Mo Li

Seeing the Qilin arrive and knowing he was severely injured, Helian Peng realized he wouldn’t gain any advantage today. With a shout of "Retreat!" he swiftly fled the ravine, abandoning the men he had brought without a second thought. With the Qilin’s reinforcements, the remaining enemies were swiftly dealt with.

Qin Feng gazed in the direction Helian Peng had fled, sighing regretfully, "What a pity Helian Peng got away."

Lin Han, standing behind him, glanced at the dead or wounded Northern Rong soldiers and remarked, "Helian Peng is ruthless—so many lives thrown away without hesitation." Whether it was the dozens from a few days ago or the hundred today, Helian Peng had discarded them without a shred of remorse. These weren’t ordinary Northern Rong soldiers—each had undergone specialized training, and even for Helian Peng, such elite forces couldn’t be easily replaced. This starkly contrasted with how Ye Li treated her subordinates. Since its founding, the Qilin had only suffered a little over a hundred casualties in several years, while Helian Peng casually sacrificed that many in just one or two engagements. Clearly, he saw them not as prized assets or even subordinates, but as expendable pawns.

Zhuo Jing, who had been closest to the action, added grimly, "Even if we didn’t kill him, Helian Peng won’t be causing trouble for at least a month or two. Wang Fei, should we send someone after him…?"

Ye Li shook her head. "Helian Peng’s martial skills are formidable—even if he’s not on par with Wang Ye, he’s likely no weaker than Ren Qining. Besides, as a Northern Rong general, he’ll have heavy protection now that he’s injured. There’s no need to waste lives chasing him. Let’s head to Vulture Peak Mountain first."

"Yes, Wang Fei," the group responded. Leaving some behind to clean up the battlefield, the rest escorted Ye Li toward Vulture Peak Mountain.

News of Ye Li’s encounter with Helian Peng naturally reached Mo Xiuyao. Though Ye Li was unharmed, Mo Xiuyao’s expression darkened dangerously. Even the usually talkative Feng Zhiyao and Han Mingxi didn’t dare speak up, lest they provoke his wrath. With a cold snort, Mo Xiuyao grabbed his Fenmie Sword and stormed out of the camp, leaving the others stunned.

After a long silence, Han Mingxi asked blankly, "What… what is he doing?"

Feng Zhiyao blinked and joked, "Surely he’s not going to kill Helian Peng?"

Han Mingyue, seated beside Han Mingxi, nodded. "That’s exactly what he’s doing. He might even go after Yelv Ye and Helian Zhen." Though Feng Zhiyao no longer trusted Han Mingyue, he still respected his insight. If not for Su Zuidie, Han Mingyue would never have fallen so far. Hearing this, Feng Zhiyao leapt to his feet in alarm. "Is he insane? That’s an army of hundreds of thousands! If he could single-handedly slaughter the entire Northern Rong forces, why would we even need to fight a war?"

Even the strongest warrior had limits. Mo Xiuyao might be the world’s greatest martial artist, capable of taking on ten or even a hundred foes—but a thousand? Ten thousand? Charging into an enemy camp to kill Helian Peng and Yelv Ye? Feng Zhiyao had only two words for that: sheer suicide!After a moment of shock, Feng Zhiyao finally leaped up, rushing out while shouting, "Mo Xiuyao, damn it, I must have owed you in my past life. Someone! Gather the troops!"

Inside the main tent, only Han Mingxi and Han Mingyue remained. Han Mingxi looked at his elder brother, somewhat incredulous, and asked, "Brother, is Mo Xiuyao really planning to kill He Lianpeng?" Even if he wanted to kill him, there was no need to storm the Northern Rong Camp. He could just wait for He Lianpeng to be alone or leave the camp. With Mo Xiuyao's martial skills, he could kill several He Lianpengs easily.

Han Mingyue gave a bitter smile and said, "Do you think Prince Ding hasn’t considered that?"

Han Mingxi was puzzled. "Then why is he doing this?"

"After today, as long as Mo Xiuyao doesn’t die, there will truly be no one in this world who dares to lay a finger on Ye Li again," Han Mingyue sighed. Once, he had believed his love for Su Zuidie was profound, even secretly thinking Mo Xiuyao didn’t understand love. Now, he realized Mo Xiuyao wasn’t incapable of love—he just hadn’t met the right person. What Mo Xiuyao was doing for Ye Li, Han Mingyue admitted he could never do. Patting his dazed younger brother on the shoulder, Han Mingyue turned and walked out.

Inside the tent, Han Mingxi remained silent for a long time before finally letting out a bitter laugh, a trace of resignation flashing across his brow. What Mo Xiuyao could do, he would never be capable of—not due to ability, but temperament. He could never go to such lengths for someone, even if he… loved her.

This day would be one that all Northern Rong soldiers would remember for the rest of their lives—if they had any lives left, that is.

With no recent battles between the two armies, the Northern Rong Camp had been unusually peaceful. Yet, in the midst of this calm, the soldiers guarding the camp entrance watched in shock as a silver-haired man in snow-white robes drifted toward them like a wisp of cloud. Before they could react to this sudden apparition, a cold glint flashed at their throats, and the last thing they saw were the man’s blood-red, icy eyes.

Mo Xiuyao stormed into the camp, charging straight toward the commander’s tent before the Northern Rong soldiers could react. His Light Body Skill was peerless, and as he moved, the blazing sword energy of Fenmie Jian left countless dead and wounded in its wake. Even the unlucky souls who became his stepping stones were crushed underfoot, their seven orifices bleeding as they died. Instantly, chaos erupted in the camp. Countless soldiers surged toward Mo Xiuyao. Those who regained their senses quickly nocked arrows and fired, but ordinary arrows could never reach him. Moreover, while he was airborne, it was manageable—but once he landed, it was hard to say whether the arrows would hit him or their own men.

For a time, the white-robed figure darted back and forth across the battlefield, leaving rivers of blood wherever he went. Under the Fenmie Jian, no one survived—every swing drew a crimson arc. Such terrifying power sent chills down the spines of even the famously fearless Northern Rong soldiers, who feared that a single misstep would mean certain death.With such a commotion in the camp, how could Yelv Ye, seated in the main command tent, remain unaware? Already furious over He Lianpeng's return with injuries, Yelv Ye was further enraged by the clamor and clashing of weapons outside. Just then, a panicked soldier rushed in to report intruders. Yelv Ye sneered, "I’d like to see who dares to barge into the Northern Rong Camp." He stepped out with Helian Zhen and the freshly bandaged He Lianpeng, only to see Mo Xiuyao approaching in white robes, sword in hand. The ancient, somewhat somber blade now gleamed with a blood-red light, radiating overwhelming killing intent.

"Mo Xiuyao?!"

Yelv Ye was both shocked and furious, momentarily baffled as to why this harbinger of death had suddenly appeared in the Northern Rong camp. Could Mo Xiuyao truly believe that killing him alone would end this war?

Anyone with the slightest common sense knew that wars between nations were never resolved by the death of one or two commanders. Moreover, assassinating a military leader was an incredibly difficult feat. Even if Mo Xiuyao succeeded in killing Yelv Ye, how could he guarantee his own escape?

Mo Xiuyao, amidst his relentless slaughter, also spotted Yelv Ye and the other two. With a cold smile, he swung his sword and charged toward them.

Seeing the blood-tinged, azure glow of the blade, Yelv Ye’s expression darkened. "The Sword of Annihilation?!"

Beside him, Helian Zhen’s face had already turned ashen. If Mo Xiuyao managed to escape after single-handedly storming the Northern Rong camp, it would be an unbearable humiliation for all of Northern Rong. With a cold snort, Helian Zhen brandished his longsword and lunged at Mo Xiuyao. Sharing the same thought, Yelv Ye unsheathed his blade without hesitation and joined the assault. If Mo Xiuyao had come of his own accord, capturing or killing him would be an immense boon for Northern Rong. More importantly, eliminating Mo Xiuyao would solidify Yelv Ye’s standing in the Northern Rong royal court.

"Mo Xiuyao, you’ve got some nerve, truly looking down on us!" Yelv Ye spat coldly. Facing their attacks, Mo Xiuyao remained silent, merely offering a faint, icy smile as his sword sliced through the air like a streak of light, unleashing frigid sword energy.

He Lianpeng, already injured, stood aside and watched. The moment Helian Zhen and Yelv Ye engaged Mo Xiuyao, he knew they stood no chance—the gap in their martial prowess was insurmountable. They weren’t even fit to be mentioned in the same breath as him. Glancing at the bandages on his arm, He Lianpeng recalled the serene, snow-mountain Holy Maiden-like woman in white robes. A cold glint flashed in his eyes as he motioned to a nearby guard and whispered a few orders. The guard nodded and hurried away.

Watching Helian Zhen and Yelv Ye struggle under his sword, Mo Xiuyao curled his lips into a mocking smile. His gaze shifted to Helian Zhen, and without hesitation, he swung his blade with lethal intent. The overwhelming force of the strike left Helian Zhen no room to evade. Mo Xiuyao had abandoned Yelv Ye to focus solely on him. With no escape, Helian Zhen could only raise his sword in a desperate attempt to block the incoming strike.With a resounding crash, the hundred-pound steel longsword shattered into pieces. Mo Xiuyao's Flame Extinction Sword didn't pause for even a moment as it continued its deadly arc toward Helian Zhen's skull. The renowned Northern Rong general, who had been defeated by Mo Xiuyao eighteen years prior and had only recently mustered the strength to return, now found himself on the verge of becoming another victim beneath the blade before he could even achieve a single accomplishment. Watching Helian Zhen's eyes widen in terror and shock, a cold, bloodthirsty smile flickered in Mo Xiuyao's gaze.

"Die!"

"Clang—"

What seemed like slow motion was over in the blink of an eye. Another longsword intercepted Mo Xiuyao's thunderous strike, and Yelv Ye seized the opportunity to drag Helian Zhen to safety. Though spared from death, the onlookers remained shaken to their core.

Helian Peng now held a faintly golden greatsword—though it had been cleaved in two. His sword hand trembled uncontrollably, and the wound on his other arm, previously bandaged, had split open again. Clearly, the surge of inner energy from his desperate block to save Helian Zhen had ruptured his injuries anew.

Mo Xiuyao lowered his gaze, his expression indifferent as he studied the Flame Extinction Sword in his hand. After a long pause, he finally looked up at Helian Peng and remarked, "Impressive skill. Murong Xiong's disciple?" Had Helian Peng not revealed himself, even Ye Li wouldn't have discerned his origins. Yet Mo Xiuyao had deduced his martial lineage from a single exchange. With a cold smirk, he added, "Seems killing Murong Xiong wasn't unjust after all."

Helian Peng showed little interest in Mo Xiuyao's identity as his master's killer. Gripping the broken blade, he growled, "I'm no match for Prince Ding. But what exactly is your intention today?"

"My intention?" Mo Xiuyao's smile twisted oddly as he stared at him. "Don't you already know?"

Yelv Ye released Helian Zhen and stepped beside Helian Peng, his voice grave. "Mo Xiuyao, don't think your martial prowess intimidates me. I refuse to believe you alone can challenge me amidst tens of thousands of troops!"

Mo Xiuyao sneered. "Since you're ignorant, I'll spell it out for you. Dare to lay a finger on A Li, and all of you will die!" The Flame Extinction Sword gleamed ominously as he flicked it casually—a nearby banner in the camp toppled instantly, severed cleanly.

A muscle twitched near Helian Peng's eye as he wiped a trickle of blood from his lips. "I'd like to see just how formidable Prince Ding truly is!" With a wave of his hand, countless black-clad figures surged from every corner of the camp, charging at Mo Xiuyao. These were Helian Peng's personally trained elites, their skills not far inferior to the Qilin. The Bei Rong people's bloodlust was innate, and the carnage Mo Xiuyao had already wrought only inflamed their thirst for slaughter. Without hesitation, they rushed at him, fearless of death.

Mo Xiuyao let out a long cry, his white-robed figure transforming into a streak of light as he tore through the crowd. Wherever he passed, blood sprayed, and severed limbs littered the ground.Although Yazi had temporarily trapped Mo Xiuyao, the expressions of Yelv Ye, Helian Zhen, and the others watching from the sidelines grew even more grim. Helian Zhen, already weakened from blood loss and further injured by Mo Xiuyao's inner energy strike, was deathly pale, his eyes filled with dark fury.

While He Lianpeng did not cherish these specially trained subordinates as much as Ye Li did, they were still far from ordinary soldiers. Even He Lianpeng had only a little over a thousand of them. Previously, losing over a hundred men to Ye Li had at least revealed some of her capabilities. But now, in just a blink of an eye, nearly a hundred had fallen to Mo Xiuyao. How could He Lianpeng's expression not darken?

Helian Zhen said coldly, "No matter what, we cannot let Mo Xiuyao leave here alive today!"

The sense of threat Mo Xiuyao gave him was overwhelming. If eighteen years ago, the young Mo Xiuyao had made him feel his defeat was merely due to carelessness, leaving him resentful, this encounter today had completely overturned Helian Zhen's long-held beliefs. The current Mo Xiuyao was absolutely beyond his ability to contend with. The brush with death he had just experienced was something he hadn't even felt eighteen years ago. Since he couldn't defeat Mo Xiuyao, he would stop at nothing to kill him!

The Northern Rong soldiers watching from the sidelines were also deeply shaken by the bloody scene. This spectacle was far more impactful than a battlefield. In war, everyone was fighting for their lives, and no one had the time to dwell on the carnage around them. But now, they were witnessing what could only be described as a one-sided slaughter. Those black-clad warriors, who had always seemed invincible in the eyes of ordinary soldiers, were as fragile as clay chickens and pottery dogs before the white-haired man in snowy robes. The blood-red rain falling on Mo Xiuyao's pristine white robes only heightened the murderous aura around his cold, bloodthirsty visage, making him seem like a blood-soaked Asura risen from hell.

"Ahhh... Kill this devil!" Finally, someone's nerves snapped, and they recklessly charged at the bloodstained white figure with their weapon raised. But before they could even touch a corner of his robe, they were cleaved in two by a sword beam.

"Archers, fire!" Yelv Ye commanded grimly. These black-clad Yazi might be able to trap Mo Xiuyao, even exhaust his inner energy and eventually kill him—but only if Mo Xiuyao chose not to flee. More importantly, even if he didn't, who knew how many Yazi lives it would take to drain his strength? Two thousand? Three thousand? They didn't have that many. By the time the last black-clad warrior fell, it might well be their turn to face the edge of the Annihilation Sword.

In an instant, arrows fell like torrential rain. Though aimed at Mo Xiuyao, many of the black-clad warriors were too close to him, and his erratic movements turned the volley into indiscriminate slaughter. Mo Xiuyao sneered, grabbing one of the warriors and hurling him forward, turning him into a human pincushion. With a flick of his sword, the arrows flying toward him were deflected as if hitting an invisible barrier, shooting back toward the archers who had loosed them.

"Yelv Ye, you're courting death!" Mo Xiuyao growled."Protect the Seventh Prince!" The crowd was shocked as dozens of people rushed forward to block Mo Xiuyao's furious sword strike aimed at Yelv Ye. Only three or four of those who had blocked the attack remained standing to shield Yelv Ye. Fortunately, Mo Xiuyao's attention was soon drawn away by arrows shot from behind, otherwise Yelv Ye's life would have truly been in peril. Though he had narrowly escaped death, Yelv Ye's face was pale as he glanced at Helian Zhen, who had similarly survived the ordeal, and couldn't help but let out a bitter, wry smile, no longer daring to issue reckless commands.

"Just how powerful is Mo Xiuyao's martial arts?" Yelv Ye murmured under his breath as he stared at the white-haired man in white robes.

He Lianpeng, clutching his wound and leaning against the tent entrance, was pale from blood loss and beginning to feel dizzy. "The current Mo Xiuyao could likely be called the strongest in the world. Over two years ago, he needed Lei Zhenting and Ling Tiehan's help to kill my master. But now... even if my master were at his peak, he might not be Mo Xiuyao's match." There exists a kind of person known as a genius—someone who seems to need neither rigorous training nor tempering, as if they were born to stand above others. Such geniuses even provoke the envy of the heavens. And Mo Xiuyao was clearly one of them.

Just as the entire Northern Rong Camp was trembling in fear from Mo Xiuyao's rampage, clamorous noises arose from outside the camp gates.

A red and a white figure streaked in like two phantoms, darting straight toward Mo Xiuyao.

"Mo Xiuyao!" Feng Zhiyao's voice was frantic, and it was fortunate he had shouted first—otherwise, he might have suffered the same fate as the pitiful Northern Rong assassins who had been mercilessly cut down by Mo Xiuyao.

Mo Xiuyao halted his sword and cast an annoyed glance at Feng Zhiyao and Han Mingyue, who had landed before him. "Who asked you to interfere?" Han Mingyue merely smiled without a word. He had only come along to help Feng Zhiyao and knew Mo Xiuyao wouldn't appreciate his efforts, so he chose to remain silent.

Feng Zhiyao was so furious he nearly exploded. He grabbed Mo Xiuyao and snapped, "Still not leaving? Do you want to die here?!" Under normal circumstances, Feng Zhiyao would never have been able to lay a hand on Mo Xiuyao, but after his killing spree, Mo Xiuyao's rage and bloodlust had mostly dissipated, leaving him with a faint sense of exhaustion. Even if Mo Xiuyao truly was the strongest martial artist in the world, he had already slain hundreds of Northern Rong experts today—it was impossible for him to remain completely unaffected. His intention had been to vent his anger on the Northern Rong people and give them a warning, not to throw his life away. Even if Feng Zhiyao and Han Mingyue hadn't arrived, he would have left soon enough.

Now that Feng Zhiyao had pulled him away, Mo Xiuyao didn't linger. He cast a disdainful glance at Yelv Ye and said, "Let's go."

With that, he activated his Light Body Skill and soared toward the camp gates.

"Mo Xiuyao?!" Yelv Ye, provoked by that contemptuous look, roared in fury, "Kill them all!"

Han Mingyue, who had been left behind, sighed helplessly. With a swing of his sword, he deflected the incoming arrows and leaped into the air, following the others outside.Feng Zhiyao and Han Mingyue dared to charge straight into the Northern Rong Camp, naturally not without preparation. Even after the three of them left the camp, they were relentlessly pursued by the Northern Rong army. However, they had barely been chased for two or three miles when they saw the Mo Family Army's Black Cloud Cavalry arrayed in battle formation ahead. The three—Mo Xiuyao, Feng Zhiyao, and Han Mingyue—joined the Mo Family Army ranks and turned to face the pursuing Northern Rong forces, the two armies now in a standoff.

"Mo Xiuyao, one day, this prince will make sure you die a miserable death!" Yelv Ye roared, glaring at the bloodstained, white-robed Mo Xiuyao seated on horseback across from him. Mo Xiuyao let out a cold snort, pointing his sword at Yelv Ye as he sneered, "Those are my words exactly. Today was just a lesson. If there's a next time, this prince will take your wretched life! Withdraw!"

Watching Mo Xiuyao depart leisurely under the escort of the Mo Family Army, Yelv Ye's face turned ashen. "Fall back!" he barked.

Yelv Ye and his party returned to the camp. Mo Xiuyao's rampage today had resulted in over two hundred casualties among the ordinary soldiers of the Northern Rong Camp, while the Yazi troops specially trained by Helian Zhen and He Lianpeng suffered even heavier losses, with four to five hundred dead or wounded. The Scorching Annihilation Sword could slice through metal like mud—let alone striking vital points, even a mere brush with its sword energy would leave one severely injured or half-dead. Those wounded soldiers might as well be dead, as they would never return to the battlefield. Yet this wasn't the worst of it. Compared to an army of millions, the loss of a few hundred men was almost negligible. The true devastation lay in the psychological trauma inflicted upon the Northern Rong soldiers. Prince Ding alone had cut a bloody swath through a camp of hundreds of thousands, unstoppable and unchecked. This deepened the fear the Northern Rong soldiers already harbored toward the Mo Family Army's reputation, adding tenfold terror to the name of Prince Ding.

"Seventh Highness," He Lianpeng knelt in the main tent. Having suffered severe injuries without proper rest, his resolute face now bore traces of exhaustion and frailty. Yelv Ye stared at him coldly and asked, "Do you have anything to say?" Today's disaster had stemmed from He Lianpeng's attempt to target Ye Li. Yelv Ye had opposed the plan from the start—not because he didn’t want to deal with Ye Li, but because as Princess Ding, she was undoubtedly surrounded by countless elite guards, making success nearly impossible. Moreover, the fates of those who had previously targeted Ye Li served as grim reminders.

Sure enough, He Lianpeng's failure had provoked Mo Xiuyao's ruthless retaliation. This time, their loss wasn’t just the lives of a few hundred soldiers, but the morale of the entire Northern Rong army. It would likely take several staggering victories to restore it.

He Lianpeng remained silent for a moment before bowing his head. "This general has nothing to say. I await Your Highness's punishment."

Yelv Ye studied him for a long while before sighing. "Forget it. You're badly injured—get up and recover first. We’ll discuss this later." Though displeased with the consequences of He Lianpeng's actions, Yelv Ye wasn’t about to weaken his own forces now. He waved dismissively, signaling He Lianpeng to rise, who then expressed his gratitude and stood.

Yelv Ye turned to Helian Zhen, seated nearby, and asked, "Uncle, do you have any thoughts?"

Helian Zhen had been silent since their return. At Yelv Ye's question, he sighed. "I never imagined Mo Xiuyao would change so drastically in just over a decade. Your Highness, if this man is not eliminated, he will become Northern Rong’s greatest threat."

Yelv Ye frowned. "You’re right, Uncle. But countless have tried to kill Mo Xiuyao—who has succeeded? The man today is not the same as before." In the past, the Prince Ding's Estate had been restrained by the Chu imperial family, leaving gaps for them to exploit and deliver a fatal blow. Unfortunately, the snake had survived, allowing Mo Xiuyao to grow into Northern Rong’s greatest enemy. Now, the Prince Ding's Estate had long broken free from Chu, with Mo Xiuyao ruling unchallenged. Moreover, the estate was united, leaving no weaknesses to exploit.

Helian Zhen lowered his gaze. "From today’s events, it seems Princess Ding is Prince Ding’s only weakness."

"Uncle! Absolutely not!" Yelv Ye snapped sharply.Helian Zhen was taken aback, looking at Yelv Ye in confusion. Yelv Ye gave a helpless, bitter smile and said, "Uncle, haven’t you understood today’s events? There’s no need to scheme against Ye Li anymore. Unless Mo Xiuyao dies, no one can touch Ye Li again." Mo Xiuyao’s actions today had made it abundantly clear to everyone that anyone who dared harm Ye Li would be killed, even if it cost him his life. Fortunately, today’s incident could be considered a warning. If Mo Xiuyao had truly been determined to kill them, even if he had exhausted himself to death, none of the three of them would have escaped alive before he fell.

Those in power often claim they will spare no cost, but that "cost" never includes themselves. What good is killing Mo Xiuyao or destroying Prince Ding’s Estate if they lose their own lives? The benefits would only go to others.

After a long silence, Helian Zhen finally sighed and said, "Who would have thought Prince Ding’s Estate would produce such a devoted man?"

Helian Peng stood up and addressed Yelv Ye, "Your Highness, this general requests permission to go to the Vulture Peak Mountain Camp."

Yelv Ye frowned. "Do you still intend to act against Ye Li?"

Helian Peng replied, "This general will not target Princess Ding again. However, Princess Ding is currently commanding the Vulture Peak Mountain Camp, and our forces also need someone to oversee them. Given Princess Ding’s cunning strategies, I fear the officers stationed there may not be up to the task."

After some thought, Yelv Ye nodded. "Very well. Once your injuries have healed, you may go. But do not provoke Ye Li again." He couldn’t help adding a final warning. Helian Peng nodded. "This general understands. My injuries are minor. I can depart tomorrow."

"Go ahead," Yelv Ye waved dismissively, saying no more.

In the Mo Family Army’s camp, Third Master Feng’s imposing aura was palpable. His handsome face was flushed with anger as he glared at the man seated leisurely in the commander’s seat, who was calmly bandaging his wounds. The words that spilled from Feng’s lips were so scathing that an ordinary person might have been driven to hang themselves in shame to escape the humiliation.

But Prince Ding, fresh from his bloody rampage, was in an exceptionally good mood and paid no heed to Third Master Feng’s furious tirade. He didn’t bother asking for help, simply grabbing a nearby cloth to wrap around the wound on his arm, ignoring the other minor injuries entirely.

"Feng San, when did you turn into an old nag? Don’t you find your own babbling tiresome?" Mo Xiuyao finally glanced up at Feng San after finishing his bandaging, his tone indifferent.

Feng San choked on his words, his anger flaring even hotter. He roared, "Mo Xiuyao, if you want to die, don’t drag the entire Prince Ding’s Estate down with you! Charging alone into the Northern Rong Camp—oh, mighty Prince Ding, peerless in martial arts, so impressive! Why didn’t you just kill Yelv Ye, the King of Northern Rong, Lei Zhenting, and Mo Jingli while you were at it? If they were all dead, the world would be at peace. Of course, don’t forget to slit your own throat last!" By the end, Feng San was so enraged that he laughed, flashing Mo Xiuyao a malicious, mocking grin.

"Annoying," Mo Xiuyao remarked coolly.Feng Zhiyao was so furious that he grabbed the nearest object at hand and hurled it at Mo Xiuyao before slamming the table and storming out. "Go die if you want! I quit!" he shouted angrily as he marched toward the exit. Fortunately, only Han Mingyue and Han Mingxi were present in the tent. Had the other generals of the Mo Family Army witnessed this, Feng Zhiyao would undoubtedly have been charged with insubordination.

Mo Xiuyao frowned, effortlessly catching the object Feng Zhiyao had thrown. "Stop. Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to Vulture Peak Mountain!"

"Dare to look for A Li, and I'll break your legs," Mo Xiuyao said darkly. "Enough. I understand today's matter. It was merely a lesson for Yelv Ye—it won't happen again. You're all tired. Go rest." With that, Prince Ding waved his hand and strode out of the tent, leaving behind a stunned Feng Zhiyao sitting in a daze. It took him a long moment to react. "Mo Xiuyao! I saved your life, and you’ll break my legs?!" This was the epitome of valuing romance over brotherhood. If anyone wanted to know what it meant to betray friends for a wife, they need only look at Prince Ding.

Han Mingyue and Han Mingxi exchanged glances, sympathetically patted Feng Zhiyao’s shoulder, and left as well.

Whatever had transpired in the Mo Family Army’s camp, under Prince Ding’s stern—almost threatening—orders, it naturally never reached Ye Li’s ears. That same night, Ye Li arrived at the Vulture Peak Mountain camp with Qin Feng and the others. Since Vulture Peak Mountain was not the main battlefield and had the Flying Goose Pass as its stronghold, Prince Ding’s Estate, already stretched thin in manpower, had not stationed many troops there. Only Zhou Min, originally a deputy under Zhang Qilan, was stationed with fifty thousand Mo Family Army soldiers and another fifty thousand former Great Chu troops.

Ye Li’s group had arrived without prior notice, so no one came to greet them. However, the scene they witnessed at the outskirts of the camp made Ye Li frown deeply. It was already late at night—normally, aside from the patrolling guards, the Mo Family Army soldiers would have been asleep. Yet before they even approached the camp, raucous laughter and clamor reached their ears. This wasn’t the sound of an emergency but of soldiers drinking and carousing. Ye Li’s delicate features darkened instantly.

Zhuo Jing and the others, being shadow guards, had little experience with the regular army. Qin Feng, originally from the Black Cloud Cavalry, was accustomed to even stricter discipline than the Mo Family Army. None of them had ever encountered such a scene, and their expressions turned grim. Only Yun Ting and Chen Yun, both having served in the army before, remained composed. Yun Ting coughed lightly and whispered, "Wang Fei, these likely aren’t Mo Family Army soldiers but the former Great Chu troops we gathered after reclaiming the lost territories." Yun Ting had served in the Great Chu army. Though Murong Shen was known for strict discipline, there were always those who feigned compliance. He had also heard of many cases of lax discipline. These Great Chu troops had been utterly defeated by the Northern Rong and, had the Mo Family Army not taken them in, would have been little better than bandits. Seeing this behavior didn’t surprise him in the least.Ye Li quickly grasped the crux of the matter. The Vulture Peak Mountain camp was jointly managed by the Mo Family Army and the remnants of the Chu army. Naturally, these remaining Chu soldiers couldn't compare to the Mo Family Army in combat effectiveness or other aspects, and some might have given up entirely. Zhou Min had only recently taken command and likely struggled to discipline them.

Suppressing her anger, Ye Li said calmly, "Let's go in and take a look."

As their group appeared at the main gate, the guards who had been drinking and playing games finally remembered their duties. They hastily stood up and demanded sharply, "Who goes there?"

Ye Li asked in a low voice, "Where is General Zhou?"

When the guard saw a young and beautiful woman among the visitors, he couldn't help but feel contempt. Waving his hand dismissively, he said, "This is a military camp. What business does a woman have asking questions? Get lost!"

"How dare you!" Qin Feng's voice turned icy. "Princess Ding has arrived. Tell General Zhou to come out and receive her at once."

The guards were stunned for a moment. After scrutinizing Ye Li and her companions, they burst into laughter. "You say she's Princess Ding? A frail little girl dares to impersonate Princess Ding? What audacity! I bet you're Northern Rong spies!" It had to be said that while Princess Ding's reputation was formidable, few had actually seen Ye Li. Her delicate appearance was quite deceptive, and under the dim light of night, she truly resembled a fragile noblewoman.

"If she's Princess Ding, then I must be Prince Ding!" one guard boasted with a smirk.

"How dare you!" Qin Feng's expression darkened. Before the guards could react, he had already seized the speaker by the collar and hurled him against the camp gate. The man coughed up blood in shock, only to find a gleaming sword pressed against his throat. Qin Feng sneered, "Quite the bold one. Do you have a death wish?"

The sudden violence startled the other guards, who began shouting in alarm, even forgetting to sound the enemy alarm or beat the war drums. The sight only deepened Ye Li's frown.

Soon, the camp erupted into chaos. Soldiers rushed over in disarray, only to freeze in confusion when they saw no enemy troops—just a few striking men and women at the gate. They stood dumbfounded, unsure what to do.

Then a drunken officer staggered forward. The gate guards hurried to report, "General, these people are impersonating Princess Ding and tried to force their way in—"

"W-what? How dare—" The officer began to rage, but Zhuo Jing coldly thrust a black jade pendant in his face. "See this clearly?"

The officer's eyes widened as he took in the imposing character "Ding" carved into the dark jade. His legs nearly gave way. "P-Princess Ding?"

Ye Li stepped forward, fixing him with a cool gaze. "State your name. Where is General Zhou?"The officer quickly replied, "This humble general... This humble general was originally the commander-in-chief of Luozhou City in Great Chu, Sun Yaowu. General Zhou Min... General Zhou's main camp is still about ten miles away from here."

It turned out that ever since Zhou Min and Sun Yaowu had been stationed here together, the Mo Family Army and these remnants of Great Chu's forces had been at odds. These remnants had been utterly devastated by the Bei Rong people and were nearly useless on the battlefield. If not for the concern that they might turn to banditry and harm civilians, they would have long been dismissed and sent back to their farms.

Zhou Min had only recently taken independent command and lacked sufficient authority. While the Mo Family Army maintained strict discipline, he had no control over these remnants of Great Chu's forces. Left with no choice, Zhou Min stopped expecting anything from them and simply had them set up camp ten miles behind the battlefield, while he led fifty thousand Mo Family Army soldiers to guard the front lines against the Bei Rong people. Since they were close to Flying Goose Pass, where Yuan Pei had over two hundred thousand troops stationed, the situation wasn’t too dire.

Even so, Ye Li was furious. If she hadn’t insisted on coming to Vulture Peak Mountain, this very place might have been the first to collapse when the two armies clashed.

"This humble general was unaware of Wang Fei's arrival and failed to greet you from afar. Please forgive this offense. May Wang Fei rest in the camp for a while—this humble general will send someone to summon General Zhou immediately." Sun Yaowu’s combat skills were unknown, but his ability to flatter and ingratiate himself was quite polished.

Ye Li was displeased and was about to refuse, intending to leave for Zhou Min’s camp, when a steady, rhythmic sound of hoofbeats approached from the distance. In moments, a middle-aged man on horseback appeared at the forefront, reined in at the gate, dismounted, and knelt on one knee before Ye Li, lifting the hem of his battle robe.

"This humble general, Zhou Min, greets Wang Fei."

－－－－－－Author's Note－－－－－－

Writing ten thousand words in a day is so exhausting~ Come give me kisses, my dear readers~ Love you all, no explanation needed~