Mo Li

The six-month-long war came to an abrupt and unexpected halt. The last remaining hundreds of thousands of Northern Rong troops were annihilated in the Valley of Returning Winds, turning the entire gorge into a river of blood and a field of corpses. As for the scattered Northern Rong soldiers stationed elsewhere, they were swiftly and decisively wiped out by the Mo Family Army. Though this battle seemed unremarkable at first glance, its sheer scale alone was enough to overshadow most of the Mo Family Army’s past military achievements. Not a single one of the over one million Northern Rong soldiers managed to escape back to their homeland. The Northern Rong not only lost more than a million troops in this battle but also nearly seventy percent of their generals. It would take them decades to recover from such a devastating blow.

When the battlefield was being cleared, the Mo Family Army soldiers brought a prisoner before Mo Xiuyao and the others, much to their surprise. The captive was none other than Helian Zhen, the Flying Cavalry General of the Northern Rong. Even Yelv Ye had perished in the chaos of battle, yet Helian Zhen had somehow survived.

Mo Xiuyao’s handsome eyes darkened slightly as he cast a cold glance at the two soldiers escorting Helian Zhen. The soldiers quickly reported, “Your Highness, this man claims to have crucial intelligence about the Northern Rong to share with you. That’s why we—”

The others understood—Helian Zhen, fearing death at the last moment, had sought to trade information for his life. The Mo Family Army generals regarded him not only with contempt but also with deep resentment. Nineteen years ago, the fallen soldiers of the Mo Family Army had not died at the hands of a heroic warrior but a cowardly and dishonorable man.

In truth, Helian Zhen might not have been a coward nineteen years ago. But after more than a decade away from the battlefield—even his defeat at Mo Xiuyao’s hands had occurred long before his prime—his former resolve and valor had long since eroded. All that remained was his bitterness over losing to Mo Xiuyao. And when it became clear that he could never defeat Mo Xiuyao, even that bitterness faded, leaving only his desperate will to survive.

“Prince Ding, spare my life, and I will reveal all of the Northern Rong’s military deployments!” Helian Zhen pleaded fervently, his eyes burning with urgency. He didn’t want to die—not even nineteen years ago had he felt this overwhelming fear of death.

Mo Xiuyao’s lips curled into a disdainful sneer. “You haven’t held military command in nineteen years, General Helian. Do you truly know the Northern Rong’s current deployments?”

Helian Zhen faltered. “I—I can tell you everything I know! Just spare me!” At this point, he finally realized he had no leverage to bargain with Mo Xiuyao and began to panic.

Killing intent flickered in Mo Xiuyao’s eyes, but he did not act on it immediately. Instead, he closed his eyes briefly to steady his emotions. When he opened them again, they were calm—eerily so. Yet Helian Zhen sensed something ominous.

Then, in a voice as placid as still water, Mo Xiuyao commanded, “Take him out and execute him.”

“Yes, Your Highness!” The two soldiers showed no hesitation as they dragged Helian Zhen away once more. The sound of his frantic cries and pleas for mercy echoed behind him, filling the onlookers with pity. A once-renowned general, now stripped of his honor, still could not escape death.The tent fell into silence for a moment, with everyone looking somewhat dazed. Young generals like Yun Ting could hardly believe it—had they truly annihilated the entire Northern Rong army, which not only outnumbered them but was also no less formidable in strength?

Sun Yaowu froze for a second before suddenly bursting into loud, wailing sobs. Though he didn’t share the old grudges some of the Mo Family Army veterans held against Northern Rong, the brutal invasion of Great Chu three years ago, which had left countless dead, had filled him with hatred no less intense than theirs.

Zhou Min patted Sun Yaowu on the shoulder and chuckled, “Old Sun, you’re such a crybaby. Isn’t winning a good thing?” Sun Yaowu wiped his eyes and huffed, “What the hell do you know? I’m crying out of joy, got it?” Zhou Min rubbed his nose and decided not to argue with the rough man.

Mo Xiuyao’s expression remained calm as he said in a steady voice, “Enough. The entire army will rest and reorganize for two days. Zhou Min, Sun Yaowu.”

“At your command!” Zhou Min immediately stood and responded loudly, while Sun Yaowu hastily straightened up as well.

Mo Xiuyao continued, “The two of you will take charge of the border. The rest of us will head south in two days!”

“We obey your orders,” the group chorused.

Great Chu’s northern border was extremely long, and with Zhou Min being new to independent command and Sun Yaowu originally just a regional commander, their forces would normally be insufficient. However, it was now the depths of winter, and even if Northern Rong wanted to send reinforcements or avenge Yelv Ye, it would take at least two months. Moreover, after half a year of rigorous experience, both men were now capable of handling the responsibility, so Mo Xiuyao wasn’t worried.

Zhou Min was naturally pleased with the assignment, while Sun Yaowu, as a surrendered general, was deeply moved by Prince Ding’s trust in him. Both accepted their orders happily. The others understood that following Prince Ding south meant countless fierce battles ahead—but also greater opportunities for glory. The atmosphere in the tent quickly grew lively.

Ye Li, seated beside Mo Xiuyao, quietly reached out and took his hand. Mo Xiuyao turned to look at her gentle smile, his eyes filling with warmth and joy as he tightly clasped her hand in return.

Mo Xiaobao, sitting between them, glanced left and right at his parents before cheerfully placing his small hand over theirs.

Not far from Huifeng Valley, atop a small hill, stood an inconspicuous solitary grave. There wasn’t even a tombstone in front of it, and the mound was covered in withered grass. At a glance, one might mistake it for nothing more than a grassy knoll.

Mo Xiuyao held Ye Li’s hand while leading Mo Xiaobao as they stood before the grave. Ye Li gave him a questioning look, then a flicker of understanding passed through her eyes. Mo Xiuyao said softly, “A Li, this is my elder brother.”

Without further questions, Ye Li nodded and stepped forward, bowing gracefully. “Your sister-in-law, Ye Li, greets my elder brother.” She then turned to Mo Xiaobao and said, “Xiao Bao, kowtow to your uncle.”

Mo Xiaobao blinked in confusion. Though he didn’t understand why there was another grave for his uncle here when they had already seen one in Chu Jing, he obediently walked to Ye Li’s side, knelt down, and respectfully kowtowed three times. “Mo Yuchen kowtows to my uncle.”Mo Xiuyao let out a faint sigh as he lifted the hem of his robe and knelt beside Ye Li. In a solemn voice, he said, "Elder Brother, do you see? Your younger brother has avenged you." Ye Li turned slightly and noticed that the position of this grave directly faced Huifeng Valley. If one stood here, they would have clearly witnessed everything that happened in Huifeng Valley yesterday.

Mo Xiuyao had practically been raised by Mo Xiuwen during his childhood, so he naturally held deep respect for his elder brother. For all these years, avenging his brother had remained an unwavering goal for Mo Xiuyao. Yet no one had expected that he would bury Mo Xiuwen in such a remote and desolate place, far from Chu Jing.

After paying his respects, Mo Xiuyao helped Ye Li to her feet and sat down on a patch of ground not far from the grave. Resting a hand on her shoulder, he said quietly, "Everyone believes Elder Brother's remains are buried in the ancestral tomb of Prince Ding's Estate in the capital. But that's not true. By the time I arrived at the border back then, his body had already been cremated. So I secretly replaced it—his true remains are buried here. I wanted him to watch from here. One day, I would avenge him and all the unjustly slain soldiers of the Mo Family Army."

Ye Li squeezed his hand and smiled. "You've done it. Elder Brother would be very happy." Mo Xiuyao replied with a trace of melancholy, "I don't know if he would be happy. But... Elder Brother will never return." The burning desire for vengeance had consumed him for so long, yet now that it was finally achieved, he only felt a deeper sense of emptiness and solitude. He had first experienced this hollowness when Mo Jingqi died, but now it was even more pronounced. Because no matter how many enemies he killed, those already lost would never come back.

"Xiu Yao..." Ye Li called out softly, concern in her voice.

Mo Xiuyao smiled faintly. "Don't worry. I still have you, Prince Ding's Estate, and the Mo Family Army." Holding Ye Li's hand, he glanced at Mo Xiaobao, who was uncharacteristically well-behaved beside them, and warmth filled his heart. Fortunately... fortunately, A Li was here, along with their child and their family. Otherwise, Mo Xiuyao might truly have been lost, unsure how to continue living after achieving his vengeance.

Mo Xiaobao pouted, then suddenly threw himself into Mo Xiuyao's arms. "Father, you still have me and my younger siblings! When I grow up, I'll destroy Northern Rong for you!"

Mo Xiuyao gave him an amused look. "Oh? This prince will be waiting."

Mo Xiaobao huffed indignantly. "Father, you're looking down on me! Just wait—when this heir grows up, I'll definitely destroy Northern Rong and show you!" Mo Xiuyao nodded. "Indeed, this prince is waiting to see it."

Deeply offended by his father's dismissive attitude, Mo Xiaobao let out an indignant yell and clung to Mo Xiuyao, refusing to let go. Watching the father and son roughhouse, Ye Li couldn't help but chuckle. Softly, she asked, "Should we move Elder Brother's remains back to Chu Jing?"

Mo Xiuyao shook his head with a smile. "No need. Let him stay here. In the future..." In the future, the Mo family's ancestral tomb might not even remain in Chu Jing. Besides, this place was quieter. Hadn't history shown that the grand mausoleums of kings and nobles, glittering with wealth, only became easy targets for grave robbers when dynasties rose and fell?The past year had been eventful. At the end of the year, Mo Jingli, the regent of Great Chu who had long entrenched himself in Jiangnan, finally ascended the throne officially. Before the new year celebrations had even concluded, earth-shattering news emerged from the north—the million-strong army that had invaded Great Chu was completely annihilated by the Mo Family Army, with not a single soldier returning to Northern Rong. This news sent shockwaves throughout the land, and many displaced citizens of Great Chu wept openly while secretly planning their return north. Unfortunately, though Northern Rong was destroyed, the northern regions remained embroiled in endless warfare. The newly crowned Emperor of Chu, Mo Jingli, who had been on the throne for less than half a month, led a 700,000-strong army northward, vowing to reclaim the lost territories.

Meanwhile, the Western Liang Army led by Lei Zhenting had already breached Ruichang and laid siege to Weicheng, which now teetered on the brink of collapse.

Weicheng

On the city walls, Marquis Nan and Murong Shen sat facing each other, each holding a piece in a game of Go. Below the walls, several miles away, lay the encampment of the Western Liang Army. The fluttering banners in the distance radiated an overwhelming aura of battle.

Murong Shen shook his head and tossed his piece aside with resignation. "Marquis Nan, you truly have remarkable composure. I've never had much patience for these games." Marquis Nan looked up with a smile. "General Murong, there's no need for such agitation."

"How can I not be agitated?" Murong Shen replied impatiently. "Ruichang has already fallen, and now Lei Zhenting's forces have surrounded Weicheng. We're powerless to act—how can I remain calm?" Marquis Nan chuckled. "The situation is already far better than we anticipated, isn't it? Originally, His Highness said holding Flying Goose Pass for three months would suffice. Now, nearly two months have passed, and Weicheng is still in our hands. This means things are unfolding exactly as His Highness predicted. Our forces are inferior to Lei Zhenting's, and our tactics fall short of his. Why blame yourself, General Murong?"

Murong Shen sighed, looking somewhat abashed. "I suppose I've been too restless. It's just... I've spent half my life on the battlefield, yet this is the first time I've been so thoroughly suppressed without any means to fight back." Having fought hundreds of battles, Murong Shen had naturally experienced both victories and defeats, but never before had he been so completely overwhelmed from the outset. It was only natural for him to feel unsettled.

Marquis Nan smiled. "Lei Zhenting bears the title of Western Liang's God of War. Throughout his illustrious career, he has only ever been defeated by the former regent and the current Princess Ding. If not for him, why would His Highness take the risk of eliminating Northern Rong first to focus on dealing with Lei Zhenting?" As for Mo Jingli's Great Chu, truth be told, the Mo Family Army hardly regarded it as a threat. Half of Great Chu's renowned generals had already joined Prince Ding's Estate, and in recent years, no remarkable young commanders had emerged. With Mo Jingli's paranoia—no less severe than Mo Jingqi's—he would undoubtedly keep military authority tightly in his own hands to prevent another Prince Ding's Estate from splitting his power.

Murong Shen nodded. "Thank you for the reminder, Marquis Nan."

Marquis Nan patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Just relax. At the very least, we must hold Weicheng until His Highness returns. We certainly can't retreat to Flying Goose Pass and trouble Senior General Yuan, can we?" Murong Shen smiled and nodded. "Your Lordship speaks wisely.""Reporting to Marquis Nan and General Murong! An urgent eight-hundred-li dispatch has arrived!" A soldier hurried up the city wall and presented a wax-sealed letter. Marquis Nan took it, opened it, and couldn't contain his joy. Noticing his expression, Murong Shen quickly asked, "Has His Highness sent good news?" Marquis Nan nodded with a smile, "Indeed. Prince Ding has annihilated the Northern Rong army at Huifeng Valley, killed their seventh prince, and captured Helian Zhen alive."

Hearing this news, Murong Shen was equally exhilarated. Though they had now pledged allegiance to Prince Ding's Estate, as natives of Great Chu, their hatred for the Northern Rong people ran as deep as anyone's. The news of Prince Ding's complete victory over the Northern Rong army felt like a long-awaited vindication. Marquis Nan grasped Murong Shen's arm, laughing, "General, don't be hasty. His Highness will arrive in a few days. But until then... this news must not leak."

Understanding immediately, Murong Shen glanced toward the distant Western Liang camp and chuckled, "Marquis Nan need not worry. This general guarantees not even a single bird will fly over the city walls." The two men exchanged glances and burst into hearty laughter. The soldiers guarding outside, hearing their commanders' mirth, though unaware of the reason, couldn't help but feel a sense of relief.

In the main tent of the Western Liang camp, Lei Zhenting frowned at the report before him and scanned the assembled generals. "Any news from Northern Rong?" he asked gravely. Lei Tengfeng stepped forward, "Reporting to Father, there has been no word from Northern Rong these past few days. With the severe cold in the north, both the Mo Family Army and the Northern Rong forces are likely moving slowly. The lack of news is probably normal."

Lei Zhenting's bushy, graying eyebrows furrowed deeper. "No," he shook his head. "Mo Xiuyao knows Mo Jingli's army is approaching soon. He wouldn't drag his feet in the north. I fear... something has gone wrong for Northern Rong."

"Father means..." Lei Tengfeng paused, somewhat dismissive. "Northern Rong's forces are no weaker than the Mo Family Army—perhaps even stronger. Even if Mo Xiuyao wanted to defeat them completely, it would take months at least."

Lei Zhenting shook his head again, regarding his son with mild disappointment. "Teng Feng, you excel in many ways, but you're too bound by convention, unwilling to think outside the box." Lei Tengfeng flushed slightly, perplexed. "Thinking outside the box... is that a good thing?"

Lei Zhenting smiled. "If you fail, it's called delusion. If you succeed, it's called strategy."

"Do you truly believe Mo Xiuyao could defeat Northern Rong in just two months? They've been fighting for months already, with only minor victories." Lei Tengfeng frowned.

Lei Zhenting pondered, his brow creased. "That's why I suspect Mo Xiuyao was holding back earlier. The Mo Family Army's performance last year was decent, but compared to their past achievements, it was mediocre at best—perhaps even... a significant decline."

"Then, if Northern Rong has truly been defeated..." Lei Tengfeng murmured, troubled.Lei Zhenting said, "Then it's our turn to face Mo Xiuyao head-on. Now that Mo Jingli's army has arrived, even if Mo Xiuyao returns, our chances of victory are greater. Moreover... I would rather confront Mo Xiuyao directly than let him scheme in the shadows." Only in hindsight, upon careful reflection, could one discern the intricate moves Mo Xiuyao had laid out. Every time Lei Zhenting thought about it, he felt a chill run down his spine. The state of the world in recent years, the numerous conflicts, and the shifting power dynamics had all been under Mo Xiuyao's control. Or rather, the current changes in the world had unfolded precisely as Mo Xiuyao had intended. Such intellect and capability were truly terrifying. No wonder... no wonder the Emperor of Chu was so wary and fearful of Prince Ding's Estate.

"Father speaks wisely. Then we should now focus all our efforts on attacking Wei City. If we can capture Flying Goose Pass before Mo Xiuyao returns, we will have gained the upper hand," Lei Tengfeng said. Lei Zhenting nodded with a smile. "Exactly. And as for Mo Jingli... send someone to tell him not to keep fixating on Chu Jing. Even if he captures Chu Jing now, he won’t be able to hold it. Have him march his troops westward to flank from the north and join forces with us, lest Mo Xiuyao picks us off one by one." Ultimately, Lei Zhenting had little faith in the capabilities of Chu's generals. Though as Prince Zhennan of Xiling, he had no obligation to care about the fate of Chu's people, they were now allies—prospering or perishing together—so he couldn’t help but worry.

"Yes, Father," Lei Tengfeng acknowledged and accepted the order.

At Lei Zhenting's command, the assault on Wei City intensified. Nan Hou and Murong Shen, who had been barely holding on, now felt the strain even more. Standing atop the city walls, they watched the bloodshed below, their own soldiers exhausted. The Mo Family Army defending Wei City had once again repelled an attack by the Western Mausoleum Army. But they all knew the enemy wouldn’t retreat so easily—after a brief respite, they would charge again.

Murong Shen narrowed his eyes at the distant Western Mausoleum Army and muttered, "Has Lei Zhenting gone mad? Launching continuous attacks for days like this. Even if he takes Wei City, his own losses will be severe."

Nan Hou sighed. "Perhaps Lei Zhenting has already realized that Wang Ye is about to return."

Murong Shen frowned, but Nan Hou smiled. "Even if we’ve blocked the news, the complete lack of information would make him suspicious. With Lei Zhenting’s intelligence, it’s not hard for him to deduce the defeat of Northern Rong." Murong Shen nodded in agreement. Just as he was about to speak, his expression suddenly changed. "Here they come again!"

War drums thundered, and the resting soldiers immediately rushed back to their positions, ready for battle. In the distance, the Western Mausoleum Army advanced with fluttering banners and overwhelming momentum. Lei Tengfeng led the charge, galloping to the foot of the city walls. Pointing his whip at Nan Hou and Murong Shen on the ramparts, he laughed. "Nan Hou, General Murong, why resist stubbornly? Your Wei City has barely a hundred thousand troops left—how can you hope to stop our million-strong Western Mausoleum Army? Why not surrender to Xiling? My father will surely treat you both with great respect, not to mention granting you titles and promotions."

Nan Hou replied calmly, "I am flattered by Zhennan Wang Shizi's regard. However, though I lack talent and virtue, I could never betray my post in the face of battle."Murong Shen had no patience for his nonsense and declared loudly, "Enough talk! If you want to fight, then fight!"

Lei Tengfeng's expression darkened slightly as he smiled faintly. "Why must the two generals be so angry? I am only thinking of your well-being. Both of you are renowned commanders of your generation—why stake your lives on a battle you cannot win?"

Murong Shen snorted coldly, snatched a bow and arrow from a nearby soldier, and loosed a shot straight at Lei Tengfeng. Teng Feng sidestepped the arrow, his face turning grim. Pointing his whip at the figures on the city wall, he said sharply, "Murong Shen, if you refuse to recognize a good offer, don’t blame this prince for showing no mercy."

Murong Shen sneered. "This general was unaware of any 'mercy' between me and Zhennan Wang Shizi. If you want war, then war it is! The Mo Family Army has no cowards who fear death."

Humiliated before the Western Liang army, Lei Tengfeng wasted no more words. "Attack the city!" he barked.

At the rear of the Western Mausoleum Army, Lei Zhenting watched Lei Tengfeng's actions from afar and shook his head helplessly. He sighed softly, "Teng Feng still lacks patience." It wasn't necessarily about persuading Marquis Nan and Murong Shen to surrender, but rather that Lei Tengfeng was so easily provoked—a trait unbecoming of a true leader.