The battle was finally over. Though the faint scent of blood still lingered in the air at Flying Goose Pass after the fierce combat, a semblance of its former tranquility had begun to return. The streets and city gates, usually bustling with leisurely comings and goings, were now empty. The soldiers of the Mo Family Army silently cleared the battlefield, washing away the bloodstains from the streets. Some of that blood belonged to their comrades, some to their enemies. Mixed together, no one could distinguish whose it was—yet both sides had paid a devastating price.
At dawn, Ye Li, accompanied by Qin Feng, Zhuo Jing, and Wei Lin, left Flying Goose Pass and arrived at a hillside not far away. By the time they reached it, many were already waiting there. Most of those present bore injuries, some grievously so. Every face was marked with solemn gravity. This was the resting place of over a thousand Qilin warriors.
Upon seeing Ye Li’s arrival, the hundred or so surviving Qilin soldiers immediately straightened and saluted in unison, "Greetings, Wang Fei."
Ye Li nodded solemnly and raised a hand. "At ease."
"Thank you, Wang Fei, for personally attending our brothers' funeral," said a weathered middle-aged man as he stepped forward, bowing deeply. He was the sole surviving squad leader of the Qilin unit stationed at Flying Goose Pass. Though Ye Li couldn’t recall every Qilin member’s name, she recognized most of the squad leaders—many of whom had risen from the first batch of trained Qilin operatives, with skills she herself had taught. She remembered this man’s name: Li Yu. Though he shared the name of the elegant, erudite Southern Tang poet-emperor, he was an entirely different man—one who rarely spoke even among his comrades. For him to step forward and address her now was no small gesture.
A faint, bitter smile touched Ye Li’s lips. "They were all trained under my guidance. How could I not come? I... am sorry."
The normally taciturn man’s eyes reddened instantly. Choking back emotion, he said, "No, Wang Fei bears no blame. As soldiers... it is an honor to die on the battlefield. Only, we..."
Ye Li’s gaze swept over the hundred-odd wounded soldiers before her. Compared to the once-disciplined and formidable Qilin, they now appeared battered and desolate. These were men who had never faltered even in the face of overwhelming odds, yet now their eyes brimmed with tears as they stared at the neat rows of graves before them. Here lay their comrades—those they had fought alongside through life and death. Just days ago, they might have gathered, laughing and chatting about their families, wives, children, and futures. Now, they were forever separated by the divide between life and death.
With a soft sigh, Ye Li stepped forward to a small clearing at the head of the graves. She bowed deeply three times, then spoke solemnly, "Offer the libation!"
Behind her, Qin Feng and Wei Lin moved forward, each carrying a jar of wine. They walked among the graves, pouring a measure of wine before each one. The Qilin soldiers watched, then followed suit, moving along the rows to honor their fallen brothers.A low, mournful melody of a zither rose from the clearing ahead. Everyone turned to see Ye Li seated on the ground, a simple ebony zither resting on her knees. Her slender fingers plucked the strings, drawing out a sorrowful tune that carried an ancient, desolate grief. This was the Song of Summoning Souls.
Ye Li’s skill with the zither was not unparalleled, and her face showed no trace of sorrow. Yet the music flowing from her fingertips conveyed a clear sense of quiet melancholy and regret—not pain, but regret. Regret for not having done better, and deeper regret for the loss of so many valiant warriors who had perished in such a manner.
Suddenly, the melody shifted, growing more intense. Each pluck of the strings seemed to resonate in the hearts of all who listened, stirring memories of days gone by—the pride and joy of joining the Qilin, the grueling training, the bonds forged in life-and-death struggles, and the valor of charging into battle together.
“A man should know the weight of his country’s grace; to die on the battlefield is a noble fate!” someone roared solemnly. “Brothers… fare thee well!”
“A toast!” Everyone raised their jars of wine toward the rows of graves before them and drank deeply. Tears mingled with wine as they spilled onto the earth, soaking the ground where countless heroes now rested. Brothers… go in peace… take care on your journey!
As the final notes faded, Ye Li stood and placed the ebony zither on the ground beside her. Gazing at the tear-streaked faces of the soldiers, she spoke firmly, “Li Yu!”
A middle-aged commander stepped forward and bowed. “Your subordinate is here!”
Ye Li looked at him and declared, “From this moment onward, you are the deputy commander of the Qilin. By my order, you are to lead the Qilin back for reorganization and recovery. Once all injuries have healed, return immediately to Li Cheng. Within a year, I expect to see the Qilin restored to its full strength. Can you… accomplish this?”
Li Yu was momentarily stunned. Meeting Ye Li’s resolute and clear gaze, he quickly responded in a strong voice, “Your subordinate accepts the command! I swear that within a year… I will restore the Qilin to its full strength for the Wang Fei!” This order had truly taken Li Yu by surprise. The position of deputy commander of the Qilin was one of immense importance and rank. Even Xu Qingfeng, the third son of the Xu Family, who had served in the Qilin for years—whose abilities and ferocity in battle were unquestionably first-rate, and who was also the cousin of Princess Ding—had only risen to the rank of one of the twelve squad leaders. For the Wang Fei to promote him to deputy commander now…
As if reading his thoughts, Ye Li said calmly, “Those who have fallen were your brothers. I want you to personally fill the gaps they have left behind.”
“Your subordinate accepts the command!” Li Yu replied loudly, his voice now tinged with fervor. Ye Li nodded. “Everyone’s injuries are still healing. Return early and rest.”
“Yes, we take our leave!” Li Yu bowed and turned, leading over a hundred Qilin soldiers back to Flying Goose Pass."Wang Fei, it's time for us to return," Zhuo Jing said softly. Ye Li shook her head, replying, "I'd like to stay a little longer." She settled back onto the ground, placing the ebony qin across her knees and plucking its strings absentmindedly. There was no particular melody, just intermittent notes that started and stopped at random, adding to the melancholy atmosphere of the desolate white graveyard.
Not far from the Qilin's graves, on a slightly elevated ground, Mo Xiuyao stood shoulder to shoulder with Han Mingyue. From their vantage point, they could clearly see the composed face of the plainly dressed woman seated among the white tombstones. Han Mingyue glanced at the snow-haired Mo Xiuyao beside him and remarked, "If you're worried, why not go over and see her?"
Mo Xiuyao shot him a sidelong glance and replied indifferently, "This prince knows his limits."
Han Mingyue smiled faintly but said nothing more. At this point, he couldn't help but envy Mo Xiuyao's impeccable judgment. Rationally speaking, the recent events weren't Mo Xiuyao's fault, but emotionally, anyone would have wanted to slap him. Yet Ye Li hadn't uttered a single word of blame toward Mo Xiuyao throughout. Whether it was genuine understanding or unconditional acceptance of everything about him, it was an immense blessing for Mo Xiuyao. Similarly, it was likely because of someone like Ye Li that Mo Xiuyao hadn't become even more extreme.
Over the years, though their paths hadn't crossed much, Han Mingyue had kept a close watch on Mo Xiuyao. After all, apart from his only younger brother, Mo Xiuyao was someone Han Mingyue valued deeply. Several times during these years, Han Mingyue had sensed Mo Xiuyao teetering on the edge of losing control, yet each time, he managed to pull back at the last moment. Clearly, all of this was undeniably connected to Ye Li.
Take last night, for instance. The moment Leng Huai brought up the matter of the Western Liang prisoners, Han Mingyue had distinctly felt Mo Xiuyao's murderous intent. Yet, in an instant, it was perfectly restrained. Mo Xiuyao then calmly instructed Leng Huai on how to handle the captives, as if Prince Ding truly possessed such boundless mercy and magnanimity. As if heaven knew, Mo Xiuyao had never been one to show kindness to his enemies. And at that moment, the only person present who could influence Mo Xiuyao's emotions was Ye Li. It was then that Han Mingyue somewhat understood why Feng Zhiyao was so anxious about the relationship between Mo Xiuyao and Ye Li. If Mo Xiuyao were a peerless sword with an unbridled edge, then Ye Li was its scabbard. If Mo Xiuyao were a rare thousand-mile steed, then Ye Li was the bridle that could rein him in. The two were inseparable, each indispensable to the other.
Han Mingyue lowered his head and chuckled quietly. "Xiu Yao, you're past the age for willfulness." Others' tolerance isn't meant for you to squander at will. At the very least... you should offer a toast at the graves of the Qilin soldiers. These were troops personally trained by Princess Ding... a completely different kind of soldier from what we've known. I've always felt that Wang Fei held a special regard for the Qilin. This time, half of them were sacrificed for your plan. If someone were to destroy half of Prince Ding's Estate in one go, would you be pleased?"
Mo Xiuyao remained silent for a long while before suddenly uttering in a deep voice, "I detest the Qilin!"Han Mingyue was taken aback, pausing in thought before he couldn't help but laugh. "Do you dislike the Qilin, or do you dislike Wang Fei being particularly fond of others or other things? Wang Fei is different from other women—you should have realized that long ago. Go on... Don't say you dislike the Qilin. They are the finest and most admirable warriors. Don't tell me you don't feel regret for them."
As Prince Ding, Mo Xiuyao was undoubtedly one of the most renowned swordsmen of his time. Naturally, he was inclined to admire all elite soldiers—how could he not appreciate the Qilin, the elite among elites? To be honest, Mo Xiuyao had previously underestimated the Qilin's combat prowess. He hadn't even considered that Ye Li would deploy them to defend Flying Goose Pass. After all, compared to an army of hundreds of thousands, a force of just over a thousand, no matter how elite, seemed insignificant. Initially, Mo Xiuyao had prepared for the worst—the complete annihilation of Flying Goose Pass. Yet, it was this very force, which he hadn't factored into his plans, that ended up saving the entire pass.
After another long silence, Mo Xiuyao finally turned and walked toward Ye Li.
"Xiu Yao," Han Mingyue suddenly called from behind.
Mo Xiuyao turned back, raising an eyebrow in question. Han Mingyue said, "We're still brothers, aren't we?"
Mo Xiuyao gave a slight nod before swiftly moving toward Ye Li.
Watching the hurried figure disappear, Han Mingyue couldn't help but chuckle softly. Who could have imagined that Mo Xiuyao—once the dream of countless maidens, carefree and seemingly untroubled by any tender emotions—would now be in such a rush? Thinking of himself, Young Master Mingyue lifted his gaze to the horizon, a serene and relieved smile gracing his elegant lips.
Mo Xiuyao landed lightly behind Ye Li without making a sound. Qin Feng and the others glanced at him before silently withdrawing. Mo Xiuyao watched Ye Li sitting on the ground, then quietly approached and sat down beside her.
"Xiu Yao?" Ye Li stopped playing the qin and asked in confusion, "Didn't Feng San and the others have matters to discuss with you? Why are you here?" Mo Xiuyao smiled faintly. "The battle is over. No matter how urgent the matter, it can wait, can't it?"
Ye Li nodded with a smile. Apart from Murong Shen and Marquis Nan still leading the Chu forces against Western Liang in the south, the Mo Family Army's territory was now peaceful. After a moment of thought, she said, "The arrangements for the families of the fallen and severely wounded soldiers..."
Mo Xiuyao took her slightly cold hands into his own and said, "Leave such matters to Qingchen Gongzi. A Li, don't worry. I promise every fallen soldier will be properly honored. The same goes for the Qilin."
Ye Li nodded with a gentle smile. She wasn't concerned about the Qilin—they already had a well-established system in place, including compensation for casualties and severe injuries. With their small numbers, it was simply a matter of following protocol. However, the other troops under the Mo Family Army often suffered casualties in the thousands or tens of thousands, making proper arrangements far more challenging.Noticing Ye Li's concern, Mo Xiuyao firmly assured her, "I will instruct all the generals to properly handle the aftermath arrangements for their soldiers." Seeing how solemnly he made this promise, Ye Li couldn't help but smile gently. "I naturally trust you. There's no need to be so serious. I was just making casual remarks."
Mo Xiuyao smiled faintly without responding. A Li's heart was too soft, and she thought too much. But he knew she considered these matters not out of so-called kindness or noble virtues, but because she believed it was simply the right thing to do. Many of Ye Li's ideas were actually incompatible with the people of this era. For instance, she believed men should respect women, soldiers should protect civilians, and the nation should care for those who sacrificed themselves in war—not that her views were wrong, but they seemed absurd and nearly impossible to achieve for the people of this time. Yet, perhaps it was precisely this uniqueness in A Li that he loved. Mo Xiuyao knew of her extraordinary experiences and even felt she must have lived a happier and more fulfilling life in her previous world. That was why he wanted to give her the entire world, to make her even happier than before.
Mo Xiuyao took the ebony qin from Ye Li's hands, placed it on his lap, and began to pluck the strings softly. His skill with the qin was actually far superior to Ye Li's. It was the same "Requiem," but under his fingers, it carried a more stirring and soul-shaking sense of desolation. Ye Li listened in a daze until tears finally spilled from her eyes.
When the piece ended, Mo Xiuyao set the qin aside and pulled her into his embrace. "Cry, A Li... I'm sorry, it's all my fault..." Leaning against him, Ye Li finally let her sobs escape.
Mo Xiuyao gently patted her back, his half-lidded eyes filled with tenderness and heartache.
The moment they returned to the general's residence, they were greeted by the nearly frantic Third Master Feng. Seeing the two arrive hand in hand, Feng Zhiyao charged over without hesitation, grabbing Mo Xiuyao by the collar and shouting, "Prince Ding! Where in the world have you been?! Do you even care about Prince Ding's Estate anymore? What about all those documents piling up in your study—are you going to deal with them or not? More importantly, you were the one who summoned us to discuss important matters, yet you vanished without a trace! What exactly do you want?!" Feng San, driven to his limit, no longer cared about propriety or rank as he roared at Mo Xiuyao.
Feng Zhiyao's sudden outburst genuinely startled both Ye Li and Mo Xiuyao. Mo Xiuyao quickly regained his composure and calmly pried Feng San's hand from his collar. "Feng San, whatever it is, speak slowly."
Feng Zhiyao scoffed. "Speak slowly? I'd love to, if only I could find you! Right after the battle, with so much left unsettled, all of us dropped our tasks to heed Prince Ding's summons—only to find you nowhere in sight!"
Hearing this, Ye Li couldn't help but feel guilty. After all, Mo Xiuyao had run off so recklessly to find her. She stepped forward and said softly to Feng Zhiyao, "Feng San, about today..."Feng Zhiyao raised his hand and said, "Wang Fei, there's no need to speak on his behalf. Besides... we wouldn't dare blame Prince Ding, would we? It's just idle grumbling. Let His Highness punish me as he sees fit." It was no wonder Feng Zhiyao was frustrated. The war had just ended, and it wasn't just Flying Goose Pass that was busy—everywhere outside it was in chaos after nearly a year of conflict. Everyone was busier than before the war ended. Yet the one who should have been busiest was nowhere to be found. Not only was Mo Xiuyao missing, but even Han Mingyue, who usually helped out, had disappeared. Feng Zhiyao had been stewing in the empty study, surrounded by piles of documents, before finally venting his frustration.
Everyone present, except Ye Li and Mo Xiuyao, looked at Feng Zhiyao with admiration, as if he were a hero. To dare shout at Prince Ding in public—he truly had nerves of steel.
Unexpectedly, Mo Xiuyao was in an uncharacteristically good mood and chuckled, "Alright, I understand. I promise to handle everything by tomorrow morning."
Feng Zhiyao raised an eyebrow. "Tomorrow morning?"
"Any objections?" Mo Xiuyao asked.
"None," Feng Zhiyao quickly shook his head. As long as Prince Ding was willing to work, his efficiency was remarkable. How could Feng Zhiyao possibly object?
The group entered the study and sat down. After catching his breath, Feng Zhiyao asked, "Your Highness, what did you summon us for this morning?" His earlier outburst had been impulsive, but now, after calming down with a cup of tea, he spoke to Mo Xiuyao with much more courtesy. Mo Xiuyao sat down with Ye Li and smiled. "Nothing much. I just wanted to discuss the arrangements for the wounded and fallen soldiers."
At this, Feng Zhiyao's expression turned serious. He pulled out a document from the stacks beside him and said gravely, "After nearly a year of war, the exact numbers haven't been tallied yet. But the casualties at Flying Goose Pass are already clear. Originally, the pass was garrisoned by 237,600 soldiers, including the Qilin troops. Only 13,127 survived. Among them, 19 officers above the rank of captain and seven lieutenant generals perished."
The staggering losses left even Mo Xiuyao speechless for a long moment. In all these years, such devastating casualties had only been seen once before—during the Mo Family Army's tragedy at Huifeng Valley over a decade ago. This was the first time since then that the army had been nearly crippled. Moreover, the troops stationed at Flying Goose Pass were the Mo Family Army's elite, not the newly recruited soldiers from Chu. If a single battle had been this brutal, the casualties over the past year must have been even worse. Rough estimates suggested that since lifting the siege of Chu Jing, the Mo Family Army had lost at least 600,000 to 700,000 of its elite troops. From an original force of under a million, only about 20 to 30 percent remained. The rest were remnants of the defeated Chu army, the tens of thousands of Chu soldiers Mo Xiuyao had recently recruited, and fresh recruits from the northwest.
This war couldn't be called a mutual defeat, but all parties involved had paid a heavy price. No wonder Mo Xiuyao no longer planned to continue attacking Chu and Western Liang.Looking at the staggering numbers before them, the three fell into silence. The atmosphere grew heavy as Mo Xiuyao pondered for a moment before speaking, "Feng San, have someone relay my orders. The compensation for all fallen soldiers must be distributed without exception. As for the wounded, they must also be properly cared for. If there are any issues, they can come directly to me."
Feng Zhiyao hesitated briefly but ultimately nodded. Providing for so many fallen and injured soldiers was undoubtedly a massive undertaking for Prince Ding's Estate. Yet this was their duty—the only thing they could do. Let the dead rest in peace.
Ye Li said, "All the silver obtained from exchanging prisoners with Western Liang can be used for this. If it's still not enough, you can ask Han Mingxi for more. Just let me know afterward." Feng Zhiyao quickly thanked Ye Li, while Mo Xiuyao pondered for a moment before raising an eyebrow and saying, "A Li, don’t worry. Soon we’ll have other sources of income."
"Other sources of income?" Ye Li raised an eyebrow.
Mo Xiuyao smirked coldly. "Of course. There’s also the reparations from Northern Rong, Western Liang, and Great Chu."
War isn’t something to be taken lightly. Winning doesn’t necessarily mean peace and security, but losing certainly brings disaster. Since ancient times, the defeated have either submitted as vassals or paid reparations—this is practically tradition. Mo Xiuyao had no interest in vassalage. Since it wouldn’t be sincere, there was no point in putting on a show. But reparations were non-negotiable.
Hearing this, Feng Zhiyao clapped his hands and laughed. "Wang Ye is right. I’d actually forgotten about that."
--- Off-topic Note ---
Recently, I’ve been staying at a relative’s place with no internet access and little free time, so I haven’t been able to reply to comments. But I’ve read them all—thank you for your support, dear readers! The story is almost finished here, but after seeing a comment from one reader yesterday, Feng is considering whether to split it into another volume. Naming the final volume something like "The Cracks in Peace" doesn’t seem ideal. But whether it’s split or not won’t affect the length much—it’s just a few chapters left anyway. The main issue is that I’ve been too busy lately. If I could wrap it up in one massive final chapter like some authors do, it would’ve been done already. Sigh… I’m guilty. I shouldn’t have visited relatives at a time like this…
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