The north wind whipped up a heavy snowfall, thick and swirling, obscuring the pale full moon. The flakes fell as densely as goose feathers, making it almost impossible to keep one's eyes open.
The sky above the snow-covered ground was pitch black, intermittently pierced by the mournful cries of night owls. Their massive black wings circled overhead. From a bird's-eye view, Zhenhuang City resembled a gleaming pearl amidst a vast expanse of glaciers, radiant and sparkling. Yet at this very moment, outside this pearl, a group of gaunt, ragged-clothed foreign refugees trudged laboriously, their wretched appearance starkly at odds with the city's prosperous splendor.
The biting north wind cut through the foreigners' thin, tattered garments like knives, chilling their already purplish, frostbitten skin. A sudden gust howled fiercely, forcing the refugees to huddle together in a desperate attempt to withstand the bitter cold. Without the shelter of city walls or buildings, the winter on the Hongchuan Plateau became utterly unbearable. Suddenly, an infant's cry broke the silence, starting as a solitary wail before gradually spreading and engulfing the entire procession.
Swish! The crack of a whip cut through the air. A grim-faced officer on horseback rode forward, barking harshly, "Silence!"
But how could the ignorant infants heed his command? The crying persisted. Frowning, the officer urged his horse into the crowd, bent down, and snatched a baby from a young woman's arms. He raised the child high and then—thud!—slammed it mercilessly onto the ground.
"Ah!" A piercing scream erupted as the child's mother shrieked in horror. She dropped to her knees, clutching the now-silent infant, and broke into uncontrollable sobs.
The officer's sharp, hawk-like eyes swept over the faces of the foreign refugees, and wherever his gaze fell, silence followed.
Under the dark sky, only the young mother's heart-wrenching cries remained. The officer drew his long blade and—swish!—severed her spine in one swift stroke. Blood splattered across the pale snow.
Chu Qiao's breath hitched. Clenching her teeth, she tensed her body, ready to charge forward.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" A bright-eyed youth held her tightly, whispering urgently into her ear, "They're soldiers of the Wei Clan. Don't act recklessly."
"Right here will do," the officer in black armor and a black fur cloak commanded his subordinates. The soldiers, clad in cold-iron helmets, dismounted swiftly. In unison, they drew their sabers. With a tug of the ropes, the refugees, their feet bound, were forced to their knees.
The officer's eyes were dark and sharp as blades, his thin lips pressed into a stern line. Slowly, he uttered a single word: "Kill."
Swish! The sound of blades cutting through the air was perfectly synchronized. The young soldiers, faces like iron, did not even blink. Dozens of heads rolled onto the thick snow. Warm blood gushed from the severed necks, forming a steaming, bloody stream that instantly froze in the frigid air.The child bit her lower lip tightly, hiding behind the snow slope as she watched the slaughter unfolding right before her eyes, her heart wrenched painfully. Her gaze was bright, like dazzling stars, yet it carried a heavy, sharp anger—a towering fury. Yan Xun’s hands were cold; though he still held her tightly, an emotion surged through his veins, making him almost afraid to turn and meet the child’s eyes. The small body beneath his arm radiated a heat that nearly scorched his hand.
He watched the empire’s rulers raise their blades again and again over the heads of the commoners, feeling as though they were not severing heads but his own convictions. The stubborn beliefs he had held for so many years were being stripped away layer by layer, leaving him exposed and ashamed.
As the sabers fell, blood splattered everywhere. The faces of the foreign commoners remained calm, showing no trace of fear in the face of death. Chu Qiao saw clearly that it was not the numbness of extreme terror, not the despair of hopelessness, nor the resignation of knowing there was no escape. Instead, it was a stubborn defiance, a bone-deep hatred. Everyone was quiet—no crying, no cursing. Even the child in an old woman’s arms was well-behaved. They opened their eyes wide, watching their kin fall one by one under the executioners’ blades, their gazes bright yet churning with immense, hidden waves.
It was a hatred that would make the gods tremble, a venom that would force the underworld’s demons to retreat.
The suppressed anger and hatred slowly grew within her. The child’s fists clenched tightly, like a bloodthirsty young wolf.
Just then, the rapid sound of hoofbeats echoed from afar, accompanied by a man’s urgent, furious shout: “Stop! All of you, stop!”
A snow-white warhorse galloped closer swiftly. The young man leaped off its back, whipping the blade-wielding soldiers’ wrists like a madman as he placed himself before the refugees, shouting angrily at the commander, “Mu He, what are you doing?”
“Major Shu Ye, I am carrying out military orders to execute the rebels,” the commander replied, frowning slightly at the man but still dismounting to salute respectfully, his voice grave.
“Rebels?” Shu Ye’s sharp eyebrows rose, his eyes blazing with anger as he pointed at the crowd of elderly, weak, women, and children on the ground. “Who are the rebels? Them? Who gave you the authority? Who permitted you to do this?”
Mu He’s expression remained unchanged, like unyielding stone. “Major, it was an edict from Shengjin Palace. Your uncle, Lord Wei, personally requested the decree. The document was signed by the council of elders, endorsed in red by your elder brother, the capital’s governor. It was a decision made by the entire Wei Clan’s leadership. I am merely following orders.”
Shu Ye froze, turning his head in bewilderment, his gaze sweeping over the refugees’ faces. These foreign commoners, who had not even flinched in the face of death, suddenly changed their expressions upon seeing Shu Ye, unable to conceal the fury in their eyes. An old woman abruptly stood up, ignoring the soldiers on either side, and charged forward, cursing, “You liar! Shameless oath-breaker! The gods will punish you!”A long blade suddenly swept down, crashing into the woman’s waist with a brutal force. Blood gushed from the grooves of the weapon, nearly severing her body in two. She collapsed weakly to the ground, yet with her last ounce of strength, she spat a bloody, viscous glob of phlegm onto Shu Ye’s pristine white robe, snarling a curse through gritted teeth: “Even as a ghost… I will never… let… you go…”
Shu Ye’s face turned ashen. The disgusting spittle clung to the hem of his robe, but he made no move to wipe it away. Instead, he pressed his lips tightly together, his gaze fixed on the chaotic sprawl of corpses and the countless pairs of eyes blazing with hatred.
“Major General,” Mu He sighed heavily as he stepped forward, his voice low and grave. “The Empire has no funds to spare for these people. The Elder Council will not allocate resources to build shelter for them. You are a descendant of the Wei Clan—you must honor your family’s will and safeguard their interests.”
A tempest raged within Shu Ye’s chest. His eyes burned crimson, yet he remained silent. Frowning, Mu He gestured to the soldiers with a slight nod. Understanding the command, they raised their blades, ready to resume the slaughter.
“You villain!” A clear, piercing voice suddenly rang out. From the back of the crowd, a small face lifted from its mother’s embrace. Though tearless, the child’s eyes were red-rimmed as he shouted, “Liar! You promised to bring us to the capital, to houses that don’t leak wind! You said everyone would have enough to eat and warm clothes! You said…”
A sharp arrow shot through the air—General Mu He’s aim was precise. In an instant, the child’s words were cut short, the arrow piercing through his mouth and exiting bloodily from the back of his skull.
“Begin!” Mu He roared, drawing his own blade.
“Stop!”
The young major general shattered under the weight of the child’s piercing accusations. He lunged forward recklessly, shoving two soldiers aside. “Restrain the Major General!” Mu He barked angrily. Several soldiers rushed over, employing combat techniques to firmly subdue Shu Ye.
The merciless massacre commenced. Blood flowed freely, mingling with churned mud, while the shrill cries of Eagle Vultures overhead added a chilling aura of death to the horror. A massive pit was dug, and thousands of lifeless bodies were tossed inside. Soil was hastily shoveled over them, and soldiers galloped their warhorses back and forth, trampling the earth. A blizzard of goose-feather snowflakes began to fall, swiftly blanketing the crimson-stained ground—burying the unspeakable sins and the inhuman atrocities deep beneath a shroud of white.
There, before his subordinates, the young, handsome, and high-ranking nobleman of Zhenhuang Capital—a man of illustrious lineage and esteemed position—had lost his composure. For the sake of a group of lowly, despised commoners, he had abandoned all reason.
“Major General,” Mu He approached, his voice somber as he regarded the man staring blankly at the snow-covered ground. “You should not have done this. They are an inferior race, tainted by base blood. You should not have defied Lord Wei for their sake. Your uncle holds great expectations for you. Without you, the Wei Clan disciples in the appointment hall are left leaderless. We are all awaiting your return.”
Receiving no response from the major general, Mu He sighed softly. Leading the troops, he withdrew. The thunder of warhorses faded into the distance, and soon, the desolate plains showed no trace of their presence.
The man stood there for a long time, engulfed by the swirling snow. This New Year’s festival had turned bitterly, unbearably cold.Hidden behind the snowy slope, the two children watched in astonishment as the high-ranking young general of the Wei Clan suddenly knelt upon the vast, desolate land. He bowed solemnly toward the direction of the fallen souls, then mounted his horse and galloped away with swift precision.
A long time passed, yet the heavy snow showed no sign of ceasing. The child shifted their frozen limbs and staggered forward unsteadily.
"What are you doing?" Yan Xun exclaimed in surprise, rising to his feet in astonishment.
The child turned around, their expression calm, yet their eyes gleamed with a sharp, piercing coldness. "I belong to a lowly race, bearing ignoble blood in my veins. We were never meant to stand together. Since our paths diverge, it's better to part ways sooner rather than later."
Under the bleak, desolate moonlight, the child's figure appeared small and fragile. Yet, as Yan Xun watched from afar, he suddenly felt that their upright back seemed capable of propping up this decaying world. The snow fell thick as cotton, and a trail of footprints stretched steadily across the snowy ground, heading straight toward the heart of the Daxia Empire.
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