PART 9. VALLEY OF DYING STARS
PART 9. VALLEY OF DYING STARS
Chapter 81
Discarded pawn
From dawn to twilight, long lines of caravans beautifully paraded along the Prairie Silk Road.
The mid-autumn weather under the southern skies somehow warmed the skin of the people watching the historic journey of the year.
As the pre-winter chill suddenly descended upon entering the eastern skies, the people by the roadside began to cover themselves.
Meanwhile, the Qinghai Queen overturned her long Kam sleeves, and the light of the candle suddenly went out. With a sweep of her gentle, delicate hands, she calmed herself in the pitch-black darkness and said:
“What disaster can we bring to the Beauty Emperor?”
The Qinghai King, obliged to respond, said:
“My Queen, if we harm the Beauty Emperor, we will surely face the fangs of the Jianghu spies. Your order to destroy the Moon Kingdom will be delayed. I suggest we let things unfold as they are and focus on the Moon Kingdom later.”
The Queen, hearing what pleased her, said: “My King, you aren’t going to meet him, are you?”
“As you wish, I may. But if you do not allow it, I will abide,” said the Qinghai King.
“Let Ra Yue handle the task,” said the Qinghai Queen. “He needs this soft alliance to carry out the Moon Kingdom’s destruction.” The Qinghai Queen touched her damask cape, thinking intensely.
The Qinghai King, careful with his words, calmly said: “Ra Yue will indeed welcome him and present the hero before him.
Besides, the Beauty Emperor has brought many treasures to pay homage to this empire and meet his savior. I am sure this is something my Queen will not refuse.”
“Why would I refuse such treasures?” said the Qinghai Queen, feeling reassured by the Qinghai King’s positive words.
“It seems he has brought his entire Liang empire on his way to Qinghai.”
The Qinghai King paused and chuckled, then said:
“It’s as if he brought a dowry to marry someone in Qinghai, and I am sure it is not the Crown Prince’s fault, but the Beauty Emperor’s savior. I am also eager to meet this savior.”
Feeling pleased, the Qinghai Queen replied: “If I play the hero, will everyone believe?”
“You can do anything!” The annoyed Qinghai King could only fake his witticism.
Everyone in Qinghai wears masks. This historic welcome is described as a grand masquerade party.
Ra Yue’s hair is exquisitely draped, crowned with a simple U-shaped crescent moon atop his head. Dressed in a white silk kimono with a hand-printed golden-threaded lion on his back, no one can fully capture the elegance and beauty of the Crown Prince as he stands before the Qinghai ministers.
From the tribal bones and their sage leaders to the political factions of the Qinghai princes, murmurs continued without pause. The grasshopper-like buzz of the crowd became a sweet noise to Ra Yue’s ears.
Ra Yue rewarded them with sweet smirks and cold, penetrating godly stares, savoring every candid and humdrum remark.
“He broke protocol! The eunuchs must be punished. Has the code of expressions been amended? Did the eunuchs fail to comply with our dress code? This is a contempt of the Qinghai Empire! Exposing one’s face to the crowd is a serious offense. This cannot be the Crown Prince; it must be unreal. That beautiful, godly face must be covered, or this is not the Qinghai Empire.”
One of the Qinghai ministers stood, inhaled deeply, and launched a direct attack in the presence of the Qinghai Empire, saying:
“The Crown Prince’s eunuchs must be punished by death for disregarding the sacred dress code of the Qinghai Empire.”
The Velvet Prince Ra Zhun seconded the motion, adding: “I believe the eunuchs failed to enforce the strict dress code today. Shall we roll heads?”
Ra Zhun, impatiently rolling his eyes, ordered the imperial guards to seize the Crown Prince’s eunuchs.
The Silver Prince Ra Zheng acted quickly to mediate. With a simple glance at his royal guards, they understood.
The royal guards of the Silver Prince marched in front of the Head Eunuch as Yue Qi watched silently.
Everyone assumed a defensive posture. No one dared to move, but Ra Yue remained calm. Yuwen Yue paid no mind to the two opposing forces standing before the bright Qinghai Empire.
On one side, there was intent to execute the eunuchs, while on the other, a desire to protect them. Yue Qi, his half-covered face concealed by a mask, twitched his palms, awaiting Ra Yue’s commands.
Meanwhile, Zuo Zong, masked like Zorro, arrived at the palace gates to inform Ra Yue of the chaos unfolding on Khan Road to the Sky.
Before anyone could react, the Liang royal convoy arrived at the gates of the Qinghai Grand Palace.
Suddenly, a serious yet handsome young eunuch rushed toward the Head Eunuch of the Crown Prince.
Catching his breath, he whispered:
“Master, before you die, will you announce the Beauty Emperor’s arrival?”
The old eunuch’s wrinkled eyes brightened, easing the tension in his face.
He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time upon hearing the junior eunuch’s words of warning. Brushing off the threat, he said:
“Go, open the palace gates and let us welcome the Beauty Emperor. The Crown Prince is already in a compromised situation. We must hear what he has to say in defiance of the Qinghai dress code before they chop off our heads.”
The situation on the Prairie Silk Road seven hours before the arrival of the Beauty Emperor:
Of all the people who witnessed the historic journey, every face was filled with awe and wonder. In fact, it was a rare opportunity she had chosen to appear in public.
Suddenly, a striking woman with heavy white eyeliner, beautiful and brave, leapt into the air and landed in front of the Prairie Silk Road.
A small chaos erupted among the crowd by the roadside.
The Liang Phoenix forces were paralyzed, unable to deploy a quick reaction force.
Apparently, the woman, wearing an animated white hood and a silk veil covering her face, looked down at the extravagant soil of the Prairie Silk Road.
Many eyes saw this clearly.
This beautiful woman blocked the grand convoy in the middle of the road. Hostility filled the air. The finest Liang horsemen quickly removed their simple Hanfu robes, unsheathed their swords, and revealed the ninja suits hidden beneath.
The simple horsemen transformed into lethal weapons, ready to embrace their fierce assassin roles.
However, in their attempt to defend the royal passenger inside the lavish golden palanquin, these deadly warriors found themselves helpless and ineffective.
“It was a swift martial arts move, like that of a civet cat! I didn’t even see it coming!”
They gasped in pain.
No one dared to make a defensive move. Silence reigned, and no one had the energy to counter her swift attacks.
Meanwhile, the passenger inside the palanquin felt some reverberations but remained unconcerned by the temporary inconvenience.
While the horsemen were exhausted, no one from Sun Di’s envoy attempted to intervene.
A thin, young boy eventually made his presence known.
He walked awkwardly yet confidently, as if mimicking a frog, atop the Grand Palanquin of the Beauty Emperor.
Though odd and offensive, this move was necessary. The thin boy was preparing to display his martial prowess against the mysterious intruder.
The woman recognized the boy’s abilities and knew he was not to be underestimated. Her pulse relaxed, and her tense posture eased.
Her creased brows softened as she looked closer, sensing a familiar presence. Slowly, she unveiled the covering on her head.
The young boy could hardly believe what he saw.
One thing was certain: everyone’s mind would soon be blown.
The thin boy descended from the palanquin and, without fear, said, “Master, are you here to accompany us?”
Chu Qiao smirked, pointed toward the royal palanquin, and said, “If the Beauty Emperor permits it, why not?”
While Chu Qiao’s defenses were down, Sun Di seized the moment and ordered her capture.
Chu Qiao, expecting this, did not resist.
Without hesitation, she offered her hands.
Ping’An was about to defend Chu Qiao, but Sun Di said, “By order of the Phoenix Emperor.”
Ping’An, about to protest, was interrupted when the Beauty Emperor spoke loudly from within the golden palanquin: “She is a dangerous weed who disregarded the Khan Road to the Sky. Bind her and blindfold her.”
Ping’An, confused by the Emperor’s harsh command, boldly asked, “Your Majesty, have you forgotten about Qiao Qiao?”
The Beauty Emperor ignored Ping’An’s words, maintaining a hard expression, though he swallowed nervously and his throat grew dry.
Ping’An, ready to defy the Emperor, was stopped by Chu Qiao. She calmly said, “Trust His Highness. He must have a noble purpose in this. Spare them.”
Ping’An, in a defensive stance, gradually cooled down upon hearing Chu Qiao’s words.
“I will not stop asking His Majesty to release you,” Ping’An said. “Please endure until I discover your crime.”
Chu Qiao extended her hands, and a Liang royal escort blindfolded her. She received no special treatment and was made to walk long miles.
She endured the hardship in silence, knowing her best friend, Xiao Ce, would not let her suffer without reason.
Ping’An did not leave Chu Qiao’s side, walking closely behind her.
The Beauty Emperor, understanding the situation, allowed this public display of defiance as onlookers carefully observed the Liang envoy’s movements.
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
The rest of the day returned to its usual calm.
Meanwhile, Zuo Zong, gathering spy information about the chaos on the Prairie Silk Road leading to the Khan Road to the Sky, relayed the message to a junior eunuch in the Qinghai Grand Throne Room.
While the Qinghai political elite were in crisis over Ra Yue’s exposed face, Ra Yue himself was preoccupied with thoughts of the minor disruption on the Khan Road to the Sky.
Though he appeared calm, Ra Yue’s mind was elsewhere, contemplating.
“Who is this bold woman who dared block the Khan Road to the Sky?”
Chu Qiao knew that Ra Yue would be informed of her capture immediately. She had hidden the Cangwu bird in her Kam sleeves before the encounter.
Expecting the worst, she anticipated either imprisonment in the Qinghai garrison or rescue, possibly from Yuwen Yue or Xiao Ce. Perhaps both.
Ping’An, noticing Chu Qiao’s deep thoughts, asked, “Master Chu, are you alright?”
Chu Qiao, unwilling to engage, gave Ping’An a light jab and said, “I won’t be alright if you don’t keep your mouth shut.”
“Ow…” Ping’An groaned in pain, falling silent.
Xiao Ce, attempting to regain his composure, struggled to control his racing heart and excitement. Frustrated, he whispered to himself, “I need composure if I want this to work.”
Xiao Ce did not want to reveal his past experiences with Chu Qiao—especially those tied to the forgotten river. He was trying to suppress those memories, including his feelings for Qiao Qiao, as if meeting her for the first time.
This thought brought him some comfort. No matter how many times fate had rewritten his destiny, it seemed that Chu Qiao remained a constant force. With love still in his heart, Xiao Ce realized he no longer wanted to repeat the mistakes of the past.
He vowed to ensure Chu Qiao’s happiness, knowing that only Yuwen Yue could truly give her that. But this time, Xiao Ce was determined not to fail.
With resolve, Xiao Ce declared to himself, “What must happen, will happen.”
While the palace was in chaos, the golden palanquin of Liang entered the Qinghai Majestic Courtyard.
The Grand Qinghai Throne Room fell silent as drum rolls and gongs announced the arrival of the Khan Road to the Sky.
Everyone kowtowed in respect. As the Beauty Emperor stepped out of his ornate palanquin, a fragrant scent filled the air.
Xiao Ce’s entrances were always accompanied by beauty, and today was no different. His world was like an intoxicating blend of perfumes and elegance.
He melted hearts as he strode through the courtyard.
But suddenly, he stopped.
He cast a gloomy glance toward the blindfolded Chu Qiao, who knelt in a kowtow position.
Though most were mesmerized by his presence, few understood why he stopped. Chu Qiao, meanwhile, could only feel her heart race and her breath quicken.
Xiao Ce did not look down but exhaled deeply and continued walking.
Upon entering the Qinghai court, everyone struggled to comprehend what they were witnessing.
The finest Liang maidservants performed a seductive mirror dance for the Qinghai audience, sprinkling vanilla salts and perfume. The crowd, their faces hidden behind masks, was in awe.
Some found the spectacle captivating, others ridiculous, while many were simply shocked. Yet no one dared to criticize the beauty of the sensual display.
Chu Qiao, disgusted by the performance, irritably said to Ping’An, “Close your eyes! You shouldn’t see this.”
She knocked Ping’An’s head to break his gaze from the maidservants.
Meanwhile, some of the Qinghai ministers, feeling more at ease, began to joke and laugh, saying, “That’s it, we can all go home now.”
Yuwen Yue was familiar with Xiao Ce’s style—how he used beauty and spectacle to dazzle and distract. This was no different from the grand entrances he had made in the past.
The Beauty Emperor’s arrival amused the Qinghai court, and reactions were mixed.
Xiao Ce’s grand entrance was meant to create an impact, and it had done just that.
As the crowd whispered and speculated, spies discreetly relayed messages through secret channels.
Xiao Ce, understanding the effect of his entrance, prepared to make his next move.
When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but firm.
“Tell me, is this how Qinghai welcomes guests on the Khan Road to the Sky?”
Ra Yue, maintaining his composure, responded, “Revenge was never part of my plan, but accidents do happen.”
Xiao Ce, with a knowing smile, replied, “I don’t call it revenge. Returning a favor sounds much better, don’t you think?”
The two rulers stood before each other, their words charged with meaning, as if they were the only gods conversing before a goddess whose beauty could launch a thousand ships.
Ra Yue, casting a cold glance at the blindfolded Chu Qiao, made sure she heard every word.
“I trust the Emperor of the South has not forgotten the purpose of his long journey on the Khan Road to the Sky,” Ra Yue said, pausing for effect before continuing, “If you wish to punish her, then this journey is pointless.”
The Qinghai court was stunned by his bold statement.
The murmurs of the crowd grew louder.
“Is he defending her or insulting the Beauty Emperor?”
“Who is this woman deserving of royal attention?”
“Is the Crown Prince of Qinghai preparing for war?”
The atmosphere was tense as the ministers speculated and braced for Xiao Ce’s response.
Surprisingly, Xiao Ce remained calm, thinking, “This is exactly what I expected from Ra Yue.”
Xiao Ce then swayed his head and, locking eyes with Ra Yue, gave him a sweet smile before speaking.
“All these years, you’ve never changed. As cold as Qinghai’s snow-capped mountains, your heart remains frozen. I intend to thaw it, just a little.”
With that, Xiao Ce clapped his hands.
Sun Di came forward, blindfolding Chu Qiao and dragging her in front of the Qinghai court.
The court was stunned by the sight of her.
Xiao Ce, continuing to push Ra Yue, said, “I shall punish and reward my savior by making her my captive. I will take her back to my empire, and you can have whatever rewards you desire as her Qinghai beneficiary.”
The words were polite but cutting, leaving the Qinghai ministers puzzled but not offended.
Chu Qiao, though outwardly calm, listened to every word, her heart hoping for Ra Yue to offer a way out.
Inside, Ra Yue was torn, knowing he had rehearsed this scenario many times. He compared it to “two dogs fighting over a single bone.”
After a long pause, Ra Yue coldly said, “Carry on. Bring in the rewards.”
Chu Qiao’s heart skipped a beat. She had braced herself for this moment, wrapping herself in the coldness that had long defined Ra Yue.
Ra Yue, ever the tactician, had pleased everyone in the room, just as he had always done in the Greenhills courtyard.
When he had to face an open trial and answer to the Redhills Courtyard, along with Master Yuwen Huai, regarding his grandfather Yuwen Xi’s death, Yuwen Yue took the most dangerous but necessary action to save Xing’er’s life.
Without compromising his position or his grandfather Yuwen Gao of the Greenhills Courtyard, Yuwen Yue saw no other way to save her than to temporarily stop her heart using a specialized acupuncture technique, one known only to Yuwen heirs.
While Yuwen Huai strangled Xing’er, her face turning blue, Yuwen Yue had to act swiftly to save the last breath from her body. With cold cruelty laced with mercy, Yuwen Yue spoke calmly: “A woman I cannot control is no better than a dead body.”
Xing’er’s body collapsed, vomiting blood. She looked at Yuwen Yue with immense pain before losing consciousness. Yuwen Yue ordered Yue Qi to take her away, but Yuwen Huai was unconvinced that Xing’er was truly dead. Yue Qi, however, trusted his master’s actions to save her life.
Master Yuwen Huai asked Master Zhang to examine her body. Master Zhang complied and confirmed that she was indeed dead.
Yuwen Huai, now insulted, sneered at Yuwen Yue, saying, “Yuwen Yue, I have underestimated you today.”
Yuwen Yue, maintaining his calm facade despite his racing pulse, knew that time was running out to save Xing’er. Swallowing his cousin’s insult, he merely replied, “My servants die by my hand.”
Even in the midst of Xing’er’s apparent death, Yuwen Yue managed to offer a polite farewell to Master Zhang and Master Yuwen Huai before the trial ended. He then ordered Yue Qi to take Xing’er’s body, masking his emotions as he looked at her lifeless form.
Everyone was left disarmed. No one dared to refute Yuwen Yue, and Yue Qi carried away Xing’er’s temporarily dead body.
Yuwen Yue walked quickly until he encountered Tai Wei, the Imperial Eunuch of the Great Summer Emperor.
The eunuch bowed and greeted Yuwen Yue, delivering an urgent message.
“Kong Zi, Young Master Yuwen Yue, His Majesty summons you.”
Though Yuwen Yue was in a hurry, he hid his anxiety and replied, “Very well. Please wait while I change my clothes at home.”
Tai Wei, pressing the urgency, said, “There is no time for you to change, Young Master Yue. His Majesty will be angry if you delay.”
Yuwen Yue quickly adjusted his plans. He ordered Yue Qi to take Xing’er’s body and await further instructions.
Yuwen Yue then performed a kowtow before remaining kneeling in the Great Summer Throne Room while the Emperor silently wrote manuscripts.
As Yuwen Yue knelt, he observed the scattered white stones and candles in the throne room, his mind drifting as he glanced at the hourglass.
“My needle struck the Guan Yuan acupuncture point on Xing’er, blocking her blood flow and inducing a death-like state. But if not treated in time, the blocked blood will kill her.”
Yuwen Yue’s chest tightened as if he were on the verge of suffocation. He took deep breaths, glancing at the hourglass again.
Finally, the Great Summer Emperor spoke, interrogating Yuwen Yue about the events in the Celestial Prison.
Yuwen Yue was accused of robbery and murder in the prison, but he pleaded not guilty, explaining that he had only been there to kill the assassins.
The Great Summer Emperor responded, “So, it was you.”
Yuwen Yue, in an honest tone, confirmed, “Yes,” and elaborated on his actions and motives.
The Emperor’s face wrinkled with distrust and dismay at Yuwen Yue’s explanation.
When Yuwen Yue finished, the Emperor, still polite, remarked, “You are quite honest.”
Despite the apparent compliment, the remark carried a negative undertone.
Yuwen Yue thanked the Emperor, knowing that a Yuwen heir would face harsh consequences. As expected, the Great Summer Emperor assigned him to the Wei frontier, where he would defend the borders, while Yuwen Huai took over the Eyes of God.
Yuwen Yue heard the order but kept his thoughts focused on the hourglass.
The Emperor noticed his distraction but chose to ignore it, asking if Yuwen Yue would obey the order. Without emotion, Yuwen Yue replied, “I will obey.”
Tai Wei and the Emperor briefly discussed Yuwen Yue’s new post. Tai Wei questioned the Emperor’s trust in Yuwen Yue, but the Emperor simply replied, “He is not one of us.”
Despite his denial, the Emperor recognized that Yuwen Yue followed his own principles, with or without approval.
Yuwen Yue then rushed back to the Greenhills Courtyard, heading straight to Xing’er’s room. But when he arrived, he found only another maidservant. Anxiously, he asked where Xing’er was.
The maidservant informed him that Xing’er had died and that Master Zhou Mao had taken her body to be buried. Yuwen Yue’s face paled as if he were dying himself.
He mounted his horse and rode swiftly.
On this eventful day, Yuwen Yue unexpectedly encountered the Skyshadow Sleeve Master, the Princess of Liang, who had planned an ambush for him and the Yue guards.
Yin Xin and Tao Ye fought fiercely, while Yuwen Yue was momentarily distracted by Princess Xiao Yu as they engaged in martial combat.
Yue Qi arrived during the killing spree and helped Yuwen Yue escape, but the fanatical Yin Xin tried to stop him again. In his haste, Yuwen Yue used the Poe Yue Jian sword to slash Yin Xin’s neck. Blood gushed from the wound, and though Princess Xiao Yu attempted to rescue him, it was too late—Yin Xin died instantly.
Riding at full speed, Yuwen Yue finally reached the graveyard.
With a heavy heart, he searched for Xing’er’s body, only to find a pile of ashes that appeared to have been burned.
The Yue guards desperately fetched water to douse the flames, but it was too late.
After the fire was extinguished, Yuwen Yue knelt, his hands sifting through the blackened ashes, hoping to find any remains of Xing’er. His breath quickened when he unearthed a metal ring.
It was the killer ring he had given to Xing’er—what he called the “finger knife.”
The haunting memories of yesteryears returned to Yuwen Yue’s mind, making him cherish the beautiful, blindfolded figure before him today. He looked at her, his face cold but his hands warm and gentle as they comforted Xing’er’s soul.
The Qinghai Empire and the Beauty Emperor watched in awe, with murmurs filling the air.
“Why do I have goosebumps? Is there romance in the air? Am I the only one seeing this? Why would the Crown Prince lay a hand on a commoner? What is special about her?”
Chu Qiao didn’t move, but she felt the mixture of coldness and warmth from the moment.
The question remained: would she abide by what Yuwen Yue had said?
After untying the blindfold from her face, Yuwen Yue glanced at her dirty sandals, worn and wrapped around her delicate feet. With compassion in his eyes, he signaled to Yue Qi to bring her a new pair of beautiful shoes.
The Qinghai maidservants approached, carrying a basin of pure water and a white velvety washcloth.
Chu Qiao hesitated but gave in when Yue Qi nodded at her. The maidservants began to wash her feet, then dressed them in elegant winter boots that fit perfectly.
This simple act was a way of receiving Chu Qiao’s unspoken agreement.
Chu Qiao, thinking to herself, wondered, “How did he know my size?”
She didn’t protest but instead reflected on Yuwen Yue’s change in behavior and remembered the grave of Xing’er.
Before anyone could react, Xiao Ce spoke, leaving no room for the Qinghai ministers to respond.
“Very well. My stay here ends now. I must return to my empire and bring your hero along with me.”
He looked at Ra Yue and said, “The footwear is nice. I’m surprised to see that you chose to give her away rather than prick her body with your acupuncture skills that only an heir knows.”
Xiao Ce knew what Yuwen Yue had done to Xing’er in the past, nearly killing her to save her.
She had been a discarded pawn in order to save her from execution at the Redhills Courtyard. But that day was full of surprises for Yuwen Yue. It had been Zhong Yu’s spying that ultimately saved Xing’er.
Had it not been for Yan Xun’s order to find Xing’er, Zhong Yu might not have risked it, as it was too dangerous. The Wei’s Oriole Courtyard, where the Prince of Yanbei was detained, was heavily guarded after the Emperor learned what Yuwen Yue had done in the Celestial Prison.
Yan Xun knew that Master Yuwen Huai of the Redhills Courtyard was vile and unforgiving. Though his resources were limited, Yan Xun sent Zhong Yu to save Xing’er.
Xiao Ce, flashing his white teeth in a smile, turned to Chu Qiao and said, “You will come with me to my empire. I will make sure you receive the treatment you deserve.”
Chu Qiao’s eyes, so beautiful, left everyone speechless.
She gave Yuwen Yue a sharp look, but no goodbye was spoken. Silence lingered.
Yuwen Yue’s heart skipped a beat, but he knew that to save her, he had to let her go. He could no longer control fate. Letting her go meant a chain of actions that would unfold in time.
He must let go and not control their fate. Letting her go means nothing but following through a series of actions. Until then, Yuwen Yue chose a higher path to walk, and redeeming her is the end goal.
Can Yuwen Yue endure the memories he recollects and not remember the beauty?
“Of all things you can give, why a pair of winter boots?” asked someone standing beside Yuwen Yue.
“Father, because a woman once told me: ‘I can’t be your fairytale.’
I hope the pair of winter boots helps her find her fairytale. I always hope that in every step she takes, she will find the fairytale back to Qinghai.”
Two pairs of lovely eyes quietly watched the thin snowfall and embraced the coldness of the gloomy skies.
When they arrived at the palace gates of Qinghai, suddenly the first snowfall of the year landed on her rosy cheeks.
It was cold, and the Beauty Emperor was waiting inside the Grand Palanquin, but she stood outside as if she would do so forever.
She did not even thank the cold prince who gave her the new winter boots.
Yuwen Yue knew she would need them to protect her feet from the harsh coldness of the hinterland wilderness. They were an important possession if she wanted to live long while traveling the Khan Road to the Sky.
Calm and composed, Yuwen Yue watched the beauty from a distance until the convoy and caravans were gone. He stood there for hours and did not leave his post until dawn. He finally said, “Wait for me until the new moon comes.”
The Beauty Emperor traveled back to the Liang Empire via the Khan Road to the Sky.
He thought he was safer and more content now that he had stolen the beauty from Yuwen Yue.
He was quite touched when Yuwen Yue changed Chu Qiao’s dirty sandals. But giving shoes as a gift means you are sending your loved one away from you.
Has Yuwen Yue totally forgotten her and given her away forever?
Xiao Ce’s thoughts tempted him to think this way, but he wouldn’t allow himself to feel it, lest he forget why he came to find his savior.
The beauty was sitting in a Buddha position behind the Beauty Emperor inside the Grand Palanquin. But she seemed more like a stranger than a friend to her best friend.
She wanted to joke or pick a fight with Xiao Ce, but it seemed the Beauty Emperor was more serious than he had been in their former days. However, she also thought, why would she receive this special treatment of riding in his grand palanquin back to the Liang Empire?
Chu Qiao was thinking otherwise.
Xiao Ce closed his eyes most of the time while both of them sat quietly in the grand palanquin.
He wanted to hug her and welcome her, but he pretended he did not know her, lest he reveal his racing pulse and rapid heartbeat. He had never been much in control of his emotions—until today.
After many nights and days of travel, the Grand Palanquin finally arrived at the Liang Empire.
Xiao Ce dropped the beauty in the middle of Xue Fu Street, so uncaring and indifferent. The Liang horsemen tapped their horses, and the Grand Palanquin slowly rode into the distance.
Xiao Ce’s eyes were tempted to look at the beauty; he glanced sideways but didn’t say a word. He pretended he did not know her and turned a blind eye to the beauty.
Knowing in advance, Xiao Ce had already taken care of everything before this historic journey along the Khan Road to the Sky. He expected these things to happen, and all went according to his plan.
He felt he was the happiest emperor living on earth.
Chu Qiao was left alone in the middle of Xue Fu Street. Looking down and walking slowly, she smiled like a child at her winter boots but turned a bitter face when she thought:
“Winter boots are fine, but can my heart be well too?”
All of a sudden, a camel and a donkey, droopy with saliva pouring to the ground, appeared in her sight.
Both animals could not complain but clearly showed the weariness of their bodies.
The owner said, “Come on! I just fetched a drum of water and stored it in your mouth. You cannot sleep here!” grumbled the owner.
Suddenly, Chu Qiao spanked the owner and said,
“Who told you to mistreat these humble animals? Huh? Huh?”
Chu Qiao was about to hit his head like a mother scolding her son.
Suddenly, the owner opened his cloak and said,
“Easy, easy, Master Chu. It is I, Ping’An. I have a slight animal issue. Can’t you see?”
Chu Qiao finally let go of her weariness and threw herself into the middle of the street. She said, “Fine, what is your animal issue?”
Ping’An started to laugh and couldn’t complain anymore.
The two warm bodies laughed out loud and went for a long walk and talk that night.
Ping’An asked his Master Chu if she wanted to live with Mei Xiang, who was waiting for her return on Xue Fu Street. Chu Qiao eventually agreed to come with Ping’An and live with Mei Xiang.
When she arrived, the Kowloon Noodle House had not changed except for the closed restaurant with empty tables and seats. She did not reopen the Kowloon Noodle House but started a new business with the help of Zao Baocung.
With the small capital she earned when she used to be a trader of dried plum fruits and fine silks in Qinghai back to the Moon Kingdom, she used the profits to construct a new hotel.
Chu Qiao lived a quiet life on Xue Fu Street.
If not always stirred by a celestial being every day, she could call it a simple and happy life.
The Beauty Emperor offered her every penny as a reward, but Chu Qiao rejected everything, saying,
“Being the Beauty Emperor’s captive is already a reward. I already have your kindness. Your Majesty, why do you keep bugging Xue Fu Street every day?”
The Beauty Emperor, mesmerized by her angry eyes, couldn’t respond rationally but kept an indifferent face, saying,
“Did you know that it is rude to reject an offer? This is not even a reward but a punishment. I am your captor, but you dare to reject your punishment every day? Why?”
Chu Qiao wanted to continue pretending in Xiao Ce’s mockery games, but she was tired of acting in this role-play with her best friend. She said,
“Why do I reject it? Because you are getting obvious every day.”
Xiao Ce raised his sword-like eyebrows; the amused arched lips and blinking foxy eyes were shut on the spot. He couldn’t argue anymore, thinking,
“This is a slap to my face; how can I still come to see her with this kind of face?”
Chu Qiao laughed, feeling as if she had slapped Xiao Ce’s face three thousand times, and looked at his clumsy, bumbling expression.
Chu Qiao was waiting for any reply, but there was none.
So she dismissed her best friend casually.
“If you come again tomorrow asking the same thing, I won’t be afraid to invade your chambers and seduce you to kill you.”
Xiao Ce smiled, tickled by his romantic feelings towards Chu Qiao. He started to show a gloomy eye, sincere but sad, and said,
“I think I’d like to be seduced. But the killing part—I don’t believe your hands will harm someone you dearly loved in the past.”
Xiao Ce had just revealed a memory of the past to her. But shifting his facial expression, he squinted his eyes, giving Chu Qiao direct eye contact. Back to a mocking tone, he said,
“Hey, did we really know each other in the past?”
His foxy eyes, to die for, beamed at her. Then, returning to his serious face, he added, “I’ll make sure I am ready. I will wait for you.”
The Beauty Emperor laughed out loud and left Xue Fu Street cheerfully.
The royal guards did not understand, but who would dare to question the Beauty Emperor?
It seemed these were all mixed signals Chu Qiao needed to decode and understand.
She finally dismissed the thought.
“So what now? This is tiring. I am so tired of the Beauty Emperor’s role-playing.”
But a corner of her mind shouted,
“Try, for one night. You might find the answers you want to know. Besides, it seems the Beauty Emperor not only gave his approval but insists, for god’s sake!”
Chu Qiao thought this was crazy, but maybe if she started to bring the knife to his chambers, Xiao Ce might stop pestering Xue Fu Street.
She laughed heartily as she ended the happy thoughts.
Days and nights turned into months, and months into a year.
Xiao Ce had never been happier whenever he visited the tomb of the Phoenix Empress.
He thought he would be single forever.
Sun Di asked him, “Your Majesty, why do you keep mourning her when she is alive and well?”
“She is the love of my life, and yet I can only watch her from a distance. I am still dreaming because she is still under my care. She chose to live on Xue Fu Street, took a simple life, and never dared to come and talk to me.”
Xiao Ce turned sad eyes toward the empty mausoleum of the Phoenix Empress.
“And you often come to see her in person, yet you disguise yourself as a common man just to look after her,” said Sun Di.
“How can I stop loving her when loving her means she has to die every day in my heart like this…” Xiao Ce couldn’t stop the words pouring from his mouth.
Sun Di understood and replied,
“That is deep, Your Majesty. Do you really have to punish yourself this way? Why don’t you just go and tell her the truth? I think she is also waiting for you to return to your former self.”
“Really?” Xiao Ce smiled, raised his beautiful eyebrows, and said,
“General, you never fail to uplift me, and you just know the words I want to hear.”
Sun Di smiled bitterly and said,
“I think Your Majesty has been very lonely for a long time. Tell me if there is a way I can contribute to your happiness.”
Xiao Ce’s eyes bloomed like a beautiful budding flower as he said,
“My happiness is to see Qiao Qiao marry Yuwen Yue. How is this possible when the cold Qinghai Prince does not even come and visit the Khan Road to the Sky? He must return my favor, don’t you think?”
Sun Di beamed at him and said,
“This is impossible happiness, Your Majesty. Why do you disown your own happiness, take yourself out of the equation, and nominate the Master Ice Cube?”
“Understand this,”
Xiao Ce, speaking from his heart, continued,
“I had my chance, and my dream came true for a day, but every time a dream comes true, the gods snatch it away. I got tired of it. I am so tired of making dreams come true. Let it be a dream, and this empty mausoleum is my reality.”
Sun Di could not find words to appease the Beauty Emperor’s heart. He said,
“Very well, may Your Majesty perform this celestial favor so well that you may reap good rewards, whether in this life or in the afterlife.”
Xiao Ce heard what he liked to hear, tapped Sun Di’s shoulder, and said,
“Just be by my side and be loyal to me. That’s all it takes.”
Sun Di nodded at Xiao Ce, and they took their horses back to Daoming Palace.
Although the beauty lived a quiet and low-profile life, there were days when some of her former comrades visited the newly opened hotel.
He Xiao, in disguise, came to deliver fresh fruits and flowers. He said to Mei Xiang,
“Please give this to General Chu.”
Chu Qiao received He Xiao’s deliveries, then read a short note:
“General Chu, if you want to come in secret, please meet your Xuili in Tang Jing Mountains.”
After the civil unrest in the Liang Empire, the Xuili Army was driven to the farthest reaches of the Tang Jing Mountains and settled in the forest.
The army had greatly assisted in fighting the insurgency in the main city but lost almost half of its population during battles from the third to second prefectures.
They were not able to wipe out all of former Empress Yuan’s alliances but defeated General Sui. He Xiao finally ascertained his loyalty to the throne.
While Prince Luo was captured and detained in the secret prison of Liang, Empress Yuan eluded capture during the bloody conflicts but died during the Phoenix Empress’s enthronement.
Although the Xuili Army proved their loyalty to the present Emperor, they were responsible for General Sui’s death. This put them in a politically unstable position with the Liang Empire’s ministers and noble clans.
Hence, Xiao Ce decommissioned the Xuili Army and passed a decree to place them in concentration camps atop the Tang Jing Mountains.
No outsider was allowed to trespass.
In reality, the Xuili Army was supposed to appear as if they received punishment from the Beauty Emperor for the death of General Sui. But the death of the respectable Duke of Liang helped Xiao Ce’s reign gain peace and stability. Again, Xiao Ce mastered public perception by wearing masks; the Xuili’s punishment became a retirement haven. Indeed, one can never say a punishment is always negative and a reward is always positive when Xiao Ce continues to play his pantomime.
“Okay, this is it!”
Chu Qiao burned He Xiao’s note.
She did not want to boss around but wanted to know the situation in the Xuili Army. She said,
“Can I drop by the Xuili camp and just become a ghost?”
“Ping’An, bring me my horse. I have work to do.” Chu Qiao was putting on her winter boots; she looked stunning. She stood up and put on her long dark, blood-red hoodie.
Before Ping’An could speak, Chu Qiao added, “And shut your mouth, just do as I say!”
Ping’An did not complain but prepared two horses; he could not let Chu Qiao ride alone.
“Master Chu, the horse is waiting outside.”
Chu Qiao went outside but saw two horses waiting, not one. Ping’An stood beside the other horse and said, “I will be in stealth mode. You go and do not worry about me.”
Chu Qiao wrinkled her brows and said, “Who said I would ride alone?”
The youngster’s head went down; he looked up straight at his master and said, “Are you sure, Master? I can ride with you?”
Chu Qiao climbed on her horse and, in a sarcastic tone, said, “Are you deaf or what? Do you want to repeat every word I just said?”
Ping’An climbed on his horse too.
“Hee-yah!”
Chu Qiao tapped the horse’s side, and the two warm bodies sped into a fast run.
After six hours, they finally arrived at the Tang Jing Mountains, though still far from the main gate. It was Chu Qiao’s first time seeing it up close, and she said, “Is this Xuili’s concentration camp? This is a horrible place.”
Suddenly, hundreds of mirrors turned 180 degrees, and burning torches reflected light below. Before anyone could react, Ping’An jumped from his horse and used his cape to sweep away all the auto-crossbow arrows fired at Chu Qiao. His martial arts were excellent, and Chu Qiao was impressed.
Pretending not to be surprised, Chu Qiao said, “Impressive. You know all of these traps?”
Ping’An bowed to his master, replying, “Yes, Master Chu. I know all of the stratagems planted around this place.”
“Hmm… good. Take me there, and make sure we stay alive before any of these traps drain our energy.”
Chu Qiao was about to walk when Ping’An warned her, “Master Chu, you have to stop right there.”
“After the Beauty Emperor’s miraculous escape from near-death, this was the first project he focused on. Follow my footsteps, and we’ll both arrive safely at the beautiful paradise resting on top of this mountain.”
Ping’An also added, “Master, when we reach the top, you’ll understand why.”
“You could tell me now,” Chu Qiao teased, her voice light.
Ping’An, knowing many things, explained, “It was primarily built as an observatory prefecture, where you can see the shooting stars in a clear sky, the harsh winter lands of Yanbei, and behold the Great Wall that leads to Qinghai. Everything within these perimeters is not so nice and not so friendly, as he always says.”
Chu Qiao smirked and said, “You really know the Beauty Emperor well. Let’s hurry up, then. I want to see it before nightfall.”
“A pontoon bridge?” Chu Qiao shouted to Ping’An.
“Yes, Master. No one can pass unless Xuili opens the pontoon bridge. Please be quiet.” Ping’An whistled like a bird, and suddenly the Cangwu birds echoed his whistle.
Chu Qiao was amazed by the singing birds and said, “The trill of the Cangwu birds! Wow!”
“Yes, of course. Master Chu, everyone in Xuili has to practice the trill of the Cangwu birds, or they cannot enter this so-called paradise forest.”
Chu Qiao suspected that Master Xie Tai Shan’s lodge was near Tang Jing Mountain, as this location was between the borders of the Liang and Wei Empires, where many Cangwu birds resided in their natural habitat.
After the trill of the Cangwu birds, which lasted for 30 minutes, the mountain suddenly fell silent.
A squeaking noise was heard as the moss-covered pontoon bridge, wrapped with wild, delicate forest flowers, slowly extended to reach the other side. Like a puzzle, the short pontoon bridge pivoted to a 180-degree position and extended slightly further to where they stood. Chu Qiao thought,
“There is a special mechanism attached here—something only a Mohist master could create and design.”
He Xiao was waiting on the other side and said, “Welcome, General Chu Qiao, to the Xuili Army’s concentration camp.”
“Shut up, He Xiao!” Chu Qiao smiled at the handsome, ever-gorgeous Xuili Deputy. He Xiao laughed and said, “Thanks so much for coming. This is still unbelievable, General.”
Chu Qiao frowned, saying, “Are you going to keep me waiting here all night?”
He Xiao chuckled and responded, “Ah, my apologies, General Chu. In fact, we have prepared a small gathering for you.”
“How did you know I was coming today?” Chu Qiao asked, though not really surprised.
He Xiao glanced at Ping’An and said, “From Yanbei to Liang, he is the best spy and most loyal person to General Chu. I trust him. How was the turkey on fire, General Chu?”
Ping’An smiled as they followed He Xiao into the concentration camp. When they arrived, Lieutenants Ge Qi and Wu Danyu greeted them from both sides.
“General Chu, what a pleasant surprise,” said Ge Qi as he handed jade goblets to Chu Qiao, He Xiao, and Ping’An.
“Welcome once again, my General,” Wu Danyu said, raising the jade goblet in the air in a toasting gesture toward Chu Qiao. Everyone followed.
The surprise visit quickly turned into a reunion celebration. Chu Qiao had never been happier, meeting her former comrades and talking to them as though it had been only yesterday.
They received the rations and armaments that Chu Qiao had sent through Zao Baocung while she worked closely with the Moon Kingdom to elevate its economic status.
He Xiao displayed many small spirit tablet necklaces made of wood, hanging from the Xuili banner flagpole. The engraved names belonged to the brave and fallen warriors of Xuili’s renowned Firefox Dog Army.
Chu Qiao paid her respects, writing Chinese inscriptions on the ground to honor their memory.
“从美丽到灰烬，勇敢与堕落永远不会忘记”
“From beauty to ashes, the brave and the fallen are never forgotten.”
From that day onward, Chu Qiao maintained open contact with the Xuili Army. Occasionally, she sat with the officers and listened to updates on Yanbei’s hostile attacks at the Yanming Guan Pass, aided by Prince Yuan Yang of Wei.
The two forces had joined together, fortifying their alliance with the goal of creating a powerful opposing force. Meanwhile, Prince Yuan Che, stationed at the frontier defending Wei’s walls, left a deep void after their forces split.
The Yanming Guan Pass was a strategic stronghold that Wei could not afford to lose. Its collapse would compromise the empire’s major frontiers and weaken its security.
Losing control of the pass could also make the Great Summer Empire vulnerable to attacks on its smaller cities, though Chang’An would remain a fortified city as long as the Great Summer Dynasty ruled. The Eyes of God, a massive clockwork mechanism, still protected the city, capable of mass destruction around Hong Chuan City, amidst its vast nomad plateaus.
Prince Yuan Yang knew this well and dared not to attack again after their last encounter. However, the King of Yanbei, ambitious and ruthless, sought to break through the fortified walls and reduce them to ashes.
Yan Xun’s dark plots remained unquenched. He had said,
“Even if the Beauty Army were to collide with and block the Black Eagle Cavalry, no one who stands in the way of the world will be forgiven.”
Chapter 82
Beguiled King
Qinghai is cold and the snow is thick, and so is Great Summer.
The Great Summer Emperor reads the news and states: “Commercial warfare.”
Suddenly, a finger taps the golden table as the divine Emperor thinks deeply about the situation.
After the disappearance of Wei’s crown princess Xiao Ba, another problem surfaces.
Tai Wei interrupts and says: “Your Majesty, in other words, there is a trade war.”
The Great Summer Emperor may have heard it the first time, but not for Yuwen Yue. He has been exposed to western culture and trade practices, allowing him to seize the rebound of goods and services and deplete Great Summer’s black market sources.
Not to mention, the illegal trade of slave labor has slowed down, causing a clamor among the Great Summer Empire’s aristocrats, who are eager to know who is behind the stoppage of their usual activities.
The usual activity of the Wei and Yuwen aristocrats, buying slaves, has declined, reducing the manpower needed for elite households. Also, almost half of the storehouses in Wei have not been replenished in time.
Thus, a scarcity report was written by the Ministry of Agriculture, enough to place the Emperor in the uncomfortable position of introspective thinking, and he said:
“This cannot go on, or we will exhaust Xiaoqi army supplies and drive the people of Wei into infighting.”
“Yes, Your Grace, aren’t you going to summon the Eyes of God?” said Tai Wei.
“The Eyes of God have been passive since then. The Yuwen household must have known this in advance, yet they did not play their role in uncovering the cause. Sometimes, I am more inclined to believe the rumors in the marketplace than the reports I read on this table.”
Tai Wei bowed his head to the Emperor and said: “Your Highness, may I ask you something?”
“Ask.” The Emperor took the calligraphy brush and began to write.
“Have you heard about the Black Sun Pirate and the White Robin Hood?”
The Emperor continued to write and did not answer Tai Wei, but gave a rhetorical look to his writing. Raising one of his eyebrows, he finally said: “I heard rumors that the Black Sun Pirate escaped the blades of Yanbei. To be specific, he is from the esteemed but slain Ouyang family of the Northland Yanbei.”
“Your Highness, you’ve heard these sorts of stories. Do you believe this rumor without proven evidence?” Tai Wei politely asked the Emperor, but the Emperor continued to display a cold face.
After a while, the Wei Emperor asked Tai Wei: “And the White Robin Hood, what do you know about him?”
Tai Wei did not want to tell senseless information to the Emperor but wanted to answer His Highness, so he said: “I heard he is like a ghost of the past, who came back to reclaim all the time that his enemies stole from him.”
The Emperor stopped writing and gave Tai Wei a formal look. But suddenly, the wrinkles in his eyes followed a burst of loud laughter: “Ha…Ha…Ha…”
“Tai Wei, how old are you? You still listen to bedtime stories?” The scene was relaxed, but Tai Wei was anxious, for he did not expect the Emperor’s burst of laughter.
“Tell me his name,” said the Emperor.
Tai Wei, uncomfortable and more anxious, could not say the name according to palace protocol. The rumors had come from the palace ministry of scullery.
The Emperor sensed that Tai Wei was thinking too much and said: “Come on, sometimes we must be aware of these rumors. I want to know his name.”
Tai Wei could not back out from the discussion and said: “It is forbidden to utter this name according to the decree of Your Highness.”
The Emperor shook his head from left to right and smiled, an ugly smile. He said: “Are you disobeying me or following an outdated decree?”
Though spoken softly, the Emperor’s face was not happy. Tai Wei was left in confusion, unable to respond.
“Was it the late Yuwen heir?” The Emperor continued to sway his head from left to right and looked at him in dismay.
“Your Highness, when you say outdated decree, are you retracting the decree officially today? After all, it is just a rumor; you should not pay attention to it,” Tai Wei wanted to dismiss or even sway the matter to avoid further discussion.
“But why do I feel like I want to believe that the dead can rise from the grave?” Suddenly, the Emperor felt alive and wanted more dialogue, but Tai Wei wished to avoid the topic.
“Your Majesty, whatever you choose to believe, do not forget that we need hard facts to support it. You cannot rely on palace rumors, especially when they involve the Yuwen nobles,” said Tai Wei.
“Hmmm…” The Great Summer Emperor thought for a while and said:
“The passiveness of the Yuwen household says a lot and attests to these palace rumors that the ghost of the past is alive and is collecting every Yuwen debt to regain its lordship. In fact, it is the noblest thing to do, and if this is true, he must have taken on the responsibility to redeem himself. Another fact is that I have been dreaming of this coming true, and it looks like the heavens have allowed it to happen at this time.”
“Tai Wei, send this letter to the Eyes of God. I must know if the Yuwen heir is truly alive.”
The Emperor stood up and walked toward the corridor outside the Throne Room.
The dumping of foreign currency has largely affected the main grass dynasties, leading to the depreciation of the Wei rich lords’ ability to run their businesses and economy within Great Summer.
While Qinghai’s crown prince, Ra Yue, leads a series of retaliations and counter-retaliations to control the trade war between the Wei and Qinghai Empires, Yanbei remains untouched and unaffected.
The Liang State and Huai Song were beneficiaries of their Yan benefactors, and thus, their economies remain stable despite Qinghai’s measures to control all sea routes. Competition with foreign markets imposed tariffs and non-tariff barriers to restrict the entry of goods from other countries directly into Qinghai markets.
In other words, no one may buy or sell these exports or imports unless they pass through Qinghai markets first.
Yanbei may have expanded their influence over Ximeng and taken over Liang commerce through the secret chamber commerce called the Datong Way.
While the Wei Empire remains stagnant with its established black markets, it can almost dictate which of the grass dynasties will struggle with famine and scarcity.
However, these black markets and illegal trades were later raided by the Black Sun Pirate, who introduced their ruffian presence by launching voyages to conquer the seas.
These pirates are very cruel and cunning, setting traps that drove thousands of boats and ships into their control, taking over port-to-port trade.
Their leader, called the White Robinhood, once said:
“Whoever controls the sea controls the world’s wealth.”
“Reporting to Your Highness, the grass economy of Yanbei has a steady flow as the Liang Empire and Huai Song State benefit from your gracious efforts,” said Meng Feng.
Yuwen Yue was at ease hearing the report. He nodded at the spy and waved his hand to dismiss her. Meng Feng did not leave yet and said: “Master, I have something else to tell you.”
Yuwen Yue suddenly looked in her direction and gave her a cold look. “What do you have to say?”
“Xiaoqi spies may have been lurking around the local warehouses and found our workers and their children. I am sure their next step will be to report to the Seventh Prince of Wei (Yuan Che).” Meng Feng, still on her knees, waited for Yuwen Yue’s words.
Yuwen Yue was not surprised. In fact, he secretly hoped his former Commander in Chief would find him in order. He also knew that it was only a matter of time before Xiaoqi’s food and shelter supplies would be in scarcity. “There is much to do,” he thought to himself.
Yuwen Yue said:
“When the cat becomes hungry, will it not look for a mouse and its cheese? And when this happens, will you not protect the mouse and its cheese?”
Meng Feng answered Yuwen Yue:
“We will have to defend the parents, the children, and the storehouses, but certainly, we will be like ants biting a giant’s feet.”
“That is not your problem to think about.”
Yuwen Yue paused, relaxed his tense mood, and continued:
“But this is good. You have brought this to my attention. It is good to bite the giant’s feet for a short while, while waiting for the white rabbit balloons’ reinforcements, don’t you think?”
Meng Feng couldn’t hold it anymore; she let a chuckle escape her lips to the ears of Yuwen Yue. She couldn’t imagine what these white rabbit balloons could do to save the ants biting at the giant’s feet.
Yuwen Yue gave her a cold look, hearing her chuckle, and said:
“I don’t have to explain all these things, but trust that whoever is behind your back is not ordinary, but elite troops.”
The smell of fresh bearskin filled the air as the King of the Black Hawk Cavalry strode into Yanbei’s so-called War Room Council.
The Yan generals were noisily discussing the attacks and strategy to conquer the Yan Mingguan Pass. They were busy studying the Ximeng map when, suddenly, Yan Xun violently crumpled the map and tore it piece by piece in front of them.
The War Room Council gave the Yanbei King a blank stare.
One of the Yan generals complained:
“This is blunt. This ancient map has been handed down from our ancestors to our generation, only to become trash today? Help me understand.”
Yan Xun squinted his eyes but did not bother to answer the question.
It looked as if he had committed a crime in the eyes of the Yan generals, and it seemed as though they wanted to ambush him that night.
To complete the day, he did worse than tearing the old ancient maps of Yan. He said:
“A’Jing, the lamp.”
Yan Xun smiled with a debonair expression, mocking the Yan generals as he picked up a piece of the map and began to burn it in the lamp.
Afterwards, he made sure everyone’s eyes were on him as he dropped the burning map piece to the ground.
The fire spread and burned all of the thousand-year-old maps of Yanbei.
“Looks dramatic,” said Cao Meng Tong, although he liked what Yan Xun did to the old map, even though he couldn’t understand the logic or predict his next moves.
The other Yan generals could only stare at the horrible scene, unable to utter any words of disappointment. They shrugged their shoulders and complained slyly:
“This is the end of Yanbei.”
Yan Xun, his face expressionless, took the lamp from A’Jing’s hands and raised it for the Yan generals to see his now-antique face.
He gave an evil smile to everyone and grunted:
“Why do you all have those looks on your faces? Have I committed a crime against the ancestors?”
One of the oldest and wisest Yan generals stepped forward and said:
“We have followed this map for a thousand years. It led this empire to its former glory, success, and wealth, yet your hands tore it apart as if it were of no value at all. Today, it is just a piece of trash, but burning it? Now, it has turned to ash.”
Yan Xun couldn’t hide his amusement. He clapped his hands and said:
“Bravo! I knew you would give a speech like this. Isn’t it true that you are the oldest of the War Room Council? But you were not able to save any of the Yan grass cities or Yan blood, except the one in front of you.”
As Yan Xun shamed the oldest Yan general, everyone’s faces grew uglier as they swallowed each word that came from Yan Xun’s mouth.
“They will have more blunts tonight than yesterday,” they whispered.
“We’re screwed,” said General Cao Meng Tong.
“What? You’re the only one who’s screwed here. Don’t include me in it,” replied one of the Yan generals.
Cao Meng Tong looked at the general and asked, “Does he know about Huan Huan?”
The Yan general pulled a dagger from his side and pointed it at him, saying: “If this Datong secret gets out tonight, I will be the first to cut your throat!”
As the War Room Council held their breath and controlled their tongues, Yan Xun confidently walked toward the old Yan general and whispered:
“Don’t you think it’s time for a new map, one without Datong?”
Yan Xun put his fingers to his mouth and whistled.
Young servants marched into the War Room Council and spread out a carpet-like map where the old one had been on the wooden table.
This time, the new map was hung on the wall of the War Room Council, and lamps behind it illuminated it even at night.
All eyes were glued to the new map, and everyone was astonished because the brooks, mountains, rivers, valleys, command posts, and even the Nada Palace in the XuiXui mountains were depicted exactly as they were.
The materials used were genius, and the artist who made this true-to-life map on fabric was truly amazing.
It was as large as the entire wall of the War Room Council, and everyone forgot about their regrets and heartache over the old map.
“Come closer and feel the difference. This is not a cheap map,” said Yan Xun.
The Yan generals approached and touched the map. Some smelled the fabric and said:
“This is no ordinary map; it has been dipped in gold and silver metallic compounds.”
Cao Meng Tong said: “I can smell fresh blood in it.”
“Now, we can begin to form Yan’s strategies and attacks. Using this map will ensure accurate locations, calculated distances, and here…”
Yan Xun pointed to a new location that looked like local warehouses with small huts added.
“This is new, and it’s interesting. I’ve just added it to the map.”
“A’Jing, explain the terrain we must navigate,” ordered Yan Xun.
The handsome king threw himself on the main couch made of suede fabric and relaxed a bit.
“We believe the Xiaoqi camp has built large storehouses in this area,” A’Jing said, pointing to the exact location.
“We also think these storehouses were built to reinforce the Xiaoqi camp at this strategic pass.”
Cao Meng Tong, growing curious, asked:
“Why would they build such a storehouse in a place that’s difficult to reach and hidden from everyone’s eyes? And, let me see—it’s close to the land of deadly scorpions and venomous snakes in the Qinghai Empire.”
Shaking his head, Cao Meng Tong couldn’t understand the logic of such a storehouse.
“You make good points,” A’Jing said, stirring the interest of the Yan generals.
Yan Xun listened but appeared indifferent.
Another general posed an opinion: “Since General A’Jing said earlier that they think, but are not entirely sure, maybe this is a decoy storehouse meant to confuse, or a trap location for an ambush.”
Another Yan general spoke: “I believe a new troop presence has encamped at this location, a troop we know nothing about.”
Yan Xun suddenly stood up and said:
“This is it! I knew Yan is never short of thinkers. How can we confirm your theory?”
“Send spies!”
A female voice rang in the ears of the War Room Council.
It was not a mere suggestion, but an urgent directive.
“Ah, the feather girl! Were you late?” said A’Jing.
Zhong Yu had apparently been observing the entire dramatic scene and bloody strategic discussion with the new Yanbei map. She was taken aback by the notion that Yan Xun’s whispered comment—”Don’t you think it’s time for a new map, one without Datong?”—might not have been a joke.
Every path of Yanbei leaders, generals, military troops, and even its citizens has been forced and pushed to take a test of loyalty.
Recalling the forsaken Xuili army, the former renowned firefox dogs of Yan Schicheng were stripped of their core and oath of loyalty to their own flag, forcing them to leave Yanbei and settle in a less hospitable and unfriendly land.
Now it is time for the Datong Way. It has never been tested on the path of loyalty—until today.
If Qinghai planned the Moon Kingdom’s extinction, Yanbei began arranging the funeral party to cremate the Datong Way.
Even if Wei successfully deployed the Blackguards’ mass destruction over the grass empire of Yan, there is a seed that has been set apart to take over the cold, harsh lands of Yanbei.
This new seed is like stubborn grass growing in the vast graveyard of the slain empire. Under the protection of Wu Daoya and the non-governmental elite spies, Zhong Yu and Viper, Yanbei is likely to flourish under a new regime that will shape the future of its citizens.
The secret chamber of commerce, or the Datong Way, was mainly composed of loyal subjects like Yanbei military generals and filthy rich merchant traders from the elite business class of Yan nobles, who kept several secrets equivalent to the value of their blood.
Even though the Yan royal family suffered contempt and annihilation at the hands of the Great Summer, the Datong Way’s vision was one of continuation without distraction.
The last history should prompt the Datong Way to reflect and never forget that the Great Summer’s grass mower, the Blackguards of the Batuha State, will one day trim and cut Yanbei’s tall grass.
The Yan royal family gained immense affection from its people, spreading its wings across Chang’an, the capital of Wei.
It is not beyond suspicion that one day they shall rise to take over Wei State.
Even if the entire Yan royal family swears and offers their last drop of blood to prove loyalty to the Great Summer throne, they are never seen as friends but always as potential rivals who wouldn’t hesitate to strengthen their grip on the Great Summer throne.
Therefore, the prospect of mass destruction becomes a regular agenda, and Yan citizens will not survive unless a seed from the Datong Way guarantees a sprout for the future.
The Datong Way understands this—the rise and fall, the losses.
As long as the Datong Way continues to steer the trade and economy of each state underground, it ensures that their vision can be achieved at any point in time.
A thumping sound was heard from a table full of crumpled snow papers.
The Master’s hand could not finalize a response to the letter, preferring instead to wallow in darkness, cold, alone, and fuming with beautiful hatred.
Yuwen Gao wanted to reply to the Emperor’s letter; however, he could not find the suitable words to explain the Eyes of God’s passiveness.
It was clear that he had deceived the Emperor twice. First, with his own fake death. Now, with the fake death of the Yuwen heir. How is he supposed to explain further?
He should either cut off his own head or drink poison, and maybe that would make his life easier.
When the Emperor learns of this fake death, all Yuwen Gao deserves is to be called a traitor to the Empire. However, it remains shrouded in mystery, as the Emperor made the final call an hour before Yuwen Huai to cancel the execution of the uncle from the fourth branch of the Yuwen household.
Even though Yuwen Gao did not participate in the public trial known as the Shen Jin Gong Execution, Wei Guang reasoned that the Shen Jin Gong is a sacred execution reserved for royals. Though the Yuwens are considered a noble household, they do not meet the predetermined criteria for this execution.
Yuwen Gao no longer has any relatives in the Yuwen fourth branch household.
The Eyes of God was also abandoned by its slaves and servants. After the execution was canceled, Yuwen Huai was exiled to the farthest north, while Yuwen Gao was imprisoned for half a year.
Two swift spies had just finished surveying the terrain. One of them removed his extended telescopic device made of steel and wood, nodded to the other, and they both moved.
Suddenly, a sharp wind followed their trail, and two arrows trailed behind them.
Time rushed to seal their fate. One of the spies was shot in the back and died on the spot.
The other spy remained calm, ignoring his fallen comrade. He reached for a lever at his waist.
The spy seemed to defy gravity, floating in the air. Fast and smooth, he trailed along a horizontal zip line, then pushed another lever from his waist.
He twirled, transferred to the other side, and cut the first rope, now trailing along a vertical zip line from the other side of the mountain.
The execution was perfect and flawless.
Meng Feng arrived late at the spy’s location and saw the dead body.
The hunt had succeeded in taking one life but missed the other target.
She removed the arrows from the dead body, took the evidence, and hid it in her backpack.
Meanwhile, the Seventh Prince received the spy’s report and twitched his palms.
He was likely to order the Xiaoqi army to raid the local warehouses found in the hidden valley of YanMing Guan Strategic Pass and find out who they belonged to.
Yuan Che’s infallible mind considered whether they were adversaries or potential allies.
He leaned toward the second option for peace of mind but prepared for the first, as peace of mind is a fleeting luxury.
“Ah, this is going to be a mind-wrecking situation if I stay here and do not scrutinize the latest developments of any facilities built at my perimeter.”
Yuan Che finally approved his thought and passed an order to the Xiaoqi generals.
Yuan Che called for an emergency meeting and opened with:
“How many of you think we have an enemy closer to us than we realize?”
General Xue answered:
“Your Highness, based on the spy report, I think they are not new enemies but possibly not new friends either. I have seen the maps where the local warehouses were built. We all know the hidden valley is impassable, almost impenetrable.”
One of the Xiaoqi generals nudged and said:
“If it never existed before and now exists, we might as well call it a ghost town.”
Yuan Che looked at the general in confusion, while the other generals, including General Xue, looked lost.
The general continued his half-joke:
“For only ghosts can enter that area. It is highly airtight, hermetic by nature. Unless our friend or foe has an airborne unit to breach its skies, they are still considered flesh and blood.”
General Xue, feeling proud, said:
“I’m buying this, even if it’s an expensive thought.”
General Xue nailed Yuan Che’s suspicions when he heard:
“Pass the decree to Cipher 1. Xiaoqi shall attack at dawn!”
Everyone knew what a Cipher 1 code meant.
It contained the Seventh Prince’s jade pass, which would be surrendered to the Great Summer Emperor and did not need approval.
This also meant that Crown Prince Yuan Song would be forced to oversee the Xiaoqi camp while Yuan Che focused on securing the frontier.
Yuan Che wanted to see the hidden valley himself, even though it was considered a suicide mission.
Casualties were already expected, though not projected to be high, as security measures would be taken to protect the Commander in Chief, who volunteered himself.
It was a no-turning-back event.
The Great Summer Emperor wanted to laugh and cry when he received the Cipher 1 code.
It could not be questioned; the authority was firm and resolute as he read the seal of the Seventh Prince. The Emperor knew his son must have a serious reason for his decision to surrender his jade pass.
Though it guarantees no safe return, it comes with the assurance of maximum security to ensure the Seventh Prince’s safety.
The Thirteenth Prince received the decree from his father. It was earnest and required him to take over the Xiaoqi camp as he touched the seal of the Seventh Prince.
Yuan Song, who was grappling with numerous imbalances in his royal house after the crown princess’s disappearance, was forced to don his warrior garments and leave the Crown Prince Palace.
After Xiao Ba’s disappearance, Yuan Song wanted to declare her dead. However, the people of Wei, both nobles and slaves, disliked the idea since her body had not been found.
The Yingge Hospital of the Yuwen Household performed a post-mortem on the body found at the crime scene and handed over the results to Wei’s Justice Council.
After a series of debates in Yuwen Huai’s justice council meeting with the Wei valve circle, Yingge Hospital issued a press release the next day.
It shocked everyone in Great Summer.
Princess Chun’er did not believe that Xiao Ba was dead either; she suspected she had been abducted. She thought it was an inside job and that someone from the Great Summer Palace was the perpetrator.
“I know you hate Xiao Ba, little brother. Did you do this to her?” Princess Chun’er asked curiously.
Yuan Song, surprised by his sister’s remark, replied, “Big sister, I thought we knew each other since birth. Even if I had ill feelings toward her, I would never do such a vile thing. I am noble by blood and at heart. Though I can choose to fight in the right or wrong way, only a savage beast would do such a thing, and I am not a savage. Remember my place—I am the Crown Prince of Wei, the Great Summer of this Empire.”
Princess Chun’er became serious as her curiosity shifted to concern for the empire, and she asked:
“If you were to put any of your close royal family members to death, how would you do it? Shen Jin Gong?”
“No,” Yuan Song replied, clearing his throat to ensure Princess Chun’er heard him clearly. “I would choose a silent lethal killing. Everything can be arranged in the wind for the sake of peace in the land.”
Princess Chun’er considered his answer very seriously and realized her brother was not the same man he used to be.
As Crown Prince Yuan Song prepared to depart from the Great Summer Palace, Yuwen Huai arrived with his men for the send-off ceremony.
Princess Chun’er stepped forward while Yuwen Huai bowed and greeted, “Your Highness, it is a pleasure to see you again.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Chun’er replied as she passed Yuwen Huai and placed Yuan Song’s damask cape on him.
“Little brother, please don’t be foolish, Prince,” Chun’er smiled and tapped his shoulder.
“And please don’t become a dull princess. Can I expect that Great Summer will still be Great Summer when I return?” Yuan Song gave his sister a slight hug and looked at Yuwen Huai.
Yuwen Huai handed a book to Yuan Song and said: “Your Highness, your protocol guide is within this book. If the Crown Prince follows it according to the laws and tradition, it will lead your mission to political success.”
“And who can I expect to guide me for military success?”
“I, Your Highness,” General Bali said, approaching to join the Seventh Prince’s envoy. The Duke of the Batuha family had never looked more fearsome or handsome, despite the gray showing in his hairline.
Yuan Song smiled and said, “I never expected you to still be this active in service, General.” General Bali bowed in front of the Crown Prince and waited for his command.
“General Bali, you will have much work to do and teach this novice military commander-in-chief,” Chun’er said.
“I have political and military counsel, but who will advise me on the economy?” Yuan Song joked.
Yuwen Huai laughed and said, “Your Highness, you will be taught along the way when you meet the Black Sun Pirate and the White Robinhood.”
After Yuwen Huai made everything legal and binding, Yuan Song’s royal envoy followed the necessary military protocols for the send-off ceremony. The separation and formation of troops were neatly arranged, and the military envoy of Yuan Che accepted the chain of command from Yuan Song as the new Commander-in-Chief of the Xiaoqi camp for an indefinite period.
The send-off ceremony lasted for a while but not long.
Before long, Yuan Song and the Great Summer of the Seventh Prince began to whip their horses, and dust rose from the grounds of the Great Summer Palace, where the Emperor sat watching from his outside throne seat.
“Your Majesty, do you have anything to say?” Tai Wei asked, sensing the Emperor’s gaze, as if he were looking at his most beloved son pitifully.
“No, I have nothing to say. I just realized that he is a grown man now, where he once played on the Great Summer Palace grounds as a child. Now, he is like a piece of meat ready to be devoured by the world. I hope I have prepared him more than the enemy can. I hope I have given him enough wisdom to win this battle.”
Tai Wei, turning the serious conversation into a lighter one, replied, “Indeed, Your Majesty, the Crown Prince has now reached his prime.”
The Emperor responded, “There is one thing I have not told him—that he is truly alone in this world. No one will come to rescue him but himself. Whoever sits on this throne is like an animal ready to be slaughtered.”
Sensing the Emperor’s fatherly emotions, Tai Wei asked, “Do you want me to stop the Scribes from writing this?”
“No, let it be written in the official log. I want my son to see the true face of the world,” said the Emperor as he stood and walked toward Chisui Lake.
Chun’er watched her father walk sadly.
They had not spoken since the day he pardoned her, but Chun’er didn’t want to force her father to talk to her. Instead, she said to herself, “I will wait patiently for the day you can call me your daughter again.”
The sound of mighty horse hooves echoed.
Dust and grass dew were carved into the ground as the horses’ footprints trailed behind them.
Two figures in military uniforms knelt in kowtow position. The deputy stood behind, ready to defend or attack. How could the Beauty Emperor refuse the civet cat’s request?
This morning, an urgent military communication was sent to Liang’s forces.
Xiao Ce had to read it within four hours, or a threat to the empire’s security would arise.
“Your Majesty, it is time,” said Chu Qiao of the Beauty Army.
“You finally came with those lovely winter boots,” Xiao Ce teased, wanting to buy more time. He knew Qiao Qiao’s request would break his heart.
Chu Qiao remained in her kowtow position and said, “Your Majesty, we have served you for long and followed all your commands. This event is not new to you, as we have been preparing for it. May the heavens respond to you with a thousand rainfalls, may your courtyards be blessed with beautiful days, and may your fields yield a bountiful harvest. In my deep respect and honor, please accept this humble gift.”
One of his servants took a beautiful silk fabric and revealed a birdcage full of amber phantom butterflies. Xiao Ce held his breath as he gazed at the butterflies and said, “The only butterfly that lives in deep rainforests, its crepuscular nature makes it invisible in sunlight. Should I be transparent so the world can see the other side?”
Xiao Ce knew this bittersweet moment was not far off. Though he had rehearsed many times how to react and mask his emotions, he always failed.
Speaking from his heart, this meant he would finally unveil the curtain of destiny and show the world how he cared for the Beauty Army and its Beauty General.
He intended to keep them in this Liang paradise—sunny rainforests under fading moonlight.
Aside from giving the Beauty Army a wonderful homeland, what could he offer to heal the Beauty General’s heart?
Chu Qiao did not respond. She let Xiao Ce decide whether to allow the Beauty Army to leave Liang’s borders and become independent.
Some of the Beauty Army’s men had already married Liang’s finest women. Chu Qiao gave them a choice—to settle with their families in Liang or take them on their journey to find their promised land and become free citizens. Some chose to stay, while others took their families along.
It was bittersweet and, at the same time, refreshing as these families and relatives bid their goodbyes.
“This is the first deployment. We will test the winds and seize the grand entrance to shock the enemy.
They know our location is nearly impassable, reachable only by wings.
Their paratroopers will surely ambush us to make the raid successful. I estimate 30 percent damage to these local warehouses, but Meng Feng, ensure the 360-degree auto crossbows are ready around our perimeter.”
The Seventh Prince’s cavalry employed the art of war called, “capture the prey by stealth and strategy, rather than speed and strength.”
Yuwen Yue offered brief advice on how the enemy operates and how to protect the freedom community from the ambush raid.
Yue Lui nodded, saying, “Master, you taught me to lie, conceal, and wait for the surprise attack.”
Yuwen Yue nodded in agreement, saying, “This is exactly our advantage, and you know how to handle it.”
“Master, why do you know him so well?” Meng Feng asked.
“Because I used to be his comrade-in-arms. I fought side by side with him in the past. He is highly skilled and almost impossible to kill. In battle, he fights with ease and grace, flawlessly executing Sun Tzu’s art of war,” Yuwen Yue replied in a cold voice.
“Master, if we can’t beat him, what do we do?” Yue Lui asked.
“You’ll see. By then, I’ll already be in the air,” Yuwen Yue said.
Meng Feng and Yue Lui nodded, silently preparing their weapons and setting traps in the freedom community.
The people were also advised to stay low underground and protect the children at all costs.
Flashbacks of the moment came to paint the picture of this fateful day.
Yuwen Yue was right—Xiaoqi’s paratroopers suddenly appeared in the skies, landing to inflict damage and spread fear.
The quietness of the hidden valley was deafening. No weapons or people were seen on the ground.
It looked as though General Xue had to accept that this was, indeed, a well-maintained ghost town!
General Xue said, “I’m afraid we’ve brought more military science than our enemies. It’ll be overkill. I can already smell victory.”
Yuan Che began arranging for a certain outcome.
Hidden from everyone’s eyes, Meng Feng silently counted, whispering, “Twenty-five percent.”
After five excruciating minutes, she whispered again: “Twenty-six percent.”
It was nearing the 30% expected damage, yet nobody appeared in the skies—not even a gust of wind.
Exhausting the 360-degree auto-crossbows, Meng Feng frequently glanced above as if she was waiting for the gods to intervene. As the auto-crossbows fell silent, Yue Lui prepared for a surprise attack, employing the lie-and-conceal tactics. Meng Feng felt a pang of regret—those white rabbit balloons had not yet appeared in the smoke-filled skies.
After the mechanical crossbows, it would be Yue Lui’s turn to fire. This was Yuwen Yue’s unbeatable strategy—his secret style of capturing the target—and Yue Lui had mastered the art.
It would require human effort to fight the elite troops.
You could say this was a little off-tangent because Yue Lui would be fighting the very empire he once served, using knowledge of its land to make the tall grass empire stand out.
Panting heavily, Yue Lui thought to himself: “I never imagined I’d fight the very empire that raised me and taught me the art of warfare.”
There were seven local warehouses above ground in the hidden valley, but what Yuan Che didn’t know was that three more were buried underground—ten in total.
Yuan Che thought it was no match and laughed at the auto-crossbows, finding them easy to dismantle.
“Whoever designed these cold defensive weapons is a true genius,” Yuan Che said sarcastically, smirking.
Then, he found something else and continued laughing before adding sarcastically, “This is child’s play. I expected something grand to happen here. The mouse has run away, abandoning its cheese!”
These were the terms Yuan Che and Yuwen Yue used whenever they went to war. They referred to each other as the cat and the mouse, like Tom and Jerry’s endless chase.
For Yuan Che, he was the cat, and Yuwen Yue was the mouse who always had the cheese. In military terms, the mouse controlled the logistics, and the cat decided whether to force the mouse to give up its cheese to supply its operations and rearm its weapons.
But now, the cat couldn’t figure out what the mouse was up to.
Meng Feng finally declared the figure she had been counting: “Thirty!” She pressed a button, and boom!
It was too late to react. The ground erupted in smoke-filled craters. Yuan Che and the Xiaoqi generals found themselves dizzy but managed to counteract by covering their mouths with state-of-the-art gas masks. Everyone was alert.
Yue Lui, meanwhile, made sure the elite troops were at ease before launching his earth-shattering offensive attack.
Dressed in an all-black ninja suit, riding a black horse, Yue Lui embodied the ghost shock warfare. He looked like a ghost, and soon the enemy would regret their arrogance.
Before anyone could react, their metal helmets, arm guards, breastplates, and leg armor were sucked away, along with several swords—except for Yuan Che’s sword.
Yuan Che found himself like a naked warrior, facing the ghost shock warrior.
He now realized this was definitely one of Yue’s guards. No one else in the Great Summer Empire could execute this attack so flawlessly.
The generals had never faced this strategy, even though they owned it.
They had never been on the receiving end—until now. Fear gripped them, as their half-naked bodies, stripped of weapons, were left defenseless after the ghost shock magnet had collected their armor in midair.
The armors were all attached to Yue Lui’s body and horse.
It was hard to comprehend.
The goal was to shock the enemy by exposing their own vulnerability and foolishness.
Their weapons had become useless, transferred to another body!
Yuan Che shouted, “Everyone, hold and stand still! Do not move. This wasn’t written in Sun Tzu’s Art of War. Generals, meet the Great Summer’s Eyes of God ghost shock warfare!”
The generals murmured among themselves:
“What?”
“This is the Eyes of God warfare?”
“A shock wave of what?”
“This is dumb.”
“It’s called ghost shock warfare!”
“It’s not written down, but this is our very own strategy.”
“What do we do now?”
“We’re screwed!”
Yue Lui, his eyes closed, breathed in and out as the armor attached to him and his horse grew heavier.
In minutes, all the armor would fall to the ground, and he would execute the final phase of this killing spree.
Yuan Che shouted, “To kill or not to kill. Everyone, prepare to taste our very own defeat.”
Ghost shock warfare, whenever deployed, had never failed. It always won any battle, regardless of the enemy, as long as they were made of flesh and blood and their weapons of metal.
The enemy was forced to accept defeat.
Weapons clattered to the ground, but Yuan Che’s pulse raced—he still couldn’t predict the outcome.
One of the generals didn’t heed Yuan Che’s warning and stepped forward to grab a sword from the ground. Yue Lui raised his hand, and the general was struck by a bolt of lightning, dropping dead on the spot.
Yuan Che, growing angrier—not at the aggressor, but at his generals—shouted, “Obey orders, or I’ll cut off your heads!”
Meng Feng, watching this unfold, couldn’t comprehend what kind of warfare this was. It was far more advanced than she had ever imagined, some sort of technology courtesy of the Eyes of God.
Yue Lui remained unmoved, waiting for his prey to act defensively.
The generals complained, “Your Highness, what’s happening? This wasn’t the outcome we planned!”
Yuan Che, knowing exactly how this worked, opened his mouth but hesitated before finally explaining:
“The ground you’re standing on—and everything around you—is deadly. There is swirling electricity, and every time you move defensively, the ghost shock warrior passes it through his body. When he activates it, it will electrify your body and cause your heart to explode.”
One of the generals shouted, “Then the ghost shock warrior will die too, since it passes through his body first!”
Yuan Che rolled his eyes impatiently and replied, “The Eyes of God trained this ghost shock warrior well. His body has been conditioned to withstand the electric shock waves, so he can handle the pain.”
The generals realized, “He must be in meditation—he’s in a hypnotic state.”
“Your Highness is right!”
“Do not move, or if he senses vibrations, his mind and body will endure the pain to kill the target.”
Yuan Che, caught off-guard, had to admit defeat. He was surprised by this turn of events.
A junior spy ran toward Yuan Che, stopped, and stared at the holes in the ground. Shocked, he said, “Your Highness, these local warehouses are empty. There’s nothing inside.”
Yuan Che, dismayed, whispered, “I’ve been tricked by the mouse.”
He looked toward the sky and shouted, “Where are you? Show yourself!”
The Xiaoqi troops couldn’t believe their eyes—Yuan Che was crying out in despair. They had never seen him surrender to the heavens like this before.
Suddenly, the white rabbit balloon appeared in the smoke-filled skies.
It was so huge it covered almost half of the freedom community’s perimeter.
The generals were in awe and asked themselves, “How did they hide this rabbit monster balloon?”
The white rabbit balloon displayed its archers, ready to kill anything that moved on the ground.
Another ship swayed the pirate flagship, while thick twine ropes dropped from all four corners.
“Oh, skulls and bones! The pirates!” exclaimed General Xue, while Yuan Che still stared at the sky.
To distract the Seventh Prince and the generals, Meng Feng shot an arrow into a nearby tree. Many eyes followed the trail.
One of the junior spies exclaimed, “The White Robinhood is below, and the Black Sun Pirate is above. Where do we run?”
Mo’Er climbed down from the monster rabbit balloon, along with three other pirates, to park the hot air rabbit balloon. Soon, every eye turned to the godlike figure sitting in the balloon, dressed in white Hanfu, calm and fresh, meeting their gazes.
One of the generals managed a joke, “Your Highness, you said it was a mouse—why am I seeing a monster rabbit in a godlike figure?”
Yuan Che, his eyes fixed on the figure, whispered, “The mouse sank in the frozen lake years ago and transformed into the rabbit you see today.”
Chapter 83
Rolling in the deep
As soon as this remark was made, Yuan Che felt indifferent. As long as Yuwen Yue dared to step into Wei territory, various government officials immediately sought to establish private connections with him.
This is exactly what happened.
Today, Yuan Che could not help but face the situation. It was uncommon for the Seventh Prince to see them staying put, unable to form a proper defense.
However, despite seeing his long-time ally and friend, Yuwen Yue, in front of him, Yuan Che could not anticipate a positive outcome.
Now, several military leaders, each with the courage and strength to make this mission work, shared one common opinion.
“The command has made this expedition effective, and I am convinced. While some people openly support it, others disagree.”
Yuwen Yue did not expect many promises of rewards today. To strongly oppose the Seventh Prince, everything depended on his skills.
Yuwen Yue could only offer a fair chance for a brief respite today, suggesting that they have dinner with the freedom community and enjoy a good meal.
Meanwhile, the prisoners would get a chance to talk to him, starting with the Seventh Prince, Yuan Che.
Yuan Che sighed in relief and pointed to the man lying in the infirmary.
“What about this general?” he asked.
Yuwen Yue gave him a cold look and said, “His blocked blood flow was treated in time when you surrendered and didn’t put much effort into fighting the ghost shock warrior. He will live, but he may be disabled for a few years until his damaged nerves heal.”
“I warned him and offered caution, but he did not listen,” Yuan Che replied.
Yuan Che then tried to open the table for negotiation and asked, “You don’t plan to keep us prisoners here, do you? Name a reward for each of these generals’ heads—and mine as well.”
Yuwen Yue smirked and said, “What I want is more than a reward. I want this freedom community to remain untouched. It doesn’t matter who suffers or dies. I will defend it until every empire recognizes the value of slaves—their right to choose to live their own lives decently or to voluntarily serve their masters, treated as human beings, and earn a fair wage.”
Yuan Che thought for a moment.
After hearing Yuwen Yue’s demands, Yuan Che considered the initial reactions of the military generals and their handling of the troops. He realized that dealing with the different mindsets and needs of these generals would be complicated.
These generals had earned the Emperor’s favor and couldn’t easily be removed from their posts. They had their own backgrounds, built on years of experience in winning wars, though their qualifications now weren’t what they once were.
Commanding this force seemed like an impossible task.
Suddenly, an idea flashed through Yuan Che’s mind.
This freedom community was a new concept, one that could ignite conflict within Great Summer’s slavery system and the aristocracy. It seemed impossible to reconcile.
Yuan Che thought it might be better to disrupt everything and push it back.
Carefully weighing the gains and losses, he raised his head, glanced at each of the generals sitting below the prison walls, smiled, and said, “You once wore the same uniform. What made you change, Master Ice Cube, Cold Heart?”
Yuwen Yue did not respond, but Yuan Che pressed further, asking, “Was it the lowly Yuwen maid who died many years ago?”
A cold breeze passed between them, but no words came.
Yuan Che could only look up at the vast sky of the hidden valley, like an innocent boy trying to grasp everything in his hands.
Yuwen Yue raised his eyebrows, sighed, drank his rice wine, and looked up at the twinkling stars.
It was just like old times.
“My way is to invest in idleness. It’s expected to lead to a fat shortage,” Yuwen Yue said, closing the conversation.
Yuan Che understood and replied, “So, you plan to stir up public security, investigate all crimes committed by the suspects, seize the spoils of Yanbei, detain the merchants’ goods, and seal their shops to prevent public distribution? And if they dare offend the slaves, the businessmen won’t be able to continue their business? This is commercial warfare! You’re not going to eliminate Wei’s troops before I return to Xiaoqi camp?”
The climate was getting colder. Before the winter solstice, Yanbei was still buried under thick snow.
Yan Xun had already arranged for the Yan troops to attack Yanmingguan Pass, while the Yanbei King was still waiting for Prince Yuan Yang’s decision to either join or reinforce the Yan troops.
There had been an ongoing argument between the King of Yanbei and the Wei Prince.
“Come, let’s have a drink!” Yan Xun said in surprise as he walked into Yuan Yang’s royal tent.
Yuan Yang greeted Yan Xun with bright eyes and took the jade goblet, saying, “What brought you to this cold ground at night? Thanks for the supplies you sent. It was more than enough to satisfy these hungry troops!”
Yuan Yang tossed the jade goblet with Yan Xun but threw it aside, looking back at him curiously.
Yan Xun laughed and said, “If you think the first pour was poisoned…”
He paused, then drank the wine, letting it go straight to his gut.
Then Yan Xun poured more wine into Yuan Yang’s jade goblet and said, “I told you, I never fail with my goods and provisions. I control the economy between this border and the vassal states of Huai Song and Liang.”
Yuan Yang drank the wine and asked for another pour. “I’ll have another drink to that.”
Large swathes of snow fell in the empty courtyard of Wu Dao Ya.
“These troops belong to the King of Mud and don’t support the Datong Way. But let’s look at the positive side. First, they’re all Wei’s valiant troops that Yan Xun can use to invade Chang’An. Second, we need eyewitnesses to make this a victory and help heal the wounds of Yan.”
The Prince of Datong Way did not request any special treatment for these brutal warriors, who were far from his expectations.
The Datong Way had been stretching its reserves ever since they were forced to give up half their provisions to support the Yan people and fund the Wei allies, including the silver-spoon Prince Yuan Yang. This sparked considerable negative sentiment.
Wu Dao Ya had to postpone several money transfers and logistical deliveries to Zao Baocung, which delayed provisions to the Moon Kingdom. One day, Wu Dao Ya received a report from Zhong Yu.
It silenced him. He looked at the young Huan Huan.
Huan Huan was sixteen years old, beautiful, intelligent, and full of life.
Aside from Yan Xun, she was the last Yan descendant who could potentially inherit the Yanbei throne if Yan Xun failed to produce an heir with his Queen. She was the daughter of Yan Xun’s uncle on her mother’s side, Bai Shicheng, but her uncle had been murdered by the Emperor many years ago.
It was said that Bai Shicheng, the only sister of the Great Summer Emperor, was given in political marriage to the Duke of Yanbei, Yan Shicheng, to seal their brotherhood as closely as possible.
Lou He had saved Huan Huan when she was a baby, rescuing her from the annihilation of her entire family. She had been raised in the custody of Wu Dao Ya, her identity kept secret.
The Eyes of God had searched for the baby for many years but failed, as she was raised by the Datong Way, becoming a central figure who inspired many elites to support the child.
Many believed that one day, Huan Huan would either save Yanbei or Yan Shizi, in what they called “The World.” What Datong didn’t know was that Yan Xun had discovered their existence accidentally after Feng Mian’s death, realizing that Datong was real and operating.
Wu Dao Ya also discovered who Lui Xi was but kept his silence, continuing to pretend its ignorance of the brave Prince of Yanbei, now King of Yanbei.
Yan Xun, however, continued to operate within Datong using the alias Lui Xi, working through A’Jing as his agent.
Lui Xi was the persona Yan Xun used to levy heavy taxes on the Yanbei people, particularly in the Hong Chuan plains and Beishou cities.
Lord Feng of the Datong Way was actually Feng Mian. Feng Mian had been a favorite name Yan Shizi used when he was growing up. Feng Mian arranged Yan Xun’s return to Yanbei, helping him recapture some of his dormant allies under the guise of Lui Xi.
Lui Xi had become a popular name within the Datong Way.
Feng Mian used this name frequently to conceal the identity of the Prince of Yanbei from the secret chamber of commerce.
Before Feng Mian died, Lui Xi murdered and burned down several elite Yan families, cutting off their businesses so they would have no choice but to join Yan Xun in rebuilding the Yan throne.
These families had been reluctant to sever ties with Datong and stubbornly continued operating the secret chamber of commerce known as Datong Way, which Yan Xun had initially refused to believe existed until Feng Mian’s death.
Many of these elite Yan families, who lived in Yanbei, perished at the hands of General Cheng Yuan, except for Mo’er of the Ouyang family, who escaped Yan Xun’s wrath with the help of Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao.
The only remaining Yan elite families were those who had fled to Liang and Huai Song.
Wu Dao Ya helped them escape after Zhong Yu warned them to leave Yan borders to save their lives.
Wu Dao Ya, like a slippery fish, was hard to catch in the vast ocean of Yanbei. When Yan Xun ordered A’Jing to contact him, he received no reply. Yan Xun knew Wu Dao Ya was very secretive by nature.
It was almost impossible to reach him, as the Longyi Guan Mountains were steep and made of limestone, good only for skilled rock climbers.
When Yan Xun grew weary of the chase, he decided to climb the steep rocks of Longyi Guan himself.
Meeting his father Yan Shicheng’s general counselor gave him some temporary peace of mind. Wu Dao Ya, hoping to enlighten the prince and dispel his suspicions about Datong Way, agreed to the meeting.
That day, Wu Dao Ya also hid Huan Huan, but she caught a glimpse of Yan Xun’s back. It was risky, but Zhong Yu was prepared to defend her.
At this moment, in a secret room adjacent to another dining area, a middle-aged man dressed in monkish attire, wearing earth tones, stared silently at the paper in his hand. After a moment, he brandished a dagger toward the next door.
A disguised servant pulled something from his sleeve and pressed a hidden switch. The secret room became dark.
“It’s been a long time, General. How’s the weather in Yanbei?” a voice spoke.
“Well, the snow never stops, the sun is barely visible, and shooting stars are often seen in the skies,” replied the man as he sipped his tea. “Did you bring the master list of accounts?”
Another man entered the secret room, lighting a small candle that barely illuminated the space. It was just bright enough for the Master to see the master list of accounts.
“This isn’t complete. Where’s the other half?” the Master asked.
“Master, I’m sorry. I failed to hand over the account to the real Liu Xi,” replied the disguised servant.
“Recite the order of events,” the Master commanded.
“The instructions were clear. The master list of accounts had to be given to Master Liu Xi. However, I was captured and sold as a slave on the black market. I met a lovely girl disguised as a man. She bought me, but she was very poor and often stole to keep some money in her pocket. She gave me gold coins that night, but we were ambushed by the traders’ men. She was injured, and we were both captured and sold as slaves again. A wealthy lord sought out this lovely girl in the black market and bought us at a high price. We were treated well on the ship’s cabin, where her injuries were tended to.”
He paused briefly before continuing.
“We sailed to Wupeng City, and when we landed at Peng Cheng port, the rich lord freed us. I asked the lovely girl who had arranged for our protection, but she said nothing. I trusted her deeply; she had excellent gongfu martial arts skills, so I gave her half of the master list of accounts. I knew the account would be useless without the other half. We parted ways in Wupeng City, and soon after, I was captured by Hou Tian’s men. I managed to escape and have been in disguise ever since.”
Liang Shaoqing’s voice faltered as he continued, his expression somber.
“The next day, I went to Master Liu Xi’s house, but local authorities were investigating the scene. The entire household had been massacred. People whispered that the suspect was a man of good stature and manners, apparently searching for the other half of the master list. I became terrified and fled to Xianyang. There, I met a relic trader who helped me, and I disguised myself as a servant. No longer the beautiful scholar I once was.”
Zhan Ziyu, the Master, pondered aloud, “It was the Afterlife Camp leader who saved her. How could he have changed from a killer to a savior?”
Questions lingered in the Master’s mind.
“You’ve blended in well,” said the Master after a long pause.
The Master continued, “I know what happened to the other half of the account.”
Liang Shaoqing’s eyes widened in surprise. “Did you find the lovely girl, Master?”
“What was her name?” the Master asked, his tone curious.
“Master, her name is Xiao Qiao,” said Liang Shaoqing proudly.
“That name is fake,” the Master responded coldly.
“But that’s what I called her,” Liang Shaoqing said sadly.
“She was chased by the Yanbei King’s General Cheng Yuan and his men. She dropped the half-master list during the chase. Cheng Yuan recovered it and began hunting down the real Liu Xi and his family. We learned this when Feather Girl witnessed it.”
Realizing the weight of his mistake, Liang Shaoqing asked, “Master, why didn’t you intervene?”
The Master sighed. “My orders didn’t include specifics like the killings, the black market trade, meeting this lovely girl, or splitting the account into two. I failed. But I’m glad you survived to meet me today.”
Wu Dao Ya, not one to demand perfection even from his most intelligent followers, accepted his share of the blame.
He lamented, “No one could have stopped it, not even the Chu Jing Secret Princess, because Xiao Long King—Yan Xun’s alias in the Datong Way—was determined to kill everyone involved. We couldn’t reveal ourselves. It was too dangerous.”
Zao Baocung, seeking clarification, asked, “Are you saying the real Liu Xi and his family are dead, and Xiao Long King used Liu Xi’s name to slaughter half the Yan noble families listed in the master list?”
“That is exactly what happened,” Wu Dao Ya confirmed, as if preparing to recount a long story.
“The real Liu Xi, whom I taught how to trade and trusted with Datong Way’s transactions, lived in Xianyang. Like many other Yan citizens, he lost his family and properties during the war. I met him, taught him business and trading, and eventually introduced Liang Shaoqing, a scholar who had fled Liang, to join us. Liang’s thirst for knowledge earned him a place in my private classes, where he studied alongside Liu Xi. When the time came for me to leave, I fast-tracked Liang’s training so he could tutor Liu Xi and help Datong Way thrive.”
Wu Dao Ya paused, then continued.
“Feng Mian, also known as Lord Feng Si, Yan Xun’s most trusted ally, discovered Liu Xi and brought Yan’s family treasures to be used as collateral for Datong Way. This inflated the Xianyang Chamber of Commerce, creating a bubble economy. Wei’s properties surged in value, making them unreachable for most buyers.”
As Wu Dao Ya recounted the story, Zao Baocung asked, “How come you didn’t intervene, General?”
“I knew you’d ask, but as I said, revealing our presence would have been too risky.”
The room fell silent as the two figures waited for Wu Dao Ya to respond. But suddenly, a cold wind blew through the secret room, the lights flickered back on, and they realized their host had left without a trace, taking the master list with him.
Zao Baocung and Liang Shaoqing looked at each other, left alone in the room.
Frustrated, Zao Baocung grabbed Liang Shaoqing by the throat and growled, “You knew more than you let on, yet you pretended to know nothing!”
“How could I speak? I’ll tell you everything the Master didn’t answer today if you just let go,” Liang Shaoqing gasped, his eyes pleading.
Zao Baocung released him, laughing. “You useless scholar!”
“I am the most trusted scholar of Wu Dao Ya, you mean,” Liang Shaoqing retorted, smiling as he straightened his servant robes.
Zao Baocung’s expression darkened. “Do the Wei nobles know these traders are from Yanbei, not Liang State?”
“Yes, the Wei nobles know. But by the time they realized it, their assets had already been sold at low prices, and they couldn’t report it to the Emperor,” Liang Shaoqing replied.
“So, the Datong Way traders bought Wei assets at incredibly low prices?” Zao Baocung asked.
“You guessed it. And whatever you guess is always right,” Liang Shaoqing replied, nodding like a child awaiting a scolding.
Annoyed, Zao Baocung smacked Liang Shaoqing on the head. “You smart, yet foolish scholar! Get out of my sight!”
Three weeks had passed since Yuan Che and his generals left, with no word from them. Not even the six spies sent to the hidden valley had returned.
Yuan Song sent two more spies, promising them a promotion and command of an army if they returned with news.
“This is a great motivation. If you return with information about that cursed hidden valley, you’ll be rewarded. Otherwise, don’t come back, or I’ll have your head!” Yuan Song threatened.
The two spies embarked on their dangerous mission, following the treacherous path ahead.
A group of troops arrived with a report.
“Your Highness, our food reserves are running low, and the black markets are slow in restocking our supplies. Should we raid them?”
“Raid them by force?” Yuan Song chuckled. “Are we so desperate that we’ll raid our own black markets?”
Before he could respond, another troop arrived, violently dragging a young prisoner.
“Your Highness, it’s time for you to check out this rabbit we caught running around Xiaoqi camp,” said General Bali.
Yuan Song approached the prisoner and saw the young face, soft skin, and brown, slanted eyes. He reacted quickly.
“This isn’t a rabbit, General. It’s bait!”
As soon as Yuan Song said the word “bait,” he unsheathed his Cheng Yin sword.
A million fire arrows filled the sky, setting Xiaoqi Camp One ablaze.
His guards rushed him away, escorting him to Xiaoqi Camp Seven.
General Bali took the young spy and ordered his guards to throw him into the dungeon, while everyone else dispersed.
The crown prince watched the troops running in panic. His lips moved as if to speak, but all he could manage was a quiet, uncertain question: “General Bali, did you send someone to guard Xiaoqi Camp Two?”
General Bali nodded, his gaze shifting to the desperate soldiers fleeing the burning camp. His eyes were filled with complex emotions.
At dusk, the 13th Crown Prince stood on the hilltop of Xiaoqi Camp Seven, watching as Camp One continued to burn.
No casualties had been reported, but many properties and military supplies were reduced to ash. It remained unclear who the enemy behind the attack was.
Lowering his telescope, a voice whispered in his ear: “Camp One is on fire! What do you plan for Camp Two?”
He Xiao turned his head, his gaze following a striking figure not far away—a beautiful general dressed in shining armor, her braided hair cascading down her back.
In front of them were two brawny young men, dirty and disheveled, armed with swords and sticks. They looked more like troublemakers than serious threats.
“Hey, what about these two beefy, cunning hares?” Chu Qiao asked, prompting He Xiao to decide their fate.
“We’ve already captured six of their spies. These two are just extra. How about a trade—our one spy in exchange for their six?” He Xiao suggested, teasing Chu Qiao’s thoughts.
“And let Yuan Song know that all his spies are incompetent? Trading six of theirs for one of ours? That would be a huge slap in his face, wouldn’t you say?” Chu Qiao smirked at He Xiao.
“Why not?” He Xiao agreed, ordering Ge Qi to lock the two men in the iron cage for interrogation.
Chu Qiao added, “Find out if these young men were promised the world by foolish princes. And I doubt they’d kill our spy so easily—he’s too valuable to them.” She winked confidently.
“All we want are clear paths, yet we’re capturing spies every day. Isn’t it exhausting for the 13th Prince to keep sending spies? Someone should stop him, or I won’t hesitate to put them in Xuili uniforms and train them to do their job properly.”
Chu Qiao smiled at He Xiao and asked, “Are you complaining, General?”
“No,” He Xiao replied dryly. “As long as you treat these captured spies the Xuili way, I have no complaints.”
“Interrogate them first, get the information. Our methods are reasonable, and we always advocate for life. As long as no one’s in danger, you can even let them roam free if you like, Commander,” He Xiao said, spreading his arms wide as if to embrace the captured spies, waiting for Chu Qiao’s response.
“Or I could be their teacher,” Chu Qiao mused.
“That’s not far off in the future,” He Xiao encouraged her.
Early the next morning, soldiers worked busily under the dike, transporting sand, building walls, and digging trenches. A’Jing felt a sense of impatience. The strategic pass near Beibei City, close to Yanmingguan Mountain, was extremely important. The smooth flow of the river made it an ideal spot for the troops to land and hide their weapons.
If Beibei was held, Xiaoqi Camp in the east would have to worry about the safety of its rear. Beibei had been defended by 20,000 troops led by General Cao Meng Tong. His deputy generals, Yin Liangyu and Xiao Feng, were veterans from the Tang army and were under the command of the Queen of Yanbei, Xiao Yu. All three were seasoned warriors who had no interest in tarnishing their military records.
When A’Jing arrived at the village, he not only saw disguised Yan Xun spies but also noted the impracticality of the walls.
“If someone falls into this position and leaves a lot of bodies behind, only then will I have done enough,” A’Jing whispered to himself.
Chu Qiao had warned Yuan Song, knowing full well Yan Xun’s cold and ruthless nature. She said again, “If Yuan Song were wise, he would have reinforced Xiaoqi Camp Two. But it seems he’s unaware that Yan Xun’s troops could strike at any moment. Yuan Song seems more focused on sharpening his blades, tightening his bowstrings, and preparing a few spearheads. This is your fault, Deputy.”
He Xiao grinned, wanting to clarify something. “General Chu, whose side are you on? Xiaoqi Camp or Beibei? You set Xiaoqi Camp One on fire to warn Yuan Song, but that fire also gave Beibei Camp a better view for an open attack.”
“Deputy, I’m not taking sides. I just want a clear path for our troops without leaving destruction in our wake,” Chu Qiao responded dryly. Then, with a curious glance at He Xiao, she added, “If you hadn’t captured Xiaoqi’s spies, Yuan Song would’ve been informed.”
“We had no choice. If the spies had escaped, they would have revealed our location. We want to remain invisible. Unfortunately, these roads we travel are open to both mighty empires. We can’t avoid the conflict,” He Xiao said, his voice rising in frustration.
Chu Qiao replied calmly, “We know these roads well. We’ve traveled them long before Xuili’s timeline. We’ve come from both camps, and we can’t get caught up in their game. That’s our advantage. I’ll leave the rest to you. I’m going to take a nap.”
Chu Qiao yawned, and He Xiao gave her a clumsy look before she walked away.
Meanwhile, the Xiaoqi Commander in Chief was in a sarcastic mood as he addressed his troops.
“Eight spies, and not one of them was competent! This camp is full of useless soldiers! Now, who can tell me where this spy is from?”
The guards dragged a handcuffed spy forward, his head lowered. He looked as though he had never endured the hardships of a dungeon.
The soldiers began to murmur.
“He’s a spy from the other side. How bold of him to come here and look untouched, even after being locked up. Maybe he’s from some alien army.”
Another soldier scoffed, “Have you heard of the Underworld spies? You’re losing your mind again!”
One of the soldiers smacked the other on the head.
Yuan Song could hear the chatter but ignored it until one soldier boldly spoke up.
“He’s not a spy. He’s just a boy who went to fetch water from the stream.”
“Are you saying he was mistaken for a spy?” Yuan Song asked, rolling his eyes in frustration.
General Bali wanted to speak but hesitated. He, too, had doubts about the boy being a real spy.
In the end, he simply said, “He looks innocent.”
“He looks like bait,” Yuan Song remarked with a smirk, studying the young man. Then, his expression turned serious, and he ordered the guards, “Release him and give him a Xiaoqi military uniform. He’ll be my personal bodyguard.”
Everyone was shocked at Yuan Song’s decision. The deputy general barked orders to the stunned guards, “You heard the Commander in Chief! Move, you fools!”
Ping’An, still in disguise, had somehow managed to land himself in this position once again, though he wasn’t entirely sure how. His face showed bewilderment, unaware of the full extent of what was happening with the Great Summer Crown Prince. Yuan Song, however, stared at him impatiently, as if expecting more.
Meanwhile, Cao Meng Tong smiled and said, “The soldiers have served Yanbei for life. More than conquerors, they have defended the frontiers and rolled their swords to protect Yanmingguan Pass, which remains an unconquered territory.
Tonight, the dancers will treat them well. Their natural skills and graceful movements will ease the troops’ minds. We need beauty to relax them as they prepare their horses and sharpen their swords for dawn.”
A’Jing, trying to stay calm, replied, “Hey, relax. I’m not here to be a killjoy!”
Cao Meng Tong, eager to annoy him, retorted, “Do you want to come and sing and dance for my troops?”
He laughed loudly, clearly drunk, while A’Jing smirked and shot back, “Ah, shut up! I’m not a pervert like you!”
A’Jing walked out, leaving Cao Meng Tong behind.
“Hey, come back here! You wrinkled, fat-ass general!” Cao Meng Tong slurred, his tongue no longer under his control. Too drunk to stand, he collapsed on the ground, and his horse approached, licking his face.
He lay there, sleeping on the bare ground, an exposed general stripped of honor or pride.
Two striking figures stood under the snowy moonlight, talking quietly. Nearby, owls hooted, setting the mood. The eerie call of a night owl echoed through the haunted forest.
“I don’t recommend attacking at dawn. Look at the sky—there isn’t a single star,” said Yuan Yang.
Yan Xun squinted at the night sky, his eyes sad and distant. After a moment, he turned back to Yuan Yang, who looked particularly handsome in his battle gear and military uniform.
“Let’s talk about loyalty,” Yan Xun said, his gaze fixed on Yuan Yang.
“Oh, you don’t have to throw that word around. Loyalty makes you sacrifice everything—for what? What are you aiming for?” Yuan Yang, not wanting to have this conversation, sighed. But it was clear Yan Xun was eager to dig into the subject.
“The best example is the Xuili Army,” Yan Xun continued, his voice tight with frustration. He clasped his palms together as if suppressing the urge to punch something.
“Ah, that undying loyalty to General Chu Qiao is unshakable. Who could forget the day you trapped them to die, only for Chu Qiao to save them, allowing them to survive to this day?” Yuan Yang teased, his sharp tongue betraying his frustration.
“It’s important for me to understand how those sergeants in the Xuili troops, who are only seeking profit, end up losing their loyalty to their army. How do their generals deal with them? I need to know if I can infiltrate their ranks with money, proving that loyalty can be bought.” Yan Xun spoke without pausing, his words sharp and calculated.
Yuan Yang, sensing an opportunity, replied, “If I were the Xuili General, I would strengthen their commitment to the cause, making sure no sergeant could be easily swayed by money. Want me to continue?”
He glanced at Yan Xun, playing along with his “role-play” moment.
Yan Xun, amused, laughed and asked, “What do you know about loyalty in a sergeant’s heart?”
“Loyalty is nothing more than a guarantee that an old man can return to his hometown, eat, and drink without worry. If you can buy that freedom of thought, you can strip the Xuili Army of their loyalty to their generals.”
“Ah, that’s too simple!” Yan Xun smirked and shook his head, amused by the notion.
“Most soldiers would absolutely follow such generous treatment. That’s exactly how Chu Qiao secured their loyalty. She did it for you, but what did you do? Betray them again? That’s what I heard! I couldn’t believe it was really you. I even strangled the scout ranger who reported it.”
Yuan Yang’s voice dripped with sarcasm, his playful tone cutting deep.
Yan Xun, feeling the sting of the insult, recalled painful memories. His eyes darkened, and his lips tightened as he explained.
“Wealth and labor, when combined, breed greed and discontent. But wealth can also offer hope, giving families a better life and easing the burdens of old age.”
Yan Xun didn’t want to acknowledge the good Chu Qiao had done in the name of loyalty, but in his eyes, her defiance was a betrayal. For him, it would have been better if Chu Qiao had simply obeyed his orders.
Now, revenge was all that mattered. He no longer cared who stood in his way—not even Chu Qiao.
Yuan Yang, sensing the darkness in his friend, sighed. His voice grew colder as he replied, “It’s hard to expect people to resist temptation entirely. But if wealth is the only key to loyalty, the military will lose its focus, and the other side will struggle to build an indestructible army.”
The two men stood, staring at each other, their expressions troubled.
Yan Xun, unable to drop the subject, continued. “I think there are two types of military men. One, those who see the military as a way to make a living. And two, those who see it as a shortcut to riches. You can’t judge them for relying on their courage to achieve prosperity. If their families have enough money, they won’t worry.”
Yuan Yang interjected, “The Xuili Army earned their loyalty in their darkest moments. Whether in times of scarcity or abundance, they fought side by side and swore their lives to the cause. That’s a deep bond that money can’t break. No soldier will betray or sell their comrades twice. That’s Chu Qiao’s core principle of loyalty.”
Yan Xun, realizing his plans to bribe the Xuili Army might be futile, shrugged. “So what should be done, then?”
Yuan Yang, curious about his intentions, asked, “What are you up to with all this? Are you really planning to infiltrate those freelancers, or are you just trying to isolate their General Chu Qiao?”
Yan Xun, his tone mocking, replied, “Even if they’ve turned their backs on Yanbei, their past can’t be undone. Their loyalty was once tied to me, and I believe some of them can still be swayed to return. Like you said, loyalty is nothing more than an old man wanting to return home and live in peace. Isn’t it obvious?”
“And what about their general?” Yuan Yang asked, leaning forward to catch Yan Xun’s reaction.
Yan Xun’s eyes grew dreamy as he replied, “As for their general, once the army abandons her, I’ll welcome her back—on one condition.”
Yuan Yang, blinking in disbelief, resisted the urge to laugh. The night was cold, and the owl’s haunting tune filled the air.
“You need to get some sleep, Yan Shizi,” Yuan Yang said, shaking his head.
“Hey, you didn’t ask me what the condition is!” Yan Xun called out, still talking to the night.
But Yuan Yang was already walking away, grunting to himself, “I can’t believe this. It’s all about the girl! This is a messed-up army. A messed-up coalition!”
“Ha…ha…ha…” Yan Xun’s laughter echoed into the night, just like when they were young, leaving unresolved matters hanging in the air for the wind to carry away.
Every move of the Xuili army was spied upon in Liang. As expected, Xiao Yu provided Yan Xun with intel about some of their movements, including those of General Chu Qiao.
Xiao Ce served as a warm blanket for them for a while, flawlessly executing the charade as the “Beauty Emperor,” spreading false news that the fugitive Xuili army was being buried underground in Tang Jing Mountain’s concentration camps.
In reality, the fugitive Xuili army emerged stronger than ever.
To cleanse his empire while the Xuili army marched outside the walls of Liang, the eunuchs called for a special council meeting. Xiao Ce ordered Sun Di, “You handle the dirty work. I’ll watch the production and wait for the main event.”
On that day, Sun Di identified all the ministers who opposed the plan, and they were killed by their own hands—each poisoned by their jade goblets at the banquet of the Beauty Emperor. It became a death sentence for all who drank from them.
The arrangements were made. Two separate cavalries went their own ways, followed by thousands of troops. Two valiant commanders shouted across the battlefield.
“Take nothing for granted! Show no mercy!”
Yan Xun raised his voice.
“Chu Qiao, you are a brilliant military general, but so stubborn. If you hadn’t attacked Xiaoqi Camp, would you still dare to challenge Yanmingguan Pass?”
Reaching for the sword at his side, Yan Xun ordered his flag bearers to raise the proud Black Hawk cavalry flags.
With every heartbeat, the sound of the marching troops and the thunder of horse hooves echoed, spreading fear. The air was thick with the scent of war—everyone ready to devour and plunder.
No one could stand in their way.
The paths were straight, and the troop formations precise, as if none of them could make a mistake. The sound of drums echoed, warning the other side to surrender or face defeat.
The archers had already marked their targets. Who could stop them now?
It was foolish not to anticipate this, but Chu Qiao knew the encounter was inevitable, and it would be overwhelming. She devised a battle plan titledOutnumbered.
Chu Qiao called for He Xiao and said, “We may be outnumbered, but we are smart.”
He Xiao wasn’t worried. He nodded and replied, “We can’t avoid this fight! I know you’ll handle it. Don’t aim for nothing—stand and deliver, General!”
He Xiao doubled Chu Qiao’s courage and strength as he began to shout commands.
“Adults! Put down your armor and swords!
Archers! Stand aside!
Spearmen! Plant your spears on the ground!”
The opposing side was shocked. This was not what they expected, and they underestimated the situation.
“This combat formation isn’t even worth the scratch of my sword or the King’s attention,” Yan Xun laughed.
“The General who was once at my side is genuinely smart, but stubborn. She won’t give up easily!”
Yan Xun remained composed on the outside, but inside, he struggled to predict his next moves. The truth was, his plans often seemed to fade away whenever he saw Chu Qiao’s face—it was as if he wanted to melt away completely.
Chu Qiao winked at He Xiao and said, “Thanks for the encouragement, Deputy!” She tapped the side of her horse and called out, “Hi Yah!”
No matter how loud the drums rolled, there was a heartbeat louder than any drumbeat.
Yan Xun couldn’t contain himself. He wanted to wrap up the war, declare independence, and return home with A’Chu. General Cao Meng Tong saw the softness in Yan Xun’s eyes and, wanting to warn the Yanbei King, said, “Your Highness, we are dressed in battle gear—you are not heading to a reunion.”
A’Jing, blinking nervously as he saw Chu Qiao charging toward Yan Xun, asked, “My Lord, your orders? General Chu has crossed the critical line, and the archers are waiting for your command.”
A’Jing trembled, his hands shaking more than Yan Xun’s.
But Yan Xun, like a stone, couldn’t move. He just stared at A’Chu, waiting for the moment of their face-to-face encounter.
Chu Qiao, riding her prime horse, sprinted forward, defying the thousands of troops. The archers froze, and the military stars of Yan fell silent in their ranks.
The Black Hawk cavalry flags waved proudly in the skies, blocking the sun.
Chu Qiao pulled back on her horse’s reins, slowing the panting animal as her heartbeat raced through her veins.
Yan Xun took a deep breath, his body frozen in place.
Chu Qiao stopped three steps away from Yan Xun’s mighty horse and unsheathed her sword, pointing it straight at his neck.
Yan Xun, anxious, raised his hand to halt the Yan army. A’Jing, unsure of what to do, eventually followed suit.
All weapons were lowered, the archers left confused and motionless.
Yan Xun’s beautiful eyes took in the sight of A’Chu. He swallowed hard and, clearing his throat, finally voiced the questions he had buried for so long.
“Is this real? Are you the real Chu Qiao?”
Yan Xun looked at her with a light heart, remembering the goodness within himself.
There were many words he wanted to say, but his voice became voiceless.
He stood tall and mighty, but his innocent-looking eyes betrayed him, revealing his vulnerability to his generals and armies.
There were unkind smirks and cynical whispers passing between the ranks.
Time rewound to his childhood, to the first time he met young Chu Qiao during the bloody royal hunt of maids.
In his heart, he secretly rejoiced, knowing that this was the same Chu Qiao now.
The helpless but fearless child had grown into a strong, beautiful woman.
It was Chu Qiao’s turn to speak.
Yan Xun hoped to hear many words from her, but there were none. Only the cold air in the vast snowfield separated them, with nothing to warm their hearts.
Chu Qiao threw the King of Yanbei a mocking look, pointing her Canhong sword at him.
The King of Yanbei was deliberately mocked in front of his thousand-foot soldiers, in front of his mighty generals, in front of the cold snowfield.
He should have attacked, captured her, and seized the moment.
But surprisingly, he couldn’t retaliate or fight back against the Tiger General.
He simply let her walk away, unharmed.
He allowed her to silence the entire Yan army. The drumbeats faded.
Chu Qiao turned her horse around, slowly marching away from Yan Xun.
Yan Xun, still in shock, finally grasped the reality of the moment. He dismounted his horse.
The handsome King, as if hypnotized, followed the Tiger General alone and unmanned.
Suddenly, Chu Qiao shouted, and Yan Xun, startled, raised his eyebrows as he heard her words.
“Next time, don’t come to the battlefield if you aren’t ready to shoot me. Don’t come to the battlefield if you aren’t ready to kill me!”
Yan Xun finally understood. He smiled slowly and stopped in his tracks.
In the middle of the vast snowfield, under the slow-falling snow, he stood alone, handsome and hauntingly cold.
He watched Chu Qiao’s back, a free spirit, as memories passed before his eyes. The love in his heart for the Tiger General had never waned.
Yan Xun admitted to himself that, after all these years, A’Chu was the only person who could destroy him, disarm his thousand-foot soldiers, and bring about his eternal downfall.
It was hard to be her enemy, Yan Xun secretly thought.
He changed his vision from bloody conquest to victory. He no longer sought to kill the forsaken Xuili troops but instead win them over. The shift in his decision, made in the middle of the battlefield, was fast, though it was one of the hardest tasks that required agreement from the Yan generals.
The forsaken Xuili troops shone as brightly as the Yan military stars that day.
The battlefield was filled with shouts of victory as they welcomed their Tiger General back, alive and breathing.
On the high morale of the other side, He Xiao, with a flirty smile, greeted Chu Qiao.
“Holy Cow, General! Just one look at you, and you killed all their hearts today. Well done!”
Chu Qiao dismounted her horse, winked at He Xiao, and said, “Day one is over. This is not a drill. We have to keep grinding!”
When a prince is determined to capture absolute power, it doesn’t matter who wins or loses. What matters is the end of the journey. Can he catch the fire of his own ambition and turn it into glory?
The black smoke from the burning bodies of dead soldiers in Xiaoqi Camp never stopped rising. The air was filled with the terrible stench of scorched flesh.
Soldiers who were seriously wounded lay in muddy, dirty barracks.
In the absence of General Xue, the casualties among his troops were heavy, and more soldiers were pulled from Xiaoqi Camps Two and Three.
General Xue’s deputy, increasingly nervous, had no time to properly care for the wounded. He could only provide them water every other day and send the dead to the crematorium.
The warfare between the seven Xiaoqi camps raged on. Yanmingguan Pass, occupied by Xiaoqi Camp Two, was small, only ten miles long. However, its walls were tall and thick.
There was a deep moat, and animals roamed the flatlands around it.
The nonstop siege, lasting three days, had resulted in heavy casualties. Prince Yuan Yang cared little for heroism, benevolence, or morality.
With the absence of the Seventh Prince Yuan Che, Yuan Song tasted his brother’s fury and hunger for power and was unable to fight back.
Xiaoqi soldiers died inside and outside Camps Two and Three.
Piles of bodies were left unburied as Yuan Song, despite seeing them several times, refused to follow the usual burial protocols.
Outside Yanmingguan Pass, the corpses were everywhere. Even though it was mid-winter, the bodies had already begun to rot after just one day, filling the air with a terrible stench.
After the third day of the siege, Xiaoqi soldiers covered their mouths with wet cloths as they pushed carts carrying ladders, dreading the sight and smell of the dead bodies.
As they passed, many of them silently cursed the heavens, wondering why the gods had allowed these men to fight such a useless battle.
Yuan Yang’s army faced a similar situation. Each day, more than a thousand soldiers died or were wounded.
More soldiers were killed by stone bombs and arrows as they scaled the walls of Xiaoqi Camps Two and Three than during close combat.
Despite defending his troops well, Prince Yuan Yang noticed General Bali, who was commanded by Prince Yuan Song.
Whenever Bali’s banner was spotted, the soldiers would immediately retreat to their positions along the battlements.
In Xiaoqi Camp Two, there were incidents of Yuan Yang’s troops crushing their own soldiers, putting their uniforms to shame.
Yuan Song, after seeing the stone bombs fly, had no choice but to evacuate to the highest hilltop of Xiaoqi Camp Seven.
General Bali urged his soldiers to return fire with stone bombs and arrows to defend the camp walls.
By the time a team of 500 soldiers descended to fight, the damage had been done.
The damage was recorded by the scribes, and a loud voice shouted across the battlefield.
“Hold your positions! If we fail, these beasts will break through and kill us all—our sisters, brothers, and parents. They will put shame upon our name!”
General Bali saw many Xiaoqi soldiers ready to give up.
He threatened them constantly, appearing at the most critical moments of battle.
The Black General literally pulled arrows and aimed them at soldiers who could no longer fire.
Even Yuan Song, under siege in Xiaoqi Camp Seven, knew that many soldiers, including Yan’s forces, helped sweep through the two large Xiaoqi camps.
The loss was incalculable.
The eagle soared above the skies, finally breaking the day into twilight.
Morale was low among the defenders of Xiaoqi Camp after Yuan Song ordered General Bali to raise all shields and swords on the fifth day of the siege.
Some nearby small cities and blacksmith villages around Yanmingguan Pass were swept by Yan Xun’s blade.
However, Chu Qiao anticipated Yan Xun’s strategic movements. She deployed fire archers and stone bombs around the perimeters, creating a circle of protection.
Yan Xun knew exactly who was aiding these helpless small cities and villagers, yet he left the rest in ruins. Children, now orphans, were spared, but they had become the victims of war.
When the villagers asked the identity of their protector, the Xuili soldiers simply replied, “We are neither on your side nor theirs, but we are here to stop the war at all costs and save the children.”
The Xuili army spread strategically throughout Yanmingguan Pass, frustrating Yan Xun’s attempts to penetrate Chang’An, the capital of the Great Summer Dynasty.
All of Yan Xun’s movements were carefully coordinated by Chu Qiao’s secret spies stationed throughout Yanmingguan Pass.
One could say this was an example of street-smart, strategic espionage. Yan Xun couldn’t deny that the style resembled Yuwen Yue’s methods. It would exhaust Yanbei’s forces without gaining anything.
Upon receiving reports of Yanbei’s troops being blown apart by stone bombs at the southern gate, and hearing that a mob of mad archers had ambushed his troops, Yan Xun could only shake his head in frustration.
The Xuili archers, with their improved arm guards, could stretch their bows to shoot impossibly long distances. With rapid precision, they released double and triple flaming arrows.
The flaming arrows ignited fire lines around the small cities, creating a towering firewall that sent black smoke high into the sky.
Anyone—horse or warrior—who dared to cross the fire line was burned before they could make it through.
With the Xuili archers hidden, the enemy had little chance of locating them.
This offensive warfare was dedicated to protecting both Xuili and the people within the cities. The enemy troops appeared trapped inside a deadly ring. Xuili’s silent and cold tactics, coupled with strategic moves, inflicted heavy damage on the frontline forces.
Fear and uncertainty gripped the troops, who began to retreat, and a report was sent to the Yanbei King.
Meanwhile, a calm, handsome prince rode on horseback, leading a cavalry as they approached the secret tunnels of Xiaoqi camp’s fortress.
“We’re close to capturing the fortress. I’ll crush your face into the ground, little brother,” the 13th Prince of Great Summer, Yuan Song, whispered to himself, tightening his grip on his Cheng Yin sword.
He could hear the thunder of hooves approaching and knew what was coming next. No matter what, he wouldn’t surrender Xiaoqi camp.
Ping’An, holding a fire torch, saw something in the water and moved in front of Yuan Song to pick up an object. He knew someone was nearby and had intentionally dropped the object, clearly visible in the knee-deep tunnel water.
Suddenly, two arrows whizzed from opposite directions, targeting two different figures at once.
Bang!
A human body fell into the water, an arrow lodged in its shoulder, blood gushing out.
Another figure stood in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Bang!
A horse was shot dead on the spot, causing Yuan Yang to lose his balance and grip on his bow.
His men rushed to rescue him while his prime warhorse lay dead.
Chu Qiao, not dressed in military gear, stepped into view. She wore a flowing white princess-cut dress and a white veil covering her head, with an indigo scarf masking her soft, glowing face.
Dressed like a ghostly princess, her fearsome shadow loomed in the distance.
It seemed as though she was waiting for someone.
Yuan Song lay in the water as Ping’An pressed on his shoulders to stem the flow of blood. The wound was deep, and the prince needed to be evacuated immediately to avoid dying from blood loss.
Yuan Song tried to speak to Ping’An but couldn’t. He coughed up blood, his nose also bleeding—a very bad sign.
Yuan Yang, witnessing the scene, hadn’t expected such a turn of events. He had aimed for the boy, but his younger brother had saved him.
Confused, Yuan Yang inspected the arrow that had killed his horse and exclaimed, “This belongs to the underworld spy! I saw her in a white dress! Lou He is alive! Find her and capture her! She must pay for this!”
The sounds of swords clashing filled the secret tunnel as General Bali attacked Yuan Yang and his elite cavalry.
Soon, bodies were strewn in the tunnel, their blood turning the water red.
Yuan Song gazed up at the sky before his vision faded. Ping’An, desperate, rushed him out of the tunnel on horseback.
Outside, they encountered tall warhorses and imposing men of calm appearance. The Great Summer’s Crown Prince, nearly dead, met these figures blocking their path.
Ping’An had few choices but to defend the Crown Prince, now dying, in front of the regal figures who stood in their way.
The sun disappeared behind thick clouds, and snow began to fall. The future of Great Summer now rested in the hands of a small boy.
Chapter 84
Are we born enemies
The snowflakes fell into delicate hands as the cold wind whistled.
With her thick fur and white winter boots, a quiver full of white arrows, similar to Yan Xun’s, hung behind her. She scooped a handful of snow and rubbed it in her soft palms. She needed the coldness of snow to steady her pulse.
A passing reindeer powerfully leaped into her sight. Her beautiful eyes followed its every movement, her breath steadying her pulse.
The bowstring brushed her cheek, but it made no sound as the arrow was ready to fly.
Silently counting, one, two, and on three, the white arrow whizzed through the air just as the reindeer made its final leap.
“Bullseye! You’re mine!”
Huan Huan, pleased with the result of her hunt, approached the reindeer. It was still breathing, though shallow and labored. Expressionless and cold, Huan Huan pushed the arrow in deeper, and the last of the animal’s life returned to nature. Yet, another pair of eyes watched her from a distance, impressed and proud.
“Mr. Wu? Mr. Wu? Are you there? Spare me a moment! Come see my hunt!”
Huan Huan suddenly dropped the animal, her curious eyes scanning the surroundings as she continued to call her guardian’s name. “Mr. Wu? Mr. Wu?”
Her almond-shaped eyes widened when she saw a trail of blood on the ground. She walked slowly, following it, and discovered more blood spilled inside Wu Dao Ya’s room. But the man was nowhere to be found. Goosebumps rose on her skin as her pulse quickened.
She started to hyperventilate, convinced something terrible had happened to Mr. Wu, but unable to imagine what.
She didn’t know of any enemies or unexpected visitors except for a handsome man who had visited him many years ago. She could still vividly remember that day, the man’s back cold and distant.
An unarmed man was now running, panting, toward the bamboo forest. A group of ninja assassins chased him, throwing several star-shaped darts.
One dart hit his leg, freezing his veins, while he held his wounded chest. It was a surprise attack—years of planning and spying on the Longyi Guan mountains led to this moment, sealing his fate.
“Whatever happens, I must reach the Feather Girl, or she will die.”
Through excruciating pain, the man removed the dart as his vision began to blur.
By then, Wu Dao Ya realized who the enemy was. His wound had turned blue—a sign of poison. He had to reach the Feather Girl or end his life now.
Which would he choose?
All he had left was this breath, and everything would be meaningless if Zhong Yu died.
He continued down the bamboo hills, running toward the lime rock mountain he had to climb.
Huan Huan grabbed her fur coat, preparing to go outside.
Her feet trembled, her face anxious. She felt alone, yet not entirely—silent eyes watched her every move.
A call for help seemed necessary, but the observer couldn’t reveal himself. He must follow his master’s orders.
“You can only use this flare if it’s a life-or-death situation. Otherwise, avoid being caught and come out clean.”
Meanwhile, Princess Huan Huan decided to leave Mr. Wu’s residence. Before taking the final step, she glanced back at the door.
A gloomy expression crossed her face as childhood memories flashed before her, weighing her heart with sadness.
She didn’t know what lay ahead if she left, nor was she sure if Mr. Wu would return. Only two things were certain: she had to stand up and grow. It was time to leave her comfort zone and find Mr. Wu.
It was time to go, no turning back.
With her state-of-the-art bow and a quiver of sharp white arrows, Huan Huan, taller than most girls her age, walked away in her fur boots, as though she might never return to the place she once called home.
A day had passed when a man, covered in wounds, wearing tattered clothes, and with a dirty face and weary eyes, reached the edge of the cliff.
There was no hope left. A call for help would be futile—there was no one to aid him. He had sworn to protect the Feather Girl and Princess Huan Huan.
But now, he could hardly take a few steps, limping in pain.
The group of chasing ninjas finally caught up, forming a line, ready for the kill.
Wu Dao Ya thought, “Looks like I’m in the middle of an execution squad.”
One of the ninjas removed his black mask, exposing himself to the Datong Way Grand Master. Wu Dao Ya’s face turned blue as he took a deep breath.
Both men remained calm, but neither wanted to acknowledge that they had known each other since childhood, trained together in Gongfu martial arts. Yesterday, they were brothers in arms; today, they were enemies.
A sad tune seemed to play in Wu Dao Ya’s ears.
How could he forget his enemy’s face? He recalled the last celestial warfare when Yuwen Hao massacred all the royal princes and princesses, including the Chu Jing King.
Wu Dao Ya remembered how Dong Fangyi had made their last stand, shouting, “Go! Save the Secret Princess and her protector! I’ll hold them off until my last breath!”
Wu Dao Ya had felt miserable about leaving his best friend behind but promised, “Hold on until I return. I’ll save the children and come back.”
Dong Fangyi saw a faint ray of hope, believing his best friend would honor his word. But, in his last breath, he closed his eyes, losing the cliff battle to Yuwen Hao. White dandelions filled the air, and one flower landed in Wu Dao Ya’s palm. Dong Fangyi, his body broken and bleeding, died, whispering Wu Dao Ya’s name. But Wu Dao Ya had come too late to fulfill his promise.
Dong Fangyi’s last words echoed:
“I’m dead, but the sad part is that death is freedom from this world. I should be thankful for dying. What you see is a dead person, though he’s alive today. The beauty in it is you no longer care about this world or anyone in it. There is no more ‘you,’ and no amount of pain can hurt ‘you.’ That’s the only gift death brings—freedom from pain, love, hate, and fear. Remember, I’ve given you this grace, even as you continue to live and pay for whatever you owe.”
Wu Dao Yao, though breathing shallowly, forced himself to speak slowly and in a whisper: “I do not expect gratitude from you. But I do expect respect and common sense. Let me free your soul for the life I owe, and may the winds carry this flower to the Feather Girl.”
After saying this, Wu Dao Yao looked at the white dandelion in his palm and blew it into the wind.
The remaining energy in his body faded like thin paper, and finally, he fell from the cliff.
A pair of teary eyes watched her guardian’s last moment. She wanted to scream and cry.
She longed to kill all the Chasing Ninjas, starting with their leader. Her trembling hands aimed three arrows at their foreheads.
The arrows whizzed sharply through the air, and Huan Huan, hidden in the tall golden grasses, seemed invisible.
Just like hunting reindeers, two of the arrows hit their targets’ foreheads, killing them instantly. However, Dong Fangyi, with ears sharper than the others, dodged her white arrows.
The tension was high, and the Chasing Ninjas suddenly lost the will to pursue her. Dong Fangyi, knowing Princess Huan Huan’s significance, planned to capture her alive and use her as bait for Yan Xun to achieve his goals.
He warned the remaining ninjas, “Do not harm her, or I will kill you all here.”
Dong Fangyi understood the girl was untrained in warfare and still new to this world of killing, but not hunting. He softly said, “Wu Dao Yao must have taught her well, but not well enough to defeat the Chasing Sand Drizzle Master!”
A young witness, hidden behind Princess Huan Huan, had already activated his flare just in time. He stepped forward, using his sword as a shield to protect her from the Sand Drizzle star darts. After Dong Fangyi’s failed attempt, the youngster grabbed Huan Huan’s hand, and together they ran away.
Meanwhile, Yuwen Yue received a ground report. His brows wrinkled as he listened to the whisper.
“Master! It’s a life-or-death situation, it cannot wait.”
“Send this mooncake. Here is a gold coin. Quickly, go!” Yuwen Yue instructed Yue Lui.
“Nuo! (Yes)” Yue Lui responded.
Riding fast, Yue Lui arrived at the Thousand Caves. At the entrance, a beggar woman, pretending to be blind, ugly, and filthy, asked for the token. Yue Lui handed her the gold coin while holding the mooncake.
Another man, cloaked in a spooky hood that covered his entire head, mimicked the same action and entered the cave.
It was Yue Lui’s first visit to the Thousand Caves, and he felt uneasy, as though someone were stalking him. But he knew the druid priest within the cave was like a ghost, capable of appearing at any moment.
Suddenly, Yue Lui bumped into someone behind him. His killer instincts kicked in, and he immediately strangled the man who had touched his shoulder. The man tried to speak but was choking and unable to move.
At that moment, another hand touched Yue Lui’s opposite shoulder. “You do not want to die here,” said a voice.
The cave was dark, but light filtered through from the other side, illuminating the beautiful rock formations. Yue Lui released the man’s neck but demanded, “Step into the light!”
The man obeyed, and when he stepped into the light, Yue Lui’s eyes widened in shock.
“Yue Qi! Little brother! What are you doing here?” Yue Lui exclaimed, wanting to hug him.
“I am not Yue Qi.”
“What? Then who are you? Come on! Why are you doing this to me?” Yue Lui asked, completely surprised.
“Brother Yue Lui, I am Yue Qi.” Yue Lui glanced behind him, seeing the face of the man he had strangled. “Ah, don’t play games with me! This isn’t a ghost cave!”
“Brother Yue Lui, please listen to me. This is Zuo Zong, our eighth brother.”
“Eighth brother?” Yue Lui was confused, but as he looked from left to right, both faces seemed identical. Frantically, he exclaimed, “This can’t be happening! This cave is full of ghosts! No!”
“No, I am not a ghost!” Yue Qi insisted, while Zuo Zong wanted to slap Yue Lui for being so frantic.
“The Yue guard brothers finally meet again! Hand me the mooncake, and don’t ruin my cave with your reunion!” Zao Baocung suddenly appeared before the three men.
“What reunion? No! These are ghosts! I’m seeing ghosts!” Yue Lui exclaimed, still feeling incredibly unsettled.
Zao Baocung laughed heartily and said, “I can explain, but perhaps you’d rather hear it from your brothers first. Try to kill them if you think they’re really ghosts!”
Yue Lui couldn’t bring himself to harm Yue Qi, but the twin faces were unnerving. He frantically said, “I would never kill my brother Yue Qi, but I saw him die years ago in the frozen lake.”
Zao Baocung said, “Believe what you will, but what you see here is real and alive.”
Zuo Zong drew closer to Yue Lui, making funny faces to scare him. Yue Lui, still in denial, said, “Ah… Ah… Get away from me! You’re both ghosts!”
Zuo Zong laughed loudly, while Yue Qi’s eyes welled up with tears. “Can I touch you, brother?” he asked emotionally.
Yue Lui, seemingly deaf to the situation, continued to deny that his seventh brother was alive. “No! Get away from me, ghost!”
The two brothers chased after Yue Lui, while Zao Baocung cracked open the mooncake and read the hidden message.
“You’re not ready to die yet!”
A man of strong stature drew his sword. Underestimating the determined boy, Yuan Che attacked. The boy remained calm, countering Yuan Che’s long sword with precision. Everyone watching saw that this innocent-looking boy was lethal. Yuan Che’s arm was dripping with blood, and he must have already felt mortal pain.
Ping’An, not wanting to kill more but angry, knew what mattered most at that moment. In a tired voice, he said, “Can’t you see? The crown prince is dying. My master can save him if you let me pass! My master can help him!”
“I don’t care who you are! How dare you touch the crown prince’s body? You are a lowly slave!” Yuan Che raged.
Ping’An looked at Yuan Song. The crown prince’s breathing was weak, his life slipping away.
Feeling deep compassion, Ping’An replied, “He saved my life, so I will touch him. I can’t let him die! It doesn’t matter if he’s the crown prince and I’m a slave. I owe him my life. This kindness must be repaid by saving him. Let us pass!”
For the first time in his life, Ping’An was bold enough to command the Seventh Prince of Great Summer. But his boldness only hardened Yuan Che’s heart.
“Who dares to command me to obey humble blood? Who dares?”
Yuan Che was furious, deaf to reason.
Yuan Song’s pale face showed he was nearing death. This was not the time to raise a sword or waste precious time.
The sound of horse hooves echoed suddenly. The leader of the cavalry dismounted and approached Yuan Che, speaking in a cold, calm voice. “Let them pass. I will ensure the crown prince is in good hands. You have other work to do. The Third Prince, Yuan Yang, has taken Xiaoqi Camp Seven. Either leave this place or die here.”
Yuan Che looked at Yuwen Yue with a mix of pain, anger, and uncertainty, then slanted his head, eyes sharp with a heavy heart. Reluctantly, he let the boy and the crown prince pass.
Yuwen Yue gave Yuan Song a pitying look, then nodded at Ping’An. “Take the fastest route possible. The crown prince must stay alive. You know what to do,” he ordered Meng Feng.
Meng Feng nodded, quickly wrapping a white scarf around Yuan Song’s shoulder to stop the bleeding. She mounted her horse and let Yuan Song cling to her waist, while Ping’An supported him from behind to prevent him from falling.
“Hiyah!”
On the other side, a pair of lovely eyes watched everything unfold. The situation seemed to favor the unexpected visitor—or was this person an ally of the Seventh Prince?
Chu Qiao smirked, mocking as she spoke. “Who can predict its ways? Who can count the hairs of every lowly slave and dictate whether a royal lives or dies?”
With the Great Summer crown prince missing and heavy casualties at Xiaoqi Camp, Yuan Che had no choice but to order the remaining men to abandon the frontier. It had been occupied by an unfamiliar family member who sought to control the Great Summer throne.
The results were clear: victory was secured by none other than the King of the Black Hawk Cavalry. All Xiaoqi flags were burned, and Yuan Yang’s exceptional troops, ever-ready for promotion, raised their flags.
From a distance, Xiaoqi’s generals and Yuan Che watched with regret, their hearts heavy in defeat.
There was no more Xiaoqi Camp.
Now the pressing question was how to report this. Would it benefit the Great Summer Emperor if Yuan Che marched back with his generals, parading the failure of Xiaoqi Camp’s collapse?
They weren’t heroes but disgraced men who would let these tragic events be buried in history.
Yan Xun, with his sharp sword-like eyebrows, flashed a debonair smile and swayed his head, saying, “Now, what will you do for me?”
Yuan Yang, having triumphed at the expense of his younger brother’s life and inexperience, raised a goblet in victory. “We are allies today, but you cannot invade my Chang’An. The heart of Great Summer is mine. You’ll have to bury me before you can conquer it and make it yours! I’m telling you, ask for anything else, but leave Chang’An alone.”
Yuan Yang struck Yan Xun hard with his words, forcing the King of Yanbei to draw his dagger. In a tense standoff, the two leaders tested the strength of their alliance.
Yuan Yang, exhausted, faced Yan Xun, who showed no signs of tiring. “Do you want me to prove now that I can bury an ally in just seconds?” Yan Xun asked, pressing the dagger closer to Yuan Yang’s throat.
But Yuan Yang, fearless, retorted in a hoarse voice, “You cannot win anything if you kill your allies so easily. Allies should be treated well, not threatened like this. Without me, you have no one. The world could still be yours if you keep me around longer.”
“And what if I don’t?” Yan Xun whispered, his dagger still at Yuan Yang’s neck. “I want Chang’An. Can’t you see how hard I’ve worked for this?”
“That can be arranged,” Yuan Yang replied, reversing their positions and preparing to strike.
Yan Xun, even as Yuan Yang’s dagger pressed into his throat, asked, “How?”
Yuan Yang, weary, tossed the sharp dagger aside, his pulse calming as his adrenaline rush faded. Annoyed, he said, “Two conditions: under my reign, and you give up the girl. Then, it’s yours.”
Yan Xun, now relaxed, laughed loudly. “What? Two impossible conditions! They can’t be met!”
The mood between the two rulers softened, and both, exhausted, laughed together.
Yuan Yang, wanting the final word, said, “For my reign, that’s possible. But to give up the girl? Ah… you can kill anyone and trade anything, but not the girl.”
Yan Xun felt a familiar sting in his heart. Yuan Yang’s words always hit harder than any blade. The truth often leaves the heart in silence.
The sound of a flowing stream calmed the surroundings.
A woman sat by the water, scooping the clear liquid to wash her hands. Her hands were soft and delicate, yet stained with blood and sin.
She had killed more than any man ever could, all in pursuit of true peace, becoming the defender of the cold Yan state.
Flashbacks of her childhood flickered in her mind—of when she was an innocent little girl, a big sister to her younger sibling.
She tried to recall the happy times in the field of white dandelions she used to gather and play in. Closing her eyes, she remembered how she always cast a secret wish before blowing the delicate petals. It was a ritual she never tired of. The act always felt magical, as if those little petals could reach the realm of the impossible and make her wishes come true.
Even now, wild dandelions carried her wishes. Suddenly, a beautiful wild dandelion dipped itself into the calm stream, and she couldn’t resist picking it up.
Her delicate hand gently plucked the white flower. As light as a feather, she held it close.
Closing her eyes again, she felt the innocence of childhood return. She was about to blow the flower’s petals, just as she used to, when a strong wind swept them away. The wind continued to sway her face, turning cold as her warrior garment fluttered in the air.
Then she saw a man’s face coming closer, his hand caressing her cheek.
It felt like an ethereal dream. The man seemed real, his face exuding calmness, his countenance promising daylight in her darkest nights. But then, he turned away, and she couldn’t understand why. She wanted to follow him, to join him.
The man looked back, sending her a gentle smile, warming her heart.
She heard his voice, soft yet clear. “Feather Girl, don’t resist the changes that come our way. Let them flow, let them fly. My love for you will never die.”
He extended his open palm, and the Feather Girl accepted it. But suddenly, her eyes opened, and she found herself unable to move her body or turn her head.
Her consciousness had returned to the real world. She lay in a humble tent, her fragile body covered in wounds and bruises, stabbed in the abdomen.
The harsh reality began to unfold.
Her eyes, swollen and barely able to open, made her unrecognizable. She had been a loyal warrior, but now she was abandoned and betrayed.
Her physical form was destroyed, and she wasn’t even sure if she was still alive or just another living ghost wandering the world.
As she tried to move, the dormant pain spread through her veins. She seemed paralyzed, knowing any movement would worsen her condition.
All she could do was release tiny drops of tears and remain still.
She longed to ask, “Wu Dao Ya, after all this, can you see the end of the road?”
But there were no answers, only lingering questions.
During the Yanming Guan all-out war, Yan Xun destroyed many small cities inside and outside of the strategic mountain pass.
General Yu’s cavalry rode back and forth to provide reinforcements, and everything was reported as a success. However, Yan Xun, suspicious and unpredictable, ordered General Yu to search for and destroy a small village near Meilin to save the Yan children held hostage there.
On the surface, it seemed like a noble order, one that could produce a noble act. General Yu, with her army behind her, promised to save them all.
Because of this, Zhong Yu lost track of Dong Fangyi and failed to monitor his movements, leaving Wu Dao Ya unprotected. This led to a series of tragic events, culminating in Wu Dao Ya’s death.
Zhong Yu had trusted Yan Xun too much, blinding herself to his dark side. Now, faced with harsh reality, she wished she were dead. She wished she had never pledged herself to loyalty. She wished she had never met anyone else but Wu Dao Ya. Most of all, she wished she had been by his side when he was dying.
After confirming that Wu Dao Ya had fallen from the mountain’s high cliff, Dong Fangyi did not continue his pursuit of Princess Huan Huan. Yet, he kept time in reserve, determined to uncover the identity of the young man who had helped her escape their sand drizzle attacks in the tall golden grass fields.
Dong Fangyi believed he had all the time in the world, so he let go of yesterday’s mistakes.
“General Yu, I believe there’s a mistake in the spy report that was passed to our Commander in Chief,” reported one of Zhong Yu’s scout rangers.
Zhong Yu, attentive, asked, “Why do you think so? What did you discover?”
The ranger, crying silently, presented a sackcloth and opened it.
Zhong Yu, unable to contain herself, turned away in fury. She unsheathed her sword, pointing it at the trembling scout.
The scout sobbed, begging for mercy. “General Yu, I beg your mercy! I only followed your orders, but I could never do this! I am no traitor. I am a loyal servant to General Yu.”
Zhong Yu’s cavalry, shocked, stood frozen, their minds unable to process what lay inside the sackcloth. The sound of clashing swords filled the air as they drew their weapons, ready to face an enemy they could no longer identify. Was the enemy among them, wearing the same uniform, or was it someone else entirely?
Zhong Yu’s deputy shouted, “The King of Yanbei will kill us all if we don’t find the traitor or identify the real enemy! If we don’t resolve this today, we’ll all die a painful death!”
Facing an internal military crisis, Zhong Yu said, “If not us, then who?”
Suddenly, Yanbei’s Black Hawk Cavalry arrived, and Yan Xun dismounted from his horse. His sharp eyes locked onto Zhong Yu, his face serious. He spoke softly, “A’Yu, what have you done?”
Zhong Yu, caught in this moment of crisis, felt the weight of her commander’s doubt. None of her deputies dared to speak.
A’Jing, confused, dismounted and inspected the evidence. Guilt and anger rose in his heart, though he could not place all the blame on Zhong Yu.
Breaking the silence, A’Jing pleaded, “My Lord, please give her a chance to explain what has happened.”
Yan Xun shot a sharp look at A’Jing and responded angrily, “Very well. General, you have this moment to explain this horrendous bloodbath and the killing of innocent Yan children, or face my wrath!”
Zhong Yu, though defensive, knew it hardly mattered now. How could she explain what had happened when she had only just arrived to assess the situation?
The scout rangers had reported too late; the killing had occurred the previous night. The helpless Yan children had been brutally dismembered and stuffed into a sack. It was an unforgivable atrocity, deserving of immediate punishment.
Zhong Yu’s integrity and morals were now compromised. A’Jing awaited her explanation, hopeful that she had no part in this gruesome massacre.
In the midst of this life-and-death dilemma, whatever General Yu said would determine the fate of her troops.
At that moment, another cavalry arrived.
Dong Fangyi dismounted and walked toward Yan Xun. Bowing his head, he said, “I hate to interrupt, Your Majesty, but I bring important news.” He made sure Zhong Yu could hear every word.
Yan Xun, glaring at Dong Fangyi, demanded angrily, “What could be more important than this bloodbath of innocents, Military General Adviser Dong?”
Dong Fangyi relished the tension, knowing he was about to ignite even more rage. “Datong Way died yesterday. He was buried this morning.”
He presented proof, which Zhong Yu immediately recognized.
Her world collapsed.
For a moment, she stood frozen, her heartbeat accelerating.
Zhong Yu felt as though all the swords from this bloodbath had come to slit her throat and stab her heart a hundred times over.
She wished it were a lie, but this was Dong Fangyi reporting. She knew him to be an adviser who didn’t play games with Yan Xun’s emotions.
After all, Yan Xun had once said, “Don’t you think it’s time to redraw the map, one without Datong?”
Yan Xun, appearing unaffected, turned to Zhong Yu, his cold emotions masking any response. He awaited her answer regarding Datong’s death.
Zhong Yu gave him a blank stare.
Dong Fangyi anticipated a harsh reaction from Zhong Yu, and he wasn’t disappointed. She drew her sword, pointing it at Yan Xun, and said painfully, “You murdered Wu Dao Ya and these children. You are the true offender here!”
That day, General Yu’s troops clashed with Black Hawk Cavalry. Dong Fangyi’s forces crushed them, while A’Jing, caught off guard by the sudden chaos, attempted to protect both sides.
But Dong Fangyi had already stabbed Zhong Yu in the abdomen. She collapsed in front of A’Jing, who caught her falling body, her blood staining his military uniform.
The rest of the troops continued fighting until all of General Yu’s soldiers were dead. Words could not capture the misfortune of that day.
When the dust settled, Yan Xun, blood and dirt smeared across his face, approached A’Jing, who was kneeling, desperately trying to stop Zhong Yu’s bleeding. A’Jing wept silently over the lifeless body of his comrade.
Yan Xun, cold and distant, gave him a heavy stare and tapped his shoulder.
In a soft voice, A’Jing said, “She had nothing to prove. She was spotless and loyal to you, but you still doubted her.”
A’Jing, though addressing Yan Xun as his king, spoke as if he were no longer subservient.
Yan Xun, knowing he should punish A’Jing for such behavior, chose to excuse it. He understood A’Jing’s grief. “You can arrange a proper burial for her, but do not bury her in Yanbei. She died a traitor, not a hero.”
“Is that an order to follow or a concern for a trusted servant and comrade?” A’Jing asked, wanting to understand Yan Xun’s feelings.
Without looking back, Yan Xun replied in a cold, painful voice, “An order to follow.”
Still grieving, A’Jing ordered his men to carry Zhong Yu’s body and find a burial site.
On their way, something unexpected happened. A group of women dressed in white hoodies and scarves attacked A’Jing’s men and took Zhong Yu’s body. One of the leaders said, “Time is up for your mortal body, but not for your soul.”
The squad formed a protective circle and used their powers to revive her. Zhong Yu’s blood was stopped just in time, her life barely saved by A’Jing’s efforts and her sister Viper’s knowledge.
Viper cut her wrist and let her blood drip onto Zhong Yu’s wound. Something miraculous began to happen—something difficult to comprehend.
Call it magic or divine intervention, but the underworld spies had the ability to protect and save whomever they chose.
Viper had missed much during her time in the ersatz realm, where she had fought underworld monsters and proven herself as the best spy and protector of the Chu Jing Secret Princess. After escaping the realm, she wandered through the five realms, her memories fragmented.
She eventually encountered Yuwen Yue in the Black Forest, who, by sprinkling golden ashes on her, temporarily blinded her. But when her eyesight returned, her lost memories were restored, and she was back on track.
Suddenly, Viper remembered her past and her mission to protect the Mimi Gongzhu.
She rallied the roaming underworld spies, while the Jianghu spies, scattered, awaited their leader—the Feather Girl, Zhong Yu.
Zhong Yu had not yet recovered from her wounds. She lay bedridden, unable to walk or talk. Though Viper’s powers had saved her life, Zhong Yu had to choose to heal and return to the world.
Princess Huan Huan, exhausted from a day of running, slept soundly in the arms of the handsome young man beside her. Unaware of the world beyond their shelter, she instinctively trusted this young man, sensing kindness in his heart.
The young man gazed at her serene, sleeping face and felt his affection for her grow beyond mere friendship. Embarrassed by his feelings, he quickly dismissed the thought, reminding himself of the mission: to secure the princess and the future of Yanbei.
“Hey!” Mo’Er called out, noticing the princess was half awake.
Princess Huan Huan, with her eyes barely open, felt hunger for the first time.
“Come on, let’s eat! We need to leave before dawn, or we’ll be trapped at the border.”
Mo’Er lit a bonfire, its flickering light casting shadows between them. He refused to meet her eyes.
“This is a good hunt,” he said, referring to the meal he prepared.
Princess Huan Huan walked towards the fire, warming herself as she sat down comfortably. She gazed at the gloomy night sky, seeing only a hazy moonlight.
“Take this,” Mo’Er said, handing her a winter cape. After a pause, he added, “Kindness should not be rejected.”
The princess couldn’t refuse the offer, knowing the cape would protect her from the cold night. She accepted it graciously and said, “What else did you bring that I should accept your kindness as if it’s a rare commodity? Aside from forcing me to run miles away from my guardian, what else do you plan to do to me?”
Her words were direct, and Mo’Er had to choose his response carefully.
“My kindness ends once we cross the border,” he replied. “Don’t expect me to be around all the time.”
Princess Huan Huan didn’t sense any ill intentions from him, but still seeking reassurance, she asked, “Who are you?”
Mo’Er knew this could lead to a long conversation, so he kept it brief. “Don’t worry, Princess. I’m not going to kill you. I’m one of the good guys.”
Princess Huan Huan studied his mannerisms, the way he carried himself, the way he spoke. She realized he wasn’t an ordinary young man who just happened upon her in the forests of Longyi Guan Mountains. His angular features, his composed stance, and even the heart-shaped hairline revealed that Mo’Er wasn’t from any common clan.
As a skilled shooter, Princess Huan Huan suddenly picked up a stone and raised her slingshot, aiming at Mo’Er’s head. But Mo’Er, anticipating her move, skillfully deflected the stone. He stepped closer to her and said, “If you want to kill me, here’s a tip—don’t use a stone. Use something sharp, like this.”
He held out a sharp dagger, offering it to the princess.
The gesture only confirmed to Princess Huan Huan that Mo’Er was not just a fighter, but possibly a warrior. Yet, despite her curiosity, she dismissed the idea that he might be a pirate. Mo’Er was becoming an intriguing mystery to her, but she finally dismissed her suspicions.
“Keep the dagger, if you want to live until dawn,” she said, with a tone that almost sounded like a threat.
Mo’Er smirked, letting out a short, sarcastic laugh. “I’ll keep it. I want to live until dawn.”
With a swift move, Princess Huan Huan suddenly snatched the dagger from his hand and held it to his neck. “Shhh…” she whispered.
Mo’Er, showing no fear, remained calm. He recognized this moment as a test of trust between them. Softly, he said, “Not bad, Princess.”
Without warning, Princess Huan Huan slashed the dagger against the bark of a tree behind Mo’Er, revealing a snake that had been lurking in the shadows. She had just saved his life.
“I wasn’t born to be your enemy, nor your friend,” she said coolly. “You can thank me later.”
She returned to her seat, crossing her legs in a meditative position, while Mo’Er stood there, silently admiring her.
He knew that he would continue to admire this girl for the rest of his life.
The death of Wu Dao Yao had stirred chaos among the members of Datong Way, who were also Yan army generals, as well as among the Yan elites in the secret chamber of commerce. Speculation arose over the sudden disappearance of Princess Huan Huan, and the members called a secret meeting to discuss both the death of General Yu and the princess’s disappearance.
But in the end, the Datong Way members avoided delving too deeply into the truth behind these events. They could already surmise that a single mastermind had ordered the deaths and orchestrated the disappearance.
While some Yan generals accepted this belief, the Yan elites sought answers and preferred to conduct a secret investigation to uncover the underlying causes.
A strong wind suddenly swept through the path, forcing Meng Feng to stop her horse, her eyes partially injured by the gust. On high alert, Ping’An drew two small daggers from his waist, ready for an attack.
The air grew still, but the leaves continued to sway in the wind.
“Look out!” someone shouted.
Suddenly, like a rain of fire, sand drizzle star darts flooded their path. A woman quickly removed her indigo scarf, using it to shield three people, excluding herself.
Despite the chaotic attack, she appeared divine and serene, clearly not an enemy. Her scarf shielded them from the darts, which turned to ash as they made contact.
Once the attack subsided, she approached the dying prince, counting to three before speaking.
“He won’t last long. We need to take him to Zao Baocung.”
Ping’An stood at attention and said, “Yes, Master.”
Meng Feng, recognizing the woman, said, “Haven’t we met before?”
Chu Qiao, remembering their past encounter, replied, “How did you go from killing to saving this savage prince?”
Meng Feng, without denying the truth in her words, simply said, “People change, and so did I.”
Chu Qiao smirked. “Tsk! You must have found a new master to whom you owe your life, a debt even your life can’t repay.”
Meng Feng nodded. “Yes, I owe my master a great deal.”
Dong Fangyi, observing from the shadows, stood frozen, unable to make a move. He was strong, but the ghosts of the past were stronger. “This can’t be happening,” he thought.
“How is he?” Chu Qiao asked Zao Baocung.
“It’s bad. I’ve done everything I can to help him endure the pain, but the blood loss is severe. Only a miracle could save him now.”
Zao Baocung admitted that without a matching blood donor, there was little hope for the 13th Prince.
Chu Qiao, looking at her delicate arms, asked, “Aren’t my veins miracle blood?”
Zao Baocung shrugged. “You have royal blood that can accept any blood, but the 13th Prince can only accept the blood of eminence.”
Confused, Chu Qiao asked, “What is the blood of eminence?”
Zao Baocung, wiping sweat from Yuan Song’s forehead, responded, “If you want him to live, you need to find the blood of eminence.”
Impatient, Chu Qiao pressed, “What’s it called, and who has it?”
Zao Baocung explained, “Among the royal family, the father or mother’s blood would be a 100% match, a sibling’s would be 50%, and a distant relative’s blood would have only a 20% chance of matching. You don’t want to be killed before the prince dies.”
Meng Feng interjected, “The Imperial Concubine Ning’Er died years ago, but the Great Summer Emperor might be a match!”
Chu Qiao considered Yuan Che but knew they had different mothers.
The last thought in her mind was Yan Xun, with only a 20% chance of a match, but it would be a suicide mission.
“I told you, there’s nothing more we can do,” Zao Baocung said, giving up on Yuan Song’s fate.
Chu Qiao, determined, said, “I will extract both blue bloods.”
Suddenly, a calm yet cold voice echoed through the room.
“It’s a fact that those born into the highest social classes possess blue blood.”
A man with a serene figure but a cold aura appeared.
Chu Qiao, recognizing the man but knowing this was no time for personal feelings, asked sarcastically, “Are you?”
In a calm voice, Yuwen Yue replied, “By pure chance, twice over, in the face of vanishingly small odds. Try my veins.”
Zao Baocung hesitated, saying, “No, I cannot extract the blood of the crown prince of Qinghai. It’s forbidden. It’s golden blood, and I can’t waste it.”
Yue Qi, standing by, said, “You’re a disgrace to the Highness.”
Zao Baocung, complained under his breath, protested, “I won’t! I will never mix blue bloods! It’s not my job, and I’ve never done such a thing!”
Yuwen Yue flashed a hand sign to Yue Qi and calmly said, “He’ll do it.”
Yuwen Yue then took Chu Qiao by surprise, holding a dagger to her neck. The room fell silent as Yuwen Yue whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry, but this is the only way. Order your healer, or we’ll spend all day with this charade.”
Despite the harshness of his actions, Yuwen Yue remained calm. Chu Qiao, though startled, regained control and whispered back, “Do it, or I will…”
Before she could finish, she smoothly reversed their positions, pressing the dagger to Yuwen Yue’s chest, just beneath his skin, drawing a tiny bead of blood.
Yuwen Yue remained still, seemingly enjoying the closeness, while Chu Qiao whispered in his ear, “I’m sorry, but this is my way of giving orders. Don’t try to take the dagger, or I’ll be forced to extract your blue blood.”
Despite the tension, Yuwen Yue relished every word whispered in his ear. “This is the real Chu Qiao,” he thought. “Fearless and lethal, never missing her aim.”
Zao Baocung, frustrated, scratched his head and complained, “I have no freedom in this! I’m not a free man!”
Chu Qiao pressed further. “Do it, or I’ll drain the Qinghai crown prince’s blood myself!”
Finally, Zao Baocung relented. “Alright, alright, I’ll do it. Put the dagger down, and I’ll handle it.”
Zao Baocung explained that he hadn’t tested Yuwen Yue’s blood for compatibility, but there was an 80% chance of a match since both were from royal bloodlines.
With a resigned sigh, Zao Baocung performed the blood transfusion, extracting Yuwen Yue’s blood for Yuan Song.
An hour later, the procedure was done. Yuwen Yue recovered quickly, but Yuan Song’s condition remained precarious. Yuwen Yue, feeling tired, found Chu Qiao waiting anxiously outside.
“Did I hear you right when you said you would extract both blue bloods?” he asked with a smirk.
“Stop it! Can’t you see what you made me do?” Chu Qiao responded, her tone a mixture of sarcasm and concern.
Yuwen Yue, despite his exhaustion, couldn’t help but engage in the banter. “How are you going to do that?” he asked, locking eyes with her.
Chu Qiao, unable to resist his gaze, replied sarcastically, “Why would I tell you? Maybe I’ll become a vampire, like the gorge spies, or practice black magic like the underworld spies. What can you do?”
For the first time in years, Yuwen Yue smiled genuinely, his cold look softened. Chu Qiao felt a shiver run through her, goosebumps forming on her skin.
Capturing her heart with his smile, Chu Qiao wanted to check his wound. “How’s that wound on your chest?” she asked.
Yuwen Yue touched the stain on his robe. “It’s nothing, like an ant biting a giant’s foot.”
“Oh…” Chu Qiao, momentarily speechless, said nothing more. She didn’t want to diminish the impact of their earlier exchange.
“If you have nothing more to say, may I take some time to rest?” Yuwen Yue asked.
Chu Qiao, unsure whether to respond politely or indifferently, simply nodded with a neutral expression.
Inside, her emotions were waging a war. Pushing and pulling her feelings for Yuwen Yue was no easy task.
Yuwen Yue had a way of creating happy endings from tragic moments. But was this truly a happy ending?
Back in his palace, Yuwen Yue spent the day writing in his library, while Yue Qi provided updates on Yuan Song’s condition. Though Yuan Song hadn’t fully recovered, his condition improved day by day.
Yuwen Yue refrained from visiting Yuan Song or Chu Qiao after his last encounter. He knew the Qinghai Queen was closely monitoring his movements, and he didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention.
Meanwhile, Chu Qiao believed Yuwen Yue still hadn’t fully recovered his memories. As the path of fate began to unfold, she realized the unavoidable truth of her journey.
Finally, Yuan Che looked at the final headcount of the Xiaoqi military troops.
From a once great and powerful force, the all-out war between Yan Mingguan Pass and Xiaoqi Camp had reduced the numbers to a significant loss, though the exact tally was impossible to confirm. The war was considered the bloodiest in Great Summer’s history.
Yuan Che now had to report the situation to the Great Summer Emperor, after Yuwen Yue sent him a snow paper informing him of Yuan Song’s condition. He thought this might be some good news his father could appreciate—or, at worst, just another piece of bad news. However, Yuwen Yue had not revealed the location of the 13th Prince, or that the Moon Kingdom still existed. He preferred to keep this hidden until all things reached their inevitable conclusion, when the day of reckoning would finally come.
When the Great Summer Emperor read the royal letter from Yuan Che, he collapsed from his throne. Tai Wei rushed the emperor to his royal chambers, and many physicians were summoned to check his condition immediately.
Yuan Che didn’t disclose the exact location of the remaining Xiaoqi troops, but he mentioned:
“We are safe, secure, and well-nourished, with provisions provided by an esteemed ally from the Far East. In exchange for their courtesies, we offer security to the Freedom Community. I’ve learned many new things and enjoyed the company of a few. A new world is emerging, where aristocrats and slaves can mutually benefit from one another, creating a balance of respect and freedom. They serve us happily, swearing loyalty in exchange for their security. Hence, we’ve become an iron wall. Although these slaves still see themselves as the muddy ground upon which the elites stand, all they wish for is to safeguard their lives and be defended in times of trouble.”
Yuan Che’s words invoked memories of the noble acts of old. It was the foundation their forefathers had built over generations, which had earned them their place in the nobility. But as time passed, Imperial governance had grown more complex, and with it came the abuses of both the people and the nobility. The nobles, in turn, became tyrannical and brutal. The old ways were forgotten, and constant changes only made things worse.
Days and nights passed, and the Great Summer Emperor fell gravely ill.
There was no good news to be found.
The Wei and Yuwen nobles were shocked when they heard the royal proclamation from the Shin Jin Gong Palace. Fear began to grip them over the fate of their lands and properties. Even though it was Yuan Yang’s troops that had taken over Xiaoqi Camp, insecurity simmered within Great Summer. The once carefree Elite Wei Lords grew more ruthless in their actions, slipping back into their warring state of mind, tightening security around their estates and relying on their family and loyal slaves. No foreigners were allowed into Chang’An, the capital of Great Summer.
Meanwhile, the economy of Great Summer continued to worsen. Basic commodities were being held up at Qinghai due to raids by Black Pirates along the coasts. Food shortages began to affect even the noble households, who were now experiencing an insufficiency they had never known.
And what of the poor households? Could they survive if the nobles grew greedier and began hoarding these precious goods? One could only expect the worst.
In a world growing darker and more heartless, where regret filled the eyes and anguish weighed on the hearts, the questions arose:
Who will protect whom?
Who can stand for the slaves and the poor?
Who will win freedom for the throbbing souls?
Who can stand against tyranny and woe?
When loyalty is given, can the receiver remain faithful?
When freedom is won, who truly benefits?
If there is one good thing left in this world, it is YOU—if you choose to be.
Chapter 85
Bleeding heart
The land was covered in thick snow, and snowstorms eventually hit the small villages. The two weary souls sought shelter, but hardships affected everyone—rich or poor. No one wanted to help, as everyone felt the cold.
Due to the severe winter, Mo’Er and Princess Huan Huan were unable to arrive on time. This left Zao Baocung with no choice; he left the Thousand Caves and returned to the Moon Kingdom, unaware of what had happened to them.
While the young Black Pirate struggled to keep Princess Huan Huan and himself alive, he trusted no stranger to become their ally.
As days passed, the Princess and Mo’Er discovered their own skills and strength.
The testing of each other’s trust never ceased, and their friendship grew with each passing day of delay.
However, the delays meant that fate was inevitable.
And so, without warning, one day it revealed itself.
“We have no water left, and there’s no chance we can replenish it in this barren white land,” Mo’Er said, feeling the thirst but avoiding drinking water. He ran his fingers over Princess Huan Huan’s lips to keep them moist.
Huan Huan couldn’t call him a gentleman, but Mo’Er’s actions were precise and full of care. She could barely open her eyes; all she wanted was to sleep.
Mo’Er kept waking her up, ensuring she remained alert.
Vast coldness engulfed the Qinghai lands as the harsh winter enveloped the entire Ximeng continent. From afar, in the dusty, cloudy desert, invaders began to reveal the threat they carried.
Outside the Qinghai Palace grounds, troops wearing white bearskins appeared as though ready to devour the approaching predators.
Zuo Zong, after completing his spying mission, called the deputy commander, who had just returned after nearly half an hour on horseback.
The tired and thirsty Qinghai deputy commander prepared the troops, while Qinghai’s crown prince right-wing command returned to camp, equally exhausted.
Just in time, Yue Qi whispered: “The left and right wings are outflanked on both sides.”
Following one of the soldiers, Yue Qi rushed to the front.
Soon, a group of Gurus appeared on the southern horizon.
Their numbers ranged between three and four hundred. Aside from a few soldiers in the front row wearing armor, most were covered only in scarves and heavy black eyeliner. They looked like soldiers of the Gods and Armies, as though they had broken off from a larger force and were trying to reclaim their city.
As they spotted a group of cavalrymen near the city gate, the Gurus troops showed no fear. They set up tents outside the Qinghai walls and planted their banners in the ground, intimidating the Qinghai troops.
No one dared to approach or flee.
Some impatient cloud air-wing riders commanded Ra Zheng to lead the Silver Prince’s cavalry, slowly approaching the other side. Meanwhile, two cavalrymen from Ra Zhun’s troops led their forces to the wings, eventually taking over the rear of their infantry.
As Ra Yue (Yuwen Yue), the godly cloud-riding commander, approached, he noticed the infantry on the other side exhibited no signs of panic. Though he aimed to defray, the cavalry’s pressure intensified, and he remained silent.
A sense of foreboding surged in Yuwen Yue’s heart, but there was no time to dwell on it.
The bowmen at the front began releasing arrows. Several cavalrymen around him were struck, and Ra Yue (Yuwen Yue) could only guide his horse toward his footmen.
With a quick release of his arrow, he put his bow aside and, brandishing his sword, charged forward.
More than 100 long-handled axemen and nearly 3,000 veterans armed with ten-foot spears formed a dense formation.
Silver Prince Ra Zheng commanded more than 2,000 archers at the front of the formation.
To prevent a sudden attack on Qinghai and its city, another army stood ready to respond.
Ra Zhun, confident that no reinforcements would come from the city, relaxed. Even if the Silver Prince infantry didn’t return, there was no reason to believe anyone would dare to risk rescuing them.
A common tactic used by superior cavalry against small infantry was to let the Silver Prince’s elite infantry handle the attack, leaving no room for escape.
Thus, Ra Zhun’s cavalry felt at ease, as if they were merely hunting.
From a distance, Ra Zhun watched the battle unfold with two hundred cavalrymen at his side. He smiled, shaking his head in disbelief at the battle formation. He whispered to himself: “Defeat will not happen in my lifetime.”
The underworld must be unleashed!
Intense hoofbeats echoed in the ears of each soldier. Ra Zheng commanded the archers to release three volleys of arrows and re-align through the gaps left by Qinghai’s elite spearmen.
The first row of spearmen held their shields halfway up.
The second row of spearmen positioned large crossbows with shields, bracing for the unstoppable charge of the cavalry.
Over a hundred cloud air wingmen realized they couldn’t engage directly in the front lines.
Following their leader’s gestures, the cavalry split into two flanks, resembling a pair of pliers, as they closed in on the marching troops from both sides.
The deputy commander, Yue Qi, saw the cavalrymen advancing and Ra Yue (Yuwen Yue) swallowed dryly at the sight.
Ra Yue didn’t blink as the fierce smoke of battle engulfed the cloud troops. Yue Qi raised his voice and shouted:
“Kill!”
“Find the flames!”
Yuwen Yue’s cold heart stood still.
A million fire arrows rained down like heavy rain on the enemy. No one expected a sweeping tornado to emerge, taking the arrows and windswept debris, destroying everything in its path. Yuwen Yue was right.
This was not a battle of physical realms but a mystical one. Human efforts were futile, as they faced an enemy whose powers could not be overcome with human strategy or warfare.
An overwhelming number of Qinghai troops were swept aside.
The mighty firestorm, fueled by Qinghai’s silver arrows, erupted across the battlefield.
Everyone, caught in flames, perished in their uniforms. The troops were taken by surprise, consumed by fire.
Zuo Zong sat down in a meditative position and whispered a prayer.
“We are not fighting flesh and blood but a mystical force. May these souls rest in peace and find their light.”
Ra Yue’s cavalry was forced to retreat, and Yue Qi sounded the alarm. The gongs at the Qinghai city gates began their haunting tune, and everyone—old or young, rich or poor, slaves or royals—trembled in fear.
Ra Zheng remained composed but had to admit that the time for human struggle had ended. He realized this was the era of the underworlds, as they faced enemies not made of flesh and blood.
Though unspoken, everyone knew that this moment had been anticipated.
Ra Zhun approached Ra Zheng, mocking him. “Afraid of it?”
Goosebumps crept through Ra Zheng’s veins. He recalled, “In the Persian Empire, they were feared for devouring not just flesh but invading the spiritual realm. What can we do now?”
“Qinghai’s walls are in total lockdown, yet you ask if I am afraid? Are you going to tell me bedtime stories again, brother, while our troops turn to ash?”
Ra Zheng frowned and turned away from the burning fires.
While defeat hung in the air outside Qinghai’s walls, the Middle Kingdom was in total lockdown.
Its vines and roots, once green with moss, had turned black. Some panicked Qinghai citizens attempted to enter the Moon Kingdom, but they failed. The vines ensnared their feet and swallowed them whole, ensuring they would never return to the shattered earth.
Zao Baocung and the people of the Moon Kingdom appeared safe, but without Mimi Gongzhu, the underworlds could never unite to defend against this threat, and the worst might yet happen.
Ra Yue arrived at the secret paths leading to the Moon Kingdom to meet Zao Baocung.
He first ensured the safety of his men, but he had to face the cryptic enemy alone.
“Can we make this terrible situation any better?” Zao Baocung asked Ra Yue, worry etched on his face.
Yuwen Yue, with a serious expression, replied, “Take these men and secure them. I must meet the Qinghai King and Queen.” Zao Baocung saw the two hundred soldiers and hesitated.
Zao Baocung then asked Yuwen Yue, “The Gurus are not ordinary people. Do you know who your real enemies are?”
“Neither do they know me,” Yuwen Yue replied coldly.
“Don’t worry about me. Worry about these men. And where is Mo’Er?”
“I waited every day for Mo’Er to arrive at the secret meeting place in the Thousand Caves, but he never returned.”
Zao Baocung couldn’t hide the dismay on his face.
Yuwen Yue sensed something had gone wrong, but he knew Mo’Er was always careful. He said, “Mo’Er has never failed. I trust that he will bring Princess Huan Huan back alive—and if possible, Wu Dao Ya as well.”
“I’m coming with you,” Zuo Zong said. Yuwen Yue did not object but glanced at Yue Qi, who understood that he would stay behind and assume command of the military.
“I have no one else who can lead these troops but you,” Yuwen Yue said to Yue Qi. “Including our band of brothers, you must secure them and protect them at all costs.”
Yuwen Yue left, with Zuo Zong following closely behind.
As they passed through the shattered door, Yuwen Yue noticed a faint glow in the looted Qinghai King’s Palace.
Qinghai city, dominated by delicate, ornately carved wooden buildings, had structures reinforced with iron ore, where fire prevention was of utmost priority.
Despite this, Yuwen Yue wasn’t worried. However, many of the buildings had been looted and burned, and the King’s eunuchs, resting in the palace chambers, had been killed.
A hauntingly handsome and cold figure, with his spy, cautiously entered some of the royal mansions. What they saw shocked them.
The palace was full of corpses—beauties, Han people, women, elders, and children—brutally slaughtered. It was clear from their positions that some had been killed during the initial chaos of the invasion, while others had been rounded up and slaughtered in the hall.
Yuwen Yue clenched his teeth, suppressing his nausea. One year ago, Zao Baocung had shouted, “The beasts are a thousand strong, but no one can find the Thousand Caves to hide from them!”
Walking through the hall toward the fire pit beneath the majestic stone house in the inner Qinghai Palace, Yuwen Yue saw the marble pillars supporting the wide dome had been smashed.
Under the three-story platform, a large fire pit burned. A few Qinghai survivors lay beside the flames, their blood flowing toward the pit.
Yuwen Yue looked around and saw no one else alive. He said to Zuo Zong, “The host has been killed. It should be easy to contain the fire. You must fetch some sand to extinguish it.”
As Yuwen Yue gathered soil from the remains of the family, he headed toward the garden behind the King’s Palace. Zuo Zong stood in thought.
“What is the purpose of creating such chaos in the King’s Palace? What are they after?”
The riots were clearly not caused by military forces. At least five thousand chaos troops had swarmed the city to create such widespread destruction.
In addition to the guards of the Silver Prince’s Qinghai Armies, three other troops were stationed outside the King’s Palace.
The strongest among them were the gods and guards of Queen Zhueje of Qinghai.
Or should I call them by their true nature—the Gorge Spies of the underworld? The military barracks spread around Ra Zhun’s small infantry, but the main force was stationed in the south of Ra Zheng’s Palace, at the South Gate, near the Middle Kingdom bridge.
As Yuwen Yue thought about this, he suddenly sensed something behind him.
He rushed forward, feeling the wind stir behind his head. He turned back, irritated, only to see a little boy holding a half-burnt stick, staring at him with deep, hateful eyes.
Yuwen Yue was about to explain, but the boy didn’t give him a chance to speak. He stepped forward and aimed the sharp end of the stick at Yuwen Yue’s chest with surprising agility.
Yuwen Yue, unable to avoid the situation, sidestepped the attack, grabbed the stick with his left hand, and caught the boy’s shoulder with his right.
Just as he prepared to speak again, the boy spun around and leapt at him, forcing Yuwen Yue to release him and step back.
Yuwen Yue still tried to explain, but the boy, like a wild animal, glared at him with madness in his eyes. The intensity of his gaze seemed to summon sharp edges from the air. Yuwen Yue had to move quickly to avoid the invisible blades, dodging behind the boy. He then wrapped his arms tightly around the boy’s upper body, immobilizing him.
The boy struggled violently, kicking and writhing, but Yuwen Yue held him as though in an iron grip. In desperation, the boy bit into Yuwen Yue’s arm. Zuo Zong, witnessing the scene, sighed and asked, “What’s happening, Master?”
Yuwen Yue realized that the boy must be part of the host’s family and had likely witnessed the slaughter of his loved ones. Aware of the boy’s pain, Yuwen Yue restrained his own, refusing to let go.
He spoke softly, “Little boy, I’m here to help you… Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
Suddenly, the boy’s form flickered and revealed itself as a ghost of the past.
Yuwen Yue instantly recognized that this might be a trick of the Gurus’ mystic powers, and everything he saw had to be navigated with reason and mental strength.
The boy, now friendly, poked Yuwen Yue’s nose playfully. Though no words were exchanged, it was clear the boy wanted Yuwen Yue to follow him to the well at the King’s Palace.
Yuwen Yue followed the ghostly figure to the well. Upon reaching it, the boy stopped and gave him a sorrowful stare. Yuwen Yue struggled to understand the boy’s actions and reasoned aloud, “Do you want me to look into the waters of the well?”
The boy nodded. Yuwen Yue hesitated, thinking, “Why should I listen to a ghost?”
But the boy’s silent insistence conveyed that this was not a trap.
After a moment of doubt, Yuwen Yue finally looked into the well. Inside, he saw the figure of the Qinghai King slowly turning to stone, his body being consumed by fire. Embers of his form scattered into dying ashes.
In a rapid sequence of events, Yuwen Yue saw the Qinghai King struck down by the Queen, but another figure intervened. No matter how many times the scene repeated, it was clear that the King’s decision had been a pivotal moment to save the woman who had planned to kill him.
In the end, the Qinghai King met his demise.
Even if Yuwen Yue had intervened with the Poe Yue Jian sword, nothing could have stopped the King’s fate. As the fallen monarch dropped a single tear to the ground, all of Qinghai was plunged into darkness and flames.
Gloom and despair filled the sky as bolts of lightning struck the palace, and the land was consumed by the sounds of pain and desperation.
The time of the underworld had come.
Yuwen Yue stood frozen, his heart aching for the father’s final farewell. A voice, soft but filled with longing, echoed: “Father… No…” The boy’s voice broke through the darkness.
“If you cannot stand for this empire, no one will save the continent. The King is dead, but his son remains. It is for this moment that you were chosen—the son of the Qinghai King, destined to defeat evil and restore peace to the people.”
As Yuwen Yue reached out to touch the boy, he was suddenly whisked away to another place, another time. Wrapped in coldness and eternal snow, everything around him was pure white.
Qi Hui spoke:
“A broken heart often acts harshly and foolishly. Without the comfort and wisdom of the wise, the human heart cannot endure. Today is only the beginning. The anguish you feel now will worsen, and you won’t be allowed to complain or even grieve. If the underworlds are unleashed upon the human realm, they will plunder humanity’s bones and flesh. Two swords, two divine abilities—you have known this from the start. The Poe Yue Jian sword must find its counterpart, the Canhong sword. It is the only way to subdue the underworlds and restore them to their original order. The grass empire of Yan shall rule with grace, and the great summer shall lay down their crowns. The Beauty Empire of the South will prosper again, while the hunter barbarians of the cold Northland will trade their swords for peace. Qinghai will remain on its snow-capped mountains, while the Qinghai Moon Son will rule in peace, guided by the North Star.”
Yuwen Yue suddenly found himself burning with fever. His body was drenched in sweat despite the wintry night.
After following the friendly ghost, he was discovered near the well, weak and unconscious. Time seemed to slow as the Gurus finally breached the Qinghai walls. Zuo Zong ran towards the Qinghai Prince, throwing himself in the path of sharp arrows to save Yuwen Yue.
There was no blood. As Zuo Zong checked his wounds, he realized he should not have survived. Yet, he wondered if a miracle had occurred. Was he still alive, or had he become a ghost?
The Skyshadow Woman created a dome of light, shielding the Qinghai Prince and sparing Zuo Zong from death. The deadly arrows melted away like desert sands.
Zao Baocung, transformed into an enlightened being, calmly walked through the chaos.
Inside the dome of light, the healer from the Moon Kingdom tended to Yuwen Yue’s frail body and whisked him away from the Gurus’ sight. Zuo Zong, beyond his human capacity, lost consciousness and was carried by the Skyshadow Woman. Both enlightened beings disappeared from view, and the dome of light became invisible.
The Gurus were left in confusion.
Their leader uncovered her face, recognizing the familiar place.
Meanwhile, the Qinghai Queen, swept by sudden winds, sensed that the Gurus had already invaded the Qinghai walls. She felt no fear—she had awaited this moment.
She intended to defy the prophecies.
The destruction of the Moon Kingdom was imminent, like a crouching beast at her door, eager to break through.
A slow, steady wind swept over two bodies buried in snow. Gasping shallow breaths, their eyelashes were covered in frost.
Chu Qiao’s jade-like skin prickled as though a hundred needles pierced her back, and she felt her palms heating up like steam.
She knew her powers had been sealed in the Erzatz realm, exchanged for Yuwen Yue’s second chance at life. She had lived as an ordinary person, but hope still lingered. The chance of helping the Qinghai Prince recover his memory seemed faint.
Yet, something stirred. She sensed that something beyond her comprehension was about to happen.
As the last winter leaf clung to the tree, the spruce began to shiver in the cold. Mo’Er, fighting the bitter chill, rubbed his hands together, warming Huan Huan’s cheek. But Huan Huan could no longer hold on.
Soft whispers rode the wind.
“No, don’t sleep. It’s not your time yet.”
Mo’Er, trying to save the ebbing life of the Princess, realized his mortal limits had been reached. He closed his eyes and succumbed to sleep.
Chu Qiao, walking alone through the vast winter hinterlands, sensed she wasn’t truly alone. She looked at the snow but saw no one.
Her instincts told her someone was tracking her footsteps.
Her pulse quickened, and suddenly, a white, blue-eyed wolf lay dead behind her. Blood gushed from the wolf’s neck, staining the snow crimson.
Chu Qiao ran toward the boy and saw his face.
A fragment of her memory flashed. It was no mistake—though he had grown, the boy still bore the same noble features and gentle eyes. He spoke.
“Can you open your eyes?”
Mo’Er, struggling to open his eyelids, knew he was spent. He nodded, but it took all his strength just to raise his hand and point southward.
Chu Qiao understood. When Mo’Er blinked, she recognized it as an SOS. She asked, “Can you walk?” Mo’Er did not respond.
“Okay,” she said, her voice filled with worry despite the shortness of the word.
“Wear this. I’ll be back.” Mo’Er nodded weakly and watched as Chu Qiao walked away, becoming a faint silhouette in the snow.
Chu Qiao, a master tracker, moved swiftly across the snowfield. Tracking was like reading a book—she placed an arrow in the snow to gauge its depth. The snow wasn’t falling heavily, so old tracks remained visible, and fresh ones were easy to spot.
She maintained a brisk pace.
The snow began to fall more steadily, but not fast enough to cover the tracks before she could follow them. However, tracking in deep snow was exhausting.
The ground became confused with tracks, but Chu Qiao could still smell human blood beneath the snow. She closed her eyes, allowing visions to flash through her mind.
She found the spot and saw a finger twitching above the snow. As she reached the victim, the oppressor emerged.
A pack of blue-eyed, white wolves was about to feast.
Without hesitation, Chu Qiao grabbed her arrows and shot the first wolf that dared to attack.
Her ears, sharper than ever, picked up every sound. She was fully armed with two bows and a quiver of arrows.
Peng!
The white wolf fell instantly, but the rest of the pack charged at her.
Chu Qiao, though mortal, relied on her human strength and skill to kill the first wave of wolves.
As bloodthirsty as the wolves were, so were her hands.
But now, she had only one arrow left.
She knew the scent of blood would attract more wolves. Her heart could not falter.
She saw a swarm of gleaming blue-eyed white wolves approaching from all directions. Zooming out, she realized the worst was yet to come. It was beyond human endurance; no mortal abilities could withstand it.
She needed a decisive victory.
Turning to her last resort, she traded her man-made bow for the Chu Jing Golden Bow. Drawing its string, a faint, tingling sound echoed.
The spruce trees shed their leaves, and the falling snow paused, suspended in the air. Time itself seemed to stop.
Though she had surrendered her superpowers to the underworld, the Kung Fu of ice still burned within her.
In slow motion, she closed her eyes and conjured an invisible, diamond-like flaming arrow. She aimed and released the arrow, curving it toward its target in the snow.
When she opened her eyes, time resumed. All motion returned, and fire spread in a circular pattern, consuming the blue-eyed wolves.
The entire pack was reduced to ashes.
With the heat of the growing fire spreading across the white snow, two human bodies were found in the middle.
It seemed as though they had been toasted alive, but the snow covering the body of the buried Princess had melted.
Chu Qiao walked slowly, gazing at her face.
“Her sword-like eyebrows and features seem familiar,” she thought, recalling someone from her past, someone who had once been dear to her.
Huan Huan slightly stirred, feeling the warmth spreading across her body. She saw Chu Qiao and, almost in tears, asked, “Where is the youngster?”
Chu Qiao smirked, not expecting this to be the Princess’s first question.
“I left him to die in order to save you.”
The Princess couldn’t contain her emotions, letting her tears flow freely. Gullible and emotionally fragile, she believed every word the stranger before her had said.
Chu Qiao felt a pang of guilt but refocused on the task at hand, saying, “I owe him a lot, which is why I had to follow where he pointed. Get up, and let’s find him, if he’s still alive—or if he’s already succumbed to the cold.”
Princess Huan Huan stopped crying and struggled to her feet. Chu Qiao didn’t offer her assistance, instead watching her rise on her own. Chu Qiao seemed emotionless, allowing the Princess to witness what had happened.
The Princess was astonished and asked, “What did you do?”
“In the real world, these heartless animals would have been exterminated,” Chu Qiao replied.
Princess Huan Huan, realizing the mystical event that had transpired, said, “The circle of fire prevented them from getting near and devouring us.”
“Exactly,” Chu Qiao replied curtly, continuing to walk. She used her Golden Bow to draw a line in the white snow, a dividing line that magically spread, allowing them to pass through the circle of fire.
“Not bad, no harm done to these animals.”
Princess Huan Huan began to trust Chu Qiao more than anyone else. It was the first time she had willingly followed someone.
“Yeah, and you’re not stubborn at all. I like your attitude,” Chu Qiao said, still walking ahead.
“Some dangers can be delayed, but you can never avoid the fight.”
Mo’Er, nearly frozen to death, had recovered quickly. Wrapped in the bearskin winter cape Chu Qiao had given him, warmth filled his body and restored his chi.
From a distance, his eyes scanned the horizon and saw two figures walking through the snowfield. His heart raced, and he stood up, waiting for them.
Chu Qiao, squinting her eyes, still felt strong, while the young princess trailed behind. “Do you mind if I ask who you are?” Huan Huan inquired.
“Does it really matter?” Chu Qiao replied, annoyed.
“Why are you so rude to me?” Huan Huan asked, feeling increasingly disliked.
“Get used to it,” Chu Qiao responded sarcastically.
“Did I do something to hurt you? Do you know who I am?” Huan Huan couldn’t stop herself from asking.
Chu Qiao suddenly stopped walking and turned to face her. “You resemble the former disgraced Crown Prince of Yan, now King of Yanbei. How could I not know?” She resumed walking, with Huan Huan still following behind.
Huan Huan felt a heaviness in her heart and asked, “Is he my brother?”
“Maybe, but don’t expect him to treat you like a sister,” Chu Qiao replied, aiming to lower her confidence.
Huan Huan, wanting to challenge Chu Qiao, chuckled. “And you liked him, but he married someone else, right?”
“Hey, you’re too young to be thinking about these things. Shut up!” Chu Qiao smirked.
Huan Huan caught on to the tension and continued, “Hmm… my brother liked you a lot but married another woman. That must have hurt.”
Chu Qiao burst into laughter. “Ha ha ha. Do you want me to shut your mouth for you, or put you back where I found you?”
Huan Huan laughed too and said, “I knew it, you hate my brother because he left you, and that’s why you hate me too.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, he is not your brother!” Chu Qiao, still sarcastic, couldn’t help but talk too much about Yan Xun.
“Yeah, I know. But after the deaths of all the Yan royal family, I’m still the closest kin. So, be good to me,” Huan Huan teased, knowing not the full story.
Chu Qiao didn’t want to discuss Yan Xun any further but recognized that Huan Huan might know more than she let on. “Wu Dao Ya was a good man and cared for you like his own child. Now, shut up. Save your energy—your ‘hero’ is waiting, like a dog.”
Huan Huan smiled at the corners of her mouth, feeling secure with Chu Qiao. She thought she had found a big sister, not too kind but not too cruel either.
“It has begun.”
Viper brushed the snow from her palms and felt her power growing stronger.
The woman beside her, accompanied by the underworld spies, summoned the snow-white winds. As she recalled the power of Chiyu Jian, blue feathers began to fly.
Their trail was hidden by the snow, but the tracks would reveal themselves if the Mimi Gongzhu uncovered them.
Zhong Yu, now leading the mission for her second life, was no longer just a Yanbei General. She had claimed her true identity as the leader of the Cloud underworld spies.
After surviving her supposed death, Zhong Yu struggled for months to recover. With the help of her sister, Viper, she had trained in Gongfu martial arts, becoming twice as strong and powerful as before.
Best of all, she no longer pledged loyalty to anyone. She worked solely for the original order—the Cloud underworld spies.
When a tree dies and is cut from its roots, the branches are forced to fall and grow anew.
Wu Dao Ya’s death gave birth to Zhong Yu’s leadership.
However, she had become a loner, rarely speaking. Seeking solitude, she often visited the Woolong Mountains to make peace offerings to the dead.
Blowing a dandelion flower into the wind, she whispered, “Thank you for your kindness and care. Thank you for your wisdom and patience. I do not wish for an easy second life, but I will continue to seek justice for Yanbei—not as a General, but as the leader of the Cloud underworld spies.”
Thin tears fell from her eyes, seen by no one but her.
“May it reach the heavens, into the afterlife. Until then, my love…”
Flashback to the King of Qinghai’s Palace
In the absence of the Qinghai Princes and the defeat of their thousands of troops outside the Qinghai walls, with the Moon Kingdom in lockdown, the Gurus finally invaded the Qinghai Empire.
Dressed in his royal white Hanfu, the King remained calm, exuding peace. He knew the Urugus were no ordinary enemies.
His fate was bound to eternal damnation, but hope lingered that the Qinghai Crown Prince would one day wield the sword of light.
With the remaining strength he had, the Qinghai King fought valiantly to defend the last fortress, hiding many Qinghai citizens underground—young and old, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters.
The King’s Imperial Guards were all beheaded by the Gurus’ leader, a ghostly figure shrouded in white silk.
The Gurus encircled the Qinghai King and began chanting.
Their chants transformed into invisible blades that slashed the King’s body.
His condition was indescribable. Yet, despite the blood dripping from countless small wounds on his royal Hanfu, he walked tall and proud.
Ra Yue, feeling his father’s pain, wanted to scream and shout.
Zao Baocung said to Zuo Zong, “He will endure. He cannot fight the Typhoid fever ravaging his body. He must heal to face the real enemy and win the battle later.”
“Who will help the King?” Zuo Zong asked, worry etched on his face.
Zao Baocung replied, “The King was already dead long before today. What you see now is merely a shadow of his extended earthly life. His time has been over for a while.”
Zuo Zong, still confused, said, “I will go and help the King.”
Zao Baocung warned him, “If you go, your life could end, and no one will be left to aid the Qinghai Prince.”
He added, “These Gurus do not see you as you see them. They lack a conscience and do not believe humans can change unless they convert and join their faith. They are not ordinary people. I warn you—they only protect what they wish to protect. To them, others are second-class, less than human, treated as unclean. They kill with cruelty, faking bravery, but it’s all a sham inside. They smoke their brains out to act this way, and by morning, they don’t remember their sins. They hide the truth and make you take blind leaps.”
Zao Baocung continued, “In the past, they were known to wage wars to force their faith upon others, stealing inheritances and creating confusion among their enemies. They curse and oppress. Nothing good comes from them.”
Finally, Zao Baocung reminded Zuo Zong, “These are not the principles we were taught. We stand for freedom, teaching people the TAO—The Way—what is right and wrong, how to choose heaven or hell, and the balance of good and evil (yin and yang). Do not ever forget.”
Zuo Zong, crushed in spirit, realized Zao Baocung was saying, “You cannot do anything about the Gurus.”
“For the Gurus respect only the wielder of the Poe Yue Jian sword.”
“They see only black and white—no gray areas. All you can do is wait for the right moment.”
The Qinghai King, weary from battle, dropped to one knee. Clutching the long sword at his side, he slowly fell.
The Gurus leader approached, ready to end his life by beheading him, but her delicate hand froze in mid-air. Everyone stood still, waiting for the next move.
Suddenly, the Qinghai Queen appeared, controlling the forces around them.
The Gurus stopped chanting.
As she stepped forward, low, haunting music filled the air.
The Qinghai Queen aimed for the King’s heart, but before she could strike, the Qinghai King touched the Gurus leader and pushed her aside.
In that moment, the sharp dagger pierced the Qinghai King’s heart, and blood poured from his chest as he finally collapsed.
Everyone was in shock; no one moved.
The Queen, startled, opened her palms and fell to the ground where she stood. She realized that, by her own hand, she had killed her husband, unintentionally breaking his curse.
Eternal darkness descended upon the Qinghai Empire. As the King died, so did his land.
His body slowly transformed into stone, which was gradually consumed by fire, turning to hollow embers.
At last, his spirit roamed free.
Released from the curse, the Qinghai King could now see the light.
Meanwhile, the Queen, finally unraveling the truth behind her lies, turned to Lou He and said, “Until his last breath, he chose to protect the Moon Kingdom. Now, I will destroy it.”
Lou He replied, “It is your jealousy that has brought ruin to us all. Your curse wasted the lives of men. You were rejected because you were never meant to rule this land and lead it to peace. You are a child of the Gurus, and nothing good comes from that.”
Lou He’s words revealed the Queen’s dark past, causing her to grit her teeth in rage.
Her outburst was terrifying, but would Lou He come to regret her words?
The Gurus turned their attention to Lou He and began to curse her.
Lou He, sensing the swift turn of events, knew it was unwise not to expect this. Looking back on the past, she recalled how the Gurus had saved her from Wei’s Garrison Courtyard, where she had awaited trial and execution.
The Gurus had anticipated altering the mind of the strongest underworld spy leader, shifting her beliefs to destroy the Qinghai King.
Their aim had been to condemn the Qinghai King to eternal damnation, trapping the curse in his body forever.
However, the Qinghai King’s unexpected act of sacrificing his life to save another had broken the curse.
The Qinghai Empire would awaken tomorrow to face darker days, without a king to protect its citizens.
It was not hard to understand, yet the pain that followed was unbearable—a bleeding heart left in anguish.
Lou He, unable to bear the curse’s misery any longer, had no choice but to disappear.
The Gurus and the Qinghai Queen were left in wonder.
“Viper!”
A swirling wind swept through the darkness as Viper suddenly awoke from a deep sleep. She tracked the soft footsteps around her. Knowing the lurking dangers in the mossy forest, she was aware that only the leaders of the underworld could lay bare such a trail.
Lou He, weak and drained, used the last of her power to reveal her presence.
“Viper…”
A soft hush accompanied the swirling wind as it brushed Viper’s shoulders. Viper, familiar with the scent, eased her mood. She hadn’t felt this calm in a long time.
Recognizing the presence, Viper whispered, “Master…”
Lou He slowly revealed herself, and Viper remained still. She saw the black smoke swirling around Lou He’s body and knew that the dark breeds had done her harm.
“It will be painful, but endure it for a while, Master,” Viper whispered as Lou He’s body was engulfed in black smoke.
Viper swung her whip, which glowed in the darkness, cutting through the smoke. Still, the black fog did not dissipate, and Lou He cried out in pain.
Hearing the cries, another figure arrived.
Zhong Yu chose not to ignore the call for help.
“Master! Hang on a little longer,” Zhong Yu said, using her Chiyu Jian power. The blue feathers transformed into a blazing blade of blue fire.
The glowing whip turned into red flames, and the blade of blue fire struck Lou He’s back.
It seemed as if death had arrived, as the combined power of the two underworld spies clashed against Lou He. She lay helpless in the darkness until suddenly, a firefly lit the gloom.
Lou He allowed the firefly to rest on her index finger, and the light began to grow inside her, illuminating her body like a switch had been flipped. Her body was wrapped in radiant light.
Exhausted, Zhong Yu and Viper collapsed to the ground, spent.
Time no longer mattered, and the morning light broke.
The sun rose from the east, bringing with it a beautiful dawn.
Everything is a cycle, turning until streams of consciousness are realized.
Snow-capped mountains and sea clouds passed as the days and nights blurred together.
The fortress of the Qinghai King’s palace had been captured, and its citizens were forced into hard labor, subjected to the Gurus’ teachings, which aimed to convert their minds and beliefs.
The Gurus claimed their ground, while the remaining Qinghai Empire was divided among the three Princes: Prince Ra Zheng (the Silver Prince), Prince Ra Zhun (the Velvet Prince), and Crown Prince Ra Yue (the Snow Prince), whose territories remained strongholds. The Middle Kingdom remained untouched.
The Qinghai Empire resembled a group of hills divided among the Princes, the Queen, the King, and the Moon Kingdom at the center.
When the Gurus finally announced the death of the Qinghai King, the citizens were devastated. Chaos erupted, and power struggles ignited bloody conflicts.
The King’s Ministers, Scribes, Qinghai Nobles, and Eunuchs faced execution by the Queen for refusing to swear allegiance to the new Gurus-led regime.
The two Princes, Ra Zheng and Ra Zhun, remained indifferent to the suffering and death around them.
Ra Zheng’s secret spies had been exposed and brutally murdered, their bodies paraded to demoralize his troops. The Gurus aimed to weaken Ra Zheng’s stronghold, crippling its operations.
Ra Zheng braced for the final attack, knowing he would have to surrender to the Gurus in order to survive.
Ra Zhun, on the other hand, remained elusive, earning his title as the Runaway Prince. Whenever the Gurus attacked his territory, he left nothing behind for them to claim.
It was his way of ensuring their efforts were futile, and he often laughed at their frustration.
Ra Zhun kept only a handful of Qinghai’s best raiders and ambush fighters. Cold-hearted, he forbade his men from starting families, except to protect their parents, sisters, and brothers.
This strategy made it easy for them to flee, as their families became permanent crusaders.
These crusaders were wanderers who mastered the art of killing and deception, able to pretend to be allies while secretly remaining enemies.
They had no allies but themselves. Ra Zhun continued to abandon territories, moving and camping throughout Ximeng Continent.
The Gurus easily invaded Ra Zhun’s lands but never captured his small, elusive group of citizens, making it difficult for them to conquer his territory.
They always failed to find any trace.
Meanwhile, after weeks of disappearance, Ra Yue, the Qinghai Crown Prince, humbly presented himself to the Queen.
Ra Yue had almost faded from the Qinghai Empire as his brothers continued to battle for control. One Prince used secret spies to outwit the Queen, while the other ran from the conflict.
Rumors spread that the Crown Prince had already been killed by the Gurus.
These rumors worked in the Gurus’ favor, causing the Qinghai citizens to lose hope and accept their grim fate.
Just as the King’s loyal subjects were about to be executed, Ra Yue leaped from the shadows and decapitated the Gurus executioners.
The entire crowd was frightened. The Gurus didn’t know how to respond.
Ra Yue appeared humbly, dressed in a simple peasant’s outfit, his hood made of sackcloth. His eyes were calm but cold, devoid of emotion, and full of inexplicable humility.
In reality, it was a bold provocation, an intense display of contempt for the Qinghai Queen and the Gurus regime.
Ra Yue, skilled in the art of killing, dropped his sword, and the Queen sneered.
“You make it easy for me! Seize the Crown Prince!”
Though the King’s loyal subjects were saved for the day, who could save them tomorrow? The Crown Prince had been taken captive—what future did Qinghai have now?
The crowd was not pleased to see Ra Yue. They spat on him, calling him names. “You are a useless Crown Prince! Too late to save this empire! You are dead! An imposter!”
Hidden behind his cloak, Zao Baocung whispered, “The brainwashed crowd… You know what to do, Your Highness.”
Yuwen Yue, indifferent to the insults, maintained his cold, stoic expression. He surrendered himself to the authorities while opposition mounted against him. Though he saved the King’s loyalists, the future remained uncertain.
For six days and nights, Yuwen Yue was locked in a dungeon, tested to his limits.
Deprived of food and water, Yuwen Yue sat in a meditative Buddha Zen position, eyes closed, enduring the ordeal.
He forsook his physical abilities, embracing the hard path of self-denial.
When two Gurus guards came to release him, one of them remarked, “What a dreamy sight this is… Is he a god?”
Though Yuwen Yue’s body showed signs of wear, his lips cracked and his skin pale, he remained untouched by the dungeon’s hardships.
His princely garments were still pristine, and the faint scent of plum blossoms lingered in the air.
The guards bowed before him, mesmerized by his calm, handsome presence. They gently escorted him to the Qinghai Queen’s throne room.
The Queen, astonished, said, “The coldness of your spirit and the fire in your heart kept you alive this long! You are an impossible human! But you will serve me and help unite the Ximeng continent. Will you join us?”
Yuwen Yue, clearing his dry throat, opened his eyes for the first time in six days. He spoke, his voice lively yet cold. “I agree to serve the Queen’s will.”
The Gurus were astonished to hear these words, thinking, “Six days in the dungeon, and he still speaks like a king, as if he is not of flesh and blood.”
During his time in the dungeon, Yuwen Yue had reserved his energy for this moment. Though physically weakened, his words were filled with power, making him seem almost divine.
As soon as Yuwen Yue gave his pledge, he closed off his heart to the cries of the Qinghai citizens.
From this day forward, he would join hands with the Gurus, while the Moon Kingdom awaited its grim fate.
The greater master had been restored to life, but the two lesser masters remained weakened by their powerful efforts.
Zhong Yu, still recovering, lay peacefully in sleep. Lou He, watching over her, said, “She will need more time to heal. I want the Wind spies to monitor her closely.”
Viper, standing at the tent’s entrance, approached Lou He and said, “She was like this when we found her, dying at the hands of Yan Xun’s men. She was about to be buried, but before it could happen, she called for the trade winds.”
Viper paused before continuing. “The clouds of heaven sent a warning, and we rushed to her aid.”
Lou He nodded and asked, “Was it the same when you found me in the mossy forest, helpless and near death?”
“And have you found the Mimi Gongzhu?”
Viper replied, “Master, I never doubted you were alive. I have seen the Kungfu of ice powers twice as strong in Mimi Gongzhu’s body. However, she was too weak to handle it when she was younger.”
Viper’s voice softened. “Mimi Gongzhu changed after she was lost in the Erzatz realm, where I too was stranded. My memories floated before my eyes as if they weren’t mine.”
“I was swept into the underworld’s grasp, nearly losing my life. Then, I remembered your power—the Kungfu of ice—and used an ice needle to defeat the darkness and escape.”
Viper continued, “The ice needles saved me again when I felt the pain and knew you were nearby.”
Lou He, pleased with Viper’s memories, said, “Indeed, the ice needles are a signal of pain, a call for help, or even a means of salvation.”
“Thank you for saving my life. I hope Zhong Yu will follow the path of recovery and regain her strength in time.”
Chapter 86
Awakening
Three thin figures are seen in the distance, walking through the knee-deep snow between the borders of Qinghai and Wei. Not far off, the distant Yan Ming Guan mountains are covered with ice and snow-capped peaks.
In this harsh and brutal cold, you can feel it deep in your bones, as if it drills into your very marrow.
Chu Qiao used her diamond arrows to keep their cold bodies warm. This was not the time to explain, and her companions knew not to ask questions. Mo’Er began setting up a small bonfire to warm them during the cold night. Their destination was neither far nor near.
Silence reigned, but Mo’Er had to ask.
“Auntie, why haven’t you met Uncle yet?”
“Mo’Er, shouldn’t you ask that question to your uncle first?” Chu Qiao tried to evade the topic.
Huan Huan interrupted, saying, “Oh, who is this Uncle? I guess he’s my uncle’s rival too?”
Mo’Er smiled and said, “So you have an uncle too?”
“Yeah, I have a very handsome uncle. So handsome that pretty girls can’t stay calm when they see him!”
Huan Huan gave a sarcastic smile and looked at Chu Qiao. Chu Qiao pretended not to notice and ignored everything Huan Huan said.
“Is your uncle handsome too?” Huan Huan wanted to know more about Mo’Er’s uncle.
Mo’Er shook his head and replied, “My uncle is the most handsome and richest man in the world.”
“Oh, you mean like a prince?” Huan Huan smirked.
Mo’Er liked her smirking face but didn’t answer, leaving Huan Huan to wonder about this mysterious uncle.
Huan Huan proudly declared, “My uncle is a king.”
“Yeah, a wicked king!” Mo’Er smiled, as if mocking her.
Huan Huan pouted and said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Maybe, but my uncle will be a king someday. He’s the crown prince of—”
Mo’Er was suddenly cut off when Chu Qiao said, “Enough of this idle chatter!”
Huan Huan asked, “Why are you upset about our uncles?”
Chu Qiao bluntly replied, “Your uncles aren’t here, so why talk about who’s wicked and who isn’t?”
“Hmmm… You’re right, but I still want to know more about Mo’Er’s uncle and you! Are you two dating because my uncle is married to someone else?”
Chu Qiao squinted and mockingly said, “You really want to know who Mo’Er’s uncle is and if I’m dating him?”
Huan Huan eagerly replied, “Yes, I do!”
Chu Qiao asked curiously, “Why do you want to know?”
Huan Huan stopped, wrinkled her eyebrows, and looked angrily at Chu Qiao.
Mo’Er interrupted and said, “She wants to know who replaced her uncle in Auntie’s heart!”
Mo’Er intended to shame Huan Huan, but Huan Huan, instead, wanted to spank Mo’Er. Chu Qiao interjected and said, “I’m not dating anyone, and I have no plans to date either of your uncles!”
Huan Huan whispered softly, “Poor Mo’Er’s uncle…” and smirked at Mo’Er.
Mo’Er heard it, smirked as well, and said, “Poor Huan Huan’s wicked Uncle King.”
The teasing, especially the emphasis on “wicked,” never stopped.
A new dawn, a new hope. What’s good about the morning?
Chu Qiao woke up first. It was time to walk and reach their destination. However, the two youngsters were still asleep. Chu Qiao smirked when she saw Huan Huan’s youthful skin, reminding her of Yan Xun’s face.
With her eyes still closed, Huan Huan sensed her and said, “Are you staring at me or remembering my uncle’s face?”
Chu Qiao coughed and said, “Ahem, ahem. I was just checking if you were dead or alive.”
“Oh! The princess closed her eyes,” Huan Huan laughed out loud and said, “If I’m alive, my uncle will be happy. Maybe he’ll even divorce his wife to marry you. But if I’m dead, my uncle will probably hunt you down!”
“But he won’t kill you. I guess he’d kill Mo’Er’s uncle instead!”
Chu Qiao replied, “That is, if your uncle can kill me or Mo’Er’s uncle so easily! Now pack your things, and let’s go!”
“Haha…” A soft giggle was heard.
Huan Huan opened her eyes, gladly gathered her things, and said, “I still feel like you like my uncle more than Mo’Er’s uncle. I’m going to tell him when I see him!”
“Why do you think that, Princess?” Chu Qiao asked as she prepared to leave.
Huan Huan replied, “Because I’m still alive! You didn’t kill me when you had the chance!”
Chu Qiao stayed silent, while Mo’Er quietly packed his things, ready to go.
Meanwhile, the three travelers stopped by a river. They washed their faces when Chu Qiao sensed someone lurking behind them.
Each day, the crown prince of Qinghai, Ra Yue (Yuwen Yue), ordered the cutting of the black vines and roots of the Moon Kingdom. It was a project in progress but always met with failure.
Figuring out how to breach the Moon Kingdom, which lay in the middle of the Qinghai steppes, proved difficult. The task drove him mad, draining his energy.
“This is futile!” Ra Yue shouted, and ordered, “Again!”
The Queen, Zhuejue, happened to pass by. She mocked Ra Yue, “Are you making progress or simply doomed to fail?”
“Shall I order the Gurus to take over, instead of watching you exhaust yourself trying to destroy this black-vined kingdom?”
Ra Yue couldn’t let the Queen go unanswered. “Your Highness, why do you choose to walk this ugly road and ruin your mood?”
“Isn’t it a waste of time and energy to be here?”
The Queen’s face tightened, but she forced a sweet smile for her stepson and said, “An ugly road, yes, and it does ruin my mood. But seeing your progress, even if it drains some of my energy, is not a waste of time. You should hurry! Burn this place to ashes once it’s breached!”
Ra Yue gave the Queen a sly grin, trying to convince her he was someone she could rely on. He replied, “I must be lucky you came to see this beauty, though I’m sure you were disappointed by this unfinished work. It will be completed exactly as you expect, soon.”
Though it sounded like a compliment, it was actually a sarcastic remark.
The Queen heard what she wanted and left Ra Yue with a sharp look, showing her patience was running thin. She ordered her servants to escort her away.
With her hands folded, Queen Zhuejue’s servants carried her grand palanquin toward the palace.
Left alone, Ra Yue’s servants came to attend him. He ordered one of the slaves to bow, and another slave used a handheld belt to flog the first.
This was reminiscent of Yuwen Yue’s cruel ways in Wei, yet Ra Yue of Qinghai was acting in the same manner.
Ra Yue had to show the Gurus he wasn’t taking the Queen’s words lightly.
The Gurus believed Ra Yue wasn’t yet a trusted ally for their new regime. However, because Ra Yue had gained the Queen’s favor, he remained by her side to fulfill her every whim and capricious request.
Ra Yue appeared harsh and cold. He seemed to have turned away from his people, embracing an aristocratic principle: “Slaves obey.”
The Qinghai Queen believed in every deed Ra Yue performed in front of her. She entrusted him with many affairs, including capturing his two brothers, Ra Zheng and Ra Zhun.
Meanwhile, in the Moon Kingdom, a man was dragged by Zuo Zong in search of Zao Baocung.
“Is there anyone colder and harsher than His Highness Ra Yue?” Yue Qi was treating the wounds of the servant who had suffered from the flogging earlier.
“I don’t know! Do you even know the Master of the fourth branch, Yuwen Yue, in Wei?” asked Zuo Zong.
“I’m trying to understand where he’s coming from. Seriously, is flogging servants one of his ways?” Zuo Zong mused, feeling unsettled.
“Is that praise or mockery?” asked Zao Baocung. Then he added, “He has to act. Believe me, Ra Yue will soon destroy this place.”
Zuo Zong went silent as he listened to Zao Baocung.
Zao Baocung continued, “Go back to His Highness Ra Yue now. He needs you more than we do here.”
Yuwen Yue brandished a star dart upon Zuo Zong’s arrival.
His cold, indifferent gaze sent chills down Zuo Zong’s spine. It was hard to believe that his master brother had almost killed him.
Small drops of blood slowly dripped from Zuo Zong’s neck.
Yuwen Yue seemed composed. Zuo Zong stammered, “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I…”
Before he could finish speaking, Yuwen Yue placed two fingers on Zuo Zong’s lips and applied balm around the wound on his neck. This unexpected act confused Zuo Zong.
Yuwen Yue softly whispered in his ear, “The walls have ears, illegal channels.”
Every time Yuwen Yue said something, Zuo Zong felt unsettled.
He had never understood who Ra Yue really was when he was still the Master of the Eyes of God, but looking at him now, Zuo Zong began to understand why his brother Yue Qi remained silent all the time.
This wasn’t Zuo Zong’s usual conduct, but he was learning the hard way for the sake of Ra Yue’s safety.
Sometimes, Zuo Zong wanted to give up, but the scar on his left shoulder reminded him of his vow to serve his Master brother.
He was loyal to no one but a few.
That loyalty was reserved for Ra Yue.
Yuwen Yue didn’t even look at him as he coldly said, “You are dismissed.”
Emotionless, cold, and distant—this was Ra Yue at the moment.
A lady sat atop the mountain in a meditative pose, inhaling deeply as she played the last notes of her flute.
She sensed the end was near.
Weeks had passed, and the Cloud leader remained asleep with no sign of when she would awaken.
Viper had just finished her morning routine when Lou He greeted her, “Viper, how is Zhong Yu?”
Viper shook her head from side to side, saying nothing, and looked down.
Lou He sensed that Zhong Yu might never wake up in time, and the cloud spies wouldn’t be as strong as she had hoped.
So Lou He ordered Viper, “Gather the Jianghu spies. We can’t stay here waiting for Zhong Yu to wake up.”
“Master, and the Mimi Gongzhu?” Viper asked.
Lou He replied, “I have a suspicion that she is bound by the ancient oracle.”
Viper suddenly stopped playing with her whip and asked, “Is it really happening, Master?”
“I haven’t spoken or revealed myself to Zao Baocung yet. I’m trying to confirm whether Mimi Gongzhu is bound by the oracle. If she isn’t, Chu Qiao should have united the wind and cloud spies before the King of Qinghai died and declared a new seal of the wind and cloud decree. Qinghai should have been protected from the Gurus’ invasion, and I would have died.”
Lou He’s grim revelation made Viper realize that uniting the wind and cloud spies and finding Chu Qiao as their Greater Leader would be her end.
Viper tightened her grip on her whip, staring blankly. “All this time, this is why Lou He hasn’t united the wind and cloud spies?”
Lou He explained, “I was predisposed by the Gurus, and I led their invasion of Qinghai. I faced the King of Qinghai and nearly killed him. But the King’s sudden sacrifice saved me. When the King’s curse was lifted, mine was freed as well. I was released from the Gurus’ dark chants, but I couldn’t undo what had been done. I fled once again. And now, here I am, standing before you.”
Viper, still piecing things together, asked, “If Mimi Gongzhu was bound to the oracle, does that mean her power was suspended in the Ersatz Realm?”
Lou He responded, “Yes.”
“And if you abandon the Higanbana and trade it for the sake of humanity, we half-breeds face eternal consequences.”
“Would that consequence be being imprisoned in the Ersatz Realm, Master?” Viper asked, feeling a deep fear for the first time.
“Yes! You wouldn’t be a prisoner in the traditional sense, but you’d be swallowed by oblivion, with no return or reversal,” Lou He said in a sad tone.
“Master, what is the time requirement?” Viper asked boldly.
“A quarter of Ersatz time is measured by the quarter of an Ersatz incense stick,” Lou He revealed.
Viper’s knees suddenly weakened, and she sat down, staring blankly. “The Mimi Gongzhu will never die but will be suspended in the Ersatz Realm forever. She will never lead a normal life on earth, nor will she reach the afterlife.”
“How much for the mooncake?”
In a soft and gentle voice, the woman, her head covered by a scarf, asked the beggar on the street.
“This is no ordinary cake; it will lead you to a thousand caves,” the old beggar weakly replied.
“Set me up!” Lou He handed the beggar a silver coin, and the beggar gave her a fresh mooncake.
“May the heavens favor you as the Moon Kingdom’s destruction approaches!”
“Strange! Is this really the end?” Lou He revealed her face to the beggar as she removed her scarf.
The beggar was astonished and exclaimed, “Master, is it you?”
Lou He said nothing and simply showed the beggar a compass in her hand, transporting him in a brief moment to another space and time. The old beggar felt calm and at peace. “Master, we’ve been waiting for your return! Save the Moon Kingdom! Its destruction is imminent!”
“Lead me to the Healer!”
Zao Baocung was performing some chants when he sensed a strange presence in the cave.
“Viper! Don’t frighten me! I know your shadow!”
Zao Baocung grabbed his cold dagger and threw it sideways. A ghostly presence swiftly dodged it.
“Oh, useless weapon!”
Zao Baocung calmly picked up some star darts and threw them again. This time, the ghostly figure turned to him and took his hand, saying, “It’s Lou He.”
Zao Baocung, rarely seen this way, was utterly shocked. He hadn’t expected the Greater Master of the Moon Kingdom to be alive and standing before him.
“Master! What… what…”
Before Zao Baocung could finish, Lou He hushed him. “I am really here, flesh and blood, and with Viper.”
Zao Baocung fell to his knees, tears welling up. “Master, the destruction of the Moon Kingdom is near. The Mimi Gongzhu cannot save its walls; her powers were suspended in the Ersatz Realm!”
“How do you know? How much time is left?” Lou He asked.
“To your first question: I was there when the trade of winds happened. To your second: it will happen soon. I, too, will disappear.”
Zao Baocung confessed, “How could I not know? I was there with Mimi Gongzhu, temporarily suspended while saving the life of Prince Xiao Ce of Liang.”
Lou He confirmed, “Yes, one of the Jianghu spies reported that the Prince of Liang was found dead, but a miracle brought him back to life.”
“We know that Mimi Gongzhu cannot save a soul twice, and using her powers will bring about the end of the Moon Kingdom. Yet, she wants to do it, even though she knows the consequences,” Zao Baocung said.
After a pause, he added, “After saving Prince Xiao Ce, now Emperor of Liang, Mimi Gongzhu used her Higanbana powers to alter the fate of Yuwen Yue, Qinghai’s lost crown prince. When she saved Yuwen Yue from the icy lake, she lost herself in time. Her Chibi is nearly incurable, but thanks to Viper, she regained her memories and leadership to continue the underworld league of spies. However, the cycle of fate continues to entangle her with Yuwen Yue.”
Lou He added, “You know something, Zao Baocung? Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue weren’t supposed to meet after the icy lake tragedy. It should have ended that day. Chu Qiao should have accepted that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t change Yuwen Yue’s fate. But she used her powers to alter the course of destiny, disrupting the balance.”
Lou He revealed, “I was partly to blame as well. Before I disappeared, I transferred 80% of my power to Chu Qiao and 5% to Xia Chong. Even if I return, my powers aren’t enough to save the Moon Kingdom from the spies, dark breeds, and other threats. We need Mimi Gongzhu to lead, or her fate will be worse than Xia Chong’s, who died by her own choice.”
Zao Baocung said, “Then we need to stop the Qinghai Crown Prince and save the kingdom!”
“Does the Qinghai Crown Prince know that destroying the kingdom will also mean Chu Qiao’s end in this realm, locking her in the Ersatz Realm forever?” Lou He asked.
Zao Baocung replied, “No. He plans to destroy the Moon Kingdom to earn their trust and drive out the Gurus with his Poe Yue Jian sword. He wants to unite Ximeng and dismantle the Gurus’ regime piece by piece. May mercy find him when that day comes.”
“Has he lost his memories? Is his Chibi healed?” Lou He asked, expecting a difficult answer.
“I tried to heal him, but the Crown Prince remembers nothing of Mimi Gongzhu,” Zao Baocung replied sadly.
Lou He thought for a moment and said, “Maybe he’s faking it. Why else would he come to you?”
“When we found him, he didn’t remember us, but he trusted us enough to make us his secret spies,” Zao Baocung explained.
Lou He paused in thought, experiencing a brief vision. Then she stared blankly at Zao Baocung.
Zao Baocung noticed her trance and shouted, “No, Master! I can’t let that happen!”
Suddenly, Lou He collapsed, and Viper caught her.
The chanting monks, sitting in Zen positions, continued to play their singing bowls, filling the air with soft, calming sounds.
Zao Baocung began a healing song using a flute, while Zhong Yu whispered in her ear, “Come back to us. I am here.”
Viper waited outside, guarding the palace entrance day and night. A familiar monk caught her attention. “No! This can’t be you!” she exclaimed.
Yuan Song, dressed in a simple robe, stood before her in silence.
He closed his eyes and continued to meditate.
Viper couldn’t believe her eyes. She was seeing the next emperor of the Great Summer Dynasty, who had become a monk.
It has begun.
“What is this? Destroying a kingdom inside your own kingdom? Is Ra Yue even thinking straight?”
After Lan Shuyi delivered the report to the Silver Prince, Ra Zheng, she knew it would upset him.
“I cannot allow this to happen! If we lose the Moon Kingdom, the balance of good and evil will be wiped out, and the entire Ximeng continent will be engulfed in darkness. There will be no peaceful mornings. Darkness will swallow Qinghai, and the SUN empire will fall.”
Lan Shuyi boldly asked, “My Prince, will the end of the Moon Kingdom also mean the end of the half-breeds, dark powers, and magic from the underworld spies?”
Ra Zheng revealed, “If the Moon Kingdom is destroyed, all prophecies will be fulfilled. The five realms will cease to exist, and the portal gates of the Forgotten River will close, shutting the door to the afterlife forever. The Garden of Higanbana will die. Happy Valley will be laid waste, and kungfu and ice wisdom will disappear. The Hellfrost melts will unleash all the beasts trapped for centuries. Lastly, the Ersatz Realm will be locked in the oblivion of time. Worse still, the underworld will lose its power. No more half-breeds, no more godly beings—just simple humans, powerless, and vulnerable. We will all die, just like any other mortal beings.”
“I think we all deserve to die,” Lan Shuyi remarked with a curious tone.
Ra Zheng, not upset, replied, “If we lose the balance, we all die, without the power to even know what’s on the other side.”
It was a grim day for the Silver Prince, and he could neither plan his course nor think clearly.
Ra Yue finally poured a potion onto the black vines.
Suddenly, the vines began to change color, turning green. They appeared soft and weak, incapable of holding their strength. The ground beneath began to flourish, creating a lush vine forest. It seemed as though the black vines had been cured of their sickness, blooming with green leaves. However, the small, poisonous purple flowers began to emit a fragrant scent. These were not plum blossoms, but their sweet aroma was deadly, meant to kill anyone without a scarf to cover their nose and mouth.
Ra Yue knew these little purple flowers spread death like a virus. Once inhaled, the perfect scent would suffocate the lungs, sending people into a sleep from which they would never wake.
Was this an awakening from the worst nightmare or the wildest dream?
Ra Yue, aware of the danger, ordered all his men to wear thick scarves, including himself. But despite the precautions, some of his men fell sick. The only cure was the plum blossom oil that Ra Yue had prepared in advance. He winked at Zuo Zong, needing no words to communicate.
“Here, take it,” Zuo Zong said, handing the oil to one of the slave servants, who dared not refuse. The servant applied it to the temples of a man who had fallen unconscious. After a few seconds, Zuo Zong checked the man’s pulse and glanced at Ra Yue. Ra Yue nodded coldly and said, “What use is dead meat?”
The Gurus, following Ra Yue like dogs, believed the man was dead and assumed Ra Yue was disposing of the body.
Acting his part, Zuo Zong angrily barked at the servant, “Get him out of here!” The servant obeyed, knowing what to do.
Ra Yue said, “Enough for today! Unless we all want to die here, we won’t destroy another inch of this place.”
The Crown Prince’s palanquin was lifted, and the men followed them back to Qinghai.
One of the Gurus’ servants tried to steal a small purple flower, but Zuo Zong caught him. “Ah, ah, you don’t want to do that, do you? You saw what happened here! Drop it, or I’ll chop off your hand!”
The young servant of the Gurus quickly dropped the flower and listened to Zuo Zong, feeling uneasy.
Meanwhile, a group of slave servants carried away the poisoned body of a young boy, another victim of the deadly flowers that covered the Moon Kingdom’s walls. The flowers, innocent and harmless in appearance, were killers, taking lives in mere minutes if not treated instantly. The boy looked pale, barely breathing.
The boy’s parents, believing their son was dead, wailed in despair. “Oh, our son is gone!”
As they wept over his body, a druid-like priest suddenly appeared, startling the grieving parents.
The priest approached the boy, smelled the air, and recognized the familiar scent. He took the boy’s wrist, felt his pulse, and said, “Ah, perfect timing. The right meridian was pressed—this is the antidote!”
“What did you say?” the father asked, confused.
“Oh, don’t worry, his pulse is weak, but he’ll live! Just don’t bury him, or I’ll bury the two of you alive!” The priest chuckled.
“What are you doing? Get me some water, or this boy will die!” the priest ordered.
The parents barely heard anything beyond the words “he’ll live!” Overjoyed, they hurried to fetch water, leaving their son with the priest.
When the parents returned with a pail of water and a cup, the priest was gone, but their son was half-awake, recognizing them.
Back at Qinghai Palace, Zuo Zong delivered the news through secret channels. Ra Yue pretended not to know, but he smirked, relieved that the poisoned boy had survived. He trusted Zao Baocung to handle it. Since the boy was alive when he should have been dead, Ra Yue whispered to himself, “The dead should be buried—or better yet, escape.”
Zuo Zong, hearing his words, passed a secret stone to one of the slave servants, who quickly left to deliver it.
Zao Baocung received the stone, understood the message, and returned to the boy’s house. He warned the family to leave, or the Qinghai Crown Prince, Ra Yue, would kill them all.
Ra Yue’s actions would lead people to believe he was a mad prince—cold, ruthless, and heartless. But as the Master of the fourth branch of the Yuwen family in Wei, destined to inherit the Eyes of God, he knew how to appear cruel while secretly bringing mercy. He knew how to show no compassion, yet still deliver justice. He was neither a fake villain nor lacking in kindness. His gentlemanly nature set him apart from other princes. Ra Yue, once Yuwen Yue, was shaped by his dark past, but he was better now. There was nothing more one could ask for.
As the day drew on, Ra Yue continued to weaken the black vines. Now, they resembled a lush fern gully, a forest of vines.
Ra Yue whispered softly to Zuo Zong, “Do you think a forest fire will make the Gurus believe the Moon Kingdom is already reduced to ashes?”
Zuo Zong replied, “The Moon Kingdom is already burning inside. Do you want to show the smoke, a lake of fire, or dig a deep hole in the Ximeng earth and swallow the Gurus whole?”
Ra Yue smirked, secretly chuckling, and said, “I like the last option you mentioned.”
The Gurus, eager to hear their whispers, strained to listen.
Zuo Zong changed the subject, hiding his smile, and said, “Very well, Your Highness, the walls need to be burned!”
Ra Yue, thinking the same, asked firmly, “How are the matches and wood? Do we have enough fire to consume these iron walls? It’ll be a waste of time if the fire doesn’t bring them down.”
Zuo Zong nervously replied, “Please don’t cut off my head, Your Highness, I’m thinking like a fool!”
The Gurus murmured among themselves in their own language. Zuo Zong suspected they were plotting something.
Ra Yue, back to his stern look, swung his hand and whipped Zuo Zong’s stomach, eliciting an “Ouch!”
Zuo Zong stood still, faking seriousness despite his pain.
The Gurus, now fully attentive, said, “Your Highness, we have a new invention, stronger than matches and wood. We call it black powder. One matchstick, and the black powder will spread fire quickly.”
Ra Yue pretended to be interested, tricking them further. “Very well, bring me this black powder. I’d like to set these vines on fire quickly so we can all go home. What do you think?”
Someone lurking nearby overheard their conversation. The druid-like priest, hiding his face with a scarf, ran as fast as he could.
“Lou He, are you still lucid dreaming? Wake up!”
The next scene could not possibly bode well.
Ra Yue descended from his palanquin and unsheathed his Poe Yue Jian sword, cutting through one of the largest vines. Then, he removed his right hand from its white mitten, uprooted a small purple flower, and covered his face with his plum blossom-scented scarf—a secret he had shared only with Zuo Zong. All of his men followed suit, covering their faces, but some had already gone pale and collapsed. Zuo Zong had to count the fallen and order them to be removed.
The men stood frozen, watching Yuwen Yue carefully pick the small purple flowers and place them in a square bonsai pot. His nostrils, filled with the plum blossom scent, were immune to the deadly aroma of the flowers.
No one dared to move—not even the Gurus—only their eyes watched him in silence, their faces hidden behind scarves.
After the dramatic cutting and uprooting of the poisonous plants, no one could understand why Yuwen Yue was doing this or what surprise he had in store for them.
Without warning, Ra Yue threw a matchstick to the ground, where it ignited the black powder.
The black powder acted like a sponge, and within seconds, the entire ground was ablaze, leading to the unthinkable.
Lan Shuyi, dressed as if it were her last day on earth, positioned a horrifying woman in the middle of the tall forest vines. The woman appeared disheveled, drugged, her clothes torn, as though she had been beaten nearly to death and was about to be burned alive. Her breathing was shallow, but she could still see what was happening and shouted, “Young Master! Must you do this?”
It was too late.
Ra Yue had already seen the fire spread quickly across the black powder.
Suddenly, Ra Yue wanted to stop it, but no one could defy the flames or react quickly enough. His memories flashed before him—memories of the Eyes of God, of his Yuwen Yue days, as he heard echoes of the past:
“Slaves obey.”
“Illegal channels.”
“The walls have ears.”
“No one dares.”
“My palm.”
“My pulse.”
“I begged you, master, kill me!” His fifth brother had once begged him for death to honor the young master.
Now Yuwen Yue, seeing the woman, whispered softly, “Xinger…”
(Xinger, or Star Child, was the name Yuwen Yue had given to Chu Qiao when he found her in the Green Hills courtyard.)
Another figure, unable to hold back any longer, appeared from the shadows. Though the situation was dangerous, they showed no hesitation. Brave and valiant, they cut down the tallest vine and rescued the helpless woman.
Ra Yue watched as the figures, seemingly three people, walked away through the burning forest. Moments later, they vanished from his sight.
Ra Yue’s hands twitched, but he could not rescind his order. All he could do was watch as the humans burned in the forest fire. He looked angry at what he had witnessed, yet the Gurus finally approved of his plan, convinced it was working.
The citizens of Qinghai woke up that day to a scene of horror. A cloud of black smoke hung in the sky, and the black vines of the middle kingdom had been consumed by fire, revealing an enormous wall that nearly reached the heavens. The citizens could hardly describe the Moon Kingdom, as it had never been exposed like this until now. Some believed that breaching the Moon Kingdom’s walls would mean facing unspeakable horrors. For years, no one dared challenge the kingdom’s walls—until today. But where was the kingdom now? Why was it so quiet?
Queen Zhuejue received the spy report from the gorge. Her eyes were filled with reverie, gleaming with rosy anticipation. She imagined the Moon Kingdom within her grasp. After all her greedy, shadowy machinations, she was on the brink of uncovering its mysteries. This was her dream, the promise of better days ahead. With the Qinghai Crown Prince’s authority in handcuffs, the Queen held all the keys to the Moon Kingdom’s ultimate destruction.
“How are you, my love? Still feeling pain?”
These were the words Ra Zheng longed to say. But how could he, when he himself was consumed with pain? Still, the Silver Prince managed to rise from his bed to listen to the Eunuch’s report.
“My Lord, please stay in bed. You need to rest,” the Eunuch said, his face full of worry.
“How is Princess Xiao Ba?” Ra Zheng asked, his voice slow and strained.
“The Princess is still asleep, my Lord. Her bruises have been treated and medicated in time. She did not suffer any burns. Please, rest your concerns, my Lord.”
Ra Zheng, relieved by this, let out a painful chuckle, as though he were preparing to tell a story.
“Haha… ha…” (It was more a laugh of frustration than amusement.)
“This is all I can do now—lie here, wasting time because one foolish spy took matters into her own hands! I should have killed her for what she did to Xiao Ba!”
Ra Zheng clenched and unclenched his fists, looking as though he wanted to punch a wall.
The Eunuch hesitated but finally spoke. “My Lord, our defenses are not strong enough to hold the palace. If you kill your last secret spy for acting on her own, you might lose your only reliable defense and be forced to surrender to the Qinghai Queen. Please, stay indifferent for now. Punish her once this crisis is over.”
Softly spoken, the Eunuch nodded and quietly left the Silver Prince’s sight.
Ra Zheng thought over the Eunuch’s words. They made sense. He decided to change his course of action. Calling his personal royal guard, he said, “Take her out of the dungeon. Send her to her chamber, give her a dress and food.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Ra Yue obviously hadn’t slept well the previous night. He was haunted by thoughts of the three figures burned in the forest fire, a scene that had sparked memories of the Green Hills courtyard. Yuwen Yue recalled Ling Xi, Chu Qiao’s fifth brother. The memories flashed randomly in his mind, but what stayed was the soft cry of the woman held in the burning vines: “Young Master! Must you do this?”
Her voice echoed someone—someone dear and close to his heart, someone too precious to lose. He wanted to save her, to follow her every step of the way, to be with her even if it meant his death.
At that moment, Yuwen Yue felt like dying, like disappearing into the fire.
Yet, the present demanded his attention. He had to address the Qinghai citizens and demonstrate how evil the situation had become. He needed them to believe that he had no heart, no soul left to feel.
The Snow Crown Prince Ra Yue was ready to proceed. As cold as Qinghai’s snow-capped mountains, so was his heart. There was an iron wall to breach, and he knew that once he opened the Moon Kingdom to the Ximeng continent, there would be no turning back.
“This is not for the faint-hearted.”
“This is a fight without a fight.”
A voice from hell echoed, “When the Moon Kingdom walls break—though its gates are impossible to breach—we will not fight back. We will finish our invaders in their own fool’s paradise of a daydream!”
The Gurus’ chanting monks surrounded the outside walls of the Moon Kingdom, holding something no one could identify. They were dressed in such a way that no one could ever see their faces, for to see their faces was to see your own end.
Inside the iron walls, those who were trapped prepared for the worst. Earthy-dressed monks lined up, surrounding the iron walls, holding their singing bowls. They had stood there since the day before.
The druid-like priest was ready to fight anyone who stood in his way. Today, he was not there to heal but to fight for the peace and freedom they had long hungered for. In the absence of Chu Qiao and Lou He’s slumber, he would lead Viper and Zhong Yu to make their last stand.
Ra Yue, cold and uninvited, had to deliver a message, yet he remained speechless. The Qinghai citizens had been waiting for this moment to hear his voice, knowing full well what was about to happen. They began to hurl mocking words and show defiance toward the crown prince.
Anticipating this, Ra Yue had written down his words and nodded for the Eunuch to read them aloud to the people of Qinghai.
“To my Qinghai people, many years have passed, and I became deaf and blind to all of the Moon Kingdom’s actions that stretched the Sun Empire’s patience. The Moon Kingdom grappled with its lesser light to protect its people and went far to hide from the greater light’s scrutiny. Today, the Sun will overshadow the Moon, and the Moon may now rest without a definite time or any promises of revival. It all ends today, as the Sun rises from the darkest skies.”
Surprisingly, the crowd remained silent. No one dared utter a mocking word. Instead, they stared blankly, bracing themselves for the underworld’s leash. This destruction was not a polite knock but an invasion that would snatch away all living underworld beings. The wise thing was to stay hidden and unseen, for there was no other option.
As the Qinghai armies stood aside, the marching of feet slowed to a stop, until the last soldier stood still.
Then, a discordant sound rang out over a hum of chanting.
The Gurus felt the discord in their skin, but their chants overwhelmed the sound. The gates of the Moon Kingdom suddenly glowed and burst into flames.
The druid-like priest gave a final warning in a low, haunting tone, “Do not disturb the order! Do not step on the scales of balance, for you will surely be outweighed! Turn away, or we will be forced to subdue these intruders! Do not come near, or your souls will be haunted forever!”
But those with ears remained deaf to the discord and the haunting voice.
Yuwen Yue let the parrot drink the last drop of elixir from the celadon bottle, then freed the bird from his hand.
He softly whispered, “In these realms, you will be freed like a bird from a cage that locked up your soul. I have lived. Now, be free, Xinger.”
The druid-like priest was suddenly disturbed and murmured, “The chibi of the crown prince has healed!”
All of a sudden, a tired woman awoke to a dreamy reality. She opened her eyes to a swirling scene. A gust of wind lifted her upward in a pillar of cloud, awakening her senses.
It was a call to action.
A faraway cry of distress she could not ignore.
Chu Qiao woke up in a dream-like trance, stranded in another realm where she did not wish to stay.
A peasant girl appeared, showing her the last stick of incense that had burned down, then spoke.
“You have no power because it seems you were trapped by your own will. The decree you sealed cannot be undone, but Yuwen Yue’s call has confirmed the truth in all these realms. He remembers everything—your memories from the Green Hills courtyard, your last stand at the ice lake, your marriage on Xue Fu Street in Liang, your lodge in the forest, your reunion at the lantern festival, and your last meeting in the Ersatz Realm. His chibi has been removed, and he will take over the Moon Kingdom soon! Yuwen Yue remembered it all before the quarter incense stick of the Ersatz Realm burned out. And now, instead of you being suspended here for eternity, the reverse will happen.”
Chu Qiao received the Higanbana flower on her back. The light trickling down did not hurt her skin. Chu Qiao regained her powers but lost the Ersatz Realm forever.
The peasant girl, in tears, came closer and hugged her for the last time, whispering through her tears.
“We, the servants of the Ersatz Realm, will fade away like memories—memories you wish to recall but only find in dreams, then forget upon sunrise. We are all descending into the oblivion of time. The oracle states:
‘The underworld powers will be unleashed and spent. We will imprison those who dare to step into these realms to keep the balance hidden from man. Until then, my lady, or shall we call you… Xinger.'”
Chu Qiao, speechless, bestowed her approval and wished the peasant girl a silent blessing. In a soft, voiceless sound, she said, “Very well, until then.”
It was short, but it was vivid and filled with gratitude. Today, Chu Qiao faced a new dawn. She would meet Yuwen Yue not as Xinger, but in her true form—as the leader of the cloud and wind underworld spies.
Chapter 87 The World’s power
A man stood on top of a hill, slowly playing a futile tune on his flute, so mournful that the sorrow seemed to shatter his fingers, leaving them bloodied in his sight. To his eyes, the blood was meaningless as it dripped, to his ears, the tune was hollow, devoid of melody. To his touch, the flute was cold and distant, offering no warmth. His sword-like eyebrows had withered like the snow-capped mountains in the distance. His lips could no longer speak without anger and rage, and his heart would not allow him to make amends. Fate had cast him as “The World,” a king made by force, and through the sheer might of his formidable will, all bowed to him—Generals and slaves alike, not only obeying but perishing at his command. His quest for justice had bred ruthlessness, gnawing at his soul, consuming him from within.
So much blood had been spilled, so many wars fought, and so many friends betrayed. The absence of General Zhong Yu left Yan Xun with a void that no one could ever fill. When others proved unreliable, Zhong Yu had been his most trusted General, second only to A’Chu (Chu Qiao). She would lower herself to the rank of a servant to fulfill the Prince of Yanbei’s command. Her loyalty was beyond question, and A’Jing reminded him of this, but Yan Xun, deafened by revenge, chose not to listen. That day, he drank deeply from the cup of vengeance and turned on the General who had saved his life countless times. Zhong Yu, once the sharp blade of Yan, tempered in the fires of war, was discarded, losing her essence and value in an instant.
A’Jing, Yan Xun’s closest comrade, who cared deeply for Zhong Yu, almost like family, tried to make sense of the grim events and reconnect with Yanbei’s greater cause. He looked back to Shen Jing Gong palace, where the royal bloodlines of Yan were slaughtered in the name of loyalty, and revenge severed all ties. Yanbei fell—bloody, cold, and defenseless.
A’Jing could still vividly recall running through the palace corridors in a desperate attempt to save something, but it was too late. The only strength left was concentrated in Yan Xun, the Crown Prince, who had suffered unimaginable torment on Jiuyou Platform. What could be worse than having one’s royal status stripped away like a tattered piece of cloth?
Once, Yan Xun had been just an innocent boy—a six-year-old who volunteered as a tribute to the capital when all other Yanbei princes refused. His sword-like eyebrows stood tall, as if he bore the weight of the world. That day, he answered the call and became “The World,” affirming his father’s loyalty to the Great Summer Throne. Yan Xun left Yanbei, never looking back, a lamb offered for slaughter to save his people and family. It was true when Yan Xun said, “The gods have never had mercy on me.”
Today, A’Jing faced the harsh reality that Yan Xun was no longer the innocent boy who valued brotherly love or loyalty. Before the sword of Yanbei’s justice, everyone must fall—everyone except Xiaolong’s Blade.
He whispered to himself, “Not even A’Yu, A’Chu, or Wu Dao Ya.”
“A’Yu, how can I make amends?” A’Jing’s voice trembled, as the weight of his emotions left him feeling frail and human. His tearless eyes stared blankly at the cold expanse of the Yanbei Plateau. Without realizing it, the sun had already set, and the twilight painted the sky like an abstract masterpiece. It seemed as though the heavens offered a fleeting moment of beauty, a reward to those who had endured the day. But A’Jing couldn’t appreciate it, the sunset’s fire-red hues lost on him.
He stood behind Yan Xun, countless words caught in his throat, yet none seemed worth speaking. “These words are useless,” he finally muttered, “they carry no weight.”
Suddenly, Yan Xun crushed the flute in his hands, fresh blood dripping from his palms. But the King showed no sign of pain. He tossed the flute aside and said softly, “Yes, all is useless once you understand the cold truth of what a King must do. After all her loyalty, I granted General Yu a swift death. I forgot she too might have sought justice for herself.”
“To make matters irreparable,” Yan Xun added, his voice hardening, “award her the title of ‘Traitor of Yanbei.’ Let her body be forgotten, without a memorial tablet to honor her. It’s all meaningless.”
Meanwhile, in Yanbei’s war room, a voice cut through the tension: “Report!”
“The World, we have intelligence from a ground spy. Qinghai is trying to destroy its own land.”
“What?!”
Yan Xun’s sword-like eyes flared with fury. “Why would they destroy their own land? What madness is this?”
“The World, it concerns the Moon Kingdom—”
Before the lieutenant could finish, a sharp blade pressed against his throat, and a cold voice warned, “If you dare tell me another bedtime story, I’ll slit your throat and let you lick your own blood!”
Yan Xun’s rage subsided as he laughed darkly. “Legends and myths? I don’t believe in any of that nonsense. The only thing I trust is my sword.”
He slowly unsheathed his Xiaolong sword, running his fingers along its cold steel as he stared into its reflection. The lieutenant shivered but forced himself to speak. “Your Highness, I can take you to the Thousand Caves. There, we might find proof of the Moon Kingdom’s existence. Though it has long been dismissed as a myth, whispered among gypsies, nomads, and spiritual healers, rumors of the lost King Chu Teng Gao persist. Qinghai denies it, but the evidence is emerging.”
Yan Xun paused at the mention of the name “Chu,” memories from his imprisonment flooding back. The name held great significance.
“You want to die, don’t you?” Yan Xun said, chuckling.
“Please, Your Highness, have mercy! No one in the camp wanted to report this, not even me. It’s not military in nature, but every time we infiltrate Qinghai, we find the same information.”
At the mention of General Chu, Yan Xun’s mood shifted again. He touched the sharp edge of his sword and murmured, “I should kill you here, but I think I’ll delay that pleasure.”
“Your Highness, please,” the lieutenant pleaded, trembling. “I didn’t mean to refer to General Chu. May she rest in peace.” The lieutenant stammered, unsure of what he had brought to the surface, realizing he had touched on far more complicated matters than he understood.
an Xun looked down at the Chief Lieutenant, who remained in a kowtow position, his head buried on the ground. Yan Xun’s foxy eyes, once fierce, now carried a hint of a childish aura—the same aura that once softened the King of Yanbei.
“A’Chu… who dares? Who are you to bring this matter before me?” Yan Xun’s fierceness vanished as his voice softened to a near whisper. He continued, as if speaking more to himself than to the lieutenant, “General Chu died in the battle for Prince Zaru. I buried her in the Xiu Xui Mountains and dedicated a memorial tablet in her honor. But then… your Queen of Yanbei—jealous of A’Chu—claimed I had buried a fake. She told me it was not the real A’Chu but her double, Xia Chong, whom she had imprisoned in Liang State. I never had time to recover or validate the truth. Your Queen was captured that very day and became a prisoner of war in Qinghai’s camp.”
Yan Xun’s voice slowed, as if the memories unfolded before him like it all happened yesterday. “Later, someone resembling General Chu became the Empress Dowager in Liang State, saving Emperor Xiao Ce from death, but she disappeared soon after, throwing Daoming Palace into chaos. Then came Zhan Ziyu, leader of the afterlife death camp. He emerged from the shadows, killing my mother-in-law—the Queen of Yanbei—while she lay dying in my arms. And this Lord of Qinghai, who slipped away during the enthronement with his guards…” Yan Xun’s voice trailed off.
Pausing, he turned to the Chief Lieutenant and asked, “You know very well how Yuwen Yue’s bodyguard, Yue Qi, was killed during the icy lake tragedy, don’t you?”
The Chief Lieutenant replied, “Yes, Your Highness. I gave you the bow and the famed Yan white-feathered arrows aimed at his heart to weaken the heir of the Eyes of God.”
Yan Xun’s voice turned cold. “And you saw with your own eyes how Yue Qi, his formidable guard, fell and died. But it seems that day never happened. Everyone saw him alive, cutting through enemies in a killing spree. Tell me, do the dead rise from their graves? Explain this to me!” Yan Xun shouted, his voice trembling with anger, his face twisted in disbelief.
“And then there’s this girl with a whip… they call her Viper. She leaped into the middle of the enthronement like a civet cat! The audacity!” Yan Xun sneered. “I think I’ve seen her around General Chu, acting as her trusted aide and spy. Even when I requested Deputy General He Xiao to provide information on her, he found nothing.”
Yan Xun’s expression darkened as he continued, “Where was I during all this? I was held under arrest by Liang’s forces, thanks to Sun Di, who imprisoned both the King and Queen of Yanbei in the palace! Do you realize how important these events are?”
He leaned in, eyes burning with intensity. “Explain to me how the enthronement turned into an ambush, with dead bodies strewn about and the royal family placed under arrest. And now you’re telling me about this ‘Moon Kingdom’—an empire that doesn’t even exist on any map?”
Yan Xun sat back, his hand still gripping his sword, the blade gleaming in the dim light. His eyes, filled with disgust, hinted at the violence he was holding back. He stared at the Chief Lieutenant, waiting for answers, unsure whether he would spare him or strike him down.
The Chief Lieutenant, sensing the weight of the moment, remained motionless. He knew the King needed answers, but he also knew that no one had a clear explanation for the strange events surrounding General Chu. The real and fake versions of her seemed to appear and disappear at will, their whereabouts impossible to trace. Even the powerful Xuili Army had shielded her so thoroughly that even the King of Yanbei could not uncover the truth.
The Chief Lieutenant cautiously raised his head to meet Yan Xun’s gaze. He saw a weary yet handsome king, waiting impatiently for his report. “Your Highness, you met the real Chu Qiao at the Battle of Yangmingguan Pass. She’s alive, and well. She rode into battle on her horse, challenging you alone. She pointed her sword at your neck and could have ended your life in an instant, but you didn’t retaliate. We were all waiting for your command to shoot, but your hands… they never moved. Your Majesty, the soldiers noticed. They wondered if we were in the midst of a battle or a reunion. No arrows were fired. No spears were thrown. The Yanbei military, the brightest of our forces, stood down that day. The Xuili Army retreated, and not a single drop of blood was spilled. It was as if you recognized her… like a king hypnotized by the beauty of a fox spirit.”
Yan Xun’s mind drifted back to that day, the weight of A’Chu’s presence filling his thoughts. He remembered how everything began in the Celestial prison garrison in Wei, how she had kept him alive, urging him: “Even if it’s like a dog’s life, live it.”
Those words, carved into his heart, stayed with him, even through the torment of the Jiuyou Platform. He recalled A’Chu’s desperate cries for him, her voice cutting deeper than the wounds inflicted by the Wei guards. Every time she screamed his name, “Yan Xun!” his humanity faded, replaced by the instincts of a rabid beast, desperate for vengeance. No man had endured the suffering he had, but the blood of Yan’s nobility depended on his survival.
Time passed, and Yan Xun’s expression shifted, a hint of dark humor crossing his face. “You deserve to die,” he said to the Chief Lieutenant, his voice low and dangerous. “But not today. I’ll punish you before killing you if I find out you’ve deceived me with this tale of an empire in Qinghai that doesn’t exist on any map.”
The dark sky echoed with the silent passing of the moon through the clouds.
The death of A’Chu on the battlefield had stripped Yan Xun of the last vestiges of emotion. Since that moment, he had trusted no one—not Zhong Yu, not Wu Dao Ya. Wu Dao Ya, seeking to protect Zhong Yu, had gone into hiding, pretending to be busy reorganizing the Datong Way. The last time Wu Dao Ya was seen, he attended a secret banquet for the Datong, welcoming new members and orienting them on how the group operated. Afterward, ninety wealthy lords of Yanbei met occasionally at Pengcheng harbor, near Liang State. They continued to amass wealth, shoveling gold and rebuilding Yanbei’s ruined cities. Through the Datong Way, they financed the restoration of Yanbei’s palaces and architectural landmarks, devastated by the Blackguards’ attack. Yan Xun lived in luxury, benefiting from the commerce and taxes they collected in Wei and Liang States, while his people toiled to rebuild what had been lost.
In all of Yanbei’s splendor, its recaptured cities, and countless bloody battles, to whom do we owe gratitude for its success today?
A woman dressed in regal white once said, “The Yan would rather bleed than weep.”
She smiled bitterly at the last wounded, nearly dead prince of Yanbei, an unrecognizable figure riddled with arrows, covered in deep wounds and fatal cuts. Taken hostage in her own house, stripped of her royal status as the Great Summer’s Eldest Sister, Bai Sicheng sealed the fate of Yan that day. Dancing her way to death, she faced the Jiuyou Platform with hatred and courage, naming all the executed members of the Yan royal family, beginning with her husband, Yan Sicheng—the Duke of Wei’s Northwestern territory, who had defended the Emperor tirelessly when he was but a 17-year-old prince. Yan Ting, Commandant of the Xuili Army, Yan Xiao, Commandant of Gallantry, and the only princess of Yanbei, Yan Hongxiao, who died pregnant with her unborn child—all were honored heroes of the past, now marked as traitors.
Bai Sicheng, looking back, recited all of their contributions to the Empire—their noble deeds, their sacrifices. Once hailed as heroes, that day they were condemned as traitors. With cold defiance, she ordered Yuwen Yue to throw the golden boxes of their accolades into the furnace, casting a scornful look and disregarding Yuwen Huai’s authority as the Master Executioner. This single act paved the way for Yan Xun to survive, sparing him from the same grim fate as his family. The Emperor’s pardon granted a lifeline to Yan Xun, allowing him to escape royal execution.
The world may never fully understand whether justice was served that day, whether it was truly about protecting Wei’s national interest or whether the Emperor was merely a pawn in his enemies’ schemes. Yuwen Huai, Chief Execution Officer, provoked and tormented Yan Xun, inflicting a pain that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Yet, it was Yuwen Yue, second in command, who subtly and strategically intervened, using every method at his disposal to buy more time and keep Yan Xun alive.
Yuwen Yue’s sharp mind and keen eyes never wavered, even as he stood ready to use his own body as a shield, prepared to take the arrows meant for the weakened prince of Yanbei. The archers, their hands trembling, hesitated to shoot as Yuwen Yue stepped in to block the attack. Through it all, Yuwen Yue engaged in an intense verbal battle with Yuwen Huai, enduring taunts, insults, and provocations in front of the lifeless bodies of Yan Xun’s family and the watching Zhao and Wei clans. Yuwen Huai relished in Yuwen Yue’s torment, knowing his cousin was powerless under his command.
Despite his twitching palms and the sweat on his brow, Yuwen Yue remained calm, his composure masking the excruciating turmoil within. Two people he held dear—Xing’er and Yan Xun—stood on the platform, their lives in his hands. As second in command, Yuwen Yue was bound by duty, unable to openly defy Yuwen Huai, but determined to find a way to protect them both.
In that moment, Yuwen Yue knew that one wrong move, one emotional outburst, could doom them all. If he acted recklessly, if he revealed his true feelings or led an ill-timed revolt, he would be the first to die. His death would leave no one to protect Xing’er and Yan Xun in the chaos that would follow. Yuwen Yue understood the delicate balance he had to maintain. He had to be calm, calculated, and objective, for only then could he seize the chance to save them from their cruel fates.
Yan Xun never fully understood Yuwen Yue’s actions on the Jiuyou Platform, nor did he take the time to reflect on them or validate Yuwen Yue’s motivations. As his closest friend and confidant, Yan Xun had expected Yuwen Yue to act decisively on his behalf, especially since Xing’er’s life was also at stake. However, Yuwen Yue’s focus had been on saving the dying prince of Yanbei, with the hope of securing Xing’er’s freedom from her slave status within the Yuwen Household. But could that freedom still be granted? Xing’er had avenged the deaths of her sisters and brother by killing Yuwen Xi, the grandfather of Yuwen Huai—a grave offense. Killing a high-ranking official of the Yuwen household was no minor crime, and no matter Yuwen Yue’s intentions, Xing’er would ultimately fall into his hands.
As the head of the Fourth Branch of the Yuwen Household, Yuwen Yue’s role was to gather intelligence and serve as the empire’s repository of information. In contrast, the Third Branch, led by Yuwen Huai, controlled the Slave Chamber Pavilion, a place of unimaginable torture, further escalated by Yuwen Xi’s Jile Pavilion, or “Death of Pleasure Pavilion,” where maids who broke the laws of the Yuwen and Wei Empire were subjected to gruesome punishment.
Yuwen Yue, the true spymaster, had the power to decide the fates of all within the empire, be they slaves, commoners, or royals. As he once described, the heir to the “Eyes of God” lived in a cage constructed by Mohist masters—a maze of lures, traps, schemes, and deception. Yuwen Yue longed to break free from this cage and achieve his own freedom. Little did he know that the tragedy at the icy lake would set these events in motion.
Reflecting on the past, it became clear that Yuwen Yue’s goals did not align with Yan Xun’s expectations. Yan Xun refused to accept or even contemplate the reality that the entire fate of Qingshan and Hongshan courtyards, and indeed the survival of the Yuwen nobles, depended on Yuwen Yue and Yuwen Huai carrying out the execution of the Yan royal family.
With the involvement of two of the Yuwen Household’s most powerful figures, it was their duty to the empire to carry out an execution befitting royals who had committed treason—a scenario orchestrated by Yuwen Huai and Princess Xiao Yu.
In truth, it was all planned by none other than Xiao Yu, Princess of Liang and the master of the Skyshadow Spies. She used Yuwen Huai’s ambition for power, tempting him with promises of glory, and swayed him to become her ally. Her connection to the Third Branch of the Yuwen Household went back to Yuwen Huai’s grandfather, Yuwen Xi, who had once fallen victim to the blackmail of the Liang Princess.
Years passed, and Yan Xun remained confined within Wei. One day, out of the blue, the old Duke of Yanbei sent Yan Xun a letter through General Zhong Yu. The letter contained a simple yet profound request: to secretly travel to Yanbei, with Zhong Yu serving as his royal escort. The arrangements for the Crown Prince’s return to Yanbei were entrusted entirely to Zhong Yu. She often referred to him as the “Hostaged Prince,” for it was Yan Xun’s detained status in Wei that had ensured peace for Yanbei and the favor of the Great Summer Emperor. However, that peace ended the day Yan Xun responded to his father’s letter, driven by a deep respect and longing for the endless grasslands of Yanbei.
Yan Xun’s response letter was written with great caution. He knew that stirring the calm waters could reveal the murky depths beneath. Despite his years of restraint, something changed that day, and he ordered Zhong Yu to deliver the letter.
Zhong Yu, aware that Yan Xun’s palace was not safe, sent two versions of the letter. The first was dispatched through a bird courier to mislead the spies; the second was delivered through a secret channel arranged by none other than Yuwen Yue and Yan Xun. This covert assistance from Yuwen Yue was a sign of the special treatment Yan Xun received—a matter so delicate that even the Emperor was kept in the dark.
Meanwhile, a Skyshadow spy named Tao Ye intercepted the bird courier and captured the letter. But Zhong Yu, anticipating this, had used the bird as bait, quickly replacing the original with a fake letter. The bird was then released, as if nothing had happened. Unbeknownst to the spies, another pair of eyes was watching—not a spy, but someone tasked with monitoring Zhong Yu’s movements and reporting them to his master.
Jiang He, the observer, reported the incident to his master, Dong Fangyi. Without wasting time, Dong Fangyi penned another letter, using a forged seal of Yan Xun. As he did, he muttered to himself, “They say I’m crooked, always trying to assist an emperor, but it seems I’ve been wrong all along. Ten years of effort, and what have I learned? Nothing.”
Jiang He listened as his master continued, “Shall I send someone to personally deliver this letter to the Duke of Yanbei?”
Dong Fangyi responded, “No, I’ll deliver it myself.”
The second party swiftly returned to headquarters, evading all the strategies laid in Greenhills Courtyard, and finally arrived at the Eyes of God repository. Yuwen Yue received the original letter from Yan Xun, bearing the true seal. Silently, Yuwen Yue read the letter, knowing that Yan Xun trusted him to decide whether to deliver it to his father or hold it back.
Yuwen Yue made the difficult decision to write a new version of the letter and burn the original. This choice was not approved by Yan Xun, but Yuwen Yue acted on his own judgment, believing that delivering the letter could bring disaster to Yan Xun and throw Yanbei into chaos. Yuwen Yue understood all too well that the letter could be used as a weapon against Yan Xun, potentially leading to bloodshed and irreversible consequences.
Yuwen Yue’s wisdom had been honed and cultivated since birth, guiding him in his role as both strategist and decision-maker. On that fateful day, his actions were driven by three clear goals. Two served the empire, while the third—protecting Yan Xun at all costs—was a personal instinct that he could not ignore.
Yuwen Yue’s fondness for the Prince of Yanbei was evident, though silent. He could not openly show his emotions or lose control, especially as Xing’er was entangled in Yan Xun’s life, a complication that further restrained him. As the Master of the Eyes of God, he had to maintain his composure and fulfill his duty to the empire, no matter how deeply he cared. Yet despite his stoic nature, Yuwen Yue had feelings—he could not escape the weight of his emotions.
With his empire’s elite spies at his disposal, Yuwen Yue took control of the situation, aiming to prevent clashes between empires and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Acting as a counterintelligence spymaster, his two primary goals were simple: first, to frustrate Liang’s Skyshadow Spies, and second, to protect the integrity of the Eyes of God while excluding Yuwen Huai’s involvement, which would have jeopardized the entire Yuwen clan in the Shen Jin Gong Palace court.
The third goal, however, was personal—protecting Yan Xun’s life. It was an unspoken mission, one he would never admit to openly. Yet during the icy lake tragedy, Yuwen Yue went beyond his usual detachment, risking everything for the prince. His actions came at great personal cost, not only endangering his own life but also pulling Xing’er into a precarious situation. Reflecting on the events in meditation, Yuwen Yue angrily replayed the scenario in his mind, whispering, “Repeat.”
In his meditative state, he envisioned himself as the Master of the Eyes of God, burdened by his revered position. The weight of Qingshan and Hongshan Courtyards, and the looming threat of the imperial edict from Wei, hung over him like a storm. Yuwen Yue knew that, in the larger scheme of things, he was always at a disadvantage, trapped by forces beyond his control.
As the unpredictable tide of events played out in his reflections, Yuwen Yue foresaw the dangers but resolved to act in the moment, avoiding the brewing storm. His hope was to extricate Xing’er from the deadly game being played between the two empires, both of which were driven by bloodthirsty cycles of vengeance. He knew only a Yuwen heir, skilled in strategy and discretion, could manage such a delicate situation, making everything appear normal on the surface while handling the crisis beneath.
However, the reality was that Yuwen Yue could not control every aspect of the unfolding events. Xing’er left Qingshan Courtyard, joining forces with Yan Xun and helping him revolt against the Great Summer Throne. In his moments of reflection, Yuwen Yue considered giving in to the harsh truth—his power had limits, and the stakes were too high. Yet he trusted his instincts, hoping against hope that Yan Xun would not succumb to the darkness of revenge. But deep down, he feared Yan Xun might use Xing’er as a pawn, a bait to avenge the slaughter of the Yan royal family.
Yuwen Yue rejected this thought, convinced that Yan Xun was not born to think in such base terms. He believed the prince was better than that. Yet, despite his belief, the unthinkable happened—Yuwen Yue found himself in a situation he had never anticipated, exhausting more effort than he was willing to give. He had placed Xing’er in danger, and the icy lake tragedy unfolded as a result of his miscalculations.
Despite his forethought and meticulous planning, Yuwen Yue bet everything on the chance that “what if” would not occur. He wrote a fake letter to the Duke of Yanbei, Yan Sicheng, sternly warning him not to march toward Chang’an. Everyone knew that without the Emperor’s edict, no one could dare to show military force in the capital. Any such action would be seen as rebellion, and Yanbei would be accused of acting independently, capturing Chang’an and challenging the authority of the Wei empire.
In making this judgment call, Yuwen Yue drew on his deep understanding of Yan Xun and his father, having known them since childhood. He crafted the letter using a code that only Yan Sicheng could decode, ensuring its authenticity. A rider from the Yuwen household set off toward the grasslands of Yanbei, carrying the crucial message.
But Yuwen Yue’s carefully orchestrated plan had only a fifty-fifty chance of success. The road to Yanbei was harsh and cold, and the possibility of interception by enemy spies loomed large. Yuwen Yue had no backup plan, and unknown to the Duke, General Dong, a trusted adviser to Yan Sicheng, was secretly disloyal. General Dong, whose mysterious origins paralleled those of Wu Dao Ya, was not fully aligned with the Datong Way. Though both men shared the common goal of establishing Yanbei as a land of freedom, their paths diverged.
General Dong and Wu Dao Ya walked parallel yet separate paths in their efforts to secure Yanbei’s future as a land free from slavery, imperial rule, and the tyranny of the strong over the weak. Their ideal was a world of equality, where no one was oppressed based on birth, and the lines between nobility and commoners were erased. It was a dream of a world without bullying, where revenge and violence no longer tore families apart.
This ideal world seemed like the distant dream of a child. Yet, in the ruthless game of power and survival, Yuwen Yue knew that dreams alone could not prevent the cycle of revenge and bloodshed that had shaped Yanbei and the empire for so long.
The letter bearing Yuwen Yue’s forged seal of Yan Xun finally arrived in the hands of Yan Scicheng. After reading it, Yan Scicheng shared the contents with his trusted adviser, Dong Fangyi. As they discussed the matter, Dong Fangyi, ever calculating, skillfully diverted the Duke’s attention. He hinted at a rumor, luring Yan Scicheng into believing a dangerous gossip: he claimed to have witnessed Liang spies intercepting Yan Xun’s letter via the bird courier near the Wei border.
Dong Fangyi, always persuasive, suggested that the letter had been tampered with and rewritten by the spies. In truth, however, the letter was authored by Yuwen Yue, containing subtle warnings about the trouble ahead, coded in Yan Xun’s writing style to alert his father. But Dong Fangyi spun his own version, driving a wedge between Yan Scicheng and his son’s true intentions.
Hearing this, Yan Scicheng made an impulsive decision—he resolved to travel to Chang’an, meet with Yan Xun, and rescue his son from captivity. This wasn’t just a simple reunion. It was a bold, dangerous move—an act of defiance. Yan Scicheng, confident in his perceived immunity, mocked the Emperor’s authority, saying, “What can they do about me?”
Dong Fangyi, secretly loathing the Duke, feigned concern and replied, “That is a bad idea, Your Highness.” But deep down, Dong Fangyi was pleased, knowing that Yan Scicheng’s reckless actions would lead to disaster.
Tired of waiting and inaction, Yan Scicheng’s determination grew. “I will write to the Emperor,” he declared, “and this time, I won’t back down. What must be done should be done, even if they have to kill me. They must stay away from my son!”
Dong Fangyi, still hiding his disdain, offered false reassurances. “Well, we must be prepared.” In reality, he was orchestrating the Duke’s demise.
With Dong Fangyi’s assistance, Yan Scicheng set out for Chang’an, leading a military escort from Yanbei. His journey, however, would end in tragedy—he fell into a deadly trap orchestrated by Yuwen Huai.
Before these events unfolded, Yuwen Huai and Princess Xiao Yu had already struck a deal. The day after their arrangement, Yuwen Huai, with sinister precision, manipulated the situation. He persuaded the Emperor to visit a site near the ancient temple of Wei’s ancestors, where a group was seen ferrying a large stone tablet. Inscribed on the stone were the words: “Wei is dying, Yanbei will rule the world.”
The Emperor, upon seeing this, flew into a rage. He ordered Yuwen Huai to kowtow in shame and, in his fury, struck Yuwen Huai’s back. “This is your gift!” the Emperor spat. He immediately commanded that all those involved in carrying the stone tablet be arrested and executed for treason.
Turning to his council, the Emperor summoned the Wei Valve Masters. He demanded an explanation for this perceived rebellion. “Is this heaven’s warning to me?”
Wei Guang, one of the council members, responded, “We should find the perpetrator and punish them immediately.”
Another advisor, Zhao Gui, agreed, “I stand with Wei Guang.”
The Emperor’s anger deepened. “I trusted him,” he fumed, referring to Yan Scicheng. “I gave his son a good life, better treatment than any other royal, and this is how he repays me? With rebellion?”
Yuwen Yue had foreseen this. It was exactly the scenario he had predicted would unfold in the Great Summer Palace—the Emperor, manipulated and brainwashed, convinced that Yanbei had turned against him.
Meanwhile, Yuwen Yue was still in the process of gathering intelligence on two key figures in Yanbei—Wu Dao Ya and Dong Fangyi, known as General Dong. His sources were unreliable, and the information surrounding these two generals was cloaked in secrecy. Yuwen Yue was also aware of Lou He, and through his private conversations with Imperial Concubine Ning’er, he uncovered more about her daughter—Chu Qiao.
Yuwen Yue had learned that Chu Qiao, after a great fall from a cliff, had lost her memory and roamed the Ximeng continent. Since that day, she had vanished, leaving behind only stories. Her mysterious disappearance weighed heavily on Yuwen Yue, adding another layer to the intrigue.
Back in Yanbei, Yan Xun remained unaware of the entire picture. His failure to notice the finer details, the small yet critical pieces of information, had cost lives—deaths that could have been prevented with greater caution.
The restoration of Yanbei’s endless grasslands, the gathering of the World’s power, was underway. But would this dream lead to true freedom, or would it only perpetuate the cycle of revenge and the brutal system of slavery that had plagued the empire for so long?
Chapter 88
Castling
The Pavilion of Mourning
In the secluded and sacred Datong Way Pavilion, the atmosphere was thick with the weight of loss. Flickering candlelight danced along the stone walls adorned with waves that flowed like serpents, casting shadows that seemed alive. The soft whispers of prayers echoed through the hall, though in truth, no one knew if those prayers would ever be answered. The smell of incense welled up high, swirling like lost spirits seeking comfort under a smoke-filled veil.
This hidden sanctuary had seen the greatest mourning of all—the tragic death of Master Wu Dao Ya. Revered leader of the Xian Yang Chamber of Commerce, or as it was once known, the Leader of the Datong Way, his brutal demise sent shockwaves through the elite families of Yanbei. His passing plunged the members into fragility and instability, for no one had anticipated such a violent end.
In the heart of the pavilion, a grand portrait of Wu Dao Ya towered above fresh bouquets, each flower a token from the wealthiest lords of Yanbei. Their expressions were a mix of grief and apprehension. Wu’s death left a power vacuum, an unsettling realization that disturbed the delicate balance he had painstakingly forged. Without his steady hand, Yanbei was vulnerable.
Rumors swirled that the dreaded history of the Datong Way was about to repeat itself—a time when a man had left no survivor to tell the tale as he brought down the ruling clans of Lui Xi, Ouyang, and others. Now, a similar fate seemed poised to return.
The Impenetrable Pavilion
The Datong Way Pavilion was no ordinary place. To enter was not a simple task, and one had to be cautious. Disrespect or carelessness could seal one’s fate. The pavilion’s location was obscured, and even its own members could barely track it. Blindfolded agents were led through swinging doors and shifting hallways, designed to confuse and disorient even the most seasoned household members. The ritual of entry was guarded by strict codes, failure to follow them meant no escape from the deadly consequences.
Each day, a new password, whispered from Yanbei’s military camps, further ensured the secrecy and safety of the pavilion. It was a fortress, both physical and metaphysical, sheltering the hidden truths within its walls.
Days turned into weeks, and the vigils for Wu Dao Ya’s death stretched beyond nights into seemingly endless anticipation. There was a collective hope for the arrival of Yan Xun, but each time his coming was rumored, only A’Jing, his servant, appeared—now a shadow of his former self. Once lively and dedicated, A’Jing had become hollow, his eyes empty, haunted by the loss of his master. Though grief-stricken, he remained bound to his servanthood, clinging to the honor he sought in serving a master who was no longer there.
Yan Xun’s absence was palpable. Though he was the rightful successor, he had done little to step into Wu Dao Ya’s formidable shoes. The machinery of the Datong Way continued to spin without his direction, leaving a sense of limbo. Yan Xun, once full of ambition and dreams of reform for the entire Ximeng Continent, had turned his focus inward, concerned only with the survival of Yanbei.
The Dream of Datong
Inside the pavilion, one of the generals recited the foundational values of the Datong Way, his voice calm and measured:
“Leaders should govern with righteousness, so that the people’s well-being prospers.
Humanity should practice love and respect, and may selfishness be extinguished by the greater good.
All creatures must be freed from the dark fogs of crime, poverty, and social unrest.”
These were the ideals of the Datong Way—a philosophical vision grounded in Confucian ethics. It was more than just a system of governance; it was the dream of a compassionate society, where equality and justice reigned supreme. It was a vision of a utopia that Yanbei had long dreamed of—a society built on freedom, fairness, and the well-being of all.
But now, with Wu Dao Ya gone and Yan Xun distant, these lofty ideals hung in the balance. Could the dream of Datong survive, or would it crumble into history like so many failed visions of the past?
As the death of Master Wu Dao Ya left a vacuum within the Datong Way, the greater world outside Yanbei teetered on the brink of monumental change. The once-mighty Wei Empire, which had ruled the Ximeng Continent for thousands of years, now stood at the edge of collapse. The imperial dynasty, once considered unshakable, was facing internal decay, rebellion, and foreign threats. The empire’s decline became the rallying point for underground forces and spies, who now placed their hopes in Yanbei, seeing it as a potential force to overthrow the crumbling Wei.
Yan Xun, the last of the Yan’s imperial bloodline, was expected to seize the opportunity. With veins tracing back to the Wei emperors, his claim to power was undeniable. Many believed his ascension to leadership in this chaotic world was not only inevitable but essential for the survival of Yanbei and for restoring order to the continent.
The Unexpected Shift
But history, ever unpredictable, began to spin counterclockwise, defying all expectations. Even the most secretive Jianghu spies, and the deeply embedded underworld operatives, who prided themselves on having eyes and ears everywhere, were caught off guard by the sudden shifts in power.
What no one could have foreseen was the rise of a new movement—a force that emerged not from the traditional centers of power, but from the periphery, born out of the ideals of freedom. This new force called itself the Freedom Community, and it quickly gained a following.
The Rise of the Freedom Community
The Freedom Community championed values that were radical to the existing power structures of the Ximeng Continent. It advocated for freedom of speech, religion, and press. It called for the protection of private property and elected governance by the rule of law—concepts that directly challenged the authoritarian and imperial traditions that had long dominated the continent.
This movement had an unlikely origin. It rose from the ashes of a lost prince—the newly crowned prince of Qinghai, a realm thought too fractured to pose any real threat. Yet, this prince possessed a unique vision. He had a natural ability to unite the scattered tribes and broken political factions that had once been on the verge of collapse. His rise was nothing short of phenomenal, and it sent shockwaves through the continent.
The prince’s strength came not only from his ability to unify the disparate groups but also from the long-buried secrets he carried—truths that had been hidden for generations within the Moon Kingdom, his ancestral homeland. These were secrets deliberately kept from the people, truths that had cursed the Moon Kingdom’s citizens for centuries. The curse had blinded them, keeping them under the control of oppressive rulers and preventing their redemption. Now, with the secrets revealed, the lost prince aimed to liberate the Moon Kingdom and, in doing so, inspire the rest of the Ximeng Continent.
He was more than just a leader of a political movement. He was a symbol of hope—a man who believed in individual autonomy and social responsibility. His mission was to lead the people into a future free from tyranny and oppression.
The Light of Freedom
Under his leadership, the Freedom Community flourished. His ideals of governance rejected interference and dominance, promoting instead a society where peace and stability could reign over the once-darkened lands. The Freedom Community’s rise was swift, and its influence spread across the Ximeng Continent, bringing with it a new dawn of hope.
Bathed in the light of freedom, the prince and his community set out to reshape the continent, challenging both the decaying Wei Empire and the old power structures like the Datong Way. They offered an alternative vision of governance—one that promised equality, justice, and the empowerment of the people.
The Abyss of the Underworld
While the world above braced for change, far below, the dark expanse of the Underworld Realm stretched endlessly before Yuwen Yue. The landscape was twisted—jagged cliffs and flickering shadows stretched over a barren, lifeless expanse. In this forsaken domain, time held no meaning, and neither did life. It was a place of eternal night, consumed by an overwhelming darkness.
At the gate of this forgotten realm stood Scarface, the Underworld’s gatekeeper. His figure was tall, brooding, shrouded in the very shadows that consumed the land. Yuwen Yue approached with measured steps, the ancient Poe Yue Jian sword glowing faintly at his side—a remnant of the Moon Kingdom’s power, its silver gleam a strange contrast to the endless night of the Underworld.
Scarface’s hood obscured his scarred face, but his bitterness was palpable. He had spent years guarding the gates, consumed by the shame of his defeat, haunted by the memories of betrayal. It had been years since Yuwen Yue and Scarface’s paths had crossed, but the wound of that betrayal remained fresh between them.
“You’ve come far, Ra Yue,” Scarface rasped, using Yuwen Yue’s princely name from Qinghai. His voice dripped with resentment. “But even a crown prince has no place here. The Abyss isn’t a realm for the living.”
Yuwen Yue met his words with cold resolve. “I didn’t come here by choice. Fate has brought us together again,” he replied, his voice calm and emotionless.
Beneath his hood, Scarface’s scar twisted into a sneer. His once-beautiful face was now marred—a permanent reminder of his defeat by Tracker, who had cast him into this wretched existence. For centuries, Scarface had drawn the good into evil with his beauty, but that power was now poisoned. His bitterness toward Yuwen Yue and Tracker boiled beneath the surface.
“You’ve come to end this, haven’t you?” Scarface spat, his voice thick with disgust. “But Tracker betrayed you too, didn’t he? He crossed the forgotten river, left his humanity behind, and in the end, he betrayed even you!”
Yuwen Yue’s lips curled slightly, but his expression remained cold. “Tracker’s betrayal runs deep, but his destruction is inevitable. He’s consumed by his own deceit. I’ve come to end the cycle of vengeance.”
Scarface’s eyes gleamed with hatred. “You think you can end it? Tracker isn’t who he was. He’s risen to the top of the Underworld, consumed by his own power. He’ll destroy everyone, including you.”
Yuwen Yue took another step forward, unflinching. “Tracker’s strength is also his downfall. He doesn’t understand loyalty, and that will be his undoing. His weakness lies in the very betrayals he thrives on.”
Scarface let out a harsh, hollow laugh. “Weakness? Tracker is beyond weakness. He betrayed the Seven Seas’ elders, including Di Fu—you helped him do it!”
Yuwen Yue’s gaze hardened. “The Underworld may indulge treachery, but power is rooted in loyalty. Tracker ascends alone, and alone, he will fall.”
Scarface tensed, his scarred face twisting as memories of his defeat at Tracker’s hands flashed before him. Tracker had been the cause of his fall from grace—marking him, banishing him to this place, and leaving him bound as the Underworld’s gatekeeper. The pain of betrayal lingered, a wound that never healed.
Yuwen Yue’s voice softened, but it held the weight of truth. “You’re bound by your own failure, Scarface. You can free yourself if you let me.”
For the first time, doubt flickered across Scarface’s face. Years of loyalty to the Underworld had become a mask for his shame. He had once been proud, powerful, but that power was now hollow, chained by his defeat. Yet, even in his bitterness, a grudging respect for Yuwen Yue stirred.
“You can’t help the Underworld. The Master will kill you,” Scarface hissed, though his words lacked conviction.
Yuwen Yue stepped closer, his hand resting on the hilt of the Poe Yue Jian sword. “Perhaps. But the Underworld will be free. There is more power in humanity than in guarding a forgotten realm. The balance has already been broken.”
Scarface gripped his blade tightly, but he didn’t strike. Yuwen Yue’s words struck deep—each one a reminder of the chains that bound him to this realm. As Yuwen Yue drew his sword, the ancient inscriptions glowed brighter, humming with the power of the Moon Kingdom. The first strike was swift, precise. The blade’s edge sliced through Scarface’s body, the glowing inscriptions burning into his flesh, searing him with the ancient power.
Scarface staggered, his strength drained as light erupted from the sword, binding him in chains of light. Yuwen Yue drove his sword into the ground, and with it, the gates of the Moon Kingdom began to open. Scarface, the gatekeeper of the Five Realms, was rendered powerless. His role, once vital, was now useless as the ancient magic held him in place.
But this was only the beginning.
The Leader of the Wind and Cloud Decree
As Scarface struggled against the chains, a figure stepped through the open gates.
A woman happens to meet this god-like prince at the entrance of the Moon Kingdom.
She appears as though she has never served any masters in her former days.
She seems more than who she was in Yanbei, more than who she was in Wei and Liang.
The indigo scarf tightly hanging around her neck reminds her that she is the leader of the Wind and Cloud Decree.
She was a woman who had stood against the armies of Yanbei and Wei.
Her leadership embodies a perfect blend of unwavering strength, compassion, and tactical stands as a symbol of hope and defiance for the oppressed, with her fierce determination and loyalty to her people making her an inspiring and formidable leader.
An overall force of nature—both relentless and strategic.
Her entrance signaled a new stage in the battle.
Like a god who effortlessly holds the reins of fate, Yuwen Yue walked in the midst of chaos, wearing the princely garments of Ra Yue is never rattled. As cold as he is, whether in battle or within the voids of court politics, emotions in him are so well reined with a mask of serenity. His silence and stillness say a lot, as if he is always going to be a step ahead of everyone, managing things to suit his bigger purpose.
Both knew, their eyes had met a thousand times.
Yet today, they never saw each other as who they truly are. Facing Yuwen Yue this way, the Crown Prince of Qinghai looks as though he has trespassed into a realm, exposing its view to the world.
The realm between the Underworld and the Moon Kingdom hung in a delicate balance.
Yuwen Yue, bound by duty and fate, now faced not only the wrath of the Underworlds but the challenge of unlocking the full power of the Moon Kingdom’s ancient forces. The woman with the indigo scarf, with her ties to the Wind and Cloud Decree, would either be his ally—or his greatest obstacle.
The stakes were higher than ever. The future of the Underworld, the Moon Kingdom, and the human realm were all entangled in a web of vengeance, betrayal, and ambition.
The battle for the soul of the Ximeng Continent had truly begun.
Entrance to the Moon Kingdom
Facing Yuwen Yue this way, the Crown Prince of Qinghai, like he trespassed a realm upon entrance exposed its view to the world. Chu Qiao looked at him with total coldness and like they were born to become enemies, any moment of stare is a delay.
She does not look like will allow anyone to trespass. But Yuwen Yue’s voice left Chu Qiao helpless: Star Child, we will pass.
The view did not disappoint the Gurus, Zuo Zong and Yue Qi went to search their band of brothers while the chaos of breaching the Moon Kingdom as describe by the ancient books of Qinghai:
The Moon Kingdom is an ethereal realm bathed in the soft, silver light of an eternal moon. It exists between dreams and reality, a place where time flows differently, and everything seems touched by the glow of celestial beauty. The kingdom itself is vast, a land of towering marble spires, shimmering lakes, and shadowy forests where the light of the moon filters through ancient trees. However, beneath its tranquil surface lies a world of mystery, secrets, and forgotten places—each with its own haunting allure.
Yuwen Yue’s eyes calm as the waters, went to survey the realms, exposed like in a dream, a secret never meant to be shared, hauntingly beautiful like its leader that stands still.
The view of the Forgotten River
The Forgotten River is a spectral waterway that winds through the heart of the Moon Kingdom, hidden from sight by thick mist and ancient magic. It is said that the river was once vibrant and flowing with life, but over the centuries, it has been neglected and forgotten by the kingdom’s inhabitants. Now, its waters are dark and slow, reflecting the stars and the endless moonlit sky above.
The river holds memories—echoes of past lives, lost dreams, and forgotten histories. Those who venture too close to its banks often hear the faint whispers of souls long gone, as if the river itself is alive, carrying the weight of forgotten eras. It is believed that those who drink from its waters lose their memories, trapped in an eternal cycle of forgetting.
The Atmosphere suddenly becomes dark, haunting, mysterious, and melancholic. The river emanates an aura of stillness, as though time itself has come to a halt in its presence.
Yuwen Yue knows the legends said that the river leads to hidden realms beneath the surface of the kingdom, where only the lost and forgotten dwell. Some believe it is a pathway to the afterlife, while others see it as a prison for lost souls. The Urshan lives here. He took Tracker and led him to the afterlife. He is the Urshan who wanders across the Forgotten river with his all worn out boat, delivers all souls from the mortal realms to the afterlife. He also fought Viper when she challenged the realms yet lost to her when she overcame it. He also met Yuwen Yue in his divine form along with its Cangwu bird in his search for Chu Qiao and the dead Emperor Xiao Ce whom he cannot harm or drag along to cross the forgotten river. He was forced to drive him out alive and well.
The dark web of the Ersatz Realm
Another realm meets their seaching eyes. Is this the Ersatz Realm?
Yuwen Yue whispered, “As if nothing has changed.”
Sound like a complain, reveals he has been into this place and experienced its never-ending place of nothingness.
Hangs and floats in the east side of the Moon Kingdom- A land of beauty which defies gravity, hovers the winds and dark clouds of the Moon Kingdom, shooting such a lightning on thunder across its endless horizons of grasslands. Yuwen Yue came here, hoping that the Chibi of Xinger would be healed; he went against this world, nearly lost his soul but saved by Chu Qiao just in time or the star child Yuwen Yue calls Xing’er.
The Ersatz Realm is a distorted, partial mirror of the Moon Kingdom-an existence in the form of a shadow dimension full of deceitful reflections and illusions. Buildings lean at unruly angles, landscapes shift haphazardly, and time moves perversely. Its eerie inhabitants are doppelgängers of those in the real Moon Kingdom, mimicking actions without being backed by any true substance behind them. These beings are believed to be fragments of forgotten desires or unrealized dreams. It also always deceives travelers, so that they cannot escape, drawing them into a world where senses and reality are warped.
Legends say that the realm was created by the moon itself, a reflection of the kingdom’s collective unconscious. Others believe it was a failed attempt by ancient mages to create a perfect copy of the Moon Kingdom, now left in ruin and incompletion.
The atmosphere spells surrealness, disorienting, and dreamlike. The Ersatz Realm feels both familiar and wrong, like a dream where nothing makes sense but everything is strangely recognizable.
The hardships of Hellforst
Another familiar realm meets Yuwen Yue’s sight is Hellfrost in the north side of the Moon Kingdom. Hellfrost is a forsaken, forbidding land at the outer rim of the Moon Kingdom where the extreme cold freezes the flesh and souls. The ground is covered in jagged ice, glowing under the moon light that gives a place full of melancholy air. No life exists in the natural form; instead, there will only be the apparitions of long-dead creatures and a frozen statue of those who had ventured too far. The cold saps both physical warmth and hope and life from the air; time becomes frozen. Some describe Hellfrost as the purgatory of the Moon Kingdom itself-exiled forever to freeze, forsaken by gods and forgotten, surrounded by angry spirits and powers trapped within the ice.
This is the place where he was found by his Qui Hui, the true keeper of all five realms before Scarface.
Yuwen Yue recalls, He was utterly depressed losing hope from Chu Qiao’s Enthronement in Liang as the Empress, it looks though he lost her forever when he heard what Chu Qiao said: I can’t be your fairytale.
This is where Qi Hui had to teach him on how to end human strength and rely and listen to what Qi Hui’s wisdom said: “This is what happens when mortal vitality ends and sinew of immortality begins.”
The Master using his reserved strength pulled Yuwen Yue’s body. Yuwen Yue occasionally blinking his eyes saw what the old man did to him and heard what the Sifu has to say: “This is the path of meekness, bearing one’s trouble for another towards a common good. Without the good, you cannot call it a virtue of humility but false humility. Giving up is a good sign, your body is learning the true limit of your mortal capacity, you are made up of flesh and blood subject to the earth’s gravity and its pull, the moon and the sun, the stars and the sea of frost. Without a real companion, you can never make it through.”
Yuwen Yue closed its eyes, for it defied his cold ego. A master saving his disciple, Yuwen Yue must learn its virtue.
After months or probably years have gone by, having no sense of time, Qi Hui and Yuwen Yue both reach the Hellfrost’s peak after days of ceaseless wandering. Their bodies ache from the freezing winds, but their resolve burns stronger than ever. In the distance, the indigo star of the Moon Kingdom glimmers faintly, a reminder of their purpose—to gather the realms before the prophecies of destruction come to pass.
Yuwen Yue even went back to this place making him knows this place very well. He imprisoned Di Fu and casted 1000 years chant to force the underworld chief in remorse yet, Di Fu still choose endless icepicks pain torturing him for 1000 years until today. Finding Hellforst will also lead you to Happy Valley.
Happy Valley’s Springtime
Yuwen Yue once again back to this meadows, takes him once again to a happy landscape is yet not so with Yuwen Yue. Sadness begins to creep in. Once the Master of these realms, it reminded him, like a flashback, a fragments of journey to the Empire of the Gods. He just stood there as if he were still with the Kungfu Ice Master heard.
“Watch me dictate the wind and take down the real target.”
He was trained here where his mortal abilities were despised not even a single of his mortal abilities is considered strength. The Kungfu of Ice Mater stripped him off of his mortal abilities learning how to control and earn the favor of the trade of the winds. Another flashback came into this moment:
“Yuwen Yue, an heir of the Eyes of God, one of the legends and holds superior unmatched abilities, but in the immortal realms of Moon Kingdom his ability is considered at the lowest forms.
He is such a novice tenderfoot in front of a brilliant realm, Yuwen Yue became a foolish master amid its astute, cognizant Masters.”
Happy Valley is a place of tranquil landscape of flowing meadows of wildflowers, crystal streams, and old trees amidst the sky with soft blue and golden hues. There, the sun bathes the valley in golden warmth to create a blissful dream-like atmosphere. The fresh air is scented with a melange of blooms from one side while soft animals roam unmolested in the sea of colorful wildflowers. There, in this place of eternal spring, time seems to drag painfully. A perfect place of complete calmness and satisfaction, the sounds of nature-the rustling of leaves, the burble of brooks, the chirping of birds, and all that help send visitors into deep relaxation.
They say that one who comes to Happy Valley with a heavy heart finds his troubles gone. Travelers who lose their way to the valley clear out their minds and purpose when they leave it. And, then, there are the myths for esoteric, mystical beings-fairies or sprites, a sort of guardian spirits-that live invisibly, patrolling the valley, shielding it from outside turmoil.
Though Yuwen Yue should have happiness, learned immortal abilities, freed of all its past, he also experience the only anguish he has felt in his whole life when the Kungfu of Ice Master died at saving him. The ambush done by no other than underworlds strongest assassins’ Di Fu, Scarface, and Tracker.
Endless horizon of Higanbana flowers
Finally, a view that everyone should hold on to…
The landscape where the endless Higanbana grows feels as if it exists at the edge of life and death, suspended in a perpetual twilight. The air is still, heavy with a sense of longing and the faint scent of earth after rain. The flowers sway gently, as if moved by an invisible breeze, creating a soft, whispering sound that feels like the voices of the departed.
It is said that the endless Higanbana blooms at the boundary between the living world and the afterlife. Souls crossing into the afterworld are believed to pass through fields of these flowers, where the vibrant red petals represent both the beauty of life and the inevitable sadness of parting. In some myths, the flower acts as a guide for the dead, ensuring that no soul becomes lost in the transition from one realm to the next. Endless bloom of the Higanbana signifies the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. Its eternal nature suggests a reminder of the impermanence of all things, yet its undying presence symbolizes the continuity of existence, even after death.
Qi Hui reveals intervention
Suddenly, Chu Qiao’s power resonate with the five white jades gifted by Zao Baocung. Each jade hums with the energy of the realms it represents another entity is yet to reveal its presence.
He was not suppose to appear, yet time has come, he will have to intervene. Qi Hui suddenly appeared. He is the underworld realm true keeper before its force locked down from the invasion of Eyes of god Master Yuwen Hao’s on its Celestial warfare. He hibernated for many years, allowing only some secret visits to the Qinghai King if deemed necessary. Now that he is dead, he is left alone roaming and observing the entire Ximeng Continent and still keeps his vow to the Qinghai King. He had greatly participated but invisibly influence Qinghai crown prince birth and upbringing to the Yuwen Household. He was the invisible spy, that helped the dying Maste Xie Tai Shan live where the Liang forces found him at Wei and Liang borders. He was also an spectator when Yue Qi arrived in the Wei State to compete for the Yuwen Household and finds his name the Seventh Yue and became the closest bodyguard of the forth young master Yuwen Yue.
Qi Hui knows what happen to Chu Qiao and Yuwen Hao’s last battle, the death of Trailkoya and disappearance of Lou He. He once again stirred the thin line of fate when he shortly intervened and led Chu Qiao to the Wei’s hunting of ground of maids, with the hopes that she will find Yuwen Yue’s household insignia and tie her fate with him. Given the Higanbana flower disappeared in her back, Qi Hui knows fate has intervened with no definite time when can Chu Qiao regain back her powers and memories.
He saw how Yuwen Yue was lured and isolated in the icy lakes, the ambush of his bodyguards Yue Qi and finally Chu Qiao firing arrows, fighting and killing all Yanbei soldiers who was ordered to kill Yuwen Yue. He wants to intervene but he can’t stir the fate lest he will violate the underworlds fury and much worst can happen. What must happen in the mortal world is beyond his powers to control. He can only intervene after fate sealed its course.
When Yuwen Yue was shot with the white arrow of Yan Xun, his body could no longer stand, Chu Qiao cried in desperation while the icy lake cracked, Yuwen Yue’s losing strength, dropped to his knees.
After a while, Chu Qiao ran to hug Yuwen Yue and even said: Get up and walk.
Yuwen Yue on his shallow breaths, coughed blood, his eyes still calms as the waters said, “Leave now, go. Xing’er be good.”
“I am sorry I won’t leave you again, Get up and let us go.”
Chu Qiao cried like she has never cried before kissed Yuwen Yue’s forehead.
Yan Xun knew he lost Chu Qiao as he witnessed this scene from a far, twitched the white jade in his palms until the blood drips out of it, his lips trembling as if saying somethings…
Chu Qiao became a violent being, no longer knew that she is killing humans became like an rabid animal continued to massacre anyone who dares, who tries to hurt or shoot Yuwen Yue.
As if defeat and death is not enough to gain victory, Yan Xun ordered the crossbow of death to be fired and attached itself to the cracked slabs of ice and pulled it to overthrew body of Yuwen Yue to the lake. He watched Chu Qiao cried like all the heavens would crumble, all the killings and bloodly mess, she hit the waters and swims into the deep of the icy lake to recover Yuwen Yue. What happened inside the icy lake Qi Hui is only sure of one thing, Chu Qiao’s recovered her power in the lake because he dipped his hands into the water and intervened with fates of mortals once again.
Rekindled Powers of Feng Yun Faling, The Wind and Cloud Decree
Qi Hui looking at her, the strongest Underworld Assassins and Leader of the river and lakes spies, the Greater Master of Jianghu Spy league finally regained back her powers and memories rekindled:
Chu Qiao stands at the middle of the Moon Kingdom in the edge of the Mountain of Ancestors, the red fire, slowly burning across her back, pulsating in rhythm with the ancient decree-the Feng Yun Faling. Characters that a while ago were mere scribbles were clear to her, as a floodgates of lifetime memories shoveled themselves into her mind. The oracle was awakening in her, revealing to her who she was and what her purpose was in this life. Once lost, now she remembers everything: the power of the decree, the destiny calling to her, and the dangerous journey that awaits her.
In her hand, she holds the small bottle of Celadon, given to her long ago by her mother, Luo He. Inside, is snow paper, the fragile white parchment of ancient leaf containing the legendary Hing Ba Na chant. It is the key to unlocking the full might of the Wind and Cloud decree. Chu Qiao has tested this power over and over again defying fates and deaths of the both common man, warriors and even those who are noble at birth. She is fully aware of its power. She feels the weight of her choices, and she knows the decree’s tied to death, reward, or consequence.
The winds howl around her as she readies to invoke the power of the decree, her body shuddering as the energy begins to build within her. Consecrated appearing and disappearing powder can be used in order to reveal the words on the snow paper only when read aloud, wherein she can call forth the ancient power. She also remembered her days in the Yuwen Household and wasn’t able to deny herself, utter this name… Yuwen Yue.
Yuwen Yue meets her eyes and realized over these years, his feelings never changed.
From the moment he saw her in the hunting fields of Wei, her eyes carried unyielding courage. She exudes an aura of fearless determination. She has faced insurmountable odds and adversaries, yet she remains steadfast in her quest for justice and freedom. Her courage is not simply about physical bravery, but also about standing firm in her convictions, even when the path ahead is dangerous or uncertain.
But will the decree be enough to empower her to fulfill the prophecy, or devour her as it devoured others before her? And Yuwen Yue?
The man whom she wanted to start life with, well, seems to not want all of what she’s hoping for. It feels like it would be their end as she faces him now. Whatever she chooses today will make their fates.
Can it be grim, or is the flower Higanbana ready to take both into a world from which they will never meet each other again?
Surrounded by swirling gusts of wind, Chu Qiao takes a deep breath and tosses the powder of consecrated grains over the snow paper .
The inscription of the old book turns to glow and for hundreds of years sealed words of the Hing Ba Na chant are revealed.
Her voice steady, softly spoken from her words that ripple through the fabric over this world around her. Winds growl when howling and dark skies she makes, like breathtaking power she now is to unleash.
As she finishes her last words, the Feng Yun Faling fully unfolds on her back.
Yuwen Yue, unmoving like stone, his posture upright, movements fluid yet precise, presence imposing without being overbearing said: Chu Qiao, Xing’er… the star child!
He wielded his sword under the influence of the chanting Gurus, fulfilling the task assigned by the Queen of Qinghai, he suddenly said, “Wait!”
Ra Yue’s treachery to the Gurus
He hoped the brief pause would give Chu Qiao time to decipher his intentions. Yuwen Yue wished that without needing words, Chu Qiao would instinctively align with him to complete the mission. Their bond was such that they could read each other’s actions effortlessly. He then leaned closer to Chu Qiao and whispered, “Slaves obey, illegal channels.” This implied that the Gurus believed Yuwen Yue was under their spell.
However, sprinkled with plum blossoms, the opposite was true: the Gurus had unknowingly become his slaves, deceived by his masked actions, which were difficult to predict. Like a god with hidden knowledge, Yuwen Yue’s aura radiated mystery. His stoic demeanor concealed his true intentions, leaving others constantly guessing. This air of enigma heightened his sense of divinity, as if he possessed wisdom or insights beyond anyone’s full comprehension.
Plum blossoms Protection
Yuwen Yue knows he can end it all. With just one strike of his Poe Yue Jian sword, the Moon Kingdom would be reduced to mere memories, haunting their dreams at night but fading like illusions with the morning light. This power gives Yuwen Yue a natural sense of authority and nobility—not only because of his aristocratic heritage or his royal bloodline from Qinghai, but also because of the way he carries himself. He doesn’t need to demand respect; his very presence commands it.
His regal aura implies an untouchable, divine nature, above human frailties. Thanks to the Plum blossoms, from his childhood until today, was his secret weapon on all occasions, including surviving hundred attempts of honey traps and sleeping incenses in his bed, the secret of Plum blossoms ever enduring in darkness and coldness never failed to protect him.
Blazing flower of the afterlife and the Oracle
For a moment, the old name that Yuwen Yue was calling out Chu Qiao heard, the flower of fire blazed. Her memories align perfectly to the present; the will of the oracle became hers.
Now she comes to realize that the decree is no longer an instrument of the enemy but a bridge between realms-a passage for balance between forces of wind and cloud, life and death, fate and this so-called freedom.
Revealing the awaited mystery
And just as if the last word was about to leave her mouth, the world shook .
Will she abandon Yuwen Yue once more and lose her memories again?
This ancient energy was flowing inside her veins. A realization deep within her bones, the memories of the Icy lake flashed once again within her eyes.
Just like turning back of time inside the icy lake, both Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao found each other inside the icy lake repeating the course of time. The bloody body of Yuwen Yue still managed to tap Chu Qiao’s shoulder to prevent her in dragging her frail body to the bottom of the lake. He also heard Yuwen Yue uttered: Live Well, Live well, Chu Qiao Live well. When Chu Qiao was floating in the water, she was seen from Yuwen Yue. Her lips were bubbled, and she suddenly shouted.
I cant live well without you! I love you, Yuwen Yue. I will save you!
To everyone’s mystery, Chu Qiao regained her powers in the icy lake returned to the old memories and rescued Yuwen Yue.
There is no triumph without sacrifice.
The battle of the Underworlds and League of Elite Spies
Suddenly, the snow beneath them shifts. The Hellfrost begins to crack open, and from the chasm emerge the beasts Ra Zheng had warned of—creatures of ancient power, frozen for centuries. These are the first signs that the realms are unraveling. The race against time has begun.
The Moon Kingdom skies split open, and from this rift come the spirits of old. They are the Wind and Cloud decree guardians, those who have formerly wielded its power before her, now shadows of what they once were.
Zao Baocung on one final warning said: the time of the underworld has come, powers unleashed, the energies will be spent, factions will arise as the Poe Yue Jian sword of Qinghai stirs the balance, exposes the Moon Kingdom to the World.
This alerted Lou He suddenly transformed into a powerful underworld leader difficult to describe. Along with Viper the Wind lesser Master endlessly gathered the power of the winds turned to hurricane and tornado-like powers combined into one.
Zhong Yu summoning the weather came to cover the entire land of Ximeng Continent. The thick dark clouds full of lightning and thunder produced fury that throbs the earth.
Deep within the Empire of the Gods, the Queen of Qinghai watches as the five realms teeter on the brink of collapse. Her spies, the Gorge Spies, wait like predators ready to swallow the realm’s power, while Ra Yue half-buries the Poe Yue Jian sword into the ground of the Moon Kingdom, its inscriptions glowing ominously.
The Jianghu spies, led by lesser Master Zhong Yu, hurry to meet Ra Zheng, while Lan Shuyi rushes to report to the Silver Prince of Qinghai that Lou He is moving her forces to seize control of the crumbling realms. Zhong Yu confirms the worst—Lou He, the Queen of the Moon Kingdom, seeks to assert dominion over the Underworld itself, aiming to reshape the realms to her will.
The Queen Zhueje of Qinghai knows that if Lou He succeeds, all the destruction she had planned with the Gurus’ help would crumble. It was for this reason that Zhueje imprisoned the Qinghai King and cursed his kingdom. Her plan was to invade the Moon Kingdom, destroy it, and harness its powers to create her own world, where Wei, Yanbei, and Liang would kneel at her feet.
Summoning the League of Elite Spies, including Princess Xiao Yu of Liang, the Queen prepares to give her final order. The Eyes of God have no representative, their heir believed to have died long ago. However, the Queen remains blind to a critical truth—the heir of the Eyes of God has been working quietly under her nose, never absent, hidden in plain sight within her own court.
The Queen issues her decree:
“Find Lou He and end this rebellion before everything falls into her hands!”
The decree revents her
As Chu Qiao closes the seal of the Ersatz realm, knows that the decree will come at a price, but in its cost, it demands far more than Chu Qiao had ever been prepared for.
In the middle of the storm, her mother, Luo He, shines with an otherworldly form, radiating sorrow. “The decree demands a balance, my child,” she says, her voice filled with love and regret. “To let its power loose, one has to let go of a part of their soul.”
Between her obligation and the effect, Chu Qiao hesitated.
She had fought for kingdoms, for justice, and for peace..
In truth, the decree now prevents her from sacrificing a piece of herself—the piece of herself that she can never have back again.
The weight presses down upon her like winds of the tempest.
But if not for this decree, everything will be lost.
And finally, with a heavy heart, she yields to the price. The words on her back ignite anew, and the wind dies down, as if in a culmination to her penance. The shadow that once held the specters of old disappears into nothing.
Luo He, who gives a nod for the final payoff before vanishing off to nowhere.
Now that the power of the Feng Yun Faling has been fully unleashed, Chu Qiao descended off the mountain. Winds died down and skies cleared, having passed through the full force of the storm. But inside her, a hollow space opened up there, where once part of her soul dwelled; for reason of a balance between realms, that’s something she had to do.
The world around her stabilizes, and the turmoil that had threatened to tear the realms asunder dissolves away.
The Wind and Cloud decree returns harmony, and for the first time in many years, there is a possibility of peace.
But she knows such peace cannot last. When summoned, the decree tests the world to see if justice truly prevails in its dispensation.
She finds herself now a balance protector, tied up with the Feng Yun Faling as a servant she must protect at all costs this fragile balance she has come to balance. She both is warrior and servant to the edict, winds, and clouds that chanced upon her fate.
She walks down the mountain path carrying the flowers inscribed on her back like a sign, reminding her of the powers she possesses and the weight with which she paid for all along. In her heart, hope lies-the time when the winds bearing the burden of war would have long vanished.
The battle of the League of Elite spies
Far across the realms, the Ersatz Realm is collapsing. Its ruler’s immense power has shattered the realm’s boundaries, and the dark breeds have broken free, consuming everything in their path. Chu Qiao, now leading the charge to unite the Underworld and Jianghu spies, knows the time for diplomacy has ended. If the collapse spreads to the other realms, all will be lost.
With the help of Zhong Yu and Viper, Chu Qiao rallies the scattered Underworld elite spies, breaking through the boundaries of the Ersatz Realm and fighting off the dark breeds that seek to devour them. Though her powers are vast, Chu Qiao understands that the true strength of the Underworld spies lies in their unity. Together, they forge a new alliance, determined to restore balance and stop the chaos from spreading.
Lou He, Queen of the Moon Kingdom, begins unleashing her forces. Her spies, operating under Zhong Yu, now follow her command as lesser master of the Cloud. The Wind and Cloud Decree has left Lou He’s body and now resides with Chu Qiao, the sole bearer of both powers in the Moon Kingdom. She strives to reunite the non-governmental spies and create a new alliance to combat the growing threat.
But Zhan Ziyu, leader of the Afterlife Camp, begins to question his loyalty to the Qinghai Queen. Though he was once committed to helping her destroy the Moon Kingdom and claim dominion over the Ximeng Continent, his ambitions to rise to power independently are becoming clear. Zhan Ziyu refuses to exchange his allegiance, resisting the Queen’s call.
Princess Xiao Yu, ever vigilant, senses his betrayal and confronts him. Their clash is not just of swords but of wits, two masters of espionage fighting for control of the future of the realms.
As the battle between them escalates, Dong Fangyi, the Iron Clad Sand Drizzle Master, arrives with the Blackguard spies. His presence reveals the hidden machinations at work. Lou He’s ultimate plan is laid bare—to unlock the portal to the Forgotten River and summon an ancient force that would annihilate the realms and reshape the world in her image.
Portal to the Forgotten River
Dong Fangyi explains the gravity of Lou He’s plan. If she succeeds in unleashing the dark force from the Forgotten River, the balance between the realms will be irreversibly destroyed. Lou He may lose control over the very power she seeks to harness, and the dark breeds, freed from the Ersatz Realm, will sweep across the Ximeng Continent, leaving nothing but devastation in their wake.
Dong Fangyi recounts the past: years ago, under the influence of the Gurus, Lou He breached the walls of Qinghai, leading to the death of the Qinghai King. Though Lou He’s influence was temporarily suppressed with the help of the former Eyes of God, Yuwen Hao, today, the situation is far more dire. The dark breeds and forces of the Hellfrost have united under Lou He, and her power is far beyond what it once was.
As the final battle draws near, Qi Hui gathers the remaining forces of the Five Realms. They march toward the gates of the Forgotten River, where Lou He’s forces, along with the beasts of the Hellfrost and the dark breeds of the Ersatz Realm, now converge. The sky is torn apart by lightning, and the earth trembles as the very foundation of the realms crumbles beneath them.
Lou He stands at the center of it all, her eyes glowing with power. The portal to the Forgotten River begins to crack open, and the ancient force within stirs, ready to be unleashed ferry all these Elite spies to the Afterlife who will not obey her commands.
Ordinary mortals
As the battle for the Five Realms rages on and Yuwen Yue seeing it in his own calm eyes cannot abandon its sword took a knee. Amid the chaos, Yuwen Yue stands calm, his grip firm on the Poe Yue Jian sword, which glows with inscriptions. The words of Ra Zheng echo in his mind: “The Moon Kingdom will not be destroyed alone; all godly beings will be doomed to live as ordinary mortals.”
The Underworld spies sees Yuwen Yue with the perfection of power as he holds his sword. The Poe Yue Jian sword recognizable by these dark breeds, his commanding presence, mysterious nature, and ethereal composure elevates him to an almost divine status paralyzes them.
The Underworlds recognizes the Poe Yue Jian and Broken Moon Swords
One of the dark breeds said: This is the sword Snow Prince! And they all saw, the Poe Yue Jian sword endlessly emitting light with Chinese inscriptions, like a fireworks in display.
It captivates and intimidates them in equal measure.
As Chu Qiao leads the battle, a shadow looms over the alliance. The dark breeds found her sword as well, once again took them to the time of both swords long history.
I remember!
One of the dark breed underworld elite spy muttered.
He is average height but carries himself as if he were larger in several ways. The skin on his body is pale, as if he existed in part under a luminescence that remains part of him even in the shadows through which he moves. His hair falls blacker than any midnight yet still seems to have those silk-like strands within and upon it so that it always cascades below his shoulders, usually kept tightly bound to the back to get out of his face. It is his strongly chiseled cheekbones and his powerful jaw that work together to give him an air of intensity and resolve.
His eyes are probably the brightest features of all – slitted pupils, ghostly silver glowing in the dark. And in this, he possesses the power to fix people’s eyes so intently they freeze stiff with fear and in the same measure, hold it so deep within so that he can read people, understand them unto the depth of their intent with a strange sort of accuracy. He isthe Great Urshan, the divine boat ferryman that carries souls from the mortal world to the after life.
Gurus, the shadow that looms
These shadow that looms were the Gurus. The order and mastermind behind the disruption, went to a secret deals with the Liang elite spies or the Skyshadow spies, Afterlife death camp spies, the blackguard spies, the Yuwen’s Eyes of god spies, the Invisible spies of Ra Zheng Silver Prince of Qinghai held captive and forced their shadows to be revealed to the world. While the Gorge spies belongs to their own league is waiting for the events to unfold.
Under the league of the original elite spies, the only league left to join are the Jianghu Spies and Underworld elite spies. Both are non-governmental spies.
Chu Qiao have finally claimed her leadership, the shift of powers is about to be overturned. She became the Greater Master of the Jianhu Spies or what they call the river and lakes spies along with Viper as the lesser master of the Wind.
Yuwen Yue, clutching the Poe Yue Jian sword exposes more opening of the Moon Kingdom’s. Chu Qiao have no choice but to face this immense threat, unsheathes the Canhong sword. A haunting swirling howling sounds released went to search the chaos to slay the main disturbance clashed with the Poe Yue Jian sword’s double edged light inscriptions. The clash of light and howling sound produced more power Ra Yue momentarily lost touch of the sword. The jades in Chu Qiao’s indigo scarf pulse with energy, connecting the Five Realms to the Moon Kingdom itself. Qi Hui stands by her side, her indigo scarf glowing as it wards off the poisons and dark magic surrounding them coming from the Gurus.
Lou He, Yuwen Yue, and Chu Qiao stand off
As Lou He prepares to open the portal and unleash the ancient force but Yuwen Yue makes a final calling.
At the gates of the Forgotten River, Lou He prepares to unleash the dark force.
But Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue stand in her way.
Chu Qiao’s Canhong sword hums with energy as she confronts Lou He, the final remnants of the Wind and Cloud Decree flowing through her.
The two clash in a flurry of light and shadow, the sound of their battle reverberating through the crumbling realms.
Qi Hui stand beside Chu Qiao, defending against the dark breeds and the creatures of Hellfrost. While Dong Fangyi shifts his powers allied to Lou He
Yuwen Yue, clutching the Poe Yue Jian sword, steps forward. His presence alone commands the battlefield, and with one final effort, He invokes the power of the indigo star, channeling it through the jades in Chu Qiao, sealing the realms in an impenetrable barrier of light of the Poe Yue Jian sword. Lou He, furious, unleashes her full power, but it is too late. The portal to the Forgotten River in a collapse like state, trapping the ancient force within.
And finally the seal of the Forgotten river devoured by the Ersatz realm. Yuwen Yue completing Ra Yue’s task, turned in the second seal in the Ersatz realm. Like a bulb that has been switched off, it will be impossible to reach or use it powers.
Chu Qiao’s jades, sealing the portal to the Forgotten River.
Lou He and Dong Fangyi, caught in the backlash, screams in fury as the ancient force collapses inward, trapping her and the dark breeds within.
The portal seals with a blinding flash of light, and the realms fall silent. The battle is over.
Knowledge to return in balance
Only the owner of the Poe Yue Jian sword understood this well. Memories kept it in his mind, the transposition of powers and how to turn them off; the Ersatz realm is unable to block since he secretly kept a book over these years which was also used for reciting bedtime stories of the Grandmother Yuwen. Now it became a reality. This book was his secret which was well kept hidden in anywhere he went. Even after the disaster at this icy lake, in which he was ready to lose everything- life and worldly possessions included, did not forget this book.
He wrote it in his own words, recalled everything written in it, and even forged a copy.
Yuwen Yue is torn between his desire for peace and the knowledge that the only way to truly end the cycle of destruction is to seal the power of the realms forever. He knows the cost, but as he watches Lou He’s forces tear through the realms, he makes his decision.
The Poe Yue Jian sword is buried halfway in the ground, its light surging through the earth, binding the realms with ancient inscriptions. The sword hums with a force that could reshape the entire continent, but Yuwen Yue hesitates. To end all forms of power, to bind them out of reach, would mean sacrificing the realm’s magic and the divine lineage of the gods.
Yet, this is the only way to return the world to balance. A world where humans could live in peace, free from the shackles of gods and empires.
With the final seal in place, the balance between the realms is restored. Yuwen Yue, having completed his task, stands over the now silent gates of the Forgotten River. The Poe Yue Jian sword, still buried in the earth, hums softly, its work done.
Chu Qiao, her body still pulsing with the energy of the Wind and Cloud Decree, looks out over the battlefield. The war is won, but at a cost. The powers they wielded, the realms they fought to save, are forever changed.
In the quiet aftermath, as the sun begins to rise over the horizon, Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue stand together. For now, there is peace. But they both know that the world they fought for is fragile, and that the forces they’ve sealed away may one day stir again.
For now, they walk away from the battlefield, knowing that the price of peace is vigilance. The world has been reborn, but it will need guardians to keep it safe.
Snow White Rook
A secret fortress hidden in eternal winter atop the jagged cliffs of Qinghai, Snow White Rook stands high, veiled from the world below. Cut from gleaming white stone, its walls blend with the snow-covered peaks so perfectly that a discerning eye could be its only hope of finding it. Long abandoned by the world and almost forgotten in legend, this ancient stronghold is a secret known to but a select few. It stands alone, calm in solitude, in icy winds and swirling mists, guarding its secrets with silent vigilance.
The Snow White Rook was designed with precision, much like a chess piece in a grand strategy. A fortress of defense and retreat, its towering spires echo the defensive nature of a rook on a chessboard, symbolizing strength, refuge, and strategic foresight. For centuries, it has served as a sanctuary for those who understood its value—not merely as a stronghold, but as a bastion of careful planning, where decisions made could turn the tide of entire wars.
Now, after years of being apart to Chu Qiao, before he surrendered himself to the Qinghai Queen, Yuwen Yue renovated the Castle. He returned today along with Chu Qiao arranged by Zao baocung. Much like a rook castling with its king in a game of chess, their reunion represents a pivotal shift in their shared destiny—a move of strategic necessity, but also one of protection and renewal. This secluded castle, untouched by the ravages of time and conflict, becomes their place of recalibration, a momentary retreat from the chaos of the realms below, where the winds of war have begun to blow once more.
The fortress itself is an architectural marvel, its design mirroring the principles of castling. With strong, impenetrable outer walls and hidden passages woven throughout, it allows for swift movement and repositioning, protecting those within from the dangers outside. The central tower, the heart of the rook, offers panoramic views of the frozen landscape, allowing its inhabitants to see far into the distance, while its stone halls remain warm and secure, shielded from the bitter cold.
For Chu Qiao and Yuwen Yue, the Snow White Rook is more than just a physical refuge—it is now a symbol of their bond, a fortress where they can rebuild trust, strategy, and hope. The years apart have shaped them both into warriors, but now, back together, they must rely on each other’s strength to weather the coming storm. In the isolation of the Rook, away from prying eyes and the chaos of the realms, they are able to reflect on the roles they must play, not only for each other, but for the survival of the Moon Kingdom and Qinghai.
Chu Qiao, with her sharp tactical mind and unyielding spirit, is the key to unlocking the next phase of their journey, while Yuwen Yue, with his calculated foresight and unwavering loyalty, stands as her greatest defender. Together, they embody the very essence of castling—a move of preservation and preparation, where they reposition themselves for the greater battle ahead, securing a powerful defense while waiting for the right moment to strike.
Chapter 89
Broken Clock
Blackhood man and his search of the Moon Kingdom
A dense, mist-filled jungle shrouds the towering stone entrance carved into the side of an ancient mountain. This gateway leads into the fabled labyrinth known as The Thousand Caves. Three men, clad in dark tactical gear, move with eerie precision through the undergrowth, inching closer to the entrance. They are seasoned assassins—cold, calculated, and efficient.
The older assassin, his voice cool and steady, glances at the looming cave mouth. “You’re sure this is the right place? A thousand caves… and we need just one.”
The younger assassin smirks, checking his watch. “One way in, one way out. At least, that’s what the map says. We get in, grab whoever we can, and get out before anyone knows we were here.”
The man in the black hood, silent until now, narrows his eyes. “It’s never that simple, kid. This place is riddled with traps—booby traps, secret passages, and things worse than traps. And don’t think for a second we’ll be the only ones down there.”
The older assassin chuckles softly, pulling a slender blade from his sleeve and twirling it. “Good. I was getting bored. I could use a challenge.”
The younger assassin shakes his head, annoyed, and pulls a worn map from his pocket. “Save it. Let’s just stick to the plan. We move fast and avoid any unnecessary fights.”
The black-hooded man shrugs, his cold eyes flickering to the younger assassin. “Sure, but if someone crosses our path, they won’t live to regret it.”
The older assassin’s tone turns serious as he steps closer. “Don’t get too cocky. The last thing we need is a bloodbath. These caves echo for miles. We don’t want to alert anyone to our presence. Got it?”
“Got it,” the younger assassin mutters, tucking the map away and adjusting his gear. “But remember, this isn’t just another job. People don’t come back from these caves for a reason.”
The black-hooded man smirks, his cockiness returning. “And what reason’s that?”
The cave entrance looms before them, and none of the assassins have an answer.
Hours later, the trio has been navigating the labyrinthine caves, the oppressive silence broken only by the occasional drip of water echoing in the distance. The air is thick and heavy, tension hanging between them. The tunnel suddenly widens into a dimly lit chamber, where a hunched, ragged figure sits in the corner—an old beggar wrapped in tattered robes, her face obscured by a dirty hood.
The younger assassin freezes mid-step, his hand instinctively reaching for his weapon. “What the hell? We’re not supposed to see anyone down here.”
The older assassin’s eyes narrow. “No one comes this deep without a reason. Stay sharp.”
The younger assassin tightens his grip on his blade. “You think she’s dangerous?”
The man in the black hood regards the figure coolly. “Anyone still alive this far in is dangerous.”
Without looking up, the beggar speaks, her voice a raspy whisper. “It’s disrespectful to pass without knowing the cave’s protocols.”
The man in the black hood laughs mockingly. “Protocols? In a cave? Give me a break.”
The beggar rolls back her frayed sleeve, extending a hand as if waiting for something. “It’s not the cave you should fear… It’s what’s coming for you if you don’t follow them.”
The older assassin steps forward, amusement in his voice but a wary look in his eyes. “Oh yeah? And what’s coming for us, old woman?”
Before the beggar can respond, the younger assassin tosses a mooncake at her feet. The beggar stays still, her frail hand scooping it up and cracking it open to reveal a small golden coin hidden inside.
The black-hooded man sneers. “So that’s all you wanted? Some lousy mooncake?”
The beggar’s laughter is dry and cracked, like the sound of old bones. “This is no ordinary mooncake,” she says, holding up the coin. “It’s your death… but not the kind you know.”
The black-hooded man’s eyes narrow. “Who are you? And what do you know about the Moon Kingdom?”
The beggar lifts her head slightly, revealing a weathered face and eyes gleaming with an eerie intensity. “Names mean nothing here. Call me what you will. I’ve been in these caves longer than the stone itself.”
The black-hooded man, unsettled but hiding it, scoffs. “So you’re just some ghost here to scare us off?”
The beggar smiles faintly, but there’s no warmth in it. “No ghost. No story. You think you’re hunters? Killers? This cave hunts the hunters. It kills the killers.”
The older assassin steps closer, his voice now cold. “You know the way out, don’t you?”
The beggar’s eyes darken. “Out? There is no ‘out.’ You’re part of the cave now. Just like me.”
The younger assassin’s face hardens. “What’s waiting for us inside?”
The beggar coughs harshly, her voice sharpening. “You seek something deep within the heart of this cursed place. But you’ve already gone too far.”
Impatience boils over in the black-hooded man. “Enough riddles! Tell us where the Moon Kingdom is!”
The beggar’s bony hand points toward the tunnels ahead. “It lies within. But to touch it… will cost you more than your life.”
The black-hooded man glares at her, frustration growing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The beggar leans back against the wall, her voice barely a whisper. “Some things are worse than death. You’ll see soon enough.”
The black-hooded man steps closer, his curiosity piqued. “And you? Why are you still here?”
The beggar’s voice is a hollow echo. “Who said I’m alive? I am part of this place, like the bones in the walls. You can kill me if you like, but I’ll still be here long after you’re gone.”
The older assassin scowls, turning to the younger assassin. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go.”
The younger assassin nods, though his eyes linger on the beggar. “Yeah. Let’s move.”
As they walk away, the beggar’s raspy voice echoes through the cavern. “Beware the shadows. Beware the whispers in the dark.”
The older assassin glances back nervously, muttering under his breath. “We’re flesh and blood. You should be the one who’s afraid.”
The black-hooded man, eyes scanning the path ahead, whispers, “Sometimes, the ones who sound crazy are the ones who know the truth.”
Eternal Twilight of the Moon Kingdom
Yuwen Yue stands on a cliff towering in Qinghai, lost in thought over the mystical Moon Kingdom, forever drenched in soft silver glow of eternal twilight. This was a beautiful land hidden from the world but now dances at the whim of chaos for it stood between dimensions. Light from otherworldly shimmers across the skies; time stands meaningless—day and night blend into one continuous cycle, like a broken clock where no one can tell what time is it?
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the cold stone walls of the Snow White Rook. Outside, snow drifted silently, blanketing the Qinghai Yuestood by the window, gazing out at the frozen landscape, the weight of unspoken plans lingering between him andChu Qiao, who sat by the fire, sharpening her blade with slow, deliberate strokes.
After a moment of silence, Yuwen Yue’s voice broke through the quiet. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” he mused, his tone light but edged with irony. “After all these years, we end up here—alone, in a fortress no one else knows exists. Almost sounds like the start of a romantic tale.”
Chu Qiao smirked, not looking up from her blade. “Romantic? You think freezing in a stone castle on top of a cliff qualifies as romance? You must have very odd ideas about love, Yuwen Yue.”
Yuwen Yue turned slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You wound me. I’ve always thought of myself as the picture of charm. Haven’t you noticed?”
Chu Qiao finally glanced up, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Oh, I’ve noticed. Charm, buried somewhere under all that brooding and your tendency to keep everyone at a distance. Very charming.”
Yuwen Yue stepped closer, his tone playful but with a deeper current. “Is that what you think? That I keep you at a distance?”
Chu Qiao gave a half shrug, slipping her blade back into its sheath. “Not me. Just… most people. The ones you don’t trust.”
Yuwen Yue’s expression softened slightly. “And you think I don’t trust you?”
Chu Qiao paused, her eyes lifting to meet his. “Do you?”
A beat of silence passed between them before Yuwen Yue’s smirk returned, though his tone grew more serious. “I trust you more than most. I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t.”
Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “That’s comforting. But trust isn’t a battle plan, Yuwen Yue. We’ve got more than snow and silence to deal with.”
Yuwen Yue sighed, stepping to the window and gazing out at the snow-covered cliffs once again. His voice lowered, tinged with thoughtfulness. “The Moon Kingdom is in danger. Its balance is fragile. The twilight that protects it is fading, and it won’t hold much longer. If we lose the Moon Kingdom, it could throw all the realms into chaos.”
Chu Qiao’s sharp eyes studied him as she stood, folding her arms. “What exactly is your plan for the Moon Kingdom?”
Yuwen Yue’s expression darkened, his mind clearly turning over complex strategies. “The Moon Kingdom isn’t just a mystical land—it’s a key to keeping the balance between light and dark. The longer it remains protected by that eternal twilight, the longer we can keep the dark forces at bay. But the truth is, we can’t defend it forever. Lou He has retreated, and without her leadership, the realm is vulnerable.”
Chu Qiao stepped closer, her voice quiet but firm. “Then what are you planning?”
Yuwen Yue glanced at her, his expression calculating but honest. “We need to strengthen the Moon Kingdom’s defenses from within. Zao Baocung and the Skyshadow spies are holding off the dark breeds, but that won’t be enough. I want to create alliances—bring Qinghai’s forces and the remaining loyalists of the five realms together. If we can hold the Moon Kingdom, we can use it as a base to push back the darkness.”
Chu Qiao tilted her head, studying him. “You’re talking about more than just defense. You want to use the Moon Kingdom as a staging ground for a counterattack or bring in the Gurus along its Qinghai Queen and let them invade it? .”
Yuwen Yue gazed at Chu Qiao, his eyes cold and sharp as they shifted toward the horizon. His voice was low but unwavering. “No. The truth is, I planned to destroy it. The Moon Kingdom is strategically positioned between realms, and if we lose it, we lose access to the other dimensions. It will fall, as though no mysteries or powers remain within. This is the only way to secure the Moon people. Its underworld powers will lie dormant, and the spies from Jianghu and the underworld will be forced to lead modest lives.”
He paused, as if weighing his next words carefully. “It’s as if we now exist solely for the mortal world—no more secrets to unlock, no more tales to reveal.”
Chu Qiao stood in silence, her brow furrowed, contemplating the gravity of his words. She looked down at the ground, then back at him, her voice steady but filled with an underlying sadness. “So… the Moon Kingdom as we know it will cease to exist. It will be just another place in the mortal world, no longer the bridge between realms. Is this really the only way?”
Yuwen Yue nodded, his expression unyielding. “There are no other options, Chu Qiao. The Moon Kingdom’s very existence invites danger. Every portal, every secret, every hidden power is a risk—one that could plunge all realms into chaos. By closing this chapter, we protect not only the mortal world, but also the Moon people themselves. Their powers will fade into legend, and we will finally know peace.”
Chu Qiao stepped closer, her eyes searching his, looking for any trace of doubt. “And what of us? What becomes of those who have lived in the shadows, those who have fought for the truth, who sought the power hidden in those realms?”
Yuwen Yue’s gaze softened for a brief moment, though his tone remained firm. “We are no different. Our fight was always for the mortal world, for a future where such realms could no longer threaten what we hold dear. We will live for the present, without the weight of ancient secrets dragging us back. It’s time for us to let go.”
Chu Qiao inhaled deeply, her resolve hardening. “If we do this, there’s no going back.”
Yuwen Yue nodded. “No going back.”
There was a long pause as the wind rustled gently through the trees. Finally, Chu Qiao exhaled and spoke, her voice firm with acceptance. “Then I agree. If this is what it takes to protect the people and bring peace, I’ll stand by your side. Let the Moon Kingdom fall into the realm of mortals. No more portals, no more powers—only the world we know and can control.”
A brief flicker of relief crossed Yuwen Yue’s face, but it quickly disappeared, replaced by his usual steely resolve. “Good. Together, we will ensure the transition is smooth. The Moon people will be safeguarded, and the balance will be restored.”
Chu Qiao gave a small nod, determination clear in her eyes. “For peace.”
Yuwen Yue stood silent for a moment, his gaze lingering on the distant horizon where the Moon Kingdom once held untold mysteries and unseen powers. Now, it was nothing more than a fading shadow, its influence dissipating with each passing day. He turned to Chu Qiao, his voice low but determined. “With the Moon Kingdom falling into the mortal realm, the powers of the underworld and the shadows that have lurked between dimensions will begin to crumble. The Jianghu, the assassins, the spies—they will no longer have hidden realms to hide within or powers to pursue. But their skills, their influence—they won’t simply vanish.”
Chu Qiao nodded, her expression pensive. “They’ve lived in the shadows for so long, clinging to their old ways, driven by ambition, vengeance, or survival. But now, without the promise of forbidden knowledge or the allure of hidden powers, they will have no reason to remain in the dark.”
Yuwen Yue’s eyes narrowed slightly, his mind already working through the possibilities. “Exactly. Without the lure of the unknown realms, they’ll need to find a new purpose, a new order. If left unchecked, they could tear the mortal world apart in their pursuit of control. But if we guide them… if we offer them something different…”
Chu Qiao turned to face him fully, her voice calm but resolute. “A chance at redemption. A world where they can live openly, not as assassins or spies, but as people. A world where their skills can serve to protect rather than destroy. We could create that world, Yue. A community free from the shackles of power and the chains of the past.”
Yuwen Yue’s expression softened, though his tone remained firm. “The Freedom Community. A place where those from the Jianghu and the underworld can live with dignity, free from their old lives but still with a purpose. They’ll no longer live in the shadows or be bound by the expectations of their former masters. They’ll have a chance to build something new, something greater than themselves.”
Chu Qiao’s eyes gleamed with renewed hope. “A world where there are no more realms to fight for, no more secret powers to uncover—just the freedom to live as equals. If we can offer them that future, they’ll follow us. The assassins, the spies, even the elite warriors of the Jianghu—they’ve always longed for something more, something better. They just never knew it was possible.”
Yuwen Yue nodded. “We’ll gather them. Offer them the choice. Those who want to hold on to their old ways will face the consequences, but for those willing to step into the light, the Freedom Community will be a sanctuary, a new beginning.”
Chu Qiao’s voice was filled with conviction. “They deserve a second chance. We all do.”
The wind picked up around them, as if in response to their decision, carrying with it a sense of finality and renewal. Yuwen Yue reached out and took Chu Qiao’s hand, a rare moment of tenderness between them. “We’ll need strength, unity, and trust to build this world. But together, we can do it.”
Chu Qiao squeezed his hand, her resolve matching his. “We’ve fought in the shadows for too long. It’s time to step into the light and create a world where freedom, not power, rules.”
Yuwen Yue looked at her, a faint smile forming on his lips. “For the first time, we fight for a future we can believe in.”
Together, they turned their backs on the remnants of the Moon Kingdom, ready to face the new dawn ahead—a world where shadows no longer held dominion, and the Freedom Community promised a life beyond the chains of the past. Yet Chu Qiao did not finish this conversation yet.
Chu Qiao’s gaze was steady, her voice carrying a hint of irony despite the seriousness of the conversation. “So, you’re planning to turn a mystical kingdom into a fortress?”
Yuwen Yue’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Not quite. But the Moon Kingdom is more than just a beautiful place lost in eternal twilight. It’s a shield, a weapon, and a refuge. If we can harness its power to diffuse it, we stand a chance of winning this war.”
Chu Qiao crossed her arms, her tone thoughtful. “And what about Qinghai? You’re the crown prince, Yuwen Yue. You can’t forget your own people.”
Yuwen Yue’s gaze darkened at the mention of his homeland, and for a moment, the weight of responsibility seemed to settle heavier on his shoulders. “Qinghai will always be my priority. But the empire is fractured—infighting, corruption, and old wounds that still haven’t healed. I need to restore order there, rebuild what we lost, and unite the factions. Qinghai is strong, but it’s vulnerable.”
Chu Qiao nodded slowly. “So, you plan to destroy the Moon Kingdom and rebuild Qinghai at the same time?”
Yuwen Yue’s voice was low but determined. “Yes destroy and rebuild at the same time. The Moon Kingdom and Qinghai are intertwined. If one falls, the other will follow the opposite. We need both if we’re going to push back the darkness. Qinghai’s forces are strong, but they need leadership—unified leadership. That’s what I intend to bring.”
Chu Qiao’s eyes softened as she looked at him, her voice quieter. “And where do I fit into this plan of yours?”
Yuwen Yue turned to face her fully, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that left no room for doubt. “By my side. Always. You know as well as I do that I can’t do this alone.”
A moment of silence passed between them, the gravity of his words sinking in. Chu Qiao’s expression softened, but she couldn’t help the ironic smile that tugged at her lips. “So, after all these years, the great Yuwen Yue finally admits he needs help.”
Yuwen Yue chuckled, the sound soft but genuine. “I wouldn’t go that far. But you’ve always been my equal, Chu Qiao. I need you by my side—not just as a soldier or an ally, but as someone I trust.”
No more Slaves obeys, illegal channels? Chu Qiao stepped closer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, though the teasing tone remained. “Don’t get too sentimental on me now, Yuwen Yue. I might start to think you’ve gone soft.”
Yuwen Yue smiled, the tension easing slightly as their banter returned. “Soft? Never. I just know I met a slave who lured me in her slave status.
Yuwen Yue, sitting by the fire, stares at Chu Qiao, his eyes filled with exaggerated disbelief. He sighs loudly and dramatically. “So, let me get this straight, Xing’er. I, the Great Yuwen Yue, the heir of the Eyes of God, Yuwen’s fourth branch Young Master of Strategy and Lures, the one who outwits generals, warlords, and assassins for breakfast, was completely fooled by a…slave. A SLAVE? Who, it turns out, is actually the leader of the Moon Kingdom, Star Child, whatever? Did I get that right?”
Chu Qiaoraises an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. “Yeah, pretty much. But you make it sound like Itrickedyou on purpose. I never said I was just a slave, Yue. You just…assumed.” She gives him an innocent smile.
Yuwen Yue scoffs, leaning back dramatically. “Oh, yes, because when I first saw you, dressed in rags, scrubbing floors with all the grace of a royal mop wielder, my immediate thought was, ‘Aha! This is clearly the Star Child! The ruler of an entire celestial kingdom!'”
Chu Qiao shrugs nonchalantly. “You missed the signs.”
Yuwen Yue’s jaw drops, his voice thick with sarcasm. “The signs? Oh, forgive me for not noticing thesubtleclues, like the way you couldalmostget killed every other day. Very Star Child-like behavior. Really gave it away.”
Chu Qiao grins, unable to hide her amusement. “Well, it worked, didn’t it? You never suspected a thing. In fact, I’d say you went above and beyond. Climbing mountains, dodging traps, solving riddles. Very impressive, by the way. All to protect a poor, ‘helpless’ slave.” She adds air quotes for emphasis.
Yuwen Yue groans, rubbing his temples. “Oh, don’t remind me. Do you know how many times I nearly died trying to protect you? How many ancient scrolls I had to decode? I should have been reading the prophecy of theStar Child, but no, I was too busy saving you fromlaundry duty.”
Chu Qiao leans in, laughing. “Well, I have to admit, watching you stumble through all those ‘trials’ to discover my identity was quite entertaining. Especially that time you almost got crushed by that boulder. You were so close, Yue.”
Yuwen Yue narrows his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ah, yes, I remember that boulder well. It was about five tons of rock that nearly flattened I was looking for a ‘secret treasure’ that turned out to be you. A treasure I apparently already owned but didn’t even know it.”
Chu Qiao chuckles. “See, you should’ve just asked me. I could’ve told you right away: ‘Hi, I’m Xing’er, leader of the Moon Kingdom. Please, no need for all the life-threatening drama.'”
Yuwen Yue throws his hands up. “Well, excuse me for trying to uncovertruths! You know, some people don’t just go around handing out their royal lineage over tea.”
Chu Qiao smirks. “And yet, here we are, Mr. Fourth Young Master… or should I say,Ra Yue, Crown Prince of Qinghai?” Her eyes glint with amusement as she watches his reaction.
Yuwen Yue freezes, his playful grin faltering for just a second before he recovers with mock horror. “Oh, no. You figured it out. What gave me away? Was it the fact that I triedso hardto be a mysterious heir to the Eyes of God? Or was it my overly dramatic entrances? I thought I did a pretty good job playing the humble ‘Fourth Young Master’ card.”
Chu Qiao crosses her arms, feigning a thoughtful look. “Well, it wasn’t exactly subtle. The way you command an army, the whole ‘strategic mastermind’ thing, the fact that people kept whispering about Qinghai every time you left a room… And let’s not forget your endless supply of mysterious connections. Veryhumblefor a fourth son.”
Yuwen Yue winces, shaking his head. “Ah, yes, Qinghai. The land I’m apparently supposed toruleone day. But, you know, I was really getting into the whole ‘Eyes of God’ persona. Felt very…mysterious.”
Chu Qiao stifles a laugh. “Mysterious? You? Yue, you’re about as mysterious as an open book.”
Yuwen Yue holds a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I’ll have you know, I’ve spentyearscultivating my aura of mystery. I mean, didn’t my thousand-yard stare scream ‘enigmatic prince’? Not to mention the whole ’emotionally unavailable’ vibe. Come on, Inailedit.”
Chu Qiao chuckles, shaking her head. “Sure, Yue. If by ‘nailed it,’ you mean everyone could see right through you except, apparently, me. How did I not figure out that the guy with unlimited resources and control over elite warriors might be more than just some random young master?”
Yuwen Yue waves her off, grinning. “Ah, well, you were too busy pretending to be aslave, remember? Too focused on scrubbing those floors with ‘royal grace.'”
Chu Qiao rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. I had to keep it low-key. I couldn’t have you figuring out I was the Star Child before I could see how many times you’d actually throw yourself in danger for me.”
Yuwen Yue laughs, leaning in closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “You know, I should’ve known when you survived all those assassination attempts without breaking a sweat. That wasn’t normal ‘slave’ behavior.”
Chu Qiao smiles sweetly. “You’re just slow, Yue.”
Yuwen Yue gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Me? Slow? Oh no, I prefer to think of myself as…methodical. You know, taking my time to make sure I wasn’t jumping to any wild conclusions. Like you, for instance, not telling me that the person I’m risking my life for is secretly the most powerful figure in the realm!”
Chu Qiao shrugs playfully. “I thought the element of surprise made things more interesting. Kept you on your toes.”
Yuwen Yue sighs with mock defeat. “Well, congratulations. You kept me on my toes, alright. And you—” he points at her accusingly, “—enjoyed every second of it, didn’t you?”
Chu Qiao grins widely. “Oh, absolutely. Watching you piece it together, one cryptic clue at a time, was the best entertainment I’ve had inyears.”
Yuwen Yue shakes his head, chuckling. “Great. So, we’re both royal idiots who got played by each other’s ‘humble’ personas. You as the undercover Star Child, me as the not-so-humble Crown Prince of Qinghai.”
Chu Qiao leans back, folding her arms smugly. “Well, I guess the real mystery here is how we ever managed to fool each other for so long.”
Yuwen Yue smirks. “I think the real mystery is why I kept rescuing you when you clearly didn’t need saving.”
Chu Qiao gives him a teasing look. “Maybe you just enjoy the thrill of being the hero, Yue. Or maybe you’re just a sucker for a good damsel-in-distress act.”
Yuwen Yue chuckles. “More like a sucker for overly complicated, life-threatening situations. It’s not my fault you’re a magnet for chaos.”
Chu Qiao laughs. “Well, now that the secret’s out, I guess we can stop pretending, right?”
Yuwen Yue grins slyly. “Stop pretending? Where’s the fun in that? I’m sure there are a few more secret identities we haven’t uncovered yet.”
Chu Qiao raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Got any more royal titles hidden up your sleeve, Prince Ra Yue?”
Yuwen Yue leans in with a smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He sighed again, though his smirk betrayed his amusement. “That I am, Xing’er. That I am.”
Yuwen Yue looked at her like he is gonna kiss her.
But Chu Qiao shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “I have good strategy or not, back to the Qinghai and Moon Kingdom people topic, this plan of yours is ambitious. You’re talking about uniting realms and empires. Even for you, that’s a tall order.”
Yuwen Yue’s expression grew serious again, his voice steady but filled with resolve. “I know it’s ambitious. But we don’t have a choice. The darkness is spreading, and if we don’t act now, everything we’ve fought for will be lost. The Moon Kingdom, Qinghai… they both need to survive. And we need to survive to protect them.”
Chu Qiao’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before she nodded, her voice quieter but filled with determination. “Then let’s make sure we do.”
Yuwen Yue smiled faintly, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “We will. Together.”
As the snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the world in white, the fire in the hearth crackled warmly, casting their shadows against the walls of the Snow White Rook. In that quiet, hidden fortress, the weight of their shared destiny hung between them—both Qinghai and the Moon Kingdom relying on their strength, their trust, and their ability to fight together against the coming storm.
Prison with No Walls
Viper had never been this busy—at least not until the Gurus were captured and detained in the Moon Kingdom’s prison.
This wasn’t her first encounter with them, yet she echoed Zao Baocung’s sentiment: “These are not ordinary people.”
When Zao Baocung inspected them, he found the Gurus meditating in peculiar postures. Within the prison, they appeared like druid priests or monks, though something about them was decidedly otherworldly.
Attempting to describe them further, Viper asked, “Then what are they?”
In a tone as if beginning a bedtime story, Zao Baocung replied, “Once upon a time…”
Viper rolled her eyes, disliking Zao Baocung’s tendency to ramble, and snapped, “Do you want to taste this whip?” At that moment, the Gurus, who had appeared indifferent, gathered closer within their wall-less prison. They spoke in a language known only to them, whispering as if sharing secrets.
Zao Baocung smirked, “So, the all-knowing Gurus can’t find their way out of a prison that doesn’t even exist. You’d think they’d be able to ‘enlighten’ themselves past a few invisible walls.”
Viper chuckled. “I don’t like that smirk, Zao. It says more about them ‘seeking wisdom’ than actually finding it. Maybe they’re still just ‘finding themselves.'”
“Right,” he replied, scratching his head with a bored look, “and by ‘finding,’ you mean wandering in circles, hoping the answer appears.”
“Maybe they’re onto something big this time. Look at them—so close to touching Ximeng’s power!” Viper snorted, playing with her whip as the Gurus stared at it as if seeing it for the first time.
“Ximeng’s power isn’t some riddle they can chant their way through,” Zao retorted. “The Qinghai Queen has been trying for decades to harness it, and it’s still beyond their grasp.”
“Well, that means you’ve done a good job,” Viper said with a grin. “You’ve got to admire their persistence… even if they’re failing spectacularly.”
“Ah, but their failure is so beautifully enlightening, don’t you think?” Zao Baocung’s remark was an intentional insult, and they both laughed as the Gurus continued their futile attempts to break free from the invisible prison, oblivious to the mockery.
Meanwhile, as the Moon Kingdom faced exposure across the Ximeng Continent, Lou He had retreated to the farthest northern reaches. She wandered alone in the Hellfrost, her memory lost, in a place where the sky seemed frozen in eternal twilight.
She noticed that here, time hardly moved; it was unlike any other land, with barely any sunrise at all. The atmosphere alone deterred most Qinghai citizens from entering or exploring.
Life in the Moon Kingdom continued as usual, though the Qinghai Empire anxiously awaited the return of their princes, Ra Zheng and Ra Zhun. Their absence had deeply impacted Qinghai, and with Ra Yue and Chu Qiao also vanishing after their battle, Qinghai’s situation grew dire. The Gurus’ capture in the Moon Kingdom only worsened matters.
When the Qinghai Queen received the news, she was furious. Left with only her Gorge spies, she plotted her next move. As the shadow empire of Qinghai, the Moon Kingdom’s expertise in espionage covered the entire Ximeng continent, leaving nothing unknown or unnoticed. The realms of this shadow empire went beyond mere lures, traps, or stratagems; they posed eternal damnation to both the body and soul. Yet to outsiders, the underworld realms seemed populated by beings like mortals. If they chose to reveal themselves, these beings often brought a fragile peace amidst the chaos, though they were more resilient than most mortals, able to withstand immense pain, knowledge, and skill.
Although Zao Baocung had chosen to imprison the Gurus, he wasn’t convinced it was wise.
“These Gurus are powerful enchanters,” he admitted. “They can cast spells and summon entities capable of crippling an empire. I’d rather expel them than capture them.” Still, he saw potential in their knowledge and ultimately followed Skyshadow’s advice when she said, “A prison with no walls is pointless! Aren’t you confident in your power to contain them?”
“I’m a Chu Jing healer!” Zao Baocung protested. “My powers are for healing, not torture. Viper would be better suited for this job!”
And so, Viper took on the role of their “torture master,” set to discipline the Gurus if they behaved suspiciously. New to the Moon Kingdom, the Gurus had studied Qinghai texts for decades, yet this firsthand experience was entirely unfamiliar.
Skyshadow let out a small chuckle. “So, off to this duty you go. What do you plan to do now that the Moon Kingdom is exposed? No more hidden rivers or ersatz realms. Looks like you’re ready for retirement.”
Zao Baocung, in a slightly childish tone, replied, “I miss them.”
Skyshadow raised a brow, “Which ones? The haunting souls or the dark breeds?”
“No, I want to retreat to Hellfrost and talk to Di Fu,” Zao Baocung smirked.
Viper, overhearing their banter, remarked, “I miss the Urshan!”
Skyshadow, usually reserved, chuckled and said, “I saw him by the Normal River. No longer forgotten, he looked like any other man, just hanging around with his boat.”
Viper, surprised by her own amusement, laughed, “Not ferrying souls like in his monster days?”
“No, now he’s just ferrying fruit and helping Moon people cross the waters.”
Skyshadow stretched, and the three of them gazed at the Urshan.
Recalling his appearance, Viper described him: “He’s of average height but carries himself as though he were much larger. His skin has a pale luminescence, as if he exists partly in shadows. His hair, blacker than midnight, falls to his shoulders, usually tied back. His chiseled cheekbones and powerful jaw give him an intense, resolved air.
“But his eyes are his most striking feature—slitted pupils, glowing silver in the dark. They have a way of holding people still, and he can read intentions with uncanny accuracy. He’s the Great Urshan, the divine boatman who ferries souls from the mortal world to the afterlife.”
Zao Baocung interrupted, “Without the Ersatz Realm, the Forgotten River is no longer accessible to the afterlife. No one will ferry souls. When a mortal dies, it’ll be up to the gods to lead them—if they lead them anywhere at all.”
Skyshadow, intrigued, asked, “And what about us?”
Viper waited for Zao Baocung’s answer.
In a somber tone, he replied, “We will likely end the same way.”
Chapter 90
Far away Star
The man in the black hood said, “It seems we are just circling in this maze.”
Suddenly, the young assassin exclaimed, “I found a way out!” All three of them ran to see the view.
An endless valley met their eyes. Beautiful butterflies and dragonflies flew by, with swarms of fireflies lighting up the scene, twinkling like stars in the heavens and mesmerizing them.
However, as they looked back, the Thousand Caves had vanished from sight.
The older assassin remembered the old beggar’s warning and said, “Your Highness, forgive me, but I think we are not just lost… we are trapped out here!”
Yan Xun removed his hood, showing no fear, and with a hint of nostalgia scanned his surroundings, saying, “As long as we are alive, this is still Earth! This is a great adventure, don’t you think? We’ll find our way home and beat the odds!”
Yan Xun stepped into the unknown realm. Not even in his dreams had he seen such a place. Yet somehow, he felt peaceful and renewed, as if his worries had faded away like mist in the moonlight.
The young assassin took out his watch and looked at his compass, which pointed to an infinity symbol. He hesitated, not wanting to trouble the King. But Yan Xun, noticing, asked, “What is our direction?” and fell silent when he saw the assassin’s unreadable expression.
Yan Xun then saw a hare passing by, and to his delight, took aim with his white-feathered arrows, shooting it swiftly.
The two companions were astonished, not by the kill but by how the King of Yanbei enjoyed each moment in the valley. His demeanor here was different from his usual attitude in the Yanbei war council.
Yan Xun went over to retrieve the hare, then called out, “Hey! What are you doing? Come here! Let’s feast!”
The two companions approached, and they cooked the hare together. In all their journeys, they were always prepared, with tools for hunting and cooking. They camped, feeling as though they owned the valley, with no threats looming. Relaxed and carefree, they lay back and gazed at the stars.
Snow whipped against the window of a secluded castle, casting flickering shadows across the dimly lit room. Yuwen Yue stirred a pot over the fire, the golden glow highlighting his finely sculpted features.
Yuwen Yue stood with an air of quiet authority, his pale blue robes flowing gracefully around him, symbolizing both his noble lineage and unshakable composure. The light, ethereal color reflected his reserved personality and the cool detachment with which he approached the world. His expression was calm, almost unreadable, hinting at the deep intelligence and emotional restraint that defined him.
Though outwardly serene, there was an undercurrent of strength and decisiveness in his stance. His sharp, focused eyes suggested a man who observed everything, noticing even the subtlest details. As a master strategist and warrior, Yuwen Yue hid his emotions behind a collected facade, revealing little of his inner thoughts to those around him. This composed exterior made him seem distant, yet those close enough to see past it recognized him as a protector who held his values and loved ones with unwavering loyalty.
The image of Yuwen Yue captured him as a figure of refinement and mystery, embodying the tension between his noble responsibilities and the personal sacrifices he endured in pursuit of justice and honor.
His complex character was defined by sharp intellect, a reserved demeanor, and a deeply-rooted sense of duty. As a member of a prominent noble family in the Wei dynasty, Yuwen Yue possessed a calm yet commanding presence. Trained from a young age to be a skilled warrior and strategist, he upheld family expectations with calculated restraint and tactical skill, both on and off the battlefield. Despite his high status, Yuwen Yue’s character was marked by internal struggle; he often felt torn between loyalty to his family and his own desires.
Beneath his calm exterior lay a compassionate soul, though this part of him was often hidden under a mask of indifference, developed through years of self-discipline. His stoic, sometimes cold facade served as a shield against the betrayals and power struggles of his world. However, his emotional walls began to crack upon meeting Chu Qiao, whose bravery and resilience deeply impacted him. Her presence ultimately forced him to confront his own vulnerabilities, showing him that there was more to life than duty.
Time seemed to slow; his every movement was graceful yet purposeful, bearing the quiet dignity of someone who carried the weight of empires. Across from him, Chu Qiao watched, her gaze intense, her beauty softened by the firelight. Her porcelain skin and luminous eyes, framed by dark lashes, glowed with a warmth as fierce as it was delicate. She was a puzzle—a warrior in an alluring form that hid her strength.
Chu Qiao exuded fierce determination, her gaze calm yet intense as she held her sword upright in a symbolic gesture of resilience. Dressed in a striking red robe adorned with intricate patterns, she radiated strength and an unyielding spirit. The deep crimson of her attire signified both passion and defiance, reflecting her unbreakable will and readiness to fight for justice. Her expression was focused and serene, embodying a warrior’s composure, her eyes closed as if in silent resolve for the challenges she faced.
The ornate details on her sword symbolized the dignity and honor with which she approached battles; her weapon was more than a tool—it was a testament to her journey from hardship to empowerment. The traditional hair ornament she wore completed the image of a warrior with a noble soul, someone poised between grace and ferocity.
This portrayal of Chu Qiao captured her dual nature: the softness of her compassion and the steel of her resolve. She was both a protector and a fighter, driven by a sense of justice as unyielding as the blade she wielded.
Chu Qiao was an inspiring character marked by an unbreakable will, resilience, and a deep sense of justice. From humble, oppressed origins, she rose to challenge the injustices of her world with remarkable courage and tenacity. Chu Qiao’s story was one of transformation; she evolved from a slave into a formidable fighter who refused to be confined by her circumstances. Strategic and sharp-minded, she often outwitted those who underestimated her.
Unlike Yuwen Yue, whose emotions were tempered by years of restraint, Chu Qiao wore her passions openly. Her sense of justice and empathy were unwavering, and she often risked herself to protect the innocent. Through her encounters with Yuwen Yue, Chu Qiao’s character deepened as she learned to balance defiance with patience. Together, they shared a powerful dynamic: while Yuwen Yue helped temper her impetuous nature, she challenged him to reconsider his strict adherence to duty.
“Well, this is a sight I never thought I’d see—Yuwen Yue cooking,” she remarked dryly. “I guess the world really is ending.”
He glanced at her, unamused. “Apparently, my reputation can’t withstand something as simple as making soup,” he replied, his voice cold but laced with irony. “I thought you might be used to surprises by now.”
Chu Qiao smirked, her words tinged with mock admiration. Oh, I’ve had my share with you, believe me. Like our wedding, for instance. You arranged it faster than I could blink—then the engagement followed before I could catch my breath. Very…efficient.”
Yuwen Yue raised an eyebrow. “Efficiency. I thought you might appreciate it. If I recall, you didn’t complain.”
She shot him a pointed look. “Maybe because I thought you meant it. Funny, I felt more like a strategy or test than a bride.”
Yuwen Yue’s gaze didn’t waver. “A strategy?” He gave a slight, humorless smile. “You think I’d risk everything just to add another strategist to my council?”
“Who knows,” Chu Qiao retorted, though her voice softened, her voice faltering. “It wouldn’t be the first time you hid your true intentions, Yuwen Yue.”
They locked eyes, tension thickening the air between them. The fire popped, breaking the silence. Finally, Yuwen Yue turned back to the pot, his movements controlled.
“My intentions were always clear, Chu Qiao, though perhaps too clear for you to see.”
“Oh, I saw them,” she shot back. “Ra Yue was the man I loved, who didn’t hide, who let me in, even when everything else was uncertain. I didn’t see the guarded, distant Yuwen Yue in him.”
A flicker of something flashed in his gaze—hurt, or something more vulnerable. He forced a chuckle, low and humorless. “You think Ra Yue was different? He was a disguise, maybe, but the heart and feelings—those were mine.”
Chu Qiao’s face softened. “Were they? Because from where I stood, I couldn’t tell if Yuwen Yue wanted anything beyond control. Ra Yue gave me something real, something you keep buried.”
He set the ladle down, his patience waning as he leaned toward her. “If I don’t show my hand as you’d like, it doesn’t mean the feeling isn’t there,” he said, frustration lacing his voice. “I am who I am, and I won’t apologize.”
She looked away, though a faint smirk tugged at her mouth. “Typical Yuwen Yue. All stone and cold logic.”
“Stone, yes. But cold?” His voice softened. “You think I postponed that honeymoon because I lost interest? That I didn’t want you by my side?” His gaze narrowed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I postponed because I thought you needed time. When I was ready, you left me and took the bird that sang your name every morning. Do you know how hard life is, without it?”
Her eyes snapped back to him, edged with vulnerability. “I had already decided, Yuwen Yue. I left because I loved you. But back then, everything was a mess. I saw too much of Yuwen Yue in Ra Yue… I just couldn’t forget.”
Yuwen Yue held her gaze, softening briefly. “Maybe I thought it was you who couldn’t decide. You never could quite separate me from Yan Xun and, to complicate things, almost convinced me you loved that Foxy Emperor in Liang!”
Chu Qiao scoffed, her voice wavering. “Yan Xun?” Her gaze dropped, her voice soft. “Others predicted that, even I questioned it. But when I lost you in the lake, I knew it was never Yan Xun. And Xiao Ce? He gave me the moon and stars, knowing full well I loved Ra Yue—the one who seemed free of all this weight, who could laugh and care, even if he never said it.”
Yuwen Yue looked at her, his stoic expression softening. “Then understand this: Ra Yue was no different than I am now. He is a glimpse beneath the titles. My feelings have never changed.”
Chu Qiao blinked, regret and understanding flickering across her face. “Maybe I needed you to show it.”
He moved closer, the hint of a smile fading into something earnest.
“If I haven’t made it clear by now, then maybe I’ve already failed you.”
She looked up, her defenses down, her voice barely a whisper. “I think you’re the only one who hasn’t failed me, Yuwen Yue.”
For once, he didn’t reply with sarcasm. He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek as he looked at her, all pretense fading. “Then let’s put the past where it belongs,” he murmured, his voice soft yet resolute, “and try to find something real.”
Yuwen Yue gazed into Chu Qiao’s eyes, his expression intense as he moved closer, lingering and wanting her, here and now, with no one to hold them back.
In his unspoken words, Yuwen Yue told her all self-preservation is canceled now. Xing’er, You can’t go anywhere. Let’s face this—there is no tomorrow.
Yuwen Yue kissed her deeply, and Chu Qiao did not hesitate.
She had tasted this kiss before and missed it dearly. Her eyes welled with tears as she closed them, her lips pressed against his, her mind drifting back to stolen glances and whispered promises. Every day, she had wished for this moment.
Chu Qiao managed to hold Yuwen Yue’s face and whispered, “You never knew how I wished for you every day. When I lost you… I died in that icy lake, my breath frozen. Losing you was losing myself.”
Yuwen Yue gazed at her with an allure he’d never shown before, moved by her words he had longed to hear. “Wishful thinking… My dreams came true that day—kissing you before I thought I’d die. In that icy lake, I closed my eyes, thinking it would be the last time I’d see Xing’er’s eyes.”
Yuwen Yue’s kiss deepened, wanting Chu Qiao to respond freely, without shame or thoughts of past roles or ranks.
His ears turned red, his veins pulsing with emotions he had never before allowed himself to feel.
Chu Qiao responded, her lips meeting his, and a flutter spread through her like a hundred butterflies.
“What is this…?” she softly moaned, pausing. “Yuwen Yue, I feel…” She stopped. Yuwen Yue continued, whispering against her lips.
“Let it go, Xing’er…”
Between kisses and shared breaths, Yuwen Yue’s touch explored her neck, filling her senses with the familiar scent of plum blossoms, mingling with the scent of early May rain.
“This is my reward,” she thought, “the scent of the Fourth Young Master that hasn’t changed.”
Yuwen Yue trailed more kisses down her neck, his lips never stopping. Hearing her breathless sounds, he murmured, “Release it, Xing’er, don’t hold back.”
Chu Qiao, now without strength to resist, felt the long-held feelings bloom. With each touch, each breath, Yuwen Yue was claiming her entirely.
His hands drifted down, finding her warmth, lingering gently, cherishing her as delicately as a lotus in bloom.
Chu Qiao felt her sanity is slipping. “Yuwen Yue, please…” she begged, a voiceless moan escaping her lips as she surrendered.
He looked at her, ensuring she was okay, before saying, “I’m sorry, but tonight, Xing’er, I won’t stop. All these years… Why hide your feelings from me? This has always been for me.”
Yuwen Yue had just begun to grasp the depth of Chu Qiao’s hidden feelings, feelings buried for so long, now flowing freely.
“You were right about me,” he murmured. “I was foolish to think you didn’t care. I’ll regret that every day, but I’ll never let you hide from me again.”
Yuwen Yue repeated his tender touches explored her like an undiscovered forest full of secrets, until Chu Qiao was left speechless, a contented sigh her only reply.
“How could you mask these feelings?” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.” You’ve buried these feelings so deep, but they’re mine now. All for me.”
“We might have died without ever knowing them, buried alongside us.”
Chu Qiao’s tears fell, but she understood now. Yuwen Yue’s resolve was set; he was here to create her happiness alongside his own.
After years apart, with words left unsaid, Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao had found each other again. This, though belated, was their reunion, filled with sweetness and the release of long-hidden emotions.
Outside, the relentless snow buried the castle, and icy layers cloaked it in silence. Yet, within the walls, the rulers had retreated from the world, their presence absent from the throne. Could they remain here, hidden, before duty pulled them back?
Inside, a loud crackling sound broke the stillness—a pot had boiled over in the kitchen, spilling and scorching. The smoke filled the room, but Yuwen Yue only gazed at Chu Qiao, undisturbed by the small disaster.
Finally, he shook his head, smiling slightly as he reached for her. “I hate this,” he murmured, pulling her close. “Just give me a minute?”
Still drenched in his scent, Chu Qiao teased, “Sure. I’d rather not be roasted alive tonight.”
Yuwen Yue chuckled, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Roasted alive?” he echoed, his voice serious yet gentle. “Even if death itself tried to take you from me, it would fail. Nothing—no fire, no threat from Yanbei, not even death—can separate us.”
Chu Qiao’s playful expression softened, her gaze dropping. Yuwen Yue’s words stirred her deeply, her fears mixed with desires she had scarcely voiced.
“Yanbei?” she asked with a faint smile. “I thought we were long past that.”
His expression turned thoughtful, his gaze unwavering. “Some things, like love and loyalty, can’t be settled or silenced,” he whispered. “Not even by time.”
Yuwen Yue wrestled with the fire, determined to keep the flames from spreading. He pulled the charred pot off the stove, only to find the soup reduced to a blackened, inky sludge. “Well, that’s a waste,” he muttered, shaking his head in resignation.
Chu Qiao paused, her gaze drifting as she considered his words, realizing the deeper meaning they carried. “You know,” she said quietly, her voice softened with thought, “for a time, I imagined staying in Yanbei for the rest of my life. The endless grasslands and the forever snow felt like they’d swallowed me whole, turning everything cold, distant—even me.” She hesitated, her eyes lost in memory. “It’s a different kind of cold. You don’t feel it at first. It just…numbs you, deep down.”
Yuwen Yue watched her, the familiar glint of understanding in his gaze.
“But maybe I needed it,” she continued, a faint smile touching her lips. “That coldness taught me things warmth never could. It showed me what kindness and warmth really mean—things I might never have learned otherwise.”
Yuwen Yue turned away from the scorched pot with a resigned sigh, his gaze falling on Chu Qiao. Despite his usual cold demeanor, he couldn’t shake the warmth blooming inside him—an odd feeling of closeness he hadn’t allowed himself to indulge in before. Silently, Chu Qiao stood and went to set about preparing tea, reaching for a small wooden tray and arranging delicate cups, her hands moving with practiced grace.
“Wait here,” she murmured, disappearing briefly before returning with a small assortment of late-night treats: a bowl of bao bing (flaky pastry filled with sweet red bean paste), a plate of gui hua gao (fragrant osmanthus flower cakes), and shuang pi nai (a creamy, double-skin milk custard).
She poured the tea slowly, watching the steam curl up, its warm, earthy aroma filling the air between them. Setting a cup in front of Yuwen Yue, she allowed himself a long, lingering look, admiring the way the firelight played across his face. Despite the cold stone walls around them, there was a glow in his eyes, a spark that seemed to say goodbye to her guarded heart.
Taking a slow sip, he said, “You always speak of Yanbei’s coldness. But…you don’t miss it, do you?”
Chu Qiao took a moment to answer, her hands wrapped around the tea cup, letting the warmth seep into her skin. “I don’t know if it’s something you can ‘miss,'” she replied softly, “but Yanbei is a part of me. I learned survival there—the kind that reaches beyond battlefields.” She gave him a sideways glance. “It’s the place where I learned who I could trust and who I could not.”
Yuwen Yue felt the faintest trace of a smile tug at the corners of his lips. “Trust can be as brittle as ice on a winter morning. Did you know why I came to Yanbei that day?”
Chu Qiao didn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the tea swirling in her cup. “Yes and no. Yes because I think, in a way, you trust me more than anyone else,” she admitted. “You’re like the mountains that break the wind—always there, always standing firm. But…you’re not an easy man to understand. so I say no.”
“Nor are you,” he replied, his voice softened but steady. “But that doesn’t mean we aren’t meant to understand each other.”
She looked up, surprised by the tenderness in his words, but he only returned a cool, enigmatic gaze, maintaining the calm mask he always wore. Beneath that expression, though, Yuwen Yue felt an intensity swelling in his chest. He had always prided himself on his restraint, his calculated decisions, yet here he was, entirely captivated by her presence.
He poured them both more tea, feeling the weight of each passing moment, the gravity of their unspoken words. “Do you ever wonder,” he began, his voice a low murmur, “if we’ve spent too much time fighting battles outside and forgotten the ones within ourselves?”
Chu Qiao looked thoughtful. “Sometimes I do. But I’ve also come to realize that those battles, however lonely or painful, can be the very thing that shapes us. They remind us of what’s worth fighting for, what we’d die to protect.”
Yuwen Yue let her words sink in, his expression hardening slightly. Beneath his composed exterior, he was deeply moved. To him, Chu Qiao was more than just an ally or a companion—she was the very reason he continued to hold onto his strength. The knowledge that she depended on him, relied on his unwavering resolve, was both a burden and a gift he cherished more than he’d ever admit.
He reached across the table, brushing his fingers lightly against her hand, the smallest gesture that spoke more than words. “Know this, Chu Qiao,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “As long as I draw breath, you’ll never be alone. Not fire, not Yanbei, not even death will take you from me.”
Barely above a whisper, Chu Qiao’s voice trembled with the memories. “When they told me about you,” she began, her voice soft yet steady, “I knew that even if there was only a one percent chance it was true, you’d go. You couldn’t bear to leave even the smallest hope unchecked. But when you discovered it was a trap—that you’d been right, that 99 percent of it was a lie—you made sure Yanbei felt the weight of his betrayal. You taught Yan Xun a lesson he’d never forget, one he’d regret the moment he tried to use me to deceive you.”
She paused, a shadow crossing her face. “But that day changed him,” she continued, her voice low and haunted. “After that, Yan Xun didn’t just seek revenge. He was consumed, driven by a hunger for blood rather than justice. His heart was hardened, and his vision clouded. He no longer saw a battlefield but a bloodbath, thirsty not for vengeance, but for the thrill of power.”
Her eyes fell, and her voice grew firmer, as if sealing her own fate. “And so, I cut myself from him. What happened to Yuegong that day, I, Chu Qiao, am no longer bound by the hem of his robe. I no longer care what Yan Xun does or where his path leads.” Her voice softened, yet a note of defiance lingered. “It doesn’t concern me anymore.”
Yuwen Yue listened intently, his gaze unwavering as her words grew in intensity.
“He tried to restrain me,” she continued, her voice trembling with emotion. “He sent men, arrows, and walls to block my way. But I was beyond his reach, beyond his orders or his fury. I no longer walked in that world. All I knew—all I cared about—was that massacre is unforgivable, and you. I knew you would face him, no matter the cost, to teach him that lesson. Even if it meant your life, your reputation, your title…”
Her voice faltered, but she pressed on, each word thick with emotion. “You didn’t fear his armies, his forces. You were willing to sacrifice everything. And in that moment, I knew that you would be there until the last breath. That’s when I realized—I’d lost him to his darkness, but you…”
“That day, you stood alone on the icy lake, surrounded by your the Eyes of God servants and assassins. You faced The World and his 200,000 cavalry with only 300 men. I watched you, being peeled layer by layer by those loyal few, and my heart almost stopped. There was blood on your Hanfu, dripping down, staining the snow like its claiming you soon.” She swallowed hard, her voice breaking. “Your sword was bathed in that red mist. You looked so proud, so resolute…but I could see it. I saw it in the way you stood, the sweat beading on your brow—you were barely holding on, all of this just because of me?” I know better now.
Yuwen Yue moved closer, his gaze holding a mixture of understanding and sorrow. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly over hers, anchoring her in that fragile moment. “You may have cut yourself off from him,” he said quietly, “but he wasn’t willing to lose control over you without a fight. Yet, even with all that’s happened… despite the paths we’ve taken, everyone was lost that day.” He paused, his voice faltering slightly. “Even I was lost—lost the moment you left Yan Xun. I found myself finding answers, but in that moment, I found the meaning of life… through you.”
A bittersweet smile flickered across Chu Qiao’s face. Her eyes softened, brimming with a rare vulnerability. “How could I abandon you?”
All of my battle plans faded. My time and tested strategies dried up. All I knew was that I had to get to you,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I begged The World to stop, to let this pass, to turn the odds just once in your favor. But…he didn’t. I saw you fall. I saw the last sign of life leave your eyes, and I felt my heart stop with yours.” she whispered, her voice scarcely more than a breath.
“After everything, I had nothing left but the memory of your kindness, Yuwen Yue. I feel as though I owe you not just one lifetime, but countless ones. And for that… I’d give anything. Even my life.”
A flicker of pain crossed Yuwen Yue’s face, though he stayed silent, listening intently.
Yuwen Yue’s hand tightened around hers, his heart laid bare in that single gesture. “You owe me nothing,” he replied softly, his voice firm. “Your presence alone is more than I ever thought I’d have. The world could turn against us, but as long as I have you by my side…” He paused, gathering his strength. “I would live, I would die, and I would come back a thousand times over.”
Yuwen Yue’s gaze lingered on her, his face drawn with both admiration and something deeper, fiercer—a devotion he’d never allowed himself to show. “And that’s why I returned, Chu Qiao,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Not because of duty or pride, but because of you. You are my purpose… the reason I fought my way back from death.”
Silence hung between them, the air heavy with shared pain and memory. Then, unable to hold back any longer, Yuwen Yue moved closer hugged Chu Qiao and let her feel his heartbeat as gentle as the first snowfall, his expression shadowed by anguish, yet softened by something deeper.
“I thought I died that day,” he said, his voice barely above a murmur. He reached out, his hand brushing her cheek, his touch warm against her cool skin. “But somewhere in that darkness, between life and death, I saw your face. I screamed, over and over, telling myself I couldn’t be dead. I wouldn’t be dead. I swore I’d come back—back to you.”
His gaze held hers, intense and unwavering. “And then, I don’t know how, but I felt the ice above me begin to crack, and light poured in, and I knew—I knew you were there. You brought me back.”
Chu Qiao’s breath caught, her eyes filling with unshed tears. She had always known he was strong, but to hear him speak this way, raw and unguarded, made her realize that he wasn’t just strong for himself—he was strong for her, too.
Yuwen Yue’s face softened, and a rare, almost fragile smile crossed his lips. “Then let the world try,” he whispered back, his voice steady but laced with quiet defiance. “It won’t win. Not this time.”
They stayed that way, bound together by the shared memory of a love that had defied death, and a promise stronger than any oath.
The weight of his words hung between them, and for once, Chu Qiao was silent, meeting his gaze with a mixture of understanding and admiration. Yuwen Yue’s stoic expression remained, yet his eyes revealed a depth of feeling that he’d long kept hidden—a devotion as fierce and unwavering as the mountains she had likened him to.
And in that moment, perhaps, that was all they needed.
The Runaway Prince
In the shadowy heart of Ximeng Continent, where the mountains whispered secrets and the winds carried tales of betrayal, Prince Ra Zhun moved like a wisp of smoke—unseen and untouched. Unlike his brother, Ra Zheng, whose aggressive maneuvers were marked by the iron grip of his secret spies, Ra Zhun thrived in obscurity. He was the Runaway Prince, a title both feared and revered. His elusive nature served as both armor and weapon in a land fraught with danger.
The Gurus, a ruthless faction that thrived on conquest and destruction, had set their sights on Ra Zhun’s territories. Yet each time they launched their brutal assaults, the prince was ready.
He had made a vow: “Nothing would be left for them to devour.”
From hidden vantage points in the rugged landscape, he would let out a guttural laugh, echoing through the valleys as he beheld the futility of their efforts. Fires raged in the distance, but they were not flames of victory; they were the embers of destruction he had wrought, consuming the lands the Gurus believed would yield them glory.
With only a handful of Qinghai’s best raiders and ambush fighters at his side, Ra Zhun had forged a brotherhood bound not by blood but by purpose. They were a cold-hearted crew, trained to navigate the darkest alleys of warfare. Each man was a weapon honed to perfection. Under the prince’s harsh decree, they were forbidden to form families, except to protect their own kin. This mandate forged an unbreakable loyalty among them, creating warriors who had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Their parents, sisters, and brothers became their only motivations, driving them to fight not for territory or glory, but for the survival of their loved ones.
As the Gurus rampaged through abandoned villages and desolate fields, they found only shadows where they had expected conquest. The Runaway Prince and his band of crusaders had become masters of deception, their skills in ambush and evasion unrivaled. They blended seamlessly into the rugged terrain, masquerading as simple travelers and wandering merchants while plotting their next strike against their oppressors.
Each failed attempt by the Gurus to capture even a single soul from Ra Zhun’s elusive forces only intensified their rage. For every villager they thought they had trapped, there were ten others cloaked in anonymity, slipping through their fingers like sand. Ra Zhun relished this game of cat and mouse, his laughter a haunting melody that taunted the invaders who sought to bring him to heel.
Traveling from one hideout to another, Ra Zhun abandoned the concept of home, embracing the freedom of the open road. He became a phantom of the Ximeng Continent, leaving whispered tales of his presence in his wake. Each step was calculated, a deliberate dance of misdirection ensuring the Gurus would always remain one step behind.
In Ra Zhun’s mind, his elusive nature would one day become the very catalyst for the Gurus’ downfall. Their arrogance and thirst for conquest blinded them to the truth: the more they sought to claim what was his, the more he would become the nightmare they could never catch. Always slipping away, always laughing, he would turn their dreams of victory to ash.
And so, the Runaway Prince continued his journey—a solitary figure against the vast expanse of the Ximeng Continent, where legends were born and tales of betrayal echoed through the ages. With each passing day, he prepared not just for survival but for the reckoning that would one day come, a day when the haunting laughter of the elusive prince would be the last sound the Gurus heard before their inevitable defeat.
A Chance Encounter
The gloomy sun hid and revealed itself intermittently in the high skies. The horizon was an eerie blend of gray and orange as the sun dipped behind the western cliffs, casting long shadows over the dry earth. In the vast, desolate borderlands between Yanbei and Qinghai, tension and suspicion always ran high. The harsh terrain was patrolled by skilled warriors and secretive scouts who had honed their survival skills, knowing that even a moment’s lapse in attention could prove fatal.
Ra Zhun’s forces, known for their stealth and precision in tracking and reconnaissance, moved with heightened caution. Rumors had spread of Yan Xun traveling in secret, accompanied only by the loyal A’Jing and the cunning Douji. It was said they were last seen near the rocky foothills bordering Qinghai, a region rarely crossed without consequence.
For days, Ra Zhun’s scouts had observed faint signs of movement—disturbed stones, subtle shifts in desert plants, and barely discernible footprints leading north. Strange fires had also been reported on the eastern horizon, visible only in the darkest hours before dawn. Exchanging uneasy glances, Ra Zhun’s raiders set out on a rigid search.
As they approached the edge of a plateau, Ra Zhun raised his hand, commanding silence. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, fixed on a shadowy band of figures moving in a staggered line below. Though they were distant, one figure stood out—a form vaguely familiar, stirring something in his memory.
A Young Prince in Persia
In Qinghai, titles and ranks held little sway. Here, respect was commanded not by name or bloodline but by the blade a warrior carried. Only the sword’s edge, wielded with strength and purpose, earned recognition in this fierce land.
In his early years, Qinghai and the Persian Empire enjoyed a strong alliance rooted in trade, cultural exchange, and a shared love of art and craftsmanship. As part of this bond, young Prince Ra Zhun was sent to Persia to study and train under the empire’s scholars and warriors—a tradition for noble children in Qinghai seeking to understand the world beyond their mountains.
Arriving in Persia at the age of twelve, Ra Zhun was small for his age but already exuded the composed demeanor that would one day earn him the title of the “Velvet Prince.” Though a foreigner in an unfamiliar land, his respectful manners and eagerness to learn quickly earned him admiration among Persian scholars and nobility. To Ra Zhun, this was a time of wonder: he marveled at the golden deserts, the azure-tiled palaces, and the majestic gardens, where flowers and fountains bloomed defiantly in the arid landscape.
Ra Zhun’s time in Persia included rigorous training under Master Khorram, one of the empire’s most revered swordmasters. Known not only for his formidable combat skills but also for his wisdom, Master Khorram taught Ra Zhun the art of the shamshir—a curved Persian sword requiring a unique blend of speed, precision, and elegance.
“The blade,” Master Khorram often said, “must reflect the wielder’s soul—sharp when called upon, but always still and balanced until that moment.” Ra Zhun took these teachings to heart, mastering the techniques with a discipline that impressed even his mentor.
It was in Persia, among the sweeping dunes and grand halls, that the young prince began to forge his character and destiny, shaping him into the man who would one day become the shadowy figure of legend—the Runaway Prince.
Rite of Passage
When Ra Zhun turned sixteen, Master Khorram summoned him to the central courtyard of the palace. In his hands was a finely crafted shamshir, its slender blade sharp and etched with intricate designs of Persian calligraphy. The handle was inlaid with silver and lapis lazuli, a tribute to Qinghai’s mountains and rivers. This was no ordinary sword; it had been created specifically for Ra Zhun by Persia’s most skilled artisans as a symbol of the alliance between Persia and Qinghai and to honor the young prince.
Kneeling before him, Master Khorram presented the shamshir and spoke solemnly: “With this blade, you are bound to the honor of both Persia and Qinghai. It will serve you only as faithfully as you serve your people and your values. Let it be a reminder that the greatest battles are won not by strength alone, but by understanding, patience, and wisdom.”
Trial of the Velvet Prince
Shortly after receiving the shamshir, Ra Zhun faced a trial that would test both his training and character. News arrived of bandits raiding villages near the Persian border, threatening the peace of the region. Under Master Khorram’s watchful eye, Ra Zhun was given permission to join a small contingent of Persian soldiers to defend the villages.
Equipped with his new shamshir, Ra Zhun rode into his first battle. When they confronted the bandits, Ra Zhun fought as he had been taught: swift, precise, and with a calm mind. His patience and restraint, even in the heat of combat, astonished the soldiers. They began to call him the “Velvet Prince,” a title born of admiration for the rare blend of gentleness and unyielding skill he displayed. When the bandits were dispersed and the villages secured, the grateful villagers hailed Ra Zhun as a hero. For the first time, he felt the full weight of his duty and the responsibility of wielding both the sword and his authority.
The Return to Qinghai and the Legacy of the Shamshir
After years in Persia, Ra Zhun returned to Qinghai, now a young man shaped by the wisdom of two lands. At his side was the shamshir, no longer just a weapon but a symbol of the lessons he had learned—of discipline, humility, and the strength found in gentleness.
Back in Qinghai, Ra Zhun earned renown for his calm and diplomatic approach to leadership. Balancing compassion with an unshakable sense of honor, he became a ruler who wielded power thoughtfully, drawing his sword only to defend his people and their heritage. The shamshir became an emblem of his connection to Persia and the values instilled in him during his formative years.
The people of Qinghai came to revere him not just as a warrior, but as a protector who led with wisdom and empathy. The shamshir’s etched blade, gleaming in the light of the Qinghai sun, served as a reminder of his youth and the guidance of Master Khorram, whose teachings had shaped him into the man he had become.
A Legend of Unity
In time, the story of the Velvet Prince and his shamshir grew into legend. It symbolized the enduring bond between Qinghai and Persia and the unique character of Ra Zhun himself—a leader defined by his compassion and resilience.
The shamshir became more than a sword; it became a legacy, a living connection to the ideals of courage, wisdom, and honor that guided Ra Zhun throughout his life. As the Prince of Qinghai, he embodied the values of two great nations, inspiring his people and securing his place in the annals of history as the Velvet Prince.
The Exposed Moon Kingdom
With the Moon Kingdom’s secrets finally unshackled, Ra Zhun’s raiders moved freely, slipping in and out of its borders without alerting the Qinghai forces. Despite the vigilant monitoring by Yue Qi and Zuo Zong, Ra Zhun remained elusive—a master of deception, much like Ra Yue and Ra Zheng. But Ra Zhun was no ordinary prince. Cunning and unpredictable, he wielded influence across the entire Ximeng Continent, blending in with common folk, avoiding close bonds, and maintaining no permanent aides or identifiable allies. This made him nearly impossible to trace.
Ra Zhun was more than a prince revealed to the world beyond Ximeng’s borders. Well-versed in foreign customs and skilled in martial arts that extended far beyond China’s traditions, his mysterious nature was as much his defense as it was his weapon—a ghostly presence that lingered in shadows, untouchable yet impossible to ignore.
Meeting the Rebel Lord
Yan Xun advanced, flanked by A’Jing’s lithe, nimble frame on one side and Douji’s wiry figure on the other. Each movement exuded wary confidence, as if they walked a line between diplomacy and battle.
At the ridge, Ra Zhun and his raiders took their places, closing in from all sides to block any chance of escape. Their formation was deliberate; every warrior stood poised to strike at the slightest provocation.
Yan Xun’s group halted, their senses honed to the palpable tension in the air. Yan Xun scanned the landscape with a grim but steady expression, assessing the scene and sizing up the so-called “Happy Valley” raiders. A’Jing, sharp-eyed as ever, gave a subtle nod toward the Qinghai scouts hidden in the shadows, while Douji shifted his weight, ready to react in an instant.
The silence broke as Ra Zhun, calm and unruffled, unsheathed his shamshir. His demeanor gave no indication that he was the leader of the group. One of the raiders stepped forward, his voice sharp as steel. “You’ve wandered into lands that don’t take kindly to strangers. We won’t allow you to go any further.”
Yan Xun’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at A’Jing and Douji, signaling them to relax and appear as mere travelers caught in the wrong place. But his expression, a mix of defiance and quiet resolve, betrayed otherwise.
“First of all,” Yan Xun replied coolly, “we’re not here to ‘cross lands.’ Second, you’re absolutely right—no one ‘allowed’ us to stroll through these delightful meadows. And third…” He paused, his gaze locking on Ra Zhun with a wry grin. “We’re lost. Care to help us find our way home?”
Ra Zhun chuckled, his skeptical eyes fixed on Yan Xun. “Lost, are we?”
He turned to his raiders with a smirk. “Shall we really believe that this man, who bears a striking resemblance to the ‘disgraced Prince of Yan,’ is lost in the heart of Qinghai?”
The raiders erupted in laughter, their mirth echoing across the ridge. Yan Xun joined in, but with a sudden flick, an arrow hovered inches from Ra Zhun’s throat, poised over the pulsing vein at his neck.
“What was that about a ‘disgraced Prince’?” Yan Xun asked, his voice dripping with mock politeness.
Ra Zhun, momentarily stunned by Yan Xun’s speed, managed to keep his composure. “Yes, Your Grace,” he sneered, his voice laced with sarcasm. “The disgraced Prince of Yanbei.”
The raiders shifted uneasily, more taken aback by Ra Zhun’s acknowledgment than by the arrow at their leader’s throat.
Yan Xun let out a dry laugh. “And what do you think a disgraced prince is capable of?” His tone mocked, daring them to underestimate him.
Ra Zhun swallowed but remained defiant. “You… you’re a Rebel Lord.”
Yan Xun grinned, clearly amused. “Flattered you noticed. Now, tell your men to drop their weapons—unless you want to see how accurate I am at this range.” His gaze shifted back and forth between Ra Zhun’s neck and the arrow in his hand.
A tense silence followed. After a long pause, Ra Zhun nodded grudgingly. “Drop your weapons,” he commanded, his tone reluctant but resolute.
A’Jing and Douji swiftly bound the raiders’ hands and feet, gagging their mouths with torn cloth. Ra Zhun was forced to his knees, blood trickling from his lips after a swift kick from Yan Xun.
“Good boy,” Yan Xun sneered, patting Ra Zhun’s head mockingly as though he were a dog. He twirled his white-feathered arrow between his fingers, clearly enjoying the power shift.
A Hidden Threat
Nearby, Ra Zheng’s spies observed the scene with keen interest. Hidden in the shadows, they took note of the confrontation, their gazes shifting as another faction silently approached. Pretending to remain unseen, they watched every move.
In hushed tones, Zuo Zong glanced at Yue Qi for guidance. Yue Qi’s eyes were fixed on Yan Xun, his expression unreadable. “This path doesn’t belong to those who run from their past. Capture them,” he ordered, his fingers twitching with a barely restrained urge for violence.
Zuo Zong’s men exchanged uncertain glances before signaling Ra Yue’s band of brothers to charge. With precision and stealth, the group descended toward Yan Xun, A’Jing, and Douji.
The Treacherous Lands of Qinghai
The borderlands of Qinghai were no ordinary territory. Tales of skinned travelers and cannibalistic tribes kept most outsiders far from these treacherous paths. Here, the terrain itself was a weapon, and the people—hardened and weather-worn—resembled mercenaries more than soldiers.
Douji caught Yan Xun’s eye, and a wordless understanding passed between them. Qinghai still had more surprises in store.
Years on the battlefield had given Yan Xun an instinct for danger, and he felt the familiar pulse of an impending fight surge through him. He took a deep breath, his voice tinged with reluctant amusement. “Looks like our stay in Qinghai just got extended.”
With a grin, Yan Xun nodded slightly. A’Jing and Douji raised their hands in feigned surrender, allowing Yue Qi, Zuo Zong, and Ra Yue’s band of brothers to “capture” them.
But as the captors marched their prisoners toward their hidden camp, both sides knew the night was far from over. Qinghai’s treacheries ran deep, and no one—neither raider nor rebel lord—would emerge unscathed.
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