The sky was a heavy, oppressive black, clouds hanging so low they seemed to press against one's forehead. Snowflakes, like gray goose feathers, swirled fiercely in the biting wind. Inside a crude tent made of coarse cloth and felt, Yan Xun sat quietly. The torches crackled weakly, and the soldiers grew increasingly restless, their eyes filled with unease. Warhorses let out irritating whinnies, pawing the ground anxiously. The air was thick with tension, saturated with fear and dread.
A full half-hour had passed. With ten thousand troops pitted against a beleaguered force of fewer than three hundred, the disparity was anything but normal warfare. Even if Zhuge Yue were exceptionally brilliant, he should not have held out this long. The Moon Guards had long exhausted their arrows, their blades were chipped and dulled, and many were severely wounded. The cavalry's horses had all been shot dead, stripping them of their mobility. Now, they huddled together, back-to-back, fending off tens of thousands with spears and swords.
The Yanbei Army had encircled them completely. The close-quarters combat was brutally intense. On the blood-soaked snowy plain, the vanguard of the Yanbei Army clashed head-on with Zhuge Yue's men. Like two crashing waves, they met with gleaming blades, and in the chaos of the charge, great sprays of blood erupted, splattering like scalding magma onto the muddy, snow-covered earth.
The wind howled, battle cries shook the heavens, and the screams of dying warriors mingled with the frantic neighing of horses. The scene resembled a boiling cauldron—no strategy or tactics mattered anymore. In such a desperate clash, victory favored the bold, and everyone fought like madmen, eyes bloodshot as they swung their weapons. Severed limbs, spurting blood, and decapitated heads fell like rows of autumn grass. Killers were instantly slain, and the dying still clung to their enemies' legs, buying precious seconds for their comrades. The brutality of the fight was beyond imagination.
Though the Yanbei Army held the numerical advantage, they could not break the Moon Guards' tightly knit formation. As outer defenders fell, those within immediately surged forward. They stood wavering, blades in hand, appearing on the verge of collapse with each successive assault, yet they stubbornly held their ground—unyielding, like an unshakable stubborn stain. Even in defeat, they refused to scatter. Alone, surrounded by fallen comrades, they fought on individually, relentless to the last. Even covered in gore, limbs severed, with only a breath left, they would endure a blow to tear a chunk of flesh from their foes!
These men had followed Zhuge Yue since childhood. As the eldest son of the Zhuge family, he had been assigned dozens of martial arts masters from the age of four, along with five hundred personal death guards—the Moon Guards. For over a decade, they had followed him through countless battles across the lands, never flinching or showing cowardice. Today, before the Yanbei Army, they demonstrated once more the fierce loyalty of those so-called "pampered, weak noble sons" of the empire.
Nie Gu, Yan Xun's newly appointed guard captain, raised his blade and roared, "Kill! Slaughter them all!"Yue Jiu, drenched in blood, drove his sword through the throat of a Yanbei soldier, his face stripped of the calm composure befitting a master. Wiping the blood from his face, he shouted, "Brothers! Cut a path through!"
Corpses and blades lay everywhere, so many that there was no solid ground to stand on. As they swung their swords, the warriors kicked aside the bodies obstructing their steps. The cacophony of battle cries and screams was deafening, the earth churned into a gruesome paste of blood and flesh.
A Yanbei soldier hacked off the leg of a young Moon Guard, but instead of crying out, the guard thrust his blade through the Yanbei soldier's chest. As he fell, the Yanbei warrior desperately clung to the guard's waist. The two grievously wounded men rolled on the ground, tearing at each other like wild dogs, as if bound by some terrible vendetta. Before they could kill one another, a dozen warhorses charged over them. The riders above continued their fierce struggle, while the two below had their skulls crushed under the hooves, brains splattering across the horses' fetlocks. Locked in a final embrace, they died together, appearing as intimate friends.
The battlefield swirled around the three hundred Moon Guards like a crimson vortex, formations shattered on both sides. The Yanbei Army outside could not break through, circling the periphery on horseback, roaring and occasionally charging forward to replace fallen comrades. Just then, a breach opened in the northwest corner of the Moon Guards' defense. Nie Gu let out a triumphant cry, and his warriors raised their bloodied sabers, following him with feral howls.
"Protect the General!"
Yue Jiu's voice was sharp, his young face smeared crimson beyond recognition. The Moon Guards' eyes burned with fury as they turned to charge, only to be entangled by the enemies surrounding them.
Nie Gu shouted, "Charge! Kill that Zhuge dog!"
"Swish—!"
As the words left his lips, a flash of white blade light shot forth. A thin red line appeared across Nie Gu's neck, and in the next instant, the young guard captain's head soared into the air. His body stiffened and collapsed with a thud into the blood-soaked ground.
Zhuge Yue stood with his blade, his cyan fur cloak accentuating his jade-like complexion, crimson lips, and prominent nose bridge. His deep, piercing eyes surveyed the ravaged battlefield, a single drop of blood tracing a path down his temple, winding along the contour of his cheek. Behind him lay tens of thousands of fallen corpses; beyond, the ancient city smoldered with black smoke; and further still, the war-torn lands of Yanbei and the scarred territories of Daxia stretched out.
War raged, the people wailed, Ximeng trembled, and the very heavens and earth seemed to bleed. Standing amidst the gruesome bloodbath, drenched in slaughter, he remained as proud and unyielding as a towering snow-capped mountain.
"General!"
"Well done!"
Thunderous cheers followed. Zhuge Yue stood at the heart of the carnage, his voice clear as a ringing bell, shouting, "Not a single one of you dies! All of you, follow me and charge!"
"As you command!"
The warriors roared in unison. Zhuge Yue surged to the forefront, leading the charge himself. His movements were a dazzling blur, his blade swirling with snow like rolling white waves. Wherever he passed, men and horses fell in disarray, leaving chaos in his wake.The remaining hundred or so Moon Guards, their morale soaring, unleashed deafening battle cries. The Yanbei Army, once invincible across Yanbei, found themselves faltering under this frenzied momentum, and the battle quickly reached a stalemate. Officers in the rear cursed furiously, but no matter how they raged, the high ground piled with corpses remained unconquered. No matter how many troops they threw into the fray, that handful of men, seemingly as fragile as leaves in the rain, fought on like undying machines, their blades never ceasing.
Yan Xun’s expression remained unchanged, but his eyes narrowed slightly. Zhuge Yue had finally emerged, standing at the forefront of the slaughter. Clad in a green fur cloak and wielding a snow-bright blade, his posture was as agile as a Coiled Dragon. For a fleeting moment, Yan Xun seemed to see a shimmering golden light radiating from him, dazzling and majestic like that of an emperor, too brilliant to behold directly.
A trace of coldness flickered in Yan Xun’s eyes as he spoke in a low, measured tone, "Bring me my bow."
His guard hurriedly fetched Yan Xun’s golden great bow, gleaming and radiant. Dressed in a long black fur robe, Yan Xun’s features had long lost their former clarity and gentleness. Now, he resembled a god of slaughter forged in the fires of a chaotic era, his entire being steeped in blood. His fingers slowly caressed the arrows, four fingers aligned, thumb pressed tight. He nocked the arrow, drew the bow, and bent the crossbow—the threads of fate seemed to twist and reverse in that moment, scenes of the past rushing through his mind. With a surge of strength in his arms, the arrow arched like a cooked shrimp on the bowstring.
A fierce wind howled, sweeping across the raging flames of war and the gradually cooling corpses. Dark clouds churned overhead, snowflakes swirling and drifting in the sky. In the distance, the thunder of approaching hooves grew louder from the rear. Yan Xun’s eyes were cold as frost, his back straight and tall amidst the surrounding army. With absolute dominance and poise, he abruptly released his grip on the arrow!
The gleaming golden arrow shot from the string, speeding fiercely toward that agile figure on the battlefield.
Thousands of eyes froze upon it instantly. Under the hazy noon sun, the arrow of fate flew straight for Zhuge Yue’s chest, like a bloodthirsty, starving wolf.
Zhuge Yue had just cut down a Yanbei soldier, the crimson blood splattering onto the back of his hand like scalding oil. Without even looking, the sound of the arrow piercing through the roaring northern wind reached his ears. His body moved with lightning speed, evading by instinct. The arrow’s sharp edge grazed fiercely along his arm, tearing through thick fabric and taking a patch of skin and flesh. But before he could rise, another arrow was already upon him.
Repeating Crossbow—the signature skill that had made Chu Qiao of Yanbei famous! He had faced this archery technique of hers many times before, at the state banquet on a snowy night and on the northwestern battlefield, and it was no longer unfamiliar to him. Yet now, wielded by Yan Xun, the arrows carried a different flavor—perhaps less refined, but far more powerful.
Seven arrows in succession, each aimed at a vital spot. Zhuge Yue twisted and turned like a startled dragon, dodging them one by one, until finally, with a jolt, he rose to his feet amidst the storm of arrows. Their eyes met for just a second—a flash as quick as lightning, yet it felt as if they had lived through a lifetime of rivalry and enmity.
In that instant, Zhuge Yue’s body arched like a full moon, his arm swinging in a wide arc as he hurled his blade. The gleaming edge of the sword shot forth like a bolt of white lightning, striking back with thunderous force.A sharp gasp sounded not far behind. The man at whom the blade was pointed curved his lips slightly, revealing an almost imperceptible smile. He did not evade, nor did a trace of panic cross his face. Instead, he picked up the final golden arrow, abruptly drew his bow, and shot it forth with fierce intensity.
For a moment, heaven and earth seemed to fall into a profound silence. Across the vast armies separating them, the two men locked gazes in a silent standoff, mustering their last ounce of strength for a final strike. Neither dodged nor yielded, awaiting destiny’s final judgment on their lives.
“Your Majesty, be careful!”
“General!”
Before the shouts could fully pierce the air, the piercing neigh of a warhorse rang out. A gleaming sword radiance, like a star shining in the dark night, pierced through the dense curtain of snow. It came roaring from behind Yan Xun and, in the very instant Zhuge Yue’s war blade was about to pierce Yan Xun’s heart, struck the back of the blade with startling force!
It was but an ordinary war blade—how could it withstand such a legendary, luminous weapon? Under the clash of two opposing forces, the war blade shattered into pieces. Yet the sword maintained its original momentum, continuing forward. Yan Xun’s sharp arrow had already pierced through Zhuge Yue’s palm and struck his chest. Immediately after, the sword plunged into the tail of the arrow, driving straight down and impaling Zhuge Yue’s chest. Blood trickled down, flowing along the slanted blood-groove patterns of the blade until it reached two small ancient seal characters at its base. Amid the crimson, searing heat, the words “Moon Breaker” were faintly visible.
A torrent of blood burst from Zhuge Yue’s mouth. Staggering backward, he struggled to remain standing. The Moon Guards rushed forward, eyes blazing with fury, forming a protective circle around him. Yue Jiu, his eyes red-rimmed, knelt before him, tears streaming down his face. The young swordsman suddenly turned his head, his gaze filled with frenzied hatred and rage, and glared into the distance at the troop of black-armored soldiers amidst the heavy snow.
Chu Qiao sat astride her horse, flanked by two thousand Xiuli Army troops. The thunderous sound of hooves echoed across the snowy plains. Her pupils dilated as she finally discerned the face within the swirling snowstorm. A chill, as if she had been plunged into an icy abyss, seized her limbs, leaving them numb and frozen. It felt as though her heart had been torn out and cast into the bitter cold.
Yan Xun smiled faintly, flicked a snowflake from his lapel, and stepped forward, extending a hand toward Chu Qiao. “You’ve come,” he said gently.
Drenched in blood, the ghastly wound on Zhuge Yue’s chest gaped horrifically. His eyes seemed to swirl with dark, turbulent tides. Once again, reality had brutally shattered his pride and composure. His brows and eyes were sharp with cold detachment as he watched, forcibly suppressing the bloody taste rising in his throat.
Zhuge Yue, how much lower must you debase yourself?
The man let out a low, cold laugh, his voice hoarse and grating like a demon from the underworld. “In the end,” he murmured, “it was only my own wishful thinking.”
His icy gaze fell upon Chu Qiao, and she felt as though she could scarcely breathe. She could not move, could not speak, sitting heavily upon her horse. She no longer saw Yan Xun’s hypocritical, smiling face, no longer saw the mountains of corpses piled high, no longer saw the ancient city of Yuegong billowing with black smoke, no longer saw the raging snowstorm between heaven and earth. All she saw was Zhuge Yue—only him, and the vivid scarlet blood staining his blue fur robe, like a sharp arrow that pierced her eyes and heart, striking directly into her chest and spine.Time seemed to rewind nine years in an instant. Nine years ago, on the snow-covered plains outside Zhenhuang, she had resolutely chosen to stand by Yan Xun's side, gazing with eyes full of hatred at that solitary and aloof child. Now, nine years later, fate once again presented her with the same opportunity, yet she still unhesitatingly turned her sword against him.
The wind and snow remained unchanged, but the people were no longer the same. The world suddenly became vast and boundless, leaving only the roaring wind that swept up swirling snowflakes, scattering them over the face that had grown familiar in dreams.
Her fingers curled tightly into fists, nails digging deep into her palms, yet she felt no pain.
Yue Jiu's eyes were bloodshot as he recognized her face, furiously cursing, "You heartless woman! Our young master came to save you, yet you strike with such cruelty. From this day forward, as long as a single Moon Guard remains, we swear to make you pay for what you've done today!"
"Empty boasts," Yan Xun's gaze drifted over coldly, his tone detached as he commanded, "Go, crush them."
"Yes!"
The imperial guards responded in unison, turning to charge forward. Just then, a thunderous rumble erupted from beneath the snowy plains as over a thousand warhorses came galloping. The riders wore varied attire—merchants, herdsmen, street vendors, scholarly gentlemen, even officials in Yanbei government robes. They charged forth wildly, brandishing assorted weapons, quickly gathering behind Zhuge Yue.
"Young master!"
A man in his forties rushed forward, clad in the official robes of a fifth-rank Yanbei civil official yet wielding a heavy-backed broadsword. Dismounting with the ferocity of a storm, he shouted while charging, "Yue Da has arrived late! Ah Jiu, protect the young master's retreat! Brothers, follow me into battle!"
As early as nine years ago, after Yanshicheng died on Huolei Plain and Yan Xun was trapped in the capital, the young Zhuge Yue had carefully woven this web. Though he couldn't have predicted today's situation back then, he had discreetly planted agents throughout Yanbei territory, intending to secure an advantage when the great families eventually fought over this prized land. Then Yan Xun returned, Yanbei rebelled, and these people became Zhuge Yue's eyes, ears, and hands in Yanbei. After the previous ambush at Caoqiu, it was only through these agents that he managed to escape safely.
The battle erupted instantly—blood sprayed, war cries deafened, and blade flashes dazzled.
He Xiao cautiously approached and asked in a low voice, "My lady, should we assist His Majesty in battle?"
Chu Qiao stared blankly at the battlefield, countless thoughts swirling through her mind. Zhuge Yue's face, Yan Xun's face—each flashed before her eyes. She didn't know where things had gone wrong, didn't understand what she had done. Weakness washed over her like a tidal wave, nearly drowning her completely. Anger, anguish, regret, bitterness—indescribable emotions surrounded her, blinding her eyes and stifling her breath. She felt utterly exhausted, enough to collapse and sleep, to die right there.
"My lady? My lady?" He Xiao's voice grew increasingly urgent in her ears.
Chu Qiao shuddered, suddenly snapping back to awareness. She drew He Xiao's battle sword in one swift motion, leaped from her horse, and charged forward, shouting, "Everyone, follow me!"The warriors of the Xiuli Army followed closely behind, their fighting spirit boiling like scalding water. Yet just as they were about to charge at the Xia soldiers, Chu Qiao slashed her blade across the chest of a Yanbei soldier. Blood splattered onto her delicate face, but the young woman stood tall and straight, like an unyielding boulder or towering tree.
One, two, a hundred, a thousand—gradually, all the soldiers on the battlefield fell silent. Without a word, Chu Qiao attacked every Yanbei soldier who approached her, as if possessed by madness. Zhuge Yue’s attendants watched her warily, keeping a certain distance. The Yanbei soldiers stared at her in astonishment, not daring to draw near. Even the warriors of the Xiuli Army stood frozen in place, unsure of what to do.
"A Chu, what are you doing?"
Yan Xun stepped forward from behind the crowd, his gaze dark and profound like a deep spring, fixed intently on her. His voice was low and measured as he spoke slowly.
Chu Qiao did not respond. She merely stood there, gripping her war blade, staring fixedly at him—at this man for whom she had poured out all her devotion and loyalty. Suddenly, life felt like a fleeting, illusory dream; she was like a puppet entangled in strings, yet for so long, she had remained oblivious.
A few Yanbei soldiers cautiously attempted to approach her. But before they could get close, Chu Qiao’s blade flashed through the air. In the brilliant arc of the blade, a head soared into the sky. Under the stunned gazes of everyone, the headless corpse thudded onto the snowy ground, twitching like a dying wild dog.
There were no exaggerated or flamboyant moves, no empty shouts or bluffs. With calm composure, she turned her blade against her own comrades. Standing alone on the vast snowy plain, her figure appeared frail and isolated, with no one by her side.
"Chu Qiao! What are you doing?"
Yan Xun’s voice grew even deeper. Seeing this, Yue Da immediately ordered his subordinates to retreat quickly. A cold glint flashed in Yan Xun’s eyes, and the Yanbei soldiers surged forward once more. Chu Qiao moved with swift agility, leaping into position to block their path. The Yanbei soldiers, already bloodthirsty and enraged, saw her attacking her own allies and recklessly charged at her. He Xiao, witnessing this, flew into a rage. He picked up a war blade and roared, "Brothers! Protect the commander!"
The battlefield descended into chaos, with friend and foe indistinguishable. Chu Qiao fought with frenzied determination, her clothes stained with the blood of her own comrades. Her hands trembled violently, yet she did not retreat a single step. The sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance as the unconscious Zhuge Yue was carried away. Dark War Eagles screeched and struggled high in the sky, and the cold wind cut into her skin like sharp blades.
Across the vast plain, bloody corpses littered the earth. The slaughter continued, and the air was thick with a damp, icy despair and deathly stillness.
It was impossible to tell how much time had passed when everything gradually quieted down. Leaning on her blade, she stood firm, the ground beneath her feet stained crimson with blood. Yan Xun stood opposite her, his gaze profound and inscrutable. In that dazed moment, she suddenly felt that the person before her was a complete stranger, as if she had never known him at all. She had nothing to say, nothing to ask. Dragging her exhausted body, she staggered and turned away, wanting only to leave.
"Halt."
A low voice came from behind. Yan Xun stepped forward slowly, and the soldiers retreated like a receding tide. Only He Xiao remained, standing protectively in front of her with his blade drawn, glaring vigilantly at the approaching King of Yanbei.
"Step aside."Yan Xun said coldly to He Xiao, and the young general raised his head, looking at him without the slightest fear, responding to his command with silence.
With a sharp hiss, Yan Xun drew the sword at his waist. Almost simultaneously, Chu Qiao swung her blade forward. Years of tacit understanding allowed her to block his move even without opening her eyes. A burst of fierce sparks instantly flashed between their blades, dazzlingly bright.
Yan Xun sneered coldly, "What? You would draw your blade against me for him too? I thought only Zhuge Yue in this world could make you do such a thing."
Chu Qiao raised her head, her dark eyes fixed on Yan Xun. Gazing at his familiar features and cold lips, she found it impossible to reconcile him with the gentle, handsome youth from her memories. In this moment, Yan Xun finally detached from her recollections and stood before her in the flesh—reality was so brutally vivid. Her years of stubborn devotion crumbled abruptly, like shattered glass scattering into countless fragments beyond repair.
"Yan Xun, you deceived me."
Yan Xun's face showed no trace of guilt as he replied indifferently, "If I hadn't deceived you, how could I have lured him into the trap?"
Even ten thousand arrows piercing her heart couldn't compare to this agony. Chu Qiao smiled bitterly, her eyes dry yet unable to shed tears. Her voice carried an indescribable despair and weariness as she shook her head in bewilderment. "Yan Xun, why have you become like this?"
Her voice trembled like a bird with no branch to perch on—no longer that undefeated general galloping across battlefields, no longer that peerless commander of astounding talent, no longer that sharp and decisive Lady Xiu Li. In this moment, she was merely a deceived woman, her years of heartfelt devotion washing away like flowing water, vanishing without a trace.
Yan Xun's voice deepened. "A Chu, you say I've changed, but haven't you changed as well? When Daxia generals secretly infiltrated Yanbei, such crucial military intelligence—you didn't report it to me. Instead, you turned against me at the critical moment, drawing your sword against me. As the King of Yanbei, what is wrong with me killing a Daxia soldier? If I hadn't anticipated your reaction, why would I go through such elaborate deception? In your heart, are Yanbei and I truly not as good as a single Zhuge Yue?"
Chu Qiao shuddered, staring at him blankly. After a long, long silence, she suddenly let out a hysterical, bitter laugh.
"Yan Xun, if one day Yanbei were to go to war with Song, would you scheme to lure your Huai Song ally here and then kill her?"
Yan Xun was taken aback, frowning. "What are you talking about?"
"Yan Xun, you blame me for not being completely honest with you, but tell me—do you trust me?"
Yan Xun's brow furrowed slightly as he said solemnly, "I sent you back to the Yanbei hinterlands, away from the war, for your own good."
"Slaughtering my comrades and army, forcing me to abandon the cause I've fought for years, driving me away from the center of power, far from the battlefield I carved out with my own hands, suspecting me, distrusting me, surveilling me, using me—is all of this for my own good?"
Chu Qiao's eyes blazed with terrifying intensity. In the howling wind, her voice was like a cold, sharp blade piercing the boundless dark night. A year's worth of pent-up resentment and sorrow surged forth like tidal waves.
"A Chu, you are my woman. Why can't you just stay safely in the rear like other women, waiting for my triumphant return?"
Chu Qiao froze, then suddenly laughed in realization. Her body trembled as she laughed until tears streamed down her face. Pressing a hand to her chest, the bitter taste lingered on her tongue. Shaking her head in dismay, she murmured, "So, this is the kind of woman you want."
The young woman's eyes shone brilliantly, like dazzling stars. She stared fixedly at Yan Xun, her voice low and hoarse, as she asked, "In that case, why did you come for me in the first place?"
"Yan Xun, you can kill Zhuge Yue, but you should not have used me—and certainly not exploited my feelings for him to set up this deception."A heavy disappointment suddenly flashed in Yan Xun's eyes as he said in a low voice, "Cheng Yuan told me long ago that you and Zhuge Yue were deeply connected. Unfortunately, I was always too confident. Today, you've finally admitted it yourself."
Hearing these words, Chu Qiao almost wanted to laugh out loud. Cheng Yuan? He would rather believe that shameless, ungrateful scoundrel than her? She had risked life and limb for him, devoted herself entirely, exhausted all her efforts, followed him faithfully for years—and in the end, she couldn't compare to a sycophant who flattered him all day? She had once thought he was merely temporarily blinded, his judgment clouded by hatred. But now, she was gradually despairing. He had become a complete politician—ideals, beliefs, even his promise to take her back to Yanbei for a good life—none of it could compare to his imperial ambitions. For the sake of his dominance, he could find any convenient excuse, believe any justification that served him, and eliminate anyone standing in his path—even if that person was his mentor, friend, comrade, subordinate, or lover...
There was no point in saying more. Chu Qiao coldly turned her head, about to leave, but Yan Xun grabbed her arm. The man finally shed his cold indifference and imperial dignity, shouting angrily, "What do you really want? Are you going to find him? Have you fallen in love with him?"
Chu Qiao slowly turned back, gazing at Yan Xun's familiar features. Vaguely, she seemed to see again the young man in blue robes by Chishui Lake. She shook her head gently and said softly, "Yan Xun, I don't know if this counts as love. I only know that I care about you, I worry for you, I can't bear to see others hurt you. I take your dreams as my own, I follow in your footsteps, I consider you first in everything I do. When you're happy, I'm joyful; when you're disheartened, I'm sorrowful. I can forgive your mistakes and failures, help you mend any problems you've caused. My greatest dream is to see your wishes fulfilled. I've wandered in a foreign land, with no family or friends—for so many years, you have been the entire meaning of my existence, the most important person in my life."
Hearing this, Yan Xun was visibly moved. His palm grew hot as he tightly gripped Chu Qiao's arm, trembling slightly with emotion.However, Chu Qiao immediately said, "But now I am confused. Is everything I've done truly worth it? Have I ever truly seen you clearly? Yan Xun, you have become a slave to power. Ever since returning to Yanbei, you have been suspicious—suspicious of me, suspicious of Mr. Wu, suspicious of Miss Yu, suspicious of the Southwest Garrison Commander, suspicious of the Great Alliance Society, suspicious of everyone who poses a threat to your authority. I don't believe you are unaware of my loyalty to you, nor do I believe you are unaware of Mr. Wu's support for you. You are simply afraid, believing our existence threatens your position, so you go to great lengths to find excuses to push us aside. Your resentment and your worries are nothing but excuses born of your selfishness, a pretext for your purge. Even if it weren't Zhuge Yue today, it would be someone else. You would always find some fault with me. Yan Xun, I don't blame you for wanting to kill Zhuge Yue; I blame you for your despicable methods. You should not trample on my loyalty to you, trample on the bond between us, and you certainly should not use such underhanded tactics against me."
Chu Qiao mounted her warhorse and, before departing, cast a deep glance at Yan Xun, solemnly declaring, "As you wish, I am going to find him now. This is my final warning to you: if he dies in Yanbei, I will never forgive you for the rest of my life."
A fierce wind howled, whipping up the edges of Chu Qiao's fur cloak. The young woman gave a low shout, and her warhorse surged forward instantly. The soldiers of the Xiuli Army followed behind her, their figures blending with the swirling snow and mist, merging with the blizzard.
Yan Xun stood in place, his expression cold and detached, remaining motionless for a long time like a stone monument.
He felt something inside him suddenly shatter, as if he could faintly hear the sound of breaking. A torrent of unchecked killing intent surged forth, staining his jet-black eyes with a crimson hue.
Someone quietly approached from behind and whispered, "Your Majesty, General Cheng has sent scouts, but they were intercepted by Lady Chu on the opposite bank of the Jasmine River. What should we do now?"
A cold breeze brushed past Yan Xun's robes, and in his daze, he seemed to see the faces of his parents and the opulently dressed nobles of the kingdom before the Nine Nether Altar...
"Notify Cheng Yuan to immediately lead troops around to the foot of Minxi Mountain. They must intercept Zhuge Yue on the frozen lake of the Chishui River."
The person hesitated slightly and asked, "What if Lady Chu arrives as well?"
Yan Xun narrowed his eyes, a blade-like glint flashing within them. After a long pause, he uttered a few icy words in a low, cold voice, "Spare no cost. Zhuge Yue must be killed at all costs."
A War Eagle let out a mournful cry, and under the gloomy sky, a bloodthirsty red glow spread across the horizon.
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