On this day, the entire Yanbei was shrouded in a raging snowstorm. A once-in-a-century blizzard, like a madman gone berserk, whirled and howled across the wilderness. The snow piled over three feet deep, striking the face like tiny stones, sharp and painful. The warhorses, though wrapped in leather over their bellies and eyes, still nervously glanced around. The soldiers, clad in fur coats and windproof hoods, struggled to keep their eyes open against the gale, trudging laboriously across the snow-covered plains.
When they reached the Jasmine River, Chu Qiao suddenly ordered the entire army to halt. Minister Sun hurried forward to inquire but was met only with her cold, turned back. The young female general stood atop a wind-sheltered snow slope, gazing into the distant expanse of white. Far away, birds scattered in panic, and snow mist swirled. She remained there, silent and unmoving for a long time.
As she descended, Minister Sun angrily shoved aside the soldier who tried to restrain him and stepped forward, fuming. "Lady Chu, what are you doing? The military situation is urgent, with His Majesty's life hanging by a thread, and you have the leisure to admire the scenery?"
Chu Qiao's gaze swept over him lightly, like icicles in the depths of winter, piercing coldly into the most fragile unease in one's heart.
The girl was still young, yet for some reason, everyone who knew her would unconsciously overlook her age in her presence, trembling with uncontrollable fear. Despite the bitter cold, sweat slowly beaded on Minister Sun's forehead. Just as he sensed something amiss, Chu Qiao ordered, "Tie him up."
Without a moment's hesitation, the soldiers of the Xiuli Army swiftly stepped forward and bound Minister Sun securely. The young officer struggled and shouted, "What are you doing? Lady Chu, are you rebelling?"
Chu Qiao watched him coldly, her sharp gaze piercing through his feigned shock and anger, effortlessly discerning the underlying panic and worry. Her heart grew gradually colder, like water flowing beneath a layer of ice, chilling and grim.
"He Xiao, bring out all the explosives we have and blow up the Jasmine River. Leave three hundred men to hold the position. If even a single person crosses from the opposite side by tomorrow morning, do not bother returning to see me."
"Yes!" He Xiao replied coldly.
Chu Qiao climbed onto her horse and said to her subordinates, "Let's go."
"Lady Chu! Do you even know what you're doing?"
Chu Qiao slowly turned her head and cast a cold glance at Minister Sun, replying calmly, "Of course, I know."
"You're preventing our men from rescuing His Majesty! This is treason!"
Chu Qiao smiled faintly, a trace of mockery in her expression. "Minister Sun, are you all too naive, or do you truly think I, Chu Qiao, am that foolish? You claim to be the only one who escaped from Yuegong City, so why are there five armies chasing us from behind? I happened to be returning to Shangshen and set out a day early to make it here in time. Then how did the Black Hawk Army from the main camp arrive so quickly? You say Zhuge Yue led fifty thousand troops to stealthily attack Yuegong's supplies and besiege His Majesty. Then tell me, why would His Majesty, at the year's end, not stay safely in the main camp but travel thousands of miles here instead?"Sun Cai was rendered speechless by the questioning, his eyes wide as he remained silent. Chu Qiao let out a cold laugh, her gaze growing even more frigid as she said in a sinister tone, "Minister Sun, if I have wronged you today, then I will surely kneel and apologize to you before everyone on another day. But if you have deliberately deceived me, watch your head."
"Move out!"
The army swept past, hooves pounding on the snowy plains like rumbling war drums. Soon, thunderous roars echoed from behind. Though the explosives were crudely made, a sufficient quantity gathered together was enough to shatter the ice layers. The Jasmine River, a tributary of the Chishui River, was deep and turbulent, and it would take a full day and night to freeze solid. With three hundred archers stationed there, the Black Hawk Army would not easily cross the river. No matter what lay ahead, they had to go and see for themselves.
Chu Qiao made up her mind, narrowing her eyes slightly, her gaze as sharp as a leopard spotting its prey.
"My lady!" He Xiao spurred his horse forward, riding alongside Chu Qiao. Years of shared hardships had made them not just master and servant but close comrades. The handsome general asked in a low voice, "What has happened ahead?"
The cold wind howled, sweeping fiercely between them, snowflakes stinging their faces. After a long silence, Chu Qiao finally replied gravely, "Perhaps Cheng Yuan has rebelled."
He Xiao thought it over, connecting the events, and found it indeed plausible. He cursed aloud, "I always knew that bastard was no good!"
Chu Qiao said nothing. Her eyes fixed straight ahead, she cracked her whip fiercely, urging her horse onward. She hoped, she prayed, that her speculation was correct, for she dreaded to consider the alternative.
It couldn't be. It just couldn't be.
Yan Xun... surely he would not betray me like this.
"Hyah!"
Chu Qiao shouted sharply, suppressing her deep worries as her horse galloped wildly across the vast snowy plains like a dark storm. The sun was gradually obscured by gloomy clouds, casting the world into a gray, twilight-like haze.
—
Zhuge Yue's appearance was utterly unexpected. According to the original plan, luring Chu Qiao forward, sending troops in pursuit, and Yuegong City's active mobilization of soldiers were all mere illusions to deceive Zhuge Yue. The ultimate goal was to draw him out of the Mingxi Valley and ambush him with twenty thousand archers at the valley's entrance. The battle was supposed to end there, never reaching Yanbei's heartland, let alone affecting a crucial city like Yuegong.
Thus, when Zhuge Yue suddenly appeared in Yuegong City, the entire city's first reaction was panic—precisely because Yan Xun had taken Yuegong's remaining forces to set an ambush at the Mingxi Valley's entrance.
In the end, Yuegong City was set ablaze by Zhuge Yue. By the time Yan Xun received the news and rushed back, Zhuge Yue, clad in a green fur coat, stood on the Xiema Slope just an arrow's flight outside the city. In plain view of Yan Xun, he personally shot a flaming arrow onto the high city gate. Upon this signal, three hundred flaming arrows were launched simultaneously, striking Yuegong City, which had been doused with tung oil. Heaven itself aided Zhuge Yue—amid the raging winds, not only the city's grain supplies but the entire city was reduced to scorched earth in the inferno.Yan Xun’s twenty-thousand-strong army watched with burning eyes. Half of them were local officers from Yuegong. Seeing their homes destroyed and their parents, wives, and children’s fates unknown, they were overcome with grief and rage. Without waiting for Yan Xun’s orders, they surged forward with furious roars. The battle erupted abruptly—no formation, no ranks, just frenzied slaughter. Driven by the anguish of a grieving army, the Yanbei warriors moved with astonishing speed, like a pack of roaring, starving wolves. Yet before they could close in, three hundred Moon Guards’ sharp arrows pierced their chests. The arrows descended like a storm tearing through the sky, whistling as they came—no flesh and blood could withstand such force. In roughly the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, not a single living soul remained standing between the two armies.
The northern wind swept across the blood-soaked battlefield, its howling gusts seeming to carry the ragged breaths of the dying. Yan Xun stood on the other side. When the Yuegong garrison charged, he had not stopped them—in truth, there had been no time to stop them. So he had watched as these ten thousand defenders fell beneath the hail of arrows, like a patch of autumn grass left untended. At this moment, Yan Xun’s personal guards stood behind him, a dark and silent forest, still ten thousand strong, motionless and quiet, indifferent to the deaths of their comrades.
This was the first meeting between Yan Xun and Zhuge Yue since Biantang. Though the war had raged for a full year, with countless skirmishes and even an assault by Zhuge Yue on Yan Xun’s command tent, they had never crossed paths until now. Their gazes met silently in midair like lightning—no sharp sparks, everything like submerged reefs beneath dark currents, colliding quietly, soundlessly, yet with immense weight. The surface of the water churned slightly, but beneath lay turbulent undercurrents. Outsiders could not perceive the sharpness and edge hidden within; only those who understood the depths could grasp how awe-inspiring this confrontation was.
From their youth outside Zhenhuang City to their repeated clashes as adults, these two men, equally brilliant and commanding vast influence, stood diametrically opposed in their allegiances to power. In military prowess, they were matched, their methods breathtaking. In political rivalry, they were sworn enemies, irreconcilable. And by a twist of fate, they had fallen in love with the same woman. Such destiny and circumstance meant they could never sit down peacefully to appreciate each other’s strengths and talents. Whenever they clashed, it was with scalding blood, a fight to determine victory or defeat, a struggle to the death.When Zhuge Yue saw Yan Xun, his long-suspended heart finally settled. Just after emerging from Mingxi Valley, he knew he had been deceived. The only question was whether this scheme was solely Yan Xun’s doing or if Chu Qiao had participated as well. Had Yan Xun infiltrated the Southwest Garrison Commander, or had Chu Qiao personally revealed her whereabouts? On the battlefield, life and death changed unpredictably in an instant. At such a critical juncture, these matters might have become trivial to others, but for him, they were impossible to dismiss. He could confidently believe that Chu Qiao was not that kind of person, and he could confidently feel that he was not just an insignificant passerby in her heart. Yet, he could not measure Yan Xun’s place in her heart, nor could he assess whose side her worried eyes would turn to when his interests clashed with Yan Xun’s.
Zhuge Yue gave a self-mocking, cold smile. Even if she wouldn’t betray Yan Xun for him, she also wouldn’t kill him for Yan Xun’s sake. Perhaps that was enough.
When Yan Xun saw Zhuge Yue, he was far from as composed as Zhuge Yue. Disgust and hatred sprouted and climbed within him like vines. It was this very person before him who had cost him his first chance to escape Zhenhuang, subjecting him to eight years of imprisonment worse than that of pigs or dogs. While Yan Xun groveled on the ground, surviving like a lowly creature, Zhuge Yue enjoyed the glory of the empire’s noble clans, living in luxury with fine clothes and spirited horses. While Yan Xun endured humiliation and suffered bullying from others, Zhuge Yue watched indifferently, turning a cold eye. When Yan Xun’s family was destroyed and reduced to dust, Zhuge Yue’s family rose abruptly, stepping over bones and bloodshed to become the new voice of the empire. And just when Yan Xun had painstakingly built his towering foundation, it was Zhuge Yue who personally shattered his myth of invincibility, dealing him a heavy blow.
And then, there was A Chu…
At this thought, the flames in Yan Xun’s heart blazed fiercely. The long-suppressed resentment and fury erupted like a volcano, uncontrollable.
It was nearing evening, with the setting sun dipping below the horizon. To the east, faint black outlines were vaguely visible—the warhorses of Yanbei. Even across vast distances, one could sense the breath of those horses in the air. Dust swirled, indicating a force of thirty to forty thousand.
Zhuge Yue stood motionless, and Yan Xun remained silent. With war before them, insults and curses would seem childish. A soldier from Yan Xun’s ranks galloped out of the formation, approaching Zhuge Yue’s troops, and shouted, “Hold your arrows!”
The Moon Guards stood silently, their indifferent eyes fixed on the bold soldier. The soldier nervously licked his lips and launched into a lengthy pre-battle speech, its content utterly clichéd—nothing more than claims of Daxia’s cruelty and tyranny, Yanbei’s righteous cause, accusations of trespassing and provocation, vows of no compromise, and boasts of reinforcements nearby. He urged them to lay down their weapons, kneel, and beg for mercy if they wanted a chance to survive.
The soldier advocating surrender spoke until his mouth was dry, his words righteous and stern. Yet, he received no response from the other side. When he finished, Zhuge Yue gently waved his hand and said emotionlessly, “Kill him.”Instantly, a volley of arrows rained down, piercing the heroic orator like a honeycomb. His body stiffened and collapsed, yet his feet remained trapped in the stirrups. The startled warhorse bolted backward, dragging the man along, leaving a trail of blood staining the ground.
The Yanbei soldiers finally erupted in fury. Angry roars filled the air as tens of thousands drew their blades in unison. The gleaming edges of their swords resembled a savage ocean, momentarily blinding all who witnessed it.
The men exchanged glances, their gazes traversing ancient time. At last, the battle horn thundered, and dust the color of earth enveloped the massive army. A rallying cry echoed, and warhorses surged forward. A forest of spears and a sea of blades charged ruthlessly toward the enemy. The war erupted abruptly, without the slightest warning.
As the sun set in the west and darkness crept in, Zhuge Yue’s cavalry, though few in number, moved like a sharp sword. Their crossbows were unparalleled, each arrow finding its mark. They could shoot while charging and swiftly follow up with a blade strike. Every one of them was a master of martial arts—not a single ordinary soldier among them. Three hundred strong, they cut through enemy lines as if traversing flat ground, undaunted by the opposing numbers.
Yan Xun’s troops, meanwhile, were elite forces handpicked from hundreds. They were numerous, fully armored, and each a seasoned veteran of the battlefield—experienced and brimming with overwhelming momentum.
From the very outset, the battle revealed its terrifying brutality. Blood sprayed, severed limbs flew, and warhorses collided head-on, their hooves tangling mid-air. The massive formations advanced like an unstoppable avalanche or tidal wave, shaking onlookers to the core, sending chills down their spines and making their scalps tingle.
————Dividing Line————
Heading out for a meal, updating this much for now. The second update will be around 10 p.m.
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