In the Moonlight

Years later, the tale of how various tribes answered the summons of the Khan of Khans, mobilizing their entire clans to march toward the Holy City and aid the revered Buddha Prince in breaking the siege, continued to be passed down through generations. It remained one of the most cherished legends among the people of every tribe.

The Buddha Prince was their sovereign in spirit. At his command, every tribe stood ready to charge into battle for him.

On that day, black smoke billowed and flames roared as the tribal allied forces and garrison troops descended like divine warriors. Iron arrows blotted out the sky, while heavy cavalry, light cavalry, archers, and axemen formed disciplined ranks, closing in from all directions to trap the Northern Rong Allied Army in the wilderness beyond the Holy City.

Heavy cavalry shattered the tribal formations, shield-bearing infantry advanced step by step, soldiers behind them brandished long spears, and archers positioned at the rear and flanks drew their bows.

After a full day of relentless slaughter, the Northern Rong Allied Army was utterly broken, their spirits shattered and ranks in disarray. As tattered tribal banners fell one after another, they turned in despair and fled like panicked wolves and swine.

Mobi Duo, the young prince of Wujili Bu with a bronze mask covering his face, alongside his father, led tribal warriors to trample the Northern Rong encampment. Where their iron cavalry passed, rivers of blood flowed and corpses littered the ground.

The allied forces attempted to break through, but the tribal cavalry tightened their encirclement like a slowly drawn noose. Forced to retreat, several contingents collided violently from different directions, only to find themselves surrounded on all sides by comrades similarly trapped—there was no escape.

Tens of thousands were compressed into tightening circles, pressed shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow. Warhorses trampled soldiers as all fought not to kill enemies but to surge forward and upward, desperate to avoid being crushed into pulp underfoot. Those who fell never rose again; soldiers clambered onto horseback or human piles, shoving aside anyone in their path.

Iron arrows whistled through the air, each descent blooming with sprays of blood.

The snow-white earth was stained crimson with viscous blood.

The setting sun bled red, and the northern wind cut sharp and cold.

Haidu Aling turned his horse, his felt robe soaked in blood. After a day of fierce combat, he was exhausted and wounded everywhere. Wiping the gore from his face revealed raw, torn flesh. His pale golden eagle eyes scanned the tide of reinforcements surging around him, ears filled with the agonized cries of soldiers in their final throes. He let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh.

Defeat, despondency, and despair washed over him.

A hero at his end, a cornered beast in its death struggle.

He had believed that by exploiting the internal strife in the Royal Court, he had trapped Tanmoroqie. Instead, he was the one ensnared.

Wahan Khan had always been overcautious and hesitant in facing Tanmoroqie, so much so that he saw threats in every shadow. The mere sight of Tanmoroqie’s banner on the battlefield would set his heart racing.

In the past, Northern Rong nobles mocked Wahan Khan for being terrified by a monk, and Haidu Aling shared their scorn, thinking the Khan’s age had made him indecisive and overly wary.

Now he understood Wahan Khan’s prudence.

His blood-soaked officers rushed to him: "Prince, we’ll cover your breakout!"

Tears welling in his eyes, Haidu Aling gazed at his loyal subordinates and sighed. "At this point, if I lead a breakout, the Buddha Prince will concentrate all his forces to stop me."The officers exchanged glances. One of them urged his horse forward and cupped his hands in salute. "Your Highness, please remove your armor and let me wear it. I will lead several thousand men to break through from the northwest corner, while A Jin and the others break out from the southeast and northeast corners to draw the enemy’s pursuit. Once the Royal Court’s main forces arrive to block us, you can take advantage of the chaos to lead the remaining troops and break through!"

The others chimed in agreement.

Haidu Aling’s heart skipped a beat. This was exactly the escape plan he had in mind, but he hadn’t expected his subordinates to volunteer before he could even speak.

He let out a long sigh and raised his long blade. "You have followed me for many years, standing by me even when I was abandoned and betrayed. It is my failure in battle that has brought you to this desperate situation where survival seems impossible. How could I sacrifice you just to save myself? It would be better for me to act as bait and draw the Royal Court’s elite forces away, while you lead the men to escape!"

Seeing his noble and resolute determination to face death courageously, the generals wept bitterly. "Your Highness, victory and defeat are common in war. As long as the green hills remain, there will be no shortage of firewood. You are a peerless hero, the hope for Northern Rong’s restoration—you must not die! You will surely escape, revive Northern Rong, and avenge us in the future!"

Ignoring Haidu Aling’s protests, they rushed forward, hastily stripped off his armor, dressed one of their own in his attire, and pushed him into the crowd.

Haidu Aling blended in with the soldiers and looked back. Watching his officers raise their arms and lead the troops to break through in different directions, his heart twisted in agony.

These officers were trusted aides he had painstakingly cultivated over the years. Today, they would all die outside the Holy City.

His face contorted, veins bulging fiercely, as if blood might burst from his gritted teeth. He turned and, without hesitation, galloped away in the opposite direction with his remaining close followers.

Behind him, the Royal Court’s garrison troops, led by Tanmoroqie, continued to tighten the encirclement.

Bi Suo scanned the surroundings and spotted a figure in the commander’s armor breaking through amidst the Northern Rong Iron Cavalry. He tightened his grip on the reins, ready to give chase, but his eyes caught sight of figures at two other corners. Frowning slightly, he glanced back.

Tanmoroqie nodded at him.

Without further hesitation, Bi Suo spurred his horse and pursued.

…

Several Northern Rong generals split up to divert the Royal Court’s elite forces. Mobi Duo and Bi Suo both led their troops in pursuit.

Haidu Aling was ecstatic. He whipped his horse, urging it forward like an arrow released from a bow, piercing straight through the Royal Court soldiers’ net and breaking free, leaving the blood-soaked battlefield behind.

His close followers clung tightly to his rear.

Gripping the reins, he felt the wounds on his face sting like knife cuts.

Fortune and misfortune are intertwined; man proposes, but heaven disposes. Today, he had lost to Tanmoroqie, but once he regrouped, he would surely make a comeback!

Victory should not make one arrogant, nor defeat disheartened. Northern Rong men grew up following their fathers and brothers in raids and conquests—a single defeat meant nothing! Wahan Khan had fought north and south throughout his life, experiencing countless battles large and small, leading an insignificant grassland tribe to build the mighty Northern Rong. Time and again, Haidu Aling had escaped danger, rising from a parentless orphan to a commander of a hundred thousand troops. As long as he lived, he had the potential to rise again!

He was a son of the wolf, with the blood of the divine wolf flowing in his veins. He would never admit defeat.

Haidu Aling’s mind buzzed with noise when one of his guards suddenly raised his voice, pointing to a gorge ahead. "Your Highness, if we cross this gorge, we can shake off the pursuers!"Haidu Aling snapped back to reality, lifted his head, and gazed at the distant canyon.

The setting sun cast its pale golden afterglow over the silver-clad peaks flanking the canyon, with the snow reflecting dazzling rays of light.

Recalling the secret weapon in Li Yaoying’s possession, a sense of foreboding surged within him. His heart pounded as he reined in his horse, pausing briefly before decisively declaring, “There may be an ambush in the canyon. Let’s take another route.”

His attendants acknowledged the order, turning their horses around as the group galloped westward.

The wind howled, and the snow-capped peaks stood stark against the deepening twilight. The drumming of hooves echoed like a sudden downpour across the vast expanse.

Haidu Aling rode with his head down, desperate to shake off his pursuers and escape the Royal Court.

Now that various armies and tribes had gathered at the Holy City, other regions were surely left vulnerable. As long as he could break free from the Holy City’s territory, he would be safe. He could then bypass Sand City, feign an attack on Gaochang, and Li Yaoying would surely panic and withdraw her troops. Seizing the opportunity, he could rally his former followers, reassemble his forces, and return to his suzerain state to recuperate and rebuild…

As Haidu Aling swiftly plotted, a sharp, piercing whistle suddenly cut through the air ahead.

In the blood-red twilight, a Whistling Arrow shot out from behind a massive boulder beside the road, soaring straight into the sky.

Almost instantly, the crisp sound of hooves followed. From behind a hill bathed in the rich rouge hues of the fading sun, a troop of riders emerged. From afar, they resembled a thunderous storm cloud sweeping forward, their banners bearing the insignia of the Western Army and their snow-white battle robes fluttering fiercely against the snowy backdrop, their momentum as formidable as a legion.

The ground beneath them trembled faintly.

In the blink of an eye, the riders had closed to within a few dozen paces of Haidu Aling. The banners drew nearer, and at their forefront rode a general clad in white robes and silver armor, a headband tied around his forehead and a long sword at his waist. His expression was stern and unyielding.

“Haidu Aling, I, Xie Qing, General of the Left Flank Cavalry of the Western Army, have been waiting for you for a long time.”

Xie Qing drew his sword, his dark eyes fixed intently on Haidu Aling, their gaze as sharp as a blade.

Years ago, when they had fled the Yelu Tribe and were on the verge of returning to their homeland, Haidu Aling had led his troops in pursuit, capturing Seventh Lady. She and the other guards had been powerless to resist, forced to watch helplessly as Haidu Aling took Seventh Lady away.

She was Seventh Lady’s personal guard, yet she had failed to protect her.

During those days, Seventh Lady was confined to Haidu Aling’s grand tent. Day and night, Haidu Aling humiliated her, tormented her, and tried to break her spirit. She had witnessed Seventh Lady being driven like a slave by the Northern Rong, seen her dodging frenzied horses in the pastures… She dared not imagine what Seventh Lady had endured night after night when Haidu Aling entered the tent…

From the day Seventh Lady was taken, she had reminded herself daily: she must train relentlessly, grow stronger, and protect Seventh Lady!

The wind suddenly grew mournful and shrill.

Xie Qing gripped his long sword, his gaze fixed on Haidu Aling, two icy glints flashing in his eyes.

He had been lying in ambush here for a long time.

This time, he would stop Haidu Aling—he would not let him escape!

A chill shot up from the soles of his feet. Haidu Aling shuddered, his heart quaking violently.

Li Yaoying had indeed set an ambush.

The woman he sought to conquer had not only never submitted to him but had also opposed him at every turn, meticulously plotting to eradicate him root and branch.He had always believed that once he established a powerful empire and conquered the Royal Court and Western Regions, Li Yaoying would eventually submit to him like those Northern Rong women, bowing to his authority.

He was brave, mighty, and towering—the foremost warrior of Northern Rong. Yet Li Yaoying scorned him, risking life and limb for a monk who chanted scriptures all day.

Haidu Aling swallowed the sweet, metallic taste rising in his throat, gripped his saber, and burst into wild laughter: "With just this handful of men, you think you can stop me?!"

His voice was hoarse as he drew his long blade, muscles tensing throughout his body. He resembled an unsheathed sword, overflowing with killing intent.

Xie Qing’s eyes also flashed with surging murderous aura. Raising her long saber, she spurred her horse and charged toward him.

Their blades clashed, sparks flying.

Amid the flashing steel, the two became locked in combat, exchanging dozens of moves until sweat beaded on their foreheads.

Haidu Aling’s killing intent was piercing, his Internal Force profound, his battlefield-honed moves decisive and ruthless.

Xie Qing, though physically weaker and clearly at a disadvantage, showed no trace of fear or cowardice. She lunged forward again and again, refusing to retreat even when wounded.

With slashes, hacks, and chops, Xie Qing mustered all her strength, her long blade grazing Haidu Aling’s neck at an angle.

Haidu Aling dodged the strike, his heart pounding.

Their respective subordinates roared as they fought.

Xie Qing’s group, lying in ambush, were fresh and energetic. Haidu Aling’s forces, exhausted from a major battle with weary horses, could no longer launch a sudden assault. They quickly formed a circular formation to resist the encirclement by the Western Army.

As the sunset withdrew its final rays and night gently descended, the two sides clashed fiercely, horses’ hooves trampling the snow.

Haidu Aling swung his long blade stroke by stroke, his figure still imposing and powerful. But his close attendants fell one after another. With a thud, his helmet was knocked into the snow, his braided hair loosened, his face bloodied and mangled. Yet his hawk-like eyes blazed with light as his blade techniques grew even more ferocious.

Xie Qing, breathing heavily, steadied her focus, blocking and slashing. Suddenly, she leaped into the air, her entire form like a streak of swift light, her long blade descending upon Haidu Aling from above.

The sound of the blade cutting through the air roared like a dragon or tiger.

This strike was the culmination of Xie Qing’s Internal Force and courage. Haidu Aling raised his blade to meet it. A crisp sound rang out—his long blade was notched. Xie Qing did not pull back; instead, her saber pressed forward, aimed at Haidu Aling’s neck, sending sparks flying.

Haidu Aling, already exhausted, knew he lacked the strength to block a second blow. Yet he reacted swiftly, twisting his wrist to draw a dagger from his waist with lightning speed, thrusting it diagonally.

The dagger struck Xie Qing’s face, instantly covering it in blood. Her eyes widened, but she did not retreat. Embracing mutual destruction, she tightened her grip on the hilt and brought the blade down.

Their attendants cried out in alarm, a chorus of shocked exclamations.

In that split second, Haidu Aling roared, leaning backward. The blade tore through his armor and inner robe, leaving a long gash. Gritting his teeth, he tumbled from his horse.

Seeing him fall, Western Region soldiers immediately closed in on horseback, a dozen spears thrusting downward. Enduring excruciating pain, Haidu Aling sprang up like a carp, supporting himself with his long saber. Gasping for breath, he stared at the dark mass of advancing Western Region troops.

Xie Qing withdrew, holding her saber and standing aside as if waiting for something.

A few stifled sobs reached his ears.Haidu Aling turned his head, scanning the surroundings.

They were surrounded by the Western Army, which had been lying in ambush for a long time. His personal guards were disheveled, covered in blood, their armor tattered and robes stained crimson. Their faces were smeared with blood, obscuring their original features, and their weary eyes were filled with despair and sorrow. Their horses had long collapsed from exhaustion, arrows were spent, and their long swords were chipped. The Western Army closed in step by step.

Today was their day of death.

Someone was wiping away tears.

Fury ignited in Haidu Aling’s heart, his eyes nearly splitting with rage. How could his personal guards weep so weakly before the enemy?

A few of the guards trembled like sieves, pointing in terror at the advancing Western Army.

Haidu Aling, his face caked in blood, followed their gestures.

A group of torch-bearing riders approached through the night, a dark, imposing mass with a solemn and murderous aura. Their banners flapped noisily in the wind.

As they drew near, soldiers on both sides parted to clear a path.

The fighting abruptly ceased, and the surroundings fell as silent as still water.

A crisp sound of hoofbeats echoed as a single rider, escorted by personal guards, slowly advanced.

Xie Qing stepped forward to take her horse’s reins.

The torchlight illuminated her slender figure and radiant face. Cloaked and wearing a felt hat, she reined in her horse at a distance, looking down at Haidu Aling. Her bright eyes were colder than the perpetually frozen snow peaks.

Behind her stood a row of personal guards with drawn swords, their expressions respectful—a contingent of Western Region soldiers with deep, distinct features.

Haidu Aling gazed up at Li Yaoying, luminous as moonlight in the night, and remained silent for a long time.

He recognized them—the personal guards behind Li Yaoying were Northern Rong soldiers. They had once followed Wahan Khan into battle, were captured by the Western Army, and now pledged loyalty to Li Yaoying.

This woman truly hated him, coming personally to hunt him down.

A hero all his life, he was to die at the hands of a woman.

Haidu Aling’s lips curved into a bleak smile.

In the silence, a thunderous rumble of hooves erupted from the east. Three to four hundred mounted figures surged out of the darkness. Their leader, clad in golden armor and a helmet, was tall and imposing. His narrow phoenix eyes glared coldly at Haidu Aling, exuding an overwhelming aura of murderous intent, a gleaming long sword in his hand.

Li Zhongqian had arrived as well.

Trapped beasts, cornered in a cage.

Haidu Aling closed his eyes briefly, then looked up again at Li Yaoying.

Yaoying held the reins calmly, her expression serene. Though her face showed no emotion, her grace remained undiminished.

At their first meeting in the palace banquet, she had been resplendent in magnificent attire, radiant as the bright moon—the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Haidu Aling’s gaze turned icy.

“Prince, let us surrender! Jin Bo Prince surrendered, and the Buddha Prince spared him, even enfeoffing him as a king. Prince, if we surrender to the Buddha Prince, we can still enjoy wealth and honor!”

“Prince, as long as we live, there is still hope to restore our kingdom!”

A personal guard crawled to Haidu Aling’s feet, clutching his legs, and wailed, “Prince, surrender!”

Princess Wenzhao had come, Xie Qing had come, and even the legendary Li Zhongqian, renowned for his valor across three armies, had arrived. With only these few men left, how could they break through?

The night wind brushed past, cold as snow.

Dried blood caked on his face stung like silver needles pricking his skin in the wind, a sharp, throbbing pain.

Haidu Aling raised his eyes, meeting the gazes of his personal guards one by one, and curled his lips into a faint smile.

He could kneel and surrender to any powerful enemy—he cared not for reputation… but he could never surrender to Li Yaoying.Even if he surrendered, Li Zhongqian would not spare him. This man was ruthless and never showed mercy on the battlefield.

Better to die swiftly than suffer humiliation.

Haidu Aling let out a few bitter laughs, spat a mouthful of bloody foam, and raised his short blade. "You may surrender..."

His tone was calm.

His followers had stayed with him to seek a future. Since he could no longer provide one, there was no need for them to die alongside him.

"You have followed me this far and done more than enough. Those who wish to live, surrender now! I will not blame you."

As for himself, he had to fight to the very end.

He had no other choice.

In a world where the strong preyed on the weak, his blood surged with the ambition to conquer all. Victory would make him the strongest; defeat meant death.

Haidu Aling charged into the dense ranks of the Western Army soldiers, hacking, fighting, and slashing.

In the distance, Li Zhongqian’s face was dark as he took a wineskin from his guard, uncorked it, and poured strong liquor over his silver sword. The blade gleamed like clear water.

This man had once imprisoned Bright Moon Slave.

His phoenix eyes wide with fury, Li Zhongqian swept into the fray, swift as a hawk, his flashing sword enveloping Haidu Aling.

Haidu Aling gritted his teeth, swinging his short blade with all his might, but his movements grew increasingly sluggish.

...

On the hillside, Yaoying tightened her cloak, witnessing Haidu Aling’s heroic end with her own eyes.

When Haidu Aling’s tall figure fell beneath Li Zhongqian’s sword, her brow twitched slightly, and she raised a hand to smooth the strands of hair stirred by the night wind.

Her thoughts drifted to the past—when she and her guards thought they had finally escaped his clutches, Haidu Aling had suddenly appeared, toying with them like a cat with a mouse, shattering their hopes and plunging them into utter despair.

Now, on this day, Haidu Aling met his end here.

From this moment on, the Northern Rong would never have the chance to restore their kingdom.

The states of the Western Regions would enter an era of peace and stability. The HeLong region would be restored, trade routes would flow unimpeded, the people could live and work in security, merchants could travel freely, and inns would line every trade road.

All that was in ruins would be rebuilt, and prosperity would flourish.

For a moment, the battlefield fell silent, then was pierced by heart-wrenching wails. Haidu Aling’s subordinates knelt beside his body. A few of his guards drew their blades and took their own lives, following him in death, while the others wept uncontrollably and surrendered their weapons.

A guard asked Yaoying, "Princess, how should we handle Haidu Aling’s remains?"

Yaoying replied indifferently, "He was an enemy commander who died in battle. Bury him according to custom."

The guard acknowledged the order.

The crunch of long boots on snow grew louder as footsteps approached from afar.

Li Zhongqian, holding his long sword, walked toward Yaoying. Fresh blood dripped from the thin blade.

Yaoying dismounted. "Elder Brother."

Li Zhongqian stopped before her, looking down with bloodshot phoenix eyes that gleamed sharply.

"Whoever dares bully my Bright Moon Slave, I will cut them down."

Whether he was nine, eleven, twenty-three, thirty, or forty... if anyone bullied Bright Moon Slave, they would have to face him first.

Yaoying smiled but before she could speak, Li Zhongqian’s expression abruptly darkened. He tossed his sword aside and snorted coldly.

"Haidu Aling is dead. Return to Gaochang with me at once!"

These past days, he had led the Western Army to attack the passes, drawing Haidu Aling’s attention and lulling him into complacency. Everything had gone according to plan, and though there had been minor setbacks, he had resolved them all. Yet, he had been kept in the dark about the situation in the Holy City, driving him nearly mad with worry!If Yaoying hadn't discussed every step with him before leaving, and if his subordinates hadn't persistently urged him to prioritize the greater good, he would have long led troops to charge into the Holy City!

Yaoying immediately suppressed her smile and held onto Li Zhongqian’s arm. “Brother, thanks to you holding off Haidu Aling’s scouts during this time, the tribal forces were able to flank the allied army from the west, and Yang Qian managed to raid Haidu Aling’s stronghold without anyone noticing…”

Li Zhongqian curled his lips and interrupted her, “Don’t try to flatter me with sweet words. Pack your things and get ready to go back.”

Yaoying sighed. “I can’t leave right now. Let’s return to the Holy City first.”

Li Zhongqian frowned deeply.

At that moment, Yuanjue stepped out from the ranks and cupped his hands toward Li Zhongqian. “Duke Weiguo, the King specifically instructed me that if I saw you, I must inform you that he earnestly requests your presence in the Holy City.”

Li Zhongqian raised an eyebrow. “Why should I go to the Holy City?”

Yuanjue replied, “The King said that you once asked him several questions and demanded a promise from him. At the time, he was unable to answer your questions.”

Li Zhongqian’s expression remained impassive.

Yaoying looked up at him, narrowing her eyes. “Brother, what questions did you ask the Dharma Master?”

Li Zhongqian curled his lips without answering and strode away.

Yaoying watched his retreating figure, shook her head with a smile, and turned to speak with Xie Qing.

Yuanjue’s eyes shifted thoughtfully, and he hurried after Li Zhongqian, whispering, “Duke Weiguo, the King said he can now answer your questions. He also wishes to make a request of you—to spare a moment to meet him when you pass through the Holy City. If you are too busy, the King can come to Gaochang to see you.”

Li Zhongqian halted abruptly, a cold gleam flashing in his eyes as his gaze sharpened intensely.

…

The personal guards and Northern Rong captives remained to clear the battlefield, while Li Zhongqian rode back to the Holy City with Yaoying.

Outside the Holy City, the great battle had already ended.

To cover Haidu Aling’s breakout, several of his subordinates fought desperately with the Iron Cavalry. However, they did not hold out for long. The other tribal forces had already collapsed, and seeing one tribe lay down their weapons, they too discarded theirs and surrendered, prostrating themselves on the ground. Mobi Duo led the tribal soldiers to shatter the Northern Rong Iron Cavalry’s formation, tearing through the allied forces’ last sturdy line of defense like a storm.

One after another, long, melodious horns resounded across the sky—this time, not the terrifying war drums of the enemy, but the triumphant horns signaling the Royal Court’s victory.

The civilians who had taken refuge in Wang Temple wept with joy and excitement, emerging to climb the cliffs and broken city walls, cheering for the victory.