Chen's unfocused gaze focused on his face, his mouth, which had only a few teeth left, stretched out in a way that seemed both like a smile and a cry:

"Emperor Qing... said... he's coming to take us... home..."

Before he could finish speaking, his head lolled to the side, and he collapsed from exhaustion.

The city gate was deathly silent. Upon hearing these words, everyone felt a chill run down their spines.

Come back home?

Zhang Yi slowly straightened up, the veins on the back of his hand holding the flag bulging.

He looked around, his face displaying a mixture of bewilderment, shock, ecstasy, and fear... all his emotions swirling together wildly.

He looked up and gazed eastward.

Dusk was settling on the horizon.

He suddenly raised the dragon flag high, revealing the dark gold dragon to all the guards.

"Gentlemen—" His voice ripped through the silence, booming across the city walls of Shazhou:

"We...we've made it!"

The next moment, the cries that had been suppressed for twenty years burst forth like a flood breaking through a dam.

. . . . . .

Zhang Yi carried several veterans into a simple medical clinic in the city and personally watched over them as they were given warm water.

Once one of them had caught his breath, he dismissed his men, leaving only his two most trusted old captains.

"Uncle Chen, tell me slowly. What exactly happened in Liucheng? What does that Qing emperor look like? How many troops did he bring?"

Old Chen's eyes glazed over for a moment before he managed to focus and began to speak haltingly.

Liucheng was breached overnight, followed by deafening thunder and fire, and a vast, dark mass of iron cavalry.

The emperor, perched high on his horse, was frighteningly young, yet exuded a profound and majestic aura.

"He said... his name is Li Che, and he is the... emperor of Daqing."

“Emperor…” Zhang Yi murmured repeatedly, the color draining from his face.

He paused for a moment, then asked, "Did he say why they came? They've traveled thousands of miles to the Western Regions; surely they didn't come just for my Shazhou?"

Old Chen shook his head blankly: "They only said...they came to take us home."

Another veteran, Zhao the Cripple, who had recovered, struggled to add: "That emperor... had an old Taoist priest by his side, and several generals, all of whom were very fierce and looked capable."

"They really broke through Liucheng. I saw with my own eyes that the Tibetan corpses were not even collected... They were very strong, stronger than any army I have ever seen."

Zhang Yi stopped asking.

He stood up and walked to the window, gazing at the black flag with a golden dragon that was carefully placed on a wooden frame in the courtyard.

As night deepened, the gold threads on the flag reflected the light of the fire.

“Li Che… Li…” he whispered in a voice only he could hear, “Back when the Great Huan Dynasty collapsed and heroes rose up, it seems… there was a man surnamed Li.”

Behind him, an old captain spoke in a hoarse voice: "General, it seems that the Great Huan... has truly forgotten about us."

Zhang Yi didn't turn around, but his shoulders slumped slightly before he quickly straightened them again.

"Summon all officers of brigade commander rank and above." When he turned around again, his face was expressionless. "And a few uncles and elders as well, for a meeting."

. . . . . .

The low-ceilinged council chamber was crammed with a dozen or so people, and the air was stuffy.

The oil lamp illuminated faces, some old and some young.

The dragon flag bearing the character "庆" (qing, meaning celebration) was placed beside Zhang Yi, undoubtedly becoming the focus of the entire event.

Zhang Yi succinctly recounted the news brought back by the old soldier, without adding any commentary.

The hall was deathly silent for a moment, then erupted in chaos:

"Absurd! Even if the Great Huan Dynasty has its faults, it is still the legitimate successor of the Central Plains. That Li family member is nothing more than one of the rebel kings of yesteryear, a usurper and traitor. How could he possibly claim the title of emperor?!"

“We are loyal subjects of the Great Huan Dynasty, how could we surrender to the traitors?” An old general with white hair slammed his fist on the table and stood up, his eyes blazing with fury.

He was the old captain before the fall of Shazhou, and he had deep feelings for the Great Huan.

"Not surrender? What makes you think you can refuse to surrender?" a general in his early thirties retorted. "Rely on the city's meager rations, which will last less than ten days? Rely on the brothers' bows, which are too hungry to draw?"

"Old Wang, look outside! If the Great Huan truly remembers us, where are the troops that have come to our aid over the past twenty years?!"

"The people who have come now are at least the Emperor of China, compatriots who speak the Xia language and write the Xia script! Not Tibetan dogs!"

"Compatriots? Compatriots who destroyed my homeland?" another person sneered.

"Our homeland is gone!" the young general roared back, his voice filled with grief and indignation. "How can you feed the living while guarding a dead man's memorial tablet? How can you keep children from starving?!"

"That emperor at least brought food with him and managed to capture Liucheng!"

Someone frowned and said, "How can we be sure it's not a case of using one tiger to devour another, with a reckoning to follow up later?"

"That's better than starving to death now and being trapped by the Tibetans!"

The debate was heated, with spittle flying everywhere.

The experienced elders were filled with worry and had many concerns.

The younger generation spoke vehemently; the pressures of reality and the impact of the dragon flag made them more inclined to seize the glimmer of hope before them.

Some remained silent, simply staring at the dragon flag with complex expressions, without uttering a word.