Mo Li

On the city walls, several dazzling flashes of light streaked across the sky. Three figures swiftly rose from the ground and engaged in a fierce battle. Ordinary martial artists could hardly follow their movements—only countless afterimages flickering through the air and bursts of sword energy and inner force radiating in all directions. The crowd quickly retreated to a safe distance, gazing up at this legendary battle.

The only one who could somewhat discern the fight was Han Mingyue. Yet even he stood transfixed, his eyes fixed intently on the three combatants in the sky, too absorbed to answer the questions of those beside him.

A thunderous boom echoed, and before anyone could react, a black figure plummeted from the sky, crashing heavily onto the ground atop the city wall. Han Mingyue and Qin Feng immediately moved to shield Ye Li on either side. When the crowd turned their gaze, they saw Lei Zhenting sprawled on the ground, blood streaming from his right wrist and legs. His expression was haggard, his face deathly pale, and his eyes dim with defeat. Han Mingyue took one look and relaxed—Lei Zhenting’s martial arts had clearly been crippled, and with his limbs injured, he was no longer a threat.

Soon after, Mo Xiuyao and Ling Tiehan landed simultaneously. Neither was in good shape. Mo Xiuyao’s snow-white robes were stained with several streaks of blood, the wound on his left arm particularly gruesome. Ling Tiehan’s blue cloth garment was torn with a long gash, and a thin cut traced his neck—just a fraction deeper, and it would have been mutual destruction.

“Xiu Yao…” Ye Li frowned slightly at the sight of Mo Xiuyao’s injuries. Yet Mo Xiuyao was in high spirits. With Lei Zhenting dealt with, nearly all those he had schemed against over the years had been vanquished. Even the lingering gloom and ferocity between his brows had faded considerably.

“A Li, I won,” Mo Xiuyao said with a smile.

Ye Li nodded softly. “I know.”

“Cough…” Lei Zhenting, slumped on the ground, coughed weakly, spitting out blood. He turned his head to glare at Mo Xiuyao. “Why not kill me?”

Mo Xiuyao’s voice was icy. “This prince said… I would make you wish you were dead. And I always keep my word.”

Lei Zhenting sneered. “This prince never expected Prince Ding to take pleasure in torturing prisoners.”

“As long as you admit you’re a prisoner, that’s enough. There’s much you don’t know,” Mo Xiuyao replied with a chilling smile. “Would you like to hear how I plan to entertain you?” His eyes suddenly blazed with ruthless malice, as though he longed to tear Lei Zhenting apart but was forcing himself to let him live.

Before Lei Zhenting could respond, a flash of sword light streaked from the side. Mo Xiuyao erupted in fury. “Ling Tiehan, you seek death!”

Ling Tiehan’s blade had already pierced Lei Zhenting’s chest. A spray of blood erupted, and a gaping hole was left in Lei Zhenting’s torso. His breathing grew shallow, his life clearly slipping away.Ling Tiehan had been standing closer to Mo Xiuyao, who was also supporting Ye Li with one hand. How could Mo Xiuyao possibly block Ling Tiehan's swift and ruthless strike? After being stabbed by Ling Tiehan, Lei Zhenting didn't feel pain. Instead, he cast a mocking smile toward Mo Xiuyao, as if saying, "Didn't you want me to suffer a fate worse than death? Well, this prince is about to die now."

"Heh... Ling Tiehan... Thirteenth Brother... thank you," Lei Zhenting murmured with a faint smile. His dimming gaze swept over Mo Xiuyao and Ye Li, flickering with a trace of regret and concern. But he could no longer speak, and slowly, the last glimmer of light faded from his eyes.

"Xiu Yao!" Ye Li caught Mo Xiuyao's hand as he raised it to strike Ling Tiehan, whispering softly, "I'm a little tired. Let's go back and rest."

Mo Xiuyao's expression softened as he looked down at Ye Li's delicate face, still stained with traces of blood. His eyes filled with remorse. "Alright, let's go back and rest first. General Leng, Feng San, you handle things here."

Feng Zhiyao nodded with a bitter expression—he hadn't rested for a full day and night either, hadn't he?

Ye Li turned to Ling Tiehan and said, "Master Ling, you may stay in the city to recover from your injuries before leaving. Mr. Shen has plenty of medicinal supplies."

Ling Tiehan cupped his hands in gratitude. "Many thanks, Wang Fei."

Watching Mo Xiuyao and Ye Li walk away together, Feng Zhiyao glanced back at Lei Zhenting's corpse on the ground and frowned. "What should we do with this?" Though an enemy, Lei Zhenting had been a formidable figure in his time, and Feng Zhiyao had no wish to desecrate his remains. As the saying went, death settled all debts—what meaning did hatred hold once a man was gone? Yet if Lei Zhenting had fallen into Mo Xiuyao's hands, he truly might have ended up dismembered beyond recognition.

Leng Huai raised an eyebrow, sharing Feng Zhiyao's sentiment. As a traditionally trained general, Leng Huai held a certain respect for renowned commanders. Unless absolutely necessary, he preferred not to dishonor an enemy's corpse outside the battlefield—such behavior was beneath a warrior.

Ling Tiehan swept a glance over Lei Zhenting's body and said, "This one will take him back to Western Liang. Would that be acceptable?"

"Of course," Leng Huai and Feng San exchanged a look before Feng Zhiyao added, "However... Prince Ding's Estate must cremate him first. Master Ling may only take the ashes back." It wasn't that Feng Zhiyao was overly cautious, but after witnessing Mo Xiuyao's return from death, he wasn't willing to take even the slightest risk.

Ling Tiehan didn't mind. That he could retrieve Lei Zhenting's remains at all was already an act of great loyalty. He nodded. "That's fine. This one can wait a few days."

Feng Zhiyao replied, "No need to wait days. It'll be done quickly." He had no intention of letting Ling Tiehan linger for days. Judging by Wang Ye's demeanor, his anger toward Lei Zhenting hadn't fully subsided—there was a chance he might turn his fury on Ling Tiehan later. If that were all, it wouldn't matter, but Ling Tiehan was severely injured now. Even without Wang Ye's direct involvement, Prince Ding's Estate had plenty of ways to finish him off. Yet Wang Fei clearly didn't want Ling Tiehan dead. If she ended up quarreling with Wang Ye over this, it wouldn't bode well for their subordinates.

Leng Huai, not as overthinking as Feng Zhiyao, gave him a puzzled glance but found nothing amiss and nodded in agreement.

Ling Tiehan inclined his head. "In that case, many thanks.""Master Ling, there’s no need for formalities. In fact, we should be the ones thanking you," Feng Zhiyao said sincerely. Regardless of the reasons, it was undeniable that Ling Tiehan had saved the lives of many, including the Wang Fei. If Ling Tiehan hadn’t arrived in time, today’s outcome would have been hard to predict.

Ye Li and Mo Xiuyao returned to the general’s residence. After freshening up, Mo Xiuyao stepped out to find Ye Li sitting at the table, staring absently at the food before her. Despite the recent battle that had nearly wiped them out, the servants of the general’s residence had dutifully prepared a delicious breakfast, serving it shortly after their return so it would be ready by the time they finished washing up.

Freshly bathed, Ye Li had changed out of her bloodstained clothes and washed away the exhaustion and grime from her face, leaving her looking even more delicate and radiant. Yet seeing her lost in thought over the meal, Mo Xiuyao frowned slightly, an instinctive displeasure stirring in him. He walked over quietly and wrapped his arms around her from behind, whispering, "A Li, what’s on your mind?"

Ye Li snapped out of her daze and shook her head. "Nothing… It’s just that everything has been so tense these past days. Now that it’s suddenly over, I feel a little at a loss."

Mo Xiuyao nuzzled her hair apologetically and said softly, "It’s my fault, A Li… From now on, nothing will trouble you anymore. Whatever you want to do, I’ll be by your side, alright?" Yes, from this moment on, nothing would ever disturb her again. No one in this world would ever pose a threat to his A Li. The Northern Rong had been defeated and wouldn’t recover for decades. Lei Zhenting was dead, and most of Western Liang’s elite troops had been left at Flying Goose Pass. The south still had to contend with the 300,000-strong army led by Murong Shen and Marquis Nan, while domestically, the Zhennan Wang estate and the Xiling imperial family were locked in their own conflicts. With Lei Tengfeng’s abilities, merely holding his ground would be an achievement. As for the southern Great Chu, Mo Jingli had been exiled, and a child not yet of age had ascended the throne, with real power lying in the hands of court officials and the Empress Dowager—hardly capable of stirring up trouble. From now on… who in the world would dare lay a finger on his A Li?

Ye Li looked at him in surprise. Mo Xiuyao blinked and smiled. "Why are you looking at me like that, A Li?"

Ye Li asked, "Are you planning to withdraw the troops?"

"The battles that needed to be fought are over. What else is there to do but withdraw?" Mo Xiuyao replied with a laugh.

Ye Li fell silent. She hadn’t expected Mo Xiuyao to make this decision so soon. His plans and strategies these past days had given her an uneasy feeling. It wasn’t that ambition was wrong—Mo Xiuyao had the strength and the right to contend for, even unify, the realm. But perhaps after witnessing increasingly brutal battles, she had developed an uncontrollable aversion to war. The number of lives lost over these years was simply too great.

Pulling Ye Li into his embrace, Mo Xiuyao’s handsome face softened with a gentle smile. He patted her back lightly and murmured, "A Li, you must be tired. Why don’t you rest for a while, hmm?"Ye Li nodded unconsciously, leaning against Mo Xiuyao as her eyes gradually closed. She was indeed quite exhausted. Only after Ye Li had fallen into a deep sleep did Mo Xiuyao carefully lift her and place her on the inner bed. Gazing down at her delicate face, still slightly furrowed in slumber, he tenderly traced her features with his fingers and whispered with a soft laugh, "Silly A Li, how could this prince not know what you're thinking? Besides... if I were to finish everything myself, wouldn't Mo Xiaobao end up becoming a wastrel?"

Gently tucking the blankets around Ye Li, Mo Xiuyao turned and walked out. On the desk in the outer room lay a piece of rice paper with hastily scribbled lines, evidently forgotten in haste by its writer:

*"With battles ceased by Huai's edge, roads reopen wide,

Crows clamor through the cold and empty sky.

Pity the bones piled high in lonely graves—

All for the general's glory they had died."*

Though this poem might be slightly biased when applied to the Mo Family Army, it clearly reflected the writer's perspective and emotions regarding the current situation.

Ye Li was truly exhausted, sleeping until dusk had fallen once more outside. Had Mo Xiuyao not worried about her prolonged fasting, she might have slept even longer.

Sitting up, Ye Li saw Mo Xiuyao sitting leisurely by her bedside, unchanged from before she had fallen asleep, indicating he hadn't rested at all. In truth, it wasn't just Ye Li and the defenders of Flying Goose Pass who had been worn out over the past day. Upon hearing that Ye Li remained at the pass, Mo Xiuyao had rushed back with his men at breakneck speed, only to engage in a fierce battle with Lei Zhenting immediately after. It was impossible for him not to be tired.

"Why haven't you rested?" Ye Li asked softly, her delicate brows slightly furrowed.

Mo Xiuyao shook his head with a smile, replying gently, "Watching you, I don't feel tired... You've slept long enough, A Li. It's time for some supper." Ye Li gazed silently at the man before her, whose tender smile made it seem as though the dark fury he had shown toward Lei Zhenting and Ling Tiehan had never existed. Noticing her silence, Mo Xiuyao's smile faded slightly as he pulled her into his arms and asked softly, "Are you angry with me, A Li?"

After a moment of silence, Ye Li sighed faintly and shook her head. "No, I know... you were right."

Mo Xiuyao also fell silent before finally smiling at her and saying, "You just can't accept it, can you? Indeed, this matter... I did it intentionally. Those useless men of Mo Jingli could never have harmed me. In truth... ever since you first handed me the list of spies in the Boundless Mountains, I had this plan. I understand Mo Jingli—I know what he's capable of when cornered. See, A Li? Everything has unfolded exactly as I envisioned. Only... I never expected you to disobey my orders and remain at Flying Goose Pass. Had Ling Tiehan not arrived in time... Thankfully, sparing his life back then was indeed the right decision..." His arm around Ye Li's waist trembled slightly, yet his lowered gaze and quiet voice still carried a faint smile. This stubborn tenderness only made Ye Li's heart ache all the more.She couldn't blame this man. Ye Li leaned quietly against Mo Xiuyao's chest, silently thinking. No matter how many things he did or how many ideas he had that she couldn't accept or agree with, she could never bring herself to blame him. It wasn't his fault—he wanted revenge, to protect his family and loved ones, to ensure Prince Ding's Estate endured in this world, to gain the most with the least sacrifice. By any measure, he wasn't wrong.

Mo Xiuyao gently held Ye Li, kissing her hair as he whispered with a soft laugh, "How I wish I could hide A Li in the safest, most beautiful palace in the world, where no one could ever see her or hurt her. But I can't do that… I know A Li wouldn’t like it. So… I want A Li to stand with me, to face everything together—even the things A Li dislikes. A Li, don’t hate me, alright?"

Even knowing you despise these things, I would rather tear open the cruelest truths before your eyes. Because this is Mo Xiuyao—not some refined noble bathed in moonlight, nor an ethereal immortal detached from the world. Mo Xiuyao is a demon who crawled out from mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Though A Li was never a delicate flower sheltered in a greenhouse, the depths of her heart remain kind and tender. How could she possibly enjoy such ruthless schemes and battlefields drenched in blood? But… what can I do? Mo Xiuyao only wants you by his side.

"Xiu Yao…" Ye Li sighed softly, lifting her gaze to meet his tender yet stubbornly resolute eyes. She reached up, lightly touching his snow-white hair, and murmured, "It’s not your fault—why would I blame you? I’m just… a little sad. I want to convince myself that their sacrifices had meaning. Even if all two hundred thousand defenders of Flying Goose Pass fell in battle, at least it shortened the war by years. In that time… how many more soldiers and civilians—far beyond two hundred thousand—would have perished? And what does my sadness even matter? I don’t even know most of their names—how deeply can I mourn them? With so many lives, even if I grieved until death, the emotion I could spare each would last less than half a moment. What worth does my sorrow hold to them? It’s just… every one of them had families, loved ones, children. Their pain will last a lifetime. So… Xiu Yao, I’m fine. I’m truly just a little sad. It’ll pass soon."

Mo Xiuyao lowered his head, gently patting Ye Li’s back in silent comfort. Seeing everything so clearly only made her seem more fragile than ever before. He held her close, his thin lips pressed into a stubborn mix of resolve and sorrow."I'm sorry, A Li," Mo Xiuyao said solemnly. He felt remorse toward her, but he would not admit fault. Like Ye Li, as the supreme commander of the Mo Family Army, he had not made a single wrong decision. Even if today the Mo Family Army had failed to arrive in time for the rescue, even if all the soldiers at Flying Goose Pass had perished in battle, or even if Western Liang troops had broken through to wreak havoc within the pass—no one could say Prince Ding's decision was wrong. Leading an army vastly outnumbered by the enemy, he had faced the combined forces of three nations in continuous battles. This time, he had staked everything on one decisive move, significantly shortening the duration of the war. As a leader, he was correct.

The only one he had wronged was his wife, his beloved. He had made her bear so much pain and face choices that should never have been hers to make. He had forced her to personally bury the Qilin, the elite troops she had painstakingly trained and assembled with her own hands. From beginning to end, the only person Mo Xiuyao had failed was Ye Li—his most cherished wife, whom he had once vowed to protect forever and keep happy and carefree.

"It's alright," Ye Li murmured softly, her heart tangled with emotions. No matter what he did, she would forgive him. A faint smile touched her heart—she hadn't realized when she had come to love him so deeply.

"A Li, it won't happen again."

"Alright, I understand." The lingering ache in her heart might never fully disappear, but it would gradually fade. Life was never perfect, and yet, what she had now was already more than enough. A man who could command the world yet grew anxious over her moods, several clever and adorable children, a circle of family who genuinely cared for her, and loyal friends and subordinates. What more could she ask for? Perhaps she and Mo Xiuyao would never see eye to eye on certain matters—she disliked schemes and intrigues, while he excelled in lethal deception. Or how she valued every life, while he saw no issue in using others as pawns. But he would yield for her, and she would accept him as he was. That was enough.

"Wang Ye, Wang Fei. Your subordinate requests an audience." Feng Zhiyao's voice sounded from outside the door.

Soon after, Mo Xiuyao and Ye Li appeared together in the outer hall. Feng Zhiyao was not the only one seeking an audience—Leng Huai, Han Mingyue, He Su, and even General Yuan Pei, who had fainted earlier that morning, were all present. Seeing the couple arrive hand in hand, Feng Zhiyao quietly exhaled in relief.

Feng Zhiyao was not only Mo Xiuyao's childhood friend and sworn brother but had also become a close friend to Ye Li over the years. As Third Master Feng, he understood these two better than most. He had expected tension between them upon their reunion, yet nothing of the sort had occurred. His admiration for Ye Li grew as he discreetly studied her.

Catching Mo Xiuyao's warning glance, Feng Zhiyao coughed lightly and averted his gaze, smiling. "Wang Ye, Wang Fei, apologies for the intrusion."

Mo Xiuyao gave him a cool look. "You realize how late it is. What brings you here?"

Ye Li shook her head in amusement and turned to Yuan Pei with a warm smile. "Old General, are you feeling better?"Yuan Pei quickly replied, "Thank you for your concern, Wang Fei. This humble general is fine. It's just that age has caught up with me, making me rather useless. I must have made a fool of myself in front of you." Ye Li smiled gently and said, "Old General, you are too modest. We owe much to your steadfast presence this time."

"A Li is right. Old General Yuan, please take a seat." Noticing Ye Li's glance in his direction, Mo Xiuyao also smiled graciously and added, "I suppose none of you have had dinner yet? Why not join us?"

Feng Zhiyao silently rolled his eyes: It's you and Wang Fei who haven't eaten, isn't it?

With Prince Ding personally extending the invitation, no one could easily refuse. Soon, maidservants brought in the prepared supper—simple and light dishes. Everyone had been exhausted these past days, and none had had a proper meal. For once, they found their appetites returning and enjoyed a hearty and delicious dinner.

After the maids cleared away the remnants of the meal, Mo Xiuyao finally asked, "Since you've come so late, is there something urgent?"

Leng Huai stood up and said, "Reporting to Wang Ye, we wished to inquire... how we should handle the Western Liang prisoners." In truth, this wasn’t an urgent matter, but Feng Zhiyao had dragged them here, and now he was lounging around, feigning indifference after eating his fill. Left with no choice, Leng Huai could only bring up this issue.

Though not urgent, it was by no means a trivial matter. The number of Western Liang soldiers captured amounted to nearly a hundred thousand. Such a massive group posed a significant problem no matter where they were placed, and any decision regarding their fate would be troublesome.

Hearing this, a glint flashed in Mo Xiuyao's eyes. He was about to speak when he paused upon seeing Ye Li beside him. After a moment's contemplation, he said, "Send them back to Western Liang. We won't ask for much—fifty taels of silver per soldier."

Leng Huai hesitated, "Will the Western Liang people agree?" Fifty taels wasn't much, but for over a hundred thousand men, the sum would be enormous. Moreover, raising an army of a hundred thousand wasn't difficult these days—it certainly wouldn't cost five or six million taels of silver. For Western Liang, this wouldn't be a favorable deal.

Mo Xiuyao sneered, "Announce this matter to the world. They'll have to agree whether they want to or not. If they still refuse... send all the prisoners north to farm." The north had been ravaged by the Bei Rong people and was in dire need of laborers to reclaim and cultivate the land.

Leng Huai thought it over and couldn't help but chuckle. Indeed, Prince Ding was as resourceful as ever. "This general obeys your command."

－－－－－－Author's Note－－－－－－

For those eagerly anticipating some torment, apologies for the disappointment—Lei Zhenting wasn't tortured. Ling Tiehan ended him with a single sword stroke. Consider this... the final respect for a peerless master and a formidable warlord. Sweatdrop~