Vermilion balustrades and carved stonework, colorful tiles gleaming with jade-like clarity, sunlight filtered through the gaps in the foliage in countless refractions, casting a faint golden glow of aged antiquity. Slanted floral shadows danced lightly as the spring day lingered upon the willow branches outside the bedchamber, passing through the dim window lattices to flow shimmeringly into her eyes.
A letter was held between her fingers, carrying a faint scent of warfare and smoke. The ink strokes were vigorous, penetrating the paper, with just a few brief words flowing like a tranquil lake throughout the warm spring bedchamber of the third lunar month.
Chu Qiao, dressed in a moon-white gauze dress, reclined on a soft couch. A birdcage hung by the window, its door wide open. A snow-white bird slept lazily inside, three red tail feathers drooping listlessly, showing none of its usual fierceness.
Yue Qi had said this was Zhuge Yue’s snow eagle, the most ferocious bird of prey in Qinghai—swift as lightning, with sharp claws and teeth, and highly intelligent.
Chu Qiao used chopsticks to offer a piece of marinated meat. The bird barely opened its eyes before snatching the morsel, chewing twice and swallowing, then tilting its head to resume sleeping.
Such a lazy bird—it hadn’t made a sound all day.
Chu Qiao gazed up at it, her fingers tracing the letter as a warm flicker of joy rose in her heart.
Lazy it might be, but it was still quite useful.
This letter, once merely correspondence, had now become a message from home.
The wedding date was approaching. In just two days, he would return.
Soon, she would don the phoenix crown and ceremonial robes, be carried in an eight-person sedan chair amid celebratory music and drums, and marry into his household. From then on, she would be his rightful wife. The gilded marriage certificate still lay beneath her pillow, adorned with golden powder depicting mandarin ducks playing in water, paired flying birds, and blooming flowers symbolizing harmonious union—their names inscribed side by side within.
Chu Qiao thought she might be like that Qinghai snow eagle—shedding its sharp edges, relinquishing violence, content to dwell in a golden cage. Even with the door wide open, it no longer wished to leave.
There are countless kinds of doors in this world, but the ones that truly hold people back are always invisible.
He was the Minister of War of Daxia, yet also a titled feudal prince. She, too, would be married with the rites of a princess. Betrothal gifts and dowries filled an entire courtyard, with pearls, jade, and rare treasures piled mountain-high. The imperial tailoring bureau crafted her wedding dress and court attire, while royal rewards arrived in succession. Elaborate gift lists from noble families overflowed, cramming an entire hall.
Uncharacteristically, she found herself somewhat engaged, occasionally bringing Jingjing, Mei Xiang, and Huan’er to examine the presents. When they encountered particularly rare treasures, these women—unaccustomed to such opulence—would gasp in exaggerated astonishment, like country bumpkins visiting the city.
Tonight, she would move into the main Zhuge residence, where the family matriarch would prepare her for pre-wedding rituals. Having no maternal home, she would reside in the Zhuge mansion before the ceremony, then marry from her childhood courtyard into this resplendent Sima Mansion.
Dawn and dusk, morning and evening—time rippled like circles on water, spreading outward in gentle waves.
After moving into the Zhuge residence, she did not meet the matriarch of the main branch, only accompanied by the Jing family. Chu Qiao kept the girl named Yu Xiaohe by her side. Occasionally, when lost in thought, this young woman from a modest background would quietly light a stick of Suhe incense. The fragrance was familiar, reminiscent of a formula she had learned long ago in her youth at the imperial pharmacy.One qian of perilla seed, one qian of lily bulb, one qian of cassia bark, one qian of gold powder, two qian of lotus stamen, two qian of rose powder, two qian of plantain oil, two qian of...
None were particularly precious medicinal ingredients, yet the blend produced a fragrance that soothed the mind and nourished the spirit, most effective in helping those plagued by nightmares to sleep soundly.
Two days later, a servant came to report that Zhuge Yue had returned to the city and had gone to the main house to pay respects to his parents, but according to etiquette, he could not come to see her. She received the news while bathing, hot water rising along her smooth shoulders, bringing a steaming warmth. An attendant handed her a family letter; her fingers were still wet, dripping water continuously. The moisture soaked the letter paper, blurring a stroke of ink. Through the hazy steam, only one line of text was visible, the brushstrokes elegant and refined, the characters slender and graceful.
"I have returned. I will come for you in five days."
Five days later would be the day of their grand wedding.
At night, Chu Qiao reached out and touched a vine that had dried slightly under the day's sun. A faint trace of white salt powder clung to her fingers as water trickled down. Hidden emotions slowly crept up the layers of verdant vines.
A basin of saltwater shimmered with a pale golden hue. A letter drifted at the bottom, with faint characters gradually surfacing—dense, tiny script meticulously detailing intricate thoughts.
Chu Qiao's fingertips turned pale as the sounds of past battles echoed in her mind, like a melodious wind instrument.
"My lord, will you accompany me?"
Chu Qiao shook her head and smiled faintly. "I must stay here."
He Xiao nodded, bowed respectfully, and said, "Take care, my lord."
Outside the window, dew fell drop by drop. The moon in the night sky was large and pale. Gazing at the tranquil moonlit night, Chu Qiao murmured softly, "The wind is rising."
The Zhuge family sent three noblewomen to style her hair, but Chu Qiao dismissed them all. Elderly women from the Jing family also volunteered, but she declined their offers as well. In the end, it was still Mei Xiang who, on the eve of the wedding, was sent into the bedchamber.
Mei Xiang, usually so steadfast, trembled slightly as she helped Chu Qiao into the gilded silk crabapple-patterned brocade wedding gown, edged with golden phoenix motifs. The small sash featured eight colors, embroidered with peony designs and adorned with eight-treasure necklaces, Tiancang jade, white Hetian jade, and purple blood jade. Gold seals and purple ribbons, a head full of pearls and jade, and golden phoenix wings shimmered brilliantly under the glowing lights, creating a scene of resplendent grandeur.
Tears rolled down Mei Xiang's cheeks, yet the corners of her mouth lifted high, her smile as radiant as a wisp of cloud and mist.
Chu Qiao reached out to wipe away her tears, then embraced the woman who had followed her for so many years. The rouge on her cheeks glowed like the crimson maple leaves of September, with a fleeting brilliance.
"Miss."
Mei Xiang held her tightly, her voice trembling, barely suppressing her sobs.
"Miss, miss..."
She could no longer form words, only holding her tightly, calling out "miss" repeatedly, then letting her tears flow freely.
The next morning, Chu Qiao finally welcomed her wedding day.
Officials from Biantang stood guard nearby, managing the ceremony entirely according to the rites of a princess's marriage. The phoenix carriage departed from the Zhuge mansion and arrived at Biantang's villa in Zhenhuang. There, she first received the late Emperor Li Ce's decree, then accepted the blessings of the current Tang Emperor, Li Xiuyi. Passing through Zhuangyi Gate and Qiankun Gate, the air was filled with joyous clamor, the harmonious sounds of pipes and drums echoing. Red silk canopies and crimson brocade blazed like fire, while gold foil fell like frost and snow along the route. Zhenhuang dispatched a large contingent of officials to accompany the procession, the music of drums and pipes all part of the wedding rites.The common folk crowded together, dense and vast as mountains and seas. Eighty bridal attendants rode in small phoenix carriages, followed by the womenfolk and noble ladies of the Zhuge family. Chu Qiao’s palms were damp, as though she had broken out in a sweat. The red bridal veil obscured her vision, allowing only the joyful sounds of gongs and drums to reach her ears.
Yet, Chu Qiao’s heart grew tense, thread by thread. As the procession advanced, gradually nearing Sima Mansion, the route became deeply familiar to her. She knew that, barring any mishaps, at the Peacock Bridge ahead, the ceremonial officials of Biantang would hand over the bridal sedan to the officials of Daxia, and Zhuge Yue would meet her there to receive the bride.
However, just as they reached Yue Liu Lake, the phoenix carriage suddenly jolted to a halt.
Chu Qiao’s heart leaped violently. Almost simultaneously, a series of ancient, drawn-out bell tolls echoed from the direction of the Holy Gold Palace. Fourteen solemn and desolate chimes reverberated through the broad main street—five long and nine short, unlike the nine long and five short tolls that signaled an emperor’s presence. This time, the sound carried a somber and bleak tone, as if a mournful wind howled and swept across this opulent and splendid land.
All sounds—of those walking, standing, gazing from afar, or bustling about—ceased at once. The world fell into utter silence; even the birds in the sky seemed to halt their flight. No one knew who reacted first, but soon after, everyone knelt and bowed in the direction of the Holy Gold Palace.
A tremendous wave of wailing immediately surged upward, spreading from the direction of Ziwei Square.
Chu Qiao tore off her bridal veil and lifted the carriage curtain. A gentle breeze brushed against her temples, softly stirring her hair.
It was at this moment that she suddenly understood one thing.
Emperor Xia had passed away—
The ceremonial officials of Daxia prostrated themselves on the ground, weeping loudly. The accompanying officials from Biantang stood dumbfounded, unsure how to handle such a sudden turn of events.
Zhuge Huai rode up from the rear, his expression grave as he directed the procession to turn back the way they had come.
The breeze rustled the carriage curtain. Chu Qiao gazed into the distance at the Peacock Bridge spanning the emerald lake, her heart in turmoil like waves churning relentlessly in the water. As the procession moved farther away, the Peacock Bridge gradually blurred into a mist-shrouded stone pier, obscured by layers of vibrant blossoms and willows, until it was no longer visible.
Suddenly, panic seized Chu Qiao. For a moment, she felt disoriented, as though she had returned to that winter day at Qianzhang Lake, where the two of them drifted farther and farther apart, eventually buried beneath endless, vast snow.
She lifted the hem of her skirt and pushed open the carriage door.
“Your Highness!”
A pair of slender hands suddenly gripped her tightly. Yu Xiaohe stared in shock at Chu Qiao, who seemed ready to leap from the carriage, and cried out in alarm, “What are you doing, Your Highness?”
Just then, a figure ahead turned around. His long, cold eyes resembled still, deep pools, bearing a faint resemblance to Zhuge Yue. It was Zhuge Yue’s elder brother, Zhuge Huai.
Chu Qiao’s movements gradually froze. Faced with thousands of armored soldiers, she slowly closed the carriage door. Then, leaning back against the seat, she fell into silent stillness.
Chu Qiao was taken back to the Biantang diplomatic residence. For the entire day, she remained seated in her room without stepping outside. As evening fell, Ping An came to report that military forces outside the city were frequently mobilizing. The Holy Gold Palace had yet to announce the cause of the emperor’s death, and the common people hid in their homes, the city gripped by anxiety and fear.
After night had fully descended, the Biantang diplomatic residence was completely surrounded. Even Ping An and Duoji could no longer go out to gather information.The moon rose to the treetops when a clamor of footsteps suddenly erupted outside the posthouse, as if a large force had surrounded it layer by layer. Duoji went out to negotiate but only ushered in a tall, slender man.
Zhuge Huai stood at the doorway, still wearing a modest smile, though his demeanor was far less cordial than before.
"The city is in chaos. I must ask Your Highness, King Xiuli, to remain here and refrain from moving about freely."
Chu Qiao nodded, replying gently, "I understand. Rest assured, Elder Brother."
Zhuge Huai gave a faint smile without a word, turned, and left.
At midnight, a surge of battle cries, the twang of crossbows, screams, and the deliberately chaotic clamor of gongs and drums erupted from the direction of the Holy Gold Palace, all blending into a dissonant cacophony.
Ping An rushed in anxiously, shouting, "Sister, we’re surrounded!"
Chu Qiao, still clad in her wedding robes, sat in the main seat, a teacup in hand. She remained motionless, only a slight furrow of her brow indicating she had heard the child’s words.
"Sister! We’ll fight our way out with you!"
Jingjing had donned warrior’s attire, a small bow and arrows on her back. Several elderly Biantang ceremonial officials stood nearby, panic-stricken and pale-faced.
Chu Qiao shook her head. Her gaze fixed beyond the door, she half-clenched her fist, her crimson wedding dress glowing vividly under the candlelight like fresh blood.
"Miss, that Zhuge Huai is no good man. He’s holding us under house arrest."
Mei Xiang stepped forward to speak as well.
By the second watch, the sounds of fighting outside gradually subsided. Zhuge Huai returned, this time making no attempt to conceal his intentions. He stated plainly, "Please come with me."
"How is Rong’er?"
"Set your mind at ease. I bear no grudge against Li Ce. As long as you cooperate, I guarantee the boy’s safety."
Chu Qiao stood up and said readily, "I’ll go with you."
Zhuge Huai looked at her with appreciation and remarked approvingly, "Old Fourth’s judgment isn’t half bad."
"By betraying your clan, aren’t you afraid of retribution?"
Zhuge Huai laughed heartily, the years of restraint finally finding release. He smiled faintly and said, "Betraying the clan? How do you know the clan didn’t abandon him first?"
Chu Qiao’s eyes sharpened instantly. After a moment of silent contemplation, she finally nodded. "I see."
"Truly a clever one, understanding with just a hint."
Chu Qiao asked, "What benefits can Zhao Yang offer the Zhuge Clan to make you take such a great risk?"
"None to speak of," Zhuge Huai replied indifferently. "It’s just that if Zhao Yang ascends, Daxia will remain Daxia, and the great clans will remain the great clans. But if Zhao Che takes the throne, Daxia may become like Qinghai or the Eastern Hu. Where the great clans would end up, I dare not predict."
So that’s it.
Chu Qiao nodded and said no more.
"Old Fourth is already surrounded at Zǐwēi Square, with only his three thousand personal guards. The rest of his troops are outside the city. The Capital Garrison, the Elite Cavalry Camp, and the Green Camp Army are all on our side. Zhao Che’s Eastern Hu army has fled eastward from the city. He has no chance of turning the tide now. If he holds out any longer, it will only lead to his death. If you can persuade him to surrender, I can spare his life."
Chu Qiao raised her eyebrows, staring intently at him, and asked, "Do you mean what you say?"
Zhuge Huai smiled. "Absolutely."
"Very well. The victor is king, the loser a bandit. There’s nothing more to say. Lead the way."
Zhuge Huai said, "Then I must trouble you to endure a minor inconvenience."
Chu Qiao extended her hands and said, "Go ahead."Two sword-bearing guards stepped forward, holding ropes, ready to bind Chu Qiao.
The room was brightly lit, and the shouts and killings outside had ceased. Chu Qiao, dressed in ceremonial attire, remained composed. Two burly men stood beside her, each gripping one of her arms. Zhuge Huai stood opposite her, followed by four personal guards.
The candles crackled, and the wind howled, as if piercing through the mists of time, carrying the earnest teachings of her former instructor.
Strike swiftly, aim accurately, maintain steady composure, and exert force ruthlessly...
Just as the ropes were being tied, Chu Qiao's figure flashed. She crouched low, evading the guards' grasp, and with lightning speed, she drew the swords from the two burly men. With a fierce inward slash, blood splattered, and crimson light erupted!
Before the two screams could fully form, the steel blades were already pulled out and hurled, piercing through the chests of two guards charging forward. Chu Qiao pressed her advantage, seizing a man's wrist, wrapping an arm around his neck, and executing a shoulder throw. With a twist and a sharp crack, the man collapsed to the ground in a grotesque posture.
Seeing Zhuge Huai turn to flee under the protection of his last remaining guard, Chu Qiao pulled out a hairpin and flung it. She leaped nimbly, grabbed the guard by his hair, and with a forceful tug, tore off a large patch of bloody scalp. Wrapping it around the man's neck, she gave a sharp twist. His legs struggled briefly before his eyes rolled back.
Everything happened in an instant. After dealing with the last guard, Chu Qiao slowly walked over to Zhuge Huai, who had a hairpin embedded in his neck. Drawing a dagger from her boot, she calmly said, "The victor becomes king, the loser a bandit. Do you have any last words?"
Zhuge Huai's eyes widened in terror as he struggled desperately. Chu Qiao's blade swept down, and a line of blood instantly arced through the air.
The door burst open, and the night wind swept in, howling as it whipped up yellow sand and fallen leaves.
All the soldiers in the courtyard looked up to see a woman in bright red ceremonial robes standing coldly at the entrance, holding Zhuge Huai's severed head. Her gaze was icy as she casually tossed the head to the ground.
Outside the posthouse, the sound of hooves clattered as a large group of torchbearers gathered. The guards turned in panic to see a white flag with red clouds fluttering amidst the sea of torches, bearing the elegant characters "Xiuli." He Xiao rode in on horseback, holding a child just over a year old, and declared loudly, "My lady, the mission has been accomplished!"
Chu Qiao strode fearlessly into the crowd. A high-ranking officer finally snapped out of his daze and shouted, "Brothers! Avenge Young Master Huai! Kill this—"
But before he could finish, a sharp arrow whistled through the air, piercing his throat with precision and drawing a ghastly crimson streak in the dark night.
He Xiao remained expressionless, followed by countless black-armored soldiers, each holding a crossbow. They stood like silent stones, coldly observing everyone in the courtyard.
A heavy atmosphere hung over the scene. Chu Qiao, in her red ceremonial robes embroidered with the golden phoenix pattern of a first-rank princess, casually picked up a battle sword from the ground and mounted the warhorse brought by He Xiao. Her gaze swept across the crowd, and wherever it landed, the pressure intensified, like a layer of frigid seawater.
"My lady, where do we go?"
Chu Qiao tightened the reins and slowly turned around, saying faintly, "To the northern gate guarded by the Elite Cavalry Camp."He Xiao was slightly taken aback and asked in surprise, "Aren't we going to Ziwei Square to rescue the Fourth Young Master?"
Chu Qiao smiled confidently and said, "Don't worry, he will come to join us."
With that, she took the lead and rode out of the posthouse.
At the north gate, the garrison of the Elite Cavalry Camp numbered over forty thousand, all fully armored. This army, once commanded by Zhao Che, had now completely become Zhao Yang's personal troops. Having followed Zhao Yang in numerous campaigns north and south, their loyalty was no less than that of Chu Qiao's Xiuli Army.
At this moment, they looked contemptuously at the opposing force of less than a thousand men. The defending general, He Qian, stood on the city tower, let out a cold laugh, and then ordered his subordinates, "Wipe them out."
The city walls were high and thick, equipped with abundant defensive tools. Generally, attacking a city gate like that of the Daxia capital required at least three to five times the enemy's military strength to succeed. However, Chu Qiao had brought fewer than a thousand men and dared to attack a ten-thousand-strong army guarding a formidable pass—it was nothing short of seeking death.
The Daxia Army sent out a soldier with a loud voice to persuade Chu Qiao to surrender. After speaking for a long time with no response from her, he began to curse, calling Zhuge Yue a treacherous rebel who, together with the Seventh Prince Zhao Che, had conspired to harm Emperor Xia. He claimed they were trapped in the city with no escape and would surely die without a burial place.
Chu Qiao listened quietly without any reaction. But after a while, as the soldier's words grew increasingly absurd—even suggesting that Zhuge Yue and Zhao Che had an improper relationship, engaging in unspeakable acts—she couldn't help but feel anger rise in her heart. She held out her hand to He Xiao and said, "Bow."
Without a word, He Xiao handed her a crossbow.
Chu Qiao drew the bow and nocked an arrow, which instantly shot out like lightning. The soldier was quite skilled; having likely shouted insults on the battlefield many times over the years, he was prepared. Seeing Chu Qiao's arrow coming, he flipped off his horse. But before he even landed, an arrow, ghost-like, arrived in an instant from below, piercing through his mouth and out the back of his head.
He Qian was furious and immediately issued the attack order. In an instant, arrows filled the sky, dark and dense like mountains and seas, and the charge of the Daxia Army resounded through heaven and earth.
In contrast to the Daxia Army's imposing manner, the Xiuli Army remained silent. They did not stand within the range of the arrows; only a few soldiers with exceptional strength could shoot their arrows that far, but even those had lost their force. The Xiuli Army warriors casually deflected the arrows with their blades, knocking them aside.
He Qian was the city gate commander and should have defended the gate. But at the moment, Chu Qiao's troops only surrounded them without attacking, so the battle couldn't commence. Were his soldiers supposed to go down and engage the cavalry in close combat? While his colleagues were charging into battle, helping the Fourteenth Prince secure the empire, he could only stand guard here. Finally, when a group of enemies arrived, they dawdled and refused to take action. He Qian was so angry he felt smoke coming out of his seven orifices. Just then, a cavalry unit from the opposite side suddenly rushed to within arrow range, carrying shields and shouting something at him.
He Qian was startled and ordered the entire army to quiet down. He was somewhat old and hard of hearing, so he asked the guard beside him, "What is that person saying?"
The guard's face turned pale, and after thinking for a moment, he whispered, "General, that person is asking if you are willing to surrender. He says if you remain obstinate, they will eliminate us."
He Qian was instantly enraged. Eliminate him?
He had forty thousand troops, while the other side had less than a thousand. Although he had heard that King Xiuli was a brilliant strategist, often defeating larger forces with fewer soldiers, she had mostly been on the defensive side before, relying on high walls and sharp arrows to barely hold her ground. Now, using a thousand cavalry to attack the city gate was nothing short of a pipe dream.
Just as General He Qian was roaring in fury, a bright yellow firework suddenly exploded in the eastern sky, scattering countless sparks like a tapestry of splendor.
Chu Qiao looked up toward the east for a long time before calmly saying, "Alright, open the city gate."
Ping An, standing nearby, was stunned upon hearing this and was about to speak when he saw He Xiao ask with utmost seriousness, "Shall we eliminate them all?"
Chu Qiao frowned slightly, weighing her options, and said, "Let’s see if they dare to resist."
Ping An was so shocked his eyes nearly popped out. Just as he was about to ask if they had gone mad, he suddenly heard He Xiao shout a command. A squad of armored soldiers swiftly rode forward, arranged in two rows of twenty each. Every soldier held a bow and arrow, with the front row’s arrows carrying oilpaper packages and the back row armed with fire arrows.
"Target: North Gate! First group, aim for the upper left corner! Second group, lower left corner! Third group, upper right corner! Fourth group, lower right corner! Fifth group, the center! Ready—one, two—fire!"
In an instant, the first row of arrows shot forth, hurtling toward the heavy city gate. Immediately after, the second row of fire arrows followed. The moment the first row’s arrows embedded into the gate, each oilpaper package was pierced by a fire arrow. As the wind picked up, flames roared to life.
He Qian was taken aback, then burst into laughter. "Is His Highness King Xiuli planning to burn down my city gate? Hah, this little fire won’t be enough!"
But as soon as he finished speaking, a deafening explosion erupted from the gate. The entire wall shook violently, as if struck by an earthquake. Black smoke billowed into the sky, resembling the thunderous charge of ten thousand horses and soldiers in the dark night.
Then, He Qian stared in stunned disbelief as the Zhenhuang City gate he had guarded for over twenty years, along with half the wall, crumbled into ruins amid the rolling black smoke.
The Zhenhuang City gate, which Daxia had proudly claimed could withstand a million-strong army, had, in that moment, fallen from its three-hundred-year history of invincibility.
"Groups six to ten, prepare! Target: the eastern section of the wall! Sixth group—"
He Xiao’s voice rang out again, followed by another series of powerful explosives that demolished the eastern wall. After three consecutive blasts, most of the northern gate had collapsed, leaving the Xiuli Army with a clear, unobstructed path ahead.
"Listen, all of you on the other side!"
Ten messengers rode forward, each holding a simple voice amplifier, and shouted, "Drop your weapons immediately! Drop your weapons immediately! Put your hands on your heads and crouch down! We accept your surrender and will spare your lives. Listen, all of you on the other side, drop your weapons now…"
He Qian, covered in soot, stood dumbfounded. He couldn’t comprehend how his forty thousand troops had been defeated so easily—without even a single sword or spear being crossed. Why had the enemy merely set off a few firecrackers and blown his city gate wide open? Why were there such terrifying firecrackers in this world? How had he never heard of them before?Chu Qiao rode her horse forward, looking down at General He Qian who had fallen from the city wall. She nodded faintly and said calmly, "General He, my apologies for the victory."
In that instant, He Qian nearly choked on his frustration, feeling as if he might vomit blood.
Just then, a cloud of dust rose in the east as Zhuge Yue arrived with three thousand subordinates, thundering in like a storm. Seeing the scene before him, he was slightly shocked, but only when he caught sight of Chu Qiao’s unharmed figure did he slowly let out a sigh of relief.
Amid the chaotic battlefield, the two of them sat on horseback, separated by a great distance. Their gazes pierced through the layers of people, meeting quietly under a starless, moonless night sky.
Chu Qiao curled her lips into a faint smile. Even now, she was still dressed in her bright red wedding attire, complete with a phoenix crown and ceremonial robes embroidered with intricate patterns. At her brow, she wore an eight-treasure chicken-blood jade necklace, her lush hair piled high in a style befitting royal tradition. In such a fierce night, she appeared dignified, serene, noble, and sharp.
Zhuge Yue urged his horse forward and asked her, "Are you alright?"
Chu Qiao smiled. "I'm fine."
Yes, she was fine. She had received his secret message, knowing someone would make a move on the wedding day, but she hadn’t expected them to be so bold. Nothing had gone wrong; she had only been worried about him, forced to endure and hold back. Just a little concern, that was all—no injuries, no humiliation, everything was fine, all was well.
Zhuge Yue turned to He Qian and the forty thousand Green Camp Army soldiers, declaring, "The Emperor was not harmed by me or the Seventh Prince. The true traitors are the ones you serve. Now, with foreign enemies at our borders and internal strife unceasing, we have no desire to tear open Daxia’s gates at this time. Go back and tell Zhao Yang: we have no interest in this Zhenhuang City—we’re giving it to him as a gift."
With that, he reached out a long arm, lifted Chu Qiao onto his own horse, and with his close followers, swept out through the wide-open gates like a whirlwind.
Zhuge Yue was not boasting; this Zhenhuang City was indeed a gift he and Zhao Che had handed over to Zhao Yang.
Long before the wedding, they had sensed Zhao Yang’s impending treachery. He had instructed the garrison at Wild Goose Cry Pass to secretly allow his subordinates to provoke Yan Xun, while spreading rumors throughout the country that Yanbei lacked military strength, inciting war fervor within the Elder Council and the court. Then, using the pretext of impending conflict with Yanbei, he manipulated the Elder Council to mobilize the troops under Zhuge Yue’s command. Through promises, he gained the support of noble clans like the Wei Clan and Zhuge Clan, dispersing Zhao Che and Zhuge Yue’s military authority to various locations. Under the guise of training exercises, he temporarily weakened their power during the wedding.
Zhuge Yue had to return to the capital for his wedding, and since military training in Yecheng was not yet complete, Zhao Che had to remain there. Zhao Yang’s plan was to seize this opportunity to eliminate Zhuge Yue in one stroke, then pin the traitor’s label on Zhao Che. Isolated and helpless, Zhao Che would be at Zhao Yang’s mercy.
However, he never expected that even with the combined forces of the Green Camp Army, Elite Cavalry Camp, and Capital Garrison Army—along with Zhuge Huai leading the clan’s troops and using Chu Qiao as a hostage—Zhuge Yue would still manage to turn the tables, causing his scheme to fall short.
By the time Zhuge Yue’s forces reached Dongyu City, all Qinghai troops stationed within Zhenhuang had arrived, totaling over 110,000. Combined with armies loyal to Zhuge Yue and Zhao Che, their numbers approached 250,000.At this moment, Zhao Che had already led 170,000 Eastern Hu troops to firmly guard Yecheng, forming a pincer formation with Zhuge Yue to the north and west, firmly controlling Zhenhuang City within their grasp.
Within three days, various feudal lords began to mobilize. Rebel armies from Yicheng, Xuanhua, Daliao, and Qingcheng successively approached Zhenhuang under the banner of eliminating traitors and upholding imperial authority, clashing fiercely with Zhao Yang. These forces weren't loyal to Zhao Che or Zhuge Yue—rather, with the internal turmoil erupting, every feudal lord sought to seize their share, and Zhao Yang, who occupied the capital, naturally became a coveted prize in everyone's eyes. Those warlords with more brawn than brains couldn't resist, leading massive troops while dreaming of becoming emperor.
This was precisely why Zhuge Yue had previously abandoned Zhenhuang. Since Daxia's internal strife was inevitable, he gave all those with rebellious ambitions a stage to step forward. And at this moment, whoever occupied Zhenhuang would become the target of all.
Across Daxia's borders, beacon fires suddenly rose everywhere, filled with the sounds of battle cries.
Seizing the opportunity, Zhuge Yue and Zhao Che opened the Qinghai and Eastern Hu passes, deploying large armies to guard and inspect them. Civilians caught in the war zones heard the news and flocked northwest with their families. Within three days, nearly 400,000 people passed through the Qinghai pass alone. Despite three months of preparation, Qinghai officials were overwhelmed by the sudden refugee surge.
After more than ten days of fierce fighting outside Zhenhuang City, many initially opportunistic feudal lords grew furious from Zhao Yang's attacks, eagerly awaiting Zhao Che's intervention to curry favor with their new master and gain a reputation for loyalty.
On the third day of the fourth month, Zhao Che announced his campaign against the traitor Zhao Yang. That afternoon, Zhuge Yue followed suit, leading over 200,000 troops toward Zhenhuang.
On the same day, Zhao Yang's personal Southern Army, under senior commanders, arrived at Zhenhuang via the southwestern canal. The seventeenth prince Zhao Yi was sidelined, and command of 150,000 troops returned to Zhao Yang's hands.
Thus, the long-brewing battle for the throne between the two dragons finally erupted spectacularly as the ice and snow melted.
The war revealed its brutality from the outset. To prevent Chu Qiao from using her previous method to destroy city walls, Zhao Yang abandoned the towering fortifications, deploying large forces to ambush and intercept the enemy thirty li outside the city, engaging Zhao Che and Zhuge Yue's superior numbers in open combat. In truth, over the years, Chu Qiao had only privately developed a small amount of explosives. To prevent this advanced weapon from causing massive casualties, she never disclosed the gunpowder formula.
The dead fell like autumn weeds, batch after batch on the lush green grasslands. Mournful horns echoed throughout Daxia's skies all day long, the scenes as grim as hell. The soil reeked of blood everywhere. After each battle, medical teams from all armies rushed onto the battlefield with stretchers, but their primary task wasn't rescue—it was delivering mercy kills to the severely wounded and dying.
Though Chu Qiao had experienced battlefields before, witnessing such scenes still chilled her to the bone.
She privately asked Zhuge Yue, "Is this necessary? Must Daxia's soldiers slaughter each other?"Zhuge Yue looked at her, his resolute face possessing an almost demonic beauty. He said the civil war was unavoidable—Zhao Yang had held power for too long, with deeply entrenched forces in the court, especially enjoying high prestige in the military. It was impossible to make him willingly acknowledge Zhao Che as his sovereign. Since Zhao Che and he had returned to the country only recently, it was extremely difficult to strip Zhao Yang of his power or split his faction. This battle was inescapable. Now, by pinning Emperor Xia’s death on Zhao Yang and having various feudal lords weaken his forces beforehand, this was already the best opportunity for the civil war to erupt.
Chu Qiao had actually wanted to ask whether Emperor Xia was truly dead and who had done it—was it Zhao Yang? Zhao Che? Or Zhuge Yue himself?
But in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Instead, Zhuge Yue took the initiative to tell her.
As it turned out, it was fate. A physician in the imperial pharmacy had been involved in corruption and fraud, secretly procuring a batch of moldy medicine. Coincidentally, during those days, Emperor Xia’s condition had been fluctuating, and he had secretly ordered a trusted imperial physician to change his prescription. Fearing that the court and the public would learn about the worsening of his illness, he did not publicize it. By sheer chance, one of the ingredients in that batch of moldy medicine was essential for Emperor Xia’s new prescription. Zhao Yang was the first to learn of this—as the general in charge of the capital garrison, he had planted several trusted aides in the imperial pharmacy years ago, so he received the news promptly. However, he was unaware that Zhao Che had also placed spies among his close associates, so the information he obtained quickly reached Zhao Che without his knowledge.
And so, Emperor Xia took the new medicine day after day. His personal physician was only responsible for prescribing the medicine, and the eunuch who tested it was in good health and not killed by the moldy drugs. But the frail Emperor Xia finally breathed his last on the day of Zhuge Yue’s wedding.
Emperor Xia had been cautious all his life, yet he probably never imagined he would end up dying at the hands of a corrupt minor physician. And his two sons, both fully aware of the situation, neither had any intention of saving him.
After learning this, Chu Qiao fell silent for a long time. Unconsciously, her thoughts turned to Yan Xun, and a sense of desolate sorrow welled up in her heart.
Yan Xun’s greatest wish in life had likely been to kill Emperor Xia to avenge his parents and family. Now, with immense power and a strong army at his command, his enemy had died of illness in his bed, worn down by the passage of time. She wondered how he would react upon hearing the news—would he laugh joyfully or weep in bitter fury? Perhaps neither. Maybe he would just sit quietly, suppressing all his emotions, and the next day, carry on as usual.
The sound of bugles blared—"Woo woo woo"—as Zhao Yang sent three more cavalry regiments to attack from the flank. Zhuge Yue ordered four auxiliary regiments to engage them, launching a flank assault on Zhao Yang’s forces.
The battle had been raging for two days and two nights without a moment’s respite, with a variety of tactics deployed in succession. Both Zhao Yang and Zhuge Yue were top-tier commanders of their time, and with their forces evenly matched in this head-on clash, neither side gained a clear advantage.
Chu Qiao’s Xiuli Army had also joined the fight three times, coordinating with the Qinghai army to attack Zhao Yang’s right flank. He Xiao led his troops to tear gaps in the enemy lines twice, but each time, the breaches were quickly sealed by the opponent.Everyone knew this was a battle for imperial power. The victor would claim the throne, while the defeated would meet a gruesome end without even a proper burial ground. Their followers would share the same fate, which was why no one retreated. Even if it meant shedding their last drop of blood, they would die on the battlefield.
On the morning of the third day, Zhuge Yue, clad in full armor, sat on the command platform. Without any stirring speech, he simply drew his war blade and declared to his troops, "This is the final day. After this battle, our names will be etched into history."
"Slay the enemy! Slay the enemy!"
Thousands of rough voices roared in unison. Standing behind the crowd, Chu Qiao narrowed her eyes slightly, gazing against the light at the man surrounded by legions of soldiers. A faint smile touched her lips, revealing a row of pearly white teeth.
The final... battle!
A faint dark shadow appeared on the vast plain, accompanied by a low rumble like distant thunder. On the endless grassland, Zhuge Yue's army finally confronted Zhao Yang's main force. Two days of fierce combat had inflicted heavy losses on both sides, yet they stood here now, battle spirits high, without a hint of retreat.
The shadow rapidly expanded, spreading across the horizon like a massive dark cloud, its end unseen. Under the sunlight, it churned up clouds of dust, adopting a dense assault formation as it fixed its gaze upon Zhuge Yue's army.
Two hundred zhang, one hundred zhang, fifty zhang...
Closer and closer, until both sides could almost smell the warm breath from each other's warhorses.
The aura of death lingered over the battlefield. Carrion crows circled overhead, occasionally letting out harsh, eerie cries.
The thunderous war drums boomed. Thousands of hooves shifted restlessly, causing the earth to tremble uncontrollably. The vibrations rose from the soles of their feet, seeping into their very bones, chilling their hearts.
With the brutal clash imminent, everyone held their breath, gripping their sword hilts so tightly it seemed they could squeeze water from the leather wrappings.
"Attack."
Zhuge Yue lifted his head and issued the command with casual indifference. At the same moment he gave the order, an identical command was relayed through Zhao Yang's ranks.
The front-line cavalry drew their blades in unison. The synchronized sound of steel leaving scabbards echoed across the land, as crisp as a divine sneeze. A killing wind swept across the plain beneath the vast heavens. Condensed blood seemed to slide along the blade edges as they pointed toward the enemy, awaiting the life-and-death struggle.
Yet, at that very moment, a series of heavy hoofbeats suddenly sounded from the distant ancient road. Carried by the sharp northern wind, they pierced into the massive battlefield.
"Urgent military dispatch from three thousand li away! General Zhu from the southwest seeks reinforcements from the capital! Urgent military dispatch from three thousand li away! General Zhu from the southwest seeks reinforcements from the capital!"
The young messenger, covered in dust, charged into the battlefield like the wind. Under the astonished gazes of all present, he leaped from his horse and prostrated himself on the ground, crying out, "Generals! Your Highness! Stop fighting! There are reports from the southwest! Reports from the southwest!"
Tens of thousands fell silent simultaneously. No one responded to this audacious soldier who had suddenly rushed onto the battlefield.
"What are you saying?"
A deep voice slowly spoke up. As the supreme commander of the southwest forces, Zhao Yang stepped forward and asked solemnly, his soldiers all being natives of the southwestern regions.
"Your Highness! Your Highness, save us!"The soldier, upon seeing Zhao Yang, was overjoyed and quickly reported, "Yan Xun has led an army of four hundred thousand, breached the pass, and invaded our country. In just two days, they have swept through nineteen provinces, and the southwestern region has been reduced to scorched earth."
"Nonsense!" Yue Qi, gripping his war blade and clad in armor atop his horse, coldly retorted, "Wild Goose Cry Pass is defended by as many as three hundred thousand troops. How could Yan Xun have silently entered the southwestern territory?"
Everyone present echoed their agreement. Chu Qiao suppressed the shock in her heart and also found the matter illogical. Even though the country was embroiled in civil war, everyone knew the importance of Wild Goose Cry Pass and the threat from Yanbei. Neither Zhao Yang nor Zhao Che had withdrawn a single soldier from the pass. How could Yan Xun have broken through Wild Goose Cry Pass and invaded the heartland of Daxia in just a few days?
"Commander, Yanbei did not breach Wild Goose Cry Pass—it was Baizhi Pass!"
The scout lamented, "Biantang is in turmoil. The Jing'an Consort has raised the banner of rebellion, rallied the former troops of Jing'an Prince, and privately led soldiers to open the Tanghu Pass, allowing the Yanbei Army to enter Biantang. The southeastern defenders of Biantang have been completely destroyed, and the capital is in peril. Yanbei took the route through Biantang, joined forces with the Huai Song army, and attacked our Baizhi Pass. The southwestern defenders at Baizhi Pass had all been redeployed, leaving fewer than ten thousand troops. Moreover, the beacon towers were destroyed by spies of Lord Feng the Fourth inside the city, cutting off communication. Thus, in less than two days, the entire southwestern territory has fallen!"
In an instant, the field fell silent, so quiet one could hear a pin drop. The bleak northern wind swept softly across the petrified battlefield.
On the sixth day of the fourth month of the 882nd year of the Bai Cang calendar, a message as absurd as a joke struck everyone like a thunderbolt from a clear sky:
"On the third day of the fourth month, Yan Xun led four hundred thousand troops of the Yanbei Army, taking the route through Biantang, invaded Daxia. The entire southwestern territory has fallen, and approximately four million citizens have been reduced to conquered slaves."
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