PART 10. QINGHAI SkIES
PART 10. QINGHAI SKIES
Chapter 91
Appear incapable
The Prison Shadows of Qinghai
As Yan Xun sat in the dim stone cell within the ancient walls of the Moon Kingdom monastery, the air felt unbearably heavy with silence. The icy draft whispered over his skin, slicing through his tunic and making him shiver. This monastery had once been a place of solemn meditation, but now it was repurposed—molded by hands that took ancient tranquility and recast it into something cold and merciless. Here, men like Yue Qi and his master brothers awaited his every move, watching from the shadows, ready to mete out punishment at the slightest hint of resistance. They were silent ghosts, his jailers, rarely seen but felt like a tightening noose, reminders of his vulnerability and his past sins.
Whispers in the Shadows
The Moon Kingdom’s monastery held many secrets, and its stone walls bore silent witness to the countless hushed conversations among guards, monks, and spies. Yan Xun’s nights were long and sleepless; his prison cell filled with only his thoughts and fragments of distant voices. But over time, those whispers and rumors started to piece together into something larger, weaving a dark tapestry of hidden plots and power struggles that haunted the kingdom.
It was said that Chu Qiao, the mystical figure and leader of the Moon Kingdom, had risen to power not by heritage but by skill and unyielding determination. She was a name spoken with reverence—and sometimes with fear—in the kingdom’s hidden circles. She had led the Moon Kingdom through the turmoil of a fragmented empire and expanded its influence far beyond what anyone could have imagined. Many claimed she was more myth than woman, that her survival through assassination attempts, battlefields, and coups was nothing short of legendary.
Some even whispered that Chu Qiao bore scars from the many battles she had fought in Yanbei, faint reminders of the brutal resistance she had led in her homeland. Those scars were rarely seen, and only the faintest rumors of them drifted through Qinghai’s shadowed halls—gossip traded in secret by guards and attendants who dared not speak her name too loudly. It was said she had fought alongside the fiercest warriors, unyielding in her determination to liberate her people, and that she had risked everything on the battlefield with no fear of death. The faint marks, barely visible, were symbols of loyalty and resilience that few dared to test.
Other rumors spread with even greater fervor, weaving a tale that could ignite hearts with awe or disdain. Some claimed she had once been engaged to the King of Yanbei himself. The two were said to be bound by both love and mutual ambition, each drawn to the other’s fiery resolve and unyielding sense of duty. They were a pairing that could have united and fortified Yanbei like never before. But the story didn’t end in triumph. Those close to the court in Yanbei claimed that their love had splintered under the weight of betrayal—a rift so deep that it poisoned every bond between them.
The story was told in furtive whispers: the King of Yanbei had struck a cruel and unforgivable blow, killing a man who had once been Chu Qiao’s greatest ally, a silent guardian known as the “Master Ice Cube” of the noble Yuwen household. He had been a protector, a shadow that had followed her faithfully since her earliest days in Yanbei. His loyalty and sacrifice were unparalleled, and Chu Qiao held his memory as sacred.
The King’s order to execute him was, in her eyes, an act of treachery. It was said that when the fateful day came, and the Master Ice Cube fell by the King’s hand, something within Chu Qiao shattered. The warmth she had once felt for the King turned to ice, her love to bitter resentment. From that moment, she renounced him, choosing exile and independence over any semblance of allegiance to a ruler who had betrayed not only her trust but also her deepest loyalties.
This was the spark that led Chu Qiao to carve her own path. She gathered her forces, forming alliances beyond Yanbei’s borders, forging a realm where she was beholden to no one. Her loyalty was no longer bound to a man but to her own ideals—a woman carved from steel, tempered by betrayal, and sharpened by pain.
Now, whispers in Qinghai spoke of her as a solitary queen, as cold and untouchable as the Moon Kingdom’s highest peaks. If there were ever to be a man in her life again, he would need to be as unbreakable as she was and as loyal as the Master Ice Cube himself. But most doubted that anyone could thaw the ice now settled around her heart, least of all the King of Yanbei. She had renounced him once, and with him, the tender dreams of her youth. The Chu Qiao of today, they said, was a creature of shadows and scars—an indomitable figure cloaked in a reputation that both fascinated and terrified all who dared speak of her.
Yet, within his cell, Yan Xun’s mind turned these rumors over. He could not decide if he admired her resolve or pitied the woman behind the legend, the one who had known betrayal too intimately, too painfully. And if he were to survive his imprisonment, if he were to somehow cross paths with this woman, he wondered: would he find an ally or merely another ghost bound by the chains of vengeance, someone as hardened and scarred as he had become?
Yan Xun let out a deep sigh, a sound heavy with unspoken pain. Each day, as Yue Qi’s whip cracked against his back, the lashes stung, yet he found a twisted humor in it. With a defiant laugh, he declared, “You may lash this body all you want, but these wounds are nothing compared to the death of a soul long ago.” His voice softened, a whisper of longing slipping through the laughter. “A’Chu, without you, there is no Yanbei. I will endure this torment until I see you.”
Day by day, Yan Xun heard more. It wasn’t only her strength in battle that earned her loyalty. Her uncanny ability to gather intelligence from all corners of the continent made her nearly omniscient in matters of court and intrigue. The monastery’s guards spoke in low voices about her network of spies, each handpicked, each with a life debt owed to her that they were bound to repay with unswerving loyalty. Rumors persisted that she had assassins among her ranks, individuals skilled in the dark arts of deception and death, whose very presence could unsettle even the most hardened souls.
“Xuili Army, Firefox soldiers of Yanbei, the Beauty Army from Liang,” he whispered.
Yan Xun absorbed these whispers with rapt attention, his mind racing as he lay confined. His hatred for the Wei Empire and his own suffering at its hands could not quench a grudging respect for someone like Chu Qiao, someone who had molded her kingdom from shadows and silence. More than once, he heard guards muttering about her, marveling at her ruthlessness, her loyalty to her people, and her rumored involvement in the underworld. She had alliances with the most dangerous factions across the lands—mercenary groups, silent assassins, and informants. With a single word, it was said, Chu Qiao could command the most secretive networks to bend to her will.
From his cell, Yan Xun’s heart was pricked by a growing awareness: if Ra Yue—or, worst of his nightmares, the truth that he was the disowned Fourth Young Master of the Yuwen Household, called Yuwen Yue—didn’t arrive soon, he might not survive this imprisonment.
Each day, his body grew weaker, each lash from Yue Qi’s whip etching scars upon his skin. What was worse was that no words came from Yue Qi, as if he hadn’t known him from their younger years when they used to poke at each other or play Jian swordsmanship and martial arts sparring. Yue Qi’s hatred was masked with indifference; however, the truth was, it was Zuo Zong who had been punishing him—his brother who looked like him.
From a distance, Yue Qi watched, his heart heavy with a tumult of conflicting emotions. He raised his hands in a silent signal, tears streaming down his face. The bond he once shared with Yan Xun, the Yan Prince, resurfaced in his mind like a haunting melody, evoking memories of their friendship. Yet beneath that nostalgia lay the unbearable weight of betrayal—his loyalty to Master Yuwen Yue, who had suffered misfortune and the sting of rejection from the Yuwen family.
In the Elder Shrine, both he and Yuwen Yue had been cast out, their names excluded from family memorials, a testament to their fall from grace. The death of Yuwen Yue had paved the way for Yan Xun to fulfill his long-held oath, one sworn in childhood, now twisted by the bitter irony of fate. Yan Xun had become the very instrument of the master’s demise, a fact that gnawed at Yue Qi’s conscience even as he mourned the loss of their former lives.
Although there were no words from the Qinghai Crown Prince, the years he served under Yuwen Yue’s palm (punishment or rewards) had taught him that this would be the method his master would order him to employ. Knowing Yuwen Yue, he would plan to let Yan Xun suffer coldly and slowly kill him if commanded.
Each punishment felt calculated to break his spirit. And yet, knowing that underworld spies could be lurking in the shadows outside his cell, Yan Xun tried to remain vigilant. Every creak of the monastery’s stone corridors, every footfall and whisper that reached his ears fueled his simmering anger. He could only guess whether these unseen eyes and ears worked for Chu Qiao or perhaps even for Ra Yue, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.
He clung to these overheard whispers like a lifeline. If Chu Qiao’s reach extended to him, if even a hint of his suffering could reach her ears, perhaps he could yet be saved. But his hope was fragile, hanging by the thinnest of threads.
The Pain of Waiting
Each day without word, without rescue, pushed him further into darkness. He couldn’t help but imagine what he might become if left in this purgatory. Once a prince, a warrior full of pride and loyalty, he was now shackled, hidden from the world, growing more haggard with each passing day. The strong hands and defiant gaze that had once commanded armies now bore chains, and each night, as the cold stone pressed against his back, he could feel his spirit slipping, morphing into something else.
The anger within him festered, and he could feel his resolve teetering. What would he become if this waiting stretched on? Would he, like so many other forgotten captives, fade into nothing, a mere shadow of the man he once was? Or would he transform into a darker version of himself, a twisted force driven by pain and vengeance?
He thought often of Shen Jing Gong, of his family, of the screams and blood. Perhaps his memories would sustain him—or perhaps they would consume him, erasing everything soft within him until he was nothing more than a hollow instrument of revenge.
Even as his hope dwindled, he forced himself to keep a tenuous grip on that last shivering ember within him. Somewhere beyond these walls, there was a reckoning. And though he knew he would not emerge from this monastery unchanged, he clung to the belief that he would one day rise again, a force forged by suffering, and meet his enemies face-to-face.
With each passing day, Yan Xun’s anticipation grew as whispers of the mysterious Crown Prince of Qinghai reached his ears. He awaited the arrival of Ra Yue, intrigued by the tales of the ex-leader of the Moon Kingdom and its enigmatic queen, Lou He. The rumors spoke of the underworld, where power and danger intertwined, and of a lesser master known as the Blue Feather Girl—an assassin with the uncanny ability to summon clouds and one of the most formidable leaders of the Underworld Assassins.
As these thoughts swirled in his mind, a sudden recollection struck him like a thunderbolt. A name surfaced from the depths of his memory, and he muttered to himself, “No, this can’t be… Zhong Yu is dead.” The weight of that realization sent a chill down his spine, mingling disbelief with a flicker of hope through deep pain.
Yet with each night that crept in, hope shrank until only resignation remained. No one was coming to save him. His eyes closed, the darkness within somehow more comforting than the pitiless stone around him. And yet, this isolation was shattered by an unexpected presence.
The thin, guarded silhouette of the Wei prince entered his cell, and for a moment, Yan Xun’s breath halted. Gone was the cheerful, playful boy he had known in childhood; the man before him had eyes hardened by years, hiding an impenetrable wall of disdain, layered under the stoic, noble bearing of a prince who had seen his lineage bleed in the name of the empire.
They stood in silence, but the years of broken bonds and unspeakable betrayals began to fill the air between them like a tangible mist. Yan Xun’s heart clenched, but he forced himself to meet Yuan Song’s gaze, his own eyes flashing with a mixture of defiance and regret.
“You’ve been here for days and weeks, yet you sit in silence. Do you truly have nothing to say?”
Yan Xun, smiling sardonically, said, “What would you have me say, Prince Yuan Song? That I regret defying the Emperor? That I was wrong to wage war against those who would see me in chains? Freedom demands action, not words.”
“And what price has that action brought you, Yan Xun? You’re a prisoner now. Perhaps words can lead to peace where swords cannot,” Yuan Song’s voice was calm but distant.
“Peace? Peace is the lie they told you in Wei to keep you docile. I see the fire in you, Yuan Song—you can deny it, but it’s there. You once ruled, as I did. You wanted change as I do,” Yan Xun replied, his tone detached, as if he were merely humoring the conversation.
Yuan Song, holding on to his prayer beads, sought to enlighten rather than argue. “No. What I wanted was honor—for myself, for Wei. And when I could no longer see honor in the court, I left. Tell me, Yan Xun, would you still call yourself honorable?”
Yan Xun paused, his gaze intense. He answered coldly, “Honor, prince, is for those with nothing to lose. I fight not for honor, but for freedom. And perhaps you are a coward for abandoning the one thing you could have saved.”
The words struck deeply, and Yuan Song wrestled with his emotions but avoided the path of conflict. “We both dreamed of it yet chose two different paths to this thing called freedom,” Yuan Song said evenly.
“Why are you here?” Yan Xun’s voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and cracked.
Yuan Song regarded him with a calm that bordered on disdain, folding his hands within his long sleeves. “Perhaps to remind you of what you have lost,” he replied quietly. There was no edge to his words, only a cold clarity.
Yan Xun felt a flash of anger, but it was tempered by something much deeper—memories of a shared past, of days when they ran through the palace grounds as carefree boys. Those golden afternoons felt like they belonged to a different life, a different Yan Xun, one that had been obliterated on the day his family was executed in Shen Jing Gong.
“Do you remember,” Yan Xun began, his voice almost pleading, “when we used to escape the palace guards to go to the Lotus Lake? You, Chun’er, and me?”
Yuan Song’s face softened for a brief moment, a trace of wistfulness seeping into his gaze before he stifled it. “I remember,” he said, voice still even. “And I also remember the promises we made to each other as children—loyalty, protection.”
“Loyalty.” Yan Xun laughed bitterly, his eyes darkening. “I gave everything, and what did it bring? My family dead, butchered by an empire we served for generations. You talk of loyalty while my people lie in the coldest part of this earth.”
A tense silence fell. Yuan Song did not flinch, but his expression grew unreadable, as if a mask had settled over his face. “Do you think you were the only one who lost something?” he asked, his voice as frigid as the stone walls. “Do you think you were the only one betrayed?”
Yan Xun’s fists clenched, but he could summon no retort. He knew what Yuan Song meant—he knew what he had done to Chun’er, Yuan Song’s sister. The memory stabbed at him, a pang of guilt woven with anger that he had tried to bury but could not escape. She had been innocent, a casualty in his war for vengeance, and the blood of her suffering was on his hands.
“You never even tried to understand,” Yuan Song continued, his tone quieter now but heavy with the weight of grief. “You blamed everyone—the empire, the Wei family, even me. And yet, you wielded your revenge like a sword, cutting down anyone in your way. Chun’er was never part of this war, yet she paid for your anger.”
Yan Xun’s face twisted with grief and frustration. He opened his mouth to argue, to defend his actions, but the words refused to come. Yuan Song’s gaze held no mercy, and for the first time in years, Yan Xun felt shame prick at him. His revenge had demanded sacrifices, but seeing Yuan Song here, a hollow shell of the boy he once knew, he realized that perhaps he had lost far more than he had ever gained.
Yet, a part of him still burned with defiance, the hatred that had sustained him through years of hardship and loss. The memory of Shen Jing Gong loomed over him—a massacre that still haunted his every thought. How could he ask forgiveness when his own heart refused to yield, when every memory screamed that his rage was justified?
Monastic Life
Yuan Song, the once-charismatic Crown Prince of Wei, whose charm and strategic brilliance defined much of his tenure, chose a path few could have foreseen—renouncing his title and embracing a life of quiet contemplation as a monk. Accompanied by his loyal attendant and confidant Ping’An, this decision marked a profound turning point, reflecting his disillusionment with the turbulent politics of the Wei court and his search for inner peace and purpose.
Path to Renunciation
Yuan Song’s journey to the monastery was born of the unraveling of his political and personal life. Once a beacon of charisma and diplomacy, he had skillfully navigated the complexities of the Wei court, forging alliances and fostering unity. However, the constant scheming, betrayals, and relentless pursuit of power eroded his faith in the imperial system. The rise of his younger brother, Yuan Yang, as the next Crown Prince signaled an inevitable shift in Wei’s political landscape. For Yuan Song, the title of Crown Prince had been both an honor and a burden; relinquishing it became an act of liberation.
Ping’An, his ever-loyal attendant, was a source of solace during this transformation. Having served Yuan Song through the highs and lows of his princely life, Ping’An chose to follow his master into the ascetic life. Their bond, built on mutual respect and unwavering loyalty, transcended the confines of their former roles. Together, they left the grandeur of the court, seeking the simplicity and clarity of monastic life.
In the serene hills beyond Wei’s bustling cities, Yuan Song and Ping’An found refuge in a modest monastery. Stripped of the regalia and luxuries that once defined his life, Yuan Song embraced the humble robes and disciplined routines of monastic life. The monastery’s teachings emphasized mindfulness, compassion, and detachment from worldly desires—principles that resonated deeply with his yearning for inner peace.
Ping’An, ever pragmatic and adaptable, supported Yuan Song’s transition while maintaining his role as both a friend and protector. Though life in the monastery starkly contrasted with the opulence of Wei’s imperial court, Ping’An adjusted with quiet grace, his presence a steadying influence as Yuan Song navigated this profound transformation.
Yuan Song’s decision to renounce his title was not an escape but a conscious choice to redefine his purpose. In the silence of the monastery’s halls and the tranquility of its gardens, he reflected on his past—the victories, the losses, and the compromises made in the name of power. For Yuan Song, the monk’s path was a journey toward enlightenment, a means to reconcile his former life with his desire for meaning and purpose.
Ping’An, too, found a form of peace in the simplicity of monastic life. Having witnessed Yuan Song’s struggles and triumphs firsthand, Ping’An embraced the chance to step away from court intrigue and rediscover his own identity beyond servitude.
Though Yuan Song’s departure from the political arena left a void, his legacy as Crown Prince endured. His years of fostering diplomacy and unity had left an indelible mark on Wei, and his withdrawal served as a quiet but powerful statement against the relentless pursuit of power that often consumed the imperial court.
Word of Yuan Song’s choice spread throughout the empire, inspiring both admiration and curiosity. To some, it was a rejection of imperial decadence; to others, it was a mystery—a decision made by a man too complex to be easily understood. Regardless of interpretation, his renunciation elevated him in the eyes of many, transforming him from a prince into a symbol of peace and introspection.
Life in the Monastery
The bond between Yuan Song and Ping’An remained unshaken in their new life. While Yuan Song delved into spiritual practices and philosophical studies, Ping’An ensured his master’s needs were met, bridging the gap between the worldly and the spiritual. Their relationship, forged in the crucible of palace intrigue and personal sacrifice, became a testament to loyalty and friendship that transcended status and circumstance.
Yuan Song’s decision to embrace monastic life, accompanied by Ping’An, marked the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. No longer a Crown Prince burdened by the weight of expectation, he found solace in the simplicity and serenity of the monk’s path. His renunciation was not just an act of withdrawal but a declaration of the values he had chosen to uphold: peace, reflection, and the pursuit of enlightenment. Together with Ping’An, Yuan Song embarked on a journey that redefined his identity and left a legacy of introspection and quiet strength that resonated far beyond the walls of the monastery.
The Solitude of Yanbei
Meanwhile, in the desolate halls of his once-mighty fortress, Yan Xun wandered aimlessly, his footsteps echoing through shadows heavy with broken promises and shattered dreams. The Yanbei camp, once alive with the laughter and spirit of his warriors, now lay in unnatural stillness.
Nights brought suffocating silence. The stars above seemed cold and indifferent to his suffering. Yan Xun often sat alone at the edge of the deserted training grounds, haunted by memories of battle cries and Chu Qiao’s steadfast voice rallying his men. That hope had turned to ashes, leaving only regret.
One evening, Yan Xun stood on the cliffs overlooking Yanbei, the wind howling around him like a mournful requiem. He closed his eyes, wishing the wind could carry away his pain, but the emptiness remained.
“What am I now,” he whispered, “without the anger to keep me alive?” His voice faded into the void, a lonely echo carried away by the wind.
He still harbored vengeance, but in its wake, he found only loss, ruin, and regret. The only sounds were his own breathing and the distant echoes of past laughter—a reminder of friendships once bright but now lost in the shadows of unforgivable sins.
Ra Zheng stood at the center of his palace’s grand hall, a space bathed in moonlight streaming through tall, arched windows that cast silver patterns across the polished marble floors. Moments ago, news had arrived with breathless urgency, delivered by one of his scouts: Ra Zhun, his ever-elusive younger brother and a relentless thorn in the empire’s side, had been captured. Ra Zheng’s eyes widened in disbelief before a rare smile emerged on his lips. For years, Ra Zhun’s band of raiders had seemed more myth than reality—always striking where least expected and vanishing into the wilderness like whispers in the night.
“Ra Zhun,” Ra Zheng mused aloud, his voice a blend of relief and anticipation. At last, his cunning brother was within reach. Yet, Ra Zheng, known as the Silver Prince for his intellect and political acumen, understood that this was no simple victory. The end of one struggle often heralded the beginning of another. There were always shadows yet to be illuminated, unseen forces waiting to strike.
As he pondered his next move, Ra Zheng’s thoughts turned to another brother: Ra Yue, the Crown Prince of Qinghai. Where Ra Zheng ruled with his intellect and charm, Ra Yue commanded respect with his power and regal grace. Qinghai, with its impenetrable fortresses and boundless steppes, was Ra Yue’s domain. Their alliance, forged through shared victories and trials, had never faltered. Even when Ra Yue made the controversial decision to align himself with the formidable Queen Zhueje—a woman whose cunning matched her beauty—Ra Zheng’s faith in his brother remained unshaken. He understood that Ra Yue’s difficult choices were always driven by his unyielding desire to protect Qinghai’s people, even at great personal cost.
Ra Zheng’s gaze lingered on the memory of his brother’s legendary sword, Poe Yue Jian—a blade as renowned as the man who wielded it. Its shimmering craftsmanship symbolized Ra Yue’s unassailable strength and his pivotal role in shaping their empire. Ra Zheng admired both the sword and its master, harboring an unwavering trust that transcended even the murkiest of political waters.
“Summon Zuo Zong,” Ra Zheng commanded, his voice steady and decisive. From the shadows, his most trusted spies emerged, bowing low before galloping away. Moments later, Zuo Zong arrived, dismounting swiftly before the Silver Prince. Ra Zheng gestured for him to rise.
“You have a new mission,” Ra Zheng said, his silver-threaded cloak catching the ethereal glow of moonlight. “Deliver a signal to Ra Yue at the Castle of the Snow-White Rook in Qinghai. He must know what has transpired. Go!”
Zuo Zong bowed deeply, knowing that this task required more than speed. Discretion and stealth were paramount; the steppes of Qinghai were treacherous to the unprepared. As he departed, Ra Zheng remained in quiet contemplation. Though he had not communicated directly with Ra Yue for some time, their bond transcended words. The brothers had always understood each other with an intuitive clarity, even in the absence of frequent contact.
The latest intelligence hinted at unrest within the Moon Kingdom, deepening the urgency of Ra Yue’s involvement. Troubling reports intertwined with tantalizing rumors about the enigmatic Mimi Gongzhu. Ra Zheng’s lips curved into a faint smile at the thought. Had Ra Yue finally met her? His mind danced briefly with the possibilities before refocusing on the task at hand.
“Ra Yue will know how to interpret this news,” Ra Zheng murmured, his tone filled with quiet confidence. His younger brother’s keen ability to read between the lines and unravel strategies was unmatched. Their shared bond of respect and faith had weathered the fiercest storms, and Ra Zheng trusted that Ra Yue would act decisively, as he always had.
As Zuo Zong disappeared into the night, Ra Zheng turned his thoughts to the broader implications of Ra Zhun’s capture. This was but the first stroke in a larger, unfinished painting. Reports of turmoil in the Moon Kingdom were a dark omen, and only with Ra Yue’s guidance could Ra Zheng hope to untangle the web of shadows threatening their empire.
The brothers’ conversation would not stop at Ra Zhun, for there was another interest of mutual concern: the King of Yanbei, Yan Xun. Captured and humiliated within the Moon Kingdom, his defiance remained unbroken even as Yue Qi’s whip lashed against his back. Word of his laughter amidst torture had reached Ra Zheng, sparking both curiosity and caution. What did this man hide within his heart that made him laugh in the face of such agony?
Opposite Yan Xun’s cell lay those of A’Jing and Douji, their silence an eerie testament to their despair. The air was thick with unspoken thoughts, each man trapped in his own torment, broken only by the faint echoes of chains shifting in the darkness.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, clad in ghostly white attire. Though her presence had long been thought lost to the annals of forgotten graves, she now stood before them—a spectral vision that sent chills through the silence. Would this mysterious visitor stir fear or hope in the hearts of the Yanbei men? Only time would tell whether her arrival heralded salvation or a reckoning.
The Bonds of Qinghai
Back in his palace, Ra Zheng’s thoughts lingered on the capture of Ra Zhun and the larger game unfolding before him. The Moon Kingdom’s unrest, the enigmatic figure visiting Yan Xun’s prison, and the looming shadow of an empire in turmoil all converged in his mind like threads of a complex tapestry.
He clasped his hands behind his back, his silver-threaded cloak billowing gently as he stared into the moonlit night. The empire’s fate would depend not only on his intellect but on the unyielding bond between him and his brother, Ra Yue. Together, they would navigate the shifting sands of loyalty and power, guided by their shared vision of a stronger, unified Qinghai.
For Ra Zheng, the night was far from over. The capture of Ra Zhun was merely the beginning of a greater struggle—a battle to illuminate the shadows before they consumed the empire. And in the face of uncertainty, the Silver Prince’s faith in Ra Yue remained unshaken. Together, they would wield their swords, their intellect, and their unbreakable bond to forge a future that no enemy could undo.
Chapter 92
Pick your battles
A line of figures in long white robes moved in unison toward a grand, open doorway. Their faces were obscured, adding to the mystery as a massive, glowing moon began to set behind them, casting warm, golden light across the scene. The figures walked through an ancient structure framed by towering pillars that suggested a significant and solemn entrance. The air was tranquil but carried an underlying tension—a whisper of danger and the unknown.
Zhong Yu stepped through the moonlit arch of the Moon Kingdom Monastery, her breath catching as she took in the familiar yet haunting courtyard. The silver glow of the full moon washed over the serene landscape, a beauty in stark contrast to the turmoil roiling within her. She clutched the pendant at her chest—a talisman that had been her constant companion through the darkest moments. Home, but not quite. She had returned, but she was not the same.
“Zhong Yu! It’s you! It’s really you!”
The voice shattered her reverie. A’jing staggered toward her, rising from a pile of dirty clothes that clung to his diminished frame. His once robust body looked gaunt and hollowed, the weight of captivity etched into his weary features. Yet at the sight of her, something changed—an ember of life flickered back into his eyes.
“Is it really… are you truly alive, or just a ghost?” he choked out, as if fearing she might vanish like a dream.
Trembling, he reached for her, his hand hesitant and uncertain. Zhong Yu’s gaze met his, cold and unreadable, her expression unwavering.
As she stepped closer, A’jing’s emotions broke free, his sobs blending into laughter—a torrent of disbelief and joy. He clung to her, desperate and overwhelmed, his grip a mixture of raw happiness and sorrow. His breath came in shuddering waves, caught between the relief of her return and the grief he hadn’t yet shed.
“Ghost,” Zhong Yu whispered, her voice strained and cracked. She had imagined this reunion countless times, but the reality was far more painful. A reluctant, almost haunted smile crossed her lips. “Zhong Yu is dead,” she murmured, her words heavy with bitterness.
A’jing pulled back, his joy dissolving into confusion. Something in her had changed—an unyielding resolve tempered by pain. The Zhong Yu he knew had survived, but she had been forged anew, shadowed by trials he couldn’t fathom. He saw it in her eyes, in the way she stood, as if bracing against unseen storms.
He turned from her, movements slow and deliberate, sinking into the familiar corner of the prison cell he had occupied for so long. A sigh, heavy with sorrow and understanding, slipped from his lips. “I see,” he whispered, his voice like a weary soldier’s report. “You can’t be her. You’re not the same.”
When he had heard the Jianghu spies’ report…
When Douji found only torn clothing by the cliff—he swallowed hard, pressing his palms together to steady himself. “We never found a body. Only the remnants of Wu Dao Ya’s garments. But we buried what we had. I made sure it was a decent burial.”
Zhong Yu’s throat tightened. She remembered the endless nights of pain and solitude, the yearning for familiar faces. Yet, seeing A’jing’s tears and hearing the love in his broken voice reminded her she had survived. Barely. “All for nothing,” she whispered, the words an echo of old wounds.
A’jing wiped his eyes, his voice trembling. “Your death tore us apart, Zhong Yu. And now you return, haunting us.” His grief softened with a tremor of vulnerability. “When we buried Wu Dao Ya’s remnants, I prayed it would bring peace. But here you stand.”
Zhong Yu’s lips curved into a bitter smile, tears slipping free. “I survived,” she said, her voice as cold as the moonlight. “But I had to become something else. The world has changed.”
A’jing’s face darkened, joy mixed with a sorrow that left shadows on his features. He leaned closer, voice lowered. “Wu Dao Ya,” he whispered. “Do you know? The rumors… they’re restless.”
The name struck her like a physical blow, a reminder of past ghosts. But before she could respond, a deep voice cut through the night air from the edge of the courtyard—or was it only an echo of memory, a ghost of the past?
For a moment, standing in the moonlit courtyard surrounded by faces she had once cherished, Zhong Yu let herself feel the fleeting, painful joy of reunion. But even as she smiled, the poison of loss lingered in her heart, a reminder that home was now a fractured dream, beautiful yet forever changed.
The Moon Kingdom Monastery held a heavy silence that clung like fog, suffocating the souls within its ancient walls. Deep in the heart of its corridors, Yan Xun sat in his dim cell, chained and weakened, yet his eyes remained fierce—like the northern winds that once carried his commands across battlefields. The mighty Emperor of Yanbei had become a shadow of his former self, but the fire within his spirit refused to die.
A figure emerged from the shadows, drawing his weary gaze. For a moment, Yan Xun wondered if he was hallucinating, but the presence was too real. Too solid.
Zhong Yu stepped into the faint light filtering through the narrow window. Her face was pale yet resolute, carved by the pain and experiences that had transformed her. The courtyard’s serene silver glow could not quiet the storm in her heart. To be here, facing the man she had once revered, felt both surreal and cruel. Her hand instinctively clutched the pendant resting at her chest, a talisman she had clung to during the darkest nights.
“Zhong Yu…” Yan Xun’s voice rasped, a rough whisper of surprise. “Have you come to finish me off?” The question carried no real venom, just exhaustion and a lingering trace of defiance.
Zhong Yu’s fists clenched at her sides, her heart pounding. Seeing him, the man who had been her guiding star, now broken and confined, struck something deep within her. But that past, that unshakable loyalty, no longer had the same hold over her. Her gaze drifted to the iron bars and heavy chains, then back to the man who had once embodied her greatest hopes.
In a different wing of the monastery, her companions A’jing and Douji languished in captivity. Zhong Yu knew every detail of their cells, every echo of desperation in A’jing’s voice when he had called her name. Her most trusted brother-in-arms, who had saved her countless times, and Douji, always steadfast. The memories threatened to unravel her, but she held firm.
Yan Xun’s voice shattered her reverie. “Why are you here?” he asked, his eyes searching hers for a familiar glint. “Do you still serve Yanbei, or are you just another ghost haunting this place?”
Zhong Yu swallowed, her voice emerging steady but thick with emotion. “Whatever I am now, it doesn’t concern you.” She stepped closer, making her presence impossible to ignore. “The real question is, what will I do next?”
Yan Xun tilted his head, chains clinking. “What will you do?” His tone was laced with both curiosity and challenge. “Show mercy to A’jing and Douji? Rescue them as you always did? Or are you here to watch me die?”
Her gaze faltered, then steeled. This was the decision she had turned over in her mind countless times. To help A’jing escape would mean reigniting chaos, risking everything she had fought to survive. But inaction felt like betrayal. Her heart throbbed with conflict, caught between mortal ties and the cold, merciless perspective she had adopted since her rebirth in pain and power.
“How many times have we faced choices that define who we are?” Zhong Yu whispered, almost to herself. “And here I stand, once more, with a chance to decide my legacy.”
Yan Xun’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. Against the dim, otherworldly glow of the monastery, Zhong Yu stood like a warrior from the Underworld—armored in darkness, marked with glowing, ethereal runes, a being forged from both shadow and flame. Her eyes burned with a merciless light, a vision of power that seemed almost mythical.
Yan Xun couldn’t hold her gaze. His voice dropped, resigned and weak. “Legacies,” he murmured. “We chased dreams that shattered like glass. If you’re going to act, Zhong Yu, do it quickly. These walls have ears.”
She hesitated, the weight of indecision pressing heavily on her. The monastery held countless secrets, but none could see the war waging within her. Would she use her skills to break A’jing and Douji out, throwing herself back into the fires of conflict? Or remain passive, letting the world rip itself apart as she watched?
Zhong Yu closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself feel the ache of memories and the burden of hope. Her decision would define her, but no one could know the cost of her survival or the choices she had made to come this far.
Yan Xun’s voice rasped one last time, barely more than a whisper. “What are you waiting for?”
Her eyes opened, blazing. “I’m not here to grant you the mercy of death, Yan Xun,” she declared, her voice fierce. “That would be too easy. No—I want you to live, to suffer every betrayal you inflicted on us. Your punishment is to endure.”
Yan Xun flinched, but he didn’t argue. The fight left his body as he slumped back, knowing that this ghost of the past had returned, not for revenge, but for something far more merciless: to see him live through the consequences of his actions.
Zhong Yu turned away, the agony and hope warring within her chest. The monastery’s shadows seemed to close in, but she walked forward, ready to face whatever choice awaited her.
Ra Yue’s absence had plunged Qinghai from prosperity into chaos. Once-vibrant marketplaces, filled with the laughter of children and traders hawking their goods, now sat silent and tense. Fear hung heavy in the air, compelling people to walk with eyes lowered, as though the wrong glance might invite disaster. Rumors spread faster than arrows, whispering of betrayals, uprisings, and assassinations, leaving even the bravest feeling vulnerable.
Sensing the shifting tides of power, Queen Zhueje responded with an iron grip. Security forces doubled, the palace gates fortified with rows of guards in black steel, their armor gleaming ominously under the fading sun. Gorge spies, masters of deception, slipped into every shadowy corner of the kingdom. Stories of ruthless assassins prowling the alleys became as common as the moonrise, and each night brought whispers of rebel leaders vanishing without a trace.
Despite the tightening noose, Ra Yue had not truly abandoned Qinghai. Hidden within the ivy-covered walls of a secluded Northern Highlands castle, he studied a map of his homeland, its territories now crawling with enemy soldiers. Sunlight streamed through the chamber windows, the scent of pinewood drifting in, as his fists clenched over the map. The suffering of his people burned in his chest like an unquenchable flame.
Chu Qiao stood beside him, bathed in golden afternoon light. Her presence exuded calm and wisdom, her voice firm yet gentle. “We must be strategic,” she said, pointing to a marked location on the map. “Rushing in will only lead to ruin. Zhueje’s defenses are woven into the very fabric of the city.”
Ra Yue’s jaw tightened. A warrior at heart, he loathed hiding while his people suffered. Yet he knew Chu Qiao’s counsel was invaluable. “And what do you suggest?” he asked, his voice strained with the burden of command.
Chu Qiao leaned over the map, her gaze sharp with intent. “A two-pronged approach,” she replied. “We sow confusion from within while keeping her forces occupied at the borders. It’s about more than armies clashing—it’s about unraveling her power from the shadows.”
Her slender fingers traced routes on the map. “We plant false intelligence—whispers of a rebellion in the East, rumors of sabotaged supply lines in the South. Zhueje will be forced to spread her defenses thin.”
Ra Yue struggled to temper his impatience. “And the military front?” he asked, the weight of his responsibilities evident in his voice.
Chu Qiao’s eyes softened momentarily, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “We need Ra Zheng,” she said. “The Silver Prince. His strategies could turn the tide in our favor.”
Ra Yue’s expression darkened at the mention of his half-brother. Ra Zheng was a legend, a master tactician—but their relationship was fraught with old wounds. “Ra Zheng fights for his own ambitions,” he said bitterly. “Not for people, not for causes.”
“Precisely,” Chu Qiao countered. “But he fights for outcomes. If we present him with the right outcome—one that aligns with his ambitions—we can secure his help. His spies and diversions could be our greatest asset.”
Ra Yue’s brow furrowed. “And how do we lure him?” he asked. “He has no loyalty to me or to anyone beyond himself.”
Chu Qiao’s composure remained unshaken. “We appeal to his hunger for legacy,” she said. “Offer him the chance to shape Qinghai’s future after Zhueje falls. Make him believe that only he can rebuild and reform our military power. It’s a prize he won’t resist.”
Ra Yue mulled over the idea, the prospect of manipulating his own blood unsettling but necessary. “And if he sees through our intentions?” he pressed.
“Then we adapt,” Chu Qiao replied. “Ra Zheng loves the thrill of strategy. If he feels used, we give him a real victory—a triumph that cements his legend. He’ll thrive on that.”
Ra Yue shook his head, a bitter smile forming. “You have a dangerous mind.”
Chu Qiao stepped closer, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Dangerous times call for dangerous minds,” she said. “We need every advantage we can get, and Ra Zheng is more than a wild card—he’s essential.”
Ra Yue’s skepticism persisted. “How do you know so much about him? About Zhueje’s court?”
Chu Qiao’s eyes flickered, revealing a glimpse of something deeper. “Even an heir of God can be deceived,” she replied cryptically, a shadow of past scars in her voice.
Ra Yue studied her, realizing she was far more formidable than he had assumed. Had she infiltrated Qinghai’s labyrinth of secrets long before this, gathering knowledge through forbidden channels and shadowy networks?
He felt a shiver of realization. If she truly knew the inner workings of his kingdom, what else had she discovered?
“Where?” he demanded. “Where did this knowledge come from?”
Chu Qiao met his gaze with unflinching resolve. “From places even your most trusted spies cannot reach,” she said. “From studying the Velvet Prince, your stepmother’s schemes, and the tangled webs of the Gorge spies.”
Ra Yue’s disbelief softened, his curiosity now tinged with admiration. “When did you become so cunning?” he murmured.
Chu Qiao let out a soft, knowing chuckle. “When survival demanded it,” she replied.
Their conversation shifted, the tension between them laced with humor and shared understanding. Chu Qiao recounted past exploits, and Ra Yue couldn’t help but smile at her audacity.
But the moment didn’t last. Ra Yue straightened, his shoulders tensing. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll visit Ra Zheng myself and offer him a deal he can’t refuse. But make it clear—this alliance is fragile. One misstep, and it all shatters.”
Chu Qiao nodded. “I’ll dispatch our fastest riders with the message.”
“And if Zhueje catches wind too early?” Ra Yue pressed.
Chu Qiao’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “We use the Gorge spies against her. Leak conflicting intelligence to play on their rivalries. By the time it all converges, Zhueje won’t know which threat to prioritize.”
Ra Yue finally allowed a flicker of hope to break through the weight of his duty. “You make it sound so simple,” he murmured.
Chu Qiao’s smile faded, her voice solemn. “It won’t be,” she said. “But this isn’t about winning a battle. It’s about securing a future. Every shadow we cast, every storm we conjure, must be deliberate.”
Ra Yue exhaled, his resolve hardening. “Then we begin,” he declared. “Gather the council. It’s time they knew our plan.”
And so, in that ivy-clad fortress surrounded by whispering pines, a plan was set in motion. Not just for war, but for hope—a flickering flame in the darkness, ready to be fanned into a blaze by Ra Yue, Chu Qiao, and the unpredictable Silver Prince.
Ra Yue and Zuo Zong rode through the towering gates of Prince Ra Zheng’s territory, the cold wind biting at their faces as they took in the kingdom’s splendor. The Silver Prince’s domain sparkled under the pale winter sun, an opulent land carved from the heart of the Qinghai mountains. The roads leading to the palace were lined with statues of warriors—silver-plated and defiant, their weapons raised in gleaming tribute. Even the trees bore silver-finished charms, catching the light and casting an ethereal glow over the landscape, making the entire realm feel otherworldly.
As they approached the Grand Qinghai Palace, it became clear why Ra Zheng was called the “Silver Prince.” The palace was a marvel, its walls adorned with intricate silver filigree that shimmered like captured moonlight. Spiraling towers rose high, their domes capped with polished silver that sparkled brilliantly, reflecting the pale light of day as if stars had been trapped within. Massive gates engraved with scenes from Qinghai’s storied history marked the entrance to the inner courtyard, flanked by guards clad in polished armor that gleamed with every movement.
The palace exuded a mesmerizing combination of elegance and strength. Silver lanterns lit the hallways with a cool, luminescent glow, while archways and columns bore intricate silver designs. In the grand hall, slabs of marble threaded with veins of silver covered the floor. An immense chandelier of delicate silver chains and crystals hung from the vaulted ceiling, scattering light in a breathtaking display.
Prince Ra Zheng’s love for both beauty and the art of war was evident in every detail. Weapons plated in silver—swords, spears, and shields—were displayed on the walls, gleaming but ready for battle, like art pieces with a lethal purpose. Silk banners embroidered with silver threads hung from the ceiling, bearing the sigils of Qinghai’s royal house. A serene yet commanding melody drifted through the air from an ensemble playing silver instruments in a side chamber, lending a sense of majestic serenity to the scene.
The Silver Prince of Qinghai
Ra Zheng, known as the “Silver Prince,” was a striking figure, exuding an aura of regal composure and calm authority. His resemblance to his elder brother, Crown Prince Ra Yue, often drew intrigue and admiration from the Qinghai people. With a face reminiscent of fine porcelain, his noble features bore a refined elegance—sharp, symmetrical, and finely chiseled, mirroring his brother’s dignified appearance. Yet, Ra Zheng’s quiet intensity set him apart, as if perpetually assessing, calculating, and preparing for any scenario.
Physically, Ra Zheng embodied the noble and athletic stature for which his lineage was known. Standing tall with a commanding presence, his lithe, well-defined physique displayed strength, endurance, and subtle grace. His impeccable posture reflected years of rigorous training and his disciplined nature. Much like Yuwen Yue, his face carried a timeless charm blending cold resolve with an underlying warmth glimpsed only by those closest to him.
Ra Zheng’s silver hair, from which he derived his title, framed his face in subtle waves, amplifying the intensity of his gaze. His piercing eyes, a cool shade that seemed to shift with his mood, gave the impression of a keen, watchful mind always at work. His lips, often set in a contemplative line, added to his air of mystery and restraint. While Ra Yue’s strength was seen in his unwavering resolve as the Crown Prince, Ra Zheng’s strength lay in his adaptability and keen insight, making him not only a loyal brother but also a highly respected figure within the Qinghai royal court.
The Celestial Frostblade
Ra Zheng’s renowned sword, the Celestial Frostblade, was an ancient relic of Qinghai, passed down through generations of the royal family. Forged centuries ago by master craftsmen, the blade was tempered under the light of a rare celestial event, the “Night of Eternal Frost,” when the stars aligned to cast a silver-blue glow over the mountains. The sword embodied Qinghai’s fierce resilience and unwavering strength, symbolizing the unity and protection of the kingdom.
The tale of the Celestial Frostblade began with its creation by Jianlu Feng, a legendary swordsmith in Qinghai’s history. He forged the blade as a gift to Prince Liang, Qinghai’s first Silver Prince, whose courage and wisdom were vital in establishing peace across the land. Jianlu Feng sought to capture the cool wisdom and powerful resolve of the prince and chose rare materials: silver from the Sacred Silver Mines of Qinghai and celestial iron from a meteorite that fell near the Qinghai Mountains.
The completed blade absorbed celestial energy, giving it a pale, ethereal glow. When wielded by a true Silver Prince, it was said to become weightless, allowing for swift strikes and flawless precision. In times of peace, the sword glowed softly, but in moments of danger, it shimmered like frost at dawn, warning its bearer of impending threats.
The Arrival
Ra Yue dismounted his horse, Zuo Zong stepping down first with his usual vigilance, his sharp eyes sweeping over the gleaming fortress. Though Ra Yue had heard of Ra Zheng’s obsession with silver, seeing the overwhelming brilliance firsthand was staggering. The palace’s dazzling reflections seemed to press down on him—a beauty both brilliant and cold, hinting at grandeur laced with isolation. Here, power radiated brightly, yet shadows could easily hide among the gleam.
Straightening his cloak, Ra Yue took a steadying breath and approached the entrance. The Silver Prince awaited, and Ra Yue knew that beneath the palace’s shimmering elegance lay a mind as sharp and dangerous as any silver blade forged within these walls.
The meeting to come would not only decide the fate of Qinghai but also test the delicate balance between family loyalty and the unyielding demands of power.
When Ra Yue and Zuo Zong arrived at the Silver Lotus Grand Palace, they stepped into the most opulent wing of Prince Ra Zheng’s stronghold. Nestled at the heart of the estate, the palace was a vision of architectural splendor and hidden intrigue. Silver lotus motifs etched into the walls seemed to bloom under the sunlight, while arched bridges spanned serene ponds where silver lotus sculptures glistened like moonlit water—a tranquil facade masking layers of secrets.
Within this shimmering grandeur stood Xiao Ba, now a transformed figure. Once a maid tirelessly serving in Qingshan Courtyard, she had risen to become the Imperial Concubine to the Crown Prince of Wei. Her silk robes, threaded with silver, and her hair adorned with lotus-shaped pins reflected her noble status, yet her eyes betrayed shadows of past struggles. Despite her elevated position, she remained a pawn in Ra Zheng’s game—both honored and imprisoned, her influence as valuable as it was dangerous.
Ra Zheng revealed her presence with calm precision. “Xiao Ba now resides here as the Imperial Concubine of Wei,” he stated, his silver-embroidered robes catching the firelight. “A delicate matter, wouldn’t you agree?”
Yuwen Yue’s expression stayed unreadable, though his mind raced. The maid who had once delivered messages and fought for survival now found herself entangled in politics volatile enough to ignite a war. “If the Great Summer Court learns of her abduction, the consequences will spill more blood than silver,” he replied, his voice even but edged with concern.
Ra Zheng’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Exactly. Xiao Ba is both shield and sword—her ties to Wei are a powerful asset but also a vulnerability. I’ve ensured her safety, though in our world, safety is never certain.”
The two men faced each other, Ra Zheng’s strategic mind calculating every possibility, while Yuwen Yue contemplated the volatile implications. Xiao Ba was no longer a relic of the past; she embodied the unpredictable shifts of power and fate that hung over them all.
“Does she understand the danger she’s in?” Ra Yue asked quietly, his voice heavy with meaning.
Ra Zheng’s gaze softened briefly. “She knows,” he said. “And she is stronger than she seems. Strength runs in the family.” His eyes met Ra Yue’s, a shared understanding of past scars and unyielding resilience passing between them.
The winds of Qinghai carried the scent of wild jasmine and the echoes of childhood laughter. The vast plains and shimmering lakes were a haven for three inseparable souls: Yuwen Yue, the quiet and contemplative boy shouldering the weight of noble expectations in the Yuwen Household in Wei; Ra Zheng, his fiery and mischievous foil, always eager to test boundaries; and Xiaoba, the bold and radiant girl whose smile could rival the sun.
Childhood in the Greenhills Courtyard
Their childhood was a tapestry of adventures and fleeting moments of innocence. Xiaoba, the spirited instigator, often led the boys into mischief, her laughter ringing across the open fields as she dared them to catch her. “You’ll never catch me!” she’d tease, her hair flying behind her like a banner of defiance.
Ra Zheng’s determination never wavered, his pursuit relentless but rarely successful. He would often huff in frustration, “Why don’t you run after her, Yue?” Yuwen Yue, watching from the sidelines, would reply calmly, “I don’t need to. She always comes back.”
Xiaoba was the thread binding them together. She climbed the tallest trees, challenged Ra Zheng to brave the icy waters of Qinghai Lake, and teased Yuwen Yue until his aloof demeanor softened into quiet amusement. Their bond seemed unbreakable, a promise of endless days under Qinghai’s open skies.
The Shattering of Innocence
As they grew, the world intruded upon their idyllic lives. The Moon Kingdom’s destruction during the Celestial Warfare waged by the Yuwen Household against Qinghai marked the end of their childhood. Ra Zheng witnessed the devastation firsthand, the royal family’s indifference cutting deep. The Moon Kingdom’s annihilation claimed countless lives, including its royal princesses: Xiaoqi, Xiaoba, Ling Xi, and the enigmatic Chu Qiao, the Mimi Gongzhu or “secret princess.”
The loss of Xiaoba haunted Ra Zheng. Her laughter became a memory that echoed through his dreams, a reminder of what had been taken from them. Her courage, resilience, and warmth had left an indelible mark on his heart.
Yuwen Yue, ever composed, noticed the change in Ra Zheng but remained silent, knowing his brother’s pain ran deeper than words could heal. For Ra Zheng, restoring the Moon Kingdom and finding Xiaoba became his unspoken vow, his purpose.
Xiaoba’s Survival and the Yuwen Household
Disguised as slaves, Xiaoba and her siblings survived the aftermath of the Celestial Warfare, thanks to Dong Fangyi’s intervention. Their escape led them into Wei’s black market, where children were treated as commodities. It was there that Zhu Shun, a loyal butler of the Yuwen Household, found and purchased their freedom.
Life in the Yuwen Household was no sanctuary. Xiaoba and her siblings, inexperienced and ill-equipped, faced scorn and ridicule from the other servants. When complaints reached Yuwen Huai, the eldest young master, he ordered the children sent to the Redhills Courtyard—a place of punishment and despair.
Xiaoba’s desperation drove her to cry out for mercy when Yuwen Yue, the Fourth Young Master, passed through with his retinue. Her plea pierced the air, halting Yue Qi, Yuwen Yue’s trusted bodyguard, who was ready to silence her. Yet, Yuwen Yue’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Stop,” he commanded, his tone as cold as the winter winds.
The servants parted, revealing Xiaoba trembling before him. Yuwen Yue’s piercing gaze froze her, his expression unreadable. After a long silence, he issued an order that shocked everyone: “Take them to the Greenhills Courtyard.”
The Greenhills Courtyard, part of Yuwen Yue’s personal domain, was a haven of relative comfort. His decision drew ire from Yuwen Huai, who confronted him with veiled disdain. “Feeding scraps to your fish, Fourth Young Master?” he sneered. Yuwen Yue, unfazed, replied with icy detachment, “Perhaps you should join them.”
Ra Zheng’s Obsession and Rivalry
As Xiaoba adjusted to life in the Yuwen Household, Ra Zheng’s resolve only grew. He strengthened his armies, built a network of spies, and crafted a strategy to weaken Wei from within. His goal was clear: to bring down the Yuwen Household and free Xiaoba from their grasp.
Ra Zheng’s jealousy simmered, fueled by reports of Xiaoba’s growing admiration for Yuwen Yue. Though Yuwen Yue’s interactions with her were distant and curt, they held a weight that Ra Zheng could not ignore. How could someone so cold inspire such devotion in the girl Ra Zheng had cherished for years?
Ra Zheng’s rivalry extended beyond Xiaoba. Yuwen Yue’s reputation as a master tactician and shadowy force of the Wei Empire was both a challenge and an affront. Ra Zheng sought to surpass him, not just to win Xiaoba’s love but to prove himself to the world.
Reunion and Revelation
When Ra Zheng finally stood before Yuwen Yue—now revealed as Ra Yue, the lost Crown Prince of Qinghai—their shared past loomed large between them. The revelation of Ra Yue’s true identity was both a shock and a vindication. Yuwen Hao, the patriarch who had adopted Yuwen Yue, had hidden many secrets, including Ra Yue’s lineage and the role he played in Qinghai’s history.
Ra Zheng’s heart warred with conflicting emotions. He had built his life around vengeance, yet seeing his brother again stirred long-buried memories of their bond. And then there was Xiaoba—a girl who represented the innocence they had lost and the love Ra Zheng had never voiced.
For Yuwen Yue, or Ra Yue, the confrontation was no less fraught. His cold exterior masked the weight of his responsibilities, the guilt of his hidden identity, and the unspoken knowledge that their shared history had shaped their paths in ways neither could escape.
A Choice Between Love and Duty
Ra Zheng’s desire to destroy Wei was fueled not only by political ambition but by his unrelenting love for Xiaoba. Yet, as he faced his brother, he realized the depth of their entanglement. Ra Yue’s calm detachment was a shield against the chaos of their world, but it was also a barrier Ra Zheng could not breach.
In that moment, Ra Zheng understood the truth: his battle was not just with Yuwen Yue or the Yuwen Household. It was with himself—his jealousy, his ambition, and his inability to let go of the past.
As the wind whispered through the Qinghai plains, carrying with it the scent of wild jasmine, Ra Zheng and Ra Yue stood on the precipice of a decision that would shape their future. Would they remain adversaries, bound by their shared history and unspoken wounds? Or would they find a way to honor the memories of their childhood and the bonds that once united them?
For Xiaoba, for Qinghai, and for themselves, the choice lay ahead—a choice between vengeance and reconciliation, between love and duty.
“It should have been you,” Ra Zheng said finally, his voice low and bitter, laced with the weight of years lost. “You should have been the one to suffer—to be crushed under the weight of this world. But instead, you stand here, untouchable, while the people we cared for were left to rot.”
Ra Yue’s gaze remained steady, his expression unreadable. “You speak of suffering as if it’s foreign to me,” he replied coldly. “Do not mistake silence for absence, Ra Zheng. I know what it means to lose.”
Ra Zheng’s fists clenched at his sides. “And yet you let her suffer. Xiaoba—the girl who followed us like a shadow, who believed in us even when we couldn’t believe in ourselves—now serves you as a slave, confined to your household. You took her light and buried it.”
Yuwen Yue’s face flickered with something—anger, perhaps, or sorrow—but it vanished as quickly as it had come. “She serves because the world demands it,” he said, his voice like steel. “Would you rather I leave her to rot in the chaos outside my gates?”
Ra Zheng’s anger boiled over. “You’re no savior! You’re a jailer, Ra Yue! You’ve reduced her to a pawn in your schemes, just as you’ve always done. But I will not let you keep her.”
The tension between them was more than political. It was a collision of years of resentment, guilt, and unspoken truths. For Ra Zheng, Ra Yue was not just an opponent—he was a reflection of everything he had tried to escape. The woman who now stood between them all came rushing back with unforgiving clarity.
“You’ve always been the cold one,” Ra Zheng spat. “Always distant, always calculating. And yet she—” His voice broke for a moment before he caught himself. “She looks at you as if you’re the answer to all her prayers. Do you even see her, Ra Yue? Or are her feelings as inconsequential to you as the rest of us?”
Ra Yue’s response came after a deliberate pause, his voice calm but cutting. “You speak as if love is something you understand,” he said quietly. “But love is not a weapon to wield, nor is it a debt to collect. If you truly cared for Xiaoba, you would have known that by now.”
The words struck deep, and Ra Zheng found himself unable to respond. His jealousy, his anger, his unspoken love for Xiaoba—they all felt hollow in the face of Ra Yue’s unshakable calm. But the bitterness in his heart refused to let him yield.
“This isn’t over,” Ra Zheng said finally, his voice trembling with rage and something far more vulnerable. “Xiaoba doesn’t belong to anyone—not to you, not to anyone. I will do whatever it takes to free her from you, from this place—from everything.”
Ra Yue watched him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was as cold and precise as ever. “Then do as you wish, Ra Zheng. Let us see whose convictions are stronger.”
The Weight of Secrets
The next day, Ra Yue was ushered into Ra Zheng’s private chamber, where the Silver Prince awaited. Seated at a silver-plated table, his armor gleamed in the firelight, a symbol of Qinghai’s resilience and Ra Zheng’s unrelenting ambition.
Ra Zheng leaned forward, his voice measured but laced with tension. “You’re curious about my actions, aren’t you? About Xiaoba—and another unexpected guest.”
Ra Yue’s gaze didn’t waver. “Go on.”
Ra Zheng’s voice dropped. “The Imperial Concubine of Wei is here. Abducted. If Zhao Che or the Great Summer Court discovers this, war will be inevitable. And we’re not prepared for it.”
Ra Yue’s jaw tightened. “You’ve invited a storm into your home,” he said, disbelief threading his calm tone. “Yet you speak of strategy as if this were only a game.”
Ra Zheng’s eyes glinted with unflinching resolve. “Because it is. And I need your insight. We’re already on a knife’s edge, and we both know the real battles lie in alliances and resources.”
The room transformed into a war council. Black parchment inked in silver spread across the table, detailing mountain passes and river routes. Ra Zheng spoke of winter campaigns and silver-armored cavalry, while Ra Yue emphasized intelligence networks and infiltration. The stakes were clear: their survival hinged on their ability to navigate both the battlefield and the labyrinth of court intrigue.
Lan Shuyi: The Invisible Spy
As the conversation deepened, Ra Zheng revealed another layer of his strategy. “Lan Shuyi,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “The favored concubine of the Great Summer Palace. She is my invisible spy.”
Ra Yue’s expression hardened. “The Emperor’s trusted confidante? Feeding secrets to Qinghai?” His disbelief was palpable, tempered by grudging respect for Ra Zheng’s cunning.
Ra Zheng’s lips curled into a subtle smile. “Invisible in more ways than one. Her presence is woven into the Great Summer Court so seamlessly that she is seen but never suspected.”
Yuwen Yue, silent until now, leaned forward. “And what happens if her cover is blown?”
Ra Zheng’s smile faded. “Then we lose more than a spy—we lose an entire line of defense. And the Emperor’s fury will not stop with her.”
Ra Yue’s calculating gaze narrowed. “You’ve placed all your trust in a single thread of deception. If she falls, the repercussions could be catastrophic.”
Ra Zheng’s voice softened, but his resolve didn’t waver. “Lan Shuyi is no mere pawn. Like her mother, she was trained in the art of espionage. She has secured alliances, prevented assassinations, and kept our enemies guessing. But even the most skilled players face the cost of their choices.”
The revelation struck a deeper chord for Ra Yue. He knew of Lan Shuyi’s lineage within the Yuwen Household, her mother a forgotten member of the Jianghu spies under Lou He’s command. Yet there was one piece of the puzzle he hadn’t known: Lan Shuyi’s mother had been an invisible spy for Qinghai.
Ra Zheng’s voice carried a grim finality. “Her mother died at the hands of Yuwen Xi, just as your mother and Aunt Furen were locked in the Red Hills Courtyard. Like mother, like daughter—they’ve suffered for the sins of the Yuwen Household.”
A Fragile Alliance
Ra Yue’s mind spun with the implications. His voice, steady but edged with tension, broke the silence. “Then we must ensure she remains invisible. If she falls, so too do the defenses she upholds.”
Ra Zheng nodded, the weight of their shared understanding heavy in the room. Despite their differences, both men knew they were bound by a precarious alliance—one forged not only by necessity but by their intertwined fates.
The shimmering waters of Silver Mirror Lake outside whispered of beauty and danger. As the two brothers stood at the precipice of war and intrigue, they each wondered the same thing: How far would they go to protect the people they held dear—and at what cost?
The Grand Hall of the Summer Moon Palace, Qinghai
The grandeur of the Summer Moon Palace was unparalleled, its gold and crimson draperies cascading from vaulted ceilings, illuminated by shafts of sunlight spilling through the lattice windows. The polished marble floors gleamed, their surface reflecting the intricate dragon carvings that adorned the jade and gold columns. A gentle breeze drifted through the hall, rustling ancient scrolls and stirring the soft melody of jade wind chimes. Outside, a serene koi pond shimmered, the occasional leap of a fish breaking the stillness.
Seated on a gilded throne was Ra Zheng, resplendent in an imperial robe of midnight blue embroidered with silver dragons, exuding both regality and command. Despite his relaxed posture, there was an air of calculation about him. Perched casually on the armrest of the throne was his younger brother, Ra Yue—or Yuwen Yue—draped in a pristine white Hanfu accented with green and gold threads. His inky-black hair, elegantly styled into a topknot with a jade hairpiece, flowed down his back like a silken cascade. While serene in demeanor, his dark eyes held a cold detachment, revealing nothing of the thoughts swirling behind them.
Ra Zheng’s voice cut through the tranquility. “I suppose our work from yesterday isn’t quite done,” he said, his tone laced with a subtle challenge. His gaze flicked toward Ra Yue. “Even with secrets uncovered, one heavy matter remains: the King of Yanbei.”
The golden light filtering through the hall painted shifting patterns across their faces, as shadows from the intricate carvings danced on the marble floor. Outside, the koi pond shimmered, a reflection of the tension simmering within the grand hall.
“Chu Qiao doesn’t know about Yan Xun’s capture, does she?” Ra Zheng asked, his voice calm but edged with sharpness. His silver eyes studied his brother closely.
Ra Yue remained silent, his expression unreadable as he pondered the question. After a moment, he replied, “Why would she? And why should she? Her involvement… it complicates things.”
Ra Zheng leaned forward, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. “Are you afraid of what she’ll do when she finds out?”
Ra Yue met his gaze, his voice even. “I’m trying to understand why Yan Xun came here,” he said. “How did he manage to cross the borders of Qinghai and leave himself so exposed?”
Ra Zheng considered this, his expression thoughtful. “He left his empire for a short journey. But for what? It’s unlike him to take such risks.”
Ra Yue’s voice interrupted his musings. “Whatever his reasons, they must be significant. Something tied to his past.” He paused, then added, “He’s not the kind of man to believe in myths or legends, but perhaps captivity has altered him.”
Ra Zheng’s sharp eyes narrowed. “How does this concern Chu Qiao?”
Ra Yue hesitated, his calm facade cracking just slightly. “I’m not certain how she’ll react if she discovers this. But I suspect… it won’t be predictable.”
Ra Zheng leaned back, a faint glint of amusement in his eyes. “Would you like to find out?”
Ra Yue raised an eyebrow. “What are you suggesting?”
Ra Zheng’s smirk deepened. “I’ve arranged for you to see for yourself. Yan Xun is here, in our dungeons. If you want answers, go and speak with him. Perhaps you’ll learn more than you expect.”
Ra Yue’s expression darkened. “You never run out of secrets, do you?”
Ra Zheng chuckled softly, picking up his teacup and sipping with deliberate elegance. “The colorblind prince of Qinghai doesn’t waste opportunities. Your ‘bestie,’ the Emperor of Yanbei, is clinging to his cell just across from the koi pond.”
“You’re cruel,” Ra Yue remarked, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. Despite his calm exterior, his thoughts drifted to Chu Qiao. If she discovers I kept this from her, how will she react? The question hung heavily in his mind, accompanied by a pang of unease.
A Moment of Silence
As their conversation waned, the brothers fell into a contemplative silence, their gazes fixed on the koi pond. The serene waters mirrored the sky above, only disturbed by the occasional ripple. A single koi leapt from the water, its golden scales catching the sunlight in a graceful arc before it splashed back into the pond, sending ripples across its surface.
Ra Zheng broke the stillness, his voice tinged with an odd mix of amusement and gravity. “The world is a pond, brother, and we’re all just fish—jumping for fleeting moments of brilliance before the water pulls us back under.”
Ra Yue didn’t reply, but his eyes lingered on the ripples, his thoughts turning toward the brewing storm that threatened to disrupt their fragile balance.
Chapter 93
I do not know the word quit
Under the shifting skies of a kingdom brimming with rivalries and intrigue, Yan Xun found himself driven by a sense of duty and ambition as he arrived at the lavish palace of Prince Ra Zheng. Ornately built with sweeping courtyards and glistening turrets, the palace was a bastion of political power, surrounded by walls that seemed to whisper secrets of long-forgotten alliances.
Yan Xun’s presence was met with quiet, careful observation from the guards and courtiers of Ra Zheng’s royal court. His entry was not unanticipated; news of his journey had reached the palace long before he did. Prince Ra Zheng, a figure of cunning and untamed charisma, welcomed Yan Xun with a guarded smile. Yet, beneath the mask of politeness lay an unspoken tension—the kind born of shared histories and uncertain futures.
Despite the princely hospitality, Yan Xun could not shake off an eerie sense of foreboding that clung to the air like mist on a moonless night. Something felt off. The palace seemed to pulse with an energy that promised treachery lurking just beyond the gilded doors.
That night, under the veil of shadow and silver moonlight, Yan Xun was ambushed. Zhong Yu, a shadowed figure known for her lethal grace and unwavering loyalty to forces unknown, struck without warning. Her black cloak billowed around her as she moved swiftly, a viper in the dark, her blade glinting before pressing coldly to Yan Xun’s neck. He had no time to call for help or draw his weapon before he felt the sting of betrayal—though not the sting of steel.
A paralyzing concoction, administered expertly, dragged him into a state of cold oblivion. The last thing he saw was the unwavering, enigmatic gaze of Zhong Yu as she oversaw his descent into darkness.
Yan Xun awoke slowly, his senses hazy and disoriented. He was lying on a plush bed, its silken sheets whispering beneath him as he stirred. Light from glass chandeliers danced across the silver-laden room, which was designed in a style both opulent and hauntingly cold. This was no ordinary room—it belonged to the Silver Prince Qinghai, a man whose reputation for detachment and chilling beauty was well known across the realm.
As Yan Xun attempted to sit up, his muscles still aching from the effects of Zhong Yu’s concoction, he noticed he was not alone. Across the room, with an air of casual nonchalance yet eyes glimmering with guarded intelligence, sat another prince—Ra Zhun, Ra Zheng’s youngest sibling. Ra Zhun’s presence was as much of an enigma as Yan Xun’s sudden arrival.
Ra Zhun regarded Yan Xun with a mix of curiosity and amusement, a playful smirk curving at the edge of his lips. The young prince’s demeanor was one of calculated charm, but there was something deeper in his gaze—a guarded knowledge that spoke of a web of schemes yet to be unraveled.
“You’re awake,” Ra Zhun remarked, his voice melodic yet layered with a tinge of mystery. “Welcome to the Silver Prince’s sanctuary. It appears you’ve had quite the journey.”
Yan Xun blinked, trying to piece together what had happened, yet his mind was a jumble of confusion and suspicion. “Where am I? And why are you here?” he demanded, masking his vulnerability with the confidence he had spent years perfecting.
Ra Zhun’s smile widened, though it never reached his eyes. “Questions, questions… All in good time, Yan Xun. You see, it seems we are both pawns in a game far greater than either of us could have imagined.”
The fate of Yan Xun and Yuwen Yue now hangs on a delicate balance of unresolved grudges, dark manipulations, and betrayals that cut deep. Yuwen Yue confronts Yan Xun with a simmering rage fueled by Yan Xun’s choice to lure him with Chu Qiao, knowing the deep bond they shared. The icy lake massacre, which claimed so many lives, remains a source of raw pain, especially as Yuwen Yue learns that even Chu Qiao’s desperate pleas had not swayed Yan Xun’s merciless resolve. Now, with Yan Xun as a defeated and captured Emperor of Yanbei, Yuwen Yue faces the difficult decision of how to treat his former friend under the crown and authority of Qinghai, the powerful new regime of Ra Zheng’s territories.
A Dimly Lit Prison Chamber in Ra Zheng’s Fortress
Yuwen Yue stands in the dim light of the prison chamber with a poised yet commanding presence that seems to pull the room’s chill around him. His face is as composed as carved marble, a flawless mask that reveals little, yet his piercing gaze speaks of deep, restrained intensity. His dark brows are furrowed just enough to suggest both determination and disdain, while his eyes—cold, silvered with an almost glacial light—observe every detail with a sharpness that could cut steel. Beneath his heavy outer cloak, Yuwen Yue’s form is clad in dark, intricately layered robes bearing the insignia of Qinghai’s Crown Prince, embroidered in shades of silver and deep midnight blue. His stance is tall and straight, each movement deliberate, as if calculating each breath, every twitch of his fingers. A faint scar across his brow, a mark from countless battles fought and won, adds a shadow of grit to his otherwise noble features. With his jaw set in a line of iron-willed determination, he appears both imposing and in total control—a man who has steeled himself for this moment with every ounce of restraint he possesses.
Across from Yuwen Yue, Yan Xun sits shackled, yet there is nothing weak or defeated in his posture. His dark eyes, which once burned with the fire of an emperor, now carry a fierce, defiant gleam—a rebellious flame that refuses to be extinguished, even in the face of defeat. His face is rugged, hardened by the harshness of years at war, with lines etched deeply around his eyes and mouth, giving him the look of a man who has stared death in the eye and found it wanting. His jaw is clenched tight, the muscles taut beneath his skin, and his mouth twists in a bitter, almost mocking smile that barely conceals his anger and disdain. Though his clothes are worn from travel and his figure visibly weakened, the aura of authority still clings to him like armor that refuses to fall away. His hair, once sleek and tied in the style of a nobleman, is now loose and slightly disheveled, framing his face with an unruly intensity. The faint shadows under his eyes hint at sleepless nights and relentless thoughts, yet his gaze remains unwavering, filled with a daring challenge, as if he finds a twisted pleasure in confronting Yuwen Yue, even as a prisoner.
The air between them is tense, charged with years of betrayal, war, and the shared scars of a friendship that has devolved into enmity. Yuwen Yue’s voice is low, each word sharp as a blade.
Yuwen Yue speaks first, his tone biting with anger as he recalls the icy lake massacre and Yan Xun’s betrayal. His words are filled with disbelief and barely contained fury.
“You lured me to the lake with Chu Qiao. You used her as bait—knowing what she meant to me. And still, you showed no mercy, even when she begged you to end the bloodshed. Tell me, Yan Xun, was her desperation not enough for you?”
Yan Xun’s face remains impassive, but a flicker of something—guilt, perhaps—crosses his gaze. His voice is calm but laced with bitterness.
“Mercy? You think I have any left to give? After everything I lost? After everything Wei took from me? I did what I had to. If you think I could be moved by her tears, then you never understood what this war has cost me.”
Yuwen Yue clenches his fists, struggling to maintain control. His mind replays Chu Qiao’s voice, her pleas for Yan Xun to stop, her desperate attempts to end the violence. Yet Yan Xun had pressed forward, allowing the massacre to unfold. The weight of it presses down on Yuwen Yue, his words tinged with anguish.
“You turned her into a weapon against me, just as you turned our history into a twisted game. She trusted you once. We both did. And now you sit here, an Emperor of nothing, with a war of your own making.”
Yan Xun meets Yuwen Yue’s gaze, a faint smile on his lips, though it holds no warmth.
“You speak as though you understand sacrifice. But tell me, Yuwen Yue—who among us hasn’t used others to win a war? You, Wei, even Chu Qiao. She was willing to risk herself to stop this, yet you followed her without question. And now you accuse me of cruelty?”
Yuwen Yue steps closer, his gaze icy, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with restrained fury.
“Cruelty doesn’t even begin to describe what you’ve become. You betrayed your friends, your own people, and even the memory of those who died for you. You took everything we had, twisted it, and turned it into a mockery.”
Yan Xun’s smile fades, replaced by a hardened resolve as he stares Yuwen Yue down, unrepentant.
“Yes, I betrayed you. And you would have done the same if you had lived my life—if you had been forced to choose survival over loyalty. I stopped seeing anything but survival the day Wei burned my family to ash.”
Yuwen Yue’s voice softens. He looks distant, detached, yet his tone is filled with sorrow.
“But it wasn’t just survival, was it? You wanted revenge so badly, you seized power at any cost. In that moment, you became the very thing you despised. You became everything we swore to destroy. You had her love, Yan Xun. You had my loyalty. And you destroyed them both.”
The accusation strikes deep, yet Yan Xun merely turns his gaze away, deflecting the weight of Yuwen Yue’s words. The silence between them is thick, haunted by memories of battles fought side by side and the ruins of a friendship they can never reclaim.
Now, standing as the Crown Prince of Qinghai under Ra Zheng’s territories, Yuwen Yue knows his duty to Ra Zheng and his responsibility to maintain order. Yan Xun, a prisoner and Emperor of Yanbei, is at Yuwen Yue’s mercy. Yet the burden of sentencing a man he once called a friend weighs heavily on him. Yan Xun looks up, his eyes defiant, daring Yuwen Yue to pass judgment.
“Go ahead, Yuwen Yue. Deliver your justice. I expect nothing less. In fact, I would be disappointed if you let a weak sentiment get in the way of your precious duty.”
Yuwen Yue’s eyes narrow, his voice colder than ever.
“Duty? You think this is about duty? You misunderstand. This is about justice—what must be done to set things right.”
Yan Xun laughs, his tone dripping with bitterness.
“Justice. Such a quaint word, isn’t it? You’ve been in Ra Zheng’s court too long if you believe that justice has a place here. You think you’re different because you’re his Crown Prince, but you’re as much a pawn as I ever was. We both know what power requires, Yuwen Yue.”
Yuwen Yue feels the familiar pang of anger but suppresses it. Yan Xun’s words cut close to the truth, yet Yuwen Yue has made his peace with the duty Ra Zheng’s title requires. He steps back, staring down at Yan Xun, his voice calm but resolute.
“No, I am nothing like you, Yan Xun. You fought for revenge. I fight to build something better—something that can survive the ruin you left behind. My justice is for those who died, for the men who followed me, and for the people you betrayed.”
Yan Xun’s defiance falters, his gaze hardening as Yuwen Yue’s words sink in.
Yuwen Yue prepares to leave, feeling the weight of finality in this parting. He looks at Yan Xun one last time, his expression reflecting a sorrowful resolve.
Yan Xun’s face remains unreadable, but his silence speaks volumes. As Yuwen Yue walks away, the Yanbei King is left to reckon with the choices that brought him to this cell, with no allies left to hear him. For both men, this parting is a severance—a final cut in a bond that once bound them together in brotherhood.
Yan Xun breaks the silence, his voice laced with the ghost of their shared past.
“You never knew the word ‘quit,’ did you?” he teases, slipping into the familiar tone of the old Prince of Yan he once was. As if they were back in their childhood days, he adds, “Now it seems our fates have been swapped. I am at your mercy. You could kill me now. But remember—you only have this power because I chose this fate. I didn’t come here because I was lured, Yuwen Yue. This is too easy for you. There’s no honor, no pride, in disposing of me. I’ll just be another pile of shame and guilt you carry.”
Yuwen Yue’s gaze holds steady, though a flicker of something—was it regret?—passes over his features. His hand lingers on the hilt of his blade, fingers tightening and relaxing as if he battles an internal war. In a low, steady voice, he replies,
“Is that what you think, Yan Xun? That this is a victory for me? That I’ve been waiting for this moment to strike you down and finally be rid of our history?”
He shakes his head, sorrow breaking through his usually impenetrable demeanor.
“If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it long ago. You’re wrong if you think this is about pride or power. You have carved your own fate, Yan Xun, but so have I. And this burden you talk about? Yes, I carry it—but it is not a weight of shame alone. It’s the remnants of a loyalty and a friendship you swore to uphold, then broke.”
Yuwen Yue pauses, his expression unreadable now.
“You think stepping into death proves your strength—that choosing defeat shows resolve. But this, too, is easy, Yan Xun. It takes more to live—to own what you’ve done and face the ruins you’ve created. If you want to prove something, then live. Make amends for it.”
Yan Xun’s face hardens, his taunting smirk fading into something closer to anger—or perhaps pain. He looks away, his voice dropping as he speaks.
“You really think redemption is possible? After everything that’s been lost?”
“Perhaps not redemption,” Yuwen Yue replies, his voice softening. “But maybe peace. If not for you, then for those who follow in the wake of your actions. To live is a greater challenge than you realize, Yan Xun. Choose that path, if you truly seek honor.”
A tense silence settles between them, echoes of years of history, betrayal, and loyalty woven into the quiet. Each man stands at a crossroads shaped by their past and bound by what lies between them.
“I never wanted this, Yan Xun,” Yuwen Yue murmurs. “I never wanted to see you brought this low. But you gave me no choice. I will do what must be done—for the people you once swore to protect and then abandoned. Farewell, Yan Xun.”
The capture of Yan Xun, King of Yanbei, by the Crown Prince of Qinghai, Ra Yue (Yuwen Yue), has sent shockwaves across the territories. Distant tribes, remote villages, and even the hidden enclaves of Qinghai’s mountainous borders buzz with disbelief and rumors. The formidable King of Yanbei, known for his unbreakable spirit and armies of loyal warriors, is now a prisoner. Many find it inconceivable that such a powerful leader could be captured so easily. Whispers spread that Yan Xun’s journey to Qinghai was not for war or vengeance but to pursue a legendary figure—the elusive Moon Princess, or Mimi Gongzhu, of the mythical Moon Kingdom.
Rumors of Yan Xun’s True Intentions
As word of Yan Xun’s capture travels, the initial shock gives way to wild speculation. Some claim that his journey was not an act of recklessness but a quest fueled by an all-consuming desire for answers. Stories of the Moon Kingdom have long been whispered across the lands, and the mention of the Mimi Gongzhu—a figure cloaked in mystery, beauty, and power—only deepens the intrigue. It is said she holds ancient secrets capable of reshaping the balance of power. For Yan Xun, whose life has been marked by betrayal, war, and tragedy, the chance to find the Moon Princess and her truths may have been irresistible.
Despite knowing the perils of venturing into Qinghai, Yan Xun pressed forward, understanding that his journey bordered on suicide. With every step deeper into his enemy’s territory, he moved farther from the safety of Yanbei and closer to the heart of danger. Yet, the prospect of unearthing the truth about Qinghai’s hidden power and the existence of the Moon Kingdom sharpened his resolve.
Locals in Qinghai, who witnessed his arrival, spoke with awe and bewilderment. To them, it seemed that Yan Xun had forsaken his throne and armies, as though he no longer cared for survival or conquest. Some suggested his priorities had shifted—that he sought something greater than power, something deeper: perhaps a final truth.
Within Ra Zheng’s fortress, rumors about Yan Xun’s motives spread like wildfire. Some believe he seeks redemption for past wrongs, while others argue that he is on a desperate quest to uncover his family’s secret history—one possibly tied to the Moon Kingdom itself. Ra Yue, Crown Prince of Qinghai, listens to these rumors with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. He knows Yan Xun’s capture was not a failed mission but a deliberate and calculated act.
Yan Xun’s Reflection
In the quiet solitude of his cell, Yan Xun reflects on his journey with a calm acceptance. He had known the risks, and none of it mattered in the face of his determination to reach the Moon Kingdom. He is resolute in finding the Mimi Gongzhu—not only for her rumored wisdom but because he believes her existence holds the key to truths that could unravel the betrayals he has endured.
Captured but not defeated, Yan Xun remains defiant. His thoughts linger on his quest—a pilgrimage, not a conquest. It is a personal odyssey to confront his past and seek a truth that no throne could offer. For Yan Xun, the journey to the Moon Kingdom was worth any price, even the loss of his empire. If it meant facing his mortality, so be it.
The War Chamber
The war chamber is dimly lit, its walls adorned with maps and banners of Qinghai’s vast territories, ruled with unwavering authority by Ra Zheng. Yuwen Yue stands opposite Ra Zheng, his face stern and contemplative, hands resting on the edge of a central table etched with the borders of every kingdom under Qinghai’s influence.
“Yan Xun is no ordinary prisoner,” Yuwen Yue begins, his voice edged with cold certainty. “His death would be a warning, true, but his influence extends beyond borders. Killing him could ignite unrest throughout Yanbei and beyond. Many still see him as a hero.”
Ra Zheng listens, studying his Crown Prince’s conflicted expression. “You’re right. His death would be clean, perhaps too easy. But letting him live… could be even more dangerous. He’s clever, defiant, and has a way of inspiring those around him—even if it’s only through hatred.”
Ra Zheng leans back, his sharp gaze unwavering. “I see your conflict, Yuwen Yue. You no longer hold any friendship for this man, but you understand his worth. It’s clear he’s willing to die, which makes him unpredictable. Perhaps… we take a different approach. If he expects punishment, we give him the opposite.”
Yuwen Yue raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “You mean… let him live?”
“More than that,” Ra Zheng replies. “We keep him alive as a witness to what we build—a new alliance that won’t bow to his tactics of war and revenge. If he sees Qinghai grow stronger and more unified under our rule, his power will wither. He’ll live to see his own irrelevance.”
Yuwen Yue considers this, his gaze thoughtful. The irony is potent: Yan Xun, a man who once commanded through sheer might, would now live to watch his legacy crumble from within the heart of Qinghai.
After a pause, Yuwen Yue nods. “So we use him as an example—a relic of the past, a man who embodies the bloody ways Qinghai has risen beyond.”
Ra Zheng’s eyes gleam with quiet satisfaction. “Precisely. And this… may prove a more poetic end for him. Let him live and learn that his time is over. He is no longer the force he once was. Each day, he’ll watch his vision fade as Qinghai’s future unfolds without him.”
Chu Qiao’s Encounter at the Moon Kingdom Monastery
In the quiet seclusion of the Moon Kingdom Monastery, nestled high among mist-cloaked peaks and ancient trees, Chu Qiao searches for answers about Yan Xun’s fate. The air is heavy with the scent of incense and the faint hum of chanting monks, creating a serene contrast to the turmoil within her. Clad in a deep indigo Hanfu of finely woven fabric, layered with a dark-gray leather vest embossed with intricate designs, Chu Qiao moves with quiet purpose. Every detail of her attire speaks of resilience and her ties to the past and present—a silver-threaded edge on her vest, a dagger at her belt, and a strip of blue-gray silk swaying at her side, a silent connection to Yuwen Yue.
As she walks through the monastery’s stone corridors, her thoughts remain on Yan Xun’s capture and the shadows that now loom over his legacy. Reaching the main courtyard, she freezes as she spots two familiar figures: Yuan Song and Ping’an. Both longtime allies, their unexpected presence fills her with a mixture of hope and apprehension.
A Reunion with Old Allies
Chu Qiao approaches, her voice tinged with urgency. “Yuan Song, Ping’an… I didn’t expect to find you here. Tell me—do you know anything about what happened to Yan Xun?”
Yuan Song, ever composed, hesitates, exchanging a quick glance with Ping’an before responding. “We’ve heard fragments of the truth. Yan Xun’s capture wasn’t solely Qinghai’s doing. There are whispers of betrayal from within his own ranks. Some say he was warned about the Moon Kingdom… perhaps even led here deliberately.”
Ping’an adds hesitantly, his youthful energy tempered by the weight of his words, “Some say those closest to him grew disillusioned. That his anger and thirst for revenge finally drove them to act.”
Chu Qiao’s fists clench as she absorbs the bitter truth. The idea of betrayal from within cuts deeply, but before she can press further, footsteps echo from the monastery’s entrance. Turning, she sees a shadowed figure step forward—Zhong Yu, a former ally now at the center of her questions.
Confronting Zhong Yu
Chu Qiao’s voice is taut with anger as she addresses Zhong Yu. “Why did you do it? Why ambush Yan Xun, of all people? You stood beside him through everything. How could you betray him now?”
Zhong Yu’s expression remains unreadable, but her eyes betray a flicker of pain. “I fought with Yan Xun because I believed in his vision. But that vision has changed, Chu Qiao. He’s consumed by a hatred that destroys everything in its path. He’s become a danger—to himself and to everyone around him.”
Chu Qiao steps closer, disbelief and hurt evident in her tone. “And that justifies betraying him? He was your leader, your ally. You could have helped him, reminded him of who he was. Instead, you turned against him.”
Zhong Yu’s voice sharpens defensively. “Do you think I didn’t try? I begged him to turn back before he lost himself completely. But he refused to listen. Yan Xun sees nothing but revenge now. He’s willing to sacrifice anyone, even those who care for him, to fuel his rage. I did what I thought was necessary—for the greater good.”
Chu Qiao’s expression softens, her anger giving way to sorrow. “But by doing this, Zhong Yu, you’ve become the very thing you despise. Betrayal only breeds more betrayal. Yan Xun may have lost his way, but he deserved better from those who stood by him.”
Zhong Yu’s composure cracks. Her voice drops to a whisper. “Perhaps you’re right, Chu Qiao. But when someone loses themselves so completely, they leave us no choice.”
A Shared Grief
The silence between them is thick with grief and the complexity of loyalty. After a moment, Zhong Yu steps back into the shadows, leaving Chu Qiao with Yuan Song and Ping’an. Her expression, hardened by newfound understanding, reflects both sadness and determination.
“Yan Xun isn’t just fighting for a throne anymore,” Chu Qiao says quietly. “He’s fighting ghosts—his own and those he’s lost. That fight has turned him into someone none of us recognize.”
Yuan Song nods solemnly. “Sometimes, the past is a stronger prison than any cell. Yan Xun chose a path that could only lead to his downfall. Those who loved him tried to save him, but you can’t save a man who refuses to be saved.”
Ping’an, wide-eyed and hopeful, steps forward. “But maybe… he can still change. Maybe, in captivity, he’ll finally see what he’s lost.”
Chu Qiao’s gaze softens as she looks at Ping’an. “If there’s even a chance, then I have to try. Yan Xun may be broken, but he deserves the chance to find peace—even if it’s in a prison cell.”
A Warrior’s Resolve
Chu Qiao’s appearance reflects the battles she has fought and the determination that drives her forward. Her dark eyes, deeply expressive, carry both the weight of her losses and the fire of her purpose. The faint wisps of hair that fall loose from her braid frame her face, softened yet weathered by years of hardship.
Standing in the Moon Kingdom Monastery, surrounded by old allies and the burdens of the past, Chu Qiao steels herself for what lies ahead. Despite the betrayals and the bitterness of Yan Xun’s downfall, she refuses to abandon him. In her heart, she clings to the hope that, even in captivity, Yan Xun might find a way to confront his demons—and perhaps, one day, reclaim the part of himself that once inspired loyalty and love.
Wei Seventh Prince’s Sentence and Manual Labor in the Freedom Community
The absence of the Wei princes, Yuan Song and Yuan Che, has left a noticeable void in Wei’s leadership. Both are in vastly different yet equally unusual circumstances that prevent them from returning to Wei’s protection. Yuan Song, the philosopher prince, remains secluded in the mystical Moon Kingdom Monastery, seeking answers to questions that have long consumed him. Meanwhile, Yuan Che, the Seventh Prince, serves a sentence in the Freedom Community, an unconventional and humbling punishment for destroying their storehouses in a misguided act of aggression. However, this “punishment” is not without its complexities: Yuan Che is learning valuable lessons about humility and labor, albeit under the watchful eyes of the very people he once wronged.
Yuwen Yue, the strategist and Crown Prince of Qinghai, saw an opportunity in Yuan Che’s predicament and brokered a deal with the Wei generals guarding the community’s perimeter. In exchange for their commitment to protect and respect the oppressed slaves, Yuwen Yue promised to gradually secure the freedom of each general, batch by batch, leaving Yuan Che as the final prince under their “protection.” This arrangement not only ensures that the Wei generals and the slaves work side by side in relative harmony but also fosters a growing sense of mutual respect between former oppressors and the oppressed—something that strengthens with each passing day.
Yuan Che’s Labor and Transformation
Within the rustic confines of the Freedom Community, Yuan Che has been assigned to manual labor as part of his sentence. He works alongside the slaves, under the unyielding supervision of the White Robinhood—a local leader revered for his defiance against Wei’s oppressive practices. Although technically free to leave, Yuan Che remains, burdened by the weight of his actions and the expectations of those around him.
The White Robinhood, a tall, weathered man with sharp eyes hardened by years of struggle, keeps a watchful eye on Yuan Che’s progress.
“Seventh Prince,” he says, his voice steady but firm, “You’ve broken our stores and stolen our grain. You will earn back every ounce you took—with your hands. Think of this not as punishment, but as penance.”
Yuan Che, still petulant and unused to physical labor, nods in reluctant understanding. His once-arrogant posture has softened, and there is a subtle humility in his eyes.
“I understand,” he replies. “I’ll repay what I’ve taken. It’s only fair.”
Though he grumbles at times, Yuan Che’s attitude begins to change. The sense of camaraderie among the slaves gradually erodes his defenses, teaching him humility through shared labor and hard-won respect.
Yuwen Yue’s Proposal and the Generals’ Transformation
Meanwhile, Yuwen Yue, known for his sharp mind and ability to read people, approaches the Wei generals guarding the Freedom Community. Recognizing the growing bond between the generals and the slaves they once oppressed, Yuwen Yue offers a carefully calculated proposal.
“If you fulfill your duty and serve the Freedom Community as equals—protecting and working alongside them—I will ensure that each of you is freed, gradually and honorably. The better you serve, the faster your freedom will come. In time, only Yuan Che will remain.”
The generals, who had once viewed the slaves with disdain, are surprised by the offer. The chance for freedom without bloodshed is something they had not dared hope for.
General Xue, scratching his head, speaks up. “So you’re saying we earn our freedom by standing guard and serving alongside them? And we gain nothing in exchange?”
Yuwen Yue, offering a slight smile, responds, “You gain respect, General. And life—a life earned, not taken. Think of it as rebuilding Wei, from the heart outward.”
The generals exchange glances, a ripple of understanding passing between them. Yuwen Yue’s arrangement promises a future they had thought impossible—a future of honor, earned not through titles, but through trust and shared labor. With this new purpose, the Wei generals dedicate themselves to the Freedom Community, finding themselves unexpectedly fond of the people they once viewed as inferiors.
The Changing Atmosphere in the Community
In the days that follow, the Wei generals and the slave people toil side by side, sharing meals and hardships. The generals begin to learn about each slave’s story—their resilience and their past struggles. The sense of superiority they once held begins to crumble, replaced by admiration and camaraderie. They find joy in small victories—a good harvest, a well-repaired storehouse, laughter over a shared meal.
One evening, as they sit around a campfire, one of the generals speaks up.
General Zhao, breaking the silence, says, “I never thought I’d see the day when I’d owe my life to the people we were sworn to control. But here I am. It seems respect isn’t given; it’s earned.”
A former slave, now a general in Wei’s military, Mei, nods solemnly. His face is serious, yet understanding. “And trust isn’t owed, General. It’s built. One day at a time.”
Yuan Che listens, stirred by their words. Though he remains under supervision, he begins to see the Freedom Community not as a punishment but as a place where healing and change are possible. He senses his own transformation—a breaking of the chains of privilege, replaced by something more real and grounding.
Back in Yanbei: Xiao Yu’s Reflections on the Wei Generals and Yuan Che’s Enforced Stay in the Freedom Community
In Yanbei, Xiao Yu hears of the surprising developments surrounding the Wei generals and Yuan Che’s enforced stay in the Freedom Community. A soft smile plays on her lips as she considers the irony of it all: powerful generals of Wei, now serving as protectors of the very people they once oppressed. The Seventh Prince, once arrogant and blind to the suffering of others, now humbled in his strange “captivity.”
She shares her thoughts with Tao Ye, her trusted confidant.
“It seems Yuwen Yue has played his hand well. Those generals who once upheld Wei’s power now live as protectors, willingly or not. And Yuan Che… I imagine he’s finally learning the meaning of service.”
Tao Ye smiles, amused.
“Perhaps this arrangement will plant a new seed of respect and cooperation in Wei’s future. Yuwen Yue may have given them a second chance—not only at freedom but at redemption.”
“If nothing else, he’s given them the chance to repay what they owe. It’s a beginning, Tao Ye. And perhaps a beginning is all they need.”
Political Tensions, Emperor’s Doubts, and the Unresolved Legacy of Yuwen Yue
The political landscape of Wei grows ever more unstable as multiple fronts demand the Emperor’s attention. News arrives from the Xiaoqi camp, where Prince Yuan Yang claims a decisive victory in defending the territory against Yanbei’s military forces and the fierce Xuili Army. He reports that Yuan Che, previously stationed there, failed to manage the region’s military resources and supplies, painting himself as the savior of the Xiaoqi camp. Yuan Yang’s carefully crafted report emphasizes his own success in fending off Yanbei’s forces and portrays the families and villages of the region as innocent victims of Yanbei’s aggression. He calls upon the Emperor to offer aid to rebuild the camp’s ruins, subtly shifting the Emperor’s attention to his supposed valor and loyalty.
Meanwhile, Yuan Song’s absence, remaining in the Moon Kingdom, and Yuan Che’s stay with the Freedom Community leave the Wei protectorate states vulnerable. As reports from various fronts reach the Emperor’s palace, each retelling of events differs in tone and detail, leading to confusion and frustration. One day, unable to hold back his anger, the Emperor throws the reports across his marble floor, their inconsistent narratives underscoring his waning trust in his commanders and their ability to report with clarity and truth. Amid the chaos, one thought gnaws at him: the loss of his trusted advisor and the one man who could bring order and honesty to these reports—the lost heir to the Eyes of God, Yuwen Yue.
The Emperor, who secretly harbors hope that Yuwen Yue may still be alive, begins to reconsider the legacy of the Yuwen family. Privately, he summons Yuwen Gao, Yuwen Yue’s uncle and the current head of the Yuwen household, to reopen the investigation into Yuwen Yue’s disappearance.
Yuan Yang’s Framing of Events
In his camp near the Xiaoqi frontiers, Yuan Yang prepares his report to the Emperor, carefully framing his words to highlight his achievements and subtly disparage Yuan Song and Yuan Che. With a keen sense of strategy, he chooses each phrase to cast himself as Wei’s reliable protector.
“Your Majesty, under my watch, the Xiaoqi camp has been defended from Yanbei’s relentless attacks. The villagers and families of our frontiers owe their lives to Wei’s swift response. I humbly request aid to restore Xiaoqi to its former strength, and I assure you that, with continued support, our forces can prevent further devastation.”
When the Emperor reads Yuan Yang’s report, he frowns, sensing the embellished tone but unsure of the exact truth. The more reports he receives, each filled with conflicting accounts, the less he trusts the commanders in charge. He feels an acute need for clarity—an honest perspective untainted by self-interest. His thoughts turn to Yuwen Yue, whose accuracy and integrity in intelligence-gathering were legendary.
In a rare moment of solitude, the Emperor sits in his throne room, staring into the silent emptiness, wishing for a return of the Eyes of God.
The Emperor’s Search for Clarity
Driven by a growing suspicion, the Emperor summons Yuwen Gao, who enters the throne room with a respectful bow. Aware of the risks, the Emperor speaks cautiously, his voice tinged with longing and frustration.
“Yuwen Gao, I need clarity, and there is only one man I ever truly trusted with that task. If there’s even a sliver of hope that Yuwen Yue is alive, I want it pursued. I will not punish him. If he returns, I will celebrate his return as a gift to Wei.”
Yuwen Gao, despite his own suspicions that Yuwen Yue might have survived, answers with carefully measured words.
“Your Majesty, it would be an honor to reopen this case, yet I must caution you—the last investigation yielded nothing but disappointment. Our attempts to recover his body led us to desolate places, and the traces of his survival were few, almost invisible. However, I shall obey and conduct a thorough search once more.”
Despite his response, Yuwen Gao internally debates. He believes, deep down, that Yuwen Yue may indeed be alive and living in secrecy to protect himself and the Yuwen family. Nonetheless, he resolves to uphold the pretense of Yuwen Yue’s death for the safety of the household, while silently hoping that his nephew has found a new path, safe from Wei’s ruthless politics.
Flashback of the Arranged Marriage to the Great Summer Royal Clan and the Yuwen Clan
In the Imperial palace, Concubine Ning’er privately suggests to the Emperor an advantageous alliance between the Yuwen and Imperial families. She proposes an arranged marriage between her daughter, Yuan Chun’er, and a member of the Yuwen household. The Emperor listens, considering the potential political stability such an alliance could bring. However, Yuan Chun’er has other thoughts.
When the Emperor summons her to discuss the arrangement, Yuan Chun’er’s reaction is immediate and passionate.
“Father, I cannot accept. My heart belongs to another—I have loved Yan Xun since we were children. I cannot forsake that, not even for the sake of the Empire.”
Her words are laden with sorrow and defiance, her gaze unflinching as she holds her father’s eyes. The Emperor’s expression shifts from surprise to a resigned understanding, aware of her feelings for Yan Xun and the bloody history that followed his rebellion.
“The Empire is in need, Yuan Chun’er. Love is a luxury for those not born into royalty. Yan Xun… he no longer walks our path.”
But Yuan Chun’er is steadfast.
“Then let the Empire be in need. I will not trade my loyalty to the man I love for an alliance that serves neither my heart nor my honor.”
With a quiet sigh, the Emperor dismisses her, torn between his daughter’s resolve and the potential benefits of the marriage. He knows that Yuan Chun’er’s loyalty remains bound to a man who once brought ruin to Wei, yet he also respects the strength of her convictions.
Yuwen Gao’s Reflection on Yuwen Yue’s Disappearance
In his private study, Yuwen Gao reflects on the Emperor’s wish to reopen the case of Yuwen Yue’s disappearance. Though he has agreed to comply, he remains deeply conflicted. Protecting the Yuwen family has always been his priority, and he knows that pursuing Yuwen Yue’s legacy could potentially expose him to dangers within Wei’s political realm. He resolves to approach the investigation with caution, seeking only those clues that will neither threaten Yuwen Yue’s safety nor disrupt the delicate balance he has maintained within the family.
Wei’s Political Instability: Yuan Yang’s Leadership
Meanwhile, in the palace, the Emperor feels a growing sense of uncertainty, as each report from the Xiaoqi camp and the Empire’s frontiers obscures the truth of Wei’s stability. Alone, he stares at the shattered pieces of the reports on the floor, each one a reminder of the chaos threatening his rule.
In the aftermath of Yanbei’s devastating assault on the Xiaoqi camp, the Wei Empire finds itself without stable leadership. The absence of Crown Prince Yuan Song, who remains secluded in the distant Moon Kingdom Monastery, and the Seventh Prince Yuan Che, serving his sentence at the Freedom Community, has left Wei’s military forces vulnerable and shaken. Yuan Yang, initially a lesser-known prince, seizes the opportunity to take command of the camp, helping the battered Wei troops recover from one of the bloodiest attacks in history.
Yuan Yang’s leadership, though a temporary fix, is rapidly transforming into a powerful force within Wei’s fractured military. His growing influence among the troops and Wei’s thousand-strong cavalry grants him control over a vast swath of Wei’s defensive power. Yet, his numerous reports to the Emperor have gone unanswered. Despite the urgency and his role in stabilizing the empire’s defenses, the Great Summer Emperor remains silent, his court locked in a state of cold, uncertain stasis. The Emperor’s lack of response leaves Yuan Yang to grapple with the burdens of leadership without clear guidance or approval, forcing him to make decisions that could reshape Wei’s future.
Yuan Yang’s Leadership Amidst Uncertainty
Yuan Yang stands in the ruins of the Xiaoqi camp, surrounded by the remnants of Wei’s forces. The soldiers—tired, wounded, and demoralized—look to him with a mixture of hope and skepticism. Yuan Yang, though untested in large-scale command, steps up to give them direction.
“We’ve suffered, but we’re not defeated. Yanbei’s forces may have scarred this land, but Wei stands strong. Together, we’ll rebuild this camp and defend our borders. Our duty to Wei and the Emperor has not changed, even if we must carry it out in his silence.”
The troops, inspired by his resolve, respond with a newfound determination, throwing themselves into the task of restoring the camp. Yuan Yang oversees every detail, his confidence growing as he witnesses their recovery. Gradually, he becomes a respected figure, someone they can trust to lead them in the absence of the Crown Prince and the Seventh Prince.
Yuan Yang’s Urgent Letters to the Emperor
From the front lines, Yuan Yang pens a series of urgent reports, updating the Emperor on the destruction at Xiaoqi, the imprisonment of General Bali, and the absence of both Yuan Song and Yuan Che. In his letters, Yuan Yang emphasizes the critical need for support to rebuild the camp and sustain the troops. However, as days turn into weeks, the Emperor remains silent. His lack of response begins to weigh on Yuan Yang, who feels the mounting pressure of an uncertain future for Wei’s military.
Yuan Yang’s Letter to the Emperor:
“Your Majesty, the Xiaoqi camp stands as a testament to Wei’s resilience, though it lies in ruins from Yanbei’s brutal attack. I humbly request your direction and support to ensure Wei’s forces remain strong and protected. With the Crown Prince’s absence, I have taken command as best as I can, but we need your guidance, lest we become vulnerable to further assaults.”
As he waits, Yuan Yang grows increasingly frustrated. The Emperor’s silence, his lack of response to Wei’s deteriorating defenses, feels like abandonment. Privately, Yuan Yang confides his doubts to his closest advisors, though he maintains his composure publicly, determined to continue leading the troops to the best of his ability.
Meanwhile, the fate of General Bali, imprisoned after the battle, adds another layer of complexity to Yuan Yang’s leadership. Some soldiers believe Bali’s imprisonment is unjust and call for his release, viewing him as a symbol of Wei’s resistance. Others, aware of his failure to secure the camp, feel his punishment is justified and necessary to restore order. The divide among the troops adds tension to Yuan Yang’s command, and he is forced to tread carefully to prevent further fractures.
During a private meeting with his officers, Yuan Yang addresses the issue.
“General Bali’s fate will be decided by the Emperor and the Wei Justice Court. Until then, our focus is on survival and defense. I understand your loyalty to him, but right now, loyalty to Wei is what matters most.”
The officers exchange uncertain glances but ultimately nod in agreement. Yuan Yang’s decisiveness quells the immediate tension, though he knows that without a clear response from the Emperor, questions about Bali’s future will continue to fester.
The Emperor’s Reflection and Desperate Hope
In the palace, the Emperor sits alone, staring at the reports scattered across his marble floor. Yuan Yang’s letters, filled with details of Wei’s devastation and pleas for support, lie among them. Each report bears an urgency that underscores Wei’s fragile state, yet the Emperor finds himself paralyzed by doubt and mistrust.
He knows that his sons—absent and scattered—cannot fulfill the roles he once envisioned for them. With Yuan Song secluded in the Moon Kingdom and Yuan Che undergoing his sentence in the Freedom Community, the Emperor feels an acute lack of reliable leadership. His heart longs for the counsel of Yuwen Yue, the disowned heir to the Eyes of God, who once provided him with unerring intelligence and truth.
Finally, he summons Yuwen Gao, the current head of the Yuwen family, to the palace. Yuwen Gao arrives, and the Emperor’s tone is one of resignation, laced with a desperate hope.
“Yuwen Gao, reopen the case of your nephew, Yuwen Yue. I know he is likely gone, but I cannot ignore the need for clarity. His absence weighs heavily on Wei. If he were here, perhaps we would not be so lost.”
Yuwen Gao hesitates, then bows deeply, hiding the glimmer of sadness in his eyes. He has long suspected that Yuwen Yue might have survived, but he understands that reviving this investigation will be both dangerous and delicate.
“As you wish, Your Majesty. But be prepared—the truth may remain as elusive as it was before.”
Yuan Yang’s Resolve and Wei’s Future
Back in the Xiaoqi camp, Yuan Yang reflects on the Emperor’s silence and the isolation he feels as Wei’s reluctant leader. In the face of uncertainty, he steels himself to rise beyond the constraints of imperial recognition, resolving to lead without the Emperor’s explicit support if necessary. He realizes that the trust of his troops—and the survival of Wei’s people—now rest in his hands alone.
Yuan Yang’s Resolute Leadership Amid Uncertainty
One evening, Yuan Yang addresses his officers. His voice is firm, steady, and filled with resolve.
“The Great Summer Emperor may not answer us. We may stand here without orders, without promises of reinforcement. But we are Wei’s defenders, and our duty remains unchanged. Whether we have the Emperor’s blessing or not, we will protect these lands. For the people. For Wei.”
The officers respond with silent nods, their respect for Yuan Yang growing. In the absence of the imperial court’s guidance, he has become their pillar—a leader who does not wait for approval to defend his people.
The Batuja Family and Its Influence
As Wei’s political and military landscape grows increasingly complex, new threats and alliances emerge from the northwestern territories. Princess Zama and Prince Zaru, rulers of these regions, see an opportunity to destabilize Wei’s front lines by targeting Yuan Yang, the 3rd Prince. However, their position is uncertain: Yuan Yang is neither their clear enemy nor a trusted ally, and any aggressive move could backfire, either galvanizing Wei’s forces or isolating their own territory.
To gather information on Yuan Yang and confirm potential ties to Yan Xun, they activate their covert Blackguard spies to monitor his activities. Yet Yan Xun, known for his cunning and skill in deception, has carefully obscured any alliance with Yuan Yang, making it nearly impossible to prove whether their connection is genuine or a carefully laid trap. The Blackguard spies remain at a stalemate, unable to gather the concrete proof needed to report their suspicions to the Great Summer Emperor. This uncertainty leaves Yuan Yang’s position precarious, with whispers of treachery but no formal accusations.
Meanwhile, General Bali, once a revered commander, is imprisoned in his own Xiaoqi camp, a visible reminder of Wei’s fractured loyalties. Amid this political tension, Princess Zama quietly dispatches a coded message to Yuwen Huai, a rising figure within Wei with close ties to the Eyes of God and the intelligence community. She omits any mention of the Yuwen heir’s survival but subtly hints at instability within Yuan Yang’s camp and the possible alliances forming around him.
Xiao Yu’s Struggles and Countermeasures
In a distant corner of the empire, Xiao Yu, Queen of Yanbei, grapples with the effects of poison administered by a Blackguard spy. The poison, orchestrated by the Celestial Dao master Zhan Ziyu, is designed to induce fatigue, mental fog, and hallucinations over time. However, Xiao Yu, known for her strategic brilliance, continues to elude death. Though the poison weakens her, her mind remains sharp.
Determined to maintain her edge, Xiao Yu leverages her web of alliances. She meets with Dong Fangyi, a trusted ally with significant influence in espionage, to discuss defensive strategies—unknown to many, he is the Sand Drizzle Master of the Moon Kingdom.
“Zhan Ziyu’s attempt is feeble—he underestimates the strength of my alliances. I will not be an easy mark.”
“Even so, poison can be a slow death, my queen. You must fortify yourself. And if Zhan Ziyu is fixated on weakening you, he may try to unravel your alliances,” says Dong Fangyi, his words cold and calculating.
Xiao Yu smiles, though her eyes reveal the strain of her ordeal. “I have blackmail material that could bring down entire networks. If Zhan Ziyu wants a war in the shadows, I’ll give him one. Prepare our agents—I want every spy from Liang to the Wei capital aware that Yanbei’s Queen is not so easily defeated.”
Together, they begin reinforcing Yanbei’s intelligence network. Xiao Yu’s mental fortitude and mastery of information remain her most potent weapons, and she resolves to use them to counter Zhan Ziyu’s schemes.
Political Tension in Wei: Yuan Yang Under Scrutiny
Back in the northwestern territories, Princess Zama and Prince Zaru meet to discuss their options regarding Yuan Yang. They are wary of his growing power, but the lack of solid information makes direct action risky.
“Yuan Yang commands the Xiaoqi camp, but we still don’t know where his true loyalties lie. If he’s aligned with Yan Xun, that alliance could undermine Wei from within. But without proof, any strike against him would only strengthen Wei’s unity.”
“Perhaps we should wait for more intelligence. Let Yan Xun’s web unravel itself. We need to keep our distance and watch for any signs of disloyalty among the Wei ranks. Yuan Yang may betray himself without our interference.”
The two agree to bide their time, focusing on intelligence-gathering rather than immediate confrontation. They place their trust in the Blackguard spies, knowing that the right piece of information could change the game.
The Blackguard’s Stalemate
In the shadows surrounding the Xiaoqi camp, a Blackguard spy known only as Shadow Fang observes Yuan Yang’s activities, searching for any signs of allegiance with Yan Xun. However, Yan Xun’s careful planning leaves nothing obvious to track, creating a frustrating deadlock for the Blackguard.
Shadow Fang’s thoughts:
“He’s shrewd, this Yan Xun. Every move, every message, is cloaked in half-truths and misdirections. If he and Yuan Yang have an alliance, he’s buried it well enough to fool even the best of us.”
The Blackguard sends reports back to Princess Zama but warns that nothing substantial has been found. The lack of solid proof keeps the Blackguard spies from formally informing the Emperor, leaving Yuan Yang’s potential alliance with Yan Xun an open and dangerous question.
Princess Zama’s Correspondence with Yuwen Huai
Back in the northwestern territories, Princess Zama decides to reach out to Yuwen Huai, a prominent figure within Wei with close ties to the Eyes of God network. She writes a letter filled with vague yet provocative hints, hoping to draw out information without fully exposing her intentions.
Princess Zama’s Letter to Yuwen Huai:
“Lord Yuwen Huai, recent developments suggest that certain allegiances within Wei may be shifting. While we await confirmation, know that influences beyond Wei’s borders are at play, perhaps even within the walls of Xiaoqi. I trust you understand the delicacy of this information and the potential for shared interests.”
Yuwen Huai, reading the message, senses the hidden implications. He realizes that Princess Zama is probing for knowledge on Yuan Yang’s position and possibly seeking an advantage. Yet he knows better than to trust outsiders with critical information regarding the Empire’s internal matters and instead files her message away as potential leverage.
The Emperor’s Silence and Growing Unease
Back in the capital, the Great Summer Emperor receives conflicting reports but refrains from issuing any directives regarding Yuan Yang. Despite his frustration over the lack of clarity, he holds back, waiting for more definitive information. The silence from Princess Zama and Prince Zaru regarding Yan Xun’s possible alliance with Yuan Yang only adds to his unease.
In private, the Emperor confides in one of his most trusted advisors:
“Every report I receive hints at disloyalty or deception. Yet none of them provide the proof I need. The absence of the Eyes of God leaves us blind to our own empire. If Yuwen Yue were here, perhaps he would uncover the truth behind these rumors.”
The Emperor’s reliance on the lost heir of the Eyes of God is evident. He quietly directs Yuwen Gao to increase efforts in monitoring potential dissidents within Wei’s territories. His silence regarding Yuan Yang remains a calculated decision, one that he hopes will keep the various factions of Wei in check until he can be certain of each player’s loyalties.
Chapter 94
Meant to be
Sealing the letter, Chu Qiao hands it to a trusted courier, feeling a sense of resolve even as she acknowledges the uncertainty that remains.
With her network of alliances throughout the Moon Kingdom and Qinghai, Chu Qiao continues to monitor the situation. As a master of strategy and blackmail, she knows how to leverage information and alliances to her advantage. Although Zhan Ziyu and the Celestial Dao master remain threats to her position, her alliances with figures like Dong Fangyi and the Yuwen household give her an upper hand in gathering intelligence.
Within the halls of Chu Jing Palace, Chu Qiao reviews her contacts, knowing she must tread carefully. Her alliances provide leverage, but Ra Zheng’s ambitions—and Yuwen Yue’s silence—create a tension she cannot ignore. She resolves to use every resource at her disposal to counter Ra Zheng’s influence, secure Yan Xun’s safety, and ultimately, discover Yuwen Yue’s true intentions.
Chu Qiao thinks: I have waited too long for this. Ra Zheng’s schemes, Yan Xun’s determination, and Yuwen Yue’s silence… All of it leads to a greater struggle for power. I will see it through to the end.
With a determined heart, Chu Qiao prepares for the next move, knowing the paths of Ra Zheng, Yan Xun, and Yuwen Yue are converging in a way that will shape the future of the Moon Kingdom, Qinghai, and possibly her own destiny.
Zao Baocung, the healer from the Moon Kingdom, enters the room just as Viper is about to leave, bowing slightly as he greets Chu Qiao with respectful, playful deference.
“Greetings, Mimi Gongzhu.”
Chu Qiao acknowledges him with a nod, her expression serious. She senses that Zao Baocung’s visit isn’t purely social—he’s here with a purpose. She gives him a steady look, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“Untie Douji and A’jing.”
Zao Baocung’s eyes widen slightly, surprised, and he scratches his head thoughtfully.
“But… that could be dangerous. You’re saying to let them wander around here like they would in Yanbei? That sounds a bit reckless, don’t you think?”
Chu Qiao’s gaze remains unyielding as she squints at him, her tone firm yet calm.
“Yes. And no.”
Zao Baocung raises an eyebrow, still scratching his head: “Yes… and no? Are you telling me to do both? I don’t follow. Which is it?”
Chu Qiao, undeterred by his banter, speaks with quiet authority, her patience visibly waning.
“Because, Zao Baocung, I trust you know what’s needed here. They are not to be treated as prisoners. As far as I’m concerned, they haven’t posed any threat to the Moon Kingdom, nor have they caused me harm. In Yanbei, they were my comrades-in-arms. I will not allow them to be mistreated here.”
Zao Baocung studies her expression, reading the intensity in her gaze. He sighs, giving her a small, conceding smile, recognizing her resolve.
“Fine, fine. I suppose I’ll make the arrangements. You always did know how to get what you want, Mimi Gongzhu.”
The Moon Kingdom Monastery, a secluded and austere place of worship, lies in silence as Zao Baocung, the renowned healer and priest, arrives. Clad in traditional druid priest garments, Zao Baocung commands respect with his quiet, formidable presence. His robe is a deep forest green, woven from thick, rough-spun cloth adorned with subtle silver patterns reminiscent of ancient vines and leaves. The garment is layered, with flowing sleeves that drape down to his hands and a high collar that frames his face, lending him an air of mystique. His belt is crafted from leather embedded with small, natural stones that shimmer faintly in the dim light of the monastery, signifying his connection to the natural world. His long hair, streaked with silver, is gathered loosely at the nape of his neck, and his dark eyes hold both wisdom and compassion, though his expression remains solemn and unreadable.
Zao Baocung is accompanied by a discreet group of Jianhu spies, who move silently at his command. Their purpose is clear as they follow him to the prison chambers, where Yanbei’s captured men, Douji and A’jing, languish in despair. With the quiet authority of the Moon Kingdom’s healer, Zao Baocung ensures that Chu Qiao’s instructions for their release are followed exactly.
Zao Baocung stops before the door of a dimly lit cell where Douji, a young soldier from Yanbei, lies almost unrecognizable. His once-strong frame has withered; his clothes hang loosely on his frail body, his face sunken and hollow. Douji’s condition is a painful testament to the neglect and emotional torment he has endured. The visible signs of his suffering come not from physical punishment, but from prolonged isolation and mental anguish, which have left his spirit close to broken.
With a gentle but firm voice, Zao Baocung speaks to the monastery’s attendants.
“As the Mimi Gongzhu has ordered, he shall be released first. Prepare him a decent meal, clean clothing, and a comfortable courtyard where he can regain his strength.”
The attendants nod, moving swiftly to carry out Zao Baocung’s instructions. Douji, too weak to respond, is carefully lifted by the servants and escorted away, his expression a mix of confusion and faint relief.
Next, Zao Baocung moves to A’Jing’s cell. A’Jing, though equally worn down, has a spark of defiance in his eyes that even captivity has not extinguished. His appearance is dire: his face is marred with fresh bruises and scars, and his wrists bear the angry red marks of tight restraints. His clothes are tattered, and his skin has grown pallid from lack of sunlight. Though he stands shakily, his gaze remains fierce as Zao Baocung approaches.
Zao Baocung gestures to the guards to open the door and then speaks to A’Jing with calm authority.
“A’Jing, by order of the Mimi Gongzhu, you are to be released. You will receive food, clean clothes, and a place to rest. Do not resist. Her orders are for your well-being.”
A’Jing’s eyes narrow, suspicion etched in every line of his face. He crosses his arms, his body language tense as he looks between Zao Baocung and the guards.
“Who is this Mimi Gongzhu? And why should I believe this sudden mercy? Are we like cattle to be fattened before slaughter? Or does she plan to parade us around as trophies, to shame our country and our people?”
Zao Baocung, unmoved by A’Jing’s defiance, meets his gaze with a steady look, his voice unwavering.
“The Mimi Gongzhu is no enemy of Yanbei. Her orders are for your survival, not your humiliation. She has chosen to extend this kindness. Accept it, for you will need your strength for whatever lies ahead.”
The calm resolve in Zao Baocung’s tone, coupled with his priestly aura, seems to soften A’Jing’s suspicion, if only slightly. A’Jing hesitates, studying Zao’s face, looking for any hint of deceit, but finds none. After a moment, he nods, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion, though the fire in his eyes remains.
“Very well. I’ll follow your orders. But know this: Yanbei will not bow easily. Whatever plan this ‘Mimi Gongzhu’ has, we are not broken.”
Zao Baocung inclines his head, acknowledging A’Jing’s resilience. He gestures for the guards to escort A’Jing to the quarters prepared for him. As they lead him away, Zao’s eyes hold a flicker of respect for A’Jing’s unbroken spirit, a sign that Yanbei’s resolve still lives within its people.
After Douji and A’Jing have been escorted from their cells, Zao Baocung remains behind for a moment, his thoughts lingering on Chu Qiao’s orders and her calculated approach. He recognizes the depth of her intentions; she has always known how to play the long game. Every move she makes is deliberate, driven by a mix of compassion and strategy.
Zao Baocung thinks: The Mimi Gongzhu is both merciful and wise. She understands Yanbei’s resilience, and she uses it to her advantage. These men are not just prisoners to her—they are allies waiting to be forged.
With a silent nod to himself, Zao Baocung turns and leaves the dim halls of the monastery, his steps echoing with quiet resolve as he returns to Chu Qiao’s side, ready to report the completion of her orders.
As Chu Qiao walks through the stone corridors of the Moon Kingdom Monastery, her appearance is strikingly simple. Gone are the regal robes and insignias of the Mimi Gongzhu; instead, she is dressed as an ordinary woman, with plain, unadorned clothing that conceals her status. She moves with quiet purpose, her mind flooded with memories of Yanbei and her days in the military camps, where she first met Douji. He was only seven years old then, a loyal young boy who looked up to her and Yan Xun with wide, trusting eyes. Now, nearly a decade later, she is about to see him again, uncertain if he will even remember her.
Her heart quickens as she approaches his quarters, and she allows herself a moment to recall the times they shared, hoping that those memories have not been erased by the years of hardship he has endured.
In her mind’s eye, Chu Qiao sees a younger Douji—an eager, bright-eyed boy who had just been assigned to the Yanbei military camp. Though small and slight, he was fearless, often following Yan Xun around like a loyal shadow. Chu Qiao remembers the first time she saw him, covered in dust and dirt from head to toe, stubbornly training with the older soldiers, determined to prove himself.
Memory Flashback
Yan Xun laughing: “Look at him! This little one has more spirit than half our soldiers!”
Chu Qiao said: “Douji, you’re seven. You should be learning to read, not training with men twice your size.”
But Douji had looked up at her with defiant eyes and a mischievous grin.
“I want to fight for Yanbei, like you and Yan Xun. I’m strong enough. Just watch!”
Despite his young age, his loyalty was fierce, and his resilience impressed both Chu Qiao and Yan Xun. Over the years, she had watched him grow from a child into a capable, spirited youth, one who would go to any lengths to protect Yanbei and those he loved.
As they moved from camp to camp in those turbulent years, Chu Qiao had often found herself keeping an eye on Douji, watching him develop skills, helping him with his training, and, at times, tending to his scrapes and bruises. She remembers one particular night when he had sneaked into her tent, his face pale, clearly shaken from his first real skirmish.
Now, as Chu Qiao stands outside Douji’s door, those memories feel like they happened only yesterday. She wonders if he still remembers those times or if the bitterness of captivity has dulled them. She fears he may be too changed, too hardened by what he has endured. But as she steps forward and quietly opens the door, she hopes that somewhere inside, the brave, spirited child she knew still lives.
Douji sits in the small, sparsely furnished room, gazing out a narrow window. His face is thin, his eyes shadowed, but there is a flicker of recognition when he turns and sees her. He studies her simple appearance, and for a moment, there is silence as they take each other in.
Chu Qiao slowly steps into the room, her gaze soft and steady as she watches him.
“Douji. It’s been a long time.”
For a moment, Douji seems unsure, but then a faint glimmer of memory lights his eyes. He stands, though he appears weak, and a hesitant smile crosses his face, as though remembering her from a time when his life was different.
Douji, quiet but attentive: “You… you look different. But I know you.”
Chu Qiao, with a faint smile: “Maybe I do look different. But you, Douji, you’ve grown up. You’re not that little boy who used to challenge every soldier in the camp.”
The words seem to warm him, bringing a flicker of life back to his expression. He lets out a shaky breath, his voice soft but filled with something close to hope.
“I thought… I thought everyone had forgotten me.”
“No one has forgotten you, Douji. I haven’t. You’re still that brave boy who stood by Yan Xun, who fought for Yanbei even when the odds were impossible. And now, you’re here—a soldier who has endured more than most.”
Douji’s gaze falls, a hint of shame crossing his face.
“I wasn’t strong enough, Chu Qiao. I couldn’t protect Yanbei. I let everyone down.”
Chu Qiao reaches out, gently resting a hand on his shoulder.
“Strength isn’t only about fighting, Douji. It’s about surviving, enduring, and keeping hope alive. You’ve endured so much—and that, too, is a kind of strength.”
A silence settles between them, filled with understanding and shared memories. In that moment, Douji sees not only his former commander but someone who believes in him, someone who remembers the brave child he once was and the resilient young man he has become.
After a moment, Chu Qiao’s expression becomes serious, and she looks into his eyes with the same resolve she once showed him as a young boy.
“Yanbei still needs you, Douji. This world is harsh, but you have a part to play in it. Your story isn’t over, and you are not alone. Remember who you are, who you’ve always been, and stand proud.”
Douji’s shoulders straighten, the weight of despair lifting, replaced by a faint but steady resolve. Her words seem to reignite the spark within him, a reminder of the courage and loyalty he had once clung to so fiercely.
“I understand. I’ll stand strong—for Yanbei. For you.”
Chu Qiao smiles, the pride and affection she feels for him evident in her eyes. She has seen the boy grow into a man, and even through hardship, she knows that his spirit is unbroken. As she leaves, she feels reassured that the spark of loyalty and courage she remembered is still alive within him, ready to rekindle for the battles yet to come.
Leaving Douji’s courtyard, Chu Qiao moves to A’Jing’s quarters, her steps steady but her heart heavy. She knows that reuniting with A’Jing will not be easy; his hardships and isolation within the Moon Kingdom Monastery have likely changed him, hardened him. Still, she hopes that a familiar gesture, a shared memory, might help bridge the gap that years and suffering have carved between them.
As she enters his quarters, she greets him with a quiet, familiar warmth, hoping to bring some light into the darkness that has surrounded him.
“A’Jing, it’s been a while. Can you cook for me, like we used to in Yanbei?”
For a moment, A’Jing stares at her, disbelief clouding his face. His voice is rough with fatigue, and his expression is shadowed, haunted by the suffering he has endured. But as he studies her face, a glimmer of recognition flickers in his eyes. He stumbles back slightly, whispering in a voice laced with disbelief.
“You… you’re a ghost. You’re not alive. I must be dreaming.”
His voice breaks, caught between hope and despair. Chu Qiao’s heart aches as she sees the toll that captivity has taken on him. She understands that he is not fully ready to believe what he sees, not after the pain and isolation he has endured. She speaks softly, her voice a blend of apology and understanding.
“I’m no ghost, A’Jing. I’m here. And I’m sorry—for what you’ve had to endure in this place. I wish I could have spared you from the harshness of this kingdom. I assume you’ve met the Feather Girl?”
A’Jing’s face tightens, his expression a mix of resentment and sadness. He wants to release his pain, to sob or shout, but instead, he holds himself in rigid defiance, unwilling to show his vulnerability. His voice is thick with emotion as he looks at her, his gaze a mixture of longing and accusation.
“If you’re really her… if you’re really the girl I knew, then free my master. Free Yan Xun. You know he doesn’t deserve this. He has suffered enough, and he’s still suffering. And yet, here you are—avoiding him, refusing to stay by his side. How can you look at me and ask for kindness when he’s still locked in chains?”
The rawness of his words cuts deep. Chu Qiao feels the weight of his accusation, and it takes every ounce of her composure to remain calm. She knows A’Jing’s words come from loyalty, from the years he has dedicated to Yan Xun, and from the grief of watching his master endure pain and loneliness. She wants to explain, to make him understand why things are as they are, but the truth is complex and difficult to face.
She meets his gaze, steady but sorrowful, and replies with a quiet, measured tone.
“A’Jing… I know you love him. I know you would give everything for his freedom. But this situation is not as simple as it once was. Things have changed, and Yan Xun’s path… it is one he chose, and one that has led him here.”
A’Jing’s expression hardens, his voice growing more forceful.
“So this is it, then? You’re just going to let him suffer? Let him rot in this place while you watch from a distance?”
Chu Qiao closes her eyes briefly, gathering her thoughts. She understands his pain, his anger, but she cannot give him the easy answer he seeks. Her voice softens, filled with both empathy and regret.
“I wish I could undo his suffering, A’Jing. But this isn’t about avoidance—it’s about survival. If I could stay by his side, I would. But the choices I’ve made were not made lightly. Yan Xun’s journey is one that he undertook willingly, and I am bound by other obligations as well.”
A’Jing’s shoulders slump slightly, a mixture of exhaustion and resignation crossing his face. The spark of defiance fades, leaving only a quiet sorrow. He looks away, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I thought you cared about him. I thought… after all he did, that you would come back for him.”
Chu Qiao’s heart tightens at his words, but she remains firm. She steps closer, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder.
“I do care, A’Jing. More than you know. But sometimes… caring means letting go. It means trusting him to find his way, even if that path is painful. Yan Xun is strong, and he will survive this. And when he is ready, he will rise. But I can’t lead his battles for him. I can only stand by when he calls upon me.”
A’Jing finally meets her eyes, his expression softening, though a lingering sadness remains.
“Then… what am I to do? I’ve served him my whole life. How do I just… watch and wait?”
Chu Qiao’s voice is steady, though a hint of sorrow lingers.
“You are his strength, A’Jing. You’re here because you’ve stood by him through everything. And you will continue to stand by him. That is your loyalty, and he needs that now more than ever. Be his anchor, not his shadow. Hold fast until the time is right.”
For a moment, there is silence between them, a shared understanding in the quiet. A’Jing’s face softens, and though the pain of his loyalty remains, a trace of peace settles within him. He nods slowly, accepting her words with a reluctant but resolute heart.
“I will. For him.”
Chu Qiao nods in return, a faint smile crossing her face, though her heart remains heavy. She understands the price of loyalty, the burden of caring from a distance, and the quiet strength required to let go.
As Chu Qiao sits in A’Jing’s dimly lit quarters, she carefully weighs every word she speaks. She knows that A’Jing’s condition—worn down physically, mentally, and emotionally—requires more than simple reassurances. His exposure to the strange environment of the Moon Kingdom Monastery, where reality and fantasy often blur, has left him vulnerable. Many prisoners succumb to the whispers of impossible tales, their minds fractured by isolation and the surreal nature of the Moon Kingdom. Chu Qiao understands that A’Jing’s recovery will require time and careful guidance, and she resolves to focus on his healing before broaching the more difficult truths of Yan Xun’s current situation.
Sitting beside A’Jing, Chu Qiao keeps her tone calm and steady, her words imbued with warmth and encouragement. She avoids discussing Yan Xun’s mistakes or the precarious political situation brewing in Qinghai, knowing that such details could overwhelm A’Jing in his fragile state.
“A’Jing, I see your strength. Even after all you’ve endured, you’re still here, still fighting in your own way. That’s no small thing. You’ve survived something most people could never comprehend.”
A’Jing’s gaze flickers to hers, skepticism clear, but there’s a faint glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. She continues, her voice soft but firm.
“For now, don’t think about the battles or the past. Focus on yourself. Eat well, rest, and regain your strength. When you’re ready, we’ll talk about everything—about Yanbei, about the paths we’ve all taken. But not now. Right now, you need to heal.”
A’Jing hesitates, then nods slightly, though his expression remains guarded. His silence is both a defense and an acknowledgment of her words. Chu Qiao doesn’t press him further, understanding that his recovery will be a slow and deliberate process.
As Chu Qiao leaves A’Jing’s quarters, her mind turns to the delicate web of truths she has withheld. A’Jing does not yet know of Yan Xun’s capture, nor the ambush orchestrated by Zhong Yu that delivered him into Ra Zheng’s custody. She fears that revealing this now could shatter what little resolve A’Jing has left. More importantly, she knows that Yan Xun’s fate hinges on forces beyond her immediate control.
She reflects on the gravity of Yan Xun’s mission, a reckless endeavor that saw him enter Qinghai unarmed and alone, leaving behind his cavalry and his kingdom. It was a suicide mission, and yet it was so very like him—headstrong, unyielding, and driven by an insatiable need for answers. Chu Qiao understands this side of Yan Xun intimately, for it mirrors her own. Yet, she wonders what price he is willing to pay and whether Yuwen Yue, the Crown Prince of Qinghai, will see his old friend as a threat or a man who has already endured enough.
Yan Xun doesn’t know how to stop. He’s like Yuwen Yue in that way. Neither of them understands the word ‘quit.’ But this is a different world, one that Yan Xun thought he could face with sheer will alone. It’s not enough. Not here.
As Chu Qiao reflects on Yan Xun’s capture, her thoughts drift to Yuwen Yue. Though she hasn’t explicitly outlined every detail in her correspondence with him, she trusts that he will read between the lines of her carefully worded letter. Yuwen Yue has always had an uncanny ability to decipher the unspoken, to see the layers beneath every word. She clings to the hope that he will understand her plea without her having to say it outright: Yan Xun must be protected, his life preserved, even as the consequences of his actions continue to ripple across Qinghai.
Yuwen Yue… I trust you to see the truth, even when it’s buried beneath layers of politics and pain. You know Yan Xun as well as I do. You’ve fought alongside him, and you’ve fought against him. But you’ve never wanted him dead. Not really. And now, he’s here, vulnerable and exposed. What will you do?
Her faith in Yuwen Yue’s judgment steadies her, though it does little to ease the weight of her uncertainty. She knows Yuwen Yue’s strategic mind, his ability to see the long game, but she also knows that his actions are not always predictable. The bonds of their shared history run deep, but they are also fraught with unresolved tensions and unspoken truths.
Despite her trust in Yuwen Yue, Chu Qiao cannot ignore the deeper conflict within her. Yan Xun’s choices have left a trail of devastation—choices that have hurt not only himself but countless others. Yet, standing between him and Yuwen Yue feels like standing in the eye of a storm, with no clear way to navigate the chaos. She must decide whether her loyalty to Yan Xun’s survival outweighs the need to stop him from making further mistakes, or whether her faith in Yuwen Yue’s ability to handle the situation will be enough.
Yan Xun has risked everything to come here, but for what? For answers? For redemption? Or just to prove that he can? I don’t know if I can protect him from himself, or if I even should. And Yuwen Yue… he will decide what to do with Yan Xun, but can I trust his judgment enough to let this play out?
The questions linger, unanswered, as Chu Qiao steels herself for what lies ahead. She knows that no matter how much she plans, the coming days will test her resolve, her loyalty, and her capacity to protect those she cares about.
Late at night, Chu Qiao sits in her quarters, penning another letter to Yuwen Yue. Her words are carefully chosen, balancing trust and subtlety, leaving enough ambiguity for him to interpret as he sees fit.
Chu Qiao’s Second Letter to Yuwen Yue:
“Yuwen Yue, the world has changed greatly since Yanbei. The paths we walk are no longer clear, and the people we once knew are now caught in battles of their own making. I ask only that you see the truth beneath the surface. Some missions are reckless, but they are not without purpose. You’ve always understood this better than most. Yan Xun’s journey here was not without reason, though it may not seem rational to anyone but him. I trust you will handle this wisely, as you always have.”
As she seals the letter, Chu Qiao feels a sense of quiet resolve. She may not have all the answers, but she knows that the bonds she shares with both Yan Xun and Yuwen Yue will guide her, even in the most uncertain of times.
In the quiet solitude of his study, Ra Yue—Yuwen Yue—reads Chu Qiao’s letter for the second time. His sharp, silvered eyes scan the familiar handwriting, lingering on the subtlety of her words. The letter says much without saying it outright, but he does not need explicit details to understand the subject. The “ghost” she refers to is Yan Xun, the man whose shadow continues to loom large over both their lives.
A pang of pain and resentment twists in Yuwen Yue’s chest. He knows that Chu Qiao, despite everything, still draws a line around Yan Xun—a line that no one should cross. Yet he wonders if this is the same line she drew during the icy lake tragedy, the day that nearly cost him his life and sealed the divide between them.
As he folds the letter, Ra Yue’s mind churns with thoughts of justice, punishment, and the price of Yan Xun’s choices. Nearby, Ra Zheng, his older brother and the Crown Prince of Qinghai, observes him with a calculating expression. The tension in the room is palpable as Ra Zheng speaks.
Ra Zheng leans against the table, his dark eyes gleaming with challenge as he addresses his brother.
“So, little brother, will you test the limits of her loyalty? Or will you let her draw the same line she did at the icy lake? Perhaps we should find out how far that line extends.”
Yuwen Yue remains silent, his face an unreadable mask, but his grip on the folded letter tightens. Ra Zheng presses on, his voice calm but laced with provocation.
“Yan Xun is reckless, but he’s also calculating. He came here knowing full well that it might cost him everything. If he’s willing to pay that price, why not make him truly suffer? Keep him alive, yes—but teach him a lesson so severe that even he will think twice before defying us again.”
Ra Zheng’s words echo Yuwen Yue’s own thoughts, but the bitterness in his chest makes it difficult to speak. The memories of the icy lake resurface—the freezing water, the betrayal, and the relentless pursuit of justice that followed. His voice, when it comes, is low and measured.
“Keeping him alive is the easy choice. Teaching him the consequences of his actions… that is the far harder path. If Yan Xun believes he can walk into Qinghai and leave unchanged, he is mistaken.”
Later, alone in his chambers, Yuwen Yue allows himself a moment of quiet reflection. He has no intention of taking Yan Xun’s life—death would be too simple, too fleeting. Instead, he contemplates a punishment that will leave an indelible mark, one that will force Yan Xun to confront the weight of his choices.
He will live, but he will not forget. He will carry the consequences of his recklessness like a brand upon his soul.
His plan begins to take shape. It will involve physical labor, the kind of grueling work that strips a man of his pride. It will involve isolation, but not complete solitude, so Yan Xun will see and feel the lives that have been affected by his decisions. And it will involve reflection—an enforced reckoning with the past, the present, and the future.
Yuwen Yue’s punishment is not born of malice, but of necessity. He knows that only by breaking through Yan Xun’s stubborn pride can he force him to confront the pain he has caused—not just to others, but to himself.
Even as Yuwen Yue solidifies his plan, Chu Qiao’s letter lingers in his thoughts. Her subtle plea to keep Yan Xun untouched cuts deeper than he expected. He knows her well enough to understand the depth of her feelings, even if she does not voice them outright. But he also knows that her loyalty to Yan Xun, though fierce, is complicated—layered with pain, guilt, and unresolved ties.
Does she still believe he is the same man she once followed? Does she see his flaws, or does her loyalty blind her?
The question unsettles him, not because he doubts Chu Qiao’s judgment, but because he knows how much Yan Xun has taken from her—and from him. Yet, despite the bitterness he feels, there is a part of him that cannot entirely sever the bond they all once shared.
The next morning, Yuwen Yue meets with Ra Zheng to finalize their plans for Yan Xun’s custody. Ra Zheng, ever the pragmatist, is eager to hear his brother’s thoughts.
“So? Have you decided? Or are you still tangled in whatever web she’s woven around you?”
Yuwen Yue’s expression hardens, his voice calm but firm.
“Yan Xun will live. But he will learn the cost of his actions. He will carry that lesson for the rest of his life. This isn’t about her. It’s about justice—and survival.”
Ra Zheng raises an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Justice, is it? Or revenge?”
Yuwen Yue’s gaze sharpens, but he does not rise to the bait. Instead, he leans forward, his voice steady.
“Call it what you like. Either way, Yan Xun will leave Qinghai changed—or he won’t leave at all.”
As Yuwen Yue prepares for what is to come, he considers the delicate balance he must maintain. Chu Qiao’s trust, Yan Xun’s defiance, and Ra Zheng’s ambitions all weigh heavily on him. He knows that his actions in the coming days will not only determine Yan Xun’s fate but also the future of Qinghai and the fragile bonds that connect them all.
In his heart, he hopes that Chu Qiao will understand his choices, even if she does not agree with them. And yet, he knows that the path ahead will test all of them in ways they cannot yet foresee.
This isn’t just about Yan Xun. It’s about all of us—the lives we’ve built, the lines we’ve crossed, and the truths we can no longer ignore. Whatever happens, I will not let the past repeat itself without letting him learn to never use Chu Qiao as a lure and bait. I already taught Xiao Ce the hard way, now it’s time for Yan Xun to taste its bitterness as well.
In the quiet, heavily guarded chambers of Qinghai’s palace, Yan Xun sits in what could almost be called luxury—if it weren’t for the invisible chains of his captivity. Despite the comfortable furnishings and the attentive care of the servants, Yan Xun’s health deteriorates. His refusal to eat has become an unspoken act of defiance, a hunger strike meant to push Yuwen Yue into negotiation. Yet Yuwen Yue, ever the master strategist, has turned this rebellion into a lesson that cuts deeper than any blade.
Day after day, Yan Xun’s refusal to eat results in the punishment of the innocent. The servants, trembling and begging for their lives, are brought before him as their fates are sealed. Yuwen Yue’s cruelly precise method—taught to Zuo Zong—ensures that the servants appear to die before Yan Xun’s eyes, their lifeless bodies crumpling to the ground. Their cries echo in his ears, but Yan Xun remains cold, unmoving, his stoic mask betraying nothing.
Inside, however, the weight begins to grow. Yuwen Yue’s calculated cruelty is designed to make him question his choices, to erode the layers of detachment he has built over years of war and loss. What Yan Xun doesn’t know is that the deaths are not real, that the servants are revived under Yuwen Yue’s care and rewarded for their loyalty.
Ra Zheng, observing his brother’s manipulations from a distance, shakes his head in amusement.
“Both of them are too stubborn for their own good. One refuses to yield, and the other refuses to relent. Let them play their games, though I wonder who will break first.”
One day, Yuwen Yue enters Yan Xun’s chamber unannounced, his steps deliberate and his expression unreadable. Yan Xun looks up from where he sits, his face pale but still defiant. Yuwen Yue stops a few paces away, his voice cold and cutting.
“Will you refuse again tomorrow, Yan Xun? If you do, the tenth servant will die. Or perhaps you think their lives mean nothing—after all, you’ve already let nine perish. What’s one more?”
Yan Xun’s jaw tightens, but he remains silent, his gaze fixed on Yuwen Yue with a smoldering intensity. After a moment, he finally speaks, his tone low and firm.
“Give her back to me.”
Yuwen Yue raises an eyebrow, feigning confusion.
“Give who back to you? Xing’er? I am her Master and soon to be the ruler of Qinghai.”
The words land like a blade, but Yan Xun refuses to flinch. Instead, he leans forward slightly, his voice sharper now.
“She belonged to Yanbei. To me.”
Yuwen Yue’s steps falter briefly, but he quickly regains his composure, his tone tinged with cold amusement.
“Belonged? To you? Is that what you think? Let me remind you, Yan Xun—she was never yours. You may have tried to claim her with titles and promises, but she made her choice long before you ever sent your dowry.”
The tension between them tightens like a bowstring. Yan Xun refuses to show any weakness, though his voice carries the weight of his anger and despair.
“She said yes to me when I proposed. I made the arrangements, sent the dowry, and prepared for her to stand by my side as Queen of Yanbei.”
Yuwen Yue’s expression darkens, the mask of control slipping just enough to reveal his own bitterness.
“So did I. When I was nothing but a peddler man, she married me. Not as a ruler, not as a Master, but as a man. She was mine in a way she could never be yours.”
Yan Xun’s hands tighten into fists, his lips curling into a bitter smile. He presses further, his voice rising in defiance.
“We spent nights together. We protected each other in ways you could never understand. I stood by her side when she was alone, vulnerable. She trusted me in ways she could never trust you.”
Yuwen Yue steps closer, his voice dropping to a deadly calm.
“Trust? Is that what you call it? Tell me, Yan Xun—did she trust you when you abandoned her in the icy lake? Did she trust you when you turned your back on everything she fought for?”
Yan Xun’s defiance falters, but he recovers quickly, his voice cutting like a blade.
“You think you know her better than I do? You think your time together means more than ours? We lived through hell together. We bled for the same cause.”
Yuwen Yue, his silver eyes blazing with restrained fury, delivers the final blow.
“And yet, when she bled for me, it was under the Snow White Rook, where she gave herself to me—completely. Do you think she would have done that if her heart was still yours?”
The words strike Yan Xun like a thunderclap. His mouth opens slightly, but no words come out. His mind reels at the revelation, the image of Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue together under the Snow White Rook tearing through him like a storm. His hands tremble, but he quickly hides them, refusing to let Yuwen Yue see the cracks in his armor.
Yuwen Yue steps back, his gaze still locked on Yan Xun, whose silence now speaks volumes. For the first time in their confrontation, Yan Xun’s composure has slipped, and Yuwen Yue knows that he has won this round.
As he turns to leave, Yuwen Yue delivers one final remark, his voice devoid of emotion.
“You wanted to play games, Yan Xun. Remember, I am always ten steps ahead. Rest well. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to survive in Qinghai. Eat your food. I have ensured they are safe, and you will survive.”
The door closes behind him, leaving Yan Xun alone in the quiet of his chamber. He sits motionless, the weight of Yuwen Yue’s words pressing down on him. The thought of Chu Qiao choosing Yuwen Yue over him burns in his chest, more painfully than any physical wound. Reality gnaws at his soul. He needs nourishment, or this pain must end tonight.
For the first time in days, Yan Xun reaches for the food left on the table. He eats slowly, silently, his mind consumed by memories of Chu Qiao and the painful realization that his claim to her heart may have always been an illusion.
On the 10th day of Yan Xun’s hunger strike, the pattern of death seems inevitable. Every morning, the servants tremble as they enter his chamber, their lives hanging by the thread of his defiance. But today, the 10th servant, a young man barely out of boyhood, approaches with trembling hands, holding a simple tray of food. His voice cracks as he pleads for Yan Xun to eat, his eyes filled with desperate fear.
“Please, My Lord. Spare me. I have a family who depends on me. I beg you—just take one bite.”
Yan Xun’s stoic expression does not waver. For ten days, he has held his ground, refusing food, refusing to bend to Yuwen Yue’s manipulation. But today, something shifts. His eyes flicker toward Zuo Zong, who stands in the shadows, his imposing figure a constant reminder of the consequences. Yan Xun’s voice, low and steady, breaks the silence.
“Do not kill him.”
The servant gasps, tears of joy spilling over as he falls to his knees, thanking Yan Xun profusely.
“Thank you, My Lord. Thank you!”
Zuo Zong watches intently, his sharp eyes narrowing as he considers Yan Xun’s unexpected command. His thoughts drift to his master, Yuwen Yue, and the strange visit to Yan Xun the previous night. The untouched tray of food from that evening now holds more significance. This morning, it is clean with few leftovers, though its purpose remains a mystery. Zuo Zong says nothing, but the gears in his mind turn as he silently exits the room to report this change to Yuwen Yue.
Viper, unnoticed as always, observes the scene and swiftly delivers the report to the Mimi Gongzhu. Chu Qiao listens with an enigmatic expression, her head tilted slightly as she processes the news. For the first time in days, Yan Xun has broken the chain of deaths, but the victory feels hollow. The entire situation, she muses, seems to revolve around egos more than survival.
“Does one man really have to hurt another like this just to make him eat? Is this what their pride has reduced them to?”
Her lips curve into a faint smirk, but the amusement is short-lived. Beneath the surface, Chu Qiao feels the weariness of being caught in the center of this endless tug-of-war. Yuwen Yue and Yan Xun, two men who once stood together, are now locked in a battle that has little to do with her and everything to do with proving who will break first. She shakes her head, her tone turning dry.
“And somehow, I’m the prize in this game. A symbol for their egos to toss back and forth. As if that ever mattered.”
Despite her sardonic words, Chu Qiao can’t entirely deny the complexity of her feelings. Yan Xun’s loyalty to her as his Commander in Chief was something she once valued deeply, but she had always kept their relationship professional. Or had she? The lines blur in her memory, and she finds herself questioning whether her emotions for him were ever as simple as she believed.
Chu Qiao reflects on the truth she revealed to Yan Xun in their last conversation: her feelings for him were purely professional. At least, that’s what she told herself for years. But now, the memories of Yanbei feel distant and tangled. Her loyalty to Yan Xun, her time as his Commander, the bond they shared—all of it felt genuine. Yet, as she grew older and faced Yuwen Yue again, her emotions became harder to define.
Did I ever really see Yan Xun as more than a comrade? Was there a part of me that hoped for something else? Or was it all just an illusion created by the war, by the need to survive?
Her thoughts drift to Yuwen Yue, the man whose presence has always forced her to confront truths she’d rather avoid. The question of their status—whether they are married, divorced, or simply strangers—haunts her. The icy lake, Snow White Rook, and the quiet moments they shared all feel like fragments of a life she can’t quite piece together because she feels this revelation of Yuwen Yue to Yan Xun was too much to bear. But how to end such conversations between these two men? To hurt one with truth or control one with a lie?
What are we, Yuwen Yue? Are we bound by duty? By love? Or are we nothing but ghosts of what could have been?
Later that evening, Yuwen Yue listens to Zuo Zong’s report with a quiet intensity. The news that Yan Xun spared the 10th servant does not surprise him, but it confirms what he already suspected. Yan Xun’s defiance is not unbreakable—it is calculated. For every move Yuwen Yue makes, Yan Xun counters with one of his own, and the balance between them remains precarious.
“Master, the servant cried tears of gratitude. Yan Xun didn’t eat, but he gave the order to spare him.”
Yuwen Yue nods, his sharp mind already turning over the implications.
“He’s beginning to understand the game. Let him think he has control—for now. But remind him tomorrow who holds the real power.”
The 10th servant, alive and unharmed, is quietly rewarded for his performance. Yuwen Yue ensures that the man’s loyalty remains intact, knowing that every detail of this charade must be meticulously managed.
As the days pass, the tension between Yuwen Yue, Yan Xun, and Chu Qiao remains unspoken but palpable. Yan Xun’s hunger strike becomes less about survival and more about proving his will. Yuwen Yue, ever the strategist, continues to manipulate the situation, using every tool at his disposal to break Yan Xun’s defiance.
Chu Qiao, caught in the middle, observes from a distance. She allows the men to play their games, trusting that they will eventually reach their own terms. Yet, deep down, she knows that this battle is not just about Qinghai or Yanbei—it is about the wounds they have inflicted on each other and the unresolved emotions that bind them.
As she watches the sun set over the Moon Kingdom, Chu Qiao speaks softly to herself, her words a mix of resignation and quiet hope.
“If this is how they must heal, so be it. But I won’t be their prize. Not this time.”
She steels herself for what lies ahead, knowing that the path forward will require all the strength and clarity she can muster. The question of her heart—whether it belongs to Yan Xun, Yuwen Yue, or no one at all—remains unanswered. For now, she chooses to focus on the future, on the battles yet to come, and on the quiet hope that someday, the wounds of the past will finally heal.
The letter from the Crown Prince of Qinghai arrives in a finely crafted envelope, its texture smooth but sturdy, made of high-quality parchment. The edges are embossed with a subtle snow filigree pattern, a testament to the refined tastes of the Qinghai court. The emblem of the Snow Prince—a crescent moon intertwined with a blooming plum blossom—adorns the wax seal, its silver hue gleaming faintly in the candlelight. The seal is unbroken, a sign of the utmost confidentiality.
When Chu Qiao opens the envelope, a faint but distinct scent of plum blossoms wafts through the air, mingled with a hint of icy mint—a fragrance both calming and commanding, one that mirrors Yuwen Yue’s composed yet formidable presence. The parchment within is of the highest quality, its ivory surface smooth and cool to the touch.
Yuwen Yue’s calligraphy is immaculate, each stroke precise and deliberate, reflecting the discipline and elegance that defines him. The characters are written in a flowing yet restrained hand, their symmetry and balance reminiscent of the Qinghai mountains themselves—unmoving and resolute. Each word seems to carry the weight of his thoughts, the ink bold against the pale parchment, as if he had etched his very essence into the letter.
Its wax seal depicts the crescent moon and plum blossom, symbols of Qinghai’s duality—cold, unyielding power paired with a fleeting touch of beauty and humanity, much like Yuwen Yue himself. The scent lingers in the air as the plum blossoms and mint evoke clarity and calm, underscoring Yuwen Yue’s meticulous and calculating nature while hinting at the cold environment of Qinghai. Each calligraphy stroke reflects his personality—disciplined, deliberate, and imbued with a sense of duty. The variations in style reveal subtle emotional undertones, particularly in his address to Chu Qiao. The high-quality parchment material signifies his status, but the simplicity of the design—free from ostentatious embellishments—mirrors his restrained and pragmatic character.
Viper places the envelope in Chu Qiao’s hands, the wax seal intact and shimmering faintly in the lamplight. She turns it over, studying the emblem with a thoughtful expression before breaking the seal. As she unfolds the letter, the scent of plum blossoms and mint fills the air, a familiar fragrance that stirs memories of the Snow White Rook and the man she has tried so hard to forget.
The precise calligraphy draws her eye, and she runs her fingers lightly over the smooth parchment, as though feeling the weight of his words before even reading them. The emotions conveyed in the strokes—calm, resolute, yet tinged with something unspoken—strike her as profoundly Yuwen Yue.
Her expression hardens as she reads the opening lines, but by the time she reaches the final sentence, her brow softens, and her fingers tighten slightly around the edges of the letter. She sets it down carefully, her thoughts swirling as the scent lingers in the air.
To my Xinger,
The Respected Mimi Gongzhu,
You speak in veiled truths, yet I know the ghost who haunts your words. Yan Xun, as ever, remains a man of audacity and pride. And as always, he finds himself caught in the web of his own making. His arrival here, unarmed and unguarded, is less an act of bravery and more a reckless gamble. He has walked willingly into a game he cannot control, and he must now bear the consequences of his choices.
It is not in my character to leave debts unpaid, nor to forget the weight of what is owed. Yan Xun carries a heavy ledger—one filled with betrayal, abandonment, and countless lives lost to his ambitions. For every deed he has committed, there is a price, and I will see it repaid. He will learn that survival is a privilege earned, not a right claimed.
Do not misunderstand me, Chu Qiao. This is not vengeance. This is justice—a reckoning long overdue. If you have faith in his strength, as you once did, then trust that he will endure what must be done. If his cause is righteous, then let it be proven through his suffering and his resolve. But do not ask me to spare him the lessons he has brought upon himself. That, even for you, I cannot do.
Yan Xun is a man who knows the meaning of pain. But he has yet to understand the meaning of consequence. He shall repay every debt, not because I demand it, but because it is the natural order of things. In this, he will find clarity—or he will find ruin.
As for us… Do you see us as adversaries, Chu Qiao? Or as two paths that once converged but now diverge into separate worlds? Your letter leaves much unsaid, but I have always read between the lines of your silence. One day, we will speak plainly. Until then, I will hold fast to my duty, as I always have.
Ra Yue,
Crown Prince of Qinghai
Chu Qiao thinks Yuwen Yue is as steadfast as ever. Justice, duty, debts… Yuwen Yue’s world is so rigid. Does he truly believe that pain will teach Yan Xun what he needs to learn? Or is this just another battlefield for him?
Setting the letter aside, Chu Qiao leans back, her thoughts heavy. She knows she cannot intervene directly, not without risking everything she has built in the Moon Kingdom. Yet, she wonders if Yuwen Yue’s approach will break Yan Xun—or awaken something in him that cannot be controlled.
The next morning, Yan Xun is summoned from his palace cell and brought to a secluded courtyard. Awaiting him is Yuwen Yue, flanked by Zuo Zong and several silent Qinghai guards. The atmosphere is tense, the air thick with unspoken challenges. Yuwen Yue speaks first, his voice calm but commanding.
“Yan Xun, today you will begin repaying your debts. Every life lost, every betrayal made in your name carries a weight. And you, as their bearer, will feel it.”
Yan Xun’s lips curl into a faint, mocking smile, but he says nothing. His silence speaks volumes—a defiance that Yuwen Yue meets with equal resolve.
The task is brutal but simple: Yan Xun must rebuild a Qinghai village destroyed during a skirmish caused by his forces in earlier campaigns. He is handed tools, stripped of any status or comfort, and forced to labor alongside the villagers. The work is grueling, and the villagers’ stares are hostile. But Yan Xun endures, his pride preventing him from giving Yuwen Yue the satisfaction of complaint.
From a shaded pavilion, Yuwen Yue watches Yan Xun’s progress. Zuo Zong stands at his side, his expression unreadable.
“Do you think this will change him, Master?” Zuo Zong asks.
“It’s not about change. It’s about understanding. Yan Xun has always been a man of vision but never of consequence. He believes he can shoulder the weight of the world without seeing who suffers beneath it. That ends here.”
Zuo Zong nods, though he remains skeptical. He has seen men like Yan Xun before—proud, unyielding, and unwilling to admit weakness. Still, he trusts Yuwen Yue’s judgment, even if the path forward is fraught with uncertainty.
As the days of labor stretch on, Yan Xun grows thinner, his hands blistered and his body worn. Yet his spirit remains defiant. One evening, as the sun sets over the courtyard, Yuwen Yue visits him.
“Do you understand now, Yan Xun? The weight of your choices? The lives that were lost because of your pride?”
Yan Xun straightens, his eyes burning with quiet fury.
“Do you think this will break me, Yuwen Yue? You’ve always been the noble one, the righteous one. But you’re just as cruel as I am—only you wrap it in justice and call it virtue.”
Yuwen Yue’s expression darkens, but he does not waver.
“This isn’t cruelty, Yan Xun. It’s truth. And you will face it, whether you want to or not.”
The tension between them is evident—a clash of wills neither is willing to concede. As Yuwen Yue turns to leave, Yan Xun’s voice cuts through the silence.
“You think you’ve won, don’t you? But this isn’t over. Not for me. Not for her.”
Yuwen Yue pauses, his gaze sharp as he looks back at his former friend.
“Then prove it. Survive this. Endure. And maybe you’ll have the chance to make things right.”
Late in the evening, Chu Qiao sits in her private study, the faint glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the room. Viper, her most trusted operative, stands before her, recounting the latest developments from Qinghai. The report is detailed and meticulous, reflecting the care with which Viper gathers intelligence.
“The King of Yanbei has been laboring in one of the villages razed during his campaigns. Crown Prince Ra Yue (Yuwen Yue) oversees his tasks with precision, ensuring every movement serves as a lesson. However, Yan Xun shows no signs of breaking. His pride remains unshaken, though his body weakens. Zuo Zong keeps a careful watch.”
Chu Qiao listens in silence, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. Viper continues, her voice calm but purposeful.
“Ra Zheng observes from a distance. He hasn’t intervened but appears to support his brother’s methods. Still, he is less emotionally entangled. If anyone would grant an audience, it would be him.”
Chu Qiao considers this, her gaze thoughtful. She knows that meeting Yuwen Yue would draw too much attention and risk exposing her position. Ra Zheng, however, is a different matter—pragmatic, cunning, and open to negotiation when it suits him. If she wishes to influence the situation, he may be her best option.
“Arrange the meeting. Quietly. I’ll speak with Ra Zheng, not Yuwen Yue.”
Viper nods and disappears into the shadows, leaving Chu Qiao to her thoughts.
The meeting is arranged in a discreet location outside Qinghai’s capital, far from prying eyes. Chu Qiao, dressed in a simple cloak to avoid recognition, arrives at the secluded pavilion at dawn. The air is crisp, the early light filtering through the surrounding trees.
Ra Zheng, the Silver Prince of Qinghai, is already waiting. His imposing figure is clad in a silverish pearl-white Hanfu, an understated robe, his demeanor relaxed but watchful. A faint smile plays on his lips as he greets her.
“Mimi Gongzhu, your reputation precedes you. To what do I owe the honor of this secret meeting? Surely you didn’t come all this way just to admire Qinghai’s scenery.”
Chu Qiao offers a polite nod, her tone calm but firm.
“You know why I’m here, Your Highness. I want to discuss the King of Yanbei.”
Ra Zheng’s smile widens slightly, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
“Ah, Yan Xun. My brother’s new student. Or is it his new obsession? I admit, their little game has been quite entertaining to watch. But what is it you wish to discuss? His fate? His punishment? Or his redemption?”
Chu Qiao takes a step closer, her voice steady.
“I want to ensure his survival. Yan Xun has made his mistakes, but he doesn’t deserve to die here—not like this. If Yuwen Yue’s methods push too far, the consequences could be disastrous. I need to know where you stand.”
Ra Zheng’s expression shifts slightly, his amusement giving way to a more serious tone.
“You give my brother too little credit. He knows exactly how far to push without breaking the man. Yan Xun is stubborn, yes, but he’s not invincible. My brother isn’t trying to kill him, Mimi Gongzhu. He’s trying to teach him a lesson—one that might actually save him in the end.”
Chu Qiao’s gaze sharpens, her voice firm.
“And if he doesn’t learn? If the lesson only fuels his hatred, his pride? What then?”
Ra Zheng shrugs, his tone casual but with an edge of steel.
“Then that’s on him, not us. But you didn’t come here to debate philosophy. You want assurances, don’t you? Very well, I’ll tell you this: I won’t let my brother destroy him. Not completely. Yan Xun’s survival benefits Qinghai as much as it does Yanbei—though for very different reasons.”
Chu Qiao takes a moment to weigh his words, her expression unreadable. Ra Zheng watches her carefully, his gaze calculating.
“I need your word, Your Highness. Yan Xun must not be pushed to the point of no return.”
Ra Zheng leans forward slightly, his smile returning.
“And in return, what will you offer me, Mimi Gongzhu? Every alliance comes with a price, after all.”
Chu Qiao’s lips curve into a faint smile, her tone measured.
“You’ll find that having the Mimi Gongzhu of the Moon Kingdom as an ally is worth far more than any gold or land. But if you need specifics, let’s just say I have information that could be… useful to Qinghai’s interests.”
Ra Zheng chuckles, clearly amused.
“Clever as ever. Very well, Mimi Gongzhu. I’ll keep your King alive. But know this—whatever happens between him and my brother is beyond my control. You may protect his life, but you cannot protect his pride.”
Chu Qiao nods, her expression resolute.
“Pride can heal. Death cannot.”
With that, the meeting ends. Ra Zheng watches her leave, his thoughts hidden behind his enigmatic smile. He admires her tenacity but wonders if even she fully understands the forces at play.
Back in the Qinghai palace, Yuwen Yue sits at his desk, reading reports from Zuo Zong. One note catches his attention—a vague mention of Ra Zheng’s movements. His eyes narrow slightly as he pieces together the implications.
“Chu Qiao. You’re always one step ahead, aren’t you?”
Though he says nothing, a faint smirk tugs at his lips. He does not resent her interference—if anything, he finds it intriguing. He knows she is trying to ensure Yan Xun’s survival, but he also knows that her efforts will only delay the inevitable reckoning.
Unaware of the secret meeting, Yan Xun continues his grueling labor, his body weakening but his resolve unbroken. One evening, as he rests in his quarters, a Qinghai guard delivers a message—unsigned, but unmistakably from Chu Qiao. The note is simple yet powerful:
“Hold your ground, Yan Xun. Survival is your greatest weapon. Do not let pride rob you of your future. You are meant to be The World and not a savage man.”
Yan Xun stares at the note for a long moment, his jaw tightening. Despite his defiance, a flicker of something softer passes through his eyes. He folds the note carefully, tucking it away as he steels himself for the days ahead.
Chapter 95
Red Silk Road
As Yan Xun toils in the harsh labor assigned by Yuwen Yue, the physical strain begins to wear on his body. His hands are blistered, his shoulders ache, and his once-proud posture sags beneath the weight of exhaustion. Yet through it all, his defiance remains unbroken—until, in a rare quiet moment, a memory from his time in the Celestial Garrison Prison rises unbidden.
The cold stone walls of the prison flash before his eyes, the weight of chains cutting into his wrists. He remembers the muffled cries of other prisoners and the distant sound of iron gates clanging shut. Most vividly, he remembers Chu Qiao standing before him, her expression fierce and unyielding despite the horrors surrounding them.
“Even if it’s like a dog, live it! No matter how cruel the world becomes, no matter how much it breaks you, you cannot let it kill your spirit. Live, Yan Xun. Even if the world drags you through the mud, survive. That is the only way you win.”
The memory feels so real that Yan Xun almost expects to hear her voice echoing in his chamber. He clenches his fists, his breath coming in shallow gasps as the weight of her words settles over him. For a moment, his defiance wavers, replaced by something deeper—a flicker of understanding that survival is not weakness but strength.
Yan Xun’s mind drifts further back to the days when the Celestial Garrison Prison was his personal hell. He had been stripped of everything—his family, his kingdom, and his pride. But even in that abyss, Chu Qiao had been a relentless force of will. She had fought for him when he couldn’t fight for himself, her words a lifeline when he was drowning in despair.
Flashback of the past
In the dim light of the prison, Chu Qiao crouches beside Yan Xun, her voice low but firm.
“You want revenge, don’t you? You want to see the ones who destroyed your family brought to justice. Then you must live. Live, even if it means crawling like a dog. Pride means nothing if you’re dead.”
Yan Xun, his voice weak but stubborn, replies, “But what is life without honor? Without pride?”
Chu Qiao grips his arm, her eyes blazing. “Honor? Pride? Those are luxuries you cannot afford right now. Survive first. Take back your pride when you have the strength to wield it. But if you let them kill you now, all you’ll leave behind is ashes.”
Back in the present, Yan Xun wipes sweat from his brow, his breaths steadying as he recalls her words. Her fierce determination had once been a fire that reignited his own, and though their paths have diverged, that fire still burns within him. For the first time in days, he picks up the tools he had set down and begins to work with renewed purpose.
She was right. Even if the world drags me through the dirt, I must live. I owe her that much. I owe myself that much.
The labor feels less burdensome now, his thoughts focused not on the pain but on the purpose. Yuwen Yue’s punishments may seek to break him, but Yan Xun knows that survival is its own form of defiance. Every breath he takes is a victory, every step forward a challenge to those who seek to see him fall.
From his vantage point in the shadows, Yuwen Yue watches Yan Xun’s subtle transformation. The defiance remains, but there is something different now—a quiet resolve that wasn’t there before. Yuwen Yue’s expression is unreadable, though a faint flicker of recognition crosses his face.
He’s remembering. Good. Survival isn’t just about the body—it’s about the spirit. Let’s see how far that spirit can carry you, Yan Xun.
Viper brings Chu Qiao the latest report on Yan Xun’s condition. Hearing of his renewed effort, she feels a strange mix of emotions—relief, pride, and a lingering sorrow for the man who once relied on her words to keep going.
“He’s always been like that. He clings to life with a stubbornness that even death can’t touch. It’s why he’s still standing after everything he’s endured.”
Viper tilts her head, her voice curious. “Do you think he’ll forgive you one day, for not being there now?”
Chu Qiao doesn’t respond immediately, her gaze distant. “Forgiveness isn’t what I need from him. I just need him to survive.”
To the Esteemed Master of the Eyes of God,
The stars tonight are clearer than I have seen in years. I wonder, do you, too, look up at the same sky and find solace in its unchanging presence? Or do the constellations remind you, as they do me, of the vastness of what lies beyond our understanding?
Your last letter spoke of duty and the burdens it brings. I wonder: how does one balance the weight of obligation with the quiet desires of the heart? Or do you, like so many in your position, believe that the heart must be silenced to preserve the greater good?
I admit, I find your mind endlessly fascinating. There is a clarity in your words that cuts through the fog of doubt like a blade. Yet, I cannot help but wonder if you allow yourself moments of weakness, moments of humanity. After all, even the sharpest blade must rest, lest it dull.
Ever your curious companion,
Li Jian
To the Thoughtful Li Jian,
The stars you speak of are indeed a constant, though I admit I rarely take the time to look at them as you seem to do. Your words remind me that even in the darkest nights, there are lights to guide us—though they often seem so far away.
You ask of the balance between duty and the heart. I have found that the heart is a luxury afforded to those unburdened by responsibility. It is not that I do not feel—I do. But I have learned that to lead, one must temper emotions with reason. Passion may inspire, but discipline sustains.
Your curiosity intrigues me, Li Jian. Your questions are not the idle musings of a distant observer, but the pointed inquiries of someone who seeks to understand, perhaps even to challenge. I find this quality both admirable and disarming. In another life, I might have welcomed such a mind into my circle.
As always, I remain compelled by your thoughts. Do not stop writing.
Yuwen Yue
To the Master of Restraint and Reason,
Your words are as measured as ever, yet I sense the flicker of vulnerability beneath them. You speak of tempering the heart with reason, yet I wonder—does this tempering come at a cost? Does discipline rob you of the very passions that make life worth living?
Forgive me if I am too bold. I do not mean to challenge you but rather to understand. There is a duality in you that fascinates me—a man of precision and control, yet one who sees the world with such clarity and depth.
I wonder, do you ever wish for freedom from the chains of duty? Do you ever dream of a life lived not in service of others, but in pursuit of your own desires? Or is such a thought unworthy of one so bound to responsibility?
As always, your words leave me pondering my own nature, my own choices. For this, I am grateful.
Li Jian
To the Insightful Li Jian,
You are bold, but never unwelcome. Your words cut through the veils of pretense that so many others drape themselves in. It is refreshing, though it leaves me exposed in ways I am not accustomed to.
You ask if I dream of freedom. I do not know. Perhaps I did once. But dreams are fleeting, and I have long since learned to live in the reality of what is required of me. Still, your questions stir thoughts I had long buried. Perhaps there is a part of me that wishes for something more—though I do not dare to name it.
You, too, seem to carry a weight, Li Jian. Your words speak of someone who understands the price of power, the cost of leadership. I wonder, are you truly as free as you appear? Or do you, like me, find yourself bound to a path you cannot stray from?
Write again soon. Your letters are a light in a world often dim.
Yuwen Yue
To the Crown Prince of Qinghai, Guardian of Truth and Balance,
It has been said that power is a double-edged blade, and those who wield it must be prepared to bleed. I have often wondered, Yue, how much blood it has cost you to hold the balance you guard so fiercely. Are the weights you carry heavier now than when we last spoke, or have you learned to bear them with the quiet grace that always set you apart?
Once, you told me that duty was a shield, but also a cage. Do you still feel its bars, or have you grown to see it as your companion—the one constant in a world of shifting sands? You were always so precise in your reasoning, so measured in your words, yet there was always something beneath them—a part of you that longed for more than what duty allowed.
I write now because I believe that part of you still exists. Not the Crown Prince, not the Snow Prince, but the boy who once dared to see the stars as more than distant lights. The one who believed in justice, even when it required restraint. The one who believed that survival is not enough—it must be survival with purpose.
There is a man in your shadow now, one who walks a path of ruin and pride. He has been stripped of his name, his titles, his crown. Yet he remains unbroken, though he labors under the weight of your will. I will not name him—you already know of whom I speak.
Ask yourself, Yue: does the blade of justice cut too deep when it seeks not only repentance but humiliation? Is there wisdom in letting a man rebuild himself, or is it better to break him entirely?
I do not write this as an advocate for his cause, nor as one who excuses his failures. I write this as a reminder of who you are and who you once aspired to be. In the silence of your study, away from the court and the battlefield, when the weight of your crown feels heaviest, remember this: even the sharpest blade must be tempered, lest it shatter.
Perhaps you have already guessed who I am, or perhaps I am still the shadow you once trusted to speak the words others dared not. Either way, know this: the stars you once spoke of still shine, even when obscured by clouds.
Ever your unseen companion,
Li Jian
Sitting alone in his private study, Yuwen Yue rereads the letter with a growing sense of familiarity. His sharp mind catches the subtle cues embedded in the text—phrases and ideas that echo the conversations he once shared with his long-lost penpal.
The mention of “the stars as more than distant lights” draws him back to his younger years, when he would exchange letters with Li Jian about philosophy and the weight of responsibility. Her ability to challenge him, to see through the armor he wore even then, was unlike anything he had experienced with anyone else.
The line, “The blade of justice must be tempered,” strikes a deeper chord. It recalls a long-ago discussion about leadership and restraint, her insights leaving an indelible mark on him. His hand tightens on the parchment, his heart stirring with emotions he thought long buried.
Li Jian… It can’t be. But how could anyone else know these things?
Then there is the faint scent of jasmine on the letter—a deliberate touch. His memory drifts to countless nights spent re-reading her correspondence, where that same delicate aroma lingered on the pages. A small detail, yet unmistakably hers.
The final words, “The stars you once spoke of still shine,” deliver the final blow. He leans back in his chair, his mind swirling with questions and emotions he had suppressed for years. His voice, low and almost a whisper, breaks the silence.
“Li Jian… Xiao Yu.”
In his mind, Yuwen Yue returns to the days of their clandestine correspondence. Her letters were always elegant, probing, and filled with a warmth that contrasted his cold, pragmatic world. She was a stranger by design, yet her words had felt closer to him than those of anyone else in his life. For years, her letters were a refuge, a solace amidst the demands of his lineage and the crushing weight of expectation.
He recalls one letter in particular, one that lingered in his thoughts long after he received it:
To the Master of Reason and Restraint,
You often write of control and discipline, as though they are absolutes. Yet even you must admit that there are moments when control slips, when emotion takes the reins. Is this a failure, or is it simply humanity asserting itself?
I wonder if you would ever allow yourself such a moment. Or have you built your walls too high to climb, even for yourself?
When you look at the stars, Yue, do you ever wonder what lies beyond them? Or are you content to see them as they are—beautiful, distant, untouchable?
Always questioning,
Li Jian
The memory fades, but the words remain, resonating like an echo in his heart. Yuwen Yue exhales deeply, setting the current letter down on his desk. His usually composed expression softens, his silver eyes clouded with emotions he has long kept hidden—longing, regret, and the faint stirrings of a vulnerability he had vowed to bury. For the first time in years, he feels the shadow of the boy he once was, the one who dared to dream of stars and sought connection in a world of isolation.
But as the Crown Prince of Qinghai, indulgence is a luxury he cannot afford. Folding the letter carefully, he locks it away in a drawer, as if placing the memories themselves under lock and key. Yet the words linger, haunting him with questions he cannot answer.
Li Jian… Why now? And what are you asking of me?
The dawn over Qinghai is pale and cold, yet the atmosphere in Queen Zhueje’s court burns with palpable tension.
Queen Zhueje is a woman of unparalleled intensity. Her very presence commands both fear and respect. Standing tall, her regal bearing radiates control and calculated menace. Her sharp features—high cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and piercing dark eyes—seem as if they were carved from stone. Her skin is pale, with an almost ethereal translucence that contrasts strikingly against her raven-black hair, often swept back into intricate braids adorned with silver pins shaped like coiled serpents.
Her wardrobe is as imposing as her demeanor. She wears flowing robes of deep crimson and black, embroidered with symbols of her dominion—gorge hawks and twisted briars—interwoven with silver threads that gleam like captured moonlight. Around her neck rests a heavy choker of obsidian, adorned with a single blood-red ruby, said to be the crystallized tears of a defeated enemy queen.
Her hands—often clasped behind her back or resting on the hilt of a ceremonial dagger—are thin but strong. The fingers are adorned with silver rings etched with runes of control and loyalty. Every movement she makes is deliberate, calculated to project both elegance and dominance.
Seated on her throne of black jade, her sharp eyes scan the delayed spy reports from Ra Zheng’s territories. Her expression hardens with every line she reads, her anger simmering just beneath the surface.
The reports, though detailed, are outdated, filled with information that should have reached her days ago. The movements of Ra Yue and Ra Zheng, the unrest in the Moon Kingdom, and the remnants of the Underworld Spies—all point to a web of intrigue that has slipped beyond her control. The captured Gurus, who have shown no sign of resistance, only serve to highlight their powerlessness in front of both the Jianghu and Underworld spies.
What Queen Zhueje does not yet know is that one of her most trusted operatives has turned traitor, feeding critical information to the Silver Prince Ra Zheng, possibly as part of his Invisible Spy network intertwined with the Gorge spies. This betrayal is not motivated by greed, but by a twisted sense of justice—believing that her leadership has faltered. The hidden motives of this traitor threaten to unravel everything she has worked tirelessly to protect.
Slamming the report onto the table, Queen Zhueje’s voice erupts with fury. “Incompetence! Every one of you is a disgrace to your empire. Do you believe this empire can be sustained with scraps of information while our enemies roam freely?”
The Qinghai court falls silent. Her rage could burn a man alive. Rising from her throne, her voice turns cold and commanding.
“If the spies cannot deliver in time, then I shall make my own move. The Qinghai Princes have grown too bold. Ra Zheng plays at ruling, while Ra Yue meddles in the affairs of Yanbei and the Moon Kingdom. Even Ra Zhun skulks in their shadows like a rat. Capture them all. Let Qinghai feel the weight of my wrath.”
Her advisors exchange uneasy glances, but each nods, their heads bowed in submission.
The Crown Prince of Qinghai, once an ally, has turned against the empire. Using the remnants of his crippled military, he has enacted a bold strategy: cutting off access to key supply routes and blocking imperial gates to choke the flow of arms, provisions, and critical information. This deliberate campaign of misinformation and sabotage has left the empire vulnerable, its leaders scrambling to adapt. Meanwhile, the Gorge Spies—an elite group known for their infiltration and reconnaissance skills—are mobilized to counter the Crown Prince’s tactics, but time is running out.
“As you command, Your Majesty. The Gorge Spies will be mobilized immediately. However, Qinghai’s military, though fractured, has become a weapon of attrition. Under the Crown Prince’s influence, their crippled forces have sealed off our empire gates, stalling my movements and halting critical supplies. Misinformation is spreading like wildfire, and our provisions dwindle,” Advisor Liao said.
“So the Crown Prince believes he can starve me out? A bold strategy for a man whose forces are in tatters.”
“Bold, but effective, Your Majesty. The longer we delay, the tighter his noose grows around our necks.”
“Then we must make him choke on his own rope. Deploy the Gorge Spies immediately. I want every gate infiltrated and the supply routes reopened. And Liao—ensure the Crown Prince learns what happens to those who defy me.”
Black Vulture shouted, “The Queen’s orders are clear. We’re to infiltrate the Qinghai gates, neutralize their watchposts, and secure a path for our supply lines.”
Ember Crow retorted, “But Commander, the Crown Prince’s men aren’t fools. They’ve laced the routes with traps, and their scouts are watching day and night.”
Black Vulture, with his sharp eyes and crisp tone, said, “Then we’ll become the shadows they fail to see. A single mistake will cost lives—ours and the empire’s. Move with precision, and do not falter.”
Ember Crow inquired further, “And the misinformation campaign? How do we counter lies when they spread faster than truth?”
Black Vulture, determined to engage the Gorge Spies against Ra Yue’s military forces and inflict damage, said, “By planting truths even darker than their lies. Let them doubt their own leaders, and their walls will crumble from within.”
In a dimly lit war chamber, the Gorge Spies—an elite network of assassins and infiltrators—receive The Queen’s orders. Their leader, a grim-faced man known only as “The Black Vulture,” stands before them, his voice low and unyielding. He immediately raids the crown of Qinghai’s high courts and its officials. Unfortunately, before everyone is captured, these officials and eunuchs were already evacuated by Qinghai’s military. And the military executed a stage-like coup to prevent the Gorge spies from causing further damage.
The Black Vulture said, “My Queen, I am afraid we are all paralyzed inside these walls. Our only options are to capture the three Qinghai Princes: Ra Zheng, Ra Zhun, and Ra Yue.”
The Queen gritted her teeth, her face filled with rage.
The spies nod, their silence betraying neither fear nor hesitation. The Black Vulture continues.
“But that is not all. The Moon Kingdom must fall alongside. The Mimi Gongzhu, the so-called ruler of their shadows, must be taken. Her kingdom will burn, its citizens will scatter, and its secrets will be ours. Leave nothing standing. And find the remnants of the Underworld Spies. If they still live, they should be captured and shall be the Queen’s pawns—if they do not agree, offer them nothing but death.”
The spies disperse, their movements swift and silent, like shadows melting into the night.
The Wraith Weaver, the Interrogation and Psychological Warfare spy, is vividly described as a pale, wiry man with hollow cheeks and a thin, serpentine smile. His eyes are an unnerving shade of gray, almost translucent, and his long, bony fingers seem to move with a life of their own. He wears a long, hooded robe stitched with runic symbols that seem to shift when viewed from the corner of the eye. A thin-bladed rapier and a pouch of powders and toxins designed to disorient and incapacitate hang from his waist. When at work, he is a master manipulator, using psychological tactics to break his targets before they even lift a weapon. His poisons induce hallucinations, fear, and paranoia, making him a terrifying opponent. Opportunistic and sadistic, he is mischievous and enjoys exposing his enemies’ minds as much as their bodies. He is the Queen’s most trusted interrogator.
The Ember Crow, the Explosives and Chaos Tactician, is a short but wiry man with wild red hair and soot-streaked skin. His eyes sparkle with mischief, and his grin is never far from his face, even in the most dire situations. He wears a patchwork of leather and fireproof cloth, and his hands are perpetually stained with the residue of his explosives. He wields smoke bombs, incendiary devices, and explosive arrows. Specializing in creating chaos and destruction, he uses his explosives to distract, disorient, and devastate enemy forces. He is also adept at crafting traps that detonate when triggered. Energetic yet unpredictable, he thrives on the thrill of destruction. Though loyal to the Queen, he often pushes the boundaries of her orders for his own amusement.
The Gorge Spies are more than a deadly force; they represent Queen Zhueje’s philosophy of power—control through fear, chaos, and precision. Each spy is a weapon crafted for a specific purpose, their individuality a reflection of her ruthless strategy. Together, they form an unstoppable force, bound by loyalty to their Queen and fear of her wrath.
Ra Zheng, the elder brother and Crown Prince of Qinghai, has always been a pragmatist, using strategy and diplomacy where brute force would fail. As Queen Zhueje’s wrath bears down on Qinghai’s mainland and her Gorge Spies infiltrate their borders, Ra Zheng holds his own court in a fortified mountain estate. Unlike Ra Yue, who favors direct action, Ra Zheng operates in the shadows, orchestrating alliances and subtle power plays.
Ra Zheng receives reports of the Queen’s spies moving against his forces and the escalating unrest in the Moon Kingdom. His trusted aide, Xun Lu, one of the best invisible spies at Ra Zheng’s command, delivers the latest intelligence.
“The Queen’s Gorge Spies are striking at our gates and supply lines. Ra Yue’s forces are holding them off, but her reach is expanding. She’s also turned her gaze toward the Moon Kingdom.”
Ra Zheng folds his hands, his expression calm but calculating.
“The Moon Kingdom… so, she dares to overreach. The Mimi Gongzhu won’t fall easily. Still, this could work in our favor.”
“How, Your Highness? If the Moon Kingdom falls, the balance of power in the region shifts. The Jianghu and Underworld spies will scatter, and Qinghai will lose potential allies.”
Ra Zheng rises, pacing slowly, his voice measured.
“Exactly. The Queen underestimates the Moon Kingdom’s strength. If she diverts her forces there, her grip on Qinghai weakens. But we must ensure the Moon Kingdom holds. Send a message to the Mimi Gongzhu. Tell her that the Crown Prince of Qinghai is willing to negotiate.”
In the Moon Kingdom’s Diamond Hall, Chu Qiao reviews reports of the Gorge Spies’ infiltration. Her advisors argue over the best course of action, but her focus sharpens when Viper delivers a sealed letter bearing Ra Zheng’s insignia.
“A message from Ra Zheng. He claims he wants to negotiate.”
Chu Qiao opens the letter and reads it carefully. The message is direct yet diplomatic.
To the Respected Mimi Gongzhu,
The winds of war blow in all directions, yet those who stand together may weather the storm. Qinghai’s enemies are yours as well, and though our goals may differ, our survival is entwined.
The Queen underestimates the Moon Kingdom. She believes her spies will scatter your forces, but I see the truth—you are a force to be reckoned with.
I propose an alliance. Together, we can resist her overreach and turn the tide. My men are at your disposal, should you choose to accept.
I await your reply.
Ra Zheng
Chu Qiao’s expression remains neutral, though her mind races. Ra Zheng’s offer is tempting, but she knows better than to trust a prince of Qinghai without considering his motives.
“Ra Zheng is a cunning man. He wouldn’t make this offer unless it served his interests.”
“And yet, his interests align with ours—for now. If the Moon Kingdom falls, so does Qinghai.”
Chu Qiao nods slowly, her gaze thoughtful.
“Viper, prepare a response. Tell him I will consider his proposal—but only if he proves his sincerity.”
Within the Moon Kingdom’s Diamond Hall, Chu Qiao convenes a council with her Jianghu operatives, including Viper, her most trusted aide. Reports of the Gorge Spies’ beastly attacks have reached her, and the urgency in the room is palpable. Despite their expertise, the Jianghu spies are aware of the monstrous reputation of their adversaries.
“The Gorge Spies are not mere assassins; they are beasts trained for slaughter. We cannot face them with brute strength alone. Viper, I want you to lead the counteroffensive. Identify their weaknesses and exploit them. We cannot afford to lose more lives.”
Viper bows slightly, her expression resolute.
“Understood, Mimi Gongzhu. The Gorge Spies may be fierce, but they are not invincible. We will track them, isolate them, and eliminate them.”
As Ra Zheng continues his maneuvering, he meets with Ra Yue in a secluded Qinghai stronghold. The tension between the brothers continues, their approaches to the Queen’s aggression starkly different.
“I think you have been multitasking lately, brother! Teaching the King of Yanbei to tear down his own pride while shredding the relentless Qinghai Queen’s forces into thin pieces. Ra Yue, your tactics are effective, but we cannot hold her off forever with brute force alone.”
Ra Yue’s calm, serene eyes flash with irritation.
“And what would you suggest, brother? Diplomacy? While her Gorge Spies tear through our gates?”
Ra Zheng’s calm demeanor doesn’t falter.
“Diplomacy is a weapon as sharp as any blade. I’ve reached out to the Mimi Gongzhu in the Moon Kingdom. If she joins us, her Jianghu allies and spies could turn the tide.”
Ra Yue raises an eyebrow, his voice skeptical.
“Chu Qiao is no fool. She won’t trust a Qinghai prince without reason.”
“That’s why I intend to give her one. Together, we can make the Moon Kingdom a fortress against the Queen’s overreach. And to tell you bluntly, you cannot let the King of Yanbei die in the middle of hardship. I promised her his return to Yanbei and that she must trust you. You fight the Queen here and ensure he is still breathing, can you do that? And I’ll ensure we have allies there.”
After a tense pause, Ra Yue inclines his head slightly, his face blank as he questions his brother: Is he ordering me? Ra Yue has to remind him who is in charge.
“Do what you must. But don’t let your schemes weaken our defenses.”
Days later, under the cover of night, Chu Qiao and Ra Zheng meet in a neutral location near the Moon Kingdom’s border. The atmosphere is tense but respectful as the two leaders size each other up.
“Mimi Gongzhu, I appreciate your willingness to meet. We stand at a crossroads—together, we can stop the Queen’s ambitions.”
“Your words are persuasive, Your Highness, but I know better than to trust a Qinghai prince without question. What assurance do I have that you won’t use this alliance for your own gain?”
Ra Zheng smiles faintly, thinking Ra Yue is right.
“Because my survival depends on yours. The Queen’s forces threaten us both. If Qinghai falls, the Moon Kingdom will be her next target. We need each other.”
Chu Qiao studies him carefully, her expression unreadable.
“Very well. But know this—if I sense betrayal, our alliance ends. And I will not hesitate to act.”
Ra Zheng inclines his head.
“Understood. Then let us begin.”
With the alliance established, Chu Qiao and Ra Zheng coordinate their forces. Jianghu operatives infiltrate the Queen’s supply lines, sabotaging her resources, while Qinghai troops bolster the Moon Kingdom’s defenses. The Gorge Spies, now caught between two fronts, begin to falter.
Meanwhile, Ra Yue intensifies his efforts within Qinghai’s military forces, drawing the Queen’s attention back to her homeland. The combined efforts of the Moon Kingdom and Qinghai begin to shift the balance of power, but the fight is far from over.
Meanwhile, Yue Qi, Ra Yue’s trusted General, leads Qinghai’s military forces in a direct confrontation with the Gorge Spies. The battlefield is a chaotic blend of fire, blood, and shadow. The Gorge Spies, with their monstrous precision and ferocity, wreak havoc on Qinghai’s soldiers. Despite Yue Qi’s skilled leadership, the human forces falter.
“Hold the line! Protect the flanks! Do not let them split us apart!” Yue Qi cries out to the military ranks.
The Gorge Spies, however, thrive in chaos, their tactics focused on sowing confusion and fear. One by one, Qinghai’s ranks fall, their cries echoing across the battlefield.
As Yue Qi collapses, reinforcements from the Moon Kingdom arrive. Chu Qiao, flanked by her Jianghu operatives, leads the charge to retrieve the wounded commander. Her arrival turns the tide just enough to allow the remaining forces to retreat.
Spotting Yue Qi, Chu Qiao rushes to his side, her voice sharp with urgency.
“Yue Qi, stay with me! You’re not dying here.”
Despite his weakened state, Yue Qi grits his teeth and tries to stand.
“I can still fight…”
Chu Qiao’s firm voice: “No, you’ve done enough. I cannot let you die again just like in the icy lake.”
With the help of Zuo Zong, she gets Yue Qi onto a stretcher and orders the retreat to Ra Zheng’s territories, where his invisible spy network can shield them from further attacks.
In the relative safety of Ra Zheng’s stronghold, Yue Qi is rushed to a hidden medical chamber where Zao Baocung, the skilled healer, awaits. The elderly druid moves swiftly, his hands steady as he assesses Yue Qi’s injuries.
“The wounds are deep, but his spirit is strong. He will recover, but it will take time.”
Chu Qiao stands nearby, her expression unreadable but her fists clenched tightly. Despite the victory of retrieving Yue Qi, the losses weigh heavily on her.
“Do whatever it takes. He’s not just a soldier—he’s family.”
Zao Baocung nods, his focus unwavering.
Back in his command tent, Ra Yue reviews the aftermath of the battle. His forces are battered, and morale is low, but his mind is already working on the next step. He knows they cannot continue to face the Gorge Spies head-on.
Ra Yue visits Yue Qi and, looking at his condition, he sees he needs time to heal. He then says: “The Queen’s strength lies in her belief that we will fight her on her terms. We must show her otherwise. Prepare the decoys. Let her spies chase shadows while we rebuild.”
His officers nod, their trust in Ra Yue unwavering despite the heavy losses.
While Yue Qi recovers, Viper and Zuo Zong execute their counteroffensive measures. Using intelligence gathered from the Jianghu spies, they launch surgical strikes against isolated Gorge Spy units, leveraging traps and guerrilla tactics to turn the terrain against them. Though the Gorge Spies’ monstrous nature makes them formidable, Viper’s precision and Zuo Zong’s combat prowess begin to shift the balance.
“They think themselves untouchable. Let’s show them the price of arrogance.”
The night is heavy with tension, the faint glow of the moon barely illuminating the dense forest where Viper and Zuo Zong prepare to face the deadly Gorge Spies. The air is cold, sharp with the scent of earth and blood. Somewhere in the shadows, the elite assassins lie in wait, their monstrous presence palpable.
Viper tightens her grip on her weapon—a sleek whip that shimmers faintly, its glow-in-the-dark threads designed to disorient her foes. Beside her, Zuo Zong stands poised, his body relaxed but his eyes sharp, the calm before a storm. Their enemies are close, and the first strike is inevitable.
A faint rustle in the bushes is the only warning they get before the Black Vulture, Shadow Dancer, Crimson Pike, and Ember Crow emerge, their movements as silent as death. The Gorge Spies fan out, their predatory gazes locked on the pair.
“Two against the best of the Gorge? Brave—or foolish,” said the Black Vulture.
Viper smirks and gives him a mocking look. “We’ll see who the fools are soon enough. You haven’t had enough of the underworld?”
“You claim to be the fiercest and most horrific spies and assassins of the underworld, but you’re still not as beastly as we are. You are all useless!” Black Vulture lets out a mocking laugh.
Without warning, Viper’s whip snaps forward, its luminescent threads cutting through the darkness. The Black Vulture dodges, his gaunt figure darting to the side, but the Shadow Dancer, swift as she is, isn’t fast enough. The whip coils around her wrist, the glow casting eerie shadows across her face as she gasps in pain.
Shadow Dancer attempts to retaliate, her curved short sword slicing through the air, but Viper is faster. With a flick of her wrist, the whip pulls taut, jerking the assassin off balance. Viper spins, her movements fluid and deadly, and delivers a sharp kick to Shadow Dancer’s ribs, sending her crashing to the ground. She is badly injured.
The Black Vulture lunges forward, his serrated daggers glinting ominously. Viper meets him head-on, her whip dancing around her like a cobra striking his muscles. The two engage in a brutal exchange, his blades clashing against the glowing threads in a flurry of sparks.
With a sudden twist, Viper maneuvers her whip around the Black Vulture’s legs and pulls, sending him sprawling. Before he can recover, she leaps, driving the heel of her boot into his chest. The sound of ribs cracking fills the air, and the Black Vulture lets out a painful groan.
Shadow Dancer, mortally wounded, struggles to rise, but Viper finishes her off with a precise strike of her whip, the glowing threads cutting cleanly across her throat.
Viper coldly says, “Useless, eh? Where’s your vigor? Is this all the Black Vulture, the commander of the Gorge Spies, can do? You won’t be able to stand for a week without crutches!”
While Viper battles the Black Vulture and Shadow Dancer, Crimson Pike charges at Zuo Zong, his massive spear cutting through the air with deadly force. The ground shakes with every step of the hulking man, his tribal tattoos seeming to writhe in the dim light.
Crimson Pike prefers insults over action. “Your kung fu tricks won’t save you, boy. Face me!”
Zuo Zong, calm and composed, shifts into a Tai Chi stance, his movements deliberate and precise. As the spear thrusts toward him, he deflects it with a graceful sweep of his arm, redirecting the attack with minimal effort. The spear strikes the ground, missing him by inches.
“Brute strength without discipline is nothing.” Zuo Zong closes his eyes, listening to the hunting winds, his pulse and veins attuned to the vibrations around him. His opponent is oblivious to the damage martial arts can do, continuing to laugh at him.
The two engage in a fierce duel, Crimson Pike’s raw power clashing against Zuo Zong’s fluidity and precision. Each thrust of the spear is met with a calculated parry, and Zuo Zong begins to turn the momentum of the fight.
Suddenly, Ember Crow enters the fray, hurling smoke bombs that explode around Zuo Zong, filling the air with choking clouds. The chaos doesn’t faze Zuo Zong. Using his mastery of Tai Chi, he anticipates their movements even in the smoke. With a series of rapid, flowing strikes, he disarms Ember Crow, sending his explosives scattering harmlessly to the ground.
“You rely too much on tricks. Let me show you true power.”
In a single, seamless motion, Zuo Zong pivots, his movements an elegant dance of destruction. His strike aimed at Crimson Pike’s knee forces the massive man to drop to the ground with a pained roar. Pivoting again, Zuo Zong delivers a powerful palm strike to Ember Crow’s chest, sending him flying into a tree.
With the Black Vulture incapacitated and Shadow Dancer dead, Viper turns her attention to the fallen Crimson Pike, who struggles to rise despite his shattered knee. She approaches slowly, her glowing whip trailing behind her like a serpent.
“Even if you are to eat everyone alive, you are no match for me. It’s over. Take a knee—and stay there.” Viper’s eyes glow with fire, and as she struggles to control her glowing, burning whip, it only intensifies, sending everyone into a hellish environment. No one dares to counterattack.
She cracks the whip, the sound echoing through the forest. Crimson Pike snarls but does not move to attack. He knows the fight is lost.
Zuo Zong says, “They disappointed me! Let’s make sure they remember this lesson, and I took the life of their Shadow Dancer. I am sure they will avenge her death, and there is no end to this bloodbath! Let’s go!”
With a final snap of her whip, Viper cuts Crimson Pike’s weapon in half, leaving him defenseless. The remaining Gorge Spies retreat into the shadows, their monstrous confidence shaken by the loss.
As the dust settles, Viper and Zuo Zong stand victorious but weary. The bodies of the fallen Gorge Spies lie scattered around them, a testament to the brutal battle.
Xiao Yu sits in her private chambers, her delicate fingers tracing the edges of a blank parchment. Her mind is racing with anger and desperation. The cryptic note she drafts is both a veiled warning and an acknowledgment of her position.
To the Crown Prince of Qinghai, Keeper of Justice and Balance,
The King of Yanbei remains under your hand, a pawn in your calculated justice. Yet, his sentence serves more than Qinghai’s peace—it serves to remind us all of the delicate threads that tie us together, threads that are fraying as they are.
But even threads can become a noose, should you choose the wrong path. Remember, the winds of war do not favor a single direction.
– Li Jian
Xiao Yu seals the note with her personal insignia—a silver hawk in flight—and sends it via her fastest courier. Yet, even as she does, she knows that Yuwen Yue’s reply will bring no solace.
The reply arrives in a plain envelope, its wax seal bearing no mark—an intentional obscurity designed to heighten its cryptic tone. The parchment is of fine quality, but the handwriting is precise, sharp, and calculated, reflecting the disciplined mind behind the words.
To the Soaring Hawk, Unseen Yet Not Unnoticed,
The winds whisper truths often obscured by the noise of ambition and desperation. You ask about The Swallows—his fate interwoven with paths he has tread uninvited. Trespass is not merely an act of feet crossing boundaries but of hearts burdened with intentions that disrupt the balance. For such actions, a sentence is but a natural consequence.
Know this: a kingdom is not secured by its edges but by the stillness of its center. Qinghai is such a center, and all who disturb its calm will find the ripples returned to them tenfold. The one you speak of now carries his sentence not out of malice, but necessity. Even a lion must learn humility when it steps into another’s den unbidden.
You wonder perhaps what choices remain. But I ask you—what outcome do you seek from threads already frayed? A hawk may soar high, yet even it cannot outfly the storm. Some battles are fought not in the arena but in silence, and some victories are carved from the acceptance of loss.
Balance is my oath, as it has always been. It is not swayed by pleadings nor weighted by sentiment. The Swallows, like all who walk precarious paths, must bear the weight of their own shadow.
Time, as you well know, reveals the truths we often seek to bury. Until then, remember: the greatest moves are made when no one watches, and the smallest tremors shift the largest stones.
—Y. Yue
Xiao Yu’s spy network, the Sky Shadow Assassins, delivers troubling news: Dong Fangyi, the chaos instigator, has allied with Queen Zhueje. The implications are staggering. Dong Fangyi, with his manipulative cunning and penchant for destruction, has already begun recruiting Underworld spies, adding another deadly layer to Zhueje’s forces.
Her trusted operative, Tao Ye, approaches her with more details.
“Dong Fangyi has extended an olive branch to the Queen of Yanbei, offering to aid her in either saving Yan Xun or opening trade negotiations with Zhueje. The implications could shift the balance of power.”
Xiao Yu’s jaw tightens, her mind racing.
“Dong Fangyi thrives in chaos. He sees war as an opportunity to reshape the world in his image. If Queen Zhueje accepts his aid, her forces will become nearly invincible.”
The convergence of powers becomes a grim reality. Queen Zhueje, strengthened by Dong Fangyi’s cunning and resources, merges her army with the Sky Shadow Assassins and Underworld spies scattered under Lou He and Zhong Yu. Their combined forces prepare to deliver a devastating blow to the fractured alliances of Qinghai, the Moon Kingdom, and Yanbei.
In Zhueje’s war council, the leaders of this unholy alliance gather.
“The Silver Prince is clever, but even he cannot outmaneuver three forces working as one. He relies on precision, but chaos is a storm he cannot weather.”
“Let us see how his cleverness holds when his armies burn.”
The war escalates beyond mortal combat as the alliances call upon ancient powers.
Urshan, the Hermit Mystic, is disturbed from his peaceful life and reluctantly agrees to join the war. His mastery of elemental forces becomes a key weapon for the Qinghai alliance. Zao Baocung, the druid priest of the Moon Kingdom, summons nature’s wrath to counter the darkness spreading through the land. Lou He and the Sand Drizzle Master: Their rivalry intensifies as the enigmatic Sand Drizzle Master, a figure of ethereal skill, challenges Lou He’s dominance over the Underworld spies. Chu Qiao and Viper: Chu Qiao, ever the tactician, prepares her Jianghu operatives and Viper for the ultimate battle. Their goal: disrupt the alliance’s magical reinforcements and protect Ra Yue, helping Yue Qi’s recovery.
The final war erupts across multiple fronts, blending the physical and the supernatural. The battlefield becomes a tapestry of chaos, where ancient enchantments collide with martial mastery. Sky Shadow Assassins rain down from the skies, their movements synchronized with supernatural precision. Underworld Spies, bolstered by dark enchantments, create illusions that confuse and divide their enemies. Queen Zhueje’s forces, enhanced by Dong Fangyi’s manipulative tactics, unleash devastating attacks on the Qinghai outposts and Moon Kingdom borders.
Ra Yue, commanding the Qinghai military, remains composed despite the overwhelming odds. His voice carries through the chaos as he directs his forces with calculated precision.
Ra Yue: “Do not fear their tricks. They are only as powerful as the fear they inspire. Stand firm!”
Amid the chaos, a duel unfolds that captures the attention of both sides. Lou He, the Master of the Underworld Spies, faces off against his old companion and friend, the Sand Drizzle Master, or Dong Fangyi. Their battle is one of sheer brilliance, a clash of light and shadow.
Lou He manipulates the battlefield with shadow constructs, each attack a deceptive blend of illusion and reality. Sand Drizzle Master, with movements as fluid as drifting sand, counters each strike with precision, turning the battlefield into a swirling storm of sand and light.
Their duel escalates, each strike reverberating with the force of ancient power.
Lou He: “You cannot defeat darkness—it is eternal.”
Sand Drizzle Master: “But light always reveals the truth.”
Lou He: “You are no light! You are also under the dark world order!”
As the battle rages, Chu Qiao finds a moment to look at Yan Xun from afar. His punishment in Qinghai, though humiliating, has not broken him. He works tirelessly, his once-proud demeanor now subdued but unyielding, with no regard for the war up front.
Chu Qiao’s thoughts are heavy as she watches him. She recalls the man he once was—the king consumed by vengeance—and feels only a hollow ache.
“I clothed you in hatred because it was the only way to keep you alive. But now, what remains of the man I once knew?”
Despite her resolve to keep her distance, she whispers softly, as if hoping the wind might carry her words.
“Stay strong, Yan Xun. When this is over, I will fulfill my promises to Douji and A’Jing. Your freedom will not be forgotten.”
The sky over Qinghai is streaked with hues of red and gold, as if the heavens themselves are bleeding. The wind carries the faint scent of ash and earth, a reminder of the battles fought and the lives lost. The once-vibrant trade routes now lie quiet, their bustling markets silenced by the looming shadow of war.
Amid the stillness, Ra Yue stands atop a watchtower overlooking the desolate plains. His calm, serene, and weary eyes scan the horizon, where the faint outlines of enemy forces linger like ghosts. His cloak billows in the wind, a stark contrast to the crimson-stained earth below.
In the villages, whispers of dread spread like wildfire. Families huddle together, their faces etched with fear. The elders speak in hushed tones of the “red silk,” a metaphor for the blood spilled over the riches that once flowed through Qinghai’s gates.
In the Moon Kingdom, Chu Qiao gazes at the horizon from her chamber in the Diamond Hall. The soft glow of lanterns reflects in her eyes, filled with a mix of determination and sorrow. The Jianghu operatives prepare silently, their movements precise and deliberate. The tension is evident, each shadow in the hall seeming to carry the weight of impending doom.
The silk road runs through us all—woven with ambition, stained by sacrifice. Will we ever find a way to walk its length without blood marking our path?
In a hidden camp, the Black Vulture lies injured, his breaths shallow as his surviving subordinates tend to him. The embers of their dying fire crackle faintly, casting flickering shadows that dance like specters. The spies speak in hushed voices, their confidence shaken by their recent defeat.
Black Vulture whispers, “Even a red silk thread can strangle a kingdom. We are not finished. Not yet.” He hands over a secret weapon to the Writhe Weaver Gorge Spy.
In a secluded grove, Zao Baocung prepares his herbs and chants softly under the light of the moon. The air hums with ancient power, a quiet yet potent force that stands in stark contrast to the chaos raging outside. He pauses, his hands resting on the smooth surface of a bowl.
“Blood has watered the roots of history for too long. If the Silk Road must remain red, let it also carry hope amidst the chaos.”
In a fortified chamber, Ra Zheng studies a map of Qinghai and its surroundings, his expression unreadable. His generals argue around him, their voices filled with fear and ambition. But Ra Zheng remains silent, his fingers tracing the lines of the Silk Road.
“History repeats itself. Wealth, power, ambition—they all flow through these roads, leaving blood in their wake. If Qinghai falls, it will not be to an enemy’s blade, but to the weight of its own silk.”
He rises, his voice calm but commanding.
“Prepare the defenses. And send word to the Moon Kingdom—we stand together, or we fall alone.”
The air is thick with the promise of another battle, the red-tinged sky a harbinger of the blood yet to be spilled.
The Silk Road, once a symbol of prosperity, now serves as a reminder of the cost of ambition—a thread woven with both hope and despair, its length marred by the stains of countless wars.
“Whenever the Silk Road is Red, Many Fought a War Over Silk.”
This phrase carries profound layers of meaning, both literal and symbolic, woven into the tapestry of history, commerce, and human ambition. The Silk Road, a vital trade network connecting East and West, symbolizes wealth, culture, and the unyielding march of progress. Yet, it also stands as a testament to the bloodshed and conflicts that arise when the threads of commerce become entangled in greed and power struggles.
The Silk Road, named for the luxurious silk traded along its routes, became a lifeline for empires, merchants, and travelers. The “red” signifies the blood spilled in the countless battles fought to control this network. The pursuit of silk—both as a commodity and as a symbol of status—often led to wars, piracy, and territorial disputes.
“Whenever the Silk Road is red, many fought a war over silk” also speaks to the eternal human conflict between creation and destruction. Silk, a marvel of human ingenuity, becomes a symbol of both unity and division. It underscores the paradox of progress: how the same thing that connects us can also divide us.
In the context of Qinghai, this phrase resonates deeply. The war raging over Qinghai’s strategic position mirrors the historical battles fought over the Silk Road. Qinghai, like the fabled trade route, becomes a symbol of power, prosperity, and the devastating cost of ambition.
Chapter 96
Vastness
“Part of me felt like we should have made it. Yet, the other side of me feels like we’re doomed even from the start.”
Queen Zhueje, the reigning monarch of chaos, is the embodiment of regal terror and commanding presence. Her tall, lithe frame is enveloped in flowing robes of deep crimson and obsidian black, adorned with intricate designs of coiling hawks and jagged thorns. The fabric shimmers like molten fire with her every movement, casting an ethereal aura around her. Her pale, flawless skin contrasts sharply with her raven-black hair, which is meticulously styled into a crown of braids embellished with silver serpents and crimson gemstones. Her face is a mask of cold beauty, with sharp features that frame her piercing, inhuman golden eyes—eyes that seem to burn through falsehoods and expose weakness. Around her neck rests a blackened steel choker set with a single blood-red ruby, rumored to contain the essence of her most loyal assassin. Her hands, thin but deceptively strong, are decorated with claw-like rings etched with ancient runes of command and fear. In her grasp, she wields a polished onyx staff tipped with a shard of glowing red crystal, symbolizing her unyielding dominance.
In the shadows of her kingdom, the Gorge Spies, Queen Zhueje’s elite assassins, serve as her most formidable and deadly weapon. Though their ranks have been thinned by recent battles, the surviving members are unparalleled in their skill and unwavering in their loyalty. Each assassin possesses a distinct style, deadly abilities, and a signature move that solidifies their feared reputation.
Writhe Weaver, a gaunt figure draped in a web-like shroud of silver and black threads, is an enigma of movement and sensory manipulation. Her eerie violet eyes peer through a veiled face, and her ability to spin webs of shadow and energy makes her a master of both illusion and entrapment. Black Vulture, skeletal in appearance and clad in spiked leather armor adorned with feathers, strikes from the shadows with unparalleled precision. His haunting whistle unnerves enemies, leaving them defenseless against his blades. Crimson Pike, an imposing giant clad in crimson-scaled armor, wields a massive blood-red spear with devastating force. His shockwave assaults and fiery attacks are the stuff of legends. Lastly, Ember Crow, a wiry figure with unnaturally flexible joints, moves with acrobatic grace and lethal efficiency. His predatory eyes gleam as he wields dual daggers in a blur of strikes that leave no room for retaliation.
Within the foreboding Ebon Throne Room, Queen Zhueje summons her assassins. The room’s blackened stone walls, adorned with banners of her sigil—a crimson hawk ripping through twisted thorns—exude an aura of menace. The air hums with a sinister energy, and faint whispers seem to rise from the shadows. Her voice, cold and commanding, cuts through the oppressive silence.
“The tides of war have tested our strength, but the Gorge Spies remain unbroken,” she declares, her golden gaze piercing each assassin in turn. “You, my loyal blades, are the instruments of my wrath. The Moon Kingdom and Qinghai believe they can resist us, but they have not yet tasted the full fury of chaos.”
She issues their commands with a precision that matches her ruthless intent. Writhe Weaver is to ensnare the leaders of the enemy, dragging them into despair. Black Vulture will silence the whispers of hope among their ranks. Crimson Pike is tasked with reducing their forces to ash, while Ember Crow must strike at the hearts of their most resolute defenders. Bowing deeply, the Gorge Spies pledge their loyalty, prepared to bring her vision of annihilation to life.
The ensuing clash is a nightmarish symphony of blood and chaos. Writhe Weaver’s webs stretch across the battlefield, binding enemies in intricate traps while casting disorienting illusions that lead seasoned soldiers to attack phantoms. Black Vulture moves like a shadow, his eerie whistle unnerving the enemy as his blades strike with deadly precision. Crimson Pike charges through the battlefield, his massive spear cleaving through ranks, his shockwaves toppling entire squads. Ember Crow twists and flips with impossible agility, his dual daggers carving a deadly path through the chaos.
Despite their brutal efficiency, the spies meet formidable resistance. Writhe Weaver’s web constructs are severed by a coordinated Jianghu assault, forcing her to retreat. Black Vulture is gravely wounded by a counterattack from Viper and stumbles into the shadows, vowing revenge. Crimson Pike’s fiery spear is extinguished in the mud of the battlefield as he falls to the blade of Zuo Zong. Ember Crow, though injured, uses his agility to escape, narrowly avoiding death.
As the battlefield falls silent, the aftermath reveals the cost of their efforts. The spies have left a trail of devastation, yet their own vulnerabilities have been exposed. The chapter closes with a reflection on the fragile balance between unparalleled skill and the resolve of those who refuse to succumb to chaos. Queen Zhueje’s empire, though mighty, begins to show cracks that hint at the trials yet to come.
After Lou He’s sacrifice to protect Chu Qiao, she retreated to the distant Hellfrost Realms and later returned to the Moon Kingdom, unable to recognize her family but faintly recalling her past empire and subordinate, Master Zhong Yu. This loss of memory was the price she paid, trading her recollections in the Ersatz Realm to shield Chu Qiao.
The mystical Higanbana flower split into two powers: the black flower bound Lou He as a protector, while the red flower marked Chu Qiao as a warrior. Yuwen Yue attempted to prevent Lou He from sacrificing herself but was stopped by her decisive counter. In the aftermath, Lou He offered herself to the Feng Yun Faling Decree, losing her memories and sealing the Ersatz Realm into oblivion, leaving her tied to the underworld’s winds and clouds.
The Wind and Cloud Decree split, offering a fragile hope for peace. Lou He became a servant bound to protect the decree, while Chu Qiao embraced her role as its warrior, fighting for justice and freedom. Both now symbolize a delicate balance, their fates intertwined by sacrifice and purpose, as they bear the weight of the decree and its power.
In the wake of her sacrifice and the immense trials she faced, Lou He regrouped the scattered Underworld Spies, forging them into a unified force of unparalleled power and mysticism. This clandestine network, led by the enigmatic Lou He herself, became a formidable collective of the realm’s most dangerous and elemental operatives. Their mastery of martial arts and elemental forces made them not only feared assassins but agents of chaos and nature’s fury. Each member embodied a unique facet of darkness and destruction, serving as harbingers of balance in a fractured world.
As their leader, Lou He was a figure of unmatched authority and control. Draped in flowing white robes adorned with storm motifs, her commanding presence was both awe-inspiring and fearsome. Her piercing gray eyes and the thunderbolt-shaped pendant she wore symbolized her command over elemental storms, while the ancient stormwood staff she wielded channeled her power into devastating strikes.
Lou He’s unparalleled abilities allowed her to summon storms, direct wind currents, and unleash lightning with surgical precision. Her commanding voice could rally her operatives or strike terror into her enemies, while her signature move, Thunderclap Wrath, brought forth a surge of lightning capable of annihilating all who stood before her.
Zhong Yu, known as the Blue Feather Girl, Master of Chiyu Jian Martial arts, an ex-General of Yanbei, was a figure of ethereal beauty and untamed power. Her azure robes shimmered like iridescent feathers, and her calm yet determined demeanor concealed the tempest within her. Her mastery of cloud manipulation enabled her to obscure vision, summon storms, and disorient enemies with rain or hail. As an aerial combatant, her agility and control of the winds made her nearly invincible. Her signature move, Azure Tempest, unleashed a vortex of wind and rain that left devastation in its wake.
The Urshan, a towering figure cloaked in shifting shadows, embodied primal terror. Its glowing red eyes and guttural growls struck fear into even the bravest foes. With unmatched brute strength and the ability to manipulate shadows, The Urshan created weapons, barriers, and illusions that overwhelmed enemies. Its signature move, Eclipse Strike, combined raw physical power with shadow manipulation to deliver obliterating attacks.
Keeper of shadows and souls
Long before The Urshan became the spectral ferryman of the Forgotten River leasing souls to the Afterlife realms, he was a mortal—a warrior known as Urshan the Indomitable. In life, Urshan was a protector of the realm, renowned for his unmatched strength and unyielding loyalty to his kingdom. However, his valor came at a cost. Bound by duty, he sacrificed personal connections and love, dedicating himself solely to the protection of his people.
Urshan’s turning point came during the War of Ashen Shadows, where the kingdom faced an invasion by otherworldly forces. Leading his army into the fray, Urshan sought victory at any cost. In the climactic battle, he invoked an ancient and forbidden power—the Song of Oblivion. This dark incantation called upon the shadows themselves to fight alongside him. Though victorious, the price was steep: the shadowy entities demanded his soul as payment.
The Forgotten River became Urshan’s eternal domain. As its ferryman, he rows the worn-out boat across its dark, swirling waters, guiding lost and forgotten souls to their final destinations. He embodies the boundary between life and death, and no soul may pass into the afterlife without his consent. Yet, this role is not without its torments. Every soul he ferries reminds him of his own lost humanity—a past he can no longer reclaim.
Urshan’s shadowy form reflects his role as a bridge between realms. His glowing red eyes pierce the gloom, and his guttural growl sends shivers through even the bravest of mortals. Though his appearance is fearsome, he is not inherently malevolent. He is a being bound by duty, fulfilling the terms of the pact he made long ago.
Urshan’s relationship with Lou He is steeped in complexity, shaped by both respect and duty. Long ago, before Lou He became the Stormbringer and leader of the Underworld Spies, she crossed paths with Urshan during her own descent into the underworld. At that time, Lou He sought the Forgotten River’s power to save her people, and her determination to sacrifice herself for others resonated deeply with the fractured humanity within Urshan.
In Lou He, Urshan saw a reflection of the selflessness he had once upheld. Her resolve to trade her memories for the safety of Chu Qiao reminded him of his own ultimate sacrifice. Despite his cold demeanor, he allowed her passage through the Forgotten River—a rare act of leniency. In return, Lou He acknowledged the heavy burden he carried as the river’s guardian, offering him the respect of an equal rather than treating him as a monster. This unspoken understanding forged a bond between them, even as their paths diverged.
When Lou He later ascended to lead the Underworld Spies, Urshan observed her from the shadows, recognizing her as a force of balance much like himself. While bound to his duty in the Forgotten River, he became a silent protector of Lou He’s legacy, occasionally aiding her operatives when their missions crossed the realms of the living and the dead.
The bond between Urshan and Lou He began with her first crossing into the Forgotten River. As Lou He ventured into the shadowy domain, her unwavering resolve to sacrifice herself for the sake of others deeply moved Urshan. For centuries, his mortal values had been buried beneath his shadowy existence, but Lou He’s selflessness reminded him of the humanity he had long believed lost. In allowing her passage, Urshan silently acknowledged her bravery and commitment, forming the foundation of their mutual respect.
This respect deepened when Lou He split the Higanbana flower to protect Chu Qiao. Though bound by the constraints of the Forgotten River, Urshan bore witness to this pivotal act of sacrifice. He recognized it as a profound moment of balance, a continuation of the harmony they both sought to uphold in their respective realms. Her choice to bear such a cost resonated with him, reflecting his own commitment to preserving equilibrium.
Their bond was further solidified when Viper defied the laws of the Forgotten River, threatening its delicate order. Though Urshan struggled to maintain the realm’s stability, Lou He intervened indirectly, ensuring the disruption did not spiral into chaos. This act demonstrated her deep understanding of the fragile balance Urshan worked tirelessly to protect. For Urshan, her intervention was not only a testament to her strength but also a validation of their shared purpose. Together, these moments wove a relationship defined by sacrifice, duty, and an unwavering commitment to the preservation of balance across the realms.
Urshan is a being of contradictions. He is both predator and protector, a servant of balance and a prisoner of his own past. Though his demeanor is often cold and menacing, glimpses of his former self occasionally surface, especially when faced with acts of bravery or selflessness. His interactions with Lou He reignited fragments of his humanity, reminding him of the values he once stood for.
Urshan views his existence as penance for his mortal arrogance. He understands the importance of his role, yet yearns for freedom from its shackles. Lou He’s presence serves as a reminder of the delicate balance he seeks to uphold and the possibility of redemption, even for a soul as fractured as his own.
The connection between Lou He and Urshan symbolizes the intersection of sacrifice and duty. Both figures have given up pieces of themselves to protect the realms, and their mutual respect reflects their shared understanding of the burdens they bear. Where Urshan represents the inevitability of fate, Lou He embodies the power to choose sacrifice willingly, even in the face of insurmountable odds.
Together, they serve as dual guardians of balance—Urshan in the shadows of the afterlife and Lou He in the chaotic storms of the living realm. Their bond, though subtle, underscores the interconnectedness of the mortal and the eternal.
When the war ended, Urshan found himself bound to the Forgotten River, transformed into an eternal guardian of its mysteries. Stripped of his mortal form, he became a creature of shadows, his humanity replaced by a primal and predatory presence. His once-noble mission to protect the realm twisted into the grim duty of shepherding souls to the afterlife, ensuring the balance between the mortal world and the realms beyond.
The Oracle, once guardian of the Ersatz realm, retreated to Hellfrost after their realm was overthrown into oblivion. She was a mystic cloaked in violet robes, her face hidden by a bone mask etched with glowing runes. Her foresight and deep understanding of hidden truths allowed her to guide her allies with tactical precision. She wielded mystical energy for both offensive and defensive purposes and could summon spectral warriors to assist in battle. Her signature move, Ethereal Swarm, unleashed a horde of ghostly figures that struck with terrifying precision.
The Undertale Dragon, a massive, serpentine beast, cloaked itself in darkness. Its shimmering black and silver scales radiated menace, and its glowing amber eyes emanated malice. Despite its immense size, it was swift and agile, creating powerful gusts with its wings. Its shadowfire breath consumed everything in its path, while its ultimate attack, Void Inferno, obliterated entire areas with concentrated shadowfire.
In the shadowy depths of the underworld, elite figures operate beyond the reach of ordinary mortals, each a master of their craft. These operatives are the most feared and revered within their circles, wielding extraordinary powers and lethal skills to enforce their will and achieve their goals. Whether through stealth, raw power, manipulation, or the elements, they command their domains with ruthless efficiency. Meet the underworld’s finest: the silent assassin, the flame-wielding sorcerer, the unrelenting warrior, and the enigmatic illusionist. Together, they form an unstoppable force, shaping the balance of power in the darkest corners of existence.
In this battle, the Key Underworld Operatives finally stepped out from the shadows, revealing their true powers in a display of dominance and precision. No longer lurking unseen, they unleashed their full arsenal of shadow-infused abilities to turn the tide of the fight. Shade Fang, the Silent Stalker, struck with deadly precision, his venom-coated daggers paralyzing opponents with a single blow. Crimson Veil, the Flame Phantom, commanded her enchanted fire to form impenetrable barriers and devastate enemies with searing attacks. Obsidian Claw, the Savage Warrior, overwhelmed foes with brute strength, delivering crushing blows with his spiked gauntlets and bursts of dark energy. Mist Whisper, the Illusionist, disoriented and outmaneuvered adversaries, her mastery of smoke and mirrors creating chaos on the battlefield. Together, their diverse and formidable skills proved unstoppable, showcasing why they are legends of the underworld.
Dong Fangyi was a man of contradictions, embodying both serenity and ferocity. His presence alone spoke volumes—an enigmatic force of nature weathered by years of wandering the unforgiving desert. His skin bore the marks of countless days beneath a punishing sun, and his face was partially obscured by a sand-colored scarf that moved gently with the desert winds. His piercing amber eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, revealed both the wisdom of a strategist and the ruthlessness of a chaos-bringer. Framing his face, long, unkempt hair cascaded down his shoulders, streaked with gray strands of age and experience.
The desert itself seemed reflected in Dong Fangyi’s appearance. His robes, dyed in muted golds and beiges, mirrored the hues of shifting dunes, and their intricate embroidery mimicked the patterns of wind-swept sand. Around his waist hung vials of enchanted sand, each holding the potential to unleash devastating storms or weave illusions to confound his enemies. His hands, calloused and strong, gripped a tall staff carved from ancient desert wood, its crystalline orb radiating a faint, otherworldly glow.
Far from the glaring desert sun, deep within a shadowy cavern, Dong Fangyi stood at the center of a dark ritual. The chamber was alive with flickering braziers, their flames casting erratic shadows on walls adorned with ancient carvings. These intricate reliefs told stories of blood-soaked battles, shattered alliances, and betrayals that time had tried to erase. Yet their echoes lingered, engraved in stone and memory.
Before him lay six weathered stone coffins, each sealed with glowing runes of binding. These were no ordinary tombs. Inside rested the Underworld Spies—beings of unparalleled destruction, bound in magical sleep for centuries. Each coffin radiated an ominous energy, the latent power within them palpable in the cold, oppressive air. Dong Fangyi, now a shadow of his former self, stood as both their summoner and their master.
But this was not who he had always been.
The Moon Kingdom’s Keeper Now Harbinger
Long ago, Dong Fangyi had been the fierce protector of the Moon Kingdom, a loyal follower of Lou He, the kingdom’s enlightened ruler. Known as the Keeper of the Moon, he wielded immense power to safeguard the royal family and the celestial balance their realm represented. His loyalty to Lou He had been absolute, his devotion unwavering. Under Lou He’s guidance, he believed in the sanctity of their mission—to uphold the divine will and protect the weak from the chaos of mortal ambitions.
But that faith had been shattered.
The turning point came during the last celestial warfare, a conflict that scarred the heavens and earth alike. In this catastrophic battle, Yuwen Hao, the enigmatic Master of the Eyes of the God, unleashed an unthinkable power. His celestial gaze could pierce the fabric of reality itself, a force capable of destroying armies with a single glance. Yuwen Hao’s betrayal of Lou He marked the downfall of the Moon Kingdom, and with it, the obliteration of everything Dong Fangyi had once sworn to protect.
Dong Fangyi had fought valiantly, leading the kingdom’s forces alongside Lou He in a desperate bid to repel Yuwen Hao’s onslaught. But the devastation was absolute. The royal family was annihilated, their celestial bloodline extinguished in a massacre that haunted Dong Fangyi’s every waking moment. The Moon Kingdom fell, its luminous towers reduced to ruins, and its once-vibrant gardens turned to ash.
In the aftermath, Dong Fangyi sought answers from Lou He, expecting solace, a plan for renewal, or at least an acknowledgment of their shared loss. But Lou He’s response was silence—cold and distant. Dong Fangyi saw no reflection of grief or resolve in his former leader’s eyes, only a hollow resignation. It was in this moment that Dong Fangyi felt the first crack in his loyalty. He had sacrificed everything, yet Lou He seemed unwilling or unable to reclaim what they had lost.
Bitterness took root in his heart, spreading like a shadow that grew darker with each passing year. The Keeper of the Moon was no more. In his place rose a man disillusioned with oaths, alliances, and the fragility of loyalty. Driven by anger and despair, Dong Fangyi turned away from the ideals that had once defined him. He sought power not as a means of protection, but as a tool of retribution. The betrayal by Yuwen Hao and Lou He had taught him one immutable truth: loyalty was a weapon wielded by the powerful to shackle the strong. If he were to rise again, it would not be as a follower, but as a master.
He delved into the forbidden arts, scouring ancient texts and forgotten ruins for knowledge that could tip the scales of power in his favor. His quest led him to the shadowy cavern, where the Underworld Spies—the harbingers of chaos—had been sealed. They were legends whispered in fear, warriors of unparalleled skill and destruction, bound by ancient magic for crimes that defied understanding. Dong Fangyi saw in them the means to fulfill his dark ambitions.
As he stood before their coffins, his voice rang out in the cavern, weaving incantations that resonated with the walls themselves. The runes sealing the coffins began to glow brighter, pulsating with the rhythm of his chants. One by one, the bindings shattered, releasing bursts of energy that crackled through the air like lightning. The slumbering figures stirred, their eyes opening to the dim light of the cavern. Dong Fangyi gazed at his newly awakened soldiers, his expression resolute. He had traded the light of the Moon Kingdom for the darkness of his newfound purpose. No longer a Keeper, he now sought to become a force that no one could betray—a master who would reshape the world according to his own design.
Yet, in the shadows of his mind, fragments of his past still lingered. The memories of Lou He’s teachings, the bonds forged in the Moon Kingdom, and the sacrifice of countless lives were not easily forgotten. Beneath his calculated demeanor, a part of him wondered if vengeance would truly heal the wounds carved into his soul—or if he had become as hollow as the ruins he sought to avenge.
For now, such thoughts were silenced. The Underworld Spies stood ready, and Dong Fangyi would lead them not as a follower, but as their master. Together, they would bring the world to its knees.
Memory of Sacrifice
As Yuwen Hao’s calm yet icy gaze locked onto his, Wu Dao Yao felt the battlefield fade around him. His mind was unwillingly drawn to the past—the day that forever changed him. It was the day Dong Fangyi, their unyielding comrade, made the ultimate sacrifice. The scene replayed vividly in his memory: Dong Fangyi, standing tall amidst the chaos of celestial warfare, his robes torn and bloodied, yet his voice unwavering as he roared above the din of battle.
“Go! Save the Secret Princess and her protector! I’ll hold them back until my last breath. Go, General Wu!”
For a fleeting moment, Wu Dao Yao had faltered. Every fiber of his being wanted to remain by his friend’s side, to fight until their last moments together. But the weight of Dong Fangyi’s command left no room for disobedience. His promise had been clear, his tone resolute.
“Hold it until I come back,” Wu Dao Yao had sworn, his voice cracking with emotion. “I will save the children and return for you.”
Yet the fates were cruel. By the time he returned, the battle was over. Dong Fangyi’s broken body lay among the ruins, his blood mingling with the crushed petals of dandelions carried on the wind. Wu Dao Yao rushed to him, but there was nothing left to save. Even in death, Dong Fangyi seemed to hold onto his duty. His lips moved weakly, whispering Wu Dao Yao’s name before the light faded from his eyes.
The memory was a scar that time could not heal, a reminder of a promise unfulfilled. The weight of that regret bore down on him every day, carving guilt into his soul.
Beyond the Grave
As Wu Dao Yao stood at the edge of the cliff, battered and broken, it felt as though Dong Fangyi’s voice rose from the past, resonating within the hollow spaces of his mind. The words seemed tangible, as if carried on the wind itself.
“I am dead,” the voice seemed to say, calm yet haunting. “But death is freedom from this world’s burdens. There is no more you, no more pain, no more need for love or hate. When you reach that point, remember, I have bestowed you this grace.”
Wu Dao Yao closed his eyes, his heart heavy with the weight of those imagined words. Dong Fangyi had always carried wisdom, even in moments of despair. But the thought of his friend embracing death as solace struck him like a dagger.
Lifting a trembling hand, he held a single white dandelion that had fallen into his palm, its fragile petals a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding him. With a faint whisper, he spoke, his voice breaking under the strain of his injuries.
“I do not expect gratitude, but I demand respect. Let me free your soul for the debt I owe you.”
Wu Dao Yao blew softly, sending the dandelion floating into the wind. Its delicate seeds scattered, a fleeting testament to his vow. But as the flower vanished into the distance, so too did the last remnants of strength from his body. His knees buckled, and he fell, collapsing at the edge of the cliff.
The Awakening
The chamber was oppressive, its air heavy with the anticipation of unleashed power. Dong Fangyi approached the largest coffin, his hands hovering over its surface. He began to chant, his voice a deep and resonant echo in the cavern. The incantation grew in intensity, and the runes sealing the coffin glowed brighter until, with a resounding crack, they shattered. Energy rippled outward like a wave, and one by one, the other coffins began to stir. The Underworld Spies were awakening.
The Underworld Spies, led by Dong Fangyi, had forged an unlikely alliance with the Gorge Spies, their shared goals uniting them in a fragile camaraderie. The Gorge Spies were masters of terrain manipulation and ambushes, an invaluable complement to the destructive chaos of Dong Fangyi’s group. Together, they clashed with Lou He’s spies and assassins—a force known for their precision and ruthlessness. Battles erupted in the shadowed forests and frozen plains, with neither side willing to yield.
Despite their initial successes, cracks began to form in the alliance. Lou He’s forces, though outnumbered, were disciplined and resourceful, slowly chipping away at the combined strength of their enemies. The Underworld Spies, accustomed to unopposed devastation, began to falter. Supplies dwindled, and trust between allies thinned. It was in these moments of weakness that betrayal began to take root.
Unknown to Dong Fangyi, Scarface—the indomitable force of the Underworld Spies—had been harboring doubts. The endless cycle of conflict weighed heavily on him, and promises whispered by Lou He’s agents of safety and power proved too tempting to resist. Scarface, once the symbol of loyalty and strength, revealed the location of Dong Fangyi and the remaining spies to Lou He.
The betrayal struck before the group could mount a proper defense. Lou He’s assassins descended with calculated precision, their blades and shadows cutting through the resistance like a storm. The Gorge Spies, outmatched and overwhelmed, scattered into the wilderness. Dong Fangyi’s Underworld Spies fought valiantly, but their once-formidable power was no match for the coordinated ambush.
As the dust settled, Dong Fangyi stood in the ruins of their encampment. The weight of realization bore down on him—Scarface, the pillar of his strategy, had turned against them. The betrayal had been in motion long before the battle began, leaving no room for escape or counteraction. For the first time in years, Dong Fangyi, the Sand Drizzle Master, found himself at the mercy of his enemies.
Lou He himself arrived with a retinue of elite guards, his presence cold and calculated. Without a word, his forces bound Dong Fangyi in enchanted chains that nullified his powers. Defeated but unbroken in spirit, Dong Fangyi met Lou He’s gaze with a defiance that even imprisonment could not dim. Lou He smirked faintly, as though savoring the long-sought victory.
“You underestimated the strength of loyalty,” Lou He remarked. “Even yours has its limits.”
Without further ceremony, Dong Fangyi was taken to the Hellfrost Prison, a fortress of ice and shadow that had held even the most dangerous beings. Its frozen walls seemed alive, pulsating with the cold malice of centuries-old enchantments. There, Dong Fangyi was stripped of his freedom, his staff taken, and his enchanted sands scattered into the winds.
Imprisoned in the Hellfrost, Dong Fangyi’s thoughts churned with anger, regret, and a burning desire for revenge. He knew the Underworld Spies were fractured, their strength diminished, and his reputation tarnished. Yet he also knew the shadows still lingered, waiting for their moment to rise again. While Lou He celebrated his triumph, Dong Fangyi silently plotted his return, his mind sharp as the desert winds that had once defined him.
The betrayal of Scarface had weakened the Underworld Spies, but it had not extinguished the fire of rebellion. From the icy confines of Hellfrost, Dong Fangyi resolved that this defeat would not mark the end of his legacy.
The Shadow Monarch
Princess Zama stood as a vision of regal dominance, her commanding presence a harbinger of both awe and dread. Her tall, statuesque frame was sheathed in flowing black silks that shimmered like liquid obsidian under even the faintest light. Red embroidery traced the hems of her robes, forming intricate, hypnotic patterns that resembled coiled serpents, hinting at the lethal grace she embodied. Draped over her shoulders, a raven-feathered cloak lent her the appearance of a dark goddess presiding over the shadows. She was not merely a ruler; she was a force to be reckoned with.
Her face, a paradox of beauty and severity, bore high cheekbones and piercing amber eyes that glowed faintly, exuding intelligence and ruthless intent. Glossy black hair, swept back into a high knot secured with jeweled pins shaped like talons, crowned her head like a midnight halo. A thin circlet of silver graced her brow, an unyielding reminder of her royal lineage and unchallenged authority over the Blackguard spies, her elite order of shadow operatives. Around her neck rested an obsidian pendant, its crescent-moon shape carved with ancient runes of secrecy and power, a testament to her mastery of the arcane. Black leather gloves covered her hands—tools as precise as the deadly plans she orchestrated. Even her voice, low and resonant, carried a quiet menace that silenced dissent and commanded unwavering attention.
The Blackguard spies were the manifestation of Zama’s ambition and ingenuity. Handpicked and meticulously trained by the princess herself, they were a league of assassins and spies who blurred the boundaries between espionage and lethal artistry. Each operative possessed unique talents honed to deadly perfection through relentless practice and mastery of the dark arts. Feared and revered across the realms, the Blackguard were the embodiment of stealth and precision—a living shadow cast by Zama’s indomitable will.
Operating under the Wei Emperor’s strict approval, known as the Black Seal, the Blackguard held the authority to execute missions of the highest secrecy and consequence. They were not just Zama’s personal army; they were the Wei Emperor’s agents of destruction, wielding power that transcended borders and kingdoms. Their most devastating achievement was the annihilation of the Yanbei territories, a campaign that solidified their reputation as an unstoppable force of chaos.
Amidst their reign of terror, the Blackguard spies joined forces with Dong Fangyi, an alliance forged in shadows and ambition. Together, they extended their influence across borders, threatening the stability of neighboring territories. However, their ambitions became their undoing after the capture of Ding Fangyi, one of Zama’s crucial allies. Fangyi’s fall triggered a series of events that would entangle the Blackguard in an elaborate trap set by the cunning Lou He, a rival whose strategic brilliance rivaled even Princess Zama’s.
Lou He, leveraging her network of informants and her unparalleled understanding of the Blackguard’s methods, ensnared the operatives and Zama herself. With precision, she captured them and condemned them to Hellfrost, a frigid and inescapable prison where even hope was left to die. The fall of the Blackguard marked a devastating blow to Princess Zama’s unchallenged dominance.
From the cold confines of Hellfrost, Lou He extended an olive branch—or so it seemed. She sent letters to both the Wei Emperor and Prince Zaru, proposing a possible settlement that could see the Blackguard freed. But the specter of the Blackguard’s past deeds loomed too large. Their reputation as instruments of terror had burned too many bridges, and no one dared advocate for their freedom. Silence was the only reply Lou He received.
Abandoned by their allies and dismissed even by their sovereigns, the Blackguard languished in Hellfrost, their once-indomitable spirits devastated under the crushing weight of their imprisonment. Lou He’s triumph over Zama’s forces was more than a tactical victory—it was a dismantling of an empire built on fear and precision.
Princess Zama and her Blackguard spies had been the embodiment of war’s darkest aspects—deception, precision, and ruthlessness. Yet, in their defeat, they became a cautionary tale of ambition overreaching its bounds. Empowered by the Wei Emperor’s Black Seal, they had wielded power that shaped the fate of kingdoms. But even shadows are not immune to betrayal and misfortune. Hellfrost became their tomb, their silence a testament to the ultimate price of unrelenting ambition. Whether Zama would rise again or remain a forgotten monarch in the frost remained a question etched in the annals of legend.
A Forgotten Past, A Hidden Identity
Yuwen Yue, now the Crown Prince of Qinghai, grapples with fragments of memories and instincts that hint at a past tied to his role as the heir of the Eyes of God. His sudden prominence in this new role stirs unease among both old foes and allies who begin to suspect his hidden identity. Meanwhile, the remnants of the Eyes of God, scattered and leaderless, see his return as a chance to reunite under his leadership. Yet, Yuwen Yue resists, torn between his duty as a prince and the legacy that continues to call him back.
There was an incident in the past during a royal ceremony when Yuwen Yue encountered a Mohist artifact—an encoded key linked to the Eyes of God. When he touched it, a surge of memories and instincts overwhelmed him, leaving him bewildered. Shortly after, an assassination attempt orchestrated by a rival kingdom forced him to defend himself. His innate combat skills emerged, stunning the Qinghai court and sparking rumors about the true origins of his abilities. The intrigue deepens when Yue Lui, a devoted member of the Eyes of God, infiltrates the Qinghai palace disguised as a commoner. He begs Yuwen Yue to reclaim his rightful place as their leader. As Yuwen Yue wrestles with his dual identity, a conspiracy surfaces that threatens to destabilize both Qinghai and the remnants of the Eyes of God, forcing him to confront the shadows of his past and the weight of his future.
As the Qinghai Crown Prince, Yuwen Yue uncovers a startling truth—his rise to power is not a mere twist of fate but the culmination of a grand conspiracy, possibly orchestrated by Yuwen Gao before his death. The Mohist visionary foresaw the impending collapse of the empire and devised a secret plan to position Yuwen Yue as a “hidden guardian,” a strategic force to maintain balance amidst growing instability. With external threats looming and his role veiled in secrecy, Yuwen Yue must navigate the treacherous path of uncovering the depths of this scheme while safeguarding Qinghai.
The revelation begins with the discovery of a sealed letter from Yuwen Gao. Within it lies the blueprint of his plan, revealing that Yuwen Yue’s placement in the Qinghai court was a deliberate move to counter the Wei Empire’s escalating instability. However, the precarious balance is threatened when a Qinghai minister, covertly allied with the Wei Empire, grows suspicious of Yuwen Yue’s ties to the Eyes of God and begins a campaign to discredit him.
The stakes rise further when Yuwen Yue discovers a hidden Mohist weapon, dubbed the Mechanical Throne, concealed beneath the Qinghai palace. Designed for use in desperate times, the weapon symbolizes both the potential for peace and the threat of devastation. In a high-stakes gamble, Yuwen Yue leverages his position to mediate tensions between Qinghai and Wei, preventing an all-out war. Behind the scenes, he orchestrates covert negotiations to secure peace, all while risking exposure with every move.
Yuwen Yue’s journey is one of delicate balance—walking the razor’s edge between chaos and order, between his duty as a prince and his legacy as a guardian of the empire’s stability. Each decision brings him closer to fulfilling the vision of Yuwen Gao, but at great personal cost.
The intrigue deepens when Yuwen Gao, acting on an imperial edict from the Emperor, reopens the investigation into the lost heir of the Eyes of God. This task, charged with uncovering facts and presenting evidence to the Emperor, takes on new urgency amidst the chaos of an all-out war in Qinghai. As political tensions rise, the Eyes of God’s master strategist, Yuwen Gao, meticulously gathers intelligence to substantiate a shocking theory: that Ra Yue is, in fact, Yuwen Yue.
Yuwen Yue, as the Qinghai Crown Prince, has often visited the Yuwen household and the Wei Empire in his royal guise. Yet, beneath this public persona, he secretly sends letters that offer subtle hints of his true identity. These clues, though slight, reach his grandfather, Yuwen Gao, who chooses to withhold the information. By keeping Yuwen Yue’s identity concealed, Yuwen Gao aims to prevent further complications and avert catastrophic wars that could destabilize the entire region.
As the pieces of the puzzle fall into place, Yuwen Gao exercises remarkable patience, trusting that Yuwen Yue will eventually uncover the full truth. The journey to this revelation becomes a test of Yuwen Yue’s ability to navigate his dual roles and bring order to the fractured empires. In the end, a cascade of surprises awaits both the Qinghai court and the rival powers, as Yuwen Yue’s actions promise to reshape the political landscape and restore balance across the realm.
Yuwen Yue embarks on a covert mission to rebuild the Eyes of God, all while maintaining his public role as the Crown Prince of Qinghai. Beneath the veneer of his royal duties, he begins the arduous task of restoring the once-great intelligence network, walking a fine line between his obligations to the court and the shadowy activities that define his true legacy. As tensions escalate between Qinghai and the Wei Empire, Yuwen Yue finds himself increasingly torn between two worlds.
The rebuilding effort begins with identifying loyal operatives scattered across the empire, including trusted allies like Yue Qi and Yue Lui, together with Meng Feng. Tasked with recruiting new members, they move in secrecy to lay the foundation of a reformed Eyes of God. Meanwhile, Yuwen Yue’s influence in Qinghai’s court grows, but his dual life becomes harder to conceal. His covert missions as the leader of the Eyes of God draw the attention of Qinghai’s intelligence agency, setting the stage for dangerous scrutiny. Today, they are stationed in the Freedom Community, masking their identities as remnants of the Eyes of God of the Yuwen Household from the Wei Empire.
The stakes rise when a rival spy network emerges, targeting both Qinghai and the remnants of the Eyes of God. Led by a brilliant tactician with a personal vendetta against Yuwen Yue, this adversary threatens to dismantle everything he has worked to rebuild. The rival’s relentless pursuit forces Yuwen Yue to confront not only external dangers but also his own divided loyalties.
Ultimately, Yuwen Yue faces a harrowing choice: fully embrace his role as Qinghai’s ruler, abandoning his secret mission, or revive the Eyes of God entirely, risking war with the Wei Empire in the process. As the Crown Prince and the Eyes of God’s leader, his decisions will shape the future of both Qinghai and the fractured empire, but at a cost he cannot yet foresee.
The Skyshadow Elite Spies of the Liang Empire
The Skyshadow Elite Spies are Xiao Yu’s most trusted operatives, a covert network of assassins, infiltrators, and manipulators whose expertise in espionage is unmatched. Chosen for their extraordinary skills, each operative is a master of a specific discipline, whether combat, intelligence gathering, or sabotage. Their allegiance to Xiao Yu stems from a potent combination of fear, admiration, and a shared vision for dominance. Operating under a shroud of secrecy, the Skyshadow Elite are invisible until their presence is revealed by the precise and deadly execution of their missions.
At the heart of their operations lies the Obsidian Nest, a hidden stronghold buried deep within the dense forests of Liang. This fortress, accessible only through concealed paths and protected by elaborate traps, serves as both a sanctuary and a training ground. Inside, members of the Skyshadow hone their skills, perfecting techniques in combat, disguise, and sabotage. The Nest’s labyrinthine corridors lead to the Hawk’s Roost, a central chamber where Xiao Yu gathers her operatives to plan their moves. Every inch of the base reflects the network’s discipline and purpose, with walls lined with weapons, espionage tools, and ancient scrolls containing the wisdom of their craft.
Among the Skyshadow Elite are a select few whose reputations stand above the rest. Tao Ye, known as the Hawk’s Whisper, is Xiao Yu’s most trusted field commander. Her tall, lean frame and piercing dark eyes exude calm authority. A master tactician, Tao Ye combines stealth, deception, and strategic brilliance to lead missions with unerring precision. Her twin curved daggers, which she wields with unmatched speed, make her a silent and deadly force on the battlefield. Shadow Ember, the Silent Blaze, brings fire and chaos to her enemies. Her fiery orange hair and sharp, fox-like eyes are as striking as the flames she commands. Using incendiary devices and alchemical powders, she specializes in ambush tactics that disorient and destroy her foes, her agility ensuring she always remains one step ahead.
Iron Talon, the Unyielding Shadow, is the network’s impenetrable shield. Clad in reinforced leather armor, his immense size and strength make him a living fortress. Armed with a massive glaive, Iron Talon delivers devastating attacks while serving as a protective barrier for his allies. Whispering Feather, the Phantom of Liang, is the embodiment of silence and grace. Draped in shimmering white and silver robes, she moves like a ghost, unseen and unheard, striking with feather-shaped throwing knives. Her agility allows her to traverse rooftops and scale walls with ease, making her an unparalleled master of aerial assassinations. Blade Serpent, the Shadow Coiler, is a hypnotic figure whose snake-like movements and poisoned weapons make him a terror on the battlefield. His unpredictable tactics and venomous strikes ensure his enemies never see their demise coming.
The Skyshadow network’s strength lies in its unity and precision, but it is not without its scars. The loss of Yin Xin, their former master of fan warfare, was a devastating blow. Yin Xin, known for his delicate yet deadly combat style, fell to Yuwen Yue, a rival whose strategic prowess outmatched even the finest techniques of the Skyshadow. This loss fueled Xiao Yu’s resolve, driving her to protect her remaining operatives and to seek vengeance against Yuwen Yue at any cost.
Despite their losses, the Skyshadow Elite remain a force to be reckoned with. Under Xiao Yu’s leadership, they are the unseen architects of power and chaos, manipulating events from the shadows. Their influence stretches far beyond the forests of Liang, inspiring both fear and awe. Each operative is a testament to Xiao Yu’s cunning and ambition, their collective presence a shadow that looms over the land, promising swift and silent retribution to those who stand in their way.
Following Dong Fangyi’s guidance, Xiao Yu decided to forge an alliance with Queen Zhueje after her relentless efforts to connect with Yuwen Yue proved fruitless. Xiao Yu’s ultimate goal was to secure the survival of the King of Yanbei, a crucial figure whose reign now hung in the balance. The urgency of her mission became evident as she recognized the escalating threat posed by Yuan Yang. His unbridled ambitions not only jeopardized Yanbei’s sovereignty but also threatened to amplify Wei’s military dominance, further destabilizing the region.
Xiao Yu’s decision to ally with Queen Zhueje was both a strategic maneuver and a delicate gamble. She understood that this alliance would require navigating the precarious terrain of mutual distrust and divergent agendas. Yet, she also saw the potential for shared strength in facing a common adversary. Tying her fate to Zhueje’s was a calculated risk, driven by the pressing need to counteract Yuan Yang’s expanding influence and to protect Yanbei from falling into ruin. In this fragile partnership, Xiao Yu balanced her ambitions with careful diplomacy, ever mindful that the lines between ally and adversary could shift at any moment.
Zhan Ziyu and the Afterlife Assassins Guild
Zhan Ziyu stood at the pinnacle of the Celestial Garrison, his tall, lean figure draped in robes that shimmered with celestial patterns. Each thread of his garment depicted constellations, stars, and flowing clouds—an intricate tapestry symbolizing the balance and eternity central to Daoist philosophy. His silver-streaked hair cascaded down his back, framing a face of sharp, angular features that seemed carved from stone. Piercing silver eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light, conveyed a deep reservoir of knowledge and unyielding power. Around his neck hung a crescent moon-shaped jade amulet, its faint glow rumored to link him directly to celestial realms. His voice, measured and resonant, carried the weight of centuries of wisdom—a sound that inspired awe and dread in equal measure.
Within the Celestial Garrison, Zhan Ziyu governed the Afterlife Assassins Guild, a clandestine organization that fused mystical Daoist principles with lethal precision. To outsiders, the network was a ghost story, a whisper of shadows that moved unseen and struck without warning. In truth, it was an intricate web of assassins and spies, trained not only in combat but in spiritual mastery. Their ultimate allegiance lay with Zhan Ziyu, whose enigmatic vision of balance and chaos guided their every move. These operatives, bound by oaths of loyalty, operated in complete secrecy. To join their ranks was to become part of a force that blurred the boundaries between the natural and the supernatural, the living and the dead.
In the center of the garrison’s circular hall, carved from white stone, Zhan Ziyu convened his inner circle. The ceiling, painted with glowing constellations, bathed the room in faint light. A jade statue of a meditating sage dominated the chamber, symbolizing the harmony of life and death. Kneeling before Zhan Ziyu were his elite operatives, each an embodiment of his teachings and vision. He addressed them with solemnity, his deep voice reverberating through the chamber.
“The Afterlife Assassins Guild is more than a guild of assassins—it is a manifestation of balance. We are the agents of inevitability, the hand that corrects the imbalance of chaos and order. Tonight, the stars align in our favor. Move like shadows, strike like lightning, and leave no trace of our existence.”
The gathered spies bowed deeply, their loyalty to their master absolute. Among them were six key figures whose skills and reputations defined the network’s lethal efficiency.
Meng Feng: The Defector
Not all within the Afterlife Assassins Guild shared this unwavering loyalty. Meng Feng, a former operative, once moved like a shadow among Zhan Ziyu’s assassins. She had been assigned a critical mission: to eliminate Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue, two pivotal figures in the growing Freedom Community. Her failure marked her downfall. Captured during the mission, Meng Feng faced Zhan Ziyu’s wrath, enduring punishment for her inability to fulfill her duties. Stripped of her rank and exiled, she was left to grapple with the devastating effects of her addiction to the Dengxian Pill, the network’s most dangerous alchemical creation.
Meng Feng’s path led her to the Freedom Community, an underground movement championed by White Robinhood, formerly the heir to the Eyes of God and now a rebel leader opposing tyranny. Yuwen Yue’s influence over the movement turned it into a haven for those seeking redemption or freedom from oppressive forces like the Afterlife Assassins Guild. Recognizing her potential, White Robinhood welcomed Meng Feng into their ranks, even as her body and mind bore the scars of her time under Zhan Ziyu.
The Ascension Pill
The Dengxian Pill, also known as the Ascension Pill, was Zhan Ziyu’s alchemical masterpiece. It had become both a weapon and a curse. Small, jet-black, and shimmering with veins of silver, it granted its users temporary ascension, sharpening their physical and mental abilities to supernatural levels. However, its addictive nature and devastating side effects—mental decay, physical corruption, and eventual madness—ensnared its users, binding them to Zhan Ziyu’s control. Meng Feng, once one of his most capable operatives, had fallen victim to the pill’s destructive grip.
Now working under the Freedom Community, Meng Feng’s life was on the brink of collapse. Her addiction to the Dengxian Pill ravaged her body, blackened her veins, and left her moments from death. In a desperate bid to save her, Yue Qi, one of Yuwen Yue’s most trusted allies, captured Meng Feng and brought her to Yuwen Yue. Witnessing her deteriorating state, Yuwen Yue made a bold decision: to negotiate directly with Zhan Ziyu.
Yuwen Yue’s journey to the Celestial Garrison was fraught with risk. The halls of Zhan Ziyu’s domain were no place for the uninvited, and Yue’s mission demanded both courage and strategy. Facing the Celestial Dao Master, Yuwen Yue offered an extraordinary exchange: a repository of treasures from the Wei Empire, a civilization long shrouded in mystery and legend, in return for the antidote to the Dengxian Pill. These repositories, small in size but immense in value, contained fragments of celestial knowledge, artifacts of ancient alchemy, and resources that even Zhan Ziyu could not ignore.
Zhan Ziyu, intrigued by the offer, agreed. He provided the antidote, a rare and closely guarded elixir capable of reversing the pill’s effects. However, his warning was clear: the antidote would save Meng Feng’s life but could not undo the irreversible damage already done to her body and soul. For Yuwen Yue, it was a necessary gamble.
Meng Feng’s recovery was slow and agonizing, but with the antidote’s help, she overcame the grip of the Dengxian Pill. Her physical strength returned in fragments, but her mind remained haunted by memories of her time under Zhan Ziyu. Determined to atone for her past, she dedicated herself to the Freedom Community’s cause. Under White Robinhood’s guidance, Meng Feng found a sense of purpose, working to dismantle the oppressive systems she once served.
For Yuwen Yue, the exchange with Zhan Ziyu underscored the lengths to which he was willing to go to protect his allies and advance the Freedom Community’s mission. The repositories of the Moon Kingdom were a steep price, but Yuwen Yue understood that Meng Feng’s survival symbolized more than a single life—it was a blow to Zhan Ziyu’s absolute control and a testament to the resilience of those who sought to break free from tyranny.
Under Zhan Ziyu’s leadership, the Afterlife Assassins Guild continued to strike fear into the hearts of its enemies, moving with precision and lethality. Yet, cracks began to appear in his empire. Meng Feng’s defection and survival symbolized the growing resistance against his shadowy rule. The Freedom Community, led by White Robinhood and Yuwen Yue, became a beacon of hope for those seeking redemption and freedom from the celestial master’s grip. As the stars aligned for Zhan Ziyu’s plans, they also aligned for those determined to bring his reign to an end. The battle for balance had only just begun.
Zhan Ziyu’s network, once unparalleled in its reach and precision, began to feel the strain of its obsession with Xiao Yu, the Skyshadow Belt Sword Master. Her movements, always under the scrutiny of his assassins and spies, led them into unfamiliar territory that lay beyond their experience. Delving deeper into this new domain, Zhan Ziyu’s operatives discovered not just Xiao Yu’s resilience but the vast influence she wielded. Her alliance with Dong Fangyi, the cunning adviser of Yanbei, revealed the intricate web of support she had built across the region.
Realizing that Xiao Yu’s connections extended into the very heart of Yanbei’s resistance, Zhan Ziyu doubled his efforts. His goal became clear: to assassinate the Queen of Yanbei. Yet this singular focus left his network exposed, and their resources became stretched thin as they navigated a territory rife with dangers they did not fully understand.
Zhan Ziyu’s frustrations deepened with the arrival of troubling reports. His spies informed him that the King of Yanbei had been captured by Qinghai’s Crown Prince Ra Yue, a mysterious figure with a growing reputation. These reports carried whispers that Ra Yue was none other than Yuwen Yue, the esteemed Fourth Young Master of the Eyes of God Yuwen Household—a name that stirred memories of an old rival. Simultaneously, there were rumors that Ra Yue was the infamous White Robinhood, the leader of the Black Sun Pirates, who governed the waterways of Shangrila, Pengcheng’s harbors in Liang, and Wei’s black markets.
This confluence of identities unsettled Zhan Ziyu. The Black Sun Pirate, whose maritime raids had long disrupted his trade routes, was already a thorn in his side. If Ra Yue and White Robinhood were indeed the same person, it would mean that a single adversary was undermining not only his network’s political aspirations but also its financial foundation.
Seated in his sanctum beneath the celestial glow of the garrison’s constellation-marked ceiling, Zhan Ziyu called a meeting with his inner circle. Around him stood his most trusted operatives, their faces masked, awaiting his command.
“Xiao Yu has eluded us at every turn, but her growing influence with Yanbei’s adviser, Dong Fangyi, has exposed us. This Queen of Yanbei is no longer just a target—she is a threat to the balance we seek to preserve,” said Zhan Ziyu.
The Mirage Ghost, listening, responded: “Master, the Queen’s connections run deep, but her vulnerabilities are clearer now. If we can eliminate her, Dong Fangyi’s influence in Yanbei will collapse. Shall I take the mission myself?”
Zhan Ziyu replied: “No. Her movements are no longer predictable, and her allies are formidable. We must approach this with precision, not haste. What of the King of Yanbei? Ra Yue’s capture of him presents an opportunity—or a complication.”
Another spy entered—Azure Specter—who said: “Reports from Qinghai suggest Ra Yue’s forces are impenetrable. If the rumors are true, and he is Yuwen Yue, his ties to the Eyes of God make him a far greater adversary. And if he is also White Robinhood…” (hesitates) “…then he is behind the piracy of the Black Sun, which has crippled our trade routes.”
Silent Tempest, the Afterlife camp supervisor, interjected: “Master, we cannot afford to split our resources further. The Black Sun Pirate’s raids are bleeding us dry. If Ra Yue and White Robinhood are the same man, we must prioritize uncovering his identity and eliminating him.”
“I know who Ra Yue might be,” Zhan Ziyu said, pausing. His tone was cold and deliberate. “Yuwen Yue has always been a thorn in the side of inevitability. If he is indeed the White Robinhood, he has hidden his intentions well. But whether he is a Crown Prince, a pirate, or a spy, one thing is clear—he is an enemy of our cause.”
Zhan Ziyu had always been aware of Yuwen Yue, but now, his focus was somewhat blank when it came to Ra Yue, the Crown Prince of Qinghai.
As Zhan Ziyu’s inner circle debated their next steps, Xiao Yu and her allies continued to outmaneuver him. Her connection to Dong Fangyi was not merely political; it was strategic. Through Yanbei’s adviser, Xiao Yu gained access to critical resources and intelligence networks that made her movements increasingly difficult to track. Moreover, Yanbei’s growing resistance became a beacon for those seeking to undermine Zhan Ziyu’s hire-for-kill assassins’ network.
In the shadows of Yanbei’s court, Xiao Yu’s actions sent ripples through Zhan Ziyu’s domain. Dong Fangyi’s influence reached into territories that Zhan Ziyu’s network had never dared to spy on before. The deeper they delved into this new frontier, the more vulnerable they became, exposing weaknesses that Xiao Yu and her allies were quick to exploit.
Black Sun Pirate’s hidden hand
Meanwhile, Zhan Ziyu’s frustrations with the Black Sun Pirates grew. The pirates’ raids on his trade routes were no longer just a financial nuisance—they had become an existential threat to the network’s funding. Reports from his spies described coordinated attacks that disrupted shipments of rare alchemical ingredients and weapons, forcing him to delay key missions. The harbors of Shangrila, Pengcheng, and Wei’s black markets were slipping from his control, their influence redirected by the pirates’ iron grip.
Though Zhan Ziyu’s operatives worked tirelessly to uncover the Black Sun Pirates’ identity, their efforts yielded little more than speculation. If Ra Yue, the Crown Prince of Qinghai, truly controlled the Black Sun Pirates, Zhan Ziyu would be facing an adversary who wielded not only political power but also unrivaled dominance over the region’s waterways.
A Dangerous Gamble
Unable to pull back, Zhan Ziyu resolved to continue his efforts to spy on Xiao Yu, unravel the Queen of Yanbei’s alliances, and uncover the truth behind Ra Yue’s identity. The stakes had never been higher. Every report he received deepened the mystery, and each decision he made pushed his network closer to the brink.
In the dim glow of the celestial constellations, Zhan Ziyu leaned back in his throne, his piercing silver eyes narrowing as he spoke to himself.
“The Queen of Yanbei. Ra Yue. White Robinhood. Black Sun Pirate. They think themselves untouchable, but even the stars can be moved. The hand of inevitability will find them all—one by one,” Zhan Ziyu muttered.
The weight of his words hung heavy in the chamber. His operatives exchanged uneasy glances, their master’s obsession growing clearer with each passing day. Outside the walls of the garrison, the world seemed to turn against them, but Zhan Ziyu would not yield. For him, failure was never an option.
The Hidden Blade of Chu Qiao
The conflict in Qinghai pulled Zhan Ziyu and his Afterlife Assassins Guild deeper into a web of alliances, betrayals, and mysteries that even his vast intelligence network struggled to untangle. As his resources stretched thin and his adversaries multiplied, Zhan Ziyu sought a surprising ally: Chu Qiao, the woman his network had tried—and failed—to eliminate on countless occasions. Spy reports revealed that she was now residing in the Moon Kingdom, ruling over the Jianghu spies, a powerful and elusive underworld network.
Zhan Ziyu’s spies confirmed the truth of the reports. Chu Qiao, once a fugitive, had become a force to be reckoned with. The revelation stirred memories Zhan Ziyu had buried deep—memories of Lou He, the infamous leader of the most powerful underworld spies, and the cause of Zhan Ziyu’s once-paralyzed legs. Chu Qiao, as it turned out, was Mimi Gongzhu, the lost daughter of Lou He, whose attempted capture by Zhan Ziyu had led to his crippling injury.
Sitting in his alchemical laboratory, Zhan Ziyu read through the reports with a wry smile. His sharp mind pieced together the truth, and he shook his head in amusement.
Zhan Ziyu shook his head and said, “Fate has a cruel sense of humor. The woman who rendered me powerless… the one I sought to destroy… is the daughter of Lou He. And now, she holds the keys to the Jianghu spies. How ironic that I must seek her alliance.”
Masters of Disguise
The revelation of Chu Qiao’s true identity was not the only secret Zhan Ziyu had uncovered. As the spies laid the reports before him, they exchanged astonished glances. The leader of the Afterlife Assassins Guild, long thought to be paralyzed, rose to his feet.
Gasps filled the room as Zhan Ziyu stood tall, his movement fluid and commanding. The man who had ruled from a seated position for years was not crippled at all. The deception had been perfect—a calculated ruse to disarm his enemies and protect his vulnerabilities while he worked in secret.
Zhan Ziyu had not been idle during his years of apparent paralysis. In the depths of his alchemical laboratory, he had developed a cure for the blocked blood flow inflicted by Chu Qiao during their last encounter. The attack, known as the Rain of Ice Needles, had been swift and devastating. Each needle carried a frosty sting that paralyzed Zhan Ziyu’s legs, leaving him and his assassins severely wounded. He remembered the shock of her unexpected mastery over ice-based kungfu, a power unlike anything he had ever encountered.
In the years since, Zhan Ziyu had studied the effects of the icy assault, using his alchemical expertise to reverse the damage. His recovery was a testament to his ingenuity and determination, and now, standing before his operatives, he revealed the full extent of his deception.
Zhan Ziyu warned all of his Afterlife camp Supervisors: “Do not look so astonished. Disguise is a weapon, one as sharp as any blade. My enemies believed me broken, and I allowed it. But now, we face a new challenge. Chu Qiao—Lou He’s daughter, the lost Mimi Gongzhu—rules a domain that we cannot ignore. To win this war, we must tread carefully.”
Seeking an alliance with Chu Qiao was no small task. Zhan Ziyu’s history with her was stained with blood and betrayal. His failed attempts to kill both her and her mother had forged an enmity that few could mend. Yet Zhan Ziyu was a master strategist, and he understood the value of leveraging even the most improbable connections.
Through his network of spies, Zhan Ziyu sent a carefully worded missive to Chu Qiao in the Moon Kingdom. In it, he acknowledged their shared history, his respect for her rise to power, and the inevitability of their paths crossing again. He proposed an exchange of intelligence and resources, citing the growing threat of Ra Yue, the Crown Prince of Qinghai, and the mysterious Black Sun Pirate, whose activities disrupted not only Zhan Ziyu’s network but also the Jianghu’s influence over Shangrila and beyond.
In the Moon Kingdom, Chu Qiao received Zhan Ziyu’s message with skepticism. Seated in her intricately designed chamber, surrounded by scrolls and maps detailing her growing dominion over the Jianghu spies, she read his words with a mixture of amusement and caution.
“The great Zhan Ziyu, master of the Afterlife Assassins Guild, seeks my alliance. How curious that the man who once sought my death now finds himself at my door.”
Zao Baocung, the Chu Jing Healer and older Jianghu operative who had served Lou He, stepped forward.
“Mimi Gongzhu, this could be a trap. Zhan Ziyu is not a man to be trusted. His history with your mother is proof enough of his treachery.”
Chu Qiao smiled faintly, her sharp eyes scanning the message once more.
“True, but he is also desperate. Desperate men make mistakes, and desperate alliances reveal opportunities. If Zhan Ziyu seeks me out, it means he has no better option. That, in itself, is power.”
As Chu Qiao contemplated her next move, Zhan Ziyu couldn’t help but recall their last encounter. The Rain of Ice Needles had been unlike anything he had faced before. In the chaos of that battle, her kungfu had turned the tide, inflicting devastating injuries on him and his assassins. Her mastery of the icy technique had left a lasting impression—not only on his body but also on his mind.
Now, as he prepared to face her once again, Zhan Ziyu’s thoughts were tempered by both respect and caution. The Rain of Ice Needles had been a painful lesson, but it had also driven him to new heights of mastery. If Chu Qiao could not be defeated, she must be brought into his fold—by persuasion, manipulation, or force.
Replaying the Rain of Ice Needles
Zhan Ziyu’s Afterlife Assassins Guild had long cast its shadow over Wei, and now its spies infiltrated the Blackguards in pursuit of critical intelligence. Their covert surveillance led them to Wei’s Imperial Garrison, where a shocking report awaited: Lou He, the legendary leader of the underworld spies, had been captured by The Eyes of God and turned over to the Wei Emperor. The court declared her a rebel to the throne and sentenced her to execution. Zhan Ziyu’s spies, ever-vigilant, reported this grim news back to him, further entangling his network in the brewing conflicts of Wei.
In the Imperial Garrison’s damp, greasy torture chamber, Lou He hung suspended in the air, her body bound by black-seal shackles inscribed with dark spells. The fetters drained her chi, rendering her powers useless. Her pulse dripped blood into a shallow pool below, the steady loss of blood weakening her further. For the underworld spies, spilling their own blood was a forbidden act—a rule now cruelly used against her. Lou He was defenseless, her once-indomitable strength reduced to a faint glimmer.
At dawn, the imperial decree was issued: Lou He was to be executed. Declared a traitor and a rebel, her capture had prompted unprecedented security measures. The bounty on her head, unmatched in value, had drawn the attention of every faction in the realm. The Wei garrison swelled with guards, their watchful eyes ensuring there was no escape.
A Daughter’s Resolve
The Jing family, allies of Lou He and protectors of her daughter, quickly dispatched news of her impending execution to Chu Qiao, who was living in secret under their care. For Chu Qiao, this was not just a call to action—it was a personal reckoning. Donning a black ninja outfit, her face obscured by a mask, Chu Qiao resolved to rescue her mother. Her plan was direct and lethal: under the cover of night, she would infiltrate the heavily guarded Wei garrison, eliminate anyone who stood in her way, and free Lou He.
Her infiltration was swift and silent. Imperial guards fell one by one to her blade, their necks snapped before they could raise the alarm. She slipped into the torture chamber, calling out softly:
“Mother?”
Her voice echoed in the darkness, only to be answered by a chilling sight. Suspended in the air, bound by chains to opposite walls, was Xia Chong, dressed in a white gown and unmistakably a decoy. Before Chu Qiao could react, Xia Chong spat a deadly needle toward her, hissing:
“Go find her in hell!”
Xia Chong’s voice carried the venom of possession, and her movements were unnervingly precise. Realizing the trap, Chu Qiao retreated, slipping out of the garrison yard and into the open air.
The Faceless Leader
Just as Chu Qiao prepared to leave, a figure emerged from the shadows. Dressed in a black hood, the faceless leader stood with a squad of unnamed spies at his command. The ground beneath them was littered with the bodies of imperial guards who had already fallen to this new adversary. Undeterred, Chu Qiao drew her sword and charged, cutting through the squad with precision. The faceless leader moved with equal speed, countering her every attack.
During their fierce exchange, the leader revealed his right hand, and Chu Qiao’s sharp eyes caught sight of the jade ring on his thumb—a distinct mark of Zhan Ziyu, the Daoist Grand Master of the Afterlife Assassins Guild. His voice, cold and mocking, broke the tense silence.
“You are the daughter of Lou He.”
Panting but resolute, Chu Qiao demanded, “What did you do to my mother?”
Zhan Ziyu smirked, his words sharp as daggers: “Want to see your mother? Pity, she is in hell now.”
Fury ignited within Chu Qiao as she shouted back, “You killed her!”
Zhan Ziyu’s reply was cold and calculated: “So incredible a spy and warrior she was. She sought to release the slaves and stop the war—a dream as foolish as it was futile. If I say she was killed by you, would anyone question it?”
Enraged, Chu Qiao screamed, “Then I will kill you today!”
Zhan Ziyu also shouted, “Today, you won’t get away with it.”
Permanent Disability
Under the pale moonlight and misty ground, the battle escalated. Zhan Ziyu flew into the air, commanding the elements with his inner chi. Chu Qiao, undeterred, closed her eyes and summoned the winds around her. Drawing from the depths of her icy kungfu powers, she called forth the Rain of Ice Needles. Moisture from the ground, blood droplets, and the air condensed into sharp, crystalline projectiles.
The ice needles struck from all directions, pursuing Zhan Ziyu and his assassins. Too late to evade, Zhan Ziyu felt the frosty bite pierce his legs and toes, grounding him. The other assassins suffered similar wounds, their movements faltering under the relentless assault.
Before Chu Qiao could finish her attack, Viper, a dark-cloaked woman, appeared. With a whip in hand, Viper caught Chu Qiao by the waist and dragged her from the battlefield. Zhan Ziyu, wounded and enraged, rallied all of the Afterlife camp assassins, shouting: “Capture Chu Qiao!”
The assassins attempted pursuit, but Viper’s intervention saved Chu Qiao from unleashing more devastating powers that could have consumed them all.
As the Wei Imperial guards rallied, Zhan Ziyu’s assassins retreated, carrying their injured leader to safety. Chu Qiao, rescued by Viper, learned the painful truth: her mother, Lou He, was nowhere to be found. Even her body was unrecovered. Assuming Lou He was dead, Chu Qiao vowed to avenge her mother’s death.
In the days that followed, Chu Qiao uncovered that Zhan Ziyu was indeed the faceless leader she had fought. His jade ring and distinctive chi confirmed his identity. However, another name surfaced in her investigation: Dong Fangyi, the Sand Drizzle Master, who might have also played a role in her mother’s fate. The truth remained elusive.
With Lou He gone, the underworld spies dispersed, some retreating into anonymity. Yet Chu Qiao, alongside Viper, began to gather the remnants, forming a new alliance of spies dedicated to justice and freedom. Together, they became the heirs of the Wind and Cloud Decree, carrying forward Lou He’s legacy.
As Chu Qiao forged ahead, other spies sought their own paths. Zao Baocung, a renowned Chu Jing healer in the Moon Kingdom, became a merchant of ancient relics. Lan Shuyi, once tied to the Wei palace and the Yuwen household, escaped and joined the secret spy alliance of Ra Zheng. Zhong Yu, adopting the guise of Yanbei’s General, joined the ranks of Yan Xun, using her Chiyu Jian martial arts to aid the rebellion. Wu Dao Yao, a former military leader, became the CEO of Datong Way, a covert trade network in Yanbei.
Despite their scattered paths, a shared purpose united them: to dismantle the oppressive forces of Wei and uncover the truth behind Lou He’s disappearance. For Chu Qiao, the journey had only begun. Her icy kungfu powers and indomitable spirit would light the way as she pursued vengeance and justice, with Zhan Ziyu always in her sights.
Zhan Ziyu was a bit dizzy after this trance of memories flashed back. As the conflict in Qinghai deepened and alliances shifted, Zhan Ziyu’s bid for power faced its greatest test. The possibility of an alliance with Chu Qiao dangled like a blade above his head—both a promise of salvation and a potential threat to his carefully constructed empire. For Chu Qiao, the decision to engage with Zhan Ziyu carried equal weight. Their history was soaked in betrayal, but the future of the Jianghu spies—and the Moon Kingdom itself—might depend on navigating the razor’s edge of this dangerous partnership.
The stars over the Celestial Garrison and the Moon Kingdom seemed to align, their paths converging toward an inevitable clash of will, deception, and power.
The Invisible Spies of Qinghai
In the shadowed recesses of Qinghai, where whispers of conspiracy and ambition intertwine, a clandestine force holds dominion. The Invisible Spies, a network of unparalleled operatives, pledge their unwavering loyalty to Ra Zheng—a prince whose cunning rivals the greatest strategic minds in history. Led by the enigmatic Lan Shuyi and the fearsome Xu Lan, this group is an unstoppable amalgamation of assassins, infiltrators, and tacticians. Their name inspires fear; their skills are whispered in the dead of night: they vanish without a trace, infiltrate the most secure bastions, and carry out assassinations that defy belief. Yet, they are not simply killers. The Invisible Spies are masters of manipulation, subterfuge, and psychological warfare, shaping the unseen battles that decide the fate of empires.
At the heart of the Invisible Spies stands Lan Shuyi, known as the Phantom Strategist. A slender, almost ethereal figure, she moves with an elegance that belies her lethal nature. Her long silver hair, tied into a sleek braid, glistens in the moonlight, while her sharp, dark eyes pierce the very soul of those who dare cross her. Clad in a fitted black bodysuit interwoven with shimmering threads, she disappears seamlessly into the dim light, leaving only shadows in her wake. Lan Shuyi’s mastery over illusion makes her one of the most formidable operatives in Qinghai. Using mirrors and refractive devices, she creates lifelike images that baffle enemies and give her team the upper hand. Her ability to mimic voices and mannerisms allows her to assume the guise of anyone, making her a ghost among the living. But it is her labyrinthine mind—filled with contingencies and flawless strategies—that makes her indispensable. Her signature move, the Veil of Mirrors, is a dazzling spectacle of deception. Enemies are surrounded by decoys of her and her allies, leaving them too disoriented to defend against the real attack.
Beside Lan Shuyi stands Xu Lan, a towering figure whose mere presence sends shivers through the bravest of men. His shaven head glints faintly in the dim light, but his face is obscured by a black mask, revealing only piercing amber eyes that seem to glow in the dark. Clad in lightweight black alloy armor that absorbs all light, he becomes one with the shadows—a silent predator in the night. Xu Lan’s dual blades are as deadly as they are swift, coated in a toxin that paralyzes his enemies instantly. His mastery of camouflage allows him to blend seamlessly into any environment, rendering him invisible even at close range. He is the embodiment of fear itself, his strikes swift, silent, and devastating. Xu Lan’s infamous Phantom Slash leaves entire groups incapacitated before they even register his presence—a testament to his unparalleled speed and precision.
The Invisible Spies are far more than a two-person operation. Their ranks are filled with individuals whose talents are as extraordinary as their leaders. Shadow Fang, a wiry tracker clad in dark green robes that meld with natural surroundings, has predatory eyes that miss no detail, allowing him to track even the faintest trails left by fleeing enemies. His collapsible bow fires silent, poisoned arrows with deadly precision, ensuring his targets don’t realize they’ve been struck until it’s too late. Whisper Blade, a figure of eerie calm, moves like death incarnate. Her silent, deliberate steps and unmatched hand-to-hand combat skills render her enemies powerless before they can react. With an aura that dampens sound and light, she operates in a cocoon of silence. Her Silent Bloom technique—precise, targeted strikes—leaves her foes senseless before she delivers the final blow. Smoke Weaver, the team’s shadow chemist, is an artist of toxins and smoke. Her flowing robes billow unnaturally, and her mask filters the lethal concoctions she creates. She reshapes the battlefield with her Phantom Fog, a dense cloud that blinds, chokes, and disorients enemies while concealing her allies’ movements. Her ability to appear and vanish within the mist adds an element of chaos to any confrontation. Obsidian Wraith, the group’s enforcer, is a hulking figure whose dark, rippling armor absorbs energy from attacks, rendering him nearly invulnerable. His raw strength shatters barriers and foes alike, while his Void Hammer—a shockwave-inducing punch—can incapacitate entire groups in one blow. Finally, there is Night Petal, delicate in appearance but deadly in skill. Clad in robes adorned with faintly glowing floral patterns, she wields razor-sharp fans coated in toxins, scattering them across battlefields in her Venomous Petal attack. Her charm and wit make her as effective a manipulator as she is an assassin.
The Invisible Spies operate from a fortress as enigmatic as their name: the Obsidian Cloak. Hidden within the volcanic caves of Qinghai, the fortress is an architectural marvel, blending natural formations with ingenious human engineering. Its dark tunnels are laced with deadly traps, and faintly glowing sigils illuminate chambers cloaked in perpetual shadow. Key locations within the Obsidian Cloak include the Veil Room, a chamber where illusions and disguises are perfected; the Armory, stocked with tools of deception like smoke bombs and poisoned vials; and the Mirror Vault, a room lined with enchanted mirrors used for training and crafting the illusions that make Lan Shuyi legendary.
The Invisible Spies operate under an ironclad philosophy: control the unseen, and you control everything. Their anonymity is absolute, with even their identities hidden from one another. They excel in infiltration, psychological warfare, and silent eliminations, leaving no witnesses or evidence of their existence. Enemies are manipulated into self-destruction, fortresses breached without a sound, and battles won before they begin. To the world, they are myths, stories whispered in fear. To Ra Zheng, they are the ultimate weapon—a shadowy force that bends reality to his will. Their loyalty reflects his ability to inspire and command, making even the most impenetrable strongholds vulnerable. The Invisible Spies embody Qinghai’s darkest truths: in the unseen, there is power; in the shadows, there is control.
Qinghai’s Gangster-Style Spy Network
The Ra Zhun spy and assassin network, notorious for its brutality and stealth, operates like a shadowy underworld cartel, with key leaders and operatives each wielding unique talents. At the helm is The Raven, a master strategist whose cunning orchestrates every mission. His right-hand enforcer, Khan Duskfang, commands fear with his ruthless methods, while Krakorva, “The Whisperer,” manages intelligence operations with eerie precision. The assassination branch is led by Shade, a lethal operative who thrives in silence and rage, and Lui Yan Fang, “The Black Lotus,” an infiltrator famed for her expertise in poisons and subterfuge.
Their elite operatives include The Veil, “The Sharp Blade,” and Sorik Fang, “The Night Claw,” both legendary for their precision strikes. The Mistshadow specializes in elusive tactics, while Daren Lu, “The Ghostband,” and Daren Yang, “The Serpent’s Fang,” are masters of ambushes and lethal sabotage. Supporting them are the network’s spies and informants, such as Ash, “The Lurker,” and Draxis, “The False Mask,” experts at infiltration and deception. Additional agents like Arkven, “The Vanisher,” and Nocturnal, “Twilight Stalker,” ensure that their enemies never see them coming.
The underworld ties of the Ra Zhun are bolstered by gangster-style operatives such as Dax Hollow, “The Black Hand,” and Fyn Graves, “Bonecarver,” whose violent reputations maintain fear and control. Others, like Tarn Sable, “Iron Thorn,” and Zark, “The Chain,” add muscle and cunning to the group’s operations, while Bloodpact embodies the syndicate’s unwavering loyalty and brutality. Together, these operatives form a tightly-knit web of deception and violence, working under aliases like the Qinghai-based Shadow Cartel or Black Veil Syndicate. All are unified by their lethal skills and their capacity to disappear without a trace.
This network thrives on its mystical aura and tactical mastery, using fear, surprise, and unrelenting precision to remain untouchable in the eyes of its foes.
Faced with this devastating setback, the Ra Zhun must tread carefully, as the fate of their captured comrades hangs in the balance. With three of their most skilled operatives—Yan Xun, the elusive King of Yanbei; Ajing, the most celebrated general of Yanbei; and Douji, the fiercely loyal warrior and trusted aide of Yan Xun—now languishing in chains, their prestige and operational integrity are under severe threat. The once-unshakable reputation of the Ra Zhun is at risk of crumbling, forcing them to act swiftly but with precision. Their only viable path forward lies in persuading Ra Zheng, the mastermind behind their shadowy empire, to negotiate a deal for their freedom.
However, negotiations with enemies—or even with allies in precarious situations—are never straightforward. Ra Zheng, the master of diplomacy but known for his calculated ruthlessness, will not act without ensuring the Ra Zhun stands to gain more than it loses. The stakes are high, and the cost of securing their release could range from betraying allies, relinquishing valuable intelligence, or surrendering key territory, to committing to perilous missions that could destabilize their already fragile grip on power. Trust in Ra Zheng’s leadership is paramount, but even the operatives closest to him know that every decision he makes comes with a hidden price.
The question that looms largest, though, is not whether Ra Zheng will act, but what he will be forced to sacrifice to achieve their freedom. Will he offer up vital resources or secrets to their enemies, risking the exposure of their entire network? Could this lead to internal dissent among the Ra Zhun, questioning whether the lives of three individuals—however skilled—are worth the potential loss of their collective strength? Or will Ra Zheng choose an unconventional path, one that turns the tables on their captors and secures not only the freedom of the prisoners but also a crushing blow to their adversaries?
Every move must be measured, every offer weighed, for the wrong decision could plunge the Ra Zhun into disarray. Yet, in this perilous game of shadow and subterfuge, one truth remains clear: freedom always comes at a cost. The question is not if they will pay, but how much, and whether the price of redemption will cripple them or pave the way for their resurgence.
Ra Zhun’s extreme passivity, when action is needed, has always moved factions within the larger web of spies and assassins, operating on the fringes of major conflicts. Known for his elusive strategies and a philosophy rooted in minimal interference, they have often been accused of passivity during critical moments, such as the infamous battles of Qinghai. Despite their intelligence and tactical prowess, Ra Zhun’s tendency to remain as observers rather than participants has cast doubt on their loyalty and effectiveness. With the looming grand battle of rival spy and assassin networks, their stance is now under intense scrutiny. Will Ra Zhun step out of the shadows and finally act, or will they once again fade into obscurity, leaving others to fight the war they claim to detest?
The Stakes Have Never Been Higher
The shifting alliances and betrayals among the Black Veil Syndicate and other clandestine groups within the Ra Zhun spy network have created a volatile arena where survival depends on decisive action. For Ra Yue, the question is not merely one of involvement but of identity. Are they willing to risk their reputation, resources, and operatives to prove their value in this dangerous world of shadows? Or will their adherence to non-interventionist tactics render them irrelevant, their influence eroded by more aggressive players in this dark game of espionage?
Their previous inaction during Qinghai’s battles has left scars on their reputation, with many questioning whether Ra Zhun is a meaningful force or merely a network of informants too afraid to risk engagement. Yet, some whisper that Ra Yue’s apparent passivity hides a deeper plan—that their absence in past conflicts was not cowardice, but strategy. If this is true, then their silence could be shattered in the coming battle, revealing the full might of a network that has been carefully conserving its strength for a decisive strike.
The tension between Ra Zhun and Ra Yue has always simmered beneath the surface, rooted in fundamental differences in philosophy and tactics. Ra Zhun, with their brutal, guerrilla-style methods and willingness to strike ruthlessly when enemies are vulnerable, views Ra Yue’s elusive and passive approach with disdain. To Ra Yue, Ra Zhun’s reluctance to act in critical moments—like during the battles of Qinghai—is nothing short of cowardice, a refusal to shoulder the risks and responsibilities that come with being a true player in the dangerous world of spies and assassins. For Ra Yue, respect is earned through action and results, and Ra Zhun’s evasive nature undermines that entirely.
Ra Yue harbors a deep dislike for Ra Zhun’s tactics, perceiving them as reckless, overly aggressive, and devoid of subtlety. To Ra Yue, Ra Zhun’s methods are the equivalent of lighting a beacon in the shadows—effective in the short term but ultimately destructive to the delicate balance of power among the networks. Ra Yue prides itself on precision, strategy, and the long game, seeing Ra Zhun’s methods as not only barbaric but also short-sighted and unsustainable. This philosophical divide has fueled animosity between the two groups, making collaboration all but impossible.
Their mutual irritation is further exacerbated by their overlapping spheres of influence. Both networks are highly skilled at infiltration, sabotage, and manipulation, which often puts them at odds over territory and operations. Whenever Ra Zhun carries out a brutal ambush or eliminates a high-profile target, Ra Yue sees it as an unnecessary provocation that destabilizes the delicate power structures they aim to control. Conversely, Ra Zhun sees Ra Yue’s careful, measured strategies as dithering, wasting opportunities for decisive action and allowing enemies to regroup and strengthen.
The rivalry has festered over time, manifesting not only in their tactics but also in personal animosities between their operatives. It is said that Ra Zhun’s enforcer, Khan Duskfang, once dismissed Ra Yue’s leader as “a shadow pretending to be a blade,” while Ra Yue’s chief strategist, Zuo Zong, retorted that Ra Zhun’s agents are “stormtroopers masquerading as spies.” These barbed remarks reflect the deep-seated disdain that both factions harbor for one another.
As the grand battle of spies and assassins looms, their animosity threatens to boil over. With rival networks, Ra Zhun and Ra Yue may find themselves on opposite sides of the battlefield once again. Their rivalry, though long-standing, may now carry higher stakes than ever before. Will their mutual hatred lead them to sabotage each other, weakening both factions in the process? Or will the larger threat force an uneasy alliance, a test of whether they can put aside their differences long enough to survive the deadly game ahead?
The choice is theirs to make. Will Ra Zhun rise to meet the challenge, proving their worth and solidifying their place in the annals of shadow warfare? Or will they watch once more, their name slowly dissolving into insignificance while the grand battle reshapes the balance of power in the underworld? The time to act is now, for inaction in this pivotal moment could cost them everything.
Only time will tell if this bitter enmity will result in mutual destruction—or the emergence of an unexpected, if temporary, partnership.
Chapter 97
Divided Moon
Caged by unseen ties of misguided allegiance.
The Moon Kingdom’s Downfall
The air crackled with tension in the Ebon Throne Room as Queen Zhueje prepared to launch her decisive strike against the Moon Kingdom, a land that had resisted her reign of chaos for too long. With her piercing golden eyes scanning the shadowed chamber, the monarch of terror issued her orders to her most trusted allies. Standing beside her was Xiao Yu, leader of the Skyshadow Elite Spies, whose reputation for stealth and lethality rivaled even Zhueje’s infamous assassins.
The Moon Kingdom had dared to disrupt her conquests, sheltering the Jianghu spies and their leader, Chu Qiao, the defiant daughter of Lou He. To Queen Zhueje, this was not just a territorial dispute—it was a vendetta.
Xiao Yu, clad in her signature raven-black armor laced with glowing crimson sigils, bowed deeply before the queen. Her Skyshadow spies had long operated in the shadows, their skills honed for precision strikes and sabotage. Xiao Yu’s elite operatives—Tao Ye, Shadow Ember, Iron Talon, Whispering Feather, and Blade Serpent—were already embedded in Moon Kingdom territories, gathering intelligence and sowing discord among the kingdom’s defenders.
“Your Majesty,” Xiao Yu said, her voice a cool whisper, “the Moon Kingdom’s defenses rely on the Jianghu spies and their guerrilla tactics. Disrupt their communication and scatter their forces, and they will fall like leaves in a storm.”
Zhueje nodded, her staff tipped with a glowing crimson shard pulsing in her hand. “Then let the storm begin.”
Under cover of darkness, Xiao Yu’s Skyshadow spies began their assault. Tao Ye, the Hawk’s Whisper, led the vanguard, dismantling outposts and silencing sentries with her twin daggers. Shadow Ember, the Silent Blaze, used her alchemical powders to ignite controlled infernos, creating chaos in key supply depots. Whispering Feather scaled the Moon Kingdom’s tallest watchtowers, dispatching sentries and spreading rumors of the queen’s arrival, planting fear in the hearts of the defenders.
As chaos spread, Queen Zhueje’s army followed, her Gorge Spies spearheading the assault. Writhe Weaver unleashed shadowy webs that disoriented the Jianghu spies, while Black Vulture moved like a phantom, taking out key leaders with surgical precision.
Despite the onslaught, the Moon Kingdom’s defenders rallied. The Jianghu spies, led by Chu Qiao, countered the invaders with cunning and resilience. Chu Qiao, draped in her black-and-silver battle attire, used her icy kungfu techniques to freeze entire battalions, creating glacial barriers to slow the enemy’s advance.
From the palace walls, Zhong Yu, master of Chiyu Jian martial arts, summoned a tempest of wind and rain, obscuring the battlefield and disorienting the queen’s forces. The loyal healer Zao Baocung moved among the injured, keeping the Jianghu spies fighting with his restorative arts.
Realizing the resistance was stronger than anticipated, Queen Zhueje herself entered the fray. Her onyx staff carved a fiery path through the battlefield as she unleashed waves of destructive energy. “Witness the fury of chaos!” she roared, her voice echoing like thunder as her staff shattered the icy barriers Chu Qiao had erected.
Meanwhile, Xiao Yu infiltrated the royal palace with Tao Ye and Shadow Ember. Their target was the Moon Kingdom’s central command, where the Jianghu spies coordinated their efforts. Whispering Feather’s silent blades took down guards, while Shadow Ember ignited explosive traps to cripple the palace’s defenses.
As the battle raged, Chu Qiao confronted Queen Zhueje directly. The icy winds around her swirled, forming sharp shards that she hurled with precision. “You will not desecrate this land!” she declared, her voice steady despite the chaos.
Zhueje smirked, her golden eyes blazing. “You are but a shadow of your mother’s strength. Let me show you true power.” With a wave of her staff, Zhueje unleashed a torrent of crimson fire, melting the icy projectiles midair.
Their clash was a dance of fire and ice, each woman wielding immense power. Zhueje’s overwhelming strength began to push Chu Qiao back, but the Jianghu leader’s resilience held firm. Suddenly, Zhong Yu intervened, her tempest combining with Chu Qiao’s icy winds to create a devastating storm that engulfed the queen.
The Moon Kingdom’s Last Stand
Despite their losses, the Moon Kingdom’s defenders refused to yield. Chu Qiao, her icy kungfu at its peak, unleashed the Rain of Ice Needles, a devastating technique that froze entire units of Zhueje’s army in place. Viper, Chu Qiao’s trusted ally, struck from the shadows, taking down Xiao Yu’s operatives one by one using her glowing whip.
The Jianghu spies, bolstered by reinforcements from the Hellfrost Realm, mounted a fierce counterattack. Zhong Yu’s Azure Tempest cleared the battlefield, while Zao Baocung’s healing arts revived fallen warriors.
As dawn broke, the battlefield was a fractured expanse of ice, fire, and shadow. Queen Zhueje, realizing her forces could not break the Moon Kingdom’s defenders without sustaining catastrophic losses, called for a retreat. Xiao Yu, begrudgingly, withdrew her spies, though her gaze lingered on the palace, where Ra Yue had once been rumored to reside.
The Moon Kingdom stood, but at great cost. Chu Qiao and her allies knew the reprieve was temporary. Queen Zhueje’s retreat was not defeat—it was a recalibration. Xiao Yu’s betrayal sowed seeds of distrust within the alliance, and Ra Yue’s shadowy involvement hinted at a greater conspiracy yet to unfold.
In the distance, Queen Zhueje stood on a hill, her staff glowing ominously. “This is not over,” she vowed. “The Moon Kingdom will fall, and chaos will reign.”
The darkened skies above the Moon Kingdom shimmered with the eerie glow of fires burning through the grand halls and gilded towers. Queen Zhueje, a figure of austere beauty and commanding presence, stood at the heart of the chaos. Her forces, bolstered by Xiao Yu’s elite spies, were locked in a ferocious battle against the Jianghu spies summoned by Chu Qiao. The Queen’s counterattack was swift and brutal, yet Chu Qiao had anticipated it.
The Jianghu spies moved like phantoms in the night, their blades striking from the shadows. Their mission was clear—eliminate the Queen’s Gurus, whose mystic powers kept her forces in the upper hand. Chu Qiao, clad in her battle armor, led the assault herself, her voice carrying a call to arms that rallied her scattered allies.
Amidst the chaos, the clash of swords and the cries of dying men echoed across the Moon Kingdom’s sacred grounds. Xiao Yu, ruthless and cunning, confronted Chu Qiao in a brutal faceoff. Their blades met in a deadly dance, sparks flying as their skills and wills collided.
Just when the battle seemed to tilt in the Queen’s favor, Lou He arrived with his underworld spies. His forces were a tide of shadows, overwhelming the Queen’s elite. He struck down her Gurus with precision and confronted Dong Fangyi, one of the Queen’s most formidable commanders. Their battle was short but decisive—Lou He emerged victorious, his blade finding its mark.
The Queen’s end came swiftly after. Lou He, an unstoppable force, struck her down, severing the head of the Moon Kingdom’s resistance. Xiao Yu, however, was spared; Lou He saw her as a greater asset alive than dead. She was imprisoned in the depths of the underworld, her fate uncertain but grim.
The Best of Treachery
The bitter wind swept across the battleground, carrying with it the echoes of clashing steel and cries of war. Chu Qiao stood at the forefront of her Jianghu allies, her steely resolve unbroken even as the Gorge spies pressed their relentless assault. Bloodied but defiant, she fought alongside her comrades, driving back the shadowy enemy inch by inch.
Among her ranks was Zhan Ziyu, a trusted ally—or so she believed. His presence, commanding and assured, had bolstered their forces. Yet beneath the façade of loyalty, ambition festered. Zhan Ziyu’s eyes were not set on the Gorge spies, but on the Wind and Cloud Decree, a relic of immense power and mystery that Chu Qiao had safeguarded at great personal cost.
As the tide of battle turned in their favor, Zhan Ziyu made his move. In the confusion of victory, he struck at Chu Qiao, his blade aimed to claim not her life, but the Decree.
“You’ve grown too powerful, Chu Qiao,” he snarled, his betrayal cutting deeper than any blade. “The Wind and Cloud Decree belongs to someone with vision—someone like me.”
Chu Qiao’s reflexes saved her. Deflecting his strike, she met his betrayal with the ferocity of a warrior scorned. Their blades clashed, each strike a question and answer in the language of combat. The Gorge spies, though scattered, took advantage of the chaos to regroup, forcing Chu Qiao to divide her attention between her treacherous ally and her external enemies.
Though Zhan Ziyu was a skilled fighter, he was no match for Chu Qiao’s discipline and determination. With a calculated maneuver, she disarmed him, her blade pressed against his throat.
“You dare betray the Jianghu?” she demanded, her voice cold with restrained fury. “For what? Power? Greed?”
Before he could answer, her spies subdued him, and the remaining Gorge enemies were eradicated. The battle ended, but the wound of his betrayal lingered.
Zhan Ziyu’s punishment was swift. Chu Qiao stripped him of his command and his network of spies, ensuring that his influence would crumble like a house of sand. “You wanted the Wind and Cloud Decree,” she said as his hands were bound. “Now you’ll see what your ambitions have cost you.”
The following morning, Chu Qiao made the fateful decision to send Zhan Ziyu to Ra Yue. The ruler of Qinghai was both a strategist and a tactician, known for his unyielding justice. If Zhan Ziyu could not be trusted as an ally, he would serve as an example of betrayal’s price.
Under Chu Qiao’s command, Zhan Ziyu was placed aboard a solitary ship, escorted by Ra Yue’s naval forces. As the boat drifted toward the horizon, carrying the defeated traitor toward his fate, Chu Qiao penned a letter to Xiao Ce. In it, she recounted Zhan Ziyu’s treachery and expressed her resolve to prevent such betrayals from threatening their cause again.
Zhan Ziyu arrived at Ra Yue’s stronghold as a prisoner. Stripped of his status, his network dismantled, and his ambitions shattered, he faced a grim reckoning. Ra Yue, with his characteristic precision, ordered Zhan Ziyu detained. His punishment was neither swift nor merciful. Ra Yue ensured that Zhan Ziyu’s downfall served as a lesson to others who might dare betray their cause.
In the end, Zhan Ziyu was sent back alone, aboard a solitary boat under the watchful eyes of Ra Yue’s naval forces. His name, once respected, became synonymous with treachery. The alliance he had betrayed carried on without him, stronger and more resolute in the face of the battles to come.
Watching the horizon where Zhan Ziyu’s ship had disappeared, Chu Qiao allowed herself a moment of reflection. His betrayal had stung deeply, but it had also strengthened her resolve. Trust was a fragile bond in a world fractured by war and ambition, but her conviction remained unshaken.
Turning away, she prepared for the next battle. The Wind and Cloud Decree remained safe, its secrets entrusted to her alone. The war was far from over, but one thing was certain—betrayal would not break her.
Waiting for You!
The Moon Kingdom lay in ruins. Once a beacon of ethereal beauty and untouchable grace, its majestic towers and shimmering palaces were now reduced to crumbling stone and ash. The aftermath of war was unforgiving—streets littered with the remnants of battle, banners torn and bloodied, and the air heavy with the scent of smoke and despair.
Chu Qiao stood amidst the wreckage, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The devastation was vast, a grim testament to the price of resistance. She had fought valiantly, her Jianghu spies striking fear into the hearts of her enemies, but the relentless assault from the Queen’s forces, bolstered by Xiao Yu’s spies, had left the Moon Kingdom irrevocably shattered.
Knowing the Kingdom could no longer withstand another confrontation, Chu Qiao made the difficult decision to retreat. Her spies and loyalists dispersed, many taking refuge in distant lands. Those who remained were tasked with securing the remnants of their resources and ensuring the survival of their cause.
Chu Qiao herself retreated to a secluded stronghold deep within the wilderness. Hidden among mist-shrouded mountains and dense forests, it was a place few knew existed. Here, she could regroup, plan, and wait for the inevitable arrival of Ra Yue.
The stronghold was a stark contrast to the grand halls of the Moon Kingdom. Its walls were plain, its chambers quiet save for the faint rustling of wind through the trees. It was a place of reflection and solitude, yet Chu Qiao found no peace in its stillness.
Each day, she replayed the events of the war in her mind—the battles fought, the lives lost, and the betrayal of Zhan Ziyu. The weight of her decisions pressed heavily on her, but she refused to falter. Her enemies may have claimed the Moon Kingdom, but they had not claimed her spirit.
Chu Qiao knew Ra Yue would come. The strategist in her understood that he would not let the chaos of the war linger unchecked. His arrival would mark a turning point—a chance to reclaim what was lost and strike back against their enemies.
To prepare, Chu Qiao spent her days training, sharpening her skills, and fortifying the stronghold. Her spies brought her reports of the outside world—of Ra Yue’s campaign against the remnants of Queen Zhuéje’s forces and the ripples of power struggles spreading across the lands.
Though the Moon Kingdom had fallen, Chu Qiao carried with her the embers of hope, and this was exactly what Ra Yue had planned. The secluded stronghold became a sanctuary for the displaced and disillusioned—a place where the seeds of rebellion could grow once more.
As the days turned to weeks, Chu Qiao stood ready. She had suffered defeats before and had always risen stronger. The Moon Kingdom may have been heavily damaged, but its spirit lived on in the hearts of those who still believed in freedom.
From the ruins of war, a new path would emerge. And when Ra Yue arrived, Chu Qiao would be prepared to walk it with him, ready to face the battles yet to come.
The Moon Kingdom Exodus
The Moon Kingdom, once a shimmering jewel in the fabric of the world, now lay in ashes. The war had ravaged its lands, torn its people apart, and scattered its culture to the winds. Fires had consumed the grand halls of its Monastery, a place that once echoed with chants of wisdom and the hum of knowledge. Now, it stood silent, a smoldering ruin.
Amid this desolation, the survivors gathered what little remained of their strength. Yuan Song, a figure of quiet resilience, took charge. Beside him stood Ping’An, whose steady presence calmed the fearful and bolstered the broken. Together, they rallied the remnants of their people, leading them on an arduous journey to the Woolong Mountains.
The exodus was grueling. Families trudged through muddy trails, carrying the weight of their shattered lives on their backs. Elders leaned on gnarled staffs, while children clung to their parents, their wide eyes reflecting the flames that still flickered on the horizon.
Yuan Song bore the responsibility with stoic grace. Every step of the way, he ensured the weak were cared for, the wounded tended to, and the frightened reassured. The Woolong Mountains, shrouded in mist and legend, promised safety—a place where the Moon Kingdom’s people could rebuild in the shadow of their tragedy.
Ping’An, a symbol of hope for many, carried the Kingdom’s sacred relics. These artifacts, rescued from the ruins of the Monastery, were fragments of their heritage, preserving the essence of their culture even as their lands lay in ruin.
The war had not only destroyed the Moon Kingdom’s lands but also fractured its identity. Scholars, monks, warriors, and artisans—all who had once thrived under its banner—were now dispersed across the world. Some sought refuge in distant kingdoms, while others disappeared into the shadows, carrying the Moon Kingdom’s stories with them.
Despite the devastation, glimmers of hope persisted. The Woolong Mountains became a beacon for those who sought to rebuild. Yuan Song and Ping’An worked tirelessly to preserve the Kingdom’s culture, ensuring its legacy would endure.
As Chu Qiao awaited Ra Yue’s next move, she reflected on the battles that had led them to this point. She understood that rebuilding would be a slow and painful process, fraught with danger and betrayal. But she also knew that the Moon Kingdom’s spirit was not so easily extinguished.
Ra Yue’s arrival would mark the beginning of a new chapter—one of revenge, renewal, and resistance. The Moon Kingdom had fallen, but its people, scattered though they were, still carried its light.
The Journey to Freedom Community
The war had torn apart the fabric of the Moon Kingdom, scattering its people and allies. Amid the chaos, Chu Qiao took custody of A’Jing and Douji, two survivors whose knowledge and loyalty were invaluable to her cause. Their safety, however, was paramount. She chose to evacuate them to the Freedom Community, a haven hidden in the wild, far from the reach of enemy forces.
The journey was perilous, traversing treacherous terrain and avoiding patrols from the remnants of the Queen’s forces. Chu Qiao led them with her characteristic determination, navigating through dense forests and along winding river paths. A’Jing and Douji, though weary from the war, found solace in her unyielding resolve.
Their destination, the Freedom Community, was a secretive refuge for the displaced, rebels, and outcasts. Nestled on the edge of a sprawling ocean, it was protected by the enigmatic Black Sun pirates, whose reputation as fierce defenders kept even the most ambitious invaders at bay.
Upon their arrival, A’Jing and Douji were introduced to Mo’er, the leader of the Black Sun pirates. Mo’er was a commanding presence—a figure cloaked in mystery, with sharp eyes that seemed to see through a person’s soul. His crew, a mix of hardened warriors and skilled navigators, welcomed Chu Qiao and her companions with a wary respect.
Mo’er, intrigued by Chu Qiao’s reputation as a strategist and warrior, offered his protection in exchange for a potential alliance. “The Black Sun owes no one,” he said with a sly grin. “But I like those who fight for freedom. Let’s see if your cause aligns with ours.”
A tentative agreement was struck, and A’Jing and Douji found themselves under the watchful eyes of the pirates, whose rough exteriors concealed a deep sense of honor and loyalty.
While adapting to their new surroundings, A’Jing and Douji encountered Princess Huan Huan, an enigmatic figure who seemed to drift effortlessly between the roles of observer and participant in the affairs of the Freedom Community.
Huan Huan’s presence was both calming and curious. She carried herself with an air of quiet authority, her words measured and meaningful. Though she shared little of her past, her knowledge of the Moon Kingdom and its allies was startlingly precise.
It was clear she was no ordinary refugee. A’Jing and Douji quickly realized that her presence in the Freedom Community was deliberate. Whether she was an ally or had her own motives remained to be seen, but her conversations with Mo’er hinted at a deeper connection between the pirates and the hidden struggles beyond their shores.
For A’Jing and Douji, the Freedom Community became more than a refuge—it was a place of renewal. Under the guidance of Mo’er and the quiet mentorship of Huan Huan, they began to rebuild their strength and hone their skills.
Chu Qiao, though separated from them for now, kept in contact through secret channels. She ensured they were safe and that their integration into the Community served not just their survival but also the broader cause.
As A’Jing and Douji settled into their new lives, they could not help but feel the currents of change stirring within the Freedom Community. With its pirates, enigmatic leaders, and resilient spirit, it was a powder keg waiting to explode—a place where alliances could be forged, and rebellions could be born.
Though far from the Moon Kingdom’s ruins, A’Jing and Douji remained connected to its legacy. With Mo’er’s pirates and Princess Huan Huan’s cryptic wisdom, they sensed that their time in the Freedom Community was not simply about safety. It was preparation for the battles to come—battles that would determine not just their fates, but the fate of the entire region.
In the shadows of the ocean’s waves and the whispers of the pirates, a quiet resistance began to take root.
A Horrific Landscape of War in Qinghai
The battlefield stretched out like a scorched, unholy wasteland, where the air itself seemed to rot with the stench of decay. Craters pockmarked the earth, each a grotesque reminder of the relentless bombardment that had pulverized the land into a broken skeleton of its former self. Smoke billowed in thick, suffocating clouds, shrouding the sky in a choking veil of ashen gray, turning day into a grim twilight.
Amid the deafening cacophony of gunfire, explosions, and the anguished cries of the wounded, soldiers moved like shadows, their faces etched with the unmistakable mask of despair. Blood flowed in rivers, pooling in the crevices of shattered earth, mingling with mud to form a sticky mire that clung to boots and dragged them down with every step.
The human cost of war lay bare in the twisted bodies strewn across the field—some missing limbs, others contorted into unnatural shapes by the force of blasts. Those still clinging to life screamed for mercy, for relief, for death. Rats, fattened by the carnage, scurried brazenly among the fallen, gnawing at flesh without fear.
The screams of the dying were only rivaled by the silent horror etched in the wide, unseeing eyes of the dead. Trenches became tombs, filled with men packed so tightly that their corpses had to be dragged free with hooks to make room for the living—the living who knew they might not last much longer.
And yet, through this inferno, the machinery of war churned on with mechanical indifference. Tanks groaned and belched black smoke as they rolled over bodies, grinding them into the dirt. Artillery shells howled overhead, their detonations ripping apart not just flesh and bone, but also the fragile remnants of hope and humanity.
Each moment was a nightmare come to life, an unending barrage of agony and terror that left nothing untouched. Mothers would never see their sons again. Lovers would never hold each other once more. The survivors, if they could be called that, bore not just scars on their bodies but wounds on their souls, deeper and more haunting than any bullet could carve.
This was war—not the sanitized version told in tales of glory, but the raw, unrelenting horror of humanity’s darkest instinct laid bare.
The war-torn lands of Qinghai stood as the final bastion of Queen Zhuéje’s power, a stronghold she believed impenetrable. Its towering fortresses and sprawling defenses loomed as a challenge to anyone daring to oppose her. Yet Ra Yue, renowned for his strategic brilliance, was undeterred. From his secluded base of operations, he orchestrated a campaign designed to dismantle the Queen’s reign piece by piece, shaking Qinghai to its core and extinguishing her reign of terror once and for all.
Ra Yue’s forces were not the largest, but they were the most disciplined and covert. Eschewing brute strength, he relied on precision and meticulous planning. Central to his strategy were his invisible spies and the monstrous network of operatives commanded by his brother. These agents infiltrated Qinghai’s infrastructure, sowing chaos and steadily dismantling the Queen’s power from within.
The strategy Ra Yue employed was as multifaceted as it was ruthless. First, he targeted the Queen’s supply lines, severing them and rendering key fortifications useless. Her troops, stretched thin by the prolonged conflict, were soon starving and disorganized, their morale crumbling under the strain. Simultaneously, Ra Yue unleashed waves of misinformation, flooding the Queen’s command structure with false reports that sowed confusion and led her generals to make costly mistakes. Finally, he reached out to discontented factions within Qinghai, offering them autonomy and a chance for redemption in exchange for their allegiance. With each victory, Ra Yue brought the Queen’s fortress of power closer to collapse, proving that even the strongest bastion could fall to the sharp mind of a master tactician.
In the aftermath of Ra Yue’s decisive war against Queen Zhuéje, his brother Ra Zheng took it upon himself to ensure absolute control over Qinghai. While Ra Yue’s strategies had dismantled the Queen’s power, Ra Zheng’s methods focused on eradicating any lingering threats that could rise from the ashes. Employing his invisible spies and his mobster network, he initiated a ruthless purge of the land.
Ra Zheng’s invisible spies infiltrated every corner of Qinghai’s remnants, rooting out the Queen’s nobles and court attendants who had served as the backbone of her regime. These individuals, though stripped of their ruler, still posed a threat by their mere existence. Through a combination of precision assassinations and mass executions, Ra Zheng dismantled the inner circle that had supported the Queen.
The Gorge spies, the Queen’s most elite operatives, were not spared. Known for their loyalty and deadly skills, they were methodically hunted down and eliminated by Ra Zheng’s mobster spies. With their sanctuaries compromised and their networks exposed, the Gorge spies were eradicated, leaving no trace of their once-formidable presence.
The purge extended to every noble and court attendant who had once served under the Queen. Ra Zheng’s forces moved swiftly and mercilessly, ensuring that none who had ties to her rule could claim influence or power. Qinghai’s court, once a symbol of the Queen’s authority, was left vacant and silent—a stark reminder of the cost of opposing Ra Yue and Ra Zheng’s reign.
Through his unrelenting shadow war, Ra Zheng ensured that Qinghai was not only conquered but subdued. The land, purged of its former rulers and defenders, was now firmly under the brothers’ iron control, setting the stage for a new era of their dominion.
Yan’s Ancestor’s Mausoleum
Yan Xun spent many days in the mausoleum, surrounded by the echoes of his ancestors’ struggles. The cold, desolate tombs seemed to mirror his own heart—a place burdened by loss and the weight of his people’s expectations. He reflected on the cost of his rebellion, the lives lost, and the choices that had led him to this moment of exile.
It was in this place of solitude that Chu Qiao found him. Her arrival brought a flicker of warmth to the bleak surroundings. With her were A’Jing and Douji, whom she had freed from captivity. Their reunion, though subdued by the somber atmosphere, was a reminder that even in the darkest times, bonds of loyalty and friendship could endure.
The mausoleum was a desolate place, carved deep into the rocky cliffs that overlooked a barren expanse of wilderness nestled between Yanbei and Qinghai’s borders. The air within was thick and cold, carrying the faint scent of damp stone and the weight of centuries-old silence. Flickering torches cast wavering shadows on the walls, which bore faded carvings of Yanbei’s ancient heroes—warriors immortalized in stone, their faces etched with determination and sorrow.
Yan Xun moved through the dim corridors like a ghost, his footsteps echoing against the vast emptiness. The mausoleum was not merely a resting place for the dead; it was a reminder of the price his ancestors had paid for the freedom of Yanbei. Tombs lay scattered, their inscriptions weathered by time. Some were marked with names of valor, others left blank—a haunting testament to those whose sacrifices had been forgotten by history.
During the day, Yan Xun wandered the halls aimlessly, his mind a storm of regret and resolve. His fingers traced the grooves of ancient carvings, the tactile connection grounding him as he wrestled with his failures. He lingered before the largest tomb, that of his ancestor Yan Zhao, whose rebellion against tyranny had laid the foundation for Yanbei’s defiance. “What would you have done?” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the vast chamber.
At night, the mausoleum transformed into a different kind of sanctuary. The oppressive silence deepened, broken only by the faint rustle of wind seeping through cracks in the stone. Yan Xun would sit cross-legged on the cold floor, staring at the small flame of a single torch. Its light flickered against the dark walls, casting distorted shadows of his silhouette, as if even the flame questioned his place in this sacred ground.
Sometimes, he closed his eyes and allowed the darkness to envelop him. Memories flooded his mind—his childhood, his rise as a prince, the betrayal that had cost him everything, and the countless lives lost under his banner. The screams of fallen comrades and the faces of innocent lives destroyed by his rebellion haunted him.
Other nights, he spoke aloud to the silent tombs, as if the spirits of his ancestors might hear his pleas. “Did I fail them?” he asked, his voice trembling. “Did I bring ruin instead of hope?” The echoes of his words returned to him, mocking in their emptiness.
The mausoleum offered no comfort. Its cold embrace served as a crucible for Yan Xun’s soul, forcing him to confront the enormity of his actions and the weight of his legacy. Yet it also gave him something he had lacked in the years of war: time.
He spent hours in a meditative stillness, his thoughts unraveling into clarity. He examined every choice he had made, every betrayal he had endured, and every loss he had suffered. Slowly, he began to rebuild himself, not as the reckless rebel consumed by vengeance but as a man who understood the cost of his cause.
Despite the bleakness of the mausoleum, there were moments of startling beauty. Occasionally, beams of sunlight pierced through hidden cracks in the ceiling, illuminating the dust motes swirling in the air. Yan Xun would pause, captivated by the fleeting warmth of light in the otherwise dark world. It reminded him that even in exile, there was still hope.
On one such day, he stumbled upon a small alcove housing a simple stone altar. On it lay an old, rusted sword, its blade chipped and its hilt worn. Yan Xun recognized it as the weapon of a nameless warrior who had once died defending Yanbei. The sight moved him deeply, reminding him of the sacrifices made for the freedom he sought to protect.
He knelt before the altar, his hands resting on the hilt of the sword. “I will not let your sacrifices be in vain,” he vowed, his voice steady for the first time since his arrival.
By the time Chu Qiao arrived, Yan Xun was no longer the broken man who had first entered the mausoleum. The days spent in the company of the silent dead had transformed him. He was still haunted, but the flicker of determination had returned to his eyes.
The mausoleum had stripped him of illusions, forcing him to confront his failures and the truth of his rebellion. But it also reminded him of his purpose—the legacy he was bound to honor and the freedom he owed to his people.
Yan Xun’s Transformation
As he greeted Chu Qiao, standing amidst the cold tombs and the whispers of history, he knew his time in the mausoleum had given him something invaluable: clarity, resolve, and a renewed sense of purpose.
Time and hardship had carved a story into Yan Xun’s features, but his rugged handsomeness still lingered, undiminished by the trials of war and exile. His face, angular and strong, bore the shadows of exhaustion and the sharp lines of a man who had seen too much, too soon. His jawline was firm, framed by the faintest trace of stubble that added a raw, untamed edge to his appearance. The faint scars on his cheek and brow told silent tales of battles fought and survived, lending him an air of resilience that only heightened his allure.
His dark eyes, once filled with youthful ambition, now carried a depth that seemed to hold the weight of the world. There was something magnetic in their gaze—a mixture of brooding intensity and quiet determination. They drew people in, as though they could see past facades and into the very soul. The lashes that framed those eyes, unexpectedly thick and dark, softened his otherwise hardened countenance.
Yan Xun’s hair, once meticulously groomed as a prince of Yanbei, now fell in tousled waves around his face. The rich, dark locks were streaked with hints of silver at the temples, not from age but from the relentless stress of his burdens. Yet, instead of diminishing his appearance, it gave him a distinguished, almost otherworldly charm, as though he carried the wisdom of many lifetimes.
His tall, broad-shouldered frame was leaner than before, the result of years on the run and the absence of princely luxuries. The muscle beneath his worn armor spoke of a man who had fought for survival at every turn, his movements imbued with a predator’s grace. Even in stillness, there was an undeniable energy about him, a coiled strength that suggested he could leap into action at any moment.
Despite his weathered appearance, there was an enduring elegance to Yan Xun—a natural nobility that no amount of hardship could erase. His presence was commanding, a blend of raw masculinity and regal bearing that made him impossible to ignore. Whether he stood amidst ruins or in the halls of power, he carried himself with the quiet confidence of a man who knew his worth, even if the world seemed determined to strip him of it.
For those who looked closely, there was also a flicker of vulnerability beneath his stoic exterior. It was this complexity—strength tempered by pain, nobility sharpened by loss—that made his rugged handsomeness unforgettable. Yan Xun was not merely a man shaped by the chaos around him; he was a force of nature, captivating in his defiance of it.
The mausoleum was eerily silent, its vast halls echoing only the faint rustle of Chu Qiao’s footsteps. She moved cautiously, the dim torchlight revealing the ancient carvings and tombs of Yanbei’s forgotten heroes. In the farthest chamber, she found him—Yan Xun, sitting alone on the cold stone floor, his back against the wall, his head bowed. The faint glow of a single flame illuminated his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his features and the heavy shadows beneath his eyes.
For a moment, Chu Qiao stopped in the doorway, unable to speak. He looked so different from the man she had known—a prince once full of ambition and fire. Now, he seemed weathered, his shoulders weighed down by an invisible burden, his presence no longer commanding but cloaked in quiet despair. Yet even in this state, there was something undeniably powerful about him, a strength that had not yet been broken.
“Yan Xun,” she said softly, her voice trembling.
The Reawakening of Yan Xun
His head lifted slowly, as though he had not heard his own name spoken in years. His dark eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, they lit up with recognition. But the spark quickly faded, replaced by the haunting sadness of a man who had lost too much.
“Chu Qiao,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, as though it hurt him to speak. He rose to his feet, his movements deliberate and slow, as if the weight of the mausoleum itself pressed against him.
As they stood facing each other, the silence between them was heavy with unspoken words. Memories of their past flooded both their minds—their laughter, their battles, the bond they had shared when the world seemed simpler. But those days were gone, and the chasm between them felt insurmountable.
Chu Qiao stepped closer, her eyes searching his face. She could see the scars that marked his skin, but it was the pain in his eyes that struck her the hardest. “You’ve been here all this time?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“Yes,” he replied simply, his gaze drifting to the floor. “It’s where I belong now—with the dead.”
Her heart ached at his words. “You don’t mean that,” she said firmly. “You’re not finished. Yanbei needs you—your people need you.”
His lips curled into a bitter smile, but it did not reach his eyes. “What people, Chu Qiao? What kingdom? Look around you. All that remains of Yanbei is this mausoleum. A tomb for the living as much as the dead.”
She reached for his hand, her fingers brushing against his calloused palm, but he pulled away, turning his back to her. “Do you know what I hear when I’m alone here?” he asked, his voice hollow. “I hear their screams. The soldiers who died for me. The innocents caught in the crossfire. I see their faces every time I close my eyes. How can I lead anyone when all I bring is destruction?”
“You didn’t bring destruction, Yan Xun,” Chu Qiao insisted, stepping closer. “You fought for freedom. For justice. You didn’t fail them—they chose to fight because they believed in you.”
He laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and cold. “Belief doesn’t bring back the dead, Chu Qiao.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “No, it doesn’t,” she admitted. “But you’re still alive, Yan Xun. And as long as you live, you have the power to make things right. To honor those who sacrificed everything for you.”
Her words pierced through the wall he had built around himself. Slowly, he turned to face her, and for the first time, his mask of stoicism cracked. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, his jaw tightening as he struggled to hold himself together.
“Why are you here, Chu Qiao?” he whispered. “Why did you come back? You should hate me after everything I’ve done.”
She shook her head, her voice steady despite her tears. “Because I know the man you are. I know the man you can still be. And I will not let you fade into nothingness here.”
He closed his eyes, a single tear slipping down his cheek. “I don’t know if I can do it anymore,” he confessed. “I’m so tired.”
Without hesitation, Chu Qiao stepped forward and embraced him, her arms wrapping around his weary frame. For a moment, he stood rigid, as if unsure how to respond. Then, slowly, he leaned into her embrace, his head resting against her shoulder.
“You’re not alone, Yan Xun,” she whispered. “You never were. And I won’t let you carry this burden alone.”
They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, the silence of the mausoleum enveloping them. When they finally pulled apart, something in Yan Xun’s expression had shifted. The weight was still there, but so was a flicker of determination—a fragile but undeniable spark.
“Stay,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.
“I will,” she replied, her gaze unwavering. “Until you’re ready to leave this place and fight again.”
As the first light of dawn seeped through the cracks in the mausoleum walls, it illuminated them both—two warriors scarred by war, bound by their pasts, and united in their shared hope for a better future. It was a sad reunion, but it was also the beginning of something new—a chance to rise from the ashes and reclaim the legacy they had fought so hard to protect.
News from the Underworld
As Chu Qiao and Yan Xun sat amidst the cold, solemn tombs of the Yan Ancestors’ Mausoleum, the heavy silence between them was finally broken. Her voice, calm but laced with tension, carried words that deepened the already unbearable burden on Yan Xun’s shoulders.
“Xiao Yu,” she began, her gaze fixed on the torchlight flickering against the stone walls. “She’s been captured. Lou He has taken her, and she’s now imprisoned in the underworld.”
Yan Xun’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening as the weight of her words sank in. He lowered his head, his hands curling into fists on his lap. Xiao Yu, once an ally who had walked the fine line between loyalty and enmity, was not a name he could dismiss lightly. Her cunning, her resilience, and the sharp intellect that had made her both an asset and a threat lingered vividly in his mind.
“Imprisoned in the underworld,” he repeated slowly, as if testing the words for some hint of hope. But there was none. He exhaled deeply, the sound heavy with frustration and weariness. “Of all the places to end up. Lou He… he won’t make it easy for her.”
Chu Qiao nodded solemnly, her eyes shadowed with concern. “No, he won’t. She’s valuable to him—for what she knows, for what she’s done. If we do nothing, she’ll either be broken… or worse.”
Yan Xun remained silent for a long moment, his thoughts churning. Xiao Yu’s capture was another thread in the tangled web of alliances and enmities that surrounded them. She was more than just a skilled operative; she was a symbol of everything they had been fighting for—and against. Her fate was tied to the larger conflict that loomed over them, and leaving her to languish in Lou He’s hands could shift the delicate balance of power in ways they couldn’t afford.
“What do you plan to do?” Yan Xun finally asked, lifting his gaze to meet Chu Qiao’s. His dark eyes burned with a mixture of anger and resolve.
“I don’t know yet,” Chu Qiao admitted. “But we can’t abandon her—not after everything. Even if she’s been an enemy at times, we owe it to her to at least try.”
Yan Xun leaned back against the cold stone of the mausoleum, his fingers tracing the edge of the altar beside him. “This war keeps taking pieces of us,” he murmured. “Even those who’ve betrayed us, even those we’ve fought against… we can’t seem to let them go.”
The revelation weighed heavily on them both. It added another layer of complexity to an already volatile situation, another challenge that demanded attention when their resources were stretched thin. Yet neither could ignore it. Xiao Yu’s capture was not just a matter of justice or loyalty—it was another battle in a war where every move could change their fate.
As the sun dipped below the horizon outside the mausoleum, Chu Qiao and Yan Xun remained together in the silence of their shared grief and fragile hope. Far away, the shadows of intrigue and betrayal grew darker, promising a future filled with peril. Yet for this moment, within the hallowed halls of the mausoleum, they found solace in the knowledge that even amidst the ruins of their past, they still had each other.
Brewing Political Storm
Far away from the desolate tombs of Yanbei, in the heart of Wei’s imperial palace, the shadows of intrigue and betrayal thickened. Princess Zama, an enigmatic figure with a penchant for uncovering hidden truths, had turned her sharp focus toward Ra Yue. Now revealed as Yuwen Yue, his growing influence and mysterious connections had become a source of both admiration and fear among those vying for power in Wei. Zama’s curiosity, initially fueled by intrigue, evolved into a dangerous pursuit of knowledge that could alter the political balance of the empire.
From her vantage points in the dim corridors of the palace and through her network of informants, Zama pieced together the transformation of Yuwen Yue. His calculated rise, combined with the remnants of the Yuwen family’s once-vast power, painted him as a potential rival to the Emperor himself. Determined to expose him, Zama reported her findings to the Wei Emperor, casting a harsh spotlight on the Yuwen family and the man who had become a symbol of quiet defiance against imperial control.
The Wei Emperor, ever suspicious and increasingly paranoid, latched onto Zama’s revelations with fervor. Yuwen Gao, Yuwen Yue’s aging grandfather, had long been a contentious figure in court. Though his influence had waned, the shadow of his past power still lingered, casting doubt over the family’s loyalty to the throne. The Emperor, fearing the resurgence of the Yuwen family’s influence, made a ruthless decision: Yuwen Gao would be summoned to court to face judgment for his family’s actions.
The summons carried with it an unmistakable undertone of condemnation. It was clear that the Emperor did not intend for Yuwen Gao to leave the court alive. The order was not just a move against an aging patriarch but a calculated strike against the very foundation of the Yuwen lineage.
The imperial decree reached Shen Jin Gong and Yuwen Huai, figures who had once stood as allies to the Yuwen family. Their loyalty, however, had long since eroded under the pressures of imperial politics and personal ambition. Now, they were tasked with the ultimate betrayal: the execution of Yuwen Gao.
For Yuwen Huai, the decree was a double-edged sword. His family ties to Yuwen Gao made the act not just a betrayal but a test of his willingness to sever all connections to his past for the sake of survival. Shen Jin Gong, pragmatic and ruthless, saw the order as an opportunity to solidify his standing with the Emperor. Together, they would become the instruments of the Emperor’s will, their actions forever staining the legacy of the Yuwen name.
As the storm brewed in Wei’s court, word of the Emperor’s decree reached Yuwen Yue. For the man now known as Ra Yue, the decision was not simply a blow to his family but a direct challenge to his identity and loyalties. His transformation into Ra Yue had allowed him to distance himself from the burdens of his lineage, but the attack on Yuwen Gao forced him to confront the ties he thought he had left behind.
Would he intervene to save his grandfather, risking his carefully constructed position of power? Or would he remain silent, sacrificing the man who had raised him to protect the future he had built for himself? The court would soon become a stage for betrayal, testing Yuwen Yue’s strength, his loyalty, and the limits of his humanity.
As Princess Zama watched from the shadows, her role in the unfolding drama became clear. She had set events into motion that would not only challenge the Yuwen family but also reshape the very fabric of Wei’s political landscape. The question that lingered was whether her curiosity had unleashed a force she could no longer control—and whether Yuwen Yue would emerge as a survivor or a shattered relic of the past.
The court of Wei was in turmoil, its halls thick with tension as whispers of rebellion, treachery, and ambition echoed through its chambers. The Emperor, increasingly paranoid and desperate to consolidate his power, demanded a reckoning with the Yuwen family. The decree to summon Yuwen Gao for judgment, paired with orders for his execution, hung like a blade over the Yuwen lineage. Yet, it was not Yuwen Gao who would face the Emperor’s wrath first, but his grandson, Yuwen Yue.
Yuwen Yue, now known as Ra Yue, had long operated from the shadows, carefully building his influence and executing his plans with precision. But the Emperor’s paranoia had forced his hand. Knowing that remaining hidden would only embolden the Emperor’s actions against his family, Yuwen Yue chose to reveal himself.
Arriving at the imperial court in full regalia, Yuwen Yue’s presence was both a defiance of the Emperor’s suspicions and a declaration of his unyielding loyalty to his family. Accompanying him was Yuan Che, the Emperor’s Seventh Prince, a trusted ally, and a cohort of battle-hardened generals whose loyalty to Yuwen Yue was as resolute as their readiness for combat. Their entrance into the court silenced the murmurs of doubt, as their unified front sent a clear message: the Yuwen family was far from defeated.
Meanwhile, the political storm that threatened the Wei court pushed Yuan Song, the Crown Prince, to his breaking point. Tired of the endless power struggles and the mounting pressure of courtly life, he made a startling decision. Yuan Song retreated to the Woolong Mountains, abandoning his claim to the throne and expressing his desire to step down as Crown Prince of Wei.
This decision left the Emperor with no clear successor, forcing him to face a pivotal choice. With the court divided and factions vying for influence, the Emperor’s hesitation only deepened the crisis. For Yuwen Yue, this presented an opportunity—but it also heightened the stakes of his confrontation with the Emperor.
Situation in Wei’s Throne Room
The throne room of the Wei court was alive with tension, a theater of political intrigue and veiled hostility. The Wei Valves, the Yuwen nobles, and officials stood in their ranks, layered one after another. Their whispers fell silent the moment Yuwen Yue entered. The grandeur of the hall—the golden throne raised high, the polished floors reflecting the flickering torchlight—contrasted sharply with the cold hostility that hung in the air. He entered as Royal Crown Prince, declaring his title and His Highness.
The Wei nobles were immediately struck with awe. Yuwen Yue’s envoys settled into the Throne Room as well. He had brought his entire army, along with the men of Qinghai. He was not here to die.
The Wei court, already tense from the Emperor’s cryptic actions, was suddenly thrown into further astonishment. As if on cue, the grand doors of the throne room swung open once more, revealing a procession that sent shockwaves through the gathered nobles. Yuwen Yue’s envoys entered first, their polished armor glinting under the torchlight, their movements sharp and disciplined. Behind them came a sight no one had anticipated: Yuwen Yue’s army, an imposing force of soldiers clad in battle-worn regalia, a stark reminder of the power that now stood before the Emperor.
At the forefront of this force marched the Qinghai masked men—enigmatic warriors whose loyalty to Yuwen Yue was unwavering. Their faces concealed beneath intricate masks, they symbolized both mystery and might, a force that had brought Qinghai to its knees under Yuwen Yue’s command. Their silent but commanding presence was enough to send a clear message to everyone in the throne room: Yuwen Yue was not here to plead for his life.
The sight of Yuwen Yue’s forces settling into formation within the throne room silenced even the sharpest whispers among the Wei nobles. The sheer audacity of his entrance, combined with the discipline and strength of his army, made even the most skeptical voices falter.
The Emperor’s gaze shifted, his dark eyes narrowing as he took in the display. It wasn’t fear that crossed his face, but intrigue—a recognition that Yuwen Yue was playing a dangerous game, one that would either solidify his position or seal his fate.
Yuwen Huai, who had earlier sneered at his cousin with sarcastic remarks, now stood frozen. His face betrayed a flicker of uncertainty, and his confidence visibly wavered. The court, which had been on the verge of mocking Yuwen Yue, now found itself questioning its assumptions.
Yuwen Yue stepped forward, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority. “Your Majesty,” he began, bowing with the grace of a man who knew both the power of tradition and the value of calculated rebellion. “I stand here not to beg for my life, nor to defend the honor of my family with words alone. My actions, my victories, and the loyalty of these men are my answer to any questions about my commitment to Wei.”
He gestured subtly toward the Qinghai masked men. “These warriors, and the lands they represent, stand as proof of my loyalty. Qinghai has been brought under control—not for personal ambition, but for the stability of this empire.”
The court erupted into murmurs, the words of astonishment and speculation rippling through the ranks of officials and nobles. Yuwen Yue’s calm assertion and the visible strength of his forces had shifted the dynamic in the room entirely.
The Wei Emperor leaned forward on his throne, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest. His expression betrayed nothing, but the subtle tension in the air suggested that he was weighing his options carefully.
“You have brought your army into my court,” the Emperor said finally, his voice measured. “An impressive show of strength, but also a dangerous one. You are either very confident or very foolish.”
Yuwen Yue met his gaze unflinchingly. “I am confident, Your Majesty, because my loyalty has never wavered. But I am not foolish. I bring this strength not to threaten you, but to remind this court that Wei’s true power lies not in words, but in actions. Qinghai’s lands and warriors stand ready to serve Wei, but only if unity is maintained.”
The Wei nobles, once eager to see Yuwen Yue humbled, now found themselves in awe of his audacity and calculated defiance. It was clear that Yuwen Yue was not here to die. His presence, reinforced by the sheer might of his army and the enigmatic Qinghai masked men, was a statement of both his strength and unshakable will.
As the Emperor’s eunuch, Tai Wei, stepped forward to bow to the throne, the court held its collective breath, waiting to see how the Emperor would respond. For now, the tension was palpable, the future uncertain. Yuwen Yue had turned what could have been his execution into a calculated gambit, leaving the court wondering whether the Emperor would embrace him as an ally or strike him down as a threat to his power.
One thing was certain: the throne room had become the stage for a power play unlike any Wei had ever seen, with Yuwen Yue standing firmly at its center, unbowed and unbroken.
Yuwen Yue, now known as Ra Yue, strode in wearing full ceremonial armor. His polished breastplate and regal bearing cast him as a figure of defiance and dignity. Flanking him were Zhao Che and a contingent of generals, their mere presence a silent declaration of strength. The murmurs of the court fell to silence as all eyes turned to the man who had been both a ghost and a legend, now standing before the Emperor.
The Wei Emperor sat upon the throne, his expression inscrutable. His dark eyes fixed on Yuwen Yue, their sharpness betraying both suspicion and curiosity. The tension was palpable, as if the court itself held its breath, awaiting the clash of words that would decide the fate of one of Wei’s most enigmatic figures.
The first to break the silence was Yuwen Huai, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he stepped forward from his place among the nobles.
“So, the great Yuwen Yue returns,” he sneered, his tone mocking. “A hero, some might say, though others would call him a shadowy manipulator who abandoned his duties when the Yuwen family needed him most.”
Yuwen Yue met his cousin’s gaze with icy calm, his expression unreadable. The court turned its attention to the exchange, their curiosity piqued by the personal animosity between the two.
“Tell us,” Yuwen Huai continued, his voice taking on the air of a prosecutor addressing a criminal. “Why should this court trust a man who has operated from the shadows, who has hidden his true intentions, and who appears before the Emperor now only because he was forced to?”
The words hung in the air, a deliberate attempt to frame Yuwen Yue as a villain. The court buzzed with hushed whispers, and even Zhao Che’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.
Yuwen Yue, however, remained composed. “A man who acts from the shadows is no less loyal than one who shouts his loyalty in the light,” he replied, his voice steady and unyielding. “What matters is the result: that Wei remains strong, its enemies subdued, and its Emperor secure.”
The Wei Emperor raised his hand, silencing the murmurs of the court and the brewing argument between the cousins. His gaze, sharp and commanding, remained fixed on Yuwen Yue.
“Enough of this questioning,” the Emperor said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. The court fell into stunned silence. Even Yuwen Huai, emboldened by his position, stepped back, his sneer faltering.
The Emperor gestured to his eunuch, Tai Wei, who stepped forward carrying a small lacquered box. “Bring it here,” the Emperor commanded. Tai Wei bowed and moved to stand before the throne, the box held with reverence.
The court watched in breathless anticipation as the Emperor opened the box, revealing an intricately crafted plaque bearing an imperial seal—a posthumous award, one that symbolized unparalleled honor, intended to be granted to the Yuwen family in recognition of their service to Wei.
“This,” the Emperor declared, “was meant to honor the Yuwen family. It is a testament to their legacy, their loyalty, their sacrifices.”
The court leaned in, their intrigue growing. But what followed shocked them all.
“Burn it,” the Emperor commanded, his voice cold and unrelenting.
The Burning of the Plaque & the Emperor’s Declaration
Tai Wei hesitated for only a moment before obeying. He carried the plaque to a brazier at the center of the throne room and dropped it into the flames. The fire consumed it quickly, the intricate carving reduced to ash as the court watched in stunned silence.
The act left everyone in awe and uncertainty. It was a gesture both symbolic and cryptic, its meaning layered with implications. Was it a condemnation of the Yuwen family? A challenge to Yuwen Yue? Or perhaps a signal of the Emperor’s unpredictable nature?
The Emperor rose from his throne, his eyes still locked on Yuwen Yue. “Yuwen Yue,” he said, his voice echoing through the chamber. “You stand here as both accused and praised. You have been a shadow and a light. But make no mistake, this court will tolerate no defiance.”
The court was left speechless, their minds racing with speculation about what the Emperor’s actions meant for Yuwen Yue’s fate. To honor a family’s legacy only to destroy it in front of the court was a move unprecedented in Wei’s history.
For Yuwen Yue, the Emperor’s actions were a clear warning. He understood that his presence in the court was as much about testing his loyalty as it was about his family’s survival. The burning plaque was not just an insult—it was a reminder that power in Wei was fleeting and that even the most influential families could fall.
As the embers of the plaque smoldered in the brazier, Yuwen Yue stood tall, his expression as impassive as ever. His calculated composure betrayed none of the turmoil within, but his mind was already working, preparing for what would come next.
The throne room remained heavy with uncertainty, its players left to wonder how the Emperor’s cryptic gesture would shape the court’s future—and whether Yuwen Yue would emerge as a hero, a criminal, or something far more dangerous.
The atmosphere in the throne room, already heavy with tension, became almost suffocating as the Wei Emperor rose from his throne. His movements were deliberate, each step forward echoing in the silent chamber. The gathered nobles, generals, and officials, still reeling from the audacious presence of Yuwen Yue and his forces, dared not breathe too loudly.
“Since the Yuwen heir is alive and well,” the Emperor began, his voice calm yet cutting through the air like a blade, “there is no need for any awards.”
He paused, his eyes scanning the room, daring anyone to interrupt. “I welcome the Crown Prince of Qinghai.”
The Emperor’s words fell like thunder upon the throne room. Gasps rippled through the court, quickly silenced by the sheer weight of the declaration. The implications were staggering. To name Yuwen Yue as the Crown Prince of Qinghai was more than a statement of trust—it was a bold move that redefined the balance of power within the empire.
Yuwen Yue himself, though composed, felt the full gravity of the Emperor’s words. He had expected resistance, perhaps even open hostility, but this? This was an outcome that shifted the battlefield entirely.
The Qinghai masked men bowed in unison, their silent acknowledgment of the Emperor’s decree reinforcing the legitimacy of his statement. Yet the rest of the court remained frozen, unsure how to react.
No one dared to move. The Wei court, usually a cacophony of whispers, sarcasm, and posturing, was now utterly still. Yuwen Huai, who had moments earlier mocked his cousin, was visibly pale, his mouth slightly agape as he struggled to process what he had just heard. The nobles exchanged wide-eyed glances but said nothing, each calculating the potential consequences of this sudden shift in power.
Zhao Che, standing steadfast beside Yuwen Yue, allowed the faintest flicker of a smile to cross his lips. He had known that Yuwen Yue’s gambit was bold, but this unexpected elevation by the Emperor was a masterstroke—one that changed the game entirely.
Yuwen Yue bowed deeply, his every movement calculated to show respect without betraying weakness. “Your Majesty honors me beyond measure,” he said, his voice steady and resolute. “If this title is bestowed, then I pledge myself and Qinghai to the service of Wei, with unwavering loyalty.”
The Emperor nodded, his expression unreadable. It was clear to all that this move was as much about consolidating his control over Qinghai as it was about recognizing Yuwen Yue’s growing influence. By naming him Crown Prince of Qinghai, the Emperor had ensured that the powerful territory remained aligned with Wei, while also tying Yuwen Yue’s hands politically.
The declaration was not merely a reward; it was a masterful power play. By elevating Yuwen Yue to a princely title, the Emperor had effectively neutralized any immediate threats from the Yuwen family while binding Yuwen Yue’s loyalty to the imperial throne. Yet, it also positioned Yuwen Yue as a significant player in the empire’s future—a fact that did not go unnoticed by the other members of the court.
For Yuwen Yue, the title was both an opportunity and a challenge. It granted him legitimacy and authority, but it also placed him under even greater scrutiny. The Emperor’s declaration had made him both an asset and a target, forcing him to navigate the dangerous waters of imperial politics with even greater care.
As the Emperor returned to his throne, the silence in the room remained unbroken. The brazier where the award had been burned still smoldered, a potent symbol of the Emperor’s unpredictability. No one dared to question his decision, yet everyone felt the shift in the room’s power dynamics.
The tension lingered, every member of the court wondering what this new development meant for Wei’s future. Yuwen Yue stood at the center of it all, calm and unyielding, his presence commanding as he prepared to embrace the next phase of his destiny.
For the moment, the Emperor had spoken, and his words had redefined the game. Now, the court could only wait to see what moves would come next.
Saving Grandfather Yuwen Gao
The Emperor, emboldened by Zama’s initial reports, had ordered Yuwen Gao’s execution as a final blow against the Yuwen family. The aging patriarch, frail but unbroken, was brought before the court to face his judgment. Shen Jin Gong and Yuwen Huai, tasked with carrying out the sentence, stood ready to fulfill the Emperor’s orders.
However, Yuwen Yue, prepared for this moment, intervened. With Zhao Che and his generals by his side, he disrupted the execution, his forces overwhelming the guards stationed to carry out the act. Yuwen Yue’s dramatic entrance into the chamber was both a rescue and a declaration of defiance.
Facing the Emperor directly, Yuwen Yue stood resolute, his voice steady and unyielding. “The Yuwen family has served Wei with honor and loyalty for generations. If you wish to erase us, you will not do so without reckoning with the consequences.”
The court erupted into chaos as the Emperor, cornered by Yuwen Yue’s boldness and the loyalty of his allies, was forced to reconsider his actions. Yuwen Gao was spared from a grim execution, his survival a testament to the strength of his grandson’s resolve.
With Yuan Song’s retreat and Yuwen Yue’s defiance, the Emperor was left with a precarious dilemma. The absence of a clear heir to the throne intensified the political instability within the court, forcing the Emperor to deliberate on the future of Wei’s leadership.
Though Yuwen Yue’s bold actions had saved his grandfather and demonstrated his strength, they also painted him as both a threat and a potential savior of the empire. As the court awaited the Emperor’s decision, the question loomed large: would Yuwen Yue’s defiance mark the beginning of a new era of influence for the Yuwen family, or would it set the stage for further conflict?
For Yuwen Yue, the day’s events were not merely about saving his grandfather or striking back at his enemies. They were a reminder of the fragile balance between loyalty and survival, power and morality. The confrontation had tested him to his core, forcing him to navigate the thin line between preserving his family’s legacy and becoming a target for the Emperor’s wrath.
As the shadows deepened within the imperial court, one thing was certain: Yuwen Yue’s place in the story of Wei was far from over, and the choices he made would shape the fate of the empire for generations to come.
While navigating the treacherous politics of the court, Yuwen Yue discovered that Princess Zama, the shadowy instigator of the Emperor’s paranoia, had been manipulating events from the background.
To send a clear message to Princess Zama, Yuwen Yue launched a calculated strike against the blackguards. His forces, precise and unrelenting, dismantled their network piece by piece, exposing Zama’s machinations and eliminating her operatives. In the process, Yuwen Yue personally confronted Zama, teaching her a harsh lesson about the consequences of meddling with his family. The strike not only neutralized a key adversary but also demonstrated his ability to act decisively and without mercy when provoked.
Uniting the Realms
With the liberation of Qinghai complete and the Moon Kingdom slowly recovering from the devastation of war, Ra Yue and Chu Qiao found themselves standing at the crossroads of a new era. The fall of Queen Zhueje had left a power vacuum in the fractured realms, one that threatened to destabilize the fragile peace they had fought so hard to achieve. The specter of chaos loomed large, drawing opportunists like Zhan Ziyu, who sought to exploit the instability for his gain.
Zhan Ziyu, embittered by his past defeats, reemerged in the aftermath of Queen Zhueje’s downfall. Using his alchemical experiments, he began weaving a web of influence in the scattered territories, promising power and prosperity to those who allied with him. His experiments, dangerous and unpredictable, threatened to sow discord among the already fragile alliances.
His growing influence reached Ra Yue’s ears through his network of spies, prompting immediate action. “Zhan Ziyu thrives in chaos,” Ra Yue told Chu Qiao during one of their strategy meetings. “We cannot allow him to manipulate the fragments of these realms into another war.”
At the center of the turmoil lay the Wind and Cloud Decree. The fragments of this powerful artifact, scattered across the realms, remained a source of tension and greed. Whispers of its immense power attracted not just Zhan Ziyu but countless others, each willing to risk everything for the chance to wield it.
Chu Qiao, the decree’s guardian, bore the weight of this responsibility. She spent days poring over maps and intelligence reports, identifying regions where the decree’s fragments might be hidden. Her resolve was unshakable. “If the decree falls into the wrong hands,” she said, “it won’t just reignite the war—it will destroy any hope of unity.”
As Qinghai’s new leader, Ra Yue became a symbol of hope for the fractured realms. His efforts to rebuild the war-torn territory went beyond military strategy; he sought to restore trust and mend broken alliances.
Ra Yue called for a summit of leaders, inviting representatives from every major faction to meet in Qinghai. The gathering was unprecedented—a chance for former enemies to sit at the same table and discuss the future. Some came out of genuine hope for peace; others, drawn by curiosity or self-interest. Ra Yue’s charisma and strategic vision began to turn skepticism into cautious optimism.
Meanwhile, Chu Qiao worked tirelessly behind the scenes, ensuring the summit’s security and building covert alliances. Her influence among the Jianghu spies and her understanding of the political landscape proved invaluable. Together, Ra Yue and Chu Qiao became a formidable team, their shared vision of unity driving their every move.
Despite their progress, the shadows of the past lingered. Ra Yue still faced distrust from factions that questioned his transformation from a shadowy figure into a ruler. Chu Qiao carried the burden of those she had lost, the memories of betrayal and sacrifice haunting her steps.
The road ahead was fraught with danger. Zhan Ziyu’s manipulations grew bolder, his alchemical experiments creating devastating weapons that threatened to destabilize the region further. The fragments of the Wind and Cloud Decree, scattered and contested, remained a volatile force that could either unite the realms or shatter them beyond repair.
Chu Qiao said, “He did not learn his lesson still.”
Amid the turmoil, Ra Yue and Chu Qiao’s shared vision of unity began to take shape. They sought not just to end the wars but to build a lasting peace—one that respected the unique identities of the realms while forging bonds of trust and cooperation.
To achieve this, they knew they would need to confront the looming threats head-on. Zhan Ziyu had to be stopped, the fragments of the decree secured, and the fractured leaders of the realms brought into alignment. It was a monumental task, but they faced it with unwavering resolve.
“We’ve come too far to let the shadows of the past dictate our future,” Ra Yue said to Chu Qiao as they prepared for the next stage of their journey.
Chu Qiao nodded, her eyes fierce with determination. “This isn’t just about survival anymore,” she replied. “It’s about creating something worth fighting for.”
Though the pieces of a new era were slowly falling into place, the war was far from over. The road to unity was long and perilous, and the enemies lurking in the shadows would not surrender easily. Yet, with Ra Yue’s leadership and Chu Qiao’s unwavering strength, there was hope that the fractured realms could finally find balance.
In the chaos of a divided world, unity is the greatest rebellion.
In a world where division is normal, unity isn’t just a dream—it’s a bold, brave act that challenges the chaos. Achieving it takes effort, sacrifice, and a clear vision, making it a powerful stand against conflict.
Chapter 98. Part 1
Gates of Destiny
“The gates of destiny open only for those bold enough to claim their place.”
The throne room of the Wei imperial palace was bathed in an ethereal glow, sunlight filtering through the intricate latticework of its towering windows. The Emperor sat upon the gilded throne, his expression stoic yet watchful. His sharp gaze scanned the grand hall as Yuwen Yue entered, his measured steps echoing against the polished marble floor.
Draped in his formal attire, Yuwen Yue exuded quiet strength. The weight of his past, his transformation into Ra Yue, and his recent rise as Crown Prince of Qinghai were etched into his bearing. Yet, he stood tall and composed, embodying the dignity and resolve of his lineage.
The Emperor broke the silence with a commanding voice that filled the chamber. “Yuwen Yue,” he began, the words heavy with significance. “You return to this court not as a shadow, but as a man who commands armies, unites territories, and wields power rivaling my own. Do you come as a servant of Wei—or as a contender to my throne?”
Yuwen Yue knelt, bowing deeply, his voice calm but firm. “Your Majesty, I come as a servant of Wei, loyal to its prosperity and stability. My actions have been guided by the principles instilled in me by the Eyes of God and the legacy of the Yuwen household.”
The Emperor’s gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained sharp. “The Eyes of God,” he echoed, leaning forward. “The secret of your family, and its gift. Once a source of immense power, now shrouded in disgrace. Tell me, Yuwen Yue, what compels you to reclaim that legacy?”
Yuwen Yue raised his head, his eyes meeting the Emperor’s without hesitation. “The Eyes of God are not just a weapon or a tool, Your Majesty. They are a responsibility—a burden my ancestors bore to serve Wei with honor. That legacy was tainted by betrayal and greed, but I seek to restore it. Not for personal gain, but to uphold the vision it was meant to represent: loyalty, vigilance, and protection for the empire.”
The Emperor studied him for a long moment before speaking again. “And what of your family, Yuwen Yue? Do you intend to restore the Yuwen household to its former glory? Do you seek to reclaim its place at the heart of this court?”
Yuwen Yue stood, his posture unwavering. “The Yuwen family served Wei for generations. Its downfall came from within—errors and ambitions that I do not deny. But I am not here to seek power for my household. I am here to serve Wei, to protect its future. If that means the restoration of the Yuwen name, then so be it. But I will not repeat the mistakes of the past.”
As he approached the throne, the tension in the room was palpable. The court had gathered to witness this reunion between the Emperor and the last scion of the once-mighty Yuwen family—a meeting charged with history, power, and the unspoken promise of retribution or reconciliation.
The Emperor rose from his throne, descending the dais to stand before Yuwen Yue. For a moment, the two men regarded each other in silence, their mutual respect evident despite the tension.
“You speak of service, of loyalty,” the Emperor said finally. “But loyalty is tested not in words, but in action. Your victories in Qinghai have proven your strength. Your defense of your grandfather, Yuwen Gao, has shown your resolve. Yet, this court remains wary of you.”
Yuwen Yue inclined his head. “I understand, Your Majesty. Trust is not given—it is earned.”
The Emperor’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Then I will test you, Yuwen Yue. If you are to reclaim the Eyes of God and the title of Heir to the Yuwen household, you will do so under my conditions. You will report directly to me, your every move scrutinized. The Eyes of God will serve Wei, not your ambitions. Do you accept these terms?”
Without hesitation, Yuwen Yue replied, “I accept, Your Majesty. My loyalty to Wei is absolute.”
The Emperor turned to the gathered court, his voice rising with authority. “Hear me now! Yuwen Yue, scion of the Yuwen family, is restored to his rightful place as Heir to the Eyes of God and the head of the Yuwen household. Let this serve as a reminder to all that loyalty, resilience, and service to Wei will be rewarded.”
The imperial court stood in stunned silence as Yuwen Yue knelt before the Emperor, his voice steady but resolute. “Your Majesty,” he said, “I am deeply honored by your decision to restore my title and install me as the leader of the Eyes of God. But I cannot accept this responsibility—not yet.”
The Emperor’s gaze hardened, his expression unreadable. “Explain yourself, Yue’er. The Eyes of God are your family’s legacy. Why would you refuse what is rightfully yours?”
Yuwen Yue raised his head, his calm eyes meeting the Emperor’s. “The Eyes of God are not what they once were. They were corrupted, turned into a weapon of control rather than a force for vigilance and protection. Before I can accept the mantle of leadership, they must be rebuilt into what they were always meant to be—a beacon of trust and integrity. Until then, I cannot claim the title.”
The court erupted into murmurs, shocked by Yuwen Yue’s audacious declaration. The Emperor raised a hand, silencing them. “Rebuilt, you say?” he repeated, his voice thoughtful. “And how do you propose to achieve this?”
Yuwen Yue’s voice was firm. “By selecting new operatives loyal not to a single man, but to Wei itself. By purging corruption and creating a structure that serves the empire’s people, not political ambition. And by ensuring that the next leader of the Eyes of God is chosen not by inheritance, but by merit.”
The Emperor leaned back in his throne, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You would deny yourself power for the sake of principle. That is rare indeed. Very well, Yue’er. You may rebuild the Eyes of God on your terms. But know this—Wei cannot wait forever. The time will come when a leader must step forward. Do not delay that moment longer than necessary.”
Yuwen Yue bowed deeply. “I understand, Your Majesty. I will not falter.”
The Emperor’s decision to honor Yuwen Yue despite his refusal came swiftly. In a grand ceremony attended by the nobles and citizens of Wei, the Emperor proclaimed:
“Yuwen Yue, scion of the Yuwen household, has proven himself a man of unparalleled loyalty and principle. His actions in Qinghai and his unwavering dedication to the empire merit recognition beyond titles. As of today, his status in Wei is restored, and he shall be remembered not as a man who sought power, but as one who earned it.”
The Emperor revealed plans for a monument to be erected in the capital, dedicated to Yuwen Yue. The statue, carved from white jade, depicted him standing resolutely, his gaze cast toward the horizon as a symbol of vigilance and leadership. At its base, an inscription read:
“In honor of Yuwen Yue: a man who upheld duty above ambition, loyalty above power, and integrity above all else.”
The monument became a symbol of inspiration, reminding the people of Wei that true leadership comes from selflessness and vision.
The court erupted in murmurs of shock and admiration. The once-disgraced Yuwen household had been given a second chance, and its youngest heir stood as a symbol of redemption and resolve.
The Emperor’s expression grew serious as he addressed Yuwen Yue again. “You have the strength of Qinghai at your command and the wisdom of the Yuwen legacy at your disposal. Use them wisely, for the enemies of Wei grow bold. Your first task will be to root out the remnants of rebellion within the imperial borders and prove that the Eyes of God remain a force for stability.”
Yuwen Yue bowed deeply once more. “I will not fail you, Your Majesty.”
As the court dispersed, the Emperor gestured for Yuwen Yue to follow him into the private chambers behind the throne. The tension between them softened as they sat across from one another, the formality of the throne room replaced by a more personal tone.
The halls of the Wei imperial palace were eerily quiet, the usual hum of servants and courtiers replaced by a solemn stillness. Yuwen Yue, clad in his customary dark attire, strode purposefully through the empty corridors, his every step reverberating softly against the cold marble. His arrival was unannounced—there had been no edict, no formal summons. It was an audacious act, but Yuwen Yue knew the Emperor would receive him.
The guards hesitated as he approached the Emperor’s private chambers, their expressions flickering with uncertainty. With a mere glance, Yuwen Yue silenced their protests, his authority undeniable. The doors to the chamber swung open, revealing the Emperor seated alone, his figure framed by the soft glow of lantern light.
The once-mighty ruler of Wei, now withered with age, sat hunched in his chair, his robes of gold and crimson pooling around him like the fading remnants of his former grandeur. His hair, streaked with white, framed a face marked by time and sorrow. The lines on his face spoke of countless battles fought—not on the battlefield, but within the confines of his own heart.
Yuwen Yue’s unexpected return from presumed death had clearly shaken the Emperor. Though he remained silent, his eyes betrayed a kaleidoscope of emotions: relief, guilt, longing, and an unspoken grief that had lingered for years.
The room was thick with unspoken words. Yuwen Yue knelt before the Emperor, his voice soft yet resolute. “Your Majesty,” he began, his words cutting through the oppressive silence, “I have returned—not as a shadow, but as the man you once trusted.”
The Emperor’s gaze softened, though his lips remained pressed in a thin line. He leaned forward, his frail hand trembling as it rested on the armrest. For a moment, it seemed as if he might speak, but he remained silent, his eyes searching Yuwen Yue’s face as if to confirm that this was no illusion.
“You remind me of your father,” the Emperor said after a moment. “He was a man of principle, but also one who understood the complexities of power. Tell me, Yuwen Yue, do you trust me?”
The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. Yuwen Yue, ever composed, replied carefully. “I trust that Your Majesty will always act in the best interests of Wei.”
The Emperor chuckled softly. “A cautious answer, but a wise one. You are correct—my actions will always prioritize Wei. Remember that, Yuwen Yue. As long as our goals align, you will have my favor. But stray, and the Yuwen family will not survive a second fall.”
Yuwen Yue nodded solemnly. “I understand, Your Majesty.”
Yuwen Yue rose slowly, moving to stand closer to the Emperor. He did not need words to understand the emotions etched into the Emperor’s weary expression. “I know I caused you pain,” Yuwen Yue said, his voice steady but tinged with regret. “My death—my absence—must have brought you sorrow. You treated me like your own child, and I repaid your trust by leaving.”
The Emperor’s hand tightened into a fist, the tremor betraying the intensity of his feelings. A faint rasp escaped his lips, but still, he did not speak. Yuwen Yue knew the Emperor’s pride would not allow him to voice his pain, yet his silence spoke louder than words ever could.
“I have returned,” Yuwen Yue continued, his tone firm, “not to undo the past, but to atone for it. I come not just as a servant of Wei, but as the man you once believed in. If I can ease the burden I placed on your heart, I will do so.”
At these words, the Emperor’s gaze fell to his lap, his stoicism faltering. His shoulders trembled slightly, and for the first time, Yuwen Yue saw the vulnerability of the man behind the crown. The weight of years, of power wielded and sacrifices made, bore down on him like an unrelenting tide.
Finally, the Emperor spoke, his voice hoarse and strained. “Yuwen Yue,” he whispered, the words cracking under the weight of emotion. “Do you have any idea… the emptiness you left behind?”
Yuwen Yue knelt again, bowing his head. “I do, Your Majesty. I saw the shadow of that emptiness in the eyes of those who remembered me. And I see it now in you.”
The Emperor shook his head, a bitter smile playing at his lips. “They told me to forget you. To let the memory of the Yuwen family fade into obscurity. But how could I? You were more than just a loyal servant… You were my son, Yue’er.”
The rare term of endearment struck Yuwen Yue like a blade. For all his composed strength, he felt his heart tighten at the Emperor’s words. “And I failed you,” he admitted quietly. “But I will not fail you again.”
The Emperor raised a trembling hand, motioning for Yuwen Yue to rise. “You did not fail me,” he said. “It is I who failed you. I could not protect the Yuwen family. I could not protect you. When you were gone… it felt as though I had lost a piece of myself.”
Yuwen Yue stood, his gaze unwavering. “Then let us not dwell on the past, Your Majesty. I am here now, and I will ensure that neither Wei nor the Yuwen name will fall again.”
The Emperor nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’ve grown into a man I am proud of, Yue’er. But you must promise me this—whatever power you wield, whatever victories you achieve, never lose yourself to the darkness. The Eyes of God are a gift, but they can consume those who forget their purpose.”
“I will not forget,” Yuwen Yue vowed. “I will wield the Eyes of God as a shield for Wei, not a weapon of ambition.”
The Emperor reached for his hand, their fingers clasping briefly in a gesture of unspoken trust. The silence that followed was not empty—it was filled with the quiet understanding between two men who had endured much and shared an unbreakable bond.
As Yuwen Yue prepared to leave, the Emperor’s voice halted him. “Yue’er,” he called softly, “there is one more thing.”
Yuwen Yue turned, waiting.
“When I am gone, remember this: Power is fleeting, but loyalty endures. You are the last of the Yuwen legacy. Guard it well, and guard Wei with your life.”
Yuwen Yue bowed deeply, his voice resolute. “I will, Your Majesty. Until my last breath.”
As he stepped out of the chamber, Yuwen Yue felt the weight of his duty settle fully upon him. The Emperor, frail and weary, had entrusted him with more than just a legacy—he had given him a purpose. And Yuwen Yue knew that he would honor that trust, no matter the cost.
Restoration of Yuwen Yue’s Name in the Elder Shrine
At the Yuwen household estate, the elder patriarch Yuwen Gao stood before the family shrine. The once-faded tablets of the Yuwen ancestors glimmered under the flickering light of lanterns, their inscriptions a testament to the family’s storied past. Beside him, Yuwen Yue knelt in reverence.
With a solemn expression, Yuwen Gao placed a new tablet in the shrine—one engraved with Yuwen Yue’s name. “The Yuwen household,” Yuwen Gao said, his voice thick with emotion, “has been tested by betrayal and loss. But today, we restore what was broken. Yuwen Yue, your name belongs among the honored elders, not as a shadow of the past, but as a beacon of hope for the future.”
The gathered elders of the household murmured their assent, their voices echoing through the shrine’s hall. As Yuwen Gao completed the ceremony, he turned to Yuwen Yue and added, “Your estate within the Yuwen household is also restored. It is time for this family to rise again—not as a force for power, but as a foundation for Wei’s strength.”
Yuwen Yue inclined his head, his voice low and respectful. “Thank you, Grandfather. I will honor our ancestors and ensure the Yuwen name stands for integrity and service.”
Rebuilding the Eyes of God
True to his word, Yuwen Yue began the arduous task of reconstructing the Eyes of God. He worked tirelessly, recruiting operatives from all corners of Wei—soldiers, scholars, and spies who shared his vision of loyalty and vigilance. Corruption was rooted out, and the organization’s structure was redefined to prevent the abuses of the past.
While Yuwen Yue remained at the helm of this transformation, he made it clear that his role was temporary. “The Eyes of God must not rely on a single leader,” he told his closest allies. “It must become a system that endures beyond one man’s lifetime.”
The restoration of Yuwen Yue’s status, the creation of his monument, and the rebuilding of the Eyes of God marked a turning point not only for him but also for the empire. The Emperor’s trust in Yuwen Yue, Yuwen Gao’s acknowledgment of his grandson’s honor, and the resurgence of the Yuwen household all signified a new era.
Though the weight of leadership remained heavy, Yuwen Yue embraced it with the same determination that had guided him through war and exile. He knew that his refusal to claim power immediately was not a rejection of duty, but a step toward a stronger, more unified future for Wei and its people.
The Silent Vanguard
Yuan Che strode into the imperial court, his expression as stormy as the dark skies outside. The hall fell silent as he approached the throne, his every step echoing against the marble floors. The Emperor, seated on his gilded seat, raised a hand to quiet the murmurs of the court officials.
“Speak, Yuan Che,” the Emperor commanded, his voice calm but tinged with unease.
Yuan Che dropped to his knees, his head bowed low. “Your Majesty,” he began, his voice steady but brimming with urgency, “I bring news that cannot wait. Yuan Yang has betrayed the empire.”
A collective gasp rippled through the court, but the Emperor’s expression remained unreadable. “Betrayal?” he asked, his tone carrying the weight of suspicion. “Be careful with your accusations, Yuan Che. You speak of a man who has served this empire well.”
“Served himself well, perhaps,” Yuan Che replied bitterly. He looked up, meeting the Emperor’s piercing gaze. “It was Yuan Yang who orchestrated the disappearance of the Crown Prince. He sent assassins to ensure he would never return to the throne, driving him into despair and forcing him to renounce his birthright. Our rightful heir now roams as a monk in some far-flung temple.”
The Emperor leaned forward, his face darkening. “Do you have proof of this heinous act?”
Yuan Che nodded. “I do, Your Majesty. Testimonies from his own men, intercepted correspondence, and movements of his forces during the time of the Crown Prince’s disappearance. He has played us all for fools.”
The Emperor clenched the arms of his throne, his voice trembling with controlled fury. “If what you say is true, Yuan Yang will answer for his crimes.”
But the court was already stirring with unrest. Some officials whispered doubts about Yuan Che’s motives, while others began to call for Yuan Yang’s immediate arrest.
The news reached Yuan Yang swiftly. In his private chambers, Yuan Yang dismissed his spy with a wave of his hand and turned to his closest advisor, a grim smile playing on his lips.
“So, Yuan Che has finally made his move,” Yuan Yang said. His tone was cold, calculated. “He’s bolder than I thought.”
“What shall we do, my lord?” the advisor asked nervously.
Yuan Yang rose, his presence commanding even in the intimate room. “What I’ve always done—stay one step ahead. If Yuan Che wants a war, I will give him one.”
Tensions erupted into open conflict when the Third Prince, caught in the intrigue, was captured by Yuan Yang’s forces. Yuan Che, infuriated by the audacity of the act, gathered his troops and marched against Yuan Yang, determined to rescue the prince and bring the traitor to justice.
On the battlefield, the clash was fierce and unrelenting. Yuan Che stood before his men, sword in hand, rallying them with fiery determination.
“Today,” he roared, “we fight not just for the honor of the imperial family, but for the soul of this empire! Yuan Yang’s treachery will not go unpunished!”
Meanwhile, on the opposite side, Yuan Yang addressed his own army. “Do not falter! The empire’s future lies with us, not in the hands of cowards and hypocrites! Crush Yuan Che and his pretensions of loyalty!”
The battle raged for days, with neither side willing to yield. Soldiers fought valiantly, their loyalty torn as the empire fractured under the weight of the conflict. In the midst of the chaos, the Emperor sat in his palace, burdened by the knowledge that his family’s ambition and betrayal had brought the empire to the brink of ruin.
As the dust settled on the first day of the war, both sides licked their wounds and prepared for another clash. But the question remained: would the empire survive this internal war, or would it crumble under the weight of vengeance and greed?
The Wei dynasty, once a beacon of unity and strength, descended into chaos as a grim civil war erupted within its own ranks. The conflict pitted Yuan Che, the righteous but unyielding Seventh Prince, against Yuan Yang, the cunning and ambitious Third Prince. What began as political maneuvering soon spiraled into an all-out war, fracturing the military government and threatening the empire’s very foundation.
The Prelude to War
The discord ignited when Yuan Yang, accused of orchestrating the Crown Prince’s disappearance, refused to yield to imperial inquiry and instead consolidated his military power. Yuan Che, enraged by Yuan Yang’s defiance and the capture of the Third Prince during the ensuing chaos, vowed to restore justice. As both princes mobilized their forces, the military government fractured. Generals and soldiers alike were forced to choose sides, their loyalties tested by family ties, personal ambitions, and fear.
Yuan Yang fortified himself in the capital’s western command, where his loyal generals controlled vast numbers of troops. Meanwhile, Yuan Che, bolstered by his reputation for honor and integrity, garnered the support of reformist governors and disillusioned soldiers from the provinces. The empire became a battlefield of intrigue and bloodshed.
War Unfolds
The war was a grim and unrelenting affair, marked by brutal sieges, scorched-earth tactics, and countless lives lost. Entire towns were razed as both sides sought to cripple the other’s supply lines. The clashing armies painted the fields crimson with blood, their banners flying above the carnage—a stark reminder of the fractured empire.
Yuan Che led his forces with fervor, his speeches rallying soldiers disillusioned by Yuan Yang’s corruption. “Brothers,” he cried before one decisive battle, his voice echoing across the encampment, “we do not fight for power or riches, but for justice, for honor, and for the future of the Wei dynasty! Let no man falter, for today, the empire watches us!”
On the other side, Yuan Yang’s calculated brilliance was on full display. He manipulated terrain and supply routes to his advantage, ensuring his forces could hold key positions. In one skirmish, he addressed his troops with cold determination. “We fight not against a man but against those who would see the empire crumble. Yuan Che is a fool blinded by self-righteousness. Victory is the only justice.”
The stalemate dragged on for months, with each side winning small victories but paying heavy prices. Civilians suffered the brunt of the devastation, their homes and fields turned into battlegrounds. Famine and disease began to spread, further deepening the empire’s woes.
The Great Summer Dilemma
Amid the turmoil, the Emperor secluded himself in the inner court, burdened by the knowledge that his sons’ ambitions were tearing his kingdom apart. Advisors pleaded with him to take action, but the Emperor hesitated. To choose one son over the other was to irrevocably alter the dynasty’s course—and potentially alienate half the empire.
Finally, after months of bloodshed, the Emperor issued an edict sealed with the imperial seal. The decree was unprecedented, an ultimatum that shocked even the most hardened courtiers. In it, the Emperor declared:
“The Wei dynasty shall not fall to the greed of its own blood. Yuan Che and Yuan Yang, sons of this empire, will lay down their arms and submit to the judgment of heaven. The one who continues this conflict shall be named a traitor to the throne, and the people of Wei shall rise against him. The throne will not tolerate ambition that consumes the land.”
The edict was dispatched by imperial couriers to both camps, bearing the Emperor’s unassailable seal. The document left no room for negotiation—one prince must surrender, or both would face the wrath of the empire.
Final Edict
The edict reached Yuan Che’s camp first. The Seventh Prince, torn between his duty to his family and his soldiers’ sacrifices, retreated to his tent for a night of contemplation. By dawn, he emerged resolute. “If I must die to save the empire,” he told his generals, “then so be it. The people deserve peace.”
Yuan Yang received the message with a mix of fury and dread. He stormed through his camp, berating his advisors. “The Emperor would dare choose this path? Does he not see that Yuan Che’s surrender is a ruse?” But even Yuan Yang could not deny the edict’s finality. With his forces weakened and the empire turning against him, he was forced to consider his next move carefully.
As the princes awaited the Emperor’s final summons to the imperial court, the empire held its breath. Would the edict bring peace, or had the Emperor simply delayed an inevitable reckoning? The fates of the two princes—and the Wei dynasty—hung in the balance.
The Surrender of Xiao Qi Camp
After months of fierce conflict, the war’s tide turned decisively in favor of Yuan Che when the Xiao Qi camp, Yuan Yang’s last stronghold, surrendered. Starved of supplies and surrounded on all sides, Yuan Yang’s forces had no choice but to lay down their arms. Yuan Che rode into the captured camp with an air of grim triumph. His banner flew high, and his troops entered with disciplined precision, a stark contrast to the exhausted remnants of Yuan Yang’s defeated army.
Yuan Yang, defiant even in defeat, stood unbowed before his younger brother. “You’ve won the battle, Yuan Che,” he said coldly, his voice steady despite the chaos around him. “But don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ve won the war.”
Yuan Che regarded him with a mix of disdain and pity. “This war should never have been,” he replied. “Your ambition has cost the empire dearly. And yet, it will not be me who decides your fate.”
With those words, Yuan Yang was shackled and escorted under heavy guard to the Celestial Garrison Prison, the most secure and infamous stronghold in the empire. The soldiers whispered as the gates slammed shut behind him. It was a bitter irony for the proud Third Prince to be confined within walls meant to hold only the most dangerous of criminals.
Punishment of the Third Prince of Wei
For ten days, Yuan Yang endured harsh punishment in the prison. His status as a prince did little to shield him from the consequences of his actions. Stripped of his luxurious robes and royal titles, he was treated as a common prisoner. The conditions were brutal: damp stone walls, meager rations, and interrogations that left even the iron-willed Third Prince weary.
Yet, through it all, Yuan Yang refused to break. When his jailers mocked him, he only smiled bitterly. “Do you think this will crush me?” he asked one day. “I am a prince of Wei. The will of a ruler is forged in suffering.”
Word of Yuan Yang’s imprisonment spread quickly across the empire, and public opinion was divided. Some called for his execution, while others, impressed by his resilience and defiance, began to see him as a martyr. Meanwhile, Yuan Che returned to the imperial court, expecting his victory to be rewarded with greater power.
Great Summer’s Strange Decision
The court convened in a tense assembly. Ministers and generals debated what should be done with Yuan Yang, whose betrayal had plunged the empire into chaos. Most assumed the Emperor would order his execution to prevent future rebellion. Yuan Che, standing proudly before the court, awaited his recognition as the empire’s savior and the rightful heir to the throne.
But the Emperor, sitting atop the Dragon Throne, shocked everyone with his decree.
“Yuan Yang,” the Emperor announced, his voice commanding and deliberate, “will be released from his imprisonment. He will not face death or exile. Instead, I name him the Crown Prince of Wei.”
The hall erupted in disbelief. Ministers whispered frantically, and even Yuan Che, ever composed, could not hide his astonishment. “Your Majesty,” he began cautiously, bowing low, “surely this decision warrants reconsideration. Yuan Yang’s actions have proven his unworthiness to rule.”
The Emperor silenced him with a raised hand. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, fixed on the Seventh Prince. “Yuan Che, your victories in this war are commendable, but the empire cannot be ruled by strength alone. Balance must be restored. Yuan Yang, despite his flaws, possesses the cunning and fortitude necessary to govern in turbulent times.”
The Emperor paused, letting his words sink in. “You, on the other hand, have shown an alarming hunger for power. It is my duty to prevent any one man from amassing unchecked authority. By crowning Yuan Yang, I ensure that balance is maintained and the throne remains strong.”
The court fell into stunned silence. Yuan Yang, summoned from his cell, stood before the Emperor as his sentence was pronounced. Though his face bore the marks of his punishment, his gaze was steady as he knelt to accept the imperial seal.
Yuan Che left the court that day with a heavy heart, his loyalty to the Emperor tested. While he pledged fealty to his father’s decision, resentment simmered beneath his calm exterior. His followers, embittered by the Emperor’s perceived slight, began murmuring of future rebellion.
Yuan Yang, now restored to power, carried the weight of his crown with a grim sense of purpose. Though his ascension was born of the Emperor’s political maneuvering rather than genuine merit, he resolved to prove himself worthy of the title. His first act as Crown Prince was to declare amnesty for the soldiers who had fought against him, a move that won him both praise and suspicion.
The empire, though temporarily pacified, remained on edge. The Emperor’s decision had averted immediate conflict, but it had also sown the seeds of future strife. Both princes, bound by blood yet divided by ambition, were now locked in a silent struggle for supremacy.
And the Emperor, burdened by the choices he had made, could only watch and hope that his gamble would secure the future of the Wei dynasty.
As the imperial court adapted to the uneasy balance of power under the new Crown Prince Yuan Yang, Yuwen Yue, a trusted comrade of Yuan Che, stood steadfastly by his side. Through the bitter days of war and the trials that followed, Yuwen Yue had proven himself a loyal confidant, offering wisdom and unwavering support when Yuan Che most needed it.
Yuwen Yue’s Role During the Military Civil War in Wei
Yuwen Yue was more than a companion to Yuan Che; he was a strategist, a shield, and a voice of reason. During the grim days of battle, it was Yuwen Yue who often tempered Yuan Che’s fiery resolve with calm logic. In one critical moment, when Yuan Che considered launching a reckless assault to reclaim the Third Prince, Yuwen Yue placed a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Rage clouds judgment, Your Highness,” he said, his tone steady but laden with concern. “Victory is not achieved by passion alone. Let us strike when the time is right, not when our hearts burn hottest.”
Yuwen Yue’s tactical mind and measured counsel saved Yuan Che from costly mistakes, and his presence bolstered the Seventh Prince’s morale when the weight of war seemed unbearable. Their bond was one forged not just in battle but in mutual trust and understanding.
However, under the new regime, the camaraderie between Yuwen Yue and Yuan Che faced its greatest test. With Yuan Yang crowned as the Crown Prince and consolidating power, the political climate in the Wei dynasty grew tense. Yuan Yang, wary of Yuan Che’s lingering influence and the loyalty of his supporters, began systematically weakening those who had stood with his rival.
Yuwen Yue, once a celebrated figure for his contributions to the war, now found himself under scrutiny. Despite his neutrality in court politics, his close ties to Yuan Che marked him as a potential threat. Whispers in the imperial court hinted at Yuan Yang’s growing paranoia, with some suggesting that he might eliminate Yuan Che’s allies to secure his reign.
One evening, as the autumn winds howled through the Seventh Prince’s estate, Yuwen Yue found Yuan Che sitting alone in his study, gazing at the flickering light of an oil lamp. The prince’s usual determination seemed clouded by doubt.
“You look troubled, my friend,” Yuwen Yue said, taking a seat across from him.
Yuan Che let out a weary sigh. “How can I not be? The Emperor’s health wanes with each passing day, and when he is gone, what becomes of us? Of you? Yuan Yang’s crown is already heavy with suspicion.”
Yuwen Yue leaned forward, his expression calm but serious. “Then we prepare for what may come. I will stand by you as I always have, but you must tread carefully. The Crown Prince is not a man to be provoked lightly. Patience may yet be your greatest weapon.”
Great Summer’s Decline
As the Emperor’s health deteriorated, the uncertainty hanging over Yuan Che and Yuwen Yue deepened. The Crown Prince began consolidating his power in anticipation of his ascension, and the court grew increasingly divided. Yuan Che, aware that his presence in the capital made him a target, considered retreating to the provinces, where he could gather his loyalists and bide his time.
Yuwen Yue, ever the pragmatist, counseled restraint. “If you leave now,” he warned, “it will be seen as an act of defiance. Yuan Yang will use it as a pretext to brand you a traitor. Stay, and let him make the first move.”
Despite Yuwen Yue’s sound advice, both men knew that their fates were precariously intertwined. Should Yuan Yang view Yuwen Yue as a threat, his loyalty to Yuan Che could cost him everything. Conversely, if Yuan Che were to act rashly, he risked not only his own life but that of his closest ally.
As the Emperor’s final days drew near, the tension between the two factions reached a breaking point. Yuwen Yue, though steadfast in his loyalty, began to sense the shifting tides of power. In a private moment, he confided in Yuan Che, his voice heavy with foreboding.
“When the Emperor passes,” he said, “we may find ourselves at the mercy of a man who trusts no one. My loyalty is yours, but if it comes to choosing between survival and honor, we must both be prepared for the consequences.”
Yuan Che nodded solemnly, gripping Yuwen Yue’s arm. “Whatever happens, you have been more than a friend to me, Yuwen Yue. You have been my brother in all but blood. If the fates separate us, know that my gratitude is eternal.”
With the Emperor’s death imminent, the Wei dynasty stood on the brink of yet another storm. The bond between Yuwen Yue and Yuan Che, though unbreakable, would be tested in ways neither could yet imagine. As the imperial court awaited the inevitable shift in power, the two comrades braced themselves for the trials to come, their future cloaked in uncertainty.
The Reunion: Former Crown Prince and Former Imperial Concubine of The Great Summer Throne
Xiao Ba had remained hidden, presumed dead in Wei, retreating into the quiet safety of her secluded life. Ra Zheng, deeply in love with her since their youth, sought her out in the shadows. His proposal was soft but resolute, and they secretly wed under the veil of anonymity. Although married, Xiao Ba maintained her silence in the public eye, allowing Ra Zheng to appear as a single bachelor in the limelight.
One evening, as Xiao Ba sat by the window of their modest mountain home, she gazed out across the twilight landscape, her thoughts drifting to memories of the past. Her reverie was interrupted by a visitor—Yuan Song, the former Crown Prince of Wei. He stood at the threshold, his regal bearing softened by the weariness of his journey. He carried gifts and peace offerings, having learned of Xiao Ba’s secret marriage through Meng Feng, who had made a perilous journey through the Woolong Mountains to inform him.
Yuan Song’s voice was calm, though tinged with regret as he addressed Xiao Ba. “Xiao Ba… I came as soon as I heard. Meng Feng told me everything. I couldn’t rest until I saw you for myself. These gifts, though humble, are my way of seeking peace for the pain of the past.”
Xiao Ba hesitated but eventually spoke, her voice quiet and steady. “Yuan Song, your gesture is kind, but there is no need for such offerings. The past is behind us, and I’ve found my place now. You don’t need to burden yourself with regrets.”
For a moment, Yuan Song stood in silence, his gaze fixed on Xiao Ba as though searching for something long lost.
“I have carried this burden for years. I thought I could forget, but seeing you again…” He paused, his voice faltering. “I must ask for your forgiveness—for the things I could not give you when you deserved them most.”
Xiao Ba’s expression softened, and she stepped closer. “I forgave you long ago, Yuan Song. Life is not always what we expect, but it has brought me to where I belong.”
Ra Zheng appeared at the doorway, his presence calm but firm. His gaze met Yuan Song’s with understanding, not hostility. “Yuan Song, you were an important part of Xiao Ba’s life. I understand the weight of what you carry, but she is my life now, and I will do everything to protect her peace. You are welcome here, but only as a friend of the past.”
Yuan Song nodded, his royal demeanor returning as he straightened. “You are a fortunate man, Ra Zheng. I hope you cherish her as she deserves. Farewell, Xiao Ba. Live well.”
After leaving Xiao Ba’s home, Yuan Song turned to his trusted aide, Ping’an. “Saddle the horses. We leave at dawn. There is no point in lingering here any longer.”
Ping’an hesitated, sensing the weight of his prince’s emotions. “Your Highness, is this truly how you wish to leave things?”
Yuan Song looked out toward the horizon, his voice firm but laced with sadness. “It is not my place to interfere in her happiness. Let them have the life they deserve. I have bestowed my blessings, and my time has passed.”
As Yuan Song departed, Ra Zheng returned to Xiao Ba’s side. He took her hand gently in his, his voice warm and reassuring. “I know his visit stirred old memories, but you don’t have to carry them anymore. You’re here, with me, and that’s all that matters now.”
Xiao Ba smiled, her fingers tightening around his. “Thank you for understanding, Ra Zheng. You’ve always been my safe harbor, even when the seas were stormy. I’m grateful to have you.”
Ra Zheng brushed a strand of hair from her face, his tone lightening. “Well, I’ve waited long enough for you, haven’t I? I think it’s time we focus on building a life worth all that waiting.”
Together, they turned toward the future, leaving the shadows of their past behind. Ra Zheng, ever the devoted lover, chose to move ahead with his childhood sweetheart, determined to give her the happiness she had long been denied.
Yan Xun’s Reflection on Freedom, Regret, and Isolation
Yan Xun reflected on the freedom and community nurtured by Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue, but remained detached from their ideals. Disillusioned by the weight of his own decisions, he found himself burdened by the hollow trappings of his rule in Yanbei. Amid the cold expanse of the Northland, Yanbei’s once-passionate king isolated himself in luxury and decadence, seeking solace in fleeting pleasures within the harem.
Meanwhile, Chu Qiao’s enduring commitment to justice and redemption was showcased as she freed Xiao Yu from captivity, offering her not only physical freedom but also the means to reclaim her life. Chu Qiao’s gifts—a cure for Xiao Yu’s addiction to the Dengxian Pill and Yuwen Yue’s final letter—served as tokens of closure and peace, bridging fractured relationships and symbolizing hope for new beginnings.
Snow blanketed the barren plains of Yanbei, a stark reminder of the cold isolation that mirrored Yan Xun’s heart. The once-revered King of Yanbei stood atop the Nada Palace balcony, his gaze vacant as it stretched over the frosted horizon. The wind howled through the palace’s corridors, its haunting wails matching the silence that had taken root within its grand halls. Once a symbol of hope and rebellion, the palace now resembled a ghostly monument to faded dreams, meticulously maintained yet devoid of life.
Yan Xun sighed deeply, his breath clouding in the freezing air. Memories of Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue stirred in his mind. Their ideals, their community—a society built on the promise of freedom and equality—seemed like distant stars, shining brightly but unreachable. Once, he had dismissed their vision as naive, even foolish. Now, he felt no need to meddle in their efforts, nor did he harbor any curiosity to understand it further. It was their dream, not his. His had been consumed by the unrelenting hunger for revenge, leaving only a hollow shell in its place.
The silence of the harem was deafening once the women had gone, their laughter and whispers fading like fleeting shadows into the dark corridors of Nada Palace. Yan Xun sat motionless on the edge of a vast bed draped in silks and gold, his regal robes pooling around him. The room was warm, the hearth’s flames casting a golden glow that danced on the walls, yet he felt colder than the frozen plains beyond the palace gates.
The goblet in his hand had long since emptied, its taste forgotten. His fingers tightened around its stem as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed under the weight of a thousand unspoken words. He would not utter her name in the presence of others. To do so would be to admit that he still thought of her, that her memory lingered like a wound that refused to heal. He could not bear to hear the name spoken back to him, heavy with the judgment or pity of those who served him.
And yet, when the room was empty and the hours stretched long into the night, her name was all he had. “Chu Qiao…” The sound escaped his lips like a sigh, a breath stolen by the weight of regret. It was not loud, not meant to be heard by anyone—not even himself. But in that moment, it was the most honest thing he had said in years.
Her name carried a gravity that pulled him back into the past, to moments when his heart was lighter and his dreams clearer. He saw her face in the flickering firelight—her sharp eyes brimming with determination, her lips set in a line of quiet resolve. She had been a force of nature, unstoppable and untamable. He had loved her strength as much as it had terrified him. And in the end, he had been too weak to stand beside her, too consumed by his thirst for vengeance to grasp the kind of love she had deserved.
His hand trembled as he set the goblet aside, his mind spiraling deeper into memories he had long tried to suppress. He could still hear her voice, fierce and unyielding, cutting through the chaos of the battlefield. She had called him out for his cruelty, for his blind pursuit of power, and yet she had once believed in him. That belief was what haunted him most. He had betrayed it, tarnished it with every selfish decision, until her trust in him was no more than a shattered relic.
“You were right,” he muttered into the stillness, his voice thick with bitterness. “You were always right.”
The fire crackled, and for a fleeting moment, he imagined her standing before him again, her arms crossed, her eyes blazing. She would tell him he was a fool, that he had squandered everything they could have been for a kingdom built on pain and ashes. And he would agree, if only she were there to hear it.
But she wasn’t. She never would be. He had driven her away, and in doing so, he had ensured that he would never see the light of her again.
The room grew colder as the fire burned low, yet he stayed awake, staring into the dying embers. The ghost of her memory lingered there, as it always did, refusing to let him rest.
In the solitude of the harem’s chambers, the king confided only in himself. He would not speak of her to anyone, for to name her aloud would be to admit the depth of his failure. His heart had become a fortress of ice, yet the flame of her memory continued to burn, threatening to melt the walls he had so carefully constructed.
As the night deepened, the concubines retreated one by one, their absence unnoticed by the king. Alone now, he whispered her name, the sound barely audible above the crackle of the hearth. “Chu Qiao…”
It was not a plea, nor a prayer—it was the ghost of a man’s broken heart, echoing into the endless winter night.
Queens of Destinies
The grove was quiet, the only sound the soft rustling of leaves in the crisp breeze. Chu Qiao stood before Xiao Yu, her calm demeanor masking the intensity of the moment. The two women faced each other, the weight of their shared history hanging in the air. This was not a meeting of enemies, but one of resolution and parting.
Chu Qiao reached into the pouch at her side and withdrew a small, intricately carved vial. The glass gleamed faintly in the muted light, its contents a pale golden liquid that shimmered with an almost ethereal glow.
“This,” Chu Qiao said, holding the vial out to Xiao Yu, “is the antidote to the Dengxian Pill. It will take time, but it will free you from its hold.”
Xiao Yu’s eyes widened in surprise as she looked at the vial, her hands hesitating before taking it. She had lived under the shadow of the addiction for so long that the idea of release seemed foreign, almost unreachable. “You… you found this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Chu Qiao nodded, her gaze steady. “I discovered it during my short alliance with Zhan Ziyu. He had secrets, and I uncovered this among them. I brought it for you as a parting gift.”
Xiao Yu clutched the vial to her chest, her fingers trembling. The addiction had been her cage, a chain that bound her even when her body roamed free. And now, with this simple act, Chu Qiao was offering her the chance to break those chains and reclaim a life she thought was lost.
“Why would you do this for me?” Xiao Yu asked, her voice breaking. “After everything… why?”
“Because,” Chu Qiao said, her tone soft but firm, “everyone deserves a second chance. This isn’t about the past—it’s about what comes next.”
Chu Qiao reached into her pouch again, this time retrieving a folded piece of paper. The edges were worn, as though it had been carried for a long time. She held it out to Xiao Yu.
“This is from Yuwen Yue,” she said quietly. “His last letter.”
Xiao Yu’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the letter, her eyes filling with a mixture of confusion and emotion. Slowly, she took it from Chu Qiao’s hands, her fingers brushing over the delicate paper as though it might crumble under her touch.
“What… what does it say?” Xiao Yu asked, her voice trembling.
Chu Qiao shook her head. “That’s for you to discover. But it is a token of peace. A way to close old wounds, to mend what little we can of the lives we’ve shattered.”
Xiao Yu pressed the letter to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. The weight of her past mistakes, struggles, and regrets bore down on her, but in this moment, she also felt a flicker of hope. Chu Qiao, the woman who had once been her rival, was now offering her not just freedom, but a chance at redemption.
The two women stood in silence for a long moment, the tension between them replaced by a fragile understanding. Finally, Xiao Yu spoke, her voice steady despite the tears streaking her face.
“Thank you,” she said, her words carrying a sincerity that Chu Qiao had not expected. “I don’t know if I deserve this kindness, but I will not waste it.”
Chu Qiao nodded, a small smile touching her lips. “It’s not about deserving, Xiao Yu. It’s about what you do with the chance you’re given.”
As Xiao Yu turned to leave, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder. “Chu Qiao,” she said, her voice filled with quiet strength. “I will always remember this moment. Not as an end, but as a beginning.”
Chu Qiao watched her walk away, the antidote and letter clutched tightly in her hands. For all the battles she had fought, this act of redemption felt like one of the most important victories of her life. As Xiao Yu’s figure disappeared into the distance, Chu Qiao turned back to the path ahead, her heart lighter, her resolve stronger.
Yuwen Yue’s Final Letter to Li Jian
To Li Jian, Princess of Liang, and Xiao Yu, Queen of Yanbei,
Your king, Yan Xun, lives because of sacrifices made by others—sacrifices that often went unnoticed yet were no less profound. When he stood on the precipice of death, it was not vengeance that stayed my hand, but a belief in something greater: that Yanbei deserved its leader, its chance to rebuild and rise again. My blade could have ended him, but instead, I chose to let him go, ensuring he would live to return to you.
Yet, I was not alone in this decision. The truth is, it was Chu Qiao who carried the weight of his survival and his freedom. Her strength, her unshakable resolve, and her unwavering sense of justice were the foundations of his return to Yanbei. She fought not just for Yan Xun, but for a dream larger than any single person. She acted when others faltered, and it is her courage that ensured your king’s path back home.
Ajing and Douji—precious lives caught in the tide of chaos—were also spared because of her efforts. While the world around them demanded cruelty, she chose mercy. She made certain that the innocents who could have been lost in the storm were kept safe, untouched by the darkness that consumes so many in our conflicts. These lives were preserved not out of obligation, but because of the goodness that remains in her heart, even in a world that so often seeks to destroy it.
I tell you this not to wound or to stir conflict in your heart but because the truth deserves to be known. Without her, Yan Xun may not have returned to you, and the future you now hold in your hands could have been a very different one. Whatever history lies between you and Chu Qiao, I ask you to consider this: gratitude is not weakness, and acknowledging the sacrifices of others—even those we may call rivals—does not diminish who we are. It strengthens us.
I know you have endured your own battles, that you have sacrificed and fought for the life you hold now. I do not seek to diminish your pain or your struggle. But in the world we share, there is little room for hatred when there is so much already lost. In sparing lives, in protecting the innocent, Chu Qiao did what few have the strength to do: she chose the harder path, the one of mercy, even when it demanded everything of her.
When you look at Yan Xun, remember not only the man who returned to you, but the many lives that made his survival possible. And when you think of Chu Qiao, I hope you will see not just a rival, but a woman who gave all she could to preserve what mattered most.
I do not ask for reconciliation. I do not ask for a bond that may never form. I only ask for understanding. Gratitude does not change the past, but it may shape the future.
Farewell,
Yuwen Yue
A Love That Could Never Be
The air in Nada Palace was heavy, the tension palpable as Yan Xun stood before Xiao Yu in their shared chambers. The grand room, adorned with the finest Yanbei silks and treasures, felt stiflingly small as the king struggled to find the right words. His hands, so steady in battle, trembled as he faced the woman who had given him everything—and to whom he could give nothing in return.
“Xiao Yu,” he began, his voice low, almost hesitant. “I cannot lie to you any longer. I cannot pretend any longer. This life we share… it is a life built on duty, not love.”
Xiao Yu looked up from her seat by the brazier, her hands resting lightly on her lap. Her face, once radiant with youthful hope, now bore the quiet dignity of someone who had endured heartbreak too many times. She did not interrupt him, her calmness unnerving.
“I am proposing a divorce,” he said, his tone heavier, each word weighed down with guilt. “You deserve freedom. A chance to live a life unburdened by my past, by my failures. I cannot give you what you deserve.”
For a long moment, Xiao Yu was silent, the crackling of the fire filling the room. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady, yet devoid of the fire she once carried. “Let it be done, my Lord,” she said simply, her gaze meeting his. “I no longer wish to intervene or steal the fate that belongs to you. What you choose to do is no longer mine to question.”
Her words hung in the air, and Yan Xun felt their finality. Yet, beneath her composure, he could sense the deep wounds she carried, wounds he had inflicted, knowingly or not.
Xiao Yu’s mind drifted back to the beginning, to the day she became Yan Xun’s bride. She had loved him then, deeply and without reserve. In her heart, she had believed that her devotion and patience would one day thaw the ice encasing his heart. She had given him everything—her loyalty, her affection, her body—but it had never been enough to reach the part of him that still yearned for someone else.
She had known, even as she stood by his side as his queen, that her presence was a shadow of the woman who haunted him: Chu Qiao, or A Chu, as he sometimes whispered in his sleep. Xiao Yu had tried to bury the bitterness, to suppress the gnawing ache of jealousy, but it always lingered. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she could never replace the woman who had once fought beside him and still ruled his heart.
And then there was the deeper guilt, the one she could never escape. She was the daughter of Shen Jin Gong, the force that had brought ruin to Yan Xun’s family, exterminated the Yan royal line, and driven him to a life of vengeance. She had tried to reconcile her love for him with the pain her lineage had caused him, but it was a wound that could never fully heal.
In the end, she realized that the true enemy was not Chu Qiao, nor even her own past—it was the void in Yan Xun’s heart. A void she could never fill.
As Yan Xun stood before her, guilt and sorrow etched into his face, Xiao Yu rose gracefully from her seat. She approached him slowly, her every step measured, and stopped just before him. Her eyes, filled with quiet resolve, met his.
“Yan Xun,” she said softly, “I know that I could never replace her. I never tried to, not truly. But I loved you in my own way, even when I knew that love would never be returned. And though it pains me, I do not regret being with you. Not for a single moment.”
Her voice trembled slightly as she continued. “I offer you my life, my Lord. Take it if it will ease your burden. Let me die as your Queen of Yanbei. Call it selfish if you wish, but this is who I am. My only regret is that I could not be the person you needed.”
Yan Xun stared at her, struck by the weight of her words. Her strength, even now, when their relationship had crumbled to ashes, moved him in ways he could not explain. Yet, her offer only deepened the ache in his chest.
“You don’t deserve to die for me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You deserve more than I ever gave you.”
Xiao Yu smiled faintly, a sadness behind her expression. “Perhaps. But the truth is, this life, this title—it is all I have now. Let me keep it, even if it means nothing to you. I do not ask for your love, only for the honor of standing by you until the end.”
The firelight flickered between them, casting shadows on the walls that seemed to mirror the ghosts of their shared past. For a moment, Yan Xun thought of refusing her, of insisting that she take her freedom and leave Yanbei to find a life beyond its frozen walls. But as he looked into her eyes, he saw a woman who had already made peace with her fate. She had chosen this path, just as he had chosen his.
“Very well,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with resignation. “You may remain as my Queen. But I hope you find the peace I never could.”
Xiao Yu lowered her gaze, her hands clasped in front of her. “I hope you do as well, my Lord.”
She turned and walked away, her silhouette framed by the golden glow of the fire. For the first time in years, Yan Xun felt the full weight of her love—not as a burden, but as a reminder of what he had lost in his pursuit of revenge. He had broken not only his own heart but the hearts of those who had dared to love him.
As the door closed behind her, Yan Xun sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The Queen of Yanbei had spoken her truth, and though she remained by his side, he knew that they were forever apart. The fire burned low, its embers fading into ash, as the king sat alone in his chamber, haunted by the past and the shadows of what might have been.
Seahorse Blade
The Black Sun Pirates, led by a shadowy figure known only as the “Seahorse Blade,” had a reputation for brutality and cunning. Their raids targeted trade caravans, looting supplies and spreading terror across the region. For months, the Freedom Community suffered under their threat, their movements hindered by the fear of ambush.
Despite the danger, the community found hope in its defenders, including the Xuili Army and its renowned Beauty Army led by General He Xiao. The battalion was famed not only for its combat prowess but also for its unorthodox strategies that confounded even the most seasoned enemies. He Xiao’s leadership and the battalion’s vigilance ensured that the Freedom Community remained resilient against the pirates’ incursions.
Qinghai’s Naval Supremacy
Yuwen Yue’s naval forces, a cornerstone of Qinghai’s military might, were renowned across the empire for their discipline, innovation, and precision. Built under his watchful eye, these forces were more than just a military asset—they were a testament to his strategic brilliance and forward-thinking leadership. Even as Yuwen Yue sought peace in the Freedom Community, the legacy and strength of his naval forces loomed as a vital factor in the power dynamics of the region.
Qinghai, blessed with an expansive coastline and interconnected rivers, had always understood the significance of maritime power. However, under the visionary leadership of Yuwen Yue, its navy was elevated to an elite force that commanded respect and fear across the region. Yuwen Yue’s strategic brilliance reshaped the Qinghai naval forces, blending advanced shipbuilding, cutting-edge weaponry, and rigorous training to create a fleet unrivaled in both strength and innovation.
The Qinghai navy boasted a diverse composition, each vessel crafted with a specific purpose in mind. The warships, massive vessels with reinforced hulls and formidable battering rams, were built for open-sea combat. Their imposing size and firepower made them the backbone of the fleet. Complementing these were the fast attack boats—smaller, agile crafts designed for reconnaissance, quick strikes, and ambushes. Swift and maneuverable, these boats could navigate shallow rivers and deliver precision attacks. Logistical ships completed the fleet, ensuring the transport of essential supplies, reinforcements, and provisions, enabling the navy to maintain operational endurance during prolonged campaigns.
Innovation was the hallmark of Yuwen Yue’s leadership. Under his command, the navy adopted cutting-edge technologies, such as ballistae and flamethrowers mounted on ships, giving them a decisive edge in both ranged and close combat. These advancements allowed Qinghai’s vessels to dominate in confrontations, whether on turbulent seas or narrow river passages. The integration of signal flags and lantern systems revolutionized communication within the fleet, ensuring precise coordination during battles. This innovation transformed the navy into a cohesive force capable of executing complex maneuvers with unparalleled efficiency.
Yuwen Yue’s focus on training was no less rigorous. Naval soldiers underwent exhaustive preparation, learning navigation, ship maintenance, and combat skills. Training drills simulated real combat scenarios, pushing sailors to adapt quickly to unexpected challenges. Yuwen Yue emphasized flexibility, ensuring his crews could operate effectively in any environment, from the vast open seas to the treacherous twists of river channels. This adaptability, combined with their unwavering discipline, made the Qinghai navy a force to be reckoned with.
Under Yuwen Yue’s stewardship, the Qinghai navy became not only a shield for the region but also a symbol of its resilience and ambition. It safeguarded trade routes, protected the coastline from marauding forces, and projected Qinghai’s power far beyond its borders. This naval supremacy solidified Yuwen Yue’s reputation as a leader of unparalleled vision, securing Qinghai’s place as a dominant force in the empire.
Qinghai’s naval dominance was not merely a display of military might; it was a cornerstone of the region’s stability, prosperity, and influence. Yuwen Yue’s navy, meticulously built and maintained, wielded a power that extended far beyond its shores, shaping the political and economic landscape of the empire.
The Qinghai navy served as the first line of defense against external threats. Its warships patrolled the coastline and protected vital trade routes, thwarting attempts by rival factions and marauding forces, including the dreaded Black Sun Pirates, who terrorized the region’s waters. Coastal fortifications, strategically aligned with naval patrols, created an impenetrable barrier against invasions. The synergy between land and sea defenses ensured Qinghai’s security, fostering an era of relative peace for its people. It looked like they were Pirates at first hand but sent signals of friendship afterward. Is Yuwen Yue taking the Eyes of God intelligence in the seas?
Beyond Military Might
Beyond its military role, the navy was the backbone of Qinghai’s economic prosperity. Merchant vessels sailing under its protection traversed safely through treacherous waterways, allowing the region’s trade to flourish. This secure maritime environment encouraged commerce and bolstered Qinghai’s reputation as a reliable trading hub. By asserting control over key waterways, the navy enabled Qinghai to exert influence over neighboring territories, securing favorable trade agreements and enhancing its economic clout.
The navy’s unparalleled strength granted Yuwen Yue significant political leverage. Its mere existence was enough to deter aggression from rival factions within the imperial court. Diplomats negotiating with Qinghai often did so with the knowledge that opposing Yuwen Yue meant facing a fleet that could blockade rivers, disrupt supply lines, and dominate the seas. Even within the empire, the navy was seen as a force to respect—and fear—further solidifying Yuwen Yue’s influence.
Though Yuwen Yue temporarily stepped away from his duties to live a simpler life with Chu Qiao in the Freedom Community, the Qinghai navy remained a vigilant and loyal force. Its presence ensured that Qinghai’s borders and interests were protected, even in his absence.
Admiral Zhao, a trusted and capable subordinate, assumed command of naval operations during Yuwen Yue’s hiatus. Under his leadership, the navy upheld the same discipline and rigor that Yuwen Yue had instilled. Patrols continued to secure Qinghai’s waters, ensuring the safety of its people and the integrity of its trade routes.
Despite his absence, the navy’s officers remained deeply loyal to Yuwen Yue. Periodically, envoys were dispatched to the Freedom Community, bringing updates on the state of Qinghai and requesting his return. These visits underscored the navy’s dependence on his leadership and strategic insight. Although Yuwen Yue was resolute in his decision to remain with Chu Qiao, these messages served as a reminder of the responsibilities awaiting him in Qinghai.
Even while Yuwen Yue lived a life of simplicity, the Qinghai navy stood as a testament to his enduring legacy. It symbolized his strategic brilliance and unwavering commitment to Qinghai’s strength and prosperity. As the tides of power shifted within the empire, the navy remained a force that could shape the future, waiting for the day when its leader would return to guide it once more.
Intelligence on the Seas
The revelation that the Eyes of God might be influencing events on the seas raised an even graver question: could Yuwen Yue turn this to his advantage? Known for his ability to bend adversaries to his will, he began to consider whether the Black Sun Pirates and their shadowy backers could be brought into Qinghai’s fold. If their allegiance could be secured—or their power neutralized—their influence might be wielded to bolster Qinghai’s naval dominance.
Yuwen Yue’s strategy was one of careful balance. The Qinghai navy continued to assert its strength, sending a clear message that Qinghai would not be intimidated. At the same time, emissaries conveyed subtle overtures of mutual interest, leaving the door open for cooperation. It was a delicate dance between power and diplomacy, one that Yuwen Yue was uniquely suited to navigate.
The Qinghai navy’s advanced communication systems and covert operations had been refined for just such contingencies. Using signal lanterns, encrypted messages, and reconnaissance missions, the navy began to gather intelligence on the pirates’ alliances and intentions. Yuwen Yue personally oversaw these efforts, relying on his deep understanding of the Eyes of God’s tactics.
As the pieces fell into place, a troubling picture began to emerge. The pirates’ shift from aggression to diplomacy was not random; it was deliberate. They were probing Qinghai’s defenses, testing its resolve, and perhaps even laying the groundwork for deeper infiltration. Yet, despite their efforts, Yuwen Yue remained one step ahead. His network of spies and informants within the Freedom Community provided vital intelligence, allowing him to anticipate moves and counter threats before they materialized.
Whether the Eyes of God would succeed in their plans, or if Yuwen Yue would manage to co-opt their influence, remained an open question. What was clear, however, was that the seas had become a new battleground for control and intelligence. For Yuwen Yue, it was not merely about defending Qinghai’s borders—it was about shaping the balance of power within the empire itself.
As Qinghai’s warships continued their patrols, casting long shadows over the waves, Yuwen Yue’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon. For now, the Black Sun Pirates and the Eyes of God were but ripples in the grander scheme. Yet, in the world of shadows and intrigue, even the smallest ripple could grow into a storm. Yuwen Yue knew this better than anyone, and he would ensure that Qinghai was prepared for whatever came next.
The Hut by the Edge of the Woods
Nestled on the outskirts of the Freedom Community, Chu Qiao and Ra Yue had built a life that was both modest and idyllic. Their home, a humble hut crafted with their own hands, stood as a testament to their shared desire to escape the chaos and intrigue of their past. Surrounded by the warmth of nature and the quiet camaraderie of like-minded souls, they found the peace they had long yearned for.
Their hut was situated at the edge of a lush, forested area, where towering trees filled the air with fresh, clean scents. It was a small structure, with walls made of mud and straw, reinforced by sturdy wooden beams that Ra Yue had cut and shaped himself. The thatched roof, made from dried reeds, gave the home a rustic yet charming appearance.
Inside, the space was cozy and practical, reflecting their simple lifestyle. A single room served as both living and sleeping quarters, furnished with handmade wooden furniture. A low table sat in the center, surrounded by cushions, where they shared meals and conversation. Shelves lined one wall, holding items they had gathered: simple pottery, a few books Ra Yue cherished, and baskets woven by Chu Qiao.
Near the entrance, a small clay hearth provided warmth on cool evenings and served as their kitchen. The scent of wood smoke often mingled with the aroma of herbs and freshly brewed tea, creating an atmosphere of comfort and serenity. Outside, Ra Yue cultivated a small garden where they grew vegetables and medicinal plants. Beside it, Chu Qiao had crafted a trellis where climbing vines and wildflowers added a touch of beauty to their home.
Life in the Freedom Community was unhurried, a stark contrast to the lives they had left behind. Every morning, they rose with the first light of dawn. Ra Yue would stoke the hearth and brew tea while Chu Qiao fetched water from the nearby stream. They shared their morning tea on the small porch of their hut, watching the sunrise paint the valley in hues of gold and crimson.
Their days were filled with simple, satisfying tasks. Ra Yue, who had once strategized battles and governed provinces, now found fulfillment in tending their garden and repairing tools. His once-soft hands bore calluses from hard labor, a transformation he accepted with quiet pride. Chu Qiao, a warrior who had known only struggle and survival, found joy in weaving baskets and sewing clothes for the people of the community.
The Freedom Community was a sanctuary for those seeking redemption or a fresh start, and it attracted a diverse group of residents. Among them were reformed spies, former assassins, and soldiers who had grown weary of war. These individuals, once living in the shadows, now sought to contribute to a peaceful society.
Chu Qiao and Ra Yue quickly became beloved members of the community. Chu Qiao’s natural leadership and kind demeanor endeared her to the residents, who often sought her advice or help. She taught the children how to navigate the woods safely and shared her knowledge of herbs and survival skills with anyone who asked.
Ra Yue, though quieter, earned respect through his humility and willingness to help. He often lent his strength to rebuilding efforts, from repairing damaged homes to constructing irrigation channels for the community’s fields. Despite his noble upbringing, he never hesitated to get his hands dirty, earning the admiration of those around him.
One of their closest bonds was with a group of reformed spies and assassins who had sought refuge in the community. Though their pasts were steeped in darkness, these individuals found new purpose under the guidance of Chu Qiao and Ra Yue. Together, they worked to protect the Freedom Community from external threats, including the persistent raids of the Black Sun Pirates. The spies, once masters of deceit, now served as the community’s eyes and ears, ensuring its safety.
Some Random Visits and Celestial Stirs
Their peaceful existence was occasionally interrupted by visits from old Ce, the playful and charming prince of Liang, who appeared unannounced one afternoon, his arrival heralded by his boisterous laughter. He teased Ra Yue mercilessly about his “retirement” and marveled at Chu Qiao’s newfound domesticity. Over a pot of tea, Xiao Ce’s wit and humor filled their home with laughter, though his visit also reminded them of the political currents still swirling beyond their haven.
At times, messengers from Qinghai would find their way to Ra Yue, urging him to return. Though he remained steadfast in his decision to stay, their presence was a constant reminder of the responsibilities he had left behind. The Eyes of God, ever-watchful, occasionally sent spies to observe them, but Chu Qiao and Ra Yue had grown adept at recognizing their movements and evading their scrutiny.
In the Freedom Community, Chu Qiao and Ra Yue found a peace they had never known before, but it was a peace tempered by the knowledge that it might not last. Their simple life, though fleeting, became a source of strength and renewal. Together, they rebuilt not just a home, but their spirits, proving that even in the aftermath of chaos, love and hope could flourish.
Their hut, modest yet filled with memories, became a symbol of their journey—a place where two souls, weary from the weight of the world, could find refuge in each other and in the simplicity of life.
Amid their simple life in the Freedom Community, Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue shared countless tender moments that brought them closer together. In the evenings, after a day of hard work, they often sat under the stars, sipping tea brewed from the fragrant herbs Chu Qiao had gathered. Their conversations flowed easily, shifting between playful banter and deep discussions about their hopes and fears for the future. These moments of quiet connection became the foundation of their bond—a respite from the tumult of their past lives.
Their partnership extended to their daily tasks, where shared work became an opportunity for joy. Yuwen Yue, with his precise and methodical nature, took great pride in teaching Chu Qiao how to craft wooden tools, while she, with her deft hands and creativity, introduced him to the art of weaving. These tasks, simple as they were, became occasions for laughter and lighthearted teasing, transforming the mundane into something meaningful and memorable.
On rare afternoons when their chores were light, they ventured into the woods together, following trails that meandered through towering trees and sun-dappled clearings. These walks, filled with wonder at the beauty of their surroundings, reminded them of the freedom they now cherished—a freedom they had fought so hard to find. They found solace in nature’s embrace, where their worries seemed to melt away with the rustling leaves and gentle breeze.
As the days turned to months, the Freedom Community thrived beneath skies painted with hues of hope and resilience. The vast expanse of the seas, shimmering under the golden sun by day and reflecting the starlit heavens by night, seemed to whisper promises of endless possibilities. The little hut where Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue stayed stood as a testament to their journey—simple yet enduring, nestled against the embrace of the forest and overlooking the serene beauty of the community they had come to call home. Within its humble walls, they found a peace that neither the chaos of battle nor the allure of power could ever offer. The skies, the seas, and their sanctuary spoke of a life rebuilt not on grandeur, but on love, quiet strength, and the profound joy of finding freedom in each other and the world around them.
Chapter 98 Part 2
Triumphant Entry
“Victory needs no announcement; its presence commands the world’s attention.”
After their tranquil vacation in the Freedom Community, Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao returned to Qinghai, a land filled with both political tension and the promise of renewal. Their journey back was not merely a homecoming but a return to the responsibilities and challenges that awaited them.
Struggle for the Throne
Upon their arrival, the weight of governance loomed heavily. The throne of Qinghai, a symbol of stability and authority, was still in a precarious state. Yuwen Yue, ever the strategist, immersed himself in resolving the turmoil that threatened their kingdom. His immediate priority was addressing the conflict with Ra Zheng, a powerful adversary whose alliances posed a danger to Qinghai’s fragile peace. Yuwen Yue’s meticulous planning and relentless focus made him a formidable opponent, but his commitment to justice often forced him to walk a fine line between diplomacy and retribution.
Meanwhile, Chu Qiao, known for her unwavering strength and sharp intellect, took on the role of mediator. She worked tirelessly to foster unity among the court’s fractured factions, her presence commanding respect and admiration. While Yuwen Yue engaged in battles of strategy, Chu Qiao became the heart of Qinghai’s revival, bringing hope to its people and forging alliances that could withstand the test of time.
As Ra Zheng and Yuwen Yue clashed on the political battlefield, Ra Zhun, a pivotal figure in the upheaval, awaited his fate. Imprisoned in Qinghai’s grand palace, his future hung in the balance. The council, divided in its opinions, debated whether he deserved mercy or punishment. Some viewed him as a cunning opportunist who had betrayed his kingdom, while others argued that his actions were born of desperation and could be redeemed.
Ra Zhun’s trial became a spectacle, drawing the attention of nobles and commoners alike. Yuwen Yue, despite his firm exterior, wrestled with the decision. Justice demanded accountability, but mercy required understanding—a conflict that resonated deeply with him as a ruler.
Amid the political chaos, Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao found solace in each other. Their shared history and enduring bond provided the strength they needed to face their challenges. Late at night, when the palace corridors were silent, they would meet to discuss their dreams for Qinghai—a land where justice prevailed and its people thrived.
Yet, their relationship was not without its trials. The burdens they carried sometimes created a distance between them. Yuwen Yue, ever reserved, often kept his struggles to himself, while Chu Qiao’s fierce independence sometimes led her to act alone. Despite these challenges, their love remained a guiding light, reminding them of the world they were fighting to build.
As Qinghai moved closer to resolving its conflicts, a sense of hope began to bloom. Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao’s efforts inspired their allies and rekindled faith in a brighter future. The throne, though fraught with challenges, became a symbol of unity and strength.
Ra Zheng, defeated but unbroken, retreated to plan his next move, his presence a lingering threat. Ra Zhun’s verdict, when finally delivered, set a precedent that would define Qinghai’s values in the years to come. Whether forgiven or condemned, his story became a lesson for all—one of resilience, consequence, and the complex nature of justice.
As the dust settled, Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao stood together, ready to lead Qinghai into an era of peace and prosperity. But they knew the road ahead would not be easy. It was a path that required courage, wisdom, and above all, unity.
A Proposal Like No Other
The courtyard in Qinghai’s royal palace was a place of serene beauty, carefully chosen by Yuwen Yue for this significant moment. The setting reflected his meticulous attention to detail, every element designed to create a memory that would last a lifetime.
The evening was cool, with the crispness of early spring lingering in the air. A gentle breeze wove through the courtyard, carrying with it the faint, sweet scent of plum blossoms from a nearby grove. The wind, soft and unintrusive, seemed to whisper secrets of the past and promises of the future. Above them, the sky stretched vast and clear, painted with hues of deep indigo and silver as the first stars began to appear. The moon, full and radiant, bathed the scene in its ethereal glow, adding a touch of magic to the atmosphere.
The courtyard was secluded, shielded from the outside world by tall, ancient stone walls covered in creeping ivy. Lanterns hung from intricately carved wooden beams, their warm amber light casting a soft, golden hue over the space. The flickering glow danced against the polished stone floor, creating an interplay of light and shadow that made the setting feel intimate and alive.
In the center of the courtyard, a small stone fountain bubbled quietly, its rhythmic murmur adding to the ambiance of peace. The fountain was surrounded by carefully arranged flowerbeds, where early spring blooms—white plum blossoms, deep red camellias, and pale pink peonies—added bursts of color to the tranquil scene.
Large, snarled trees stood sentinel in the corners of the courtyard, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Their silhouettes stretched out like protective arms, their presence both grounding and majestic. The occasional rustle of leaves added a soothing rhythm to the stillness, as if nature itself were bearing witness to this pivotal moment.
Under the soft glow of lanterns, Yuwen Yue stood waiting in the secluded courtyard of Qinghai’s royal palace. The air was crisp, filled with the faint fragrance of plum blossoms carried by a gentle breeze. The night seemed to hold its breath, cloaking the scene in an intimate stillness. Dressed in his ceremonial robes, every fold and detail of his attire reflected his noble heritage, but his face betrayed a rare vulnerability—a tenderness reserved for one person alone.
Chu Qiao stepped into the courtyard, her figure illuminated by the warm, flickering lantern light. Her presence was ethereal, her steps graceful yet hesitant, as if sensing the gravity of the moment. Dressed in a simple yet elegant gown, she seemed to belong more to the stars above than the earth beneath their feet.
Yuwen Yue’s usually composed demeanor softened as he met her gaze. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, though his heart raced. The words he had rehearsed so many times in his mind now felt weighty, yet he spoke them with quiet conviction.
The secluded courtyard was bathed in soft lantern light, its warm glow dancing across the stone pathway. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of plum blossoms, and the gentle rustle of leaves added an almost poetic rhythm to the quiet night. Yuwen Yue stood at the center, hands behind his back, trying to maintain his usual composed demeanor. The faint twitch of his lips, however, betrayed a rare nervousness.
When Chu Qiao entered, she stopped in her tracks, her arms folding instinctively, and a suspicious glare narrowing her eyes. “What now?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Another one of your dramatic ploys? Did I forget to wash your robes again?”
Yuwen Yue turned, his expression cool at first, but then a smirk crept onto his face. “No ploy this time,” he said, his tone light. “Let’s call it… an improvement plan.”
Chu Qiao let out a sharp breath, already unimpressed. “Improvement? You’ve already locked me into one ridiculous arrangement. Please don’t tell me you’re planning to propose—again.”
He took a step toward her, his hands still behind his back. “I admit, our first wedding wasn’t exactly traditional. A hasty affair, no proper ceremony, no dowry—though, I must say, I didn’t hate how quickly we got the paperwork signed.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I remember. No flowers, no music, and certainly no romance. Just you and a priest who looked like he’d rather be eating dumplings.”
“Well,” he replied, suppressing a laugh, “it’s hard to arrange a lavish wedding when there are assassins lurking around every corner. Priorities.”
“Priorities,” Chu Qiao scoffed. “Right. Like the killer ring you gave me as a wedding gift. Nothing says ‘romance’ like handing your bride a weapon.”
“That was a gesture of trust,” Yuwen Yue countered, his smirk widening. “And might I add, you passed the test—magnificently, as always.”
They both laughed, the sound a mix of exasperation and shared fondness. For a moment, the years they had spent bickering, fighting side by side, and enduring each other’s stubbornness seemed to shrink into this single, absurd conversation.
Then Yuwen Yue’s tone shifted, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “But tonight,” he said, “I want to do this the right way. No tricks. No schemes. No killer rings—well, maybe just one.”
Chu Qiao narrowed her eyes, half-skeptical, half-curious. “What are you talking about?”
From his pocket, Yuwen Yue produced a small black jade box. He opened it to reveal a ring—the killer ring. But this time, its sharp, lethal edges had been softened into something elegant and timeless. Its jade centerpiece gleamed in the lantern light, now a symbol of something far greater than a weapon.
“Do you remember this?” he asked, his voice quieter, touched with nostalgia. “Back then, it was a tool—a weapon for survival. Today, I’m giving it to you as a promise.”
Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow, her expression caught between amusement and irritation. “A promise? What, to stop tricking me into dangerous situations?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “A promise to be better. To make up for every rushed moment, every missed chance to tell you how much you mean to me. To face every argument, every battle, and every challenge—not as your leader, but as your partner.”
She stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness in his tone. Then, without warning, Yuwen Yue dropped to one knee.
“Yuwen Yue!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief. “Are you serious? Proposing again? Right here, right now?”
He looked up at her, utterly unbothered by her reaction. “Why not? The first time worked out pretty well, didn’t it? Besides, I thought I’d give you another chance to reconsider. Fair warning: if you say no, you’re not leaving this courtyard.”
Chu Qiao’s hands flew to her hips, her annoyance barely hiding the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible. Do you realize how ridiculous this is?”
“Ridiculous or not,” he said, his voice softening, “I’d ask you a thousand times if that’s what it took. You’re the only person who has ever seen past the walls I built around myself. And for some reason, you stayed.”
She let out a long sigh, shaking her head but unable to hide the warmth in her gaze. “You’ve already tied me down once, Yuwen Yue. Are you sure you want to do it again?”
“Need to? No,” he said, his smirk returning. “But I want to. This time, I want to hear you say yes because you mean it—not because you were tricked, rushed, or out of duty.”
Chu Qiao stared at him for a moment longer, her irritation melting into a mix of affection and exasperation. “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, snatching the ring from his hand. She examined it, turning it in her fingers, then slid it onto her finger. “Fine. Yes, Yuwen Yue. I’ll marry you—again. But don’t think this gets you off the hook for all the nonsense you’ve put me through.”
He stood, his grin widening as he took her hand in his. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.
As the breeze stirred around them, they both broke into laughter—a sound that carried their past, their present, and the promise of a future bound together by love, sarcasm, and just enough chaos to keep things interesting.
Circus of Joy
Just as Chu Qiao slipped the transformed killer ring onto her finger and muttered her begrudging “Yes,” a loud POP! echoed through the courtyard. Her head whipped around, eyes wide, as a flurry of confetti rained down from above. From behind a thick hedge, Yue Qi and Zuo Zong tumbled out, grinning like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Each held a party popper, the remnants of their surprise clinging to their robes.
“Congratulations!” Yue Qi hollered, his voice so exuberant it made Chu Qiao flinch. Zuo Zong, ever the showman, gave an exaggerated bow and added, “Didn’t think you’d actually say yes! Glad we didn’t waste all this effort!”
Chu Qiao’s mouth fell open. “What in the world—”
Before she could finish, the courtyard transformed before her eyes. Lanterns flared to life in every corner, casting vibrant colors over the stone pathway. Flowing banners of silk descended from the rooftops, shimmering like cascading waterfalls. In the center of the space, tables laden with the finest Qinghai delicacies appeared as if conjured by magic. Platters overflowed with roast duck, fresh seafood, fragrant dumplings, and sweets shaped like tiny blossoms.
The once-quiet evening was now alive with music and laughter. A troupe of acrobats dressed in dazzling silks tumbled into the courtyard, flipping and spinning as if gravity had taken the night off. A clown, garbed in ridiculous Qinghai attire, rode a unicycle past them, juggling flaming torches to the cheers of the rapidly growing crowd.
Chu Qiao blinked in disbelief. “Is this… a circus?”
“It’s a masquerade!” Yue Qi announced, tossing her a feathered mask. “But yes, there’s a circus too. You’re welcome.”
Zuo Zong clapped his hands, sending a shower of golden sparks into the air. “We couldn’t let this moment pass without a proper celebration! And since Yuwen Yue doesn’t know how to party, we took the liberty of fixing that.”
Yuwen Yue pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression a mix of embarrassment and reluctant amusement. “I told you to keep it simple.”
“Simple is boring,” Zuo replied with a grin. “Besides, what’s an engagement without a little flair?”
Chu Qiao turned to Yuwen Yue, her arms crossed and her expression caught between outrage and laughter. “Did you plan this?” she demanded.
Yuwen Yue sighed, his calm demeanor faltering slightly. “I only told them to prepare a small dinner. This… is not what I had in mind.”
“Not what you had in mind?” she echoed, incredulous. “This is an actual circus! There’s a clown over there trying to juggle a roasted pig!”
At that moment, the clown, wobbling precariously on his unicycle, let out a triumphant cheer as he caught the pig mid-air. The crowd burst into applause, and the music swelled.
Chu Qiao turned back to Yuwen Yue, unable to stop the grin spreading across her face. “Well, congratulations, Your Highness. You’ve officially outdone yourself in absurdity.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t do this.”
“Maybe not,” she said, slipping her hand into his with a laugh, “but it’s definitely your fault.”
The night turned into a whirlwind of festivities. Guests began to arrive, each donning elaborately decorated masks that glittered under the lantern light. Musicians played lively tunes, filling the air with energy and rhythm. Fire dancers spun flaming hoops in mesmerizing patterns, while a stilt-walking performer handed out flowers to delighted children.
Chu Qiao, now fully embracing the chaos, couldn’t help but laugh as she was whisked into a dance by Yue Qi, who spun her in circles before passing her off to Zuo Zong, who attempted a dramatic dip and nearly toppled them both. Yuwen Yue watched from the sidelines, his arms crossed and a faint smile tugging at his lips as his usually composed wife let herself enjoy the madness.
When she finally returned to him, slightly breathless, she nudged his shoulder. “Admit it,” she said. “You’re secretly enjoying this.”
“I’ll admit nothing,” he replied, though the twitch of his lips betrayed him.
“Of course not,” she teased. “But I know the truth. You like seeing me happy.”
He turned to her, his expression softening. “Always.”
The Qinghai Masquerade: A Night of Chaos and Color
The Qinghai masquerade engagement party had transformed into a carnival of energy, laughter, and unexpected appearances. Beneath the glittering lanterns, the crowd was a swirl of eccentric personalities, grand entrances, and dazzling costumes that defied both logic and tradition.
Zao Baocung: The Druid Clown and His Hamsters
Zao Baocung, always one to turn heads, darted through the party in a full Druid clown outfit—complete with oversized shoes, a polka-dotted cape, and an absurdly large red nose. His entourage? A band of scurrying hamsters, each wearing tiny, matching masks, chasing after their master with surprising coordination.
“Careful!” Zao shouted, ducking under a table as one of his hamsters lunged at a piece of roast duck on a platter. The guests burst into laughter, applauding his antics as he somersaulted back to his feet and bowed dramatically. “For your entertainment, the Hamster Troupe of Qinghai!”
A Red Carpet of Perfume and Extravagance
A red carpet was expertly rolled out along Qinghai’s polished stone road, stretching into the heart of the festivities. But Xiao Ce, ever the innovator, elevated the concept. Instead of spies or guards to herald his path, an entourage of perfumers scattered along the carpet, their golden spritzers working in flawless synchronization to release waves of ylang-ylang into the air. The sweet, intoxicating scent engulfed the crowd, turning heads and sparking murmurs of admiration—and a few amused chuckles.
“Only Xiao Ce,” someone whispered, “could weaponize perfume.”
All eyes were on him as the sound of approaching drums heralded the arrival of Xiao Ce, the ever-flamboyant prince, who strolled in with all the subtlety of a sunrise. Xiao Ce stepped onto the perfumed path with a confidence that bordered on audacity. His foxy, gold-threaded robes shimmered in the lantern light, each thread catching and reflecting the glow like liquid fire. You cannot underestimate him. The intricate embroidery on his attire depicted bold phoenixes and swirling clouds, symbols of power, elegance, and his penchant for being the center of attention.
The wide sleeves of his robe swished dramatically with every calculated step, the movement accentuated by the light, almost playful sway of his fox-shaped mask. Crafted from gilded materials, the mask glimmered like sunlight caught in a trickster’s grin, complementing the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
Entourage Like No Other
Flanking him were maids in sultry silk dresses, their designs toeing the line between elegance and scandal. Their flowing robes of crimson and gold were cut to reveal just enough to draw glances, their movements as fluid and hypnotic as the prince’s air of effortless charm.
Each maid carried an uber-long diffuser, waving it with deliberate precision to enhance the already overwhelming scent cloud that followed their master. As Xiao Ce passed, the scent lingered in the air, rich and heady, forcing everyone to take notice.
His every step was accompanied by a dramatic swish of his robe and a coy glance at anyone who dared make eye contact. The combination of his grand presence and absurd antics had the crowd both marveling and suppressing giggles. “I only graced this event,” he said with a theatrical sigh, “to ensure it didn’t lack beauty.”
Foxy Emperor of Liang – One-Man Show
As he reached the center of the courtyard, Xiao Ce paused for effect, spreading his arms wide as though expecting applause. “Citizens of Qinghai!” he announced, his voice dripping with exaggerated grandeur. “I have arrived to save this masquerade from mediocrity.”
The crowd exchanged glances, torn between laughing and rolling their eyes. Someone in the back muttered, “Save us from your perfume first.”
Xiao Ce’s fox mask tilted toward the whisperer, as if he had heard. “You’re welcome,” he said smugly, even though no thanks had been offered.
The prince took another deep breath, theatrically inhaling his own perfume cloud. “Ah, the perfect balance of ylang-ylang, jasmine, and success,” he mused. “You may all thank me later.”
By this point, the crowd was holding back laughter, and someone in the corner whispered, “He’s not a prince—he’s a walking fragrance ad.”
Even the red carpet perfumers were beginning to look weary, their spritzers working overtime to maintain the ever-expanding scent cloud. Yet Xiao Ce remained utterly unbothered, basking in the attention as if it were sunlight on a summer’s day.
Before stepping into the main party area, Xiao Ce turned to his maids and clapped once. The diffusers were raised high, releasing one final burst of perfume that sent a visible mist wafting through the air.
“Magnificent,” Xiao Ce murmured, stepping forward as the crowd parted for him like the sea before a particularly perfumed Moses. “Now, let us celebrate my arrival.”
As the prince vanished into the heart of the masquerade, the guests were left in stunned silence, broken only by scattered coughs and muffled snickers.
“Is it bad that I kind of admire him?” one guest asked.
“Only if you mean admire his ability to survive in that much perfume,” another replied.
With that, the party resumed—though the unmistakable scent of Xiao Ce lingered long after he disappeared, much like the man himself.
Seventh Prince of Wei and Mysterious Fiancée
Yuan Che, ever composed and regal, arrived in a more subdued yet no less elegant manner. His fiancée, veiled and adorned with a delicate mask, stayed by his side. “Qinghai,” he remarked, gesturing at the chaotic scene before them, “truly knows how to throw a spectacle.”
“Or a circus,” his fiancée murmured, her voice laced with amusement.
The anonymity of masks seemed to be the evening’s unspoken theme. “Why bother with faces?” someone whispered. “Qinghai is an empire of masks; the real faces don’t matter.”
Yuwen Huai: The Torture Chamber Chic
Yuwen Huai stepped into the courtyard, his attire immediately drawing murmurs and uneasy glances. His outfit was a grim statement, a blatant nod to Wei’s infamous torture chambers. Draped in robes of deep crimson and black, his ensemble was adorned with small metallic embellishments—replicas of the tools of pain his family had long been associated with. A miniature iron shackle hung from his belt, and the embroidered patterns on his sleeves mimicked the jagged edges of knives.
On his chest, a large medallion dangled, unmistakably a token from the Wei torture chambers. The audacious display made it clear that Yuwen Huai thrived on intimidation and macabre flair.
“Yuwen Huai never misses an opportunity to remind people of his family’s reputation,” someone whispered, casting a wary glance his way.
Despite the sinister undertones of his outfit, Yuwen Huai walked with unbothered arrogance, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. The flicker of irritation on his face only deepened when his gaze landed on Ra Zhun, who was already drawing attention with his over-the-top velvet regalia.
The Great Summer Wei Jewel
Beside Yuwen Huai stood Princess Chun’er, her presence as radiant as her brother’s was foreboding. She was adorned in a traditional Wei princess gown, the fabric a shimmering cascade of silver and gold that caught the lantern light like liquid starlight. Her skirt was layered with fine silk embroidered with delicate phoenix motifs, and her elaborate headdress sparkled with pearls and jade.
Her mask, crafted with intricate precision, was shaped like a phoenix’s wings, its edges curling upward in a dramatic flourish. Beneath it, her sharp eyes darted over the crowd with the haughty confidence of someone born to command attention.
She was every inch a Wei princess, from the tip of her bejeweled hairpin to the hem of her flowing gown. Yet, there was something icy in her demeanor, as though the pomp and splendor were meant to keep the world at arm’s length.
Ra Zhun: The Bold and Velvet Sixth Prince of Qinghai
Then there was Ra Zhun—who wasn’t even invited. Dressed in rich velvet robes that shimmered with a theatrical sheen, he swept into the courtyard with all the confidence of a king. His mask, overly intricate and adorned with gemstones, seemed to scream, “Look at me,” and the crowd couldn’t help but oblige.
As the siblings entered, Ra Zhun’s gaze locked onto Princess Chun’er, and he wasted no time making his way toward her. His extravagant outfit—a velvet masterpiece adorned with gold embroidery—seemed deliberately designed to compete with Chun’er’s own grandeur.
Spotting Yuwen Huai and Princess Chun’er, Ra Zhun strutted toward them, his voice booming, “Your Highness,” Ra Zhun said with a dramatic bow, his voice loud enough to draw attention. “Might I steal you for a dance?”
Yuwen Huai’s brows furrowed, his irritation palpable. “Steal? What are you talking about, Ra Zhun? Speak plainly.”
Ra Zhun, ever the provocateur, opened his mouth to repeat himself, but before he could, Ra Zheng intervened, stepping between them with an air of authority. Xiao Ba accompanied him, her mask concealing her identity, though her regal poise didn’t go unnoticed.
“Brother,” Ra Zheng said in a calm but firm tone, “you don’t plan to make a scene tonight, do you?”
Ra Zhun, unbothered, shrugged theatrically. “Merely a jest. Besides, what’s a masquerade without a bit of flair?”
Ra Zheng turned to Yuwen Huai, offering a polite bow. “Apologies for my brother’s… enthusiasm.”
Though the interaction was diffused, Ra Zhun’s bold approach left a mark on the evening. He lingered near Chun’er throughout the night, his attention unwavering despite the icy glances from Yuwen Huai. The rivalry simmered beneath the surface, unnoticed by most but felt by those who knew the players involved.
Yuwen Huai and Princess Chun’er, though not a couple, represented two starkly different facets of Wei. His attire, dark and menacing, served as a reminder of the empire’s brutal power and unforgiving legacy. Hers, on the other hand, embodied the elegance and regality of Wei’s imperial line, a symbol of its might and refinement.
Together, they moved through the masquerade like shadows and light—a pair who commanded attention, for better or worse.
Viper, the Nightmare of the Masquerade
The mood of the masquerade shifted sharply when Viper made her entrance, her mere presence sending a ripple of unease through the crowd. While most guests had opted for elegance or whimsy, Viper chose terror, and she wore it with pride.
Clad in an ensemble that seemed ripped straight from a ghost story, her mask blazing like fire, Viper’s attire defied the lavish elegance of the evening. Her black and crimson robes, torn and jagged at the edges, gave her the appearance of a specter who had risen from the depths of an underworld tale. The fabric seemed to shimmer faintly, as though it were alive, its dark hues occasionally interrupted by crimson streaks that pulsed like veins.
The most unsettling part of her outfit was her mask—a skeletal masterpiece complete with hollow, glowing eyes that flickered like eerie lanterns. The skeletal details extended down her neck and shoulders, blending seamlessly with her robe to create the illusion of a living phantom. Even the bravest guests found themselves stepping back as she moved past, their nervous chuckles betraying their unease.
“She’s like a ghost come to haunt us,” someone murmured, trying not to stare.
“A ghost with style,” another added nervously.
The Glowing Whip
If her appearance wasn’t enough to send chills down spines, the glowing whip coiled at her side certainly finished the job. Its faint luminescence pulsed with an otherworldly light, casting eerie shadows across the stone floor as she walked.
With a casual flick of her wrist, she unfurled the whip, the sound slicing through the air like thunder. The guests closest to her flinched instinctively, their laughter quickly morphing into uncomfortable silence.
“Relax,” she drawled, her voice as sharp as the crack of her whip. “It’s just for decoration… unless someone gives me a reason otherwise.”
Viper’s arrival sparked a wave of whispered commentary.
“She’s terrifying,” one guest whispered, their hand trembling as they reached for their wine.
“Terrifyingly beautiful,” another countered, though their voice wavered.
“She’s the kind of guest who makes you regret showing up,” a third chimed in, nervously eyeing the glowing whip.
Despite her nightmarish appearance, Viper moved with an unsettling grace. Her presence commanded attention, and though fear rippled through the crowd, so too did a strange admiration. She was a figure of power, both alluring and deadly, a walking contradiction that left the other guests unsure whether to flee or applaud.
As she took her place among the revelers, the faint glow of her whip and mask cast haunting shadows on the walls, ensuring that no one—absolutely no one—forgot her entrance.
Beside her, Zuo Zong had fully embraced his role as the clown of the night, his costume rivaling Zao Baocung’s in absurdity. “It’s not a competition,” he whispered to Zao when they crossed paths. “But if it were, I’d win.”
“Keep dreaming,” Zao Baocung shot back, rolling an oversized juggling pin toward him.
Yanbei Guests: Tribal Marvels
The Yanbei contingent, led by Douji and A’Jing, arrived in their traditional tribal attire, which caused an audible gasp from the crowd. Their outfits were adorned with oversized claws, intricately carved horns tied around their necks, and bold patterns that spoke of strength and pride.
“This is Yanbei style,” Douji declared, raising his ceremonial staff. “Not this flimsy Qinghai silk you all call fashion.”
The crowd erupted into laughter, marveling at their audacity.
While Douji and A’Jing basked in the attention of the crowd, the absence of Yanbei’s most prominent figures did not go unnoticed. Yan Xun and Xiao Yu, though invited, had chosen not to attend. Instead, they sent a letter, ceremoniously carried to the hosts.
The letter, addressed to Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao, was sealed with Yanbei’s emblem. Its contents, read aloud by a Qinghai attendant, carried warm congratulations on their engagement, along with a subtle, diplomatic note that their absence was due to matters of state.
The guests murmured, intrigued by the message’s careful wording. “Classic Yan Xun,” someone muttered. “Always keeping them guessing.”
Despite the absence of Yan Xun and Xiao Yu, the Yanbei contingent made sure their kingdom was not forgotten. Douji and A’Jing’s bold display and unapologetic humor cemented their presence, their tribal style standing out in a sea of Qinghai silks and jewels.
As they joined the festivities, the crowd continued to buzz about their dramatic entrance, a mix of admiration and curiosity for Yanbei’s unyielding spirit and undeniable flair.
Ra Zheng’s Entrance: A Silver Spectacle
As the masquerade unfolded into a whirlwind of laughter, eccentricities, and vibrant energy, Ra Zheng made his grand entrance. And what an entrance it was.
Clad entirely in shimmering silver, Ra Zheng’s attire was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. His robes gleamed under the lantern light, each thread catching and reflecting the glow until he seemed to radiate light himself. The intricate embroidery on his sleeves and chest depicted celestial patterns—stars, moons, and constellations—that shimmered with every step he took. Even his mask, a sleek and metallic creation, added to the almost blinding effect.
The crowd collectively turned toward him, many squinting or shielding their eyes from the brilliance. “Is he trying to blind us?” someone muttered.
Ra Zheng paused at the center of the courtyard, his composed expression unfazed by the stares. He swept a calm, regal gaze over the crowd, clearly aware of the attention he was drawing but pretending not to notice.
Zao Baocung, never one to let an opportunity slip by, burst out laughing from his spot near the banquet table. “Ra Zheng!” he called out, his voice carrying over the music. “Did you steal the moon and wear it as your outfit? Or is this your secret weapon to dazzle enemies into submission?”
The crowd chuckled, the tension breaking as a ripple of laughter spread. Ra Zheng turned his head slowly toward Zao Baocung, his lips twitching in what might have been the ghost of a smile.
“I could blind you with a glance,” Ra Zheng replied dryly, his tone so cool it made the joke land even harder.
Zao, never one to back down, bowed theatrically. “I surrender, oh luminous one! But if you’re going to dress like that, at least warn the rest of us to bring sunglasses.”
Ra Zheng’s entrance became the talk of the evening. Guests couldn’t stop commenting on his audacious choice of attire, a combination of admiration and disbelief.
“Only Ra Zheng could pull off something like this,” someone whispered, shaking their head.
“He’s like a walking silver statue,” another remarked. “Doesn’t he get tired of being so… perfect?”
“He doesn’t seem to notice,” came the dry reply.
Despite the humor surrounding his outfit, Ra Zheng’s presence had the intended effect. He stood out, even in a room full of elaborate costumes and flamboyant personalities. There was an aura of command about him, a quiet reminder that beneath the silver shine was a man who commanded respect—and perhaps a touch of fear.
As the evening continued, Ra Zheng moved with the elegance and composure of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. The silver prince, impossible to ignore, had made his mark on the masquerade, and even Zao Baocung’s antics couldn’t overshadow his brilliance.
Xiao Ba: From Fallen Snowflake to Silver Lotus Lady
Xiao Ba’s arrival at the masquerade was met with hushed admiration and murmured recognition. Once known as the Fallen Snowflake, a name whispered with both pity and respect for her past struggles, she now stood tall as the Silver Lotus Lady, a title earned through resilience and grace. Her transformation was as striking as the shimmering attire she wore, a testament to her journey from hardship to elegance.
Xiao Ba’s gown was a masterpiece of symbolism, crafted to reflect her metamorphosis from a fragile snowflake to a resilient lotus. The fabric, a soft silver that shimmered like moonlight on water, was delicately embroidered with blooming lotus flowers, their petals outlined in threads of pale gold. The hem of her gown flowed like ripples on a serene lake, creating a hypnotic effect with every step she took. The gown’s bodice was adorned with intricate patterns resembling frost, a nod to her past as the Fallen Snowflake. These frosted details subtly transitioned into the open petals of a lotus along her sleeves and train, symbolizing her emergence into strength and beauty. Her movements, fluid and deliberate, made it seem as though the gown itself carried the grace of a lotus drifting on water. The Mask of the Silver Lotus Her mask, a delicate creation of silver filigree, covered the upper half of her face. Its design mirrored the lotus motif of her gown, with petals arching upward toward her forehead and small crystal droplets hanging like dew from the edges. The light caught these crystals as she moved, creating a faint halo of shimmering reflections around her. The mask’s open design allowed her eyes to remain visible, their sharp, knowing gaze a reminder that beneath her serene exterior was a woman who had endured much and emerged stronger. Once called the Fallen Snowflake for the fragility of her circumstances, Xiao Ba now embraced her new identity as the Silver Lotus Lady. The name reflected her growth—a delicate flower that had risen from the mud to bloom with strength and grace. As she entered the courtyard, she carried herself with quiet confidence, her head held high. The guests, captivated by her transformation, whispered among themselves. “Is that Xiao Ba?” one murmured in disbelief. “The one they used to call the Fallen Snowflake?” “She’s no snowflake anymore,” another replied. “She’s the Silver Lotus now—and look at her. She’s radiant.” Despite the attention, Xiao Ba moved with an air of calm detachment. She acknowledged the murmurs with a faint smile, her demeanor poised but approachable. Her transformation was not only in her attire but in her presence—a quiet reminder that true strength is born from adversity. As the Silver Lotus Lady, Xiao Ba was more than a guest at the masquerade. She was a symbol of rebirth, resilience, and the power of quiet determination—a beacon of elegance among the evening’s flamboyance.
The Grand Entrances: A Night of Legends and Mystique
As the Qinghai masquerade reached its peak, the entrances of its most distinguished—and enigmatic—guests turned the night into a legendary spectacle, one that would be spoken of for years to come.
Ra Yue, the Eternal Snow Prince
The courtyard hushed as Ra Yue, the Crown Prince of Qinghai, made his appearance. Dressed in an all-white ensemble so pristine and regal it seemed untouched by human hands, he embodied the essence of eternal snow. His robes, delicately embroidered with silver thread, shimmered like frost kissed by the first rays of dawn. Each step he took radiated an almost otherworldly grace, his demeanor exuding both authority and elegance. At his side was the famed Poe Yue Jian Sword, its blade gleaming under the lantern light like liquid silver. The very air around him seemed cooler, as if the snow prince’s presence commanded even the elements. The guests watched, enraptured, their whispers dying in the face of his perfection. “There is nothing imperfect about him,” someone murmured, echoing the thoughts of all who beheld him.
Mimi Gongzhu, the Moonlit Empress
The awe surrounding Ra Yue doubled as Chu Qiao emerged, her gown a breathtaking masterpiece inspired by the Moon Kingdom. The hanfu she wore glistened as though crafted from moonlight itself, the fabric shimmering with silvery hues that seemed to dance and shift with her movements. Adorning the gown were intricate patterns of Red Higanbana blossoms, their vibrant crimson threads glowing softly, creating the illusion of flowers blooming and withering in a cycle of ethereal beauty. Around her, orbs of light floated like tiny moons, their soft luminescence adding a touch of magic to her presence. At her side, the Canhong Sword, slightly unsheathed, emitted a fiery glow that contrasted beautifully with her moonlit aura. The juxtaposition of fire and ice, light and shadow, was mesmerizing—a visual symphony of power and grace. “Is this magic?” one guest whispered, barely audible. “Or is she truly divine?”
The Underworld’s Arrival
As if the spectacle of Ra Yue and Chu Qiao weren’t enough, the masquerade’s energy shifted dramatically when the Underworld Spies made their entrance. Dressed in their signature bold and unconventional styles, they exuded an aura of mystique and danger, turning heads and igniting murmurs.
Lou He: Dark Queen of the Underworld
Lou He led the group, her stunning black gown and cape trailing behind her like shadows come to life. The intricate design of her attire hinted at the craftsmanship of the underworld, blending sleek modernity with ancient elegance. Her mask, sharp and angular, made her presence both alluring and intimidating.
Another white gown flowed behind her like liquid night after she removed her black gown and cape, the fabric seeming to absorb light rather than reflect it. The intricate design hinted at the finest craftsmanship, a blend of underworld artistry and modern sophistication. Fine silver threads wove through the black fabric, creating patterns that flickered like ghostly constellations when she moved.
The edges of her dress swirled with a life of their own, giving the illusion that shadows clung to her steps, reluctant to leave her side. The hem trailed behind her, its length carefully balanced to add an air of grandeur without compromising her graceful stride.
Lou He’s very presence was a paradox: she was both alluring and intimidating, a figure who could captivate and command in equal measure. Her movements were deliberate, each step a statement of authority. As she entered, the room seemed to quiet briefly, the guests unsure whether to admire her beauty or fear the power she so effortlessly exuded.
“She looks like she’s carved from shadow,” someone whispered in awe.
“And her dress… it’s alive,” another murmured.
Lou He’s mask was as striking as her gown—sharp, angular, and exquisitely detailed. The edges of the mask tapered into fine points, reminiscent of raven feathers, and the entire piece seemed carved from obsidian, gleaming with a subtle sheen.
The mask framed her piercing eyes, which seemed to hold the wisdom of countless secrets. The contrast between the severity of her mask and the delicate grace of her features made her allure all the more magnetic, drawing every gaze in the room to her.
Leading the Underworld Spies, Lou He was more than just a guest—she was a symbol of the enigmatic world she represented and the mother of Mimi Gingzhu Chu Qiao, the bride-to-be. Her attire was a silent declaration of her role as both guardian and sovereign of secrets. In the chaos of the masquerade, she was a reminder that not all beauty comes with light; some of the most captivating marvels are born in the depths of shadow.
Zhong Yu in Her Blue Feather Gown
Zhong Yu entered the masquerade like a vision from a dream, her blue gown adorned with cascading feathers, capturing the attention of everyone in the courtyard. The gown, crafted in the rich hues of twilight skies over distant mountains, shimmered softly under the lantern light, evoking the ethereal glow of a serene dusk.
Zhong Yu followed in an ethereal blue gown, the color of twilight skies over distant mountains. Her attire flowed like water, and her movements were so fluid it seemed as if she glided rather than walked. Her serene presence added an air of calm to the otherwise electrifying group.
The fabric of her gown seemed alive, rippling and shifting as though imbued with the essence of water itself. The feathered embellishments gave the impression of wings, each feather catching the light in a subtle play of iridescent blues and silvers. With every step she took, the gown moved with her in fluid harmony, making it appear as though she were gliding rather than walking.
The intricate detailing of her gown was breathtaking—each feather delicately sewn to mimic the natural texture of plumage, blending seamlessly into the silken layers of her skirt. The train of her dress billowed softly behind her, like a trail of mist over a tranquil lake.
In contrast to the electrifying energy of her companions, Zhong Yu brought a calm, almost hypnotic aura to the masquerade. Her movements were measured and deliberate, her demeanor serene yet captivating. Her mask, adorned with delicate sapphire accents, framed her face like a work of art, highlighting her natural elegance and poise.
As she moved through the crowd, her presence was a balm to the chaotic atmosphere, her quiet grace drawing admiring gazes and soft whispers.
“She’s like a spirit of the evening,” one guest murmured.
“More like a goddess descended from the heavens,” another added, unable to look away.
Despite her serene demeanor, there was an undeniable strength to Zhong Yu. The ethereal beauty of her attire and the calmness of her movements only added to her mystique, hinting at a depth that went beyond the surface.
As the masquerade swirled on around her, Zhong Yu remained a steady presence, her tranquil grace balancing the chaos and energy of the evening. She was a reminder that beauty need not be loud to command attention—it could be quiet, subtle, and unforgettable.
The Representative of the Afterlife
“Why is a Grim Reaper here? Ha… ha… ha…”
The masquerade took an eerie turn when “The Urshan” entered, his presence as subtle as a whisper but as unnerving as a thunderclap in the still of the night. Clad in robes of pale green and misty gray, his attire exuded an understated elegance that contrasted sharply with the more flamboyant outfits of the evening. Yet, it was the aura surrounding him that sent shivers through the crowd.
As he walked into the courtyard, the soft ripple of his robes mimicked the flow of water. The fabric seemed alive, shifting like mist curling over an unseen lake. With every step, faint flashes of lightning streaked across the sky, followed by the low rumble of distant thunder. The dramatic ambiance felt almost theatrical—yet unnervingly real.
Trailing behind him was a peculiar prop: a small boat fashioned from dark wood, its edges adorned with ghostly carvings. It looked like something plucked straight from the underworld, giving him the air of a ferryman of souls. The guests murmured, unsure whether to laugh at the absurdity or shudder at the haunting spectacle.
“Is he here to ferry us across the River Styx?” someone whispered nervously.
“I thought this was a masquerade, not a séance!” another added, trying to suppress their unease.
But it wasn’t just his attire or the props that unsettled the crowd—it was The Urshan’s eyes. They blazed with an otherworldly light, flickering like embers caught in an eternal storm. His gaze seemed to pierce through the masks and façades, leaving those who met his stare feeling exposed, as though their very souls were being weighed.
One particularly bold guest attempted to greet him, only to falter under the intensity of his gaze. The guest quickly retreated, mumbling something about “needing more wine.”
The Urshan, in his light green and gray robes, brought a quieter sophistication to the group. The fabric of his outfit, though simple in design, seemed to ripple like living mist, giving him an almost spectral appearance.
Scarface: The Overlord Gatekeeper of Handsomeness
Then there was Scarface, the most handsome man at the masquerade. His black hanfu robes were understated yet impeccably tailored, allowing his striking features to command attention. His face was adorned with intricate tattoos that shimmered faintly, appearing and disappearing like illusions. The tattoos served as a natural mask, enhancing his mystique and adding to his aura of danger.
“Who is he?” gasped one guest, unable to tear their eyes away.
“He’s from the underworld,” another whispered. “But no spy should be that… beautiful.”
Scarface’s piercing gaze swept the room, leaving many stunned. Despite the crowd’s chatter, he moved with quiet confidence, his every step measured and deliberate.
The room was divided in its reaction. Some guests exchanged nervous glances, unsure whether The Urshan’s appearance was meant to entertain or terrify. Others chuckled, albeit uneasily, finding his theatrical entrance more humorous than frightening.
Zao Baocung, ever the jokester, broke the tension by calling out, “Urshan! Did you get lost on the way back to the afterlife? Should we call for another boat?”
The crowd burst into laughter, grateful for the levity. Even The Urshan cracked a faint smile, though it only added to his enigmatic allure.
Despite the humor, there was no denying the commanding presence of The Urshan. He moved with a quiet grace, his spectral robes and blazing eyes drawing a wide berth from the crowd. His presence was a reminder that even in a night of revelry, the line between life and legend was thinner than it seemed.
And as the evening continued, the guests couldn’t help but glance his way, unsure whether he was merely a man—or something far more ethereal.
The Oracle: Playful and Mesmerizing
Finally, the Oracle entered, dressed in deep purple robes with golden embroidery. Though she carried herself with the wisdom of her title, her demeanor had a playful, almost childlike quality. Her glowing golden tattoos illuminated her face, adding a surreal beauty to her presence.
She made her way directly to Xiao Ce, who was surrounded by his usual entourage of extravagance. The Oracle tilted her head, her glowing eyes locking onto his.
“Did you miss me?” she asked, her voice carrying an air of mischief.
Xiao Ce’s eyes widened, his usually sharp tongue failing him. He looked like an owl caught in the glare of a lantern, his mouth slightly agape. “You…” he managed to stammer, “You look…”
“Mesmerizing?” she finished for him, her lips curving into a sly smile.
Xiao Ce could only nod, his grand flair momentarily subdued in the presence of the Oracle’s enigmatic charm.
Amid the dazzling elegance and extravagance of Qinghai’s masquerade, Yue Qi and Zuo Zong, known for their playful camaraderie and irreverent wit, arrived dressed to amuse, impress, and perhaps, provoke just a little chaos. Their outfits, while polar opposites, perfectly reflected their unique personalities, leaving the crowd both entertained and intrigued.
Yue Qi: The Loyal Jester
Yue Qi’s outfit was an amusing juxtaposition of elegance and jest, blending a knight’s loyalty with a court jester’s whimsy. He wore a sleek black and crimson suit, tailored to perfection, its sharp lines emphasizing his composed demeanor. However, the addition of a brightly colored sash adorned with jingling bells threw the entire ensemble into playful disarray, a clear nod to his wry humor.
His mask, a half-face piece of polished gold, featured intricate swirling designs that subtly mocked the seriousness of more traditional masks. To complete the look, Yue Qi added a jester’s cap motif to one side of the mask, making it clear that he wasn’t here to take anything too seriously. Hanging at his waist was a small decorative dagger with a hilt engraved with a grinning face—a practical accessory turned into yet another joke.
As Yue Qi moved through the courtyard, the bells on his sash jingled with every step, drawing smiles from the guests. He bowed dramatically to small clusters of onlookers, quipping, “Behold, the humble knight-jester, ready to serve—or to entertain—depending on what’s required.”
Zuo Zong: The Mischievous Peacock
In stark contrast, Zuo Zong arrived as a riot of color and flamboyance, fully embracing the masquerade as an opportunity to shine—literally. His robe, a flowing masterpiece of emerald green and sapphire blue, shimmered under the lantern light, its colors shifting with every movement. The fabric was adorned with feather-like patterns, creating the illusion of a peacock’s plumage when he twirled with exaggerated flair.
Zuo Zong’s mask was a showstopper—a brilliantly crafted peacock design with a golden beak and a plume of iridescent feathers that extended dramatically beyond his head. Each movement of his head sent the feathers bobbing in rhythm, drawing amused stares and appreciative laughter. Not content with just his dazzling robe and mask, Zuo Zong also carried a large decorative fan painted to mimic a peacock’s tail, which he used liberally to fan himself and occasionally to hide his face before delivering a witty remark.
As Zuo Zong swept into the courtyard, he twirled on the spot, flourishing his fan with a grand gesture. “Make way for the Peacock King!” he declared, his voice dripping with mock regality. “Admire me now before the real peacocks grow jealous.”
Together, Yue Qi and Zuo Zong were a spectacle to behold. Their contrasting outfits—a jester with understated humor and a peacock who thrived on flamboyance—highlighted their distinct personalities while complementing each other perfectly. As they moved through the crowd, their synchronized banter added another layer of entertainment to the masquerade.
At one point, Zuo Zong’s fan accidentally brushed against Yue Qi’s jingling sash, prompting Yue Qi to deadpan, “Careful, Zuo Zong, or you’ll knock me over. You wouldn’t want to outshine my bells.”
Without missing a beat, Zuo Zong swished his robe dramatically and replied, “And you wouldn’t want to step on my feathers. Do you have any idea how long it took to look this fabulous?”
Their antics drew laughter and applause from the guests, transforming what could have been a solemn affair into a celebration of humor, camaraderie, and individuality. Together, Yue Qi and Zuo Zong proved that while Qinghai’s masquerade celebrated grandeur and elegance, there was always room for a little mischief.
He Xiao: General of the Beauty Army
When He Xiao, the esteemed General of the Xuili Army, made his entrance to Qinghai’s grand masquerade, the atmosphere shifted. Unlike the flamboyant or ethereal appearances of others, He Xiao’s presence was defined by quiet strength and unshakable dignity. His attire, though understated compared to the extravagance of the evening, commanded attention and respect, reflecting his identity as a warrior and leader.
He Xiao wore a regal yet practical ensemble, blending the discipline of a soldier with the refinement of Qinghai’s courtly traditions. His robe was deep midnight blue, trimmed with silver embroidery depicting swirling clouds and sharp mountain peaks—a subtle nod to the harsh terrains where the Xuili Army had fought so valiantly. The fabric, though unadorned by jewels or excess, exuded quiet sophistication, its folds falling cleanly over his broad shoulders and strong frame.
A black leather belt cinched his robe, its buckle engraved with the emblem of the Xuili Army—a fierce wolf howling at the moon. On his arm, a silver armguard gleamed faintly in the lantern light, a token of his battlefield triumphs. The weight of his attire reflected not just his rank but the countless battles fought to protect the lands he served.
He Xiao’s mask was as restrained and commanding as the man himself. Crafted from dark steel, it covered the upper half of his face, its edges shaped into sharp, angular designs that evoked the image of a wolf—a symbol of loyalty, strategy, and ferocity. The mask’s simplicity highlighted his piercing eyes, which scanned the room with the precision of a tactician assessing a battlefield.
Unlike others who used their masks to hide or dazzle, He Xiao’s mask served as a statement: that he was both part of the masquerade and distinctly apart from its frivolity. It gave him an air of mystery and gravitas, a reminder of the responsibilities he carried even in moments of celebration.
He Xiao moved with the precision of a soldier, each step deliberate and measured. While others flaunted their attire with dramatic gestures, his quiet confidence spoke volumes. The room seemed to instinctively part for him as he passed, the murmurs of the crowd laced with a mix of respect and curiosity.
“He’s not here for games,” someone whispered, their tone hushed with awe. “That’s He Xiao, the General of the Xuili Army.”
Another guest added, “Even at a masquerade, he looks ready for battle. He could probably defeat us all with a single glance.”
Despite the grandeur surrounding him, He Xiao carried himself with the same discipline and focus that had earned him his legendary status. He exchanged polite nods and brief pleasantries with the guests but refrained from indulging in the evening’s more flamboyant displays. His rare smile, though fleeting, softened the stern lines of his face, reminding those around him that beneath the stoic exterior was a man of deep loyalty and unwavering integrity.
Even in a night filled with extravagance and spectacle, He Xiao’s quiet strength stood out, a living testament to the ideals of honor, duty, and sacrifice. The masquerade may have celebrated the beauty of masks, but for He Xiao, his true identity—the General of the Xuili Army—needed no embellishment.
Meng Feng: The Assassins’ Ensemble
When Meng Feng, the infamous defector of the Afterlife Assassins Guild, entered the masquerade, the atmosphere grew heavy with tension. Unlike the other guests, whose attire dazzled with elegance or amused with eccentricity, Meng Feng’s appearance was a chilling reminder of shadows and bloodshed. Her reputation as a master assassin turned rogue preceded her, and even among Qinghai’s most prominent figures, her presence caused a ripple of unease.
Meng Feng’s attire was a seamless blend of lethal precision and haunting beauty. Her fitted black robes clung to her figure like a second skin, their sharp, angular designs reminiscent of the deadly tools she once wielded with ease. The edges of her robe were trimmed in dark crimson, as if dipped in blood, and the fabric shimmered faintly, reflecting light like the surface of an oil-slicked blade.
Around her waist, a crimson sash was tied in a deceptively loose knot, the trailing ends embroidered with intricate patterns of lotus flowers—a symbol of rebirth and transformation. Attached to her belt were small, discreet pouches, their contents known only to her, and a single dagger hung at her side, its hilt adorned with an inscription that read, “For shadows, no master.”
Her mask, crafted from obsidian-like material, covered her entire face save for her piercing eyes. The surface was smooth and devoid of any embellishment, but its shape—a stylized crow in flight—spoke volumes. The crow’s outstretched wings curved down along her cheeks, a clear statement of her defiance and liberation from the guild that once controlled her.
The mask’s dark, glossy finish caught the flickering light of the lanterns, creating the illusion of movement. It was both haunting and mesmerizing, a reflection of the assassin who wore it.
Meng Feng’s arrival was not marked by grand gestures or fanfare, yet it commanded attention. She moved with the silent grace of a predator, her steps so quiet they seemed to absorb the sound around her. The crowd parted instinctively as she approached, their whispers hushed with awe and fear.
“Is that Meng Feng?” one guest murmured, their voice barely audible. “The assassin who betrayed the Afterlife Guild?”
“She’s more than a defector,” another whispered. “She’s a ghost—they say no one can catch her.”
The tension was palpable as Meng Feng passed by, her sharp gaze scanning the room with the detached precision of someone who had spent a lifetime calculating danger. Yet there was no malice in her demeanor tonight, only an air of quiet defiance and independence.
Despite her fearsome reputation, there was an elegance to Meng Feng that could not be ignored. The flowing lines of her attire and the calm confidence in her movements told a story of transformation—a deadly weapon who had chosen to carve her own path.
To some, she was a symbol of betrayal; to others, a beacon of strength. But to all, she was a reminder that even the deadliest shadows could step into the light and claim their place among the living.
Meng Feng did not linger long in one place, her movements calculated to avoid drawing too much attention. Yet wherever she walked, the murmurs followed, and the space seemed to bend around her presence.
For a masquerade filled with masks, hers was perhaps the most enigmatic of all. It wasn’t just a disguise—it was a declaration. Meng Feng, once an assassin bound by the chains of the Afterlife Guild, was now her own master, a shadow who had chosen freedom over servitude.
Yuan Song: Former Crown Prince of Wei
Yuan Song’s arrival at the masquerade was marked by a blend of regal charm and understated elegance, befitting his role as the Former Crown Prince of Wei. Known for his keen intellect and diplomatic finesse, Yuan Song chose an ensemble that reflected both his noble stature and his strategic mind—balanced, thoughtful, and subtly imposing.
Dressed in robes of deep jade green, Yuan Song’s attire paid homage to Wei’s imperial colors while maintaining a modern, understated flair. Gold embroidery traced the edges of his robe, depicting intricate designs of dragons coiled around lotus blossoms—symbols of power and purity. The fabric shimmered faintly under the lantern light, its texture fine enough to denote royalty without excessive flamboyance.
His belt, a polished band of dark bronze, bore the crest of Wei’s imperial house, subtly reminding everyone of his station. A ceremonial sword rested at his side, its hilt adorned with jade inlays that matched his robe. Though the blade was likely dulled for the evening, its presence was a statement: Yuan Song was a prince prepared for both courtly affairs and battle.
Yuan Song’s mask was a masterpiece of minimalism. Crafted from a thin sheet of gold, it covered the upper half of his face, its smooth surface devoid of excessive ornamentation. A single, delicate dragon motif curled along one side, its tail ending just below his cheekbone, emphasizing his status without overwhelming his refined features.
The simplicity of his mask allowed his eyes to remain the focal point—sharp, calculating, and always watching. Yuan Song’s mask wasn’t just a disguise; it was a testament to his belief that power need not shout—it merely needed to be seen.
Yuan Song carried himself with the poise of a man who understood both the weight of his crown and the intricacies of the political game. He moved through the crowd with an effortless grace, exchanging polite nods and measured words with the other guests. His calm demeanor made him approachable, yet his every interaction hinted at a mind constantly at work.
Ping’An: Soldier of Yanbei
In stark contrast to Yuan Song’s regal refinement, Ping’An, the loyal soldier of Yanbei, entered the masquerade with the air of a warrior who had little time for courtly pretense. Known for his unwavering loyalty and rugged demeanor, Ping’An’s attire was a reflection of his roots—a blend of practical simplicity and subtle pride in his Yanbei heritage.
Over his tunic, Ping’An wore a black leather chest piece, lightly engraved with Yanbei’s tribal symbols, including the wolf—a creature of loyalty and survival. His boots, worn but polished, and a wide belt with a bronze wolf-head buckle completed his ensemble.
Strapped to his back was a simple but finely crafted sword, its scabbard adorned with Yanbei’s traditional tribal patterns. Though the sword was ceremonial for the evening, its presence served as a reminder of the battles he had fought and the loyalty he carried with him.
Ping’An’s mask, carved from dark wood, was simple yet commanding. It bore the image of a wolf’s face, its angular features accentuating his sharp jawline. The grain of the wood added a rustic charm, while faint silver inlays traced along the edges gave it a subtle elegance.
Unlike the ornate masks of the nobility, Ping’An’s mask was practical and unpretentious, a reflection of his character. It was a mask that told a story of hardship, resilience, and an unwavering bond to his homeland.
Ping’An moved through the crowd with a warrior’s gait—steady, purposeful, and slightly out of place in the polished setting of Qinghai’s courtly masquerade. Though he exchanged polite words when addressed, his piercing gaze scanned the room with the vigilance of someone more accustomed to battlefields than ballrooms.
Despite the opulence around him, Ping’An’s presence carried a quiet strength that drew admiration. He was a soldier among princes, a wolf among peacocks, and his unadorned demeanor was a testament to the rugged beauty of Yanbei’s fighting spirit.
The Black Sun Pirate: Shangrila Seas
The masquerade took a darker, more thrilling turn when the Black Sun Pirate made their appearance. Known across the seas for their ruthless cunning and daring exploits, the pirate’s arrival was as mysterious and striking as their legend. Draped in a unique blend of rugged seafaring style and dark elegance, the Black Sun Pirate commanded attention not through grandeur, but through the sheer weight of their myth.
The Black Sun Pirate’s attire was a dramatic fusion of function and flair, designed to evoke their life of adventure on the high seas. Their long coat, made of deep black leather with accents of dark crimson, swept the ground as they moved, its high collar adding an air of menace. Embossed on the coat were subtle designs of swirling waves and ominous suns, barely visible except under the lantern light.
Underneath the coat, they wore a fitted tunic of midnight blue, its fabric interwoven with shimmering threads that mimicked the reflection of moonlight on water. A wide belt of dark steel cinched their waist, holding a series of small pouches and a single, elegant cutlass with a hilt shaped like a rising sun—a weapon that was as much a symbol as a tool.
The boots, sturdy and worn, were a testament to their practical life, while their gloves, black and fingerless, hinted at both a readiness for combat and a disdain for frills.
Their mask, a masterpiece of dark craftsmanship, was forged from blackened steel with veins of crimson etched across its surface. The mask covered their entire face, save for the eyes, which glinted with sharp intelligence and calculated danger. At its center was an embossed image of a sun eclipsed in shadow, a symbol that both fascinated and unnerved those who recognized it.
The mask’s design was as haunting as it was commanding, giving the impression of a figure who thrived in darkness and chaos yet moved with the precision of someone who had mastered the art of control.
The Black Sun Pirate did not announce their arrival with fanfare or flourish. Instead, they entered the masquerade with a calm, deliberate stride, the soft thud of their boots on the stone floor the only sound that accompanied them. Their very presence seemed to drain the air of frivolity, replacing it with a tense curiosity.
The crowd, initially startled, began to whisper as they passed.
“Is that… the Black Sun Pirate?” someone asked, their voice barely above a whisper.
“They say they’ve plundered ships from every kingdom,” another replied, their tone tinged with both fear and awe. “And that no one who crosses them survives.”
“Why are they here?” came a third, the question hanging in the air like a warning.
Despite the whispers and curious stares, the Black Sun Pirate remained silent, their posture steady and their movements precise. They acknowledged no one directly, yet their presence was impossible to ignore. The sharp gleam of their eyes beneath the mask hinted at a mind constantly at work, observing, calculating, and preparing for whatever might come.
In a masquerade filled with glittering masks and colorful robes, the Black Sun Pirate stood out as a shadow among the light. Their dark elegance and enigmatic demeanor added an air of danger and intrigue to the evening, a reminder that the seas—and those who rule them—were never far from Qinghai’s shores.
For all their silence, the Black Sun Pirate left an impression that would linger long after the masquerade ended. They were a figure of myth brought to life, a shadow that walked among the noble and the powerful, a reminder that even in the brightest of celebrations, darkness always finds a way to leave its mark.
Princess Huan Huan of Yanbei: The Radiant Flame
When Princess Huan Huan of Yanbei entered the masquerade, she was a vision of fiery elegance, her presence as warm and commanding as her reputation. Known for her charisma and unyielding spirit, Huan Huan’s appearance struck a perfect balance between Yanbei’s fierce pride and the refinement expected of royalty. Her attire, bold and radiant, reflected her personality—passionate, unafraid, and undeniably regal.
Princess Huan Huan’s gown was a masterpiece of Yanbei’s unique artistry, designed to evoke the fiery resilience of her homeland. Crafted from flowing layers of crimson and gold silk, the gown shimmered with every step, as if alive with the flicker of flames. The fabric, dyed with hues that transitioned from deep red at the hem to a golden glow near her shoulders, seemed to capture the very essence of fire.
The bodice was intricately embroidered with patterns of phoenix feathers, a nod to Yanbei’s spirit of rebirth and triumph. Small, jewel-like beads sewn into the gown caught the light, creating the illusion of sparks dancing across the fabric. The gown’s train, long and elegant, was edged with golden threads that sparkled like embers in the night.
Huan Huan’s mask was as striking as her gown, a creation of vibrant gold and ruby red. Its design mimicked the wings of a phoenix, with feather-like extensions framing her face and arching upward in a dramatic flourish. The mask’s surface was adorned with intricate patterns of flame and feathers, highlighted with delicate gold inlays that added depth and texture.
Through the mask’s delicate design, her eyes—sharp and alive with intelligence—shone brightly. The mask was not just an accessory; it was a declaration of her identity as both a royal and a warrior, a phoenix that rose from the ashes with dignity and strength.
Huan Huan entered the courtyard with natural grace, her every movement exuding confidence. Her vibrant attire and radiant smile drew the eyes of everyone present, yet her demeanor carried a warmth that made her approachable despite her royal stature.
“She’s like a flame,” one guest whispered, watching her. “Bright, warm, but you know she could burn if crossed.”
“She doesn’t walk—she glides,” another added, marveling at her poise.
Unlike many of her peers, Princess Huan Huan engaged the guests with genuine charm, her conversations laced with wit and insight. She moved through the crowd with ease, her laughter light yet infectious, her words thoughtful yet unyielding in their convictions. She carried herself with the dignity of a princess, but her heart remained tied to the struggles and triumphs of Yanbei.
Her gown, her mask, and her very presence told the story of a princess who was as much a warrior as she was a diplomat. She was a flame that could warm and inspire or burn and destroy—depending on how she was approached.
As the evening continued, Huan Huan’s presence served as a reminder of Yanbei’s unyielding spirit and its enduring beauty. She was a phoenix reborn, carrying the hopes and pride of her people, a beacon of light and strength among the masquerade’s swirling masks and shadows.
Princess Huan Huan didn’t just attend the masquerade; she left an indelible mark, her fiery elegance and commanding warmth ensuring that no one would forget the radiant flame of Yanbei.
The Engagement Party turned to Masquerade Ball
The masquerade had officially descended into a chaotic blend of glittering elegance and outright absurdity. Lanterns swayed in the evening breeze, casting flickering light over a courtyard filled with masked nobles, clumsy clowns, and more secrets than a Yanbei spy could eavesdrop on. If there had been an official program for the evening, it had long been abandoned—along with half the guests’ dignity.
Yuwen Yue stood beside Chu Qiao, arms crossed and his face set in its usual stoic expression. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, not bothering to look directly at her.
She glanced up from her cup of tea—which she had been nursing far longer than the wine-drunk revelers around them. “Oh, absolutely,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “This is exactly how I imagined a masquerade: Xiao Ce smelling like a mobile flower shop, Zao Baocung chasing hamsters in clown shoes, and Ra Zhun trying to steal Princess Chun’er under everyone’s nose.”
Yuwen Yue smirked faintly. “I warned you about the company you’d keep when you married me.”
She raised an eyebrow, giving him a sidelong glance. “Company? Or an open invitation to a traveling circus?”
Before he could respond, a loud burst of laughter erupted from the fountain. They both turned to see Xiao Ce, dramatically fanning himself as the Oracle—her glowing gold tattoos flickering in the dark—leaned far too close to his face.
“Did you miss me?” she asked, her voice carrying across the courtyard.
Xiao Ce froze, looking as though he had just been slapped with a dead fish. His fan faltered mid-flourish, and his typically sharp tongue seemed to vanish into the night. “M-miss you? Why would I—”
The Oracle giggled, patting his cheek before strolling away, leaving the perfumed prince blinking like an owl caught in daylight.
“See what I mean?” Chu Qiao said, gesturing toward the scene. “Your friends are hopeless.”
“Hopeless?” Yuwen Yue echoed, his tone dry. “Or just incredibly consistent?”
Chu Qiao snorted. “Consistently ridiculous, maybe.”
Nearby, Zuo Zong and Yue Qi were deep into their self-proclaimed “betting corner,” loudly debating whether Viper’s glowing whip or Meng Feng’s death glare would win the latest standoff. Meanwhile, the Black Sun Pirate stood just far enough from the crowd to radiate intrigue but close enough to catch every juicy detail, their mask gleaming ominously as they watched the antics unfold.
Zao Baocung darted through the chaos like a comet, tripping over his oversized shoes as he dove after a runaway hamster. He skidded to a stop in front of Ra Zheng, who, in his blinding silver attire, barely glanced down before deadpanning, “Careful. If you smudge my robes, you’ll be the next thing those hamsters are chasing.”
Not far from the fountain, Douji of Yanbei bellowed, “This is Yanbei style!” as he slammed his ceremonial staff on the ground. His companion, A’Jing, casually adjusted the oversized horns hanging around his neck while muttering something about how Qinghai’s silks could barely survive one Yanbei winter.
Chu Qiao shook her head, taking in the spectacle. “So this is what high society looks like,” she said, her voice laced with mock awe. “I’ve been doing it wrong all these years.”
Yuwen Yue tilted his head slightly, regarding her with faint amusement. “If you’re so unimpressed, why don’t we leave?”
She sipped her tea and arched an eyebrow. “And miss watching Xiao Ce trip over his own ego? Never.”
“Fair point,” he said, his lips twitching upward in a rare smile. “Besides, it’s worth staying just to see how long Zao Baocung can keep those hamsters under control.”
“You’re oddly invested in the hamster chaos,” she teased. “Should I be worried?”
He leaned closer, his voice low and teasing. “Only if they start wearing masks and plotting revolutions.”
Chu Qiao smirked, rolling her eyes. “I married an idiot.”
“And yet, here you are,” he replied smoothly, his expression unflinching. “Stuck with me at this traveling circus you so lovingly described.”
As the music swelled again, Chu Qiao glanced at the crowd—at the dancing lights, the swirling masks, and the sheer absurdity of the scene. There was chaos, yes, but also something strangely comforting about it. Amid the madness, alliances were forming, rivalries were sparking, and friendships—however odd—were solidifying. It was messy, unpredictable, and utterly unforgettable.
She turned back to Yuwen Yue, her voice softer now. “You know, as ridiculous as this all is… I wouldn’t change it.”
He glanced at her, his expression unreadable but his voice gentle. “Neither would I.”
And as the night carried on, filled with laughter, banter, and enough perfume to drown a fleet, the masquerade became exactly what it was meant to be: a beautiful, absurd, chaotic celebration of life’s unpredictability—one that left everyone wondering what the next act of this grand performance would hold.
Chapter 99.1 Part 1
All is fair under the sun
As the morning’s quiet dissolved into the usual bustle of Qinghai’s affairs, an unexpected topic found its way into Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao’s discussions: the matter of a dowry. What began as a practical conversation quickly turned into yet another exchange of humor and sharp wit between the couple as they navigated the strange traditions of courtly life with their usual irreverence.
Yue Qi, ever the diligent attendant, entered with a carefully prepared list, his expression betraying the weight of the task at hand. “Young Master,” he began, clearing his throat, “it seems the court has begun whispering about the dowry for Lady Chu. It’s expected that you present a list of offerings as part of the marital arrangements.”
Chu Qiao, sipping her tea at the table, raised an eyebrow. “A dowry? You mean the price for selling me off? How charming.”
Yuwen Yue glanced up from his correspondence, his expression unreadable as always, though a faint twinkle in his eye betrayed his amusement. “It’s tradition, Chu Qiao. We must honor it.”
“Honor it?” she shot back, setting her cup down with a sharp clink. “Last I checked, I wasn’t livestock.”
Yue Qi coughed discreetly, trying to maintain his composure. “It is, of course, symbolic, my lady. The dowry signifies the union of two families and the resources they bring together.”
Chu Qiao rolled her eyes. “Resources. Right. What’s next, a tally of how many goats I’m worth?”
Yuwen Yue leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on his hand as he regarded her. “Perhaps we should make the dowry reflective of your accomplishments.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Go on.”
“Well,” he said, his voice tinged with mock seriousness, “we could start with a fully armed battalion, since you’ve led armies. Perhaps a treasury of gold and jewels, since you seem to inspire loyalty in everyone. And, of course, a custom blade forged from the finest steel—though I suspect you’d prefer to choose that yourself.”
Chu Qiao tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Interesting. Should we add a few assassins to the list? You know, for variety.”
Yue Qi, now visibly uncomfortable, shifted awkwardly. “The court might find that… unconventional.”
“Unconventional is what we do best,” Chu Qiao quipped, waving him off.
She turned to Yuwen Yue, a mischievous glint in her eye. “What about your side of the deal? If I’m supposed to come with this grand dowry, what are you bringing to the table?”
Yuwen Yue smirked, leaning forward. “I thought my good looks and impeccable reputation would suffice.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Reputation? Half the court is terrified of you. As for looks, well…” She trailed off, giving him a pointed once-over. “Let’s just say they won’t be writing poems about you anytime soon.”
“Harsh,” he replied, his tone light. “But fair.”
Desperate to regain control of the conversation, Yue Qi interjected, “Perhaps a balance can be struck? A modest dowry to satisfy tradition, without… assassins or battalions.”
Chu Qiao arched an eyebrow at him. “Fine. We’ll stick to the basics. A couple of silk bolts, maybe a nice tea set.”
“And a lifetime supply of sarcasm,” Yuwen Yue added dryly.
“I provide that for free,” Chu Qiao shot back with a grin.
In the end, it was decided—without assassins or battalions—that a modest but meaningful dowry would be presented. A few symbolic items were chosen to represent both Chu Qiao’s strength and the bond between them: a ceremonial sword, a chest of Yanbei-crafted treasures, and a simple jade pendant that once belonged to Yuwen Yue’s mother.
As the matter was settled, Yuwen Yue leaned closer to her, his voice low. “You know, the truth is, no dowry could ever reflect your worth.”
Chu Qiao paused, caught off guard by the rare sincerity in his tone. She glanced at him, her smile softening. “Careful, Yue. If you keep saying things like that, I might start to think you actually like me.”
He smirked. “Don’t push your luck.”
And with that, the conversation ended the way most of their exchanges did—with humor, banter, and the unspoken bond that lay beneath it all.
By the next day, the news of Chu Qiao’s dowry had spread like wildfire, crossing borders and reaching the ears of rulers, generals, merchants, and spies in every corner of the region. What began as a seemingly simple arrangement—a token of tradition—quickly transformed into a hot topic of gossip, speculation, and even political intrigue. Each empire, state, and faction interpreted the news through its own lens, leading to reactions that ranged from amusement to suspicion, and even outright envy.
In the glittering courts of Wei, the noble families wasted no time dissecting every detail of the dowry.
“A ceremonial sword? A jade pendant? How quaint,” scoffed one noblewoman, waving her fan dismissively. “Hardly befitting a union of such power.”
Another nobleman leaned in conspiratorially. “Did you hear about the chest of Yanbei-crafted treasures? What could Yanbei possibly offer of value? Dirt and stubbornness?”
The court erupted into polite laughter, though a few keen observers noted the tension in the room. The Wei emperor’s advisors murmured quietly among themselves, speculating whether the modesty of the dowry was a calculated move—a show of restraint to hide a deeper alliance—or simply an indication of Qinghai’s waning influence.
In Qinghai, the reaction was more divided. While some praised the elegance and symbolism of the dowry, others grumbled about the lack of ostentation.
“A single chest of treasures?” one courtier grumbled. “Where are the caravans of silk? The rare jewels? This is a royal wedding, not a peasant’s marriage!”
Others, however, admired the restraint. “It’s a statement,” said a strategist, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “They’re showing that power doesn’t come from material wealth—it’s in the unity of their forces and the strength of their bond.”
Yuwen Yue, overhearing the whispers, simply smirked and let them talk. He had long learned that letting the court speculate was often more effective than providing answers.
In Yanbei, the news of the dowry was met with a mixture of pride and pragmatism. Yan Xun’s advisors debated whether the Yanbei-crafted treasures included in the dowry could be interpreted as a diplomatic overture.
“Chu Qiao hasn’t forgotten her roots,” one advisor remarked. “Including treasures from Yanbei is a sign of her loyalty to her homeland.”
Yan Xun, reading the details with a faint smile, dismissed the speculation. “It’s Chu Qiao,” he said simply. “She’s reminding them where she comes from. And that she’s not so easily bought.”
Ping’An, overhearing the discussion, muttered, “I’d like to see how long those treasures last in a Qinghai court full of silk-swaddled nobles.”
In Liang, Xiao Ce—true to form—made sure everyone knew his opinion. Surrounded by his entourage of perfumers and scantily clad maids, he waved the news of the dowry in the air like a battle flag.
“Can you believe this?” he exclaimed, dramatically fanning himself. “A single chest of treasures? A pendant? A sword? That’s what they call a dowry these days? Where’s the flair? The extravagance? The—” he paused, gesturing to himself with both hands, “—drama?”
One of his advisors coughed discreetly. “Your Highness, not everyone values ostentation.”
“Well, they should,” Xiao Ce snapped, before leaning back with a pout. “It’s a good thing I wasn’t in charge of this wedding. I would’ve sent elephants draped in gold. And at least three marching bands.”
His advisors exchanged weary glances, silently thankful that Xiao Ce hadn’t been involved.
In the Freedom Community, where simplicity and practicality were valued, the news of the dowry was met with quiet admiration.
“She doesn’t need gold and jewels to prove her worth,” one elder remarked. “Chu Qiao has earned her place through her actions, not her possessions.”
Another added, “A jade pendant and a sword—that’s not a dowry. That’s a statement. She’s a warrior, not a doll.”
Even in the dark corners of the underworld, the news of the dowry sparked intrigue. Lou He, leader of the spies, raised an eyebrow as she read the details.
“A chest of treasures, a ceremonial sword, and a pendant?” she mused aloud. “It sounds simple. Too simple.”
Zhong Yu, lounging nearby in her usual ethereal blue attire, smirked. “You think there’s a hidden message?”
“Everything in Qinghai is a hidden message,” Lou He replied, her tone dry. “The question is, what are they trying to hide?”
As the news spread, so too did its impact. Merchants speculated about the treasures included in the dowry, hoping to catch a glimpse of Yanbei craftsmanship. Spies reported back to their masters with wildly differing interpretations of the gesture. Nobles debated whether the simplicity of the dowry was a sign of confidence or weakness. And in every corner of the empires, the names Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao were once again on everyone’s lips.
For the couple at the center of it all, the chatter was little more than background noise. As Yuwen Yue had predicted, the dowry was just one more move in a long, complicated game. And for Chu Qiao, it was simply another reminder that no matter what the world thought, she and Yuwen Yue were in this together—ready to face whatever came next, side by side.
Back in the grand halls of the Yuwen Household, the news of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao’s dowry was the topic of the hour. The sprawling estate, normally stoic and imposing, buzzed with a rare sense of activity as servants carried messages, courtiers exchanged whispers, and the family elders debated the implications of the announcement.
The Elders: Tradition Meets Modernity
The elders of the Yuwen clan gathered in the formal hall, their expressions ranging from contemplative to outright disapproving. These were the traditionalists, the keepers of the family’s long and prestigious legacy, and they took matters of marriage—and dowries—very seriously.
“This dowry is… modest,” one elder said, adjusting the heavy jade ring on his finger. “A single chest of treasures? A sword? A pendant? Is this how the Yuwen family honors a marriage?”
Another elder, her sharp eyes peering over the rim of her tea cup, added, “It’s not just about appearances. It’s about setting a precedent. This union ties us to Yanbei, to their politics and their struggles. We cannot appear weak.”
A younger advisor, braver than most, interjected cautiously, “But perhaps this is the point. Modesty sends a message of confidence. Extravagance might invite suspicion—especially from Wei and Liang.”
The elders muttered among themselves, the room divided between those who demanded grandeur and those who saw the subtle genius in Yuwen Yue’s approach. Despite their disagreements, one thing was clear: the dowry had stirred more than just discussion. It had sparked a deeper examination of the family’s role in Qinghai’s future.
Lady Yuwen, the matriarch of the household and a figure of quiet authority, sat serenely at the head of the table, her expression unreadable as the others debated. Finally, she raised a hand, silencing the room.
“Yuwen Yue has always been deliberate,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Every choice he makes is calculated. If he and his bride have chosen a modest dowry, it is because they understand what it represents.”
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the assembled elders. “We are not a family of spectacle. We are a family of legacy. Let others judge us by their shallow standards. Our strength has never been in gold or jewels—it is in our influence, our resilience, and our ability to outlast those who underestimate us.”
The room fell silent. Even the harshest critics among the elders could not argue with Lady Yuwen’s wisdom.
Meanwhile, the younger generation of the Yuwen family had their own take on the matter. In one of the estate’s private gardens, a cluster of cousins and siblings gathered, their conversation far less formal.
“Modesty? Really?” one of Yuwen Yue’s younger cousins scoffed, tossing a pebble into a koi pond. “If it were me, I’d have sent a caravan of treasures. Maybe even a golden elephant.”
Another cousin smirked. “And that’s why it’s not you. You’d be broke in a week. Besides, I think it’s clever—especially including the sword. It shows they’re serious about more than just appearances.”
A third cousin, leaning lazily against a stone pillar, chimed in, “I heard Chu Qiao picked the sword herself. Makes sense. She’s not exactly the tiara-wearing type.”
The group laughed, their playful banter revealing a mix of respect and curiosity for the unconventional bride who had managed to capture Yuwen Yue’s attention—and apparently, his loyalty.
Among the servants of the Yuwen household, the dowry was a source of endless speculation. They whispered as they went about their duties, their voices low but animated.
“Did you see the pendant?” one maid asked another as they polished the grand dining hall’s silverware. “It’s so simple, but there’s something… meaningful about it.”
“Meaningful?” the other maid replied. “It’s probably just sentimental. The real treasure is the sword. They say it’s sharp enough to cut through steel.”
A nearby butler, overhearing their chatter, interjected with a faint smile. “And sharp enough to remind anyone who doubts Lady Chu Qiao’s strength that she’s no ordinary bride.”
As the household debated, whispered, and speculated, Yuwen Yue remained characteristically composed. Sitting in his private study, he read through a report on the political ripples caused by the dowry announcement, his expression as unreadable as ever. The faint sound of the household’s bustling activity reached him, but he paid it no mind.
Chu Qiao entered quietly, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “Your family is having a collective meltdown over a chest of treasures and a sword.”
Without looking up, Yuwen Yue replied, “Let them. They need something to do.”
She chuckled, stepping closer. “You really don’t care, do you?”
He finally looked at her, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Care? I orchestrated it. A simple dowry forces everyone to think, and when they’re thinking, they’re too busy to act.”
Chu Qiao tilted her head, watching him. “And here I thought you were just being modest.”
“Modesty,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “is just another weapon. And as you’ve seen, I’m very good at using weapons.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Your family might not survive you.”
“They’ll survive,” he said with a faint smile. “But only because they have no choice.”
As the day unfolded, the Yuwen household buzzed with debate, intrigue, and admiration. The dowry, modest though it seemed, had achieved its purpose: it had made a statement. It was not wealth or extravagance that defined the union between Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao—it was strategy, strength, and an unshakable alliance. And for the Yuwen family, it was a reminder that their legacy was not built on appearances but on the quiet, deliberate moves that shaped the course of empires.
The dowry was more than just a gift. It was a symbol of a new chapter—one that promised to be as unconventional, calculated, and powerful as the couple at its center.
A Procession of Unity and Grandeur
The marriage of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao was not merely a union of two individuals but a historic moment of reconciliation and cooperation across fractured realms. To mark the occasion, an unprecedented parade of dowries was organized, spanning empires and symbolizing alliances forged in blood, sacrifice, and shared hope.
The grand parade wound its way through the streets of Qinghai’s capital, a spectacle of opulence and cultural pride that drew throngs of spectators from near and far. The dowries from the Wei Empire, Qinghai, the Yuwen household, and Yanbei moved in elaborate caravans, each reflecting the distinct beauty and heritage of the realms they represented.
The dowries of the Wei Empire arrived in a magnificent procession, led by dignified envoys adorned with banners of gold and crimson that fluttered vibrantly against a cloudless sky. The resonant call of trumpeters heralded their arrival, their fanfare echoing through the city and captivating all who heard it. The procession displayed treasures of unparalleled splendor, each piece a testament to the wealth, artistry, and goodwill of the Wei Empire. Gilded palanquins carried chests brimming with gold ingots, lustrous pearls, and intricately carved jade masterpieces, reflecting the supreme craftsmanship of Wei’s artisans. Majestic elephants, draped in richly embroidered tapestries, carried rolls of silk so fine they shimmered like liquid sunlight. The fabric’s exquisite patterns narrated tales of Wei’s illustrious history, offering blessings of prosperity and harmony. A troupe of court musicians followed, their flutes and lutes filling the air with joyful melodies, symbolizing the Emperor’s earnest wishes for a marriage founded on unity and happiness.
At the helm of this splendid delegation stood the Emperor’s most trusted envoy, whose presence added weight to the occasion. Behind him marched soldiers in ceremonial armor, their polished helmets gleaming under the sun—a proud emblem of Wei’s unwavering dedication to peace and stability, maintained under the wise stewardship of Yuwen Yue. This lavish procession, rich in symbolism and grandeur, exemplified not only the power and generosity of the Wei Empire but also their profound wishes for harmony and prosperity to bless this momentous union.
When Emperor Xiao Ce of Liang decided to send dowries for Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue’s union, subtlety was never in question. Renowned for his flair for the extravagant and his love for leaving a lasting impression, Xiao Ce ensured that his gifts were as grand and theatrical as his own personality. From breathtaking treasures to deeply meaningful personal touches, the dowries were not mere offerings but a statement—a dazzling performance, as only Xiao Ce could deliver. And, as he was quick to remind anyone within earshot, these were Liang dowries, which, in his words, meant they were superior in every conceivable way.
The procession itself was a march of unparalleled splendor, transforming the streets of Qinghai into a scene of vibrant festivity. Liang’s royal orchestra led the way, flutes trilling and drums pounding in a rhythm so precise that it felt like they had rehearsed for weeks with the sole purpose of impressing onlookers. At the head of the parade marched the royal guards, clad in ceremonial armor adorned with dragon motifs, their polished halberds catching the sunlight and casting dazzling reflections. Crimson banners embroidered with golden dragons fluttered dramatically behind them, as though choreographed for maximum impact. The treasures followed in gilded carriages so opulent that even the horses pulling them seemed to carry an air of superiority. Naturally, Xiao Ce had sent the orchestra along to accompany the treasures because, as he put it, “What’s the point of sending gifts if they don’t arrive to a standing ovation?”
At the heart of the dowries was the Golden Phoenix Crown, a masterpiece crafted by Liang’s most skilled artisans. Made of pure gold and adorned with pearls and jade, the crown shimmered with an otherworldly glow, symbolizing Chu Qiao’s strength and dignity. It came with equally dazzling accessories: a jade phoenix pendant, sapphire-encrusted earrings, and a golden belt. Xiao Ce couldn’t resist adding his own commentary, recalling, “It reminds me of when she first arrived in Liang and practically set the place on fire with her temper. The phoenix is fitting, don’t you think?” The crowd, dazzled by the sheer brilliance of the crown, murmured in admiration, one onlooker whispering, “Is this a dowry or an attempt to outshine the sun?”
Liang’s famed silks, another highlight of the dowries, arrived in carriages as lavishly decorated as the treasures they carried. Each roll of silk bore intricate designs, from phoenixes and dragons to battle scenes so vivid they seemed to move with the fabric. Xiao Ce, ever the entertainer, quipped, “Chu Qiao could probably make a tent out of these silks and still look regal. But Yuwen Yue better not get any ideas about using them as dust rags—they’re works of art.”
Adding to the extravagance was the Eternal Flame Chest, a translucent jade box filled with rare perfumes, incense, and oils sourced from Liang’s farthest provinces. This gift, symbolizing warmth, harmony, and enduring love, was accompanied by one of Xiao Ce’s signature jabs: “Given how icy Yuwen Yue can be, they’ll probably need this chest to keep their marriage warm.” The caravan also included exotic spices, aged teas, and delicacies prepared by Liang’s royal chefs, with Xiao Ce personally sending a chef along to ensure the quality of future meals, joking, “Let’s just say this chef’s job is to save lives, one meal at a time.”
Two jet-black stallions, bred in Liang’s Western Grasslands and known for their speed and endurance, were presented as symbols of strength and freedom. Xiao Ce couldn’t help but add, “Perfect for Chu Qiao, because if Yuwen Yue ever annoys her, she’ll need a fast getaway.” The crowning jewel of the dowries was the Heavenly Bell of Liang, a bronze bell etched with phoenix and lotus motifs, blessed by monks, and transported on a golden cart while chanting monks accompanied it. Meant to bring balance and harmony, Xiao Ce quipped, “Its tones will bring peace—or, at the very least, drown out the sound of their arguments.”
When the dowries reached Qinghai’s palace, Xiao Ce himself arrived, dressed in his finest crimson and gold robes, to deliver them with characteristic charm. Addressing the court, he declared, “Today, I present these treasures not just as a ruler of Liang but as a friend—and a particularly generous one at that. Chu Qiao, you were once my greatest challenge and my most entertaining companion. There were days I wasn’t sure if you were saving Liang or trying to overthrow it. But I always knew your strength and wisdom were unparalleled. Yuwen Yue, you’ve somehow managed to win her heart, which makes you either a genius or the bravest man alive. May these gifts remind you both of Liang’s unwavering support—and of my exceptional taste.”
The dowries were more than a showcase of Liang’s wealth and culture; they carried Xiao Ce’s humor, charm, and genuine affection for Chu Qiao and her new chapter with Yuwen Yue. As the tones of the Heavenly Bell rang out across the palace, its resonance seemed to echo the sentiment of the moment: a celebration of love, unity, and Xiao Ce’s inimitable ability to steal the spotlight. Before departing, Xiao Ce leaned close to Chu Qiao, his signature smirk firmly in place, and whispered, “No matter how perfect your life in Qinghai becomes, you’ll always owe Liang—for its silk, its spices, and, of course, my friendship.”
Far from the bustling streets of Qinghai and the grandeur of Emperor Xiao Ce’s procession, Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue observed the spectacle from a secluded vantage point in the distant Qinghai Tower. The scene below was a kaleidoscope of Liang’s vibrant banners, gilded carriages, and disciplined royal guards moving in perfect harmony. Yet, the atmosphere around the couple was markedly different—quiet, contemplative, and laced with subtle humor.
Chu Qiao, ever the pragmatic warrior with a sharp eye for theatrics, watched the procession unfold with a mixture of awe and bemusement. Seated on a low stone ledge, her arms crossed casually over her knees, she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at the sight of crimson banners adorned with golden dragons fluttering in rhythm with the marching guards.
“Does he always need to remind the world he’s Emperor of Liang?” she asked, her voice carrying a tone of affectionate sarcasm. “Or is this just his way of saying he misses me?”
Her gaze lingered on the Golden Phoenix Crown, shimmering atop its gilded palanquin. “A crown,” she mused, shaking her head with a wry smile. “What am I supposed to do with that? Wear it while tending to the horses?”
Her amusement deepened as she spotted the Eternal Flame Chest being paraded with great care. “Perfumes and incense? Yuwen Yue, do you think Xiao Ce imagines me lounging around, burning rare oils while reading poetry?”
But beneath her playful tone was a warmth that softened her sharp edges. She knew these gifts, as extravagant as they were, carried genuine affection and respect. “Only Xiao Ce,” she murmured, her smile growing wider. “He always did have a flair for the dramatic.”
Yuwen Yue stood beside her, arms crossed, his expression stoic as always. His sharp eyes scanned the scene below, taking in the precise movements of Liang’s royal guards and the intricately adorned carriages. Though his face betrayed little, the faintest quirk at the corner of his lips suggested he was not entirely immune to the spectacle.
“Impressive,” he said, his tone dry but tinged with subtle humor. “But then again, Xiao Ce always did like to make an entrance.”
He gestured toward the stallions from the Western Grasslands, their glossy black coats gleaming even from a distance. “At least those are practical,” he remarked, his voice laced with understated approval. “Strong, fast. They’ll be useful.”
As his gaze shifted to the Heavenly Bell, accompanied by chanting monks, he allowed himself a rare chuckle. “A bell? I suppose Xiao Ce thinks we’ll spend our days meditating in the garden.”
His amusement, though quiet, mirrored Chu Qiao’s. But there was also a flicker of respect in his eyes—a recognition of the thoughtfulness behind the treasures, no matter how over-the-top the presentation.
As the procession reached the palace gates, Chu Qiao leaned back, resting on her elbows, and glanced at Yuwen Yue. “He’s done it again,” she said with a grin. “Managed to turn a simple dowry into a spectacle that will be talked about for years.”
Yuwen Yue, his expression softening ever so slightly, nodded. “That’s Xiao Ce for you. Subtlety isn’t in his vocabulary.”
The two sat in silence for a moment, the distant sounds of the procession faintly echoing up the hillside. The breeze rustled the grass around them, carrying with it the faint scent of Qinghai’s spring blossoms. It was a rare, peaceful moment, far removed from the chaos and grandeur below.
Chu Qiao broke the quiet, her tone playful yet sincere. “He may be insufferable sometimes, but he has a good heart. These gifts… they mean something.”
Yuwen Yue glanced at her, his usual stoicism giving way to a softer expression. “They do,” he agreed. “Even the bell.”
Their laughter, quiet and shared, mingled with the wind, a moment of connection that reflected the bond they had built through battles, losses, and triumphs. From their distant vantage point, they saw not just a grand display, but the care and loyalty of an old friend who expressed his affection in the only way he knew how—boldly, extravagantly, and undeniably Xiao Ce.
Yan Xun as her Lover and to his bestfriend Yuwen Yue
Another caravan parade arrived, and Chu Qiao knew the moment she saw it. She ran toward the edge of the tower’s railing, extending her neck slightly like a child, eager to catch sight of the Black Hawk banners and flags. Yuwen Yue held his breath and let out a sigh. This time, he allowed the moment to happen, for he knew that Yan Xun recognized that Chu Qiao could never be what he had hoped her to be.
The dowries sent by Yan Xun, the noble yet rebellious ruler of Yanbei, to Chu Qiao for her union with Yuwen Yue were far more than ceremonial gifts. They were deeply symbolic, reflecting the shared history, struggles, and unspoken bond between two individuals who had endured countless trials together. Each offering carried the indomitable spirit of Yanbei—resilient, fierce, and rooted in the ideals of freedom and loyalty. Yanbei’s procession was marked by solemn splendor, devoid of extravagant pomp but rich in meaning. The warriors leading the dowries wore red and black ceremonial robes adorned with Yanbei’s sigil—a soaring hawk, symbolizing freedom and vigilance. At the forefront, the Hawk Banner, carried by Yanbei’s most decorated soldier, flew high as a solemn blessing for Chu Qiao’s union. Shadow guards, marching in silence, served as a reminder of Yanbei’s enduring values and its unwavering oath to protect its homeland. The atmosphere of the procession was quiet yet profound, resonating with sincerity and purpose.
The dowries themselves carried the heart of Yanbei in every gift. At the center was a ceremonial blade, forged by Yanbei’s master blacksmiths, with a crimson leather-wrapped hilt and the hawk of Yanbei etched into its gleaming edge. This blade symbolized trust, strength, and the unyielding resolve to fight for freedom and justice—qualities that defined both Yanbei and Chu Qiao. Another striking gift was the Phoenix Cloak, crafted from rare crimson, gold, and orange feathers meticulously sewn onto velvet, creating a garment that shimmered like fire. This cloak represented rebirth, resilience, and Chu Qiao’s triumph over adversity. Yanbei’s famed horses, a jet-black stallion and a chestnut mare bred for speed and endurance, symbolized strength and freedom, as well as the hope for Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue to embark on a steadfast journey together.
Yanbei’s gifts also included scrolls chronicling its history, containing poems, battle strategies, and personal accounts from freedom fighters, each a tribute to Chu Qiao’s role in Yanbei’s legacy. The handwritten dedication from Yan Xun within the scrolls honored her contributions and ensured her story would be remembered for generations. Among the dowries was a unique Wheat Crown, a delicate golden circlet adorned with emeralds and designed to resemble stalks of wheat swaying in the wind, symbolizing abundance, fertility, and the hope for a peaceful future. To further tie Chu Qiao to the land she had once fought to protect, Yan Xun sent a living tribute: a collection of rare plants, seeds, and flowers from Yanbei. This included red hawthorn trees symbolizing resilience, golden lotus seeds representing enlightenment, and blooming snow roses that flourished in harsh winters, embodying hope and survival.
Yan Xun’s personal touches added a deeply emotional layer to the dowries. He included the Pendant of Freedom, a jade piece shaped like a soaring hawk, engraved with the words: “For freedom, we once bled. For love, we find peace.” This pendant was a poignant reminder of their shared past and a wish for Chu Qiao’s future happiness. Accompanying it was a handwritten letter in which Yan Xun expressed his gratitude, joy, and hopes for her future: “You were, and always will be, a part of Yanbei’s soul. Though you walk a different path now, know that Yanbei’s gates will forever be open to you. Your courage, your wisdom, and your compassion have left a mark on us all. May your union bring you the peace and love you so richly deserve.” Finally, Yan Xun included a chest of Yanbei’s finest wheat and rice, a practical gift that also served as a peace offering to Yuwen Yue and a message of goodwill, signifying Yanbei’s desire for unity and reconciliation with Qinghai.
As the Hawk Banner fluttered against the Qinghai sky and the dowries were presented with solemn care, the depth of Yan Xun’s intentions became clear. The gifts were not mere tokens of wealth; they were an extension of his heart and the spirit of Yanbei, reflecting shared ideals, cherished memories, and his unspoken emotions. While standing at a distance, Yan Xun watched the procession fade into the horizon, his dark eyes betraying the bittersweet acceptance he carried. Once, he had envisioned a different future—one where these gifts would have marked his union with Chu Qiao, where the blade of Yanbei and the phoenix cloak would have adorned his partner, not another’s wife. Yet time had offered him clarity, and he now understood that these dowries were not about binding Chu Qiao to the past but celebrating her freedom and honoring the legacy they shared.
In sending these dowries, Yan Xun found a way to thank Chu Qiao for the strength she had given him during his weakest moments, for the fire she had ignited in Yanbei, and for the hope she carried forward. The jade pendant engraved with the words of freedom and peace symbolized his reconciliation with their past and his blessings for her future. His handwritten letter, sealed with Yanbei’s crest, was his most vulnerable gift, expressing not just respect but the enduring connection between two kindred souls forged in fire and tempered by time. As the final echoes of the procession faded, Yan Xun stood alone, allowing himself one last moment to reflect on the woman who had been his comrade, confidante, and closest companion.
Turning away from the horizon, his crimson cloak billowing in the wind, Yan Xun walked back toward the heart of Yanbei, his steps steady and his resolve unbroken. The dowries were no longer just treasures—they were his way of saying goodbye with dignity, grace, and love. While their paths had diverged, the bond they had forged would endure, and as the hawk of Yanbei soared high above, it carried his silent blessing and a whispered wish for Chu Qiao’s happiness. Yan Xun had finally learned the true meaning of letting go—not as an act of loss, but as an expression of gratitude, respect, and liberation.
The Jianghu alliance’s offerings
The gifts presented by the Jianghu alliance, the Underworld Spies, and Lou He, Chu Qiao’s estranged yet formidable mother, were steeped in symbolism, blending tradition, skill, and reconciliation. Each offering reflected Chu Qiao’s journey, her connection to these factions, and their acknowledgment of her union with Yuwen Yue—a partnership that symbolized strength, unity, and transformation. The procession of the Jianghu and Underworld Spies was enigmatic and awe-inspiring, as cloaked figures moved silently through the streets of Qinghai, their commanding yet mysterious presence setting the tone for the treasures they brought. These gifts, deeply meaningful, demonstrated respect for Chu Qiao and pledged allegiance to her future with Yuwen Yue.
The Jianghu alliance’s offerings included the legendary Mirror Blade, a double-edged weapon polished to mirror perfection, symbolizing clarity, truth, and justice—qualities that Chu Qiao had upheld throughout her life. Yuwen Yue was presented with scrolls containing rare martial arts techniques, healing strategies, and philosophies of balance and discipline, reflecting the Jianghu’s admiration for his strategic brilliance. Chu Qiao also received a Cloak of Shadows, a lightweight garment woven from rare indigo-dyed threads that rendered the wearer nearly invisible, honoring her past as a spy. A handcrafted Phoenix Lantern, painted with vivid imagery of a phoenix rising from the ashes, projected its image when lit, symbolizing hope and resilience.
The Underworld Spies contributed equally striking gifts, including the Whispering Whip, a coiled steel weapon with an obsidian handle, symbolizing Chu Qiao’s adaptability and grace. Yuwen Yue received an obsidian amulet engraved with the spies’ emblem, signifying their loyalty and willingness to serve him. Additionally, they presented a Book of Secrets containing encrypted knowledge of alliances, betrayals, and secrets across the realms, trusting Yuwen Yue to wield its information wisely.
Lou He’s offerings were deeply personal and reflective of her complex relationship with Chu Qiao. Despite their estrangement, Lou He’s gifts carried profound meaning, including a jade pendant shaped like a lotus, an heirloom from their maternal lineage that symbolized purity and resilience. She also presented a silk banner embroidered with blessings for the couple, expressing wishes for strength in adversity, light in darkness, and unity in chaos. To Yuwen Yue, Lou He gifted the Shadow Fan, a folding weapon made of ebony and steel with sharp edges concealed within its intricate design, symbolizing her respect for his intellect and strength. Accompanying these gifts was a heartfelt letter to Chu Qiao, in which Lou He expressed pride in her daughter’s journey and joy for the union, bridging years of estrangement with words of love and reconciliation.
The collective offerings from the Jianghu, the Underworld Spies, and Lou He were as diverse as they were meaningful, reflecting Chu Qiao’s enduring legacy and the strength of her alliances. Each gift symbolized respect, admiration, and hope for her future with Yuwen Yue, while Lou He’s deeply personal contributions mended familial bonds and celebrated her daughter’s resilience. Together, these treasures stood as a testament to Chu Qiao’s profound impact and the transformative power of love and unity.
The Jianghu and Underworld Spies, along with Lou He, presented their gifts during an intimate gathering in the grand hall of Qinghai’s palace. Unlike the grandeur of the other dowry processions, this ceremony was steeped in solemnity and reverence, reflecting the deeply personal nature of their connection to Chu Qiao.
Lou He, dressed in flowing black robes embroidered with silver lotuses, stepped forward to personally hand the jade pendant to Chu Qiao. For a moment, mother and daughter exchanged a look heavy with unspoken words, a moment of tentative reconciliation that left many in attendance deeply moved.
The Jianghu and Underworld Spies, cloaked and masked, bowed silently as they laid their gifts before the couple, their presence a reminder of the loyalty and respect Chu Qiao had earned.
The gifts from the Jianghu alliance, Underworld Spies, and Lou He were more than offerings—they were symbols of trust, respect, and reconciliation. Each item carried layers of meaning, reflecting the depth of Chu Qiao’s relationships and the acknowledgment of her pivotal role in shaping their lives and alliances.
As the ceremony ended, the gifts stood as a testament to the enduring bonds Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue had forged across realms and factions, a union that brought together even the most fractured alliances in a shared hope for the future.
Silver Prince Caravans of Dowry
When Prince Ra Zheng, Yuwen Yue’s Qinghai brother, a loyal yet shrewd ally, and the formidable Invisible Spies presented their dowries for the union of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao, it was an event unlike any other. The gifts reflected their shadowy world and unwavering respect for the couple, blending practicality, artistry, and symbolism. Each offering was chosen to honor their loyalty and equip the couple for the challenges of their intertwined lives.
True to their enigmatic nature, the Invisible Spies’ procession was devoid of grand fanfare. Black-clad figures moved in disciplined rows, their robes blending seamlessly with the evening shadows, and their intricately designed masks hinting at individuality within their covert brotherhood. At the head of the procession, silent drummers played a low, rhythmic beat that resonated like a heartbeat, captivating the gathered crowd with its subtle yet commanding presence. Prince Ra Zheng, clad in black steel armor polished to a mirror sheen, arrived at the center of the formation, exuding authority and respect as he led the presentation of the dowries.
The centerpiece of Ra Zheng’s offerings was the Onyx Armor, a custom-forged masterpiece by the Invisible Spies’ master blacksmiths. Lightweight yet impenetrable, the armor was designed for maximum mobility while offering unparalleled protection, symbolizing strength and resilience in the face of adversity—qualities that defined Yuwen Yue. Complementing this was a pair of Moonlight Sabers, slender and deadly blades forged from a rare steel alloy that gleamed silver under the moonlight. Their intricate designs of swirling clouds and winds represented unity, symbolizing the couple’s bond as they faced challenges side by side.
For Chu Qiao, Ra Zheng presented the Nightingale’s Call, a compact wind instrument that mimicked bird calls but was also engineered for covert communication, a nod to her history as a spy and her strategic brilliance. Another extraordinary gift was the Map of Shadows, a detailed map of the empire etched onto an obsidian slate. Glowing faintly under moonlight, it revealed hidden routes, safe houses, and secret passages, representing the Invisible Spies’ trust and their offer of allegiance to aid the couple in times of need.
The Midnight Chest, a black lacquered container, held treasures chosen with care. Inside were vials of rare poisons and antidotes, encrypted journals detailing espionage tactics, and exquisite jewelry fashioned from black diamonds and moonstones. Each item symbolized the duality of elegance and danger, a reflection of the lives Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao led.
The Invisible Spies also brought their courtesies, pledging their loyalty through tools and oaths. In a solemn ceremony illuminated by flickering lanterns and moonlight, they performed the Oath of Shadows, kneeling as one to declare their allegiance to Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao: “In darkness, we serve; in silence, we strike; for the Crown Prince of Qinghai and the Master of the Eyes of God, our loyalty knows no bounds.” This oath formalized their commitment to supporting the couple in covert operations and intelligence gathering. Practical gifts like the Cloak of Night, a fabric that absorbed light to render the wearer nearly invisible, and the Ring of Disguise, capable of subtly altering the wearer’s appearance, further exemplified their ingenuity and acknowledgment of the couple’s strategic brilliance. The Black Hawk’s Banner, a striking emblem with a silver hawk, symbolized their ever-watchful presence and readiness to act.
The presentation ceremony, held in Qinghai’s grand hall, was a display of quiet elegance. Ra Zheng personally handed the Onyx Armor to Yuwen Yue and the Moonlight Sabers to Chu Qiao, bowing deeply in a rare gesture of respect. The Invisible Spies’ recitation of their oath charged the atmosphere with solemnity, marking the moment as one of great significance and mutual understanding.
The dowries and courtesies offered by Prince Ra Zheng and the Invisible Spies were not merely treasures but tools, pledges, and symbols of unwavering loyalty. Their gifts highlighted the depth of their allegiance and their belief in Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao’s strength as leaders. In this union, the Invisible Spies saw not only a partnership of love but a beacon of hope for a future built on strategy, unity, and resilience. The shadows of their loyalty would forever stand firmly alongside the enduring light of the couple’s bond.
Ra Zhun’s Mischief-Laden Display
Ra Zhun, the rebellious misfit of the Qinghai royal family, made an entrance as only he could—grandiose, irreverent, and laced with sarcasm. Known for his strained relationship with his elder brother, Yuwen Yue, whom he viewed as an infuriatingly perfect counterpart in his otherwise dramatic world, Ra Zhun’s decision to present dowries for Yuwen Yue’s union with Chu Qiao was as surprising as it was memorable. True to his unpredictable nature, Ra Zhun’s offerings were an elaborate mix of extravagance, wit, and subtle barbs, blending humor with moments of unexpected sincerity.
Ra Zhun’s procession was a spectacle tailored to his personality. Dressed in shimmering golden velvet robes, he led his delegation with theatrical flair. His attendants wore flamboyant crimson and black robes with exaggerated collars and glittering masks, resembling actors in a lavish production. The musicians played chaotic rhythms of flutes and drums, improvising a cacophony that somehow remained captivating. The banners trailing behind them bore Qinghai’s hawk emblem—modified with a winking eye, a cheeky jab at tradition. As the procession reached the palace gates, Ra Zhun raised a gloved hand and called out, “Behold, the benevolent offerings of your beloved black sheep! A small token of my eternal affection for dear brother Yue.” His sarcasm elicited nervous laughter from the gathered crowd, who were unsure whether to take him seriously.
The dowries Ra Zhun presented were equally audacious, blending opulence with irony. The centerpiece was the Golden Mirror of Reflection, a massive ornate mirror with phoenixes and dragons engraved into its golden frame. At the base, an inscription read, “To remind you to always reflect on your perfection, dear brother,” delivering Ra Zhun’s trademark sarcasm. Another notable gift was the Cloak of Midnight, a stunning black silk cloak embroidered with constellations mapping Qinghai’s skies. At its hem, wolves chased a hawk—a playful nod to their sibling rivalry. A set of sapphire-encrusted goblets accompanied by Qinghai’s finest aged wine was another offering, complete with a note that read, “To toast to all your successes—and drown all your annoyances. Cheers, Brother.” Ra Zhun also unveiled a life-sized silver stag statue, its antlers tipped with gold and its emerald eyes gleaming. Presenting it, he quipped, “A tribute to the steadfastness of my brother—though I imagine you’ll use it to terrify guests in your garden.” Rounding out the collection was a velvet cushion embroidered with the words, “For your throne—or your ego. Use wisely,” a playful yet pointed jab at Yuwen Yue’s composed and reserved demeanor.
As the dowries were displayed, Ra Zhun stepped forward with dramatic flair to address the court. “My dearest brother, Yuwen Yue, the crown prince of Qinghai, the shining star of our family,” he began, his voice dripping with mock reverence. “And, of course, the indomitable Chu Qiao, who, frankly, I respect far more than him.” Nervous laughter rippled through the audience as he continued, “These humble offerings are my way of saying thank you—for tolerating me, for outshining me, and for reminding me daily that perfection truly is a burden. You carry it so well, Yue.” Just as the court braced for another jest, his tone softened unexpectedly. “In all seriousness,” he said, his voice steady and sincere, “I admire what you two have built. Yue, you’ve always been the steady hand, the unshakable foundation, while Chu Qiao… you are the fire that keeps the cold at bay. Together, you are formidable. And though I will never admit it again, I am proud to call you my brother.”
Ra Zhun’s dowries were an extravagant mix of humor and sincerity, mirroring his complicated relationships with Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao. Beneath the sarcasm and theatrics lay genuine affection for his brother and a grudging respect for the union they had formed. His gifts, though laced with irony, carried deeper meanings—acknowledging their unbreakable bond and wishing them happiness cloaked in humor but rooted in love. As the golden mirror gleamed and the silver stag stood tall, Ra Zhun’s dowries became more than just treasures; they were a testament to the familial ties that, while imperfect, remained steadfast. His irreverent tribute reminded everyone that even a black sheep has a role to play—and sometimes, that role is to show love through laughter and mischief, hiding a heart full of unspoken gratitude beneath a smirk.
The Black Sun Pirates’ Arrival
Black Sun Pirate Mo’er and Princess Huan Huan’s gifts reflected their enigmatic yet pivotal roles in the lives of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao. Rooted in the daring spirit of the Black Sun pirates and the serene wisdom of Princess Huan Huan, each offering was as symbolic as it was practical. Together, their contributions celebrated loyalty, freedom, and resilience, blending their unique perspectives into a tribute that honored the couple’s profound journey.
The Black Sun pirates arrived in dramatic fashion, embodying their untamed maritime heritage. Their ships, adorned with black sails embroidered with golden sunbursts, docked in Qinghai’s main harbor, drawing an awestruck crowd. Mo’er, clad in a captain’s coat intricately embroidered with silver waves, led the procession with his crew, who wore flowing black coats accented with gold stitching. The pirates carried crates and chests brimming with treasures, their swagger a testament to their seafaring confidence. The procession radiated untamed energy, with Mo’er at its helm, embodying the commanding presence of the sea itself.
Mo’er’s gifts blended resourcefulness and symbolism. Leading the offerings was the Compass of Eternal Winds, a flawless gold-plated navigational tool inlaid with emeralds, said to always guide its bearer to safety. The compass symbolized resilience and the determination to navigate life’s storms. To Yuwen Yue, Mo’er presented the Black Sun Spyglass, a handcrafted ebony instrument with crystal lenses offering unparalleled clarity—a tribute to Yuwen Yue’s foresight and strategic brilliance.
A Treasure Chest of Rare Goods followed, overflowing with exotic spices, rich silks, and rare gemstones collected from distant lands, representing the wealth and potential of the sea. The Black Sun Flag, a small replica embroidered in gold and silver, symbolized the pirates’ loyalty to Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao, while the Maritime Phoenix Amulet, carved from mother-of-pearl, was gifted to Chu Qiao as a token of rebirth and freedom.
Princess Huan Huan’s arrival embodied serene elegance. Traveling in a silk-draped palanquin accompanied by attendants in soft blue and silver, her procession exuded peace and quiet strength. Her gifts, chosen with profound thought, reflected her belief in balance and introspection. At the center was the Celestial Mirror, a polished silver artifact set in an ornate jade frame, said to reveal not just one’s appearance but their true self, encouraging clarity of purpose.
To complement this, Huan Huan presented the Lotus Scroll of Harmony, an illustrated depiction of blooming lotuses alongside philosophical teachings on balance and resilience. The Azure Crane Silk, dyed in shades of blue and white to resemble crane feathers, was a blessing for Chu Qiao’s longevity and loyalty. Finally, the Frosted Teardrop Gem, a tear-shaped stone of icy clarity, symbolized strength in vulnerability and purity of heart. Huan Huan’s final offering, a handwritten letter folded in lotus-petal paper, conveyed her wishes for the couple’s unity and hope for a harmonious future.
The presentation ceremony, held at sunset by the harbor, reflected the unique spirits of Mo’er and Huan Huan. The Black Sun ships provided a dramatic backdrop as the glistening waters mirrored the fading sunlight. Mo’er, ever bold, handed the Compass of Eternal Winds to Yuwen Yue, declaring, “This compass points to safety, but in your hands, it will point to victory.” Presenting the Maritime Phoenix Amulet to Chu Qiao, he added with a grin, “Freedom suits you, my lady. May you always fly high.”
Huan Huan, poised and tranquil, offered the Celestial Mirror to Chu Qiao, saying, “May this guide you to see not just who you are but all you are capable of becoming.” To Yuwen Yue, she gave the Frosted Teardrop Gem with the quiet blessing, “Strength lies in knowing when to fight and when to reflect. May this guide your heart.”
Mo’er considers Chu Qiao his aunt or eldest sister and Yuwen Yue his uncle. His story is rooted in his noble lineage as an aristocratic member of the Yanbei families, specifically the Ouyang clan, which was closely tied to the Liu Xi clan. Both families had significant connections to Yan Xun and General Cheng Yuan, but they were annihilated during a devastating purge. Mo’er was the sole surviving bloodline of his family.
In his early childhood, Mo’er witnessed the massacre of his family but was miraculously rescued by Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao. On that fateful day, Yan Xun allowed them to escape without revealing his identity. Cloaked and enigmatic, he let them go, his reasons shrouded in mystery. Yuwen Yue, however, already suspected the man behind the disguise. Yan Xun’s mannerisms and personality, reminiscent of Liu Xi, had tipped him off, though no confirmation was ever made.
Princess Huan Huan is the beneficiary of Datong and the sole surviving blood relative of Yan Xun. Her lineage connects her to one of Yanbei’s most prominent families, further amplifying her importance. Beyond her noble heritage, she held a deeply significant place in the life of Wu Dao Ya, who regarded her as his most treasured possession—a symbol of hope and continuity amid the chaos that had befallen Yanbei.
The gifts from Mo’er and Huan Huan encapsulated the essence of their identities—Mo’er’s adventurous spirit and Huan Huan’s introspective wisdom. Together, their offerings honored not only Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao as leaders but also as individuals who had endured immense trials. Each item was imbued with deep meaning, serving as a reminder of the bonds forged through shared struggles and triumphs. These were not mere treasures but enduring symbols of loyalty, admiration, and the freedom and balance they wished for the couple’s future.
Seventh Prince of Wei Gifts
Yuan Che, the seventh prince of Wei, renowned for his wisdom and pragmatism, presented dowries that epitomized his respect and admiration for Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao. His offerings were elegant and practical, infused with layers of symbolism that reflected both the grandeur of Wei’s royal heritage and his personal regard for the couple. Each item was carefully chosen to support their union while strengthening the enduring ties between Wei and Qinghai.
The procession delivering Yuan Che’s dowries was understated yet regal, reflecting the prince’s thoughtful character. His delegation, clad in deep blue and gold robes, marched in disciplined formation, carrying treasures in ornately crafted carriages. The imperial banners of Wei fluttered in the breeze, borne by Yuan Che’s personal guards, while a small group of court musicians played a serene melody that evoked harmony and prosperity. Yuan Che himself rode at the head of the procession on a white horse, his calm demeanor and composed presence setting the tone for the event.
At the center of Yuan Che’s dowries was the Golden Harmony Bell, an artifact from Wei’s royal archives. Made of pure gold and intricately carved with dragons and phoenixes in flight, the bell produced a chime said to soothe hearts and promote peace. It symbolized unity and harmony, blessings Yuan Che wished upon Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao’s marriage. For Chu Qiao, Yuan Che presented the Silk of Celestial Waters, a bolt of shimmering silk dyed in hues of blue and silver to resemble rippling water under moonlight. This exquisite fabric, as light as air yet remarkably durable, symbolized resilience and adaptability—qualities Yuan Che deeply admired in her.
To honor Yuwen Yue’s intellect, Yuan Che offered the Scholar’s Treasury, a collection of ancient books and scrolls from Wei’s royal library. These texts included strategic treatises, philosophical writings, and historical records, underscoring Yuan Che’s belief in the power of wisdom to guide leadership. Adding to this, Yuan Che gifted Yuwen Yue the Crown Prince’s Seal, an honorary emblem carved from jade and depicting a coiled dragon clutching a pearl. The seal symbolized trust and alliance, signifying Yuan Che’s confidence in Yuwen Yue’s integrity and honor.
Yuan Che’s offerings also included the Eternal Flame Lantern, a translucent jade and gold artifact housing a perpetually burning flame, symbolizing enduring hope and guidance. A pair of Imperial Falcons, bred in Wei’s royal aviaries, were gifted to represent loyalty, strength, and sharp vision—qualities he hoped would define the couple’s partnership. For Chu Qiao, Yuan Che presented the Sapphire Lotus Crown, a delicate white gold diadem adorned with sapphire lotuses and pearls. This crown symbolized purity and enlightenment, acknowledging Chu Qiao’s role as a guiding light and a symbol of resilience.
Adding a personal touch, Yuan Che included a handwritten letter addressed to both Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao. In it, he praised Yuwen Yue’s honor and vision, while commending Chu Qiao’s courage and ability to inspire. He also presented a Jade Phoenix and Dragon Sculpture, a depiction of the two mythical creatures intertwined, symbolizing balance and unity in their union. Another unique offering was the Starry Night Chest, filled with small, sparkling jewels resembling constellations, representing limitless possibilities and a bright future.
The dowries were presented during a serene evening ceremony in Qinghai’s palace courtyard, illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns. Yuan Che’s speech was concise yet heartfelt: “To Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao: Your union is a testament to strength and hope. These gifts are but a humble offering from Wei, a token of our trust, respect, and belief in the brighter future you both represent.” Presenting the Sapphire Lotus Crown to Chu Qiao, he added with a warm smile, “A crown for the woman who has proven herself a true queen in spirit, if not in title.” To Yuwen Yue, as he handed over the Crown Prince’s Seal, Yuan Che said, “May this seal remind you that trust is a treasure earned, and you have my trust in abundance.”
Yuan Che’s dowries combined intellectual treasures, symbolic artifacts, and personal gestures, highlighting his deep respect for the couple and his hopes for their future. Each item carried profound meaning, representing unity, wisdom, resilience, and strength. His thoughtful offerings not only honored the union of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao but also strengthened the bonds between Wei and Qinghai, underscoring his belief in their ability to lead with compassion and intelligence.
The Newly Crowned Prince of Wei
Yuan Yang, the third prince of Wei and newly selected Crown Prince, presented dowries that reflected his calculated pragmatism and strategic foresight. Neither an ally nor an adversary to Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao, Yuan Yang’s offerings were designed to leave a lasting impression and lay the groundwork for potential collaboration. Centered on bolstering Qinghai’s naval strength and leveraging Wei’s black market network, the dowries underscored Yuan Yang’s intent to position himself as an indispensable partner while maintaining his influence.
The procession delivering Yuan Yang’s dowries mirrored his disciplined and commanding personality. Wei’s naval officers, clad in navy blue and silver dress uniforms adorned with maritime insignias, led the procession with precision. Carriages of polished oak reinforced with steel carried the treasures, exuding durability and practicality. Accompanied by the rhythmic beat of naval drums, the delegation moved through Qinghai with understated elegance. Yuan Yang himself, dressed in a dark blue cloak embroidered with silver waves, rode at the head of the delegation on horseback, a commanding figure whose demeanor exuded authority and control.
At the heart of Yuan Yang’s dowries was a fully outfitted naval fleet designed to bolster Qinghai’s maritime defenses and expand its influence. This fleet, consisting of five state-of-the-art warships and agile patrol vessels, symbolized Yuan Yang’s recognition of Qinghai’s strategic importance in both trade and warfare. Complementing this was the Black Market Accord, a charter granting Qinghai controlled access to Wei’s shadow network of trade routes and resources. The accord represented both an opportunity and a potential point of leverage, solidifying Yuan Yang’s role as a gatekeeper to these covert dealings. Further cementing the naval theme, Yuan Yang presented the Obsidian Trident, a ceremonial weapon forged from polished obsidian and silver, symbolizing maritime command and acknowledging Yuwen Yue’s leadership.
Other gifts highlighted Yuan Yang’s emphasis on maritime strategy and wealth. The Map of Shadow Routes, meticulously annotated with clandestine sea paths and hidden trade hubs, offered Qinghai access to covert knowledge essential for naval dominance. The Coffer of Maritime Wealth, filled with exotic goods such as rare spices, aquamarines, pearls, and weaponry, symbolized the prosperity that could arise from a strong naval alliance. The Midnight Lantern, a sophisticated navigation tool crafted from blackened steel and crystal, represented vigilance and guidance—qualities Yuan Yang believed would serve Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao in their leadership.
Adding personal touches, Yuan Yang gifted Yuwen Yue the Admiral’s Ring, a silver artifact engraved with Wei’s naval crest, symbolizing authority and a shared interest in maritime governance. For Chu Qiao, he presented the Sapphire Wave Pendant, an ornament adorned with sapphires and shaped like a crashing wave, symbolizing her resilience and adaptability. His handwritten letter to the couple expressed subtle strategic intent, commending Yuwen Yue’s strength and leadership while praising Chu Qiao’s transformative nature and determination. These personal offerings were gestures of respect, designed to foster goodwill and mutual understanding.
The presentation ceremony, held at Qinghai’s main harbor, used Yuan Yang’s fleet as a dramatic backdrop to emphasize the significance of his gifts. Addressing Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao, Yuan Yang spoke with calculated charm: “Qinghai stands at the crossroads of opportunity and influence. These gifts are not just offerings; they are tools to strengthen your dominion over the seas and ensure prosperity for generations to come. May they also serve as a reminder that Wei and Qinghai, though separate, share currents that flow toward mutual destiny.” Handing the Obsidian Trident to Yuwen Yue, Yuan Yang remarked, “This trident is a symbol of command—may it guide your hand in safeguarding these waters.” Presenting the Sapphire Wave Pendant to Chu Qiao, he added, “The sea, like you, adapts, persists, and reshapes the world. May this remind you of your own power.”
Yuan Yang’s dowries were a masterclass in calculated generosity, blending pragmatic utility with subtle strategic intent. By offering naval strength, black market access, and symbolic artifacts, Yuan Yang positioned Wei as an indispensable partner in Qinghai’s future while securing his own influence over the burgeoning realm. These gifts ensured that Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao would view Wei as a vital ally in their journey, leaving a lasting impression and creating a foundation for future collaboration and mutual benefit.
The Procession Highlights from 3rd Branch of Yuwen Household
If anyone could turn a solemn and meaningful ceremony into a bizarre spectacle, it was none other than Yuwen Huai—the self-proclaimed “Dork Master” of the Yuwen household. Known for his flamboyant personality, questionable humor, and an unsettling obsession with the past, Yuwen Huai decided that his contribution to Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao’s wedding would reflect his, shall we say, “distinctive” flair, fresh from Yuwen Household’s Torture Slave Chambers. When the caravan after caravan rolled into Qinghai’s capital, the crowd was abuzz with anticipation, only for their excitement to evaporate into awkward laughter as they realized the contents of these regal-looking carriages.
Yuwen Huai’s dowries made an entrance as grandiose as the man himself. His caravan was heralded by a drums and jingling bells, pompous fanfare, and overly enthusiastic drummers—none of which could distract from the fact that the treasures within were far from, well, normal.
Carriages of Questionable Cargo: Dozens of lavishly adorned carriages rolled through the streets, their exteriors promising splendor while their interiors… did not. The golden banners bearing the Yuwen household crest flapped gallantly, failing to distract from the unsettling squeaks and clanking noises coming from inside. (LOL) A Parade of Oddities: The procession included a small army of grim-faced servants, each carrying bundles of what looked suspiciously like torture tools. Their attempts to appear dignified were betrayed by the awkward side-eyes they exchanged.(LOL)
Yuwen Huai himself brought up the rear, seated atop an ornate sedan chair, grinning ear to ear and waving like a conquering hero. Clad in robes that were just a bit too shiny for anyone’s comfort, he looked like he’d walked straight out of a comedy sketch.
The Chamber of Screams Starter Kit
Yuwen Huai’s crowning “masterpiece” was a full set of torture implements—yes, you read that right. Polished to perfection and arranged with an alarming sense of pride, the collection was housed in an imposing chest.
Contents: Iron chains, thumb screws, spiked collars, and other charming tools one might expect to find in a medieval dungeon. Yuwen Huai’s Remark: “Ah, cousin Yue, remember these beauties? We made quite the racket back in the Jile Pavilion days, didn’t we?” He followed this up with a dorky laugh and an exaggerated nudge, leaving Yuwen Yue visibly cringing. Sarcastic Symbolism: Yuwen Huai declared these items to be “symbols of discipline and family legacy,” conveniently ignoring the fact that his audience was now too busy stifling awkward coughs to react. (LOL)
Throne of Torment
Next came an ornate chair—well, “chair” might be generous—adorned with spikes, restraints, and suspiciously sharp edges. It was wheeled into the courtyard with great ceremony, though the crowd seemed unsure whether to clap or call for the guards.
Huai’s Pitch: “A perfect seat for contemplating life’s tougher questions,” Yuwen Huai quipped with a wink. “Just be careful where you sit.” Yuwen Yue’s Reaction: Yue offered a strained smile that seemed to say, “Please make it stop,” while Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow that could have sent anyone but Yuwen Huai fleeing.
Gong of Guilt
A massive gong was unveiled, its surface etched with ominous figures that might have been dragons—or prisoners; it was hard to tell. When struck, it emitted a sound somewhere between a thunderclap and a particularly aggressive sigh.
Functionality: “To summon, announce, or simply terrify,” Yuwen Huai explained, his grin widening. Audience Reaction: A monk in the crowd was seen pinching the bridge of his nose, muttering something about lost serenity.
Memorabilia of Jile Pavilion Keepsakes
Perhaps the most puzzling (and infuriating) offering was a collection of items “rescued” from the infamous Jile Pavilion, where Yuwen Huai had spent much of his time tormenting Xinger (Chu Qiao’s former identity as a slave).
Contents: Broken chains, splinters of shattered whips, and a plaque inscribed with “Yuwen Huai’s Rules: Obey or Else.” sounds like Yuwen Yue’s Rules in the Greenhills courtyard: Slaves Obeys, Illegal Channels.” (LOL) Yuwen Huai’s Commentary: “Xinger—uh, I mean Chu Qiao—remember these? Good times, eh?” He accompanied this with a truly dorky smile, completely unaware of the icy glare Chu Qiao shot in his direction. Yuwen Yue’s Response: Yuwen Yue’s awkward cough and rigid posture said Huai: “Take these back we will never install Jile Pavilion here.” Yuwen Huai responded: Oh! I thought its a family legacy, where would I stay if I come visit my future nephews?
Yuwen Huai delivered his gifts with a showman’s flourish, standing proudly before Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao.
“Dearest cousin Yuwen Yue and Lady Chu Qiao,” he began, his voice dripping with exaggerated sincerity. “I present to you the finest treasures the Yuwen household has to offer! May these symbols of discipline and innovation serve you well in your new life together. And Chu Qiao, let us never forget how far you’ve come since your, ahem, humble beginnings in our household!”
His speech was met with scattered, nervous applause and a not-so-subtle glare from Chu Qiao, who looked like she was contemplating where to hide one of the Shadow Daggers she’d just received from Xiao Yu. Yuwen Yue, caught between mortification and familial duty, mustered a thin smile as Yuwen Huai gave him an overly enthusiastic clap on the back, followed by a dorky thumbs-up.
As the presentation wrapped up, Yuwen Huai leaned toward Yuwen Yue with a conspiratorial smirk. “Remember, cousin,” he whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear, “no matter how far you rise, you’ll always have the Yuwen household—and me, of course—to keep you grounded!” He punctuated this remark with his signature awkward grin, oblivious to the collective sigh of relief as he finally retreated.
Yuwen Huai’s dowries were a bizarre mix of theatrics, nostalgia, and a touch of sadistic flair that left everyone feeling a little bewildered. His collection of torture implements and memorabilia from Chu Qiao’s painful past turned what should have been a celebration into a comedic train wreck. While his dorky antics and misplaced humor brought some unintended levity, they also reminded everyone that, for better or worse, Yuwen Huai was the Yuwen household’s most “unique” character—a title he wore with pride, much to everyone else’s chagrin.
Ex-Crown Prince Dowry to the Ex-Crown Princess of Wei, Chu Qiao
“Be careful what you wish for! For the impossible almost truly happened between Yuan Song and Chu Qiao.”
Despite Yuan Song’s decision to renounce his title and embrace monastic life, his dowry to Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao stood as a testament to his enduring respect and admiration for the couple. Thoughtful and symbolic, his offerings reflected his principles of wisdom, harmony, and foresight, while subtly expressing his wishes for their happiness and unity. Each gift carried deep personal meaning, intertwining his legacy as Wei’s ex-Crown Prince with the serenity he had found on his spiritual path.
The procession of Yuan Song’s dowry was marked by its understated elegance, reflecting the simplicity he now valued. A delegation of monks and attendants dressed in muted crimson and white robes, representing purity and enlightenment, led the way. The treasures were carried in sandalwood carriages, their fragrance wafting gently through the air, adorned only by a single banner of Wei’s ex-Crown Prince fluttering at the forefront—a quiet but poignant nod to his former stature. Instead of a grand orchestra, a small group of monks chanted hymns, creating an atmosphere of peace and introspection. Yuan Song himself, dressed in plain monastic robes, did not accompany the procession but sent a heartfelt letter expressing his blessings, which was read aloud during the presentation.
Among his gifts was the Phoenix Lantern of Serenity, a lantern crafted from translucent jade with a perpetual flame fueled by a secret monastic formula. Adorned with carvings of a phoenix in flight, it symbolized rebirth, resilience, and the light of harmony Yuan Song hoped would illuminate the couple’s journey. Equally personal was the Scroll of Timeless Wisdom, a handwritten compilation of reflections on leadership, compassion, and unity. Drawing from Wei’s imperial archives and his own musings, the scroll honored Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao’s shared vision for justice and peace, encouraging them to balance strength with compassion.
The Harmony Garden Kit was another thoughtful offering, containing rare seeds and plants curated from Wei’s imperial gardens. Each element, from the white lotus seeds representing enlightenment to the golden peonies symbolizing prosperity, embodied a wish for growth, harmony, and peace. Yuan Song also included the Twin Rings of Unity, simple yet elegant bands of intertwined gold and silver engraved with the characters for “balance” and “unity,” symbolizing the couple’s equal partnership and their strength as a unified force. The Reflection Mirror, framed in sandalwood and carved with patterns of waves and stars, encouraged introspection and clarity, while the Celestial Wind Chime, made of jade and silver, produced harmonious tones—a reminder of the serenity Yuan Song had embraced and wished to share.
The dowry also included a personal letter, rich with emotion and wisdom. Addressed to Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao, Yuan Song praised their courage and vision, offering his blessings for their future. To Yuwen Yue, he wrote, “You have always carried the weight of leadership with honor and resolve. May this new chapter bring you joy, balance, and the strength to navigate all challenges with wisdom.” To Chu Qiao, he offered heartfelt admiration, saying, “A phoenix who has risen above all storms, your courage and vision inspire all who meet you. May your fire continue to burn brightly, bringing warmth and light to all who follow in your wake.” His message concluded with a wish for their legacy to endure as a testament to strength and compassion.
The dowries were presented during an intimate evening ceremony in Qinghai’s palace gardens, a tranquil setting chosen to reflect Yuan Song’s transition to simplicity. As the Phoenix Lantern was unveiled, its soft glow bathed the gathering in a warm, reverent light, while the Scroll of Timeless Wisdom was read aloud, its insights resonating deeply with those present. Yuan Song’s letter, delivered alongside the gifts, carried the weight of his journey and the depth of his connection to the couple. The Twin Rings of Unity were blessed by a monk before being handed to Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue with the words, “May these rings remind you of the balance and unity that bind your lives together.”
Yuan Song’s dowries, though understated, carried profound meaning and symbolism. They reflected the clarity and serenity he had found in his new life and his unwavering respect for Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao. Each gift honored the couple’s strength, unity, and shared vision, standing as a bridge between Yuan Song’s imperial past and his monastic present. Through these offerings, he shared his blessings, ensuring his enduring bond with the couple would resonate in their journey ahead.
As Yuan Song prepared his dowry for Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao, a cascade of memories overwhelmed him, each tied to a time when their fates seemed impossibly intertwined. Among those recollections was the period when Chu Qiao, against her will, was selected as the Ex-Crown Princess of Wei—a role forced upon her by the machinations of the imperial court. That time was marked by conflict, manipulation, and near-impossible choices, yet it was also a period that brought Yuan Song and Chu Qiao closer, even as the tides of fate pulled them apart.
Yuan Song could not forget the days when Chu Qiao was thrust into the palace’s gilded prison, Yuan Song on a hunger strike as the Prince staged a drama, her strength subdued but never extinguished. In her defiance and dignity, Yuan Song saw not just a political match but a person of unparalleled courage, someone who could have stood by his side as Queen of Wei. For a fleeting moment, it seemed the impossible might happen—Chu Qiao might truly ascend the throne alongside him. Yet destiny had other plans, shattering that possibility with a series of events that left scars on their hearts and forged their paths anew.
He recalled the enigmatic Xiao Ce, whose Pandora’s box of secrets unraveled in the heart of Wei’s palace, shifting alliances and exposing the fragile balance of power. In another vivid memory, Yuan Song remembered Yuwen Yue, disguised as Ra Yue, daring to infiltrate the Crown Princess’s palace. Yuan Song had been torn between suspicion and understanding as Yuwen Yue risked everything to see Chu Qiao, their connection transcending the walls of propriety and danger. And then there was Yan Xun—his former friend turned unrelenting adversary—who defied all odds to trespass through the Merlin Mountains and navigate the treacherous Greenhills Courtyard. Yan Xun’s strategic brilliance, driven by his unyielding love and ambition, nearly reached the Imperial Palaces of Wei, shaking the empire to its core.
These memories, vivid and visceral, flooded Yuan Song as he reflected on the journey they had all endured. They were not just events of political intrigue or battles of power—they were fragments of a shared history, marked by love, betrayal, and impossible choices. Despite everything, Yuan Song had never forgotten the bond he shared with Chu Qiao, a bond forged in the crucible of those turbulent days. She had been more than a symbol of his fleeting aspirations for the throne; she had been a friend, a beacon of resilience, and, for a time, the person he had imagined spending his life with.
Yet, as these memories stirred his heart, Yuan Song found solace in the path he had chosen and the peace he had gained. He realized that his love for Chu Qiao, though once tinged with longing, had transformed into something deeper—a gratitude for the role she had played in shaping the man he had become. Yuan Song also knew that Chu Qiao’s destiny was not bound to him but to Yuwen Yue, whose quiet strength and unwavering loyalty had always been her anchor.
As Yuan Song finalized his dowries, particularly the Harmony Garden Kit and the Twin Rings of Unity, he infused them with all the emotions of their shared history. These gifts were not just tokens of his admiration for Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue’s union but also symbols of the gratitude and acceptance he had come to embody. Through these offerings, he honored the past while embracing the future, ensuring that the memories they shared would remain a part of their legacy, even as each of them walked their chosen paths.
Yuan Song’s journey of gratitude and growth reached a profound milestone when he presented his dowries to Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue. Over time, his feelings for Chu Qiao evolved from unfulfilled love to deep-seated gratitude for the pivotal role she had played in his life. Her unwavering resilience and moral strength had inspired Yuan Song to pursue justice and honor, even in the face of personal adversity. She had taught him what it meant to lead with compassion, a lesson that reshaped his understanding of himself and his place in the world.
Yuan Song’s love for Chu Qiao, though never fulfilled, remained a cornerstone of his personal growth. It shaped his values and guided him through the trials of life, laying the foundation for his transition into monastic life. Xia Chong’s presence, meanwhile, gave him the clarity to transform his affection into something greater: an appreciation for the connections that had defined him and the courage to embrace a future unburdened by longing. These experiences gave Yuan Song the strength to step forward with peace in his heart, carrying with him the lessons of love, loss, and gratitude that had defined his path.
In his parting letter to Chu Qiao, Yuan Song encapsulated his evolution with heartfelt words: “Chu Qiao, my dear friend and eternal inspiration, you have shown me the strength of a phoenix rising through trials and the light of a star guiding others through darkness. You taught me to love with an open heart, and for that, I am forever grateful. May your path ahead be filled with peace, and may you and Yuwen Yue find the harmony you both so richly deserve.”
This letter reflected Yuan Song’s acceptance of the past, his respect for Chu Qiao’s journey, and his wishes for her happiness with Yuwen Yue. It also honored the love he had once held for her, the peace he found with Xia Chong, and the legacy of a life now guided by compassion and enlightenment. Yuan Song’s journey was a testament to the transformative power of love and gratitude, and his dowries were not just gifts—they were symbols of a life well-lived and a heart at peace.
The Procession of the Xuili Army’s Gifts
He Xiao, the unwavering commander of the Xuili Army—fondly known as Chu Qiao’s “Beauty Army”—offered dowries that embodied loyalty, honor, and the unbreakable camaraderie forged through shared battles. These gifts were more than treasures; they were heartfelt tributes from the soldiers of Yanbei to their beloved commander and her union with Yuwen Yue. Each offering was steeped in symbolism, reflecting the Xuili Army’s fierce spirit and their profound respect for Chu Qiao’s leadership and Yuwen Yue’s role as a trusted ally.
The Xuili Army’s procession was a commanding display of martial pride and unity. Soldiers in crimson-and-silver uniforms marched in perfect formation, their discipline and cohesion a testament to Chu Qiao’s leadership and He Xiao’s stewardship. The procession was led by mounted warriors clad in ceremonial armor, their spears glinting in the sunlight as banners bearing Yanbei’s hawk crest fluttered in the breeze, symbolizing freedom and defiance. At the forefront rode He Xiao, dressed in full ceremonial armor, his presence exuding loyalty and determination, embodying the steadfast spirit of the Xuili Army.
The centerpiece of He Xiao’s dowry was the Blade of Freedom, a sword forged from Yanbei steel with the words “Strength Through Unity” engraved along its blade. This finely crafted weapon, inlaid with the red and silver colors of the Xuili Army, represented the ideals of freedom and unity that defined their cause and honored Chu Qiao’s leadership and Yuwen Yue’s role as her partner. Alongside this was the Crimson Phoenix Shield, an ornate steel shield adorned with a crimson phoenix, its intricate design symbolizing rebirth and resilience. This gift underscored the Xuili Army’s wish for Chu Qiao’s continued strength and protection.
Another deeply personal offering was the Chest of Valor, filled with medals of honor awarded to Chu Qiao, personal tokens from soldiers—rings, coins, and amulets—and a handwritten book chronicling the army’s victories under her command. This collective gift reflected the soldiers’ enduring gratitude and devotion to their beloved leader. He Xiao also presented Chu Qiao with the Hawk’s Eye Pendant, a striking piece crafted from black onyx and silver, symbolizing her vigilance and the guiding light she had been for Yanbei’s soldiers.
For Yuwen Yue, the Xuili Army offered the Starlight Spear, a finely balanced weapon with a silver blade shaped like a star, honoring his tactical brilliance and martial prowess. He Xiao added a personal touch with a handcrafted battle-ready bow made from Yanbei’s finest wood, symbolizing strength, precision, and the unity between Yanbei and Qinghai. The dowries also included the Xuili Army’s battle banner, embroidered with the phrase “For Freedom, For Yanbei,” a pledge of their loyalty to both Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue.
The presentation ceremony, held on a sprawling field outside Qinghai’s capital, was a powerful moment of unity and celebration. He Xiao, standing before an audience of soldiers and dignitaries, addressed Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue with heartfelt words: “To Chu Qiao, our commander, and Yuwen Yue, her steadfast ally: These gifts are not just treasures but tokens of our loyalty, forged in battle and carried in our hearts. May your union bring strength to all who stand under your protection.” As He Xiao handed the Blade of Freedom to Chu Qiao, the soldiers raised their weapons in a thunderous salute, chanting, “For freedom, for unity, for our leaders!” The gesture was as much a celebration of their commander’s union as it was a reaffirmation of their collective commitment to the ideals they fought to uphold.
The dowries from He Xiao and the Xuili Army carried profound meaning, honoring the shared sacrifices and victories that bound them to Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue. Each gift, from the Blade of Freedom to the Crimson Phoenix Shield, symbolized the enduring loyalty and respect of the Xuili Army. These offerings stood as lasting testaments to the bonds forged in the fires of war, ensuring that the legacy of Chu Qiao, Yuwen Yue, and the Xuili Army would endure as a beacon of unity and strength.
A Royal Princess to a Commoner Slave: Princess Chun’er and General A’Chu of Yanbei
Princess Chun’er, renowned for her dramatic flair and imperial elegance, presented dowries that exuded opulence and reflected her complex mix of ambitions, personal pride, and begrudging acknowledgment of Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue’s union. Each gift was carefully selected to showcase Chun’er’s royal status, her eye for extravagance, and her desire to leave an indelible mark on the couple’s celebration. While outwardly gracious, her offerings carried her signature blend of grandeur and subtle competitiveness, serving as a reminder of her presence in their lives and at court.
The procession of Chun’er’s dowries was a theatrical display of imperial pomp and extravagance, orchestrated with meticulous attention to detail. Gold-embroidered carriages adorned with her personal emblem—a phoenix clutching a lotus—were laden with treasures and accompanied by a troupe of imperial dancers performing elegant routines. Musicians played melodious tunes, filling the air with a celebratory ambiance. Chun’er herself made a grand entrance in a gilded palanquin, her gown of shimmering pink and gold capturing the light as she arrived with a regal flourish, ensuring all eyes were firmly fixed on her.
Chun’er’s centerpiece gift was an elaborate Phoenix Crown for Chu Qiao. Crafted from gold and encrusted with rubies, sapphires, and pearls, the crown featured intricate phoenix motifs symbolizing rebirth and nobility. As she handed it over, Chun’er remarked with a hint of an edge, “A crown for a woman who has ascended so far. May it remind you of the weight of responsibility that comes with it.” For Yuwen Yue, she presented a jade scepter, carved from flawless green jade and inlaid with gold filigree depicting dragons. A symbol of power and authority, Chun’er offered it with the statement, “A scepter for the one who commands both loyalty and fear—a balance few can master.” These gifts, while magnanimous, were laden with subtle reminders of the expectations and burdens of their positions.
Among the offerings was a bolt of rare Imperial Brocade, woven with golden threads to depict a phoenix and dragon entwined in harmony, a nod to the couple’s unity. Chun’er quipped as she presented it, “Every great house deserves to drape itself in elegance. Let this remind all who enter of your grace and strength.” Another extravagant gift was the Jewel of Eternity, a lavish necklace featuring an enormous sapphire surrounded by diamonds, presented with the playful remark, “A jewel for a jewel—may it remind you of the brilliance required to shine in such a high place.” Chun’er also included a golden replica of Wei’s imperial pavilion, intricately crafted with silver and jade details, symbolizing the imperial family’s connection to Yuwen Yue’s household. She explained with her trademark mix of charm and veiled assertion, “May this remind you of the imperial family’s ever-watchful presence.”
Adding a surprising touch, Chun’er commissioned a detailed blueprint for a Serenity Garden, complete with exotic plants, koi ponds, and moon bridges. “Even the strongest need moments of calm. I thought this would suit your taste… or perhaps mine,” she said, with a smile that straddled the line between sincere and self-serving. Personal touches included a set of rare perfumes for Chu Qiao, crafted from the blossoms of imperial gardens, and a high-quality calligraphy set for Yuwen Yue, complete with jade-handled brushes and gold-ink inkwells. Chun’er framed these gifts with characteristic remarks: “May these scents remind you of the refinement expected of one in your position,” and “For the moments when a leader’s thoughts must be penned, not spoken.”
During the grand presentation ceremony, Chun’er delivered an eloquent speech underscoring her magnanimity and self-importance: “To Chu Qiao, who has risen far beyond her origins, and Yuwen Yue, whose brilliance commands loyalty across realms—I offer these gifts not just as tokens of respect, but as reminders of the greatness you now embody.” Her tone was formal yet carried her signature subtle undertones, as she added, “May these treasures inspire awe in all who behold them, as your union surely will.”
While Chun’er’s gifts were undeniably grand, they carried her characteristic mix of benevolence and subtle assertions of superiority. The Phoenix Crown and Jewel of Eternity celebrated Chu Qiao’s rise but also served as reminders of the burdens of her newfound status. The Golden Pavilion Miniature and Serenity Garden Design hinted at Chun’er’s intent to maintain the imperial family’s influence over the couple. Even her personal touches, such as the perfumes and calligraphy set, carried hints of expectation and refinement.
Ultimately, Princess Chun’er’s dowries were an extravagant display of imperial opulence, designed to impress and assert her presence. Her offerings reflected her complex personality—gracious on the surface, yet layered with reminders of her own importance and influence. Despite this, the gifts underscored her acknowledgment of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao’s significance, serving as both a spectacle and a testament to her begrudging respect for their union. In true Chun’er fashion, her dowries ensured that while the couple’s love would shine, her own light would not go unnoticed.
The Relationship Between Princess Chun’er and Chu Qiao
The relationship between Princess Chun’er and Chu Qiao was marked by enmity born of political turmoil, personal tragedy, and mutual betrayal. Their animosity was rooted in the chaos caused by Yan Xun’s rebellion, which reshaped alliances and left devastation in its wake. Yan Xun’s campaign against Wei resulted in the deaths of Chun’er’s brothers, the Crown Prince and Yuan Song, who were brutally decapitated during a raid in Yanbei. Chun’er held Chu Qiao partly responsible, believing her association with Yan Xun had enabled his rise to power and the subsequent destruction he wrought. Despite this, Chu Qiao later risked her own life to rescue Chun’er and Yuan Song from Yanbei, smuggling them out unharmed. However, her intervention came too late to save Chun’er’s brothers from their tragic fate, further cementing the princess’s grief and rage.
This animosity reached a boiling point when Chun’er declared war on Hong Chuan, a key city in Yanbei and the headquarters of Chu Qiao’s Xuili Army. Consumed by her anger and desire for vengeance, Chun’er mobilized Wei’s imperial army in a campaign that became one of the bloodiest conflicts in the region’s history. The death toll was staggering, and the destruction wrought upon Yanbei was catastrophic. Chu Qiao, determined to protect her people, led the Xuili Army in a fierce defense of Hong Chuan, but her forces were eventually overwhelmed by the sheer might of Wei’s assault. Chun’er’s vendetta against Yanbei and its defenders seemed unstoppable, threatening not only the destruction of the Xuili Army but also the land’s spirit of resistance.
As Chu Qiao faced certain defeat, Yuwen Yue intervened to save her. Leading his forces into the fray, Yuwen Yue turned the tide of the battle, carving a path through Wei’s forces and securing an escape for Chu Qiao and her soldiers. His arrival came just in time to prevent her from being overwhelmed completely. Despite his efforts, Chu Qiao suffered grave injuries during the conflict, her resilience and determination pushed to their limits. Yuwen Yue’s actions were a testament to his unwavering commitment to Chu Qiao, his intervention embodying his role as her protector and partner.
Meanwhile, Yan Xun, delayed in Changan by Yuan Che’s strategic maneuvering, arrived in Yanbei too late to impact the outcome at Hong Chuan. By the time he reached the battlefield, the war was over, and the cost to Yanbei and Chu Qiao was immense. The scars left by the conflict, both physical and emotional, served as a stark reminder of the sacrifices Chu Qiao had made for her people and the unrelenting price of leadership.
The aftermath of Hong Chuan solidified the deep divide between Chun’er and Chu Qiao. Chun’er’s grief and anger drove her to acts of destruction that left Yanbei in ruins, while Chu Qiao’s efforts to protect her people showcased her unwavering dedication and resilience. For Yuwen Yue, the events underscored the strength of his bond with Chu Qiao and his belief in her cause, his intervention saving her life and reaffirming their shared purpose.
The story of Chun’er and Chu Qiao’s fraught relationship became a defining chapter in the history of Wei and Yanbei. It was a tale of vengeance and redemption, marked by devastating losses and the enduring strength of those who sought to survive and rebuild amidst the chaos.
The Grand Dowries of the Great Summer Emperor of Wei
The Great Summer Emperor of Wei, renowned for his imposing authority and grandeur, presented a dowry befitting his imperial station and the significance of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao’s union. His gifts were a calculated blend of imperial opulence, symbolic meaning, and strategic foresight, reflecting both his benevolence and his intent to solidify ties between the Wei and Qinghai thrones, the Yuwen household, and the growing influence of Chu Qiao’s Moon Kingdom.
A Procession of Imperial Magnificence
The presentation of the Emperor’s dowries was an awe-inspiring spectacle, meticulously crafted to showcase the wealth and power of the Wei Empire. The procession captured the attention of all who witnessed it, leaving an indelible impression of the Emperor’s regard for this momentous occasion.
Imperial Guards in Gold-Plated Armor: The Emperor’s personal guard, resplendent in gleaming gold-plated armor, marched in precise formation, embodying the might and discipline of the Wei Empire. Their presence underscored the Emperor’s commitment to the strength and stability of his realm. Carriages of Jade and Gold: Gilded carriages adorned with intricate carvings of dragons and phoenixes transported the treasures. These mythical symbols of the imperial family’s divine mandate were a poignant reminder of the Emperor’s authority and favor. Musicians and Dancers: An orchestra playing the imperial anthem and dancers performing traditional court routines accompanied the dowries, infusing the event with the grandeur and elegance of Wei’s imperial culture. The Emperor’s Seal: A towering banner bearing the imperial dragon insignia led the procession, a visual proclamation of the Emperor’s personal blessing for the union. The Dowries: A Testament to Imperial Favor
The Emperor’s gifts were as grand as they were meaningful, each one carefully chosen to reflect the values and aspirations he associated with Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao.
The Imperial Seal of Favor: A rare and prestigious gift, the Imperial Seal of Favor was a replica of the Emperor’s personal seal, carved from flawless jade. The coiled dragon clutching a pearl symbolized the Emperor’s trust in Yuwen Yue’s loyalty and his acknowledgment of Yuwen Yue’s pivotal role in the empire’s future.
The Emperor’s Words: “With this seal, you carry not just the weight of your household but the hopes of an empire.”
The Dragonflame Crown: A magnificent tiara of gold, adorned with rubies and diamonds, featuring phoenix wings and a central ruby shaped like a dragon’s eye, was presented to Chu Qiao. This crown symbolized her rise from adversity to become a figure of power and grace.
The Emperor’s Note: “A crown for a woman who has risen above the ordinary to stand beside greatness.”
The Golden Pavilion Treasury: A collection of treasures from Wei’s imperial vaults, housed in an ornate replica of the imperial Golden Pavilion. The treasury contained rare gemstones, ancient artifacts, and gold and silver ingots, representing the empire’s wealth and a wish for prosperity in the couple’s household.
The Eternal Silk Scrolls: A set of scrolls crafted from rare eternal silk, inscribed with wisdom from Wei’s greatest philosophers and poets. These scrolls symbolized the Emperor’s hope for the couple to govern with wisdom and inspire with their unity.
The Imperial Stallions: A pair of purebred imperial stallions, Shadowflame and Moonlight, known for their unmatched speed and endurance. The horses symbolized power, unity, and the journey ahead for the couple.
The Dragon’s Veil Pavilion: A grand ceremonial hall commissioned by the Emperor to be constructed in Qinghai, featuring towering columns, intricate dragon and phoenix carvings, and murals celebrating Yuwen Yue’s and Chu Qiao’s accomplishments. The pavilion represented the Emperor’s respect for Yuwen Yue’s leadership and Chu Qiao’s bravery.
The Phoenix Blossom Garden: Plans and resources for a sanctuary of peace and reflection, featuring rare flowering trees, a phoenix-shaped fountain, and lantern-lit pathways. The garden symbolized rebirth and the Emperor’s wish for Chu Qiao’s peace and prosperity.
A Charter of Autonomy: A document granting Qinghai greater self-governance under Yuwen Yue’s leadership, ensuring the region’s stability and empowering his stewardship.
The Emperor’s Words: “May this charter empower your leadership and safeguard the legacy of your house.”
The dowries were unveiled during a lavish ceremony held in Qinghai’s newly constructed ceremonial hall, itself a reflection of the Emperor’s regard for Yuwen Yue’s contributions to the empire. The Emperor’s envoy, clad in imperial yellow robes, addressed the couple with measured gravitas:
“From the Great Summer Emperor of Wei, these gifts are given in honor of your union and as a blessing for your future. May your house shine as a beacon of strength, unity, and prosperity for all the realms.”
While the dowries radiated imperial generosity, they also carried subtle political undertones. The Imperial Seal of Favor and the Charter of Autonomy reinforced Yuwen Yue’s loyalty to the throne, while the construction of the Dragon’s Veil Pavilion and the Phoenix Blossom Garden symbolized the Emperor’s enduring influence over Qinghai. These gestures were both a celebration of the union and a calculated move to align Qinghai’s future with Wei’s interests.
The Great Summer Emperor’s dowries were a breathtaking display of wealth, power, and strategic intent, blending grandeur with symbolic depth. Each gift celebrated Yuwen Yue’s steadfast loyalty, Chu Qiao’s remarkable journey, and the unity they represented. Beyond their immediate impact, the dowries stood as a lasting testament to the Emperor’s vision of a harmonious and prosperous empire, anchored by alliances forged in trust and mutual respect.
The Grand and Hilarious Dowries of Zao Baocung
Zao Baocung, the ever-charismatic and unpredictable healer, presented dowries unlike any other. Known for his eccentric humor and theatrical flair, he shunned the conventional gifts of gold and jewels in favor of treasures that were as extravagant as they were absurd. His offerings were designed to bewilder, amuse, and provide a lifetime of belly laughs for Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao.
A Journey Through Imagination Honeymoon Tickets to the Afterlife Realms
Baocung’s first “gift” was an all-expenses-paid honeymoon package to the Afterlife Realms.
Package Details:
First-class chariot rides pulled by ghostly stallions. A tour guide named “Grimothy,” a charming skeleton with impeccable manners. Exclusive access to the Hall of Forgotten Promises, where the couple could watch their past lives play out like a romantic drama series. Complimentary snacks (ectoplasm jelly and spectral tea).
Baocung’s Pitch: “Why settle for earthly beaches when you can frolic on the glowing sands of Oblivion Cove? I hear the sunsets are to die for—literally!”
A Cruise Down the Forgotten Rivers
For their adventurous side, Baocung offered a luxurious cruise down the Forgotten Rivers, a mystical network of waterways said to flow through time itself.
Amenities:
A time-bending paddleboat captained by a slightly drunk otter spirit named “Otto the Wise.” A chance to fish for metaphors—creatures that swim in the river and take the shape of your wildest ideas. Stops at the “Isle of Misplaced Keys” and “The Archipelago of Second Thoughts.”
Baocung’s Note: “Just don’t drop anything important into the river—it might end up in your childhood or 500 years in the future. And trust me, Otto’s steering isn’t the most reliable.”
VIP Pass to the Ersatz Realms
Baocung’s next “gift” was a VIP pass to the Ersatz Realms, a magical amusement park filled with near-perfect replicas of famous locations, designed for ultimate relaxation.
Features:
A replica of Yanbei’s grandest palace, where you can rule a kingdom for an hour without any paperwork or rebellions. A Qinghai-inspired spa offering massages from clouds shaped like grumpy pandas. “The Yuwen Yue Escape Room,” where the challenge is figuring out which mask hides his true feelings.
Baocung’s Explanation: “Sometimes reality is overrated. Why deal with political drama when you can ride the Ferris wheel of Almost-Tranquility?”
The Eternal Argument Simulator
For their intellectual side, Baocung created the Eternal Argument Simulator, a magical device that allows the couple to debate endlessly without ever resolving anything—perfect for sharpening wits and keeping the relationship spicy.
Topics Included:
“Who’s the better tactician: Yuwen Yue or a hedgehog with a sword?” “Which river is more poetic: the Forgotten Rivers or the nearby Stream of Consciousness?” “Should wedding banquets serve dumplings or noodles?”
Baocung’s Selling Point: “You’re both brilliant, so why not have an argument machine that ensures nobody wins? It’s the gift that keeps on giving!”
Access to the Comedy Hall of Ancestral Blunders
Baocung secured front-row seats for Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao at the Comedy Hall of Ancestral Blunders, a place where the spirits of their ancestors recount their most ridiculous mistakes.
Highlights:
Yuwen Yue’s great-grandfather accidentally declaring war on a duck kingdom. Chu Qiao’s ancestor inventing a “flying spear” that only flew backward. A spirited roast by the ghosts themselves.
Baocung’s Justification: “Laughter is the best medicine, except when you’re choking on it. Just bring snacks—they love throwing peanuts at the audience.”
A Lifetime Pass to the Realm of Second Chances
Baocung offered the couple a mystical pass to the Realm of Second Chances, where they could retry any moment in their lives for fun or improvement.
Guidelines:
One free redo of an awkward conversation with a noble. Unlimited retries for “Yuwen Yue trying to smile naturally in front of a crowd.” A special feature allowing Chu Qiao to reenact her favorite battle moves in slow motion.
Baocung’s Quip: “Let’s be honest, Yue could use this to fix his poker face, and Chu Qiao might want to relive the time she accidentally scared an entire battalion into surrendering.”
Membership to the Afterlife Book Club
Baocung gifted the couple a lifetime membership to the Afterlife Book Club, hosted by the most famous literary ghosts.
Perks:
Discussions with the original author of The Scrolls of Chaos (he has strong opinions about the ending). Access to unpublished ghostwritten works. Free ectoplasm bookmarks.
Baocung’s Teaser: “Where else can you argue about metaphors with a 1,000-year-old poet who literally haunts their old library?”
The Infinite Date Generator
As a whimsical final touch, Baocung offered the Infinite Date Generator, a magical device that conjures random, surreal date ideas for the couple.
Examples:
“Picnic on the clouds, with sandwiches made by cloud chefs.” “Dueling with umbrellas on a boat in the sky.” “Dancing with invisible partners who cheer you on.”
Baocung’s Advice: “Use this when you’re bored of saving the world or arguing about who left the door to the war room open.”
Baocung’s Presentation Speech
During the presentation, Baocung stood before the gathered dignitaries, dramatically spreading his arms as he declared:
“Why give you gold when I can give you memories? Why burden you with jewels when I can offer you laughter? Yuwen Yue, Chu Qiao, these gifts are my finest creations—crafted from the uncharted lands of my mind and wrapped in the ridiculousness of life itself!”
He ended with a theatrical bow and a wink, adding:
“And if you ever need a refund… well, good luck finding me!”
Zao Baocung’s gifts were a masterclass in humor and creativity, blending the absurd with the imaginative. Each “gift” promised to bring endless laughter and unique adventures, perfectly capturing Baocung’s eccentric charm and his deep affection for the couple.
Though the dowries were intangible, their value lay in the joy and amusement they brought—a testament to Baocung’s belief that life, like marriage, is best enjoyed with a hearty laugh.
Zao Baocung’s Hilarious Dowry Bonus: Lifetime Moon Kingdom Access
As if his already absurdly imaginative gifts weren’t enough, Zao Baocung announced a final addition to his dowries: Never-Ending, Generational Access to the Moon Kingdom for Yuwen Yue, Chu Qiao, and all their future descendants—including children, grandchildren, and even the family pets.
The Moon Kingdom Perks (LOL)
Unlimited Vacation Pass Baocung declared that the Moon Kingdom—a mystical, ethereal paradise that exists between reality and dreams—was now their eternal holiday destination.
Highlights:
Access to floating gardens that grow moonlight-infused fruits. Stay in the Eternal Glow Suites, where every room comes with its own enchanted cloud for naps. Guided tours by moon rabbits (provided they aren’t too busy brewing celestial tea).
Baocung’s Comment: “Why settle for boring mountains or beaches when you can have an orbiting vacation with moonbeam massages and constellation karaoke?”
Free Transportation via Star Chariots Future generations will never have to worry about mundane travel, as Baocung included unlimited rides on Star Chariots powered by celestial energy.
Features:
A glowing star chauffeur named “Comet Carl” who insists on singing galactic lullabies. High-speed travel between the Moon Kingdom and Qinghai in under a minute—no inter-realm tolls!
Baocung’s Pitch: “Not only is it faster than walking, but it also saves you from the horrors of public transport! Your future great-great-grandchildren will thank me.”
Lifetime Moon Rabbit Catering Service The Moon Kingdom’s legendary moon rabbits, renowned for their magical culinary skills, will cater every family event for eternity.
Menu Options:
Mooncakes infused with starlight essence. Lunar dumplings that glow softly and hum lullabies. Bottomless celestial teas that make you feel like you’re floating (because you are).
Baocung’s Comment: “Weddings, birthdays, awkward family reunions—I got you covered. And don’t worry, the moon rabbits never complain, except when they run out of carrots.”
VIP Access to the Sea of Tranquility Spa For relaxation, the Moon Kingdom offers its Sea of Tranquility Spa, where future generations can soak in glowing lunar pools while sipping starfruit juice.
Exclusive Features:
Anti-gravity hot tubs. Meteorite facials that literally make you sparkle. The “Cosmic Rewind” treatment, which makes you feel ten years younger (temporarily).
Baocung’s Assurance: “I guarantee even your great-grandchildren will look fabulous for eternity. Just don’t fall asleep in the anti-gravity pool—you might end up orbiting the moon.”
Moonlight Schooling for Future Generations Baocung included full scholarships for the children and grandchildren of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao to attend the Moon Kingdom’s prestigious School of Eternal Luminescence.
Subjects Offered:
Star Navigation for Beginners. Moonbeam Swordsmanship. Advanced Cloud Painting and Cosmic Arts.
Baocung’s Comment: “Why waste time learning boring arithmetic when you can learn to wield a sword made of moonlight? Future heirs will thank me for this practical education.”
Free Real Estate in the Moon Kingdom As a crowning touch, Baocung gifted the couple and their descendants a never-expiring celestial plot of land in the Moon Kingdom.
Property Highlights:
A house made of glowing crystal, with moonbeam balconies. A personal floating garden that blooms with stardust flowers. A meteor shower viewing deck for romantic evenings or family storytelling.
Baocung’s Declaration: “You’ve got a place to escape when political drama gets boring. And your great-grandkids can use it as a bachelor pad—win-win!”
Moon Kingdom Citizenship for Descendants Baocung secured automatic Moon Kingdom citizenship for all future descendants, complete with a glowing passport and free entry to all celestial events.
Perks Include:
Front-row seats to meteor showers and galactic concerts. Voting rights in the annual “Lunar Talent Show” (don’t miss the singing comets). Moon rabbit ambassador privileges (because who doesn’t want to boss around magical rabbits?).
Baocung’s Final Sales Pitch: “I just made your unborn descendants immortal celebrities of the cosmos. You’re welcome.”
At the conclusion of his wildly theatrical presentation, Baocung declared: “Yuwen Yue, Chu Qiao, and your future illustrious offspring: My dowry ensures that no matter how stressful life gets, you’ll always have the Moon Kingdom to escape to. Whether you’re dodging political conspiracies, overly ambitious relatives, or just bad weather, remember—you have access to the most exclusive paradise in the universe. Oh, and free mooncakes for life!”
He then struck a dramatic pose and concluded with: “If anyone here thinks their dowry is grander, let them top the Moon Kingdom for Eternity!”
He then struck a dramatic pose and concluded with:
“If anyone here thinks their dowry is grander, let them top the Moon Kingdom for Eternity!”
Zao Baocung’s “dowry” was a hilarious and imaginative spectacle, transforming a mythical realm into an eternal getaway for Yuwen Yue, Chu Qiao, and their future family. His playful humor and over-the-top generosity left everyone in stitches, cementing his role as the unforgettable comic genius of their story.
Zao Baocung’s Yearly Festival of Lantern Lights: A Radiant Legacy for Yuwen Yue, Chu Qiao, and Their Descendants
As if his wildly imaginative dowry weren’t enough, Zao Baocung, the self-proclaimed “Master of Merriment,” added an annual Festival of Lantern Lights to his list of gifts. This grand spectacle, to be held every year, was designed to ensure perpetual celebration, laughter, and joy for Yuwen Yue, Chu Qiao, and their future generations. Courtesy of Baocung’s boundless charisma (and dubious financial sponsors), the festival would become a tradition for the ages.
What Is the Festival of Lantern Lights?
The Festival of Lantern Lights is a dazzling celebration filled with humor, magic, and warmth. Each year, the event will light up the skies of Qinghai, uniting people from all over the realms in a joyous explosion of glowing colors, laughter, and questionable performances (Baocung insists on being the star of the opening act).
Key Features of the Festival (LOL)
The Grand Lantern Parade
Lantern Themes: Each year, a new theme will dictate the design of the lanterns. Past themes include:
“The Many Moods of Yuwen Yue” (featuring lanterns of Yue frowning, smirking, and glaring). “Chu Qiao’s Legendary Battles” (complete with reenactments via glowing puppets). “Zao Baocung’s Great Adventures” (entirely fictional but wildly entertaining).
Lantern Styles: Lanterns range from traditional designs to comical ones shaped like moon rabbits, starry clouds, and Baocung’s “famous” herbal potion bottle.
Sky Lantern Release
Massive Lantern Release: At the festival’s climax, thousands of sky lanterns, each representing a wish or blessing, are released into the heavens. Special Lanterns: Baocung provides a few “surprise” lanterns that explode into fireworks, confetti, or mysterious glowing runes.
Baocung’s Special Note:
“One lantern contains a secret map to the Moon Kingdom. Or it might just be a recipe for my famous herbal stew—good luck finding out!”
Comedy Roast of the Hosts
Baocung’s Tradition: Every year, Baocung roasts Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao in front of the festival crowd.
For Yuwen Yue: “Does anyone know why Yue’s face is always so serious? Because he’s afraid one smile will break the heavens!” For Chu Qiao: “They call her the phoenix of Yanbei. But did you know she once scared a spy into surrendering just by sneezing?”
Crowd Involvement: Festivalgoers can submit their own roast jokes, with the best one winning a lantern shaped like Baocung’s head.
Lantern Artisans’ Market
Handcrafted Lanterns: Artisans from across the realms showcase their lantern creations, ranging from intricate works of art to hilariously impractical designs. Interactive Booths: Guests can create their own lanterns under the guidance of Yanbei’s master artisans (or sabotage them with Baocung’s “help”).
Baocung’s Magical Lantern Maze
Glow-in-the-Dark Adventure: A sprawling maze of glowing lanterns filled with puzzles, illusions, and “completely harmless” booby traps. Hidden Prizes:
A glowing rabbit lantern. Baocung’s handwritten guide to “Witty Comebacks for All Occasions.” A coupon for one free Moon Kingdom vacation (fine print: transportation not included).
Baocung’s Warning:
“If you get lost, just follow the sound of my voice—or the nearest laughing ghost.”
Fireworks Extravaganza
Midnight Finale: A breathtaking fireworks display synchronized to music, lighting up the skies with colorful dragons, phoenixes, and lantern shapes. Baocung’s Signature Firework: A massive explosion spelling out, “You’re Welcome, Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao!”
The Floating Lantern Banquet
Dining on the River: Guests enjoy a feast on boats decorated with glowing lanterns, floating down Qinghai’s rivers under the stars. Signature Dishes:
“Baocung’s Famous Lantern Soup” (contains no actual lanterns, but glows mysteriously). Mooncake Dumplings with Starlight Sauce. Phoenix Flame Tea (spicy enough to make Yuwen Yue blink twice).
Entertainment: Live music, comedy performances, and dramatic retellings of Chu Qiao’s greatest triumphs (overly embellished by Baocung).
Lifetime Festival Pass for Descendants
Baocung declared that this festival would be free for all descendants of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao—forever.
Perks:
VIP seating for all events. Personalized lanterns shaped like their ancestors’ most iconic moments. Free snacks from the Artisan Market (Baocung personally funds this with his “endless” herbal remedy business profits).
Baocung’s Festival Announcement
During his grand dowry presentation, Baocung stepped onto a glowing stage, his arms spread wide as he shouted:
“Why give gold when I can give legacy? Why give jewels when I can give the greatest annual party in the history of the realms? Yuwen Yue, Chu Qiao, you’re not just getting married—you’re becoming legends, and legends deserve to celebrate forever!”
He then added with a smirk:
“And if anyone else here thinks their dowries are grander, let’s see them sponsor a festival that includes fire-breathing lanterns and moon rabbit chefs!”
The Festival of Lantern Lights, courtesy of Zao Baocung, is a yearly spectacle of joy, laughter, and glowing brilliance. Its whimsical traditions, absurdly creative features, and heartfelt celebrations make it a gift like no other. More than a festival, it’s a testament to the enduring bond between Yuwen Yue, Chu Qiao, and their ever-entertaining friend, Zao Baocung.
The lanterns will glow, the skies will sparkle, and the laughter will echo through the ages—a legacy as luminous as the couple it celebrates.
The Hilarious Aftermath
As Zao Baocung finished his theatrical presentation, the grand hall fell into a stunned silence, interrupted only by a stray chuckle from someone too overwhelmed to process the absurdity. Yuwen Yue, ever the stoic, stood unmoving, his expression carved from marble—but if one looked closely enough, a single eyebrow may have twitched in rebellion. Chu Qiao, on the other hand, had her lips pressed into a tight line, as though weighing whether to laugh hysterically or throttle the flamboyant healer.
Finally, Yuwen Yue broke the silence, his tone so dry it could have ignited a desert.
“Baocung,” he began, each word dipped in deliberate calm, “I’ve faced ambushes, outwitted generals, and survived treachery. But your ‘Honeymoon Tickets to the Afterlife Realms’ may truly be my greatest trial yet.”
Chu Qiao’s eyes narrowed as she picked up the “Eternal Argument Simulator,” turning it over in her hands like a relic from another dimension. “You’re telling me this machine is supposed to make Yuwen Yue and I… argue more?” she asked, her voice laced with mock disbelief. “Because clearly, we don’t already have enough to debate over, like, say… the logistics of your ghostly otter river cruise?”
Yuwen Yue tilted his head, regarding the VIP pass to the Ersatz Realms with a mix of resignation and amusement. “Ah yes,” he murmured, holding it up for all to see. “A place where we can experience the joys of ruling a fake kingdom without rebellions or paperwork. Truly, Baocung, you understand my deepest desires.” The last words were delivered with such deadpan delivery that even the stoic guards had to cough to hide their laughter.
Chu Qiao, meanwhile, had moved on to the “Comedy Hall of Ancestral Blunders,” her fingers tapping against the package thoughtfully. “So, let me get this straight,” she said slowly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve given us front-row seats to our ancestors embarrassing themselves, while ghosts throw peanuts at us? Truly, Baocung, your generosity knows no bounds.”
At this, Baocung grinned brightly, unbothered by the dripping sarcasm. “Exactly!” he exclaimed. “And just wait until you see the part where Yuwen Yue’s great-uncle tries to negotiate with a chicken. It’s a crowd favorite.”
Yuwen Yue shot Baocung a look so sharp it could have cut through Baocung’s lantern maze. “If I find out you’ve arranged for my descendants to be perpetually mocked by spirits over my inability to smile, I’ll personally escort you to your Afterlife Realms, no chariot required.”
Chu Qiao’s lips twitched as she tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh. “Yue, let’s be honest,” she said, smirking. “Your poker face deserves its own comedy special.”
Turning to the “Lifetime Moon Kingdom Access” scroll, Chu Qiao finally shook her head, her tone both amused and incredulous. “So, our children, grandchildren, and even the family cat now have citizenship in an ethereal realm filled with moon rabbits and meteor showers? What happens if they prefer dumplings over mooncakes, Baocung? Will that void the contract?”
Baocung, ever unflappable, clasped his hands over his heart. “Chu Qiao, my dear phoenix, I would never deny your descendants dumplings. The moon rabbits are flexible—they’ll add a dumpling-making class to the Moonlight School syllabus.”
Yuwen Yue finally sighed, placing the VIP Ersatz pass back on the table with a resigned shake of his head. “Baocung, your dowry is less a gift and more a divine punishment for my sins. But,” he added with a glint of amusement in his usually cool gaze, “I suppose you’ve ensured one thing: we will never have a dull day.”
Chu Qiao crossed her arms, mock-glaring at Baocung. “You’ve outdone yourself this time. Though, if I ever see you steering a star chariot with a singing rabbit, I’m using your argument simulator to explain why you deserve to be locked in your own maze.”
Baocung gave an exaggerated bow, his grin never wavering. “It’s my honor to bewilder and delight, my friends. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must begin planning the first Festival of Lantern Lights. Yuwen Yue, don’t worry—I promise to only make one lantern in your likeness.”
As he sauntered off, Yuwen Yue glanced at Chu Qiao, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. “Remind me again why we tolerate him?”
Chu Qiao shrugged, a glimmer of laughter in her eyes. “Because life would be far too quiet without him. And besides,” she added, picking up the Infinite Date Generator, “I think I might enjoy dueling you with umbrellas in a sky boat.”
Chapter 99. Part 2
Lover’s Moon
“In the glow of the lover’s moon, even the darkest nights feel like home.”
Zhan Ziyu, the enigmatic master of celestial strategies and a man who seems to operate on a higher philosophical plane than the rest of us mortals, approached the concept of dowries with his usual mix of pragmatism and detachment. His first gift to Chu Qiao, the antidote for the Dengxian Pill—a rare and miraculous artifact of legendary alchemical power—was a perfect example of his practical and slightly exasperated approach to alliances. The Dengxian Pill was renowned for granting unparalleled clarity, longevity, and resilience, but of course, no great power comes without a catch. Zhan Ziyu, ever the realist, made sure to also provide its antidote, perhaps as his way of saying, “Here’s immortality, but don’t get too attached.” When questioned about his generosity, Ziyu shrugged and remarked with his signature candor, “I gave her the antidote and gained nothing from this alliance. Such is the way of the Dao—profit is fleeting, but principle endures.” Translation: “I’m above caring, but you’re welcome.”
For Yuwen Yue, Zhan Ziyu’s gift was no less unconventional: the Celestial Compass of Equilibrium, a mystical artifact brimming with philosophical symbolism. Forged from celestial bronze and etched with the trigrams of the I Ching, the compass featured a rotating crystal sphere that seemed to mock anyone incapable of grasping the intricacies of cosmic balance. More than a decorative artifact, it promised to identify the most harmonious path in any situation—a celestial GPS for leaders who preferred wisdom over trial and error. Yuwen Yue, whose role as a strategist often felt like refereeing the universe’s chaos, now had a tool to help align decisions with the natural order. Whether he found this empowering or mildly condescending was anyone’s guess.
Zhan Ziyu, never one for grand gestures, skipped the festivities altogether, opting instead to send the compass through a humble Daoist acolyte. Alongside the artifact came a note, written with Ziyu’s characteristic precision: “To Yuwen Yue, a man who seeks to master the intricacies of fate: May this compass guide you when the stars grow dim and the path forward obscured. Use it wisely, or not at all—both choices belong to you.” It was both a gift and a riddle, perfectly tailored to a man Ziyu clearly respected but wasn’t about to coddle.
Zhan Ziyu’s dowries were as unorthodox as the man himself. The antidote to the Dengxian Pill symbolized his belief in foresight and practicality; after all, what use is immortality without an exit strategy? The Celestial Compass, meanwhile, spoke to his admiration for Yuwen Yue’s intellect and his understanding of leadership as an exercise in balance rather than brute force. In true Ziyu fashion, his offerings avoided any hint of ostentation, opting instead for symbolic depth and practical utility. By openly admitting that he gained nothing from his alliance with Chu Qiao, Ziyu cemented his role as the aloof philosopher who walks the fine line between generous benefactor and mildly annoyed sage.
In the end, Zhan Ziyu’s gifts left an indelible impression—not because they dazzled with extravagance, but because they carried the weight of his principles and pragmatism. The antidote ensured Chu Qiao wouldn’t be tethered to immortality if she chose otherwise, while the compass promised Yuwen Yue a chance to navigate life’s chaos with a tool forged in wisdom. These understated yet profoundly meaningful offerings ensured that Zhan Ziyu’s legacy would endure, long after the wedding was over and the other dowries were forgotten.
Master Xie Tai Shan, the distinguished uncle of Yuwen Yue from his mother’s noble lineage in Wei, graced the grand wedding with a procession that embodied his family’s prestige and his personal affection for the couple. As a refined aristocrat and a prominent figure in Liang’s elite, Xie Tai Shan’s offerings blended elegance, practicality, and cultural richness. Each gift reflected the deep ties between the families, the significance of the union, and his hopes for Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao’s future. Carefully curated, his dowries honored Yuwen Yue’s heritage and Chu Qiao’s resilience, making a profound statement of support for their union.
Xie Tai Shan’s arrival was a spectacle of dignified grandeur, showcasing the sophistication of Liang while paying homage to Wei’s traditions. The procession began with the release of rare Cangwu birds, their vibrant plumage gleaming as they ascended into the sky, symbolizing fidelity and enduring bonds. Attendants in Liang’s signature gold-and-silver robes carried lacquered chests adorned with crane and lotus motifs, emblematic of peace and longevity. A serene melody filled the air, performed by a small ensemble of Liang’s finest musicians, their zithers and flutes infusing the atmosphere with tranquility and celebration.
Among Xie Tai Shan’s remarkable dowries, the Jade Crane of Prosperity stood out as a masterpiece—a magnificent statue carved from a single block of translucent green jade. Representing longevity, wisdom, and prosperity, this family heirloom symbolized unity and was a blessing for the couple’s shared future. The Celestial Pavilion Chest, a treasure trove of Liang’s finest silk embroidered with phoenixes and clouds, gold and silver ingots stamped with imperial seals, and rare gemstones, highlighted the wealth and elegance of their union. Another exceptional gift, the Cangwu Aviary, featured six living Cangwu birds housed in a golden aviary intricately adorned with lotus carvings. Known for their loyalty and harmonious calls, the birds symbolized love’s enduring nature and could perform mesmerizing synchronized flights—a spectacle that left the crowd in awe.
Xie Tai Shan also presented the Shield of Eternal Unity, a ceremonial shield of burnished silver inlaid with mother-of-pearl and engraved with the crests of Wei and Liang intertwined. Its inscription, “In strength and harmony, may your bond be unbreakable,” emphasized protection and unity. Perhaps his most thoughtful gift was the Garden of Moonlit Dreams, a promise to design and fund a tranquil garden at the couple’s Qinghai estate. Featuring rare flowering trees that bloom under moonlight, a koi pond, lantern-lit pathways, and a pavilion for reflection, the garden symbolized peace and balance, echoing Xie Tai Shan’s wishes for their happiness.
The most personal and poignant offering was the Phoenix Tear Pendant, a delicate ruby pendant in gold filigree that had belonged to Yuwen Yue’s mother. As he handed the pendant to Yuwen Yue, Xie Tai Shan spoke with quiet emotion: “This pendant is a piece of your mother’s legacy, a reminder of the love and courage she carried within her. May it guide you as you build a future of your own.” To Chu Qiao, he presented the Shield of Eternal Unity, saying, “You have proven yourself a beacon of resilience and honor. May this shield remind you that strength lies in unity, and that this family will always stand with you.” The ceremony reached a breathtaking crescendo as the Cangwu birds were released, their synchronized flight symbolizing the beauty and harmony Xie Tai Shan wished for the couple.
Master Xie Tai Shan’s dowries were more than a display of wealth; they were a testament to his refined sensibilities, deep familial pride, and steadfast support for Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao. From the Jade Crane of Prosperity to the Phoenix Tear Pendant, each gift carried profound meaning, seamlessly blending the traditions of Wei and Liang while celebrating the unique bond between the couple. These offerings were not merely material contributions but acts of love and legacy, ensuring his presence in their lives would be remembered with gratitude and reverence.
Among the many treasures presented by Master Xie Tai Shan, none carried as much symbolic weight as the sword forged from his family’s renowned blacksmithing lineage in Wei. This masterpiece, named Feng Lian (Phoenix Bond), was a personal gift to Chu Qiao, paying tribute to her strength, resilience, and unwavering leadership. The sword, steeped in tradition and artistry, reflected Xie Tai Shan’s profound respect for Chu Qiao and his dedication to preserving the legacy of his family.
The Sword of Unity was a marvel of design and craftsmanship, blending beauty and power in perfect harmony. Its blade, forged from rare Wei steel, shimmered with an ethereal iridescence, its edge honed to razor-sharp perfection. Along its length, intricate etchings of lotus flowers and phoenix feathers intertwined, symbolizing the union of grace and strength. The hilt, wrapped in luxurious black silk and adorned with gold filigree, featured a crescent moon-shaped sapphire at its center—a representation of clarity and resilience even in darkness. The crossguard, carved into the shape of a hawk’s wing paired with a phoenix’s wing, captured the unity of Chu Qiao’s warrior spirit and her new life with Yuwen Yue. Every element of the sword reflected careful thought, embodying qualities that defined Chu Qiao as both a leader and a beacon of hope.
The sword’s symbolism extended beyond its craftsmanship. It celebrated Chu Qiao’s journey of transformation, her triumphs through adversity, and her ability to wield power with honor and wisdom. The lotus and phoenix motifs reinforced themes of rebirth and resilience, while the name Feng Lian signified a bond forged through fire and hardship, echoing both Chu Qiao’s personal path and her union with Yuwen Yue.
The ceremonial presentation of the sword was a moment of reverence and admiration. Carried in an ornate lacquered box lined with velvet and marked with the insignia of Xie Tai Shan’s blacksmithing lineage—a coiled dragon encircling a forge—the sword was unveiled to the gathered dignitaries, its brilliance catching the sunlight. As the crowd murmured in awe, Xie Tai Shan stepped forward and personally handed the sword to Chu Qiao. Bowing deeply, he addressed her with solemnity: “This sword, forged by hands guided by tradition and shaped by fire, is a gift from my family to you, Lady Chu Qiao. It is not just a weapon but a symbol of your strength and the unity you have inspired in those who follow you. May it protect and empower you as you continue to carve your path of honor and justice.”
Chu Qiao accepted the sword with grace, her fingers tracing the intricate etchings as she absorbed the weight of the gesture. Her eyes reflected gratitude and resolve as she responded: “This blade is not merely a weapon; it is a reminder of the bonds we forge through trust and respect. I will carry it with pride, knowing it bears the legacy of your family and the strength of our shared path.” Her words resonated deeply, capturing the essence of the moment and the significance of the gift.
The Sword of Unity was more than a dowry; it was a timeless artifact symbolizing Chu Qiao’s indomitable spirit and the respect she had earned. Through this gift, Master Xie Tai Shan bridged the traditions of Wei’s blacksmithing heritage with the values of loyalty and resilience that Chu Qiao embodied. It stood as a testament to her journey, the unity she shared with Yuwen Yue, and the admiration she garnered from one of his closest familial ties. This extraordinary dowry carried both legacy and hope, ensuring its place as a cherished reminder of strength, unity, and honor.
Fourth Branch of the Yuwen Household: Courtesy of Greenhills Courtyard – A Legacy of Cold Weapons
Yuwen Gao, the Grand Master Archer of the Wei Empire and a revered figure whose expertise shaped the cold armaments of the realm, presented his dowry to Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao with a grandeur befitting the Eyes of God’s storied legacy. As both a mentor to Yuwen Yue and a guardian of their family’s martial traditions, Yuwen Gao’s offerings reflected not only his unparalleled mastery but also the profound values that defined the Yuwen household. His dowry was a blend of history, craftsmanship, and lethal elegance, symbolizing the precision and discipline that had shaped generations of warriors.
The procession of Yuwen Gao’s dowries was a spectacle of martial excellence, showcasing the deep blue and silver colors of the Eyes of God. Soldiers and attendants carried the offerings with solemn reverence, while elite archers flanked the convoy, their quivers filled with arrows bearing Yuwen Gao’s signature designs. At the heart of the procession were wagons laden with weapons and artifacts from the legendary arsenal housed in the Greenhills Courtyard. Among the treasures were swords, spears, bows, and even deadly hidden weapons, their polished steel gleaming in the sunlight. However, the crowning jewel of the procession was the fabled Bing Xue Arrows, sealed in a tempered glass and silver case. These rare arrows, forged from snow ice and infused with moonlight, embodied the precision and lethality of the Yuwen family’s legacy.
Yuwen Gao’s dowries were more than tools of war; they were symbols of the values that had defined his lineage. The Bing Xue Arrows were the centerpiece of his offerings, each carrying unique properties and profound symbolism. The Arrow of Bitter Moon froze its target and left a lingering psychological impact, sowing bitterness and despair. The Arrow of Holiday Moon, devastating in its precision, could obliterate entire perimeters with its mastery of wind and force. The Arrow of Budding Moon, subtle yet powerful, disrupted its target’s ambitions, ensuring their defeat over time. Encased in protective boxes, these arrows were as fragile and rare as they were deadly, representing discipline, foresight, and the responsibility that comes with power.
To Chu Qiao, Yuwen Gao presented a sword named Yue Fen (Moon’s Edge), a masterpiece forged from the finest Wei steel. The blade, etched with symbols of unity and resilience, reflected her role in uniting factions under a common cause. Its hilt, adorned with jade and gold, was crafted to honor her leadership and strength. The sword symbolized clarity and decisiveness, qualities Chu Qiao had displayed time and again in the face of chaos. For Yuwen Yue, Yuwen Gao gifted the Kai Yuan Bow, a legendary weapon celebrated for its unmatched accuracy and power. Crafted from bamboo and composite materials, it featured a customized grip and reinforced string, making it a bow worthy of a master archer. More than a weapon, the bow symbolized the bond between father and son, mentor and protégé, and the trust Yuwen Gao placed in Yuwen Yue’s abilities.
The dowry also included an array of weapons from the Eyes of God’s Firelight Arsenal, ensuring the couple’s readiness for any challenge. Flexible weapons like rope darts and chain whips demonstrated the versatility of their training, while throwing weapons such as shuriken and knives embodied precision and stealth. Blades, spears, and staves forged for the battlefield rounded out the arsenal, each a testament to the Yuwen family’s martial legacy.
Yuwen Gao’s presence during the presentation added gravitas to the occasion. Escorting Yuwen Yue to the grand storeroom of the Eyes of God, he unveiled the legendary arsenal with solemn pride. As the Bing Xue Arrows were revealed, he addressed Yuwen Yue with wisdom borne of years of mastery: “These arrows are not merely weapons; they are reminders of discipline, precision, and the weight of responsibility. Use them wisely, for their power is as fleeting as the snow they are made from.” Presenting the Kai Yuan Bow, he continued, “This bow represents the bond between father and son, master and student. May it serve you well in safeguarding the legacy of our house.” To Chu Qiao, he presented Yue Fen with a deep bow and heartfelt words: “Lady Chu Qiao, you have proven yourself a leader of unmatched strength and integrity. This sword is both a weapon and a testament to the respect you have earned.”
Yuwen Gao’s dowries were more than gifts; they were a tribute to the couple’s strength, unity, and the values they embodied. The weapons symbolized the precision and discipline of the Yuwen family, while the presentation itself was a reminder of the honor and burden that came with their roles as leaders. In the glow of firelight and the shadows of the Eyes of God’s arsenal, Yuwen Gao’s offerings stood as a timeless testament to the couple’s journey, equipping them with the tools and wisdom to face the challenges ahead.
Yuwen Gao, the revered Third Generation Mohist Master of the Wei Empire and the formidable head of the Greenhills Courtyard, arrived with gifts of monumental significance for Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao. Known for his razor-sharp intellect and even sharper tongue, Yuwen Gao ensured that his dowry presentation was as much a testament to the Mohist legacy as it was a thoroughly entertaining roast of his grandson. Balancing gravitas and humor, he unveiled heirlooms steeped in tradition while taking every opportunity to poke fun at Yuwen Yue’s infamous—and, in his words, ridiculous—endeavors with the Bing Xue arrows.
Yuwen Gao, the esteemed Third Generation Mohist Master of the Wei Empire and head of the Greenhills Courtyard, arrived at Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao’s ceremony bearing gifts of immense significance. Known equally for his intellect and his sharp wit, Yuwen Gao transformed his dowry presentation into an engaging blend of solemn tradition and merciless humor. With every artifact unveiled, he masterfully balanced the weight of the Mohist legacy with his playful critiques of Yuwen Yue’s exploits—particularly his infamous experiments with the Bing Xue arrows, which Gao dubbed “entertaining but ultimately misguided.”
The heirlooms Yuwen Gao presented were steeped in history and engineering brilliance, each designed to embody the principles of justice, ingenuity, and resilience that defined the Mohist Order. Among the treasures was the Mohist Gear of Shadows, a small yet intricate device capable of transforming into various tools, from a grappling hook to a blade. Handing it to Yuwen Yue, Gao remarked, “This is for when you inevitably find yourself dangling from a cliff or trapped in a spy’s dungeon. Knowing you, both are equally likely.” Next came the Skyshield Cloak, a feather-light garment laced with Mohist steel threads, rendering it impervious to blades and arrows. “Try not to test its limits by standing in front of a siege engine, Yue’er,” Gao warned with a smirk. “It’s a cloak, not a miracle.”
The Compass of Eternal Paths, another marvel of Mohist engineering, promised to guide its wielder through treacherous terrains with unparalleled precision. Yet even this extraordinary tool wasn’t spared from Gao’s humor. “If this doesn’t guide you, Yue’er,” he said, “it means you’re lost not in the mountains, but in your own stubbornness.” Finally, Gao unveiled the Silent Song Blade, a weapon of exceptional craftsmanship that emitted a soft, haunting hum when drawn, symbolizing precision and restraint. Offering it with a raised eyebrow, he added, “Don’t use it to chop vegetables. And if you do, don’t tell me.”
Yuwen Gao’s presentation was more than just the passing of heirlooms; it was a masterful performance that left the gathered crowd entertained and deeply moved. His artifacts carried the weight of the Mohist Order’s storied history, yet his humor ensured that the event remained lighthearted and unforgettable. With these gifts, Gao not only equipped Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao for their journey ahead but also reminded them of the importance of balance—between strength and compassion, tradition and innovation, and, perhaps most importantly, seriousness and humor.
As the heirlooms were admired, Yuwen Gao’s attention turned to one of Yuwen Yue’s more… creative endeavors—the production of the legendary Bing Xue arrows, which he called “the most glorified popsicles in weaponry history.”
With a theatrical sigh and his hands clasped behind his back, Yuwen Gao launched into his critique. “Yue’er, when I first heard about the Bing Xue arrows, I thought, ‘Finally, my grandson has surpassed even my brilliance.’ But then I saw one of those glorified icicles, and I knew… my legacy is safe.”
“Snow ice arrows, infused with moonlight, crafted under the bitter moon—you’ve turned weapon-making into a poetry class!” Yuwen Gao’s words sent ripples of laughter through the assembled crowd. “You had the Eyes of God smiths producing these fragile ice sculptures, convincing everyone they were the pinnacle of cold weaponry. You’re lucky your enemies didn’t laugh themselves to death before these arrows melted.”
He gestured dramatically to an empty spot in the courtyard. “Look, Yue’er, the sun is shining—where are your precious Bing Xue arrows now? Oh, right. Puddles on the floor!”
A Formal Ban on the Bing Xue Arrows
“I hereby declare,” Yuwen Gao continued, his voice booming with mock severity, “that the production of Bing Xue arrows must stop immediately. This is not a request—it’s an intervention.”
Turning to the audience, he elaborated with a smirk, “Do you know how much effort goes into making these things? Three arrows a year, stored in ice caves, carried around in specially crafted coolers, and only usable during winter? Yue’er, if you applied this much effort to something useful, like running Qinghai, we’d all be living in paradise by now!”
To ensure the demise of the Bing Xue arrows, Yuwen Gao proudly announced that he had brought the Greenhills Courtyard’s master smiths to Qinghai. “I’m giving you the best smiths and bow-makers in the empire. Their only instruction: make something that doesn’t evaporate in the sun.”
Pausing for effect, he added, “And Yue’er, if I hear that you’ve asked these smiths to carve arrows out of hailstones or frost flowers, I’m personally taking them back.”
Turning to Chu Qiao, Yuwen Gao’s tone softened, though his humor remained intact. “Mimi Gongzhu,” he greeted with a deep bow. “Welcome to the Yuwen family. I always suspected Yue’er might never sacrifice you, but instead, he sacrificed himself—plunging into icy lakes, dismantling the Eyes of God, wandering aimlessly in Qinghai. All this, just to find you again. If that isn’t love, it’s at least impressive stubbornness.”
He continued with a twinkle in his eye, “Today, we honor you with the highest respect in our Elder Shrine. You’ve not only earned the devotion of my foolhardy grandson but also the admiration of this old man.”
Finally, addressing the gathered court, Yuwen Gao stood tall, his voice a mix of humor and authority. “Today, we celebrate not just this union, but the heir to the Eyes of God, Yuwen Yue. From the halls of the Greenhills Courtyard to the distant reaches of Qinghai, may you carry our legacy with honor. And please, Yue’er, no more fake Bing Xue arrows.”
Yuwen Gao’s presentation was a masterclass in blending solemn tradition with biting wit. His heirlooms carried profound symbolic meaning, but it was his sharp commentary on the Bing Xue arrows that stole the show. The audience left the ceremony with both tears of laughter and admiration for the indomitable spirit of the Yuwen family. Chu Qiao, delighted by Yuwen Gao’s warmth and humor, saw firsthand the strength of the legacy she was now part of—and perhaps silently agreed that the Bing Xue arrows were better left to legend.
Grand Dowager Empress Lu Zhi, the revered mother of Xiao Ce and a figure of profound wisdom and affection, presented a dowry steeped in imperial majesty, maternal care, and the strategic foresight of a seasoned ruler. Her offerings spoke volumes of her deep admiration for Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao, her affection for Xiao Ce’s cherished friends, and her aspiration to strengthen the enduring bond between Liang and Qinghai. Each gift was imbued with a blend of grandeur, symbolism, and personal sentiment, reflecting both the Empress’s grace and Liang’s cultural heritage.
The dowries arrived in a breathtaking procession, meticulously choreographed to embody Liang’s splendor and the Empress’s heartfelt blessings. Regal attendants, clad in crimson and gold armor, led the parade, their spears adorned with banners bearing Empress Lu Zhi’s phoenix emblem. Gilded carriages, inlaid with jade and pearl, carried treasures that shimmered under the sunlight, while court musicians played melodious tunes that celebrated unity and friendship. Scholars recited verses extolling the couple’s virtues, their voices weaving poetry into the air. At the heart of this spectacle, the Phoenix Palanquin—symbolizing the Empress’s presence and blessing—stood as the procession’s crowning jewel.
Among the treasures was the Phoenix Seal of Benevolence, a jade masterpiece carved with the image of a phoenix in flight, symbolizing unity and wisdom in leadership. Bolts of the Imperial Silks of Liang, woven in crimson, gold, and silver with intricate embroidery of phoenixes and lotuses, represented the elegance and prosperity of Liang’s blessings. The Treasure of Twin Lotuses, two golden sculptures encrusted with emeralds and diamonds, embodied harmony and flourishing bonds, while the Golden Pavilion of Reflection, a miniature replica of Liang’s famed sanctuary, encouraged introspection and wisdom.
A Scroll of Heavenly Strategies, compiled and annotated by the Empress herself, conveyed the value of intellect and strategic foresight in governance and diplomacy. The Songbirds of Tranquility, rare creatures housed in a jade-embellished cage, symbolized the joy of companionship and the harmony of their union. To honor their strength, the Empress gifted the Crescent Moon Blades, ceremonial daggers representing balance and protection. Finally, the Eternal Garden Charter offered the design and resources for a grand garden in Qinghai, mirroring Liang’s imperial gardens, symbolizing renewal, peace, and shared aspirations.
A personal letter accompanied these gifts, filled with the Empress’s heartfelt wisdom. She wrote to Chu Qiao, “My child, your journey has been one of courage and grace. You are a phoenix who has risen from ashes to soar, a testament to resilience and love. And to Yuwen Yue, steadfast and wise, you have proven yourself a beacon of justice and strength. Together, you are an inspiration to all who follow in your footsteps.”
In her signature blend of regal poise, maternal affection, and a touch of playful scolding, Grand Dowager Empress Lu Zhi delivered a heartfelt and humorous address to Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao on the occasion of their union. Her words carried the weight of wisdom, a sprinkle of nostalgia, and the warmth of a family member who had always rooted for their happiness.
To Chu Qiao: “My child, I always thought you and Xiao Ce would meet at the end of your journeys, and for a fleeting moment, you did—you became the Empress of Liang, even if only for a heartbeat. But fate, in its mysterious ways, carried you beyond Liang’s halls and into the life you were destined for. I knew you would find the empty cenotaph; I knew Xiao Ce’s final gift to you was his freedom, a testament to his love and understanding of your unyielding spirit. No more broken hearts for you, my phoenix. No more silent bids on blind dates. You have found your place, your partner, and your happiness. For that, I am endlessly grateful.”
Pausing, she added with a smile, “Thank you for running my Kowloon House as its finest chef. We missed your spice, literally and metaphorically. Mei Xiang wanted to be here today, but her pregnancy keeps her at home. She sends her love and this gift—an apron embroidered with Liang’s crest, as a reminder of the home you’ll always have with us. Please, never hesitate to visit us in Liang. We are your family and always will be.”
To Yuwen Yue: Turning her attention to Yuwen Yue, the Empress’s tone softened with an undercurrent of playful reproach. “Ah, Yuwen Yue, the great Fourth Young Master of Yuwen Household, crown prince of Qinghai. Or should I say… the humble peddler? You played the part so well that even I, in all my wisdom, believed you. You tricked me into thinking you were poor, struggling, a man who loved nothing more than hard work and hardships. All along, you harbored a heart more wealthy in love than I could have imagined.”
Her gaze grew piercing but amused. “Even then, I always knew. I knew you loved her more than you dared show, even when you wore masks of stoicism. I wished you would end up together, and you did—first in that rushed, scandalous wedding, and now here, before all who cherish you. But Yuwen Yue, tell me, what did you do? I was gone for only a day, and when I returned to my Kowloon House, you had whisked away my best chef! What do you expect me to do now? Tending to Xiao Ce’s children is work enough, and now you’ve promoted me—yes, promoted—to grandmother.”
She chuckled, her sharp wit giving way to genuine warmth. “Congratulations, Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao, on your second wedding! Best wishes to you both, not just for this day, but for the countless days ahead. May your union be as resilient as the stars and as bright as the phoenix’s flame. You deserve all the happiness this world can give—and perhaps just a bit more.”
The Grand Dowager Empress’s message ended as it began—with laughter, love, and a reminder that family, no matter where it was found, would always remain.
“Yuwen Yue, take care of her. Chu Qiao, keep him on his toes. And don’t forget to visit! After all, I’ll need someone to taste-test the food when Mei Xiang is too busy chasing little ones. You are Liang’s family, and you are my family. Congratulations to you both, my dear children.”
Sun Di, the wise and pragmatic Governor of Liang, brought gifts that reflected his deep respect for Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue, as well as his recognition of their union’s significance. Known for his sharp wit and diplomatic acumen, Sun Di selected dowries that blended practical utility with symbolic depth, showcasing his belief in the couple’s ability to forge a future rooted in strength, wisdom, and unity.
Sun Di’s primary gift to the couple was the Scroll of Eternal Harmony, a beautifully illustrated manuscript containing wisdom from Liang’s greatest philosophers and strategists. Bound in silk and inscribed with gold ink, the scroll offered guidance on leadership, governance, and the balance of power and compassion. Sun Di presented it to Yuwen Yue, saying, “For a man whose brilliance has shaped realms, may this offer insights for the challenges yet to come.” Alongside this, he gifted Chu Qiao a Jade Lotus Seal, a delicate artifact symbolizing enlightenment and resilience. Carved from flawless green jade and mounted on an ebony base, the seal was a token of Sun Di’s admiration for her courage and clarity of vision. “For the phoenix who has risen through flames,” he remarked with a bow, “may this remind you of the strength you carry.”
Practicality was not overlooked in Sun Di’s offerings. He provided the couple with The Golden Grain Chest, a container filled with rare seeds from Liang’s fertile plains, capable of cultivating crops that thrived even in harsh climates. This gift symbolized prosperity and sustainability, reflecting Sun Di’s hopes for a bountiful future for their household and the lands under their stewardship. “Leadership is not only about war and peace,” Sun Di said. “It is also about ensuring the land provides for its people. May this chest bring abundance to Qinghai and beyond.”
For their household, Sun Di commissioned a Dragon and Phoenix Fountain, a marble structure depicting the two mythical creatures in harmonious flight. Designed to grace the courtyard of their estate, the fountain was both a decorative masterpiece and a symbol of unity and balance in their partnership. Sun Di humorously added, “Let this be the place where you cool your tempers when strategy becomes a little too spirited.” To ensure their continued connection to Liang, Sun Di included a Lifetime Trade Charter, granting the couple exclusive trade rights with Liang’s markets. This gesture not only strengthened ties between Qinghai and Liang but also underscored Sun Di’s trust in their leadership.
Sun Di’s presentation was a blend of formality and warmth. Standing before the gathered audience, he addressed the couple with characteristic eloquence: “Chu Qiao, Yuwen Yue, your union is not merely the merging of two hearts but the convergence of two great forces destined to shape history. These gifts, though humble compared to your vision, carry the hopes of Liang and its people for your prosperity and success.”
His final gift was a Silver Hourglass, a timepiece crafted with extraordinary precision, its flowing sands representing the passage of time and the opportunities it brings. Handing it to Yuwen Yue, Sun Di added with a wry smile, “For the man who always knows when to act, may this remind you that even the wisest need a moment to pause.”
Sun Di’s gifts, imbued with wisdom, practicality, and symbolic richness, were a testament to his belief in Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue’s leadership. They reflected not only his respect for their journey but also his unwavering hope for a future where their combined strength and compassion would illuminate the realms.
Sun Di, with his characteristic wit and wisdom, couldn’t resist adding a playful remark as he presented his gifts to Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue. Standing before the couple with an air of mock seriousness, he began, “Chu Qiao, once the almost Empress of Liang, now the undisputed Queen of Qinghai—your journey has been one for the poets. To think, you managed to escape the grandeur of Liang’s imperial palace only to find yourself tangled with the so-called Masked Prince, Ra Yue, who turned out to be none other than Yuwen Yue himself.”
Turning to Chu Qiao, he teased, “You must tell us someday, did you see through his disguise, or were you really charmed by the ‘humble peddler’ act? Either way, you’ve traded a golden throne for a masked prince and somehow turned him into a king. That is a feat no Empress could rival.”
Facing Yuwen Yue with a sly smile, Sun Di continued, “And you, Yuwen Yue—or should I say, Ra Yue—what an elaborate scheme to win a heart. You went from enigmatic wanderer to Qinghai’s ruler, all for the sake of love. Let this be a lesson to all present: true strategy isn’t just about winning battles but securing the loyalty of a woman like Chu Qiao. That, my friend, is the art of the ages.”
Shifting his tone to one of sincerity, Sun Di addressed them both. “In all seriousness, the path you have walked is one few could endure, let alone conquer. From courts of intrigue to battlefields of chaos, you have defied the odds and emerged as leaders who command respect and devotion. Yuwen Yue, your steadfast resolve has shaped realms. Chu Qiao, your strength and courage have inspired countless lives. Together, you are a force that transcends titles, crowns, and kingdoms.”
He concluded with a bow and a chuckle, “So, whether as Empress of Liang or Queen of Qinghai, you have shown us all that the only title that truly matters is the one you bestow upon yourself. And Yuwen Yue, as the masked prince or the unmasked king, you have proven that no disguise can hide a heart so loyal. May your union be as enduring as the wisdom I have imparted—and as unpredictable as the paths you have both traveled to reach this day.”
Xiao Qi and Xiao Ba, the ever-loyal and spirited siblings of Chu Qiao, presented gifts that perfectly encapsulated their unique personalities and deep bond with their beloved sister. Their dowries were a mix of practicality, humor, and heartfelt sentiment, each reflecting their admiration for Chu Qiao and their grudging respect for Yuwen Yue. These offerings served as tokens of their shared history, protective love, and unwavering support for the couple’s future.
Xiao Qi’s primary gift to Chu Qiao was the Eternal Compass Pendant, a delicate silver piece with a jade-tipped needle that glowed softly under the moonlight. The compass, which doubled as a secret compartment for tiny scrolls, symbolized Chu Qiao’s unparalleled ability to lead and inspire, even in the darkest moments. “For the sister who’s always known the way,” Xiao Qi remarked with affection, “may this remind you of the light you are to us all.”
Xiao Ba, meanwhile, offered the Laughing Blade, a slender dagger with a hilt shaped like a laughing phoenix. Playful yet deadly, the dagger was a nod to Chu Qiao’s fierce spirit and Xiao Ba’s ever-present humor. “Perfect for cutting apples—or making a point,” Xiao Ba quipped with a mischievous grin.
Together, the siblings gifted Chu Qiao a Memory Quilt, painstakingly hand-stitched from pieces of fabric collected during their travels and battles. Each patch told a story—Yanbei’s hawk, Liang’s lotus, and even a piece of Yuwen Yue’s old cloak, “borrowed” without permission. The quilt symbolized their shared past and the warmth they found in each other’s company. “When you and Yue have a moment to rest,” Xiao Qi said, “wrap yourselves in this and remember the family who’d still fight for you.”
For the couple’s home, they presented the Flame Lantern Set, a pair of bronze and glass lanterns etched with phoenixes and hawks. Representing resilience and unity, the lanterns came with Xiao Ba’s cheeky advice: “Not that Yue needs any help looking brooding in the dark, but here you go.”
For Yuwen Yue, Xiao Ba offered the Phoenix Blade, a ceremonial sword engraved with flames and adorned with a hilt shaped like a phoenix claw. With her characteristic flair, Xiao Ba remarked, “For a man who already has every weapon imaginable, here’s one more. But this one’s special—it’s blessed by me.”
Xiao Qi, more reserved but equally thoughtful, presented Yuwen Yue with a Sparrow Pendant, an obsidian charm on a leather cord. The sparrow, symbolizing loyalty and freedom, was Xiao Qi’s way of acknowledging Yuwen Yue’s role in giving Chu Qiao the wings to soar. “You gave her freedom,” Xiao Qi said seriously. “This is to remind you that she’s not just your partner—she’s your equal in every way.”
The siblings presented their gifts during the reception, injecting their characteristic humor and warmth into the proceedings. Xiao Ba, handing the Phoenix Blade to Yuwen Yue, teased, “Don’t forget how lucky you are to have her—or imagine me glaring at you while holding this blade.” Xiao Qi, more heartfelt, gave the compass to Chu Qiao with a smile and added, “Even warriors need a reminder of home. For us, you’ve always been that home.”
Their gifts, infused with humor, sincerity, and profound love, were more than tokens—they were pieces of their shared history and their hope for the couple’s future. Through their thoughtful gestures and playful words, Xiao Qi and Xiao Ba ensured that their bond with Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue would remain an enduring presence in their lives.
Wedding of the Century
The day of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao’s wedding dawned with an air of anticipation that swept across Qinghai like a rising tide. Nobles, warriors, and dignitaries from every corner of the Ximeng Continent had gathered for a ceremony that promised to be as extraordinary as the couple themselves. The grandeur of the event was rivaled only by the unique twists and surprises that unfolded, each a testament to the creativity, drama, and unmatched brilliance of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao.
In a departure from tradition, it was Chu Qiao who stood waiting at the end of the aisle, dressed in a phoenix-red gown that shimmered with gold embroidery, her veil edged with tiny, glowing lanterns. Her eyes reflected both her fierce spirit and the tenderness reserved for the man who had walked through fire and ice for her. Around her, the grand hall had been transformed into a celestial garden, with flowers blooming from enchanted vines, glowing crystals hanging like stars, and a canopy of fireflies casting a magical glow.
Viper, resplendent in his overly flamboyant bridesmaid attire, whispered to Chu Qiao, “Don’t look so serious. You’re about to marry the man who parachutes into his own wedding like a circus act.”
Chu Qiao rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the slight curve of her lips. “Let’s see if he actually pulls it off.”
All eyes turned skyward as a massive white rabbit-shaped hot air balloon appeared in the sky, its enormous ears flapping in the wind. Atop it stood Yuwen Yue, dressed in a flowing white robe adorned with Qinghai’s insignia, his hair bound with a golden crown that glinted in the sunlight. Yue Qi and Zuo Zong flanked him, both gripping the ropes of the balloon with expressions ranging from grim determination to mild terror.
As the rabbit balloon descended gracefully, the crowd erupted into murmurs of astonishment and amusement. Yuan Yang groaned loudly, throwing up his hands. “Why is the groom descending from the heavens? Isn’t the bride supposed to make the dramatic entrance?”
Yuan Che, shaking his head, added, “He always has to make everything about strategy. This is probably some symbolic display of Qinghai’s air superiority.”
The balloon slowed just above the aisle, and suddenly, the three men leapt off, deploying parachutes embroidered with Qinghai’s dragon insignia. The crowd gasped as Yuwen Yue landed effortlessly in front of Chu Qiao, his descent marked by a trail of glittering fireworks. Yue Qi and Zuo Zong followed, their landings slightly less graceful but no less dramatic.
Yuwen Yue stepped forward, offering his hand to Chu Qiao. “You’ve always been the one waiting for me,” he said softly, his voice carrying across the silent hall. “This time, I’ll walk to you.” (LOL)
Before the awe could settle, the Black Sun Pirates made their entrance, swinging from ropes attached to massive, ornate chandeliers. Mo’er, in his signature velvet coat, somersaulted mid-air before landing near the aisle with a bow so exaggerated it made the dignitaries chuckle.
Yuan Che buried his face in his hands. “Not again,” he muttered, remembering the infamous ghost warfare Yuwen Yue had orchestrated to capture the Wei generals.
The pirates followed Mo’er’s lead, scattering petals and offering mock salutes to the bride and groom. One pirate tripped, sending a cascade of petals into a Wei general’s wine goblet, who laughed heartily. “It’s just like the Freedom Community all over again!”
With the groom now by her side, Chu Qiao took Yuwen Yue’s arm, and together they walked down the aisle lined with glowing lanterns and cascading silver light. Acrobats performed gravity-defying stunts above them, their movements synchronized with a hauntingly beautiful melody played by an ensemble of celestial musicians. The pathway sparkled with stardust, a trail that seemed to lead them not just to their altar but to a shared destiny.
Viper and Meng Feng leaned toward Yue Qi, whispering, “Shouldn’t there have been a rehearsed dance by now? Or maybe a spontaneous duel? This is almost too romantic.”
At the altar, Yuwen Yue surprised everyone by unveiling a performance involving the infamous Bing Xue Arrows, Qinghai’s coldest and most dangerous weapons. With a single pull of his bow, he shot three arrows into the air. Each arrow burst mid-flight into a dazzling display of frost and light, forming intricate shapes of dragons, phoenixes, and lotuses. The audience gasped as the icy fragments fell like snowflakes, leaving the air shimmering.
“Show-off,” Zuo Zong muttered under his breath, though even he couldn’t suppress a grin.
To honor the union, Yuwen Yue performed a stunning display of martial prowess, wielding the famed Bing Xue Arrows. The crowd gasped as he fired the ice-infused arrows into the sky, each one exploding into shimmering snowflakes that formed intricate patterns of dragons and phoenixes.
“Of course, Yue’er has to outshine even his own wedding,” Ra Zhun joked, earning chuckles from the audience.
As the ceremony concluded, the guests were ushered into a sprawling banquet hall where the celebrations continued. The room was illuminated by floating orbs of light that changed color with the music. Acrobats and dancers performed alongside Jianghu martial artists, their movements choreographed to tell the story of Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue’s journey.
Fireworks lit up the night sky, creating an array of shapes and symbols that told the tale of their love, from their first meeting to their fiercest battles and ultimate reunion. A massive phoenix and dragon intertwined in the finale, their fiery forms embracing before dissolving into a cascade of golden sparks.
Amidst the revelry, a hush fell over the hall as a figure clad in black entered unannounced. Yan Xun, his presence as commanding as ever, walked with slow, deliberate steps, his eyes scanning the room until they rested on Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue.
The air grew tense as he approached, his expression unreadable. Stopping before them, he inclined his head slightly. “I heard there was a wedding worth witnessing.”
Yuwen Yue met his gaze steadily. “You’re late.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Yan Xun replied, his tone sharp but carrying a hint of grudging respect. He turned to Chu Qiao. “You look… happy. It suits you.”
Chu Qiao’s voice was calm, though her eyes held an edge of challenge. “I am. And I hope you’ll find your own peace someday.”
Yan Xun chuckled darkly. “Peace isn’t in my nature. But I’ll raise a glass to yours.” With that, he stepped back into the crowd, his presence lingering like a shadow despite the brightness of the occasion.
Qinghai’s Enthronement Ceremony
The day after the spectacular wedding, the eyes of the Ximeng Continent turned once more to Qinghai for the long-awaited Enthronement Ceremony of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao as King and Queen of Qinghai. The Qinghai palace courtyard, transformed into an ethereal setting of opulence and reverence, welcomed nobles, ministers, and allies from across the continent. It was an event as grand as it was political, steeped in tradition, strategy, and symbolism.
Chu Qiao’s entrance silenced the crowd, her aura commanding and breathtaking. She wore a regal gown of phoenix-red silk, embroidered with intricate gold-thread phoenixes rising amidst flames, a symbol of her indomitable spirit and rebirth. The fabric shimmered like liquid fire, moving fluidly as she walked. A high collar framed her neck, while long, flowing sleeves extended with intricate golden cuffs adorned with tiny bells that chimed softly with her every step. Her waist was cinched by a golden sash studded with rubies, and her train, several meters long, was carried by attendants dressed in Qinghai’s traditional silver robes.
Her hair was a masterful composition of elegance and strength, pinned up in a towering cascade of intricate braids and adorned with a phoenix crown encrusted with blood-red rubies and pearls. The crown’s wings extended upward, creating an almost divine aura. Her sharp, intelligent eyes surveyed the crowd, her expression calm yet resolute. Her presence alone seemed to declare, “This is my destiny.”
Yuwen Yue stood at the altar, already a vision of stately grandeur. He wore a flowing robe of pristine white silk, embroidered with golden dragons winding around the fabric, their scales shimmering as if alive. His high collar and wide sleeves gave him the bearing of an emperor, while the deep blue sash at his waist symbolized Qinghai’s waters and his dominion over them.
His hair, tied in a topknot with a golden clasp, gleamed under the sunlight. His piercing eyes—cold and calculating yet deeply focused—seemed to draw the attention of everyone in the courtyard. His commanding posture and measured steps exuded the quiet power of a ruler who had already weathered countless storms. As he stood beside Chu Qiao, the contrast between her fiery regality and his icy calm created a balance that left the crowd awestruck.
As the eunuchs approached with the symbols of Qinghai’s sovereignty, the entire gathering held its breath.
A magnificent golden circlet adorned with blue sapphire dragons, each holding a pearl in its mouth. The crown’s centerpiece was a radiant white gem, symbolizing purity and wisdom in leadership.
A matching golden tiara with phoenixes encircling the base, their feathers inlaid with rubies and emeralds. The centerpiece was a glowing fire opal, symbolizing resilience and unyielding strength.
A gilded rod crowned with a miniature replica of Qinghai’s mountain ranges, studded with aquamarines and diamonds to signify the unity of its people and nature.
The head eunuch, dressed in ceremonial gold and blue robes, stepped forward to address the assembly with a voice that carried across the vast courtyard:
“Behold, the chosen leaders of Qinghai, King Yuwen Yue and Queen Chu Qiao! Through their wisdom, courage, and sacrifices, they have united our lands, brought prosperity to our people, and forged alliances that ensure the peace and glory of Qinghai. By the grace of the heavens and the will of the people, we crown them today as the eternal guardians of our kingdom.”
As the crowns were placed on their heads, the courtyard erupted into thunderous applause. Ministers, nobles, and guests bowed deeply, their voices raised in unison: “Long live the King and Queen of Qinghai!”
Standing near the newly crowned rulers, Ra Zheng maintained his usual stoic demeanor, though a glint of pride flickered in his eyes as his spy networks had played a crucial role in this momentous occasion. Ra Zhun, on the other hand, offered an exaggerated bow, winking at Chu Qiao and whispering to Ra Zheng, “Perhaps now Yue’er will let us use those fancy fireworks in the underworld.”
Ever the theatrical, Zao Baocung clapped exuberantly and declared, “This is the kind of moment that calls for a Moon Kingdom Lantern Festival… in Qinghai! I’ll handle the arrangements. Free mooncakes for all!”
The celestial envoys nodded approvingly, whispering among themselves about the unity between their mystical realm and Qinghai, with plans to deepen their alliances.
The Great Summer Emperor observed the proceedings with measured satisfaction, his gaze lingering on Yuwen Yue as he silently acknowledged his once-loyal subject’s rise to sovereignty.
Yuan Song’s serene smile reflected his contentment as he stood beside Ping’An. “Who would’ve thought we’d see this day?” he murmured. Ping’An, ever the stoic monk, added, “The heavens are just.”
Lou He, standing amidst the dignitaries, watched with pride glimmering in her eyes. “My daughter, you have surpassed every storm,” she whispered. “Now rule with the grace and strength I have always known in you.”
Yuan Yang rolled his eyes at the spectacle, muttering to his brother, “First the rabbit balloon, now this. Does Yuwen Yue always have to outshine everyone?” Yuan Che smirked. “It’s Qinghai. Let him have his moment.”
True to their flamboyant nature, Mo’er’s crew let out a series of cheers and dramatic salutes. “A pirate’s bow to a worthy queen!” Mo’er shouted, causing the Wei nobles to exchange amused glances.
The enthronement marked the beginning of a new era for Qinghai. As Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao stood before the crowd, crowned and sceptered, they exchanged a glance that spoke volumes. This was more than a political union; it was the culmination of their shared struggles, sacrifices, and triumphs. Together, they had defied the odds, and together, they would lead Qinghai into a future filled with promise and strength.
As the ceremony concluded, the skies above erupted into a dazzling display of fireworks, their colors reflected in the waters of Qinghai. The people cheered, the dignitaries raised their cups, and the King and Queen of Qinghai stood as a beacon of unity for all the realms of the Ximeng Continent.
The Masquerade Ball and Festivities
The evening continued with a grand masquerade ball, where masks adorned with jewels and feathers hid identities for a night of dancing and intrigue. Acrobats, fire-breathers, and musicians entertained the guests, while Qinghai’s famed chefs prepared a feast that spanned cuisines from all the allied realms.
As the night wore on, Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao ascended to the balcony of the Qinghai Palace. Hand in hand, they lit the first of thousands of lanterns that floated into the night sky, each one carrying the wishes and blessings of their guests. As the lanterns ascended, the fireworks began once more, illuminating the new king and queen in a golden glow.
The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices uniting in celebration of a love that had defied fate, a union that promised hope, and a reign that would shape the destiny of Qinghai and beyond.
Bride Chamber Cradle
“Under the moon’s watchful glow, two hearts found each other, guided by its timeless pull.”
The sea stretched endlessly before them, its waves rolling in with a soothing rhythm. The golden sunlight danced on the water’s surface, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of salt and wildflowers. Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao stood hand in hand, their bare feet sinking into the soft, warm sand of the secluded beach. It was a far cry from the chaos and battles they had left behind—a place where the world felt open and boundless.
“This place…” Chu Qiao trailed off, her voice soft as she gazed at the sparkling horizon. “It feels like freedom.”
Yuwen Yue’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “It is. No walls, no war, no expectations. Just us.”
She turned to him, her eyes searching his face. “Do you think we’ll ever truly be free?”
“We already are,” he said, his voice steady as he tightened his grip on her hand. “Because I have you.”
Their honeymoon began with a tour of the Freedom Community, a hidden haven built by those who had escaped the chains of oppression. Simple wooden homes dotted the shoreline, their walls adorned with vibrant flowers and hand-carved decorations. Children ran barefoot through the streets, their laughter ringing out like music.
Chu Qiao marveled at the bustling marketplace, where merchants sold freshly caught fish, handwoven textiles, and pottery glazed in bright colors. She paused at a stall selling jewelry made from seashells and smiled when Yuwen Yue quietly purchased a bracelet, slipping it onto her wrist without a word.
“It suits you,” he said, his voice low.
She glanced down at the delicate shell beads, her heart warming at the gesture. “Thank you.”
Yuwen Yue arranged a secluded spot on the beach for their evening, a blanket spread over the soft sand and a basket filled with fruits, bread, and wine. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink, they sat side by side, their shoulders touching.
Chu Qiao took a sip of wine and turned to him, her gaze soft. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Because I wanted you to see what peace looks like,” he replied, his tone earnest. “You’ve fought for so long. You deserve to know what it feels like to rest.”
Her eyes glistened as she placed her hand over his. “Peace is wherever you are, Yuwen Yue.”
They watched the sunset in silence, the sound of the waves filling the space between them. As the stars began to appear, Yuwen Yue leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His hand lingered on her cheek, his touch warm and grounding.
“Do you know how much I love you?” he murmured.
Chu Qiao smiled, her voice steady as she replied, “Show me.”
That evening, under the glow of a full moon, they swam in the clear, cool waters of the sea. Chu Qiao’s laughter echoed across the shore as Yuwen Yue splashed her, his rare playful side emerging.
“You’re faster on land,” he teased as she swam away, her strokes cutting through the water.
“And you’re slower everywhere,” she shot back, grinning.
When he finally caught her, he pulled her close, their bodies buoyant in the gentle waves. His arms encircled her waist, holding her steady as their laughter faded into quiet breaths.
“Yuwen Yue,” she said, her voice soft, “do you ever think about the life we left behind?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But not with regret. Everything we’ve been through led us here. To you and me. To this.”
She rested her forehead against his, her hands sliding to his shoulders. “Then let’s never look back.”
The villagers hosted a celebration for the couple, lighting bonfires along the beach and playing music that filled the air with joy. Chu Qiao, dressed in a flowing dress gifted by one of the village women, danced barefoot in the sand. Yuwen Yue, usually reserved, allowed her to pull him into the festivities.
“You’re terrible at this,” she teased as he stumbled through the steps.
He smirked, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together. “Then let’s dance my way.”
Their movements slowed, becoming a sway that was more intimate than formal. His hands rested on her waist, hers looped around his neck, and they moved in rhythm with the crashing waves.
“Chu Qiao,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. “You’re my entire world.”
She tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes shining. “And you’re mine.”
Each evening, their small beachfront cottage became their haven. The walls, lined with hand-carved wood, were filled with the scent of plum blossoms and the sound of waves lapping against the shore.
Yuwen Yue would light the candles, their warm glow illuminating the room as he pulled her into his arms. Their kisses started slow, exploratory, and grew in intensity as their longing overtook them. His hands traced her back, memorizing the lines of her body as she leaned into him, her fingers tangling in his hair.
Their love was unhurried, a dance of trust and passion. They explored each other with reverence, their touches a language of unspoken promises. Every kiss, every caress, was a declaration of devotion, a reminder of the bond they had forged in fire and war.
When they finally lay entwined beneath the linen sheets, their breaths mingling, Yuwen Yue pressed a lingering kiss to her temple. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making you happy,” he vowed.
Chu Qiao smiled, her voice steady. “You already have.”
On their final day, they planted a tree near the edge of the beach—a symbol of their enduring love and the life they would build together. As they stood beneath its budding leaves, Yuwen Yue wrapped his arms around Chu Qiao from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.
“This is our home now,” he said, his voice filled with quiet conviction.
She leaned into him, her fingers brushing the smooth bark of the sapling. “Our home, our freedom, our future.”
And as the waves rolled in and the sun set on their final evening, they knew they had found not just freedom, but a love that would anchor them for a lifetime.
Many Nights of Lovemaking by the Sea
The nights by the sea became their sanctuary—a world where time seemed to stand still, where the only sounds were the rhythmic crash of waves and their whispered confessions. The gentle breeze carried the scent of salt and flowers, intertwining with the warmth of their shared embrace.
On one such evening, the moon hung high in the sky, casting its silvery glow over the sand and water. Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao sat on a soft blanket near the shoreline, their bare feet buried in the cool grains of sand. The firelight flickered nearby, illuminating the tenderness in Yuwen Yue’s gaze as he reached for her hand.
“Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?” he asked, his voice a quiet rumble. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, sending a shiver up her spine.
Chu Qiao smiled softly, turning her body to face him. “Sometimes, it feels like it was a different lifetime,” she replied. “All the battles, the losses… they feel distant now. Here, with you, I feel like I can finally breathe.”
Yuwen Yue leaned forward, his hand cradling her face as his eyes searched hers. “I want you to always feel this way. Free. Loved. Cherished.”
Her breath hitched as his lips captured hers, the kiss soft at first, a question asked without words. But as she leaned into him, her fingers slipping into his hair, the kiss deepened. It was no longer a question but an answer—one of love, devotion, and longing.
His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together, their heartbeats syncing in a rhythm only they could hear. The silk of her robe slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her waist. She didn’t flinch or hesitate, her trust in him absolute. For the first time, she wasn’t afraid to let him see her completely.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His hands skimmed over her bare shoulders and down her arms, reverent and steady. “Every part of you.”
Chu Qiao let out a soft laugh, her cheeks flushed. “You’re staring again.”
“I can’t help it,” he said with a teasing smile before his lips found hers again, softer this time, but no less passionate.
They moved to the shelter of their cottage, the door left open so the sound of the waves became the backdrop to their love. The moonlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the bed where they lay entwined, their bodies a tangle of limbs and warmth.
Yuwen Yue traced the curve of her back with his fingers, his touch both light and deliberate. “I’ll never tire of holding you,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.
Chu Qiao rested her head on his chest, her fingers trailing lazy patterns over his skin. “And I’ll never tire of this. Of us.”
They explored each other’s bodies with unreserved affection, their touches no longer hesitant or uncertain. Yuwen Yue’s hands were steady as they skimmed over her waist and hips, his lips following in their wake, planting kisses that left her breathless. Chu Qiao’s own hands roamed freely, tracing the muscles of his chest and shoulders, marveling at the strength and gentleness he held.
When their bodies came together, it was not with urgency but with an unspoken understanding—a merging of souls as much as it was a physical connection. Their breaths mingled, their whispers filling the room like a melody.
“I love you,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her feelings. “I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone.”
Yuwen Yue kissed her forehead, his hand cupping the back of her neck. “And I will spend every day of my life proving that you’re my everything.”
With each night, their bond deepened, their passion unrestrained. They kissed in the moonlight, their bodies bare and vulnerable, but no longer ashamed. The love they shared made them fearless, free from the constraints of judgment or insecurity.
The room was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. The soft glow of candlelight cast warm shadows across the silk-draped bed. Chu Qiao stood at its edge, her hands clasped nervously in front of her, her gaze dropping to the floor as Yuwen Yue approached.
“Are you afraid?” Yuwen Yue asked gently, his voice low and calming.
Chu Qiao shook her head, though her cheeks flushed pink. “Not afraid,” she murmured. “Just… I don’t know what to do.”
He smiled, his lips curling in that soft, familiar way that always made her heart skip a beat. “You don’t have to do anything. Just be with me.”
He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek. The warmth of his hand made her skin tingle, and she closed her eyes at the gentleness of his touch. Slowly, he tilted her face up toward his, their eyes meeting. His gaze was full of unspoken love, his expression tender but charged with longing.
“I’ve waited so long for this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “To touch you. To love you like this.”
Before she could reply, his lips descended on hers, capturing her in a kiss that was both soft and insistent. His mouth moved against hers, coaxing her to respond, and when her lips parted, he deepened the kiss. His tongue brushed against hers, a slow, deliberate caress that sent a shiver racing down her spine.
Her hands found their way to his chest, resting there for balance, but as the kiss grew more intense, her fingers gripped the fabric of his robes. She could feel the strength beneath her touch—the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the warmth of his body.
Yuwen Yue pulled back slightly, his breath mingling with hers. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Chu Qiao nodded, her voice catching as she replied, “Yes. I want this, Yuwen Yue. I want you.”
His lips curved into a small smile before he kissed her again, this time trailing his mouth from her lips to her jawline and then to the sensitive skin just below her ear. She gasped softly, her hands moving to his shoulders as she clung to him, her knees weakening under the weight of his affection.
His hands traveled to her waist, steadying her as he pressed kisses along the curve of her neck, each touch igniting a fire that burned hotter with every passing second. His fingers traced the delicate lines of her body, skimming over her back, her sides, and finally resting on her hips.
“Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear.
“You’re not,” she replied breathlessly, her voice steady despite the trembling of her body.
He led her gently to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, giving her time to adjust, to grow comfortable. As she lay back against the silk sheets, he leaned over her, his hands braced on either side of her. He studied her for a moment, his expression one of reverence and awe.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t deserve you.”
She reached up, her hand resting against his cheek. “Don’t say that. We belong to each other.”
He nodded, leaning down to kiss her again, his lips lingering as his hands began exploring her body with more confidence. His touch was firm yet gentle, his fingers mapping every curve, every line. When his lips followed, brushing against her collarbone, her shoulders, and lower, her breaths grew shallow, her heart racing.
She reciprocated, her own hands tentatively exploring him, pulling him closer, tracing the strength of his back and shoulders. As their kisses deepened, their touches became bolder, their bodies pressing together with a yearning that neither could deny.
When the moment came, it was not rushed but a gradual melding of their hearts and bodies. He moved with care, his every action measured, his gaze locked on hers to ensure she felt nothing but love and comfort. She responded with equal fervor, her trust in him absolute.
Their breaths mingled, their hands clutching at each other as they found a rhythm together—a dance of love and passion that left them both trembling in its wake. The connection was not just physical but deeply emotional, an unspoken promise sealed in the quiet intimacy of the moment.
Afterward, they lay entwined, their bodies tangled beneath the soft sheets. Yuwen Yue pressed a tender kiss to her temple, his fingers brushing her hair.
“I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet certainty.
Chu Qiao turned to face him, her eyes glistening. “And I love you.”
She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as they drifted into a peaceful sleep, their love now a flame that would burn eternally.
In their quiet moments afterward, as they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, Yuwen Yue would press his lips to her temple, his breath warm against her skin. “Chu Qiao,” he would whisper, as though her name was a sacred prayer. “You’ve given me more than I ever deserved.”
She would smile, her voice steady despite the tears of happiness glistening in her eyes. “We’ve given each other everything.”
Each night by the sea became a testament to their love, their passion, and their unyielding trust in one another. They were no longer warriors bound by duty, no longer souls weighed down by the chains of the past. Here, in the Freedom Community, they were simply Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao—two people deeply in love, unafraid to show it, unafraid to live it.
As the waves continued to crash against the shore, their love remained as constant and eternal as the sea. The beauty of the sea became a canvas for Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao’s love, with every sunset, moonrise, and sunrise painting their honeymoon in hues of romance and tranquility.
Chapter 100
After all its you
Mornings by the sea were serene, the world cloaked in the soft, cool hues of dawn. The horizon would blush with shades of pale pink and lavender, gradually giving way to golden yellows and oranges as the sun began its slow climb. The waves mirrored the colors of the sky, creating a scene that felt both tranquil and alive.
Yuwen Yue often woke before Chu Qiao, sitting by the window or on the porch to watch the first light break over the water. When she joined him, wrapped in a light shawl, he would pull her close, their shared silence a testament to the peace they had found.
“The sunrise feels like a fresh start,” Chu Qiao said one morning, her voice soft with contentment. “Like the world is giving us another chance.”
Yuwen Yue pressed a kiss to her temple. “Then let’s take it. Every day, a new chance to love you more.”
As the sun rose higher, bathing the world in its warmth, the day would begin anew, but the memory of the sunrise would linger—a reminder of their shared journey and the promise of the future.
After their time honeymooning by the sea, Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue returned to Qinghai, stepping back into their roles as rulers of a burgeoning realm. Their love, now strengthened and matured, became the bedrock of their leadership as they navigated a delicate balance between governance, diplomacy, and personal relationships.
The death of Queen Zhuje marked the end of an era for the Moon Kingdom, but from its ashes, a brighter future began to take shape. The once enigmatic and secretive state transformed into a hub of tourism and culture, drawing travelers from neighboring territories intrigued by its rich history and serene landscapes.
Zao Baocung, now a respected non-governmental leader, took the reins in rebuilding the Moon Kingdom. The ruins of the monastery and other key locations were restored to their former glory under his guidance, blending historical authenticity with modern functionality. His efforts created a place of learning, reflection, and beauty that inspired both locals and visitors.
To safeguard the kingdom’s progress, the Jianghu spies became Zao Baocung’s personal guards and shadow defenders. They worked tirelessly behind the scenes, maintaining peace and ensuring that the Moon Kingdom’s newfound prosperity was not threatened by external forces. Meanwhile, the Underworld spies, who had retreated to Hellfrost after the upheaval, resumed their lives in the shadows. Their journeys to the Moon Kingdom for supplies and shelter kept them connected to the evolving world.
Viper, Chu Qiao’s personal guard, remained fiercely loyal to her mistress, shadowing her movements with an unwavering determination to protect. Despite Zuo Zong’s persistent courting attempts, her heart remained captivated by the elusive Beauty Army General He Xiao.
Zuo Zong, ever the loyal right hand of Yuwen Yue, admired Viper’s strength and independence. While his advances were polite and respectful, her unyielding attention toward He Xiao left him grappling with his unreciprocated feelings. Still, his loyalty to Yuwen Yue kept him close to the Qinghai court, ensuring his presence in Viper’s life.
He Xiao, haunted by the memories of his past and his failed marriage, remained devoted to the Xuili Army’s mandates and missions for the Freedom Community. Despite his stoic exterior and dedication to his work, a quiet longing lingered in his heart, though he buried it beneath his responsibilities. His interactions with Viper were few but charged, and though he respected her loyalty, he seemed unable—or unwilling—to confront the possibility of a new love.
In the heart of Qinghai, a new love blossomed between Yue Qi, now the General of Qinghai, and Xiao Qi, the younger sister of Chu Qiao. Their romance began at the parade of dowries, where Yue Qi found himself captivated by Xiao Qi’s elegance and wit.
Determined to pursue her, Yue Qi advanced with clear intentions, expressing his admiration and desire to court her. His sincerity won her over, and their relationship grew steadily. The courtship brought a sense of celebration to the Qinghai palace, a welcome contrast to the weight of governance and politics.
Their eventual marriage marked a joyous union that not only strengthened family ties but also symbolized the enduring bond between love and loyalty in Qinghai.
Lou He, the enigmatic Greater Leader of the Underworld, chose to live an unassuming life, maintaining her influence quietly. Though she kept a low profile, her guidance remained vital to the Underworld’s survival. Her leadership ensured that the Underworld continued its operations with discipline and integrity, providing a safe haven for those who lived on society’s fringes.
Back in Qinghai, Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue ruled with wisdom and compassion, their love an anchor in times of challenge. Yuwen Yue’s strategic mind and Chu Qiao’s unwavering moral compass complemented each other, making them a formidable team. They often found time to walk together in the palace gardens, their hands intertwined as they discussed matters of state and dreams for their realm’s future.
Their shared experiences forged an unbreakable bond, and even amid the duties of leadership, they made time for moments of quiet intimacy—a shared meal, a stolen kiss, or a whispered conversation under the stars.
With the Moon Kingdom thriving, Qinghai prospering, and the Freedom Community flourishing under the Xuili Army’s care, the world seemed poised for an era of peace and stability. The lives of those who once revolved around war and secrecy now moved forward with hope, love, and purpose.
As the sun set over Qinghai and the Moon Kingdom, its light reflected the enduring strength of the bonds that had been forged—bonds of friendship, love, loyalty, and an unyielding desire for freedom and justice.
It had been a year of peace and prosperity in Qinghai, with the rulers, Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue, settling into their roles as leaders and partners. The halls of their palace were filled with the sound of bustling courtiers, but the most joyful news came in the form of Chu Qiao’s pregnancy. She was in the final weeks, her belly round and glowing with life, and the palace was preparing for the arrival of their first child.
On a bright morning, the serene routine was disrupted by the arrival of an envoy from Liang State, carrying a royal letter from Xiao Ce, the Emperor of Liang, announcing his imminent visit.
Xiao Ce arrived in Qinghai with his signature flamboyance, his procession glittering with banners, musicians, and the finest silk-clad guards. As he strode into the palace, his expression was one of pure delight. When his eyes landed on Chu Qiao—seated comfortably in the audience hall, her belly round with pregnancy—he broke into a broad grin.
“Ah, my dearest Chu Qiao!” Xiao Ce exclaimed dramatically, his arms spreading wide as though he meant to embrace the entire room. “Or should I say, the radiant mother-to-be of the century?”
Chu Qiao rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Xiao Ce, stop embarrassing yourself.”
“Embarrassing?” Xiao Ce placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “I’m merely stating facts! Look at you! You’re glowing like the morning sun, though perhaps a bit rounder than usual.”
“Is that your way of complimenting me or reminding me I’m as big as a house?” Chu Qiao quipped, raising an eyebrow.
“Both,” he replied smoothly, unfazed by her sarcasm. “But only in the most endearing way, of course.”
Nearby, Yuwen Yue leaned casually against a pillar, watching the exchange with a faint smirk. “Still as insufferable as ever, Xiao Ce,” he said dryly.
“Ah, Yuwen Yue,” Xiao Ce said, turning his attention to him with a grin. “Always the stoic one. Do you smile at anything besides a victory or an insult?”
“I smile when you leave,” Yuwen Yue shot back, his smirk deepening.
Chu Qiao chuckled softly, shaking her head. “The two of you are impossible.”
After the initial pleasantries—or lack thereof—Xiao Ce grew more serious as the evening progressed, though his flair for drama remained intact.
“I must admit, my visit isn’t purely for the joy of seeing you,” Xiao Ce began, swirling a goblet of wine as he spoke. “Though, of course, that’s reason enough.”
Chu Qiao folded her hands over her belly, leaning back slightly. “I’m bracing myself for whatever nonsense you’re about to suggest.”
“Nonsense?” Xiao Ce gasped, feigning offense. “Why, this is a matter of utmost importance!”
Yuwen Yue raised an eyebrow. “The last time you said that, you asked us to help you smuggle rare silk while you disguised yourself as a merchant.”
“And it worked, didn’t it?” Xiao Ce shot back, grinning. “But I digress. This time, I come with a much more sophisticated request. As you know, my son, Li Qingrong, is about to celebrate his birthday and be officially crowned as crown prince of Liang.”
Chu Qiao tilted her head, her tone dry. “Let me guess. You want us to provide the entertainment?”
“Not just the entertainment, my dear Chu Qiao,” Xiao Ce said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I want Qinghai to make a statement. Specifically, I request copies of the Poe Yue Jian and the Canghong Sword.”
The room grew quiet as the weight of his request settled. Yuwen Yue’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his expression remained calm. “You’re asking for symbols of Qinghai’s history and love. To flaunt at your son’s party.”
“Flaunt?” Xiao Ce repeated with mock indignation. “Such a crass word, Yuwen Yue. I would never. Think of it as… showcasing. A tribute to the deep bond of friendship between Liang and Qinghai. And, of course, to the story of my dear Chu Qiao and her ever-grumpy husband.”
Chu Qiao smirked. “You mean the story of how I repeatedly saved your life while you created more problems for me to solve?”
“Exactly!” Xiao Ce grinned. “What better tale to inspire the masses? And let’s not forget, it’s an opportunity for me to demonstrate Liang’s admiration for Qinghai’s… unique charm.”
“Unique charm,” Yuwen Yue repeated, his tone laced with sarcasm. “That’s certainly one way to phrase it.”
Chu Qiao couldn’t help but laugh. “You just want to show off in front of your court, don’t you? ‘Look at me, I’m friends with the legendary Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue.'”
“Who wouldn’t?” Xiao Ce shot back without missing a beat. “Do you know how difficult it is to impress nobles these days? They’re practically immune to grand gestures. I need something truly extraordinary. And who’s more extraordinary than the two of you?”
Yuwen Yue crossed his arms. “Flattery won’t get you what you want.”
“Won’t it?” Xiao Ce said with a sly grin. “It always works on Chu Qiao.”
“Only because I pity you,” Chu Qiao replied smoothly, though her eyes sparkled with amusement.
Xiao Ce placed a hand over his chest, pretending to stagger backward. “Ah, cruel as ever, my dear Chu Qiao. But I know your heart is kind. You wouldn’t deny a poor emperor his humble request.”
“Humble?” Yuwen Yue snorted. “There’s nothing humble about you.”
Xiao Ce winked at him. “And that’s why you love me.”
Yuwen Yue smirked and said, “I am not a pervert!” (LOL)
Ha… Ha… Ha… Xiao Ce laughed at him and said, “You aren’t, you’re just shy to admit it!”
Yuwen Yue furrowed his sword-like eyebrows, and Chu Qiao gave him a playful wink. She knew Xiao Ce was just being playful and making Yuwen Yue relax a bit.
After Xiao Ce retired for the night, Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue sat in their private chambers discussing the request.
“Do you trust him with such a symbolic piece of Qinghai’s history?” Yuwen Yue asked, his tone skeptical.
Chu Qiao shook her head slightly. “Trust is not the issue. Xiao Ce may be flamboyant, but his intentions are rarely malicious. This is about diplomacy, Yue. Refusing could strain relations.”
Yuwen Yue sighed, leaning back in his chair. “The Poe Yue Jian and Canghong Sword are deeply personal to us. They represent more than just history—they’re a part of our story.”
Chu Qiao placed a hand on his. “Then let’s offer him something unique. A pair of swords crafted in the spirit of the originals, but with their own identity. A gift that represents Qinghai’s generosity without diminishing what the originals mean to us.”
Yuwen Yue nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “You always find the balance.”
Before preparations for Liang’s celebration could fully begin, Chu Qiao went into labor. The palace erupted into a flurry of activity as the midwives and physicians were summoned. Xiao Ce, true to his word, refused to leave, insisting on waiting just outside the birthing chamber.
The birth of their first child, a baby boy named Yuwen Chu, brought a whirlwind of joy and challenges into the lives of Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue. Their new role as parents reshaped their routines, dynamics, and even their understanding of love.
Chu Qiao’s labor had been long and difficult, leaving her bedridden for ten days. During this time, Yuwen Yue became her unwavering support, tending to her needs with surprising tenderness. Despite his reserved nature, he took it upon himself to ensure she ate, rested, and had the quiet she needed to heal.
The nights, however, were far from quiet. Baby Yuwen Chu had an uncanny knack for waking only after sunset, crying insistently until his mother was awake. This turned Chu Qiao into a night owl, her schedule dictated by the tiny life she now nurtured.
“Why does he insist on being nocturnal?” she murmured one evening, cradling Yuwen Chu as he nursed. “Is this your doing, Yue?”
Yuwen Yue, sitting nearby with an amused expression, raised an eyebrow. “Why would you assume this is my fault? He’s clearly inherited your stubbornness.”
“Stubbornness?” Chu Qiao shot back, though her voice softened as she glanced down at her son. “If anything, it’s your discipline—but misplaced. He thinks the night is for work.”
Yuwen Yue chuckled, leaning over to gently stroke Yuwen Chu’s tiny hand. “Perhaps he’ll grow into someone who thrives at all hours. Just like his mother.”
Chu Qiao sighed but smiled, her fatigue momentarily forgotten. “Let’s hope he doesn’t inherit your unyielding smirk.”
Despite the pressing demands of ruling Qinghai, Yuwen Yue made the decision to take paternity leave, entrusting all state affairs to Yue Qi. His choice surprised some, but to him, the priority was clear—his family.
“Yue Qi has been itching to prove himself,” Yuwen Yue remarked one afternoon, watching as Chu Qiao rocked their son to sleep. “Let him manage for a while. It’ll be good for him.”
“And for you?” Chu Qiao asked, her tone teasing but affectionate.
“For me, it’s a chance to spend time with my wife and son,” he replied simply. Then, with a small smirk, he added, “And ensure you don’t spoil him completely in my absence.”
Chu Qiao rolled her eyes. “Says the man who insists on carrying him for every nap.”
As Chu Qiao regained her strength, Yuwen Yue proposed a retreat to their private estate by the sea in the Freedom Community. The wooden house, modest yet inviting, had been a sanctuary for the couple before Yuwen Chu’s birth. Now, with renovations complete—including a cozy nursery for their son—it became a haven for their new family.
In this home, they chose to live without servants, embracing a simple lifestyle. Yuwen Yue tended the garden and drew water from the well, while Chu Qiao experimented with cooking and cared for Yuwen Chu. Their days were filled with the sounds of chopping vegetables, baby giggles, and the occasional exasperated sigh when something went awry.
Life as new parents brought endless moments of joy, frustration, and humor.
One of their recurring “arguments” revolved around Yuwen Chu’s features. His chinky eyes mirrored Yuwen Yue’s, but his lips bore a striking resemblance to Chu Qiao’s.
“I think he’s more like me,” Yuwen Yue declared one afternoon, holding Yuwen Chu as the baby yawned.
“Dream on,” Chu Qiao shot back, crossing her arms. “His eyes, yes, but those lips? All mine.”
“Lips?” Yuwen Yue smirked. “Lips hardly count. Look at his composure. Clearly, he takes after me.”
Chu Qiao burst into laughter. “Composure? He cries every night, Yue.”
“And when he’s calm, he’s the picture of discipline,” Yuwen Yue countered, though his tone was playful.
“Well, let’s hope he doesn’t inherit your arrogance,” Chu Qiao teased.
“And let’s hope he doesn’t inherit your temper,” Yuwen Yue replied, smirking as she threw a cushion at him.
One evening, Chu Qiao attempted to make dumplings for dinner while Yuwen Yue tended to the garden. Baby Yuwen Chu, propped in his crib nearby, cooed as his mother struggled with the dough.
“What’s that smell?” Yuwen Yue asked as he entered the kitchen, wrinkling his nose.
Chu Qiao, her hands covered in flour, glared at him. “It’s called cooking. Something you could help with.”
Yuwen Yue glanced at the misshapen dumplings and raised an eyebrow. “Are these supposed to be edible?”
“They will be if you stop criticizing and start helping!” Chu Qiao retorted.
By the end of the evening, the dumplings were laughable in shape but surprisingly delicious—a small victory in their domestic adventures.
In the quiet hours of the night, when Yuwen Chu refused to sleep, Yuwen Yue often took over, pacing the room with the baby in his arms.
One night, Chu Qiao awoke to hear a deep, soothing voice murmuring softly. Peeking into the nursery, she saw Yuwen Yue rocking their son, his usually stoic face softened with love.
“You’re going to spoil him,” Chu Qiao whispered, leaning against the doorframe.
“He deserves it,” Yuwen Yue replied, not taking his eyes off the baby. “And so do you. Go back to sleep.”
Their time at the seaside estate became a treasure trove of memories—of playful banter, sleepless nights, and tender moments as a family. The simplicity of their days allowed them to reconnect not only as rulers but as partners and parents, learning together and leaning on each other.
Yuwen Yue, the formidable leader of Qinghai, lived like an ordinary man, cradling his son and drawing water from the well. Chu Qiao, the legendary warrior, embraced the role of a mother, her strength shining in her care for her child.
And in the midst of it all, baby Yuwen Chu became the heart of their world, his tiny presence binding them closer than ever.
Each evening, as the sun began its descent, the sky transformed into a masterpiece of color. Golden rays bathed the shoreline, casting long, soft shadows across the sand. The horizon glowed in shades of amber, peach, and crimson, blending seamlessly into the blue of the ocean.
Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao often sat on the beach during this magical hour, their hands intertwined. The sun seemed to linger, as if reluctant to leave, its light reflecting on the waves and setting them ablaze with a fiery glow. The warm hues softened the edges of the world, wrapping them in an intimate embrace.
“It’s beautiful,” Chu Qiao would say, her voice full of wonder as the colors deepened into rich oranges and purples.
Yuwen Yue would glance at her, a soft smile on his lips. “Not as beautiful as you.”
As the sun finally slipped below the horizon, leaving a trail of pink and violet in its wake, the stars would begin to peek through, and the world would quiet. The sunsets became a nightly ritual, a moment for them to reflect on their love and the peace they had found together.
On the night of the full moon, the sky was ablaze with brilliance. The moon hung large and luminous, its surface etched with shadows and light, as though it held stories from another time. Its light was so bright that it cast shadows on the beach, illuminating the world in a pale, silvery glow.
Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao walked barefoot along the shore, their figures bathed in moonlight. The sound of the waves was a soothing melody, and the cool night air carried the scent of salt and flowers. They stopped often, marveling at the beauty around them, their fingers brushing as they walked.
“I feel small under this sky,” Chu Qiao said, her voice tinged with awe. “But with you, I feel infinite.”
Yuwen Yue stopped, turning to face her. The moonlight highlighted the contours of her face, making her look like something out of a dream. “You’re my infinity,” he said simply, cupping her cheek and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
They spent the night in each other’s arms, their love as full and radiant as the moon above them.
The years had not dimmed Yan Xun’s charisma or his commanding presence. He remained King of Yanbei, a realm rebuilt from the ashes of war, thriving under his firm yet detached rule. While his people revered him as a strong and capable leader, those closest to him whispered of a man who carried the weight of an invisible burden—an unspoken void in his heart.
Xiao Yu, once destined to be his Queen in all aspects, now bore the title in name only. Their arrangement, unconventional and cold, placed her as the “Queen of Yanbei’s Shadows.” She held no authority in court, no sway over military decisions, and no place in Yanbei’s affairs. The agreement, crafted by Yan Xun himself, granted her the comforts of royalty but stripped away the duties and connections of a true consort.
Xiao Yu, for her part, accepted the arrangement with quiet resignation. She lived in the shadows of the palace, her presence a faint echo of what might have been. Despite the distance between them, she carried herself with grace, her composure unbroken even as she watched Yan Xun’s fleeting romances with concubines from afar.
Occasionally, their paths crossed in the palace halls or during formal banquets, their interactions marked by a practiced civility. Xiao Yu spoke little, her eyes veiling whatever emotions stirred beneath the surface. Yan Xun, in turn, treated her with the detached respect of an acquaintance rather than a partner.
As the years went by, Yan Xun chose to immerse himself in temporary connections, surrounding himself with concubines who sought to warm his heart, even if only briefly. Handsome and charismatic as ever, he attracted admiration easily, but he never allowed anyone to come too close. Each romance burned brightly but faded quickly, leaving no lasting mark.
His advisors noted the pattern, but none dared question him. To the outside world, Yan Xun was a strong, solitary king—a man who needed no equal. Yet those who knew him well suspected that his heart remained tethered to the past, to a time when life was simpler and love, though fleeting, had once felt real.
Yan Xun’s military intelligence frequently brought him updates from neighboring regions. Though he feigned disinterest, the occasional mention of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao—once his closest companions—stirred something within him. He learned of their honeymoon, their first child Yuwen Chu, and their life in Qinghai.
He rarely lingered on these reports, pushing them aside with a faint scowl. Yet, in the quiet of his private chambers, he sometimes found himself wondering: What might it have been like if things had been different? If the bonds of friendship and love had not been shattered by betrayal, war, and loss?
Yan Xun’s strength as a ruler masked the void in his heart—a chasm of unspoken words, unresolved emotions, and choices that could never be undone. His pride and pain kept him from reaching out, even as the thought of visiting Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao crossed his mind. The gap between them was not merely physical; it was a divide born of time, scars, and the weight of all that had been left unsaid.
Though he often told himself that his life was complete, a part of him lingered in that void, searching for something he could not name. Yan Xun, the great King of Yanbei, was admired by many but known by few. And in the quiet of his solitude, he remained a man at war—not with armies, but with his own heart.
As Yanbei continued to flourish, the question of his own legacy loomed. He had no equal to share his burdens, no partner to stand beside him as his queen in more than title. The fleeting romances he entertained left no lasting heirs, no enduring love. Xiao Yu, ever composed, seemed content in her shadowed role, though her silence spoke volumes.
And so, Yan Xun stood at a crossroads. He could continue down the path of isolation and fleeting connections, or he could confront the ghosts of his past—whether in the form of an unexpected visit to Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao or by seeking something more meaningful within his own realm.
For now, he chose to wait, the void within him growing deeper with each passing day.
The Yuwen household buzzed with activity as preparations for Yuwen Huai’s long-awaited wedding to Princess Chuner reached their peak. The sprawling estate, already renowned for its grandeur, was now overflowing with bustling servants, elaborate decorations, and the scent of fresh flowers imported from the finest gardens in the Wei kingdom.
The recent death of the Wei Emperor had triggered a cascade of changes within the royal court. Among them was the restoration of Princess Chuner’s noble status, elevating her back to her rightful place within the imperial hierarchy. This return to favor, along with the blessings surrounding the union, granted Yuwen Huai unprecedented titles and privileges. Once merely a key player within the Yuwen clan, he now stood as His Royal Highness, thanks to his impending marriage.
The wedding marked not just the union of two powerful families, but also a reassertion of the Yuwen clan’s influence in the shifting tides of Wei politics. Yuwen Huai, who had once been overshadowed by his cousin Yuwen Yue, was now stepping into a position of prestige and recognition.
Yuwen Huai’s bachelorhood had long been a subject of gossip within the court. Known for his cunning and sharp tongue, he had avoided marriage for years, despite his family’s urgings. However, after witnessing his cousin Yuwen Yue marry two years prior—and seeing the political and personal stability it brought—he had finally relented.
Of course, Yuwen Huai couldn’t resist injecting his characteristic wit into the situation.
“I suppose the torture of bachelorhood is less painful than the torture of endless court matchmaking,” he quipped to a group of peers during a pre-wedding feast. “Though marrying a princess has its perks. Who else can claim the title of ‘husband’ and ‘His Royal Highness’ in one stroke?”
His words elicited laughter, though many who knew him well could sense a deeper layer of pride—and perhaps relief—beneath his sardonic tone.
Princess Chuner, now restored to her birthright, approached the marriage with poise and pragmatism. Though her fall from grace during the late Emperor’s reign had been harsh, her return to favor ensured that her union with Yuwen Huai was seen as a royal triumph rather than a political compromise.
As the bride-to-be, Chuner embraced her role with regal elegance. Dressed in silks of deep red and gold, embroidered with phoenixes symbolizing rebirth and power, she was the very picture of imperial grace. Despite the lingering memories of her struggles, her sharp wit and commanding presence ensured she was no mere decoration in this union.
“Let’s hope my husband-to-be can handle being outshone,” she teased during a fitting, her words accompanied by a mischievous smile.
The Yuwen household had transformed into a whirlwind of activity. Servants polished every corner of the estate, preparing for the grand procession that would bring Princess Chuner to her new home. Artisans crafted intricate lanterns and tapestries adorned with auspicious symbols, while musicians rehearsed melodies meant to echo through the streets.
Yuwen Huai, though never one for sentimental displays, oversaw certain aspects of the preparations with a meticulous eye. His insistence on perfection earned him both admiration and exasperation from the staff.
“If you’re this demanding about the flowers,” Yuwen Yue teased during one of his rare visits, “I can’t imagine how you’ll manage the rest of your married life.”
Yuwen Huai smirked, raising a goblet of wine. “Unlike you, dear cousin, I intend to win every argument. Marriage is just another battlefield.”
“Spoken like a man who hasn’t yet lost his first,” Yuwen Yue replied with amusement.
On the wedding day, the streets of Wei’s capital came alive with celebration. The procession of Princess Chuner was a spectacle of imperial grandeur, her carriage adorned with gold and crimson banners fluttering in the breeze. Citizens lined the streets to catch a glimpse of the royal bride, their cheers mingling with the sound of drums and cymbals.
At the Yuwen estate, Yuwen Huai awaited her arrival with a calm exterior, though those closest to him noticed the subtle tension in his posture. As Chuner stepped into the grand hall, her beauty and poise captivated all present. Even Yuwen Huai seemed momentarily struck silent.
The ceremony was a blend of traditional rites and imperial splendor, culminating in the symbolic tying of the red ribbon—a gesture signifying their union. As they bowed to the heavens and ancestors, the crowd erupted in applause, celebrating not only the couple but the power and prestige they now embodied.
With the marriage sealed, Yuwen Huai’s rise in status was complete. His position as His Royal Highness ensured that the Yuwen family’s influence would continue to shape the court of Wei. While Yuwen Yue had forged his own path as a ruler of Qinghai, Yuwen Huai had carved his place within the imperial sphere—a testament to the many forms power could take.
As the celebrations stretched late into the night, Yuwen Huai and Princess Chuner shared a rare moment of privacy.
“Well,” Chuner said, raising an eyebrow as she regarded him. “You’ve managed to pull off quite the spectacle. Are you satisfied, Your Royal Highness?”
Yuwen Huai chuckled, a genuine smile breaking through his usual guarded demeanor. “More than you know, Your Highness.”
“And here I thought this was all for me,” she teased, her tone playful.
“It is,” he replied softly, surprising her with the sincerity in his voice. “For both of us.”
Though their union had begun as a political arrangement, it held the potential for something deeper. Whether through shared ambition or mutual respect, Yuwen Huai and Princess Chuner were poised to navigate the challenges of court life together—two sharp minds united under the weight of royal crowns.
As Yuwen Huai embarked on his married life, the Yuwen household found itself bustling with renewed energy. While Yuwen Yue’s legacy grew in Qinghai, Yuwen Huai’s rise within Wei’s imperial court ensured that the Yuwen name remained synonymous with power and influence.
Though the cousins’ paths had diverged, their stories remained intertwined in the intricate web of politics, family, and destiny.
As the years passed, Yuwen Chu grew from an infant with curious eyes to a lively and intelligent child. His early years were filled with love and adventure, his days spent exploring the seaside estate with his parents. Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao were determined to raise their son to appreciate simplicity, integrity, and the value of hard work.
By the time Yuwen Chu turned four, his personality began to shine. He was sharp like his father, but his fiery determination and playful wit were clearly inherited from his mother. His favorite moments were the evenings spent by the beach, where he would run ahead of his parents, collecting seashells and challenging the waves as they lapped at his tiny feet.
One evening, after watching his father train with a wooden sword, Yuwen Chu declared, “I want to be strong like you, Father!”
Yuwen Yue smiled, his pride evident. “Strength is more than a sword, son. It’s in how you carry yourself, how you treat others, and how you stand by what is right.”
Chu Qiao, overhearing from the doorway, added, “And strength also comes from the heart. Always remember that, Yuwen Chu.”
Yuwen Chu nodded solemnly, his young mind already absorbing the lessons of his extraordinary parents.=0
As Yuwen Chu grew more independent, Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao found themselves longing for time to reconnect. Their first honeymoon by the sea had been a cherished memory, and they decided to embark on another journey—this time to the mountains of the Moon Kingdom, where the air was crisp, and the landscapes breathtaking.
Leaving Yuwen Chu in the capable hands of Yue Qi and Xiao Qi, they set out for the tranquil peaks, their hearts lighter than they had been in years. The journey was a blend of nostalgia and newfound excitement, as they once again embraced the freedom of being just Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao—not rulers, but lovers.
The mountain retreat was a secluded villa nestled in a forest, surrounded by cascading waterfalls and flowering meadows. Days were spent hiking the trails, exchanging quiet conversations, and marveling at the beauty of the world they had fought so hard to protect. At night, they sat by a roaring fire, sharing dreams for their future and reminiscing about their journey together.
It was during this retreat that their second child was conceived—a daughter they named Yuwen Qing, symbolizing purity and the clarity of the mountain air where she was conceived.
Nine months later, the palace of Qinghai was abuzz with joy as Chu Qiao gave birth to their second child. Yuwen Qing was a delicate but spirited baby, with wide, curious eyes that sparkled like stars. Her presence brought a new wave of warmth and tenderness to their family.
While Yuwen Chu adapted quickly to his role as an older brother, proudly showing off his “responsibilities,” he also adored doting on Yuwen Qing. Often, he could be found by her crib, telling her grand tales of their family’s adventures or trying to make her laugh with his antics.
Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao found their hearts fuller than ever. The demands of leadership never ceased, but their growing family became their sanctuary—a reminder of the life they had built together despite countless trials.
A Family Tradition
To celebrate the birth of Yuwen Qing, the family made it a tradition to spend a season at their seaside estate every year. The home by the sea became a place where Yuwen Chu could learn to sail, where Yuwen Qing could run freely on the beach, and where Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao could continue to cherish the simple life they had once dreamed of.
On one particular evening, as the family sat by a bonfire on the shore, Yuwen Yue looked at Chu Qiao, her face glowing in the firelight, their two children playing in the sand nearby.
“Do you ever think about the life we’ve built?” he asked, his voice filled with quiet wonder.
Chu Qiao smiled, leaning against him. “I think about it every day. And every day, I feel grateful for the journey that brought us here.”
As the waves lapped gently against the shore and the stars sparkled above, their family sat together, bound by love, strengthened by their shared journey, and filled with hope for the future.
Chu Qiao wore her roles like armor—queen, warrior, wife, and mother—each infused with the fire that had defined her life. Her presence commanded attention, whether she stood in the royal court, trained with her children, or faced her enemies on the battlefield. Qinghai’s people called her the “Flame Queen,” a ruler whose heart burned with an unyielding passion for justice and a fearless determination to protect what she loved. But behind the crown and the legend was a woman who fought battles as fierce in her home as in the war-torn lands of her past.
For Yuwen Chu and Yuwen Qing, their mother was both a guardian and a force of nature. She raised them not with idle stories but with the blood and grit of her experiences, drawing from the scars of her warrior’s life to teach lessons that would shape their destinies. Yuwen Chu, disciplined and calculating, bore the weight of her expectations with quiet resolve. She pushed him hard, matching him strike for strike during sparring lessons in the palace courtyard. “A sword,” she told him, parrying one of his blows with ease, “is only as strong as the hand that wields it. But a true leader doesn’t just win battles—they win hearts.”
Yuwen Qing, her fiery daughter, was her mirror—a whirlwind of daring curiosity and boundless energy. Chu Qiao admired her boldness but knew the dangers of an untamed spirit. When Qing’er snuck out of the palace to explore the bustling markets of Qinghai’s capital, Chu Qiao was there to find her, cloaked and armed. “You dream big, my daughter,” she whispered as she pulled her from the crowd, “but dreams without caution can lead to ruin. Let me teach you how to run free without losing your way.”
Their bond was not forged in idle affection but in moments of raw honesty and shared adventure. Chu Qiao would join Qing’er on expeditions to sketch the wild landscapes of Qinghai, or gather rare herbs from the forest. Yet, there was always a lesson embedded in the thrill. “Freedom is a gift, Qing’er,” she said once, standing atop a windswept hill, “but to truly deserve it, you must learn to master it.”
Her partnership with Yuwen Yue was equally charged with intensity. Their love had been forged in fire—on battlefields where victory was snatched from the jaws of death, in moments where trust had been their only weapon. Even in the calm of their reign, the tension of their shared struggles lingered, making their bond unshakable. As king, Yuwen Yue ruled with icy precision, his mind a weapon sharper than any blade. But with Chu Qiao at his side, his pragmatism was tempered by her relentless empathy. Together, they were a storm—his strategy the lightning, her passion the thunder.
Their arguments were legendary, fiery clashes that often left their advisors scrambling to escape the royal chambers. But the storm always passed, leaving behind a deeper understanding and a stronger resolve. “You question everything, even me,” Yuwen Yue said once with a half-smile. “That’s why I trust you more than anyone.”
When the crown’s burdens grew heavy, Chu Qiao reminded him of what they fought for. She would drag him out of the council chambers to walk in the gardens or pull him into a swordfight to blow off steam. “Even kings need to bleed a little,” she’d say with a grin as she knocked the sword from his hand.
As queen, Chu Qiao was a force of action. She didn’t simply listen to the people’s struggles—she rode out to see them herself, often with a small retinue or alone, cloaked in anonymity. Stories of her daring were whispered across Qinghai: the queen who broke up a border skirmish with only a handful of guards, the woman who faced a corrupt official in open court and dismantled his schemes with ruthless efficiency.
In the royal court, her fiery speeches shook the very walls. “We do not rule for the sake of power,” she declared during one heated debate, her voice cutting through the chamber. “We rule to protect the weak and uplift the forgotten. Anything less is a betrayal of this crown!” Even the most hardened officials found themselves unable to meet her blazing gaze.
Yuwen Yue’s reign as king mirrored her ferocity, though his style was quieter—a controlled storm to her unrelenting fire. His mornings began in the war room, poring over maps and dispatches, his mind calculating a hundred steps ahead. His afternoons were filled with diplomatic negotiations or overseeing the kingdom’s infrastructure, his decisions precise and unyielding. Yet, for all his focus, he never allowed duty to consume his humanity.
With Yuwen Chu, he was the stern yet encouraging mentor, teaching swordsmanship and strategy with the patience of a craftsman. “A sword is a tool,” he reminded his son during one lesson, blocking a strike with practiced ease. “But the mind wielding it is the true weapon. Think, before you strike—and after.”
With Yuwen Qing, he was indulgent but firm. Her endless curiosity amused him, though he often had to temper her impulsiveness. When she tried to climb the palace walls to see the stars, he caught her, laughing despite himself. “The stars will always be there, Qing’er,” he told her, lifting her back to safety. “But your mother would kill me if I let you fall.”
Despite the demands of ruling Qinghai, Yuwen Yue cherished the moments he spent with Chu Qiao and their children. After long days, he would sit with Chu Qiao under the moonlit sky, their hands intertwined, speaking of dreams for their family and their kingdom. These quiet moments were a sanctuary, a reminder that even amidst the chaos of power and responsibility, they had built something beautiful together.
Together, Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue were an unstoppable force—a whirlwind of passion, strength, and vision. Their reign was a golden era for Qinghai, but it was also a testament to the power of love and partnership. To their children, they were both mentors and warriors, teaching them to carve their own paths. To their people, they were legends—symbols of hope, justice, and the indomitable spirit of Qinghai.
And to each other, they were everything: the storm and the calm, the fire and the steel, the heart and the mind. In their love, in their battles, and in their shared dreams, they built a legacy that would echo through history—a tale of resilience, power, and undying passion.
To be continued . . .
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