Chapter 192: - Rebirth (Bing Hu Chong Sheng)

The scent of roses dissipated in the night breeze, leaving behind utter silence. She stood atop the high city wall, her gaze piercing through layers of cold armor to rest upon that person. The torrent of time rushed past her ears with a mournful howl, like a hurricane sweeping across the wilderness, roaring like an eagle soaring over mountain peaks.

The black war banner fluttered above Yan Xun’s head, while the night was as dark as thick ink. The sky pressed low, with no starlight or moonlight, only the blazing of thousands of torches casting a bloody glow upon faces. Yan Xun stood upon a golden war chariot, holding a golden bow, clad in black battle robes. His eyebrows were sharp as swords, slanting upward toward his temples. He lifted his head slightly, his slender eyes calmly fixed on the familiar figure from his memories.

The entire battlefield fell into a deathly silence. Everyone held their breath, save for the rhythmic beating of war drums, which echoed like the heart of the earth, striking against their spines and setting their blood ablaze.

Time seemed to freeze as they silently watched each other, their gazes intertwining and solidifying in mid-air.

Finally, the tide-like army surged forward, and the battle of life and death began.

In an instant, the cavalry drew their bows in unison. Amid the sharp whistling of the wind, arrows filled the sky, raining down upon the soldiers like a storm. Countless soldiers charged ahead, and from the very beginning, the battle revealed its terrifying brutality, sending chills down their spines.

Screams, wails, and commands mingled into a chaotic symphony.

Warhorses galloped wildly, rolling stones thundered, and gleaming blades flashed. Dark clouds veiled the cold moon, as if even heaven and earth had closed their eyes to the cruelty of the battle.

After a day and night of fierce fighting, the eastern gate suddenly opened. The Xiuli Army, having fought bitterly through the night, seized the moment when the Yanbei Army was reorganizing its formation and rode out of the city. They charged all the way to the banks of the Ironthread River, where the narrow path was ill-suited for a large-scale assault. The Yanbei Army had no choice but to abandon their horses and press forward on foot. However, by the time they reached the river, they saw the Xiuli soldiers inflating rafts made of sheepskin, preparing to cross the river at its most turbulent point.

"Your Majesty, be careful!"

"Commander, be careful!"

Almost simultaneously, Yan Xun and Chu Qiao raised their crossbows. Arrows shot through the void toward each other, and with two sharp clinks, the arrows did not miss their marks, eliciting gasps of shock from the guards around them.

On the river, Chu Qiao stood on the raft, gazing into the distance at Yan Xun.

She knew this confrontation was merely for show—Yan Xun could not truly stop her.

Yan Xun and the Princess of Jing'an were allies, and he had no choice but to guard the Han River for her. However, if the Princess of Jing'an were to successfully invade Tang Capital and place Jing'an Prince’s descendant on the throne, his own retreat would inevitably be cut off. Thus, he could not win this battle, but neither could he afford to lose disgracefully.

He still needed her to prolong this civil war in Biantang, to keep the gateway of Tanghu Pass open for him.

Rows of torches stretched across the river surface. The darkness before dawn was like a monstrous demon, thrusting its bloodthirsty claws into people’s eyes. The world was bathed in a bloody hue, and the wind howled, whipping up flames that danced wildly in the air.Yan Xun sat astride his horse, the warhorse restlessly pawing its hooves. His back remained ramrod straight, his entire being radiating the majestic authority of an emperor, like a deity from the dark world. His gaze was sharp and distant, crossing the wide river to rest upon the figure opposite—frail yet eternally resilient. The night wind stirred, lifting the hair at her temples. Her bloodstained armor glimmered under the firelight as she sat on her horse, silently watching him across the roaring river and blazing flames.

At that moment, the icy surface of Yan Xun's memories cracked open with a faint, audible sound. Chaotic images emerged from the turbulent waters, breaking through with a series of crisp, snapping noises.

How long ago was it? Too long, as if from a previous lifetime, so distant he could scarcely recall.

It was a night like this, the same deathly silence after slaughter, the same pair of eyes gazing quietly across the gentle river. The great fire of Zhenhuang City raged on, endless cries of battle echoing freely across the wilderness. In their youth, they had each resolutely turned away, heading in their own directions to pursue what they believed was right.

Perhaps, long, long ago, it had already been destined. They were like two meteors streaking in opposite directions—north and south. Though they might have briefly crossed paths due to various reasons, they were ultimately fated to part ways, traveling along their separate trajectories, growing ever more distant.

Chu Qiao stood on the riverbank, blade in hand, watching as the last army crossed the Han River. The vast river stretched like a fallen sky, dividing them east and west. Thousands of lives and souls sank into the great waters. Heaven and earth were a crucible, all beings the fuel, and upon the flames burned the blood and hopes of countless common people, along with their diametrically opposed beliefs. As she looked at Yan Xun, a thousand thoughts turned to dust in an instant. The hundred thousand armored troops vanished from her sight, leaving only the man in black robes standing arrogantly between heaven and earth, his eyes fierce as a wolf's—much like when he had risen from the Nine Nether platform years ago, each step leaving a bloody print. Though he stood alone, he carried a killing intent sufficient to destroy heaven and earth.

"Commander!"

Ping An rushed up, disheveled and with red-rimmed eyes, lifting his head to report, "In this battle, we lost over six thousand brothers."

Chu Qiao looked down to see the young man's face still smeared with dried blood. The child who had grown up in years of peace had now matured, his eyes no longer innocent after this baptism of blood.

"Ping An, achieving any goal comes at a cost."

The general of the Xiuli Army sat on his horse, silently watching the long line of torchlights. After a long while, he finally spoke in a low voice, "True peace must ultimately be obtained through war."

Ping An frowned, only half-understanding, and murmured, "True peace?"

"Yes. I may not live to see it, and perhaps you won't either, but in the end, someone will."Chu Qiao raised her head and cast one last glance toward the Han River's opposite bank. The great fire had gradually died down, with layers of gray smoke rolling across the river's surface. Far to the east along the horizon, a faint golden glow shimmered. That man wore a suit of black battle armor, his cloak flapping sharply in the night wind. Though she couldn't clearly see his features, she could vividly imagine his expression and silhouette—just like that afternoon many years ago when he sat on horseback and shot an arrow toward her, saving her life in that moment. From then on, she had accompanied him for ten years.

She reached out and grasped her right arm, where a dark iron armguard—impervious even to crossbow bolts—rested.

It was a gift from Zhao Song, one of a pair; she had given the other to him.

Resolutely, she turned away and merged into the surging army, whipping her horse forward without ever looking back at the road behind.

West of the Han River, Yan Xun turned his horse around. A subordinate general rushed forward and asked, "Your Majesty, shall we not pursue?"

Yan Xun remained silent, passing directly by the officer. Only after walking some distance did he calmly say, "Withdraw the troops."

The army retreated like a receding tide as the morning sun broke over the horizon, its rays quietly spreading across the land. The two armies moving in opposite directions grew increasingly distant from one another.

In the empty command tent, an armored general knelt on the ground. He had remained in that position for a long time. The sun gradually set, giving way to nightfall, plunging the tent into darkness. Only the golden sable fur embedded with Eastern pearls emitted a faint glow, vaguely illuminating the silhouette of a figure who stood like a mountain peak.

That person had not spoken a word. Since returning from the Iron Wire River, he had remained seated there, as if oblivious to everything around him. Outside the tent, green grass swayed gently in the night breeze, carrying the scent of hope. In Biantang, May was already midsummer, with clear and melodious cicada songs filling the night. The grass on the plains grew waist-high, and unknown insects drifted through the air, their wings emitting faint phosphorescent lights that twinkled like stars.

The tent was too quiet. The armored general dared not move, not even daring to breathe heavily or light a lamp. He was not one of the original veterans of the Yanbei Army, nor was he an old subordinate of the Yan Emperor. In truth, few of those who had followed the emperor in the early days remained. The current military leaders had all earned their positions through blood and steel. Although the emperor was gloomy and unpredictable, he rewarded and punished fairly and highly valued military achievements. As long as one dared to fight and kill, there was no fear of lacking opportunities for advancement.

The general's surname was Mu. His ancestors had been from a scholarly family, and though the family had declined by his generation, he was still literate and somewhat versed in military strategy. Relying on this knowledge, he had steadily risen through the ranks, becoming one of the foremost generals in the Yanbei Army within just a few years.Unlike others, the general believed His Majesty was not as tyrannical as the rumors suggested. Yes, he had killed his own teacher, his own sister, and the entire Datong Society that had supported him for years—but so what? Those involved might think His Majesty was ungrateful and curse him for his wolfish ambition, but ordinary people like them saw clearly: the Datong Society knew nothing of military affairs or governance, was entangled in internal strife, and factions fought fiercely for power. They had occupied Yanbei for years without achieving anything. With the Quanrong invading from the north and Daxia controlling the east, they were powerless to protect Yanbei’s subjects yet insisted on meddling in court politics. For such people, if His Majesty did not suppress them with thunderous means, they would only foster another chaotic Datong regime in Yanbei.

What did killing a few people matter to someone destined for greatness?

Since ancient times, which struggle for power had not been drenched in blood?

The difference between a successful emperor and an ordinary person lay in their perspective—whether they prioritized the bigger picture or personal sentiments.

Thus, General Mu held no fondness for the former General Xiuli. In his view, women simply could not achieve great deeds.

"Mu Wen," a deep voice suddenly echoed in the spacious tent, its faint reverberations lingering. Mu Wen straightened immediately upon hearing it, as the voice from above continued, "Send word to Cheng Yuan. Have him divide his forces to guard Songyuan Crossing tightly. Since the Xiuli Army is so eager to enter, let them. Prince Jing’an’s troops are still waiting inside."

"Yes."

"Also, tell him not to attack Zhao... focus all efforts on Zhao Che. Destroy his provisions at all costs, no matter the sacrifice."

"Yes."

General Mu promptly replied, "This subordinate will dispatch someone to Baizhi Pass to deliver the message."

Yan Xun shook his head, his features indistinguishable in the darkness. "No need. Go tomorrow morning. There’s no hurry."

Mu Wen froze slightly. Military affairs were urgent—how could there be no hurry? But since Yan Xun said so, he dared not argue, remaining silently on his knees.

"Come, have a drink with me."

Yan Xun hunched slightly, pouring wine under the faint glow of pearls, appearing somewhat disheveled and weary. Mu, overwhelmed by the honor, hurried forward with small steps, accepted the cup, and dared not sit.

Yan Xun gestured casually to a nearby seat. "Sit. Don’t just stand there."

Mu cautiously sat down, drained his cup in one go, and said, "Thank you, Your Majesty, for the wine."

Yan Xun also drank deeply. Mu promptly refilled his cup, hearing him chuckle softly, "It’s been a long time since anyone drank with me. In the past, circumstances forced me to abstain. Now that times are better, those who could drink with me are all gone."

Mu’s hand trembled slightly. He was clever—since Yan Xun ordered the halt in pursuing the Xiuli Army last night, he had sensed something amiss. Now, hearing these words, he felt he had overheard something he shouldn’t have.

"Come."

Yan Xun spoke casually, even lightly clinking his cup against Mu’s. The rich red wine spilled over his fingers, but he paid no mind. The fist-sized goblet held a large volume, yet he always drank it all in one go. Soon, more than half the jar was empty.Yan Xun was unusually talkative tonight, speaking more than he had in the past month combined. He inquired about the military rations in Mu's army, asked how many people were in his family, whether his parents were still alive and in good health, how many children he had, if he had received an education, how many wives he had married, and even jokingly asked whether the prostitutes in the military brothel were beautiful.

Mu was deeply shaken. Having never had the chance to meet Yan Xun before, everything he knew had been hearsay. Now, seeing him so approachable, he felt even more convinced that his initial choice had been correct. As for that woman who dared betray the emperor and defect to Biantang—she was simply ungrateful and foolish.

Silence returned to the grand tent, so profound that one could hear the distant, soft humming of Yanbei folk songs by the soldiers. The melodies drifted mournfully through the night air, circling again and again with a desolate chill. In the darkness, the man opened his eyes—their pitch-black depths clear and sober, without a trace of drunkenness.

Once again, he was alone.

Yan Xun casually made a remark, even going so far as to lightly clink his wine cup against Mu's. The rich red wine spilled over his fingers, but he paid it no mind. The fist-sized wine cup had a large capacity, yet he always drained it in one go. Before long, more than half of the wine jar had been consumed.

Yan Xun was unusually talkative tonight, speaking more than he had in the past month combined. He inquired about the military rations in Mu's army, asked how many people were in his family, whether his parents were still alive and in good health, how many children he had, if he had received an education, how many wives he had married, and even jokingly asked whether the prostitutes in the military brothel were beautiful.

Their conversation lasted until late into the night. When the night watch drum sounded three times, Yan Xun appeared somewhat drunk, reclining lazily on the couch and chatting idly until he gradually fell silent. Thinking he had fallen asleep, Mu picked up a brocade quilt nearby, covered him gently, and cautiously exited the grand tent.The great tent fell silent once more, so quiet that one could hear the distant soldiers softly humming the Yanbei folk songs, their melancholic melodies drifting through the night sky, carrying a desolate chill as they circled round and round. The man in the darkness opened his eyes, his pitch-black pupils clear as water, without a trace of drunkenness left.

"Alone again."

Yan Xun casually remarked, even picking up his wine cup to gently clink against Mu's. The rich red wine spilled over his fingers, but he paid it no mind. The fist-sized wine cup had a large capacity, yet he always drained it in one go. Before long, more than half the jug of wine had been consumed.

Yan Xun spoke more tonight than he had in the past month combined. He asked Mu about the army's provisions, how many people were in his family, whether his parents were still alive and in good health, how many children he had, if they had studied, how many wives he had married, and even jokingly inquired whether the prostitutes in the military brothel were beautiful.

Mu was profoundly shaken. Having never had the chance to meet Yan Xun before, everything he knew had been hearsay. Now, seeing him so approachable, he felt even more convinced that his initial choice had been correct. As for that woman who dared betray His Majesty and defect to Biantang, she was simply ungrateful.

Their conversation lasted until deep into the night. When the night watch drum sounded three times, Yan Xun seemed somewhat drunk, leaning half-reclined on the couch as he lazily made small talk before gradually falling silent. Thinking he had fallen asleep, Mu carefully took a brocade quilt from nearby to cover him, then quietly withdrew from the great tent.

The great tent fell silent once more, so quiet that one could hear the distant soldiers softly humming the Yanbei folk songs, their melancholic melodies drifting through the night sky, carrying a desolate chill as they circled round and round. The man in the darkness opened his eyes, his pitch-black pupils clear as water, without a trace of drunkenness left.

Yan Xun casually remarked, even picking up his wine cup to gently clink against Mu Lang's. The rich red wine spilled over his fingers, but he paid it no mind. The fist-sized wine cup had a large capacity, yet he always drained it in one go. Before long, more than half the jug of wine had been consumed.

Yan Xun spoke more tonight than he had in the past month combined. He asked Mu Lang about the army's provisions, how many people were in his family, whether his parents were still alive and in good health, how many children he had, if they had studied, how many wives he had married, and even jokingly inquired whether the prostitutes in the military brothel were beautiful.Mu Lang was profoundly shaken. Having never had the chance to meet Yan Xun before, everything he knew was hearsay. Now, seeing him so approachable, he felt even more convinced that his initial choice had been right. As for that woman who dared betray His Majesty and defect to Biantang—she was simply ungrateful.

Their conversation lasted until deep into the night. When the night watch drum sounded three times, Yan Xun seemed somewhat drunk, reclining lazily on the couch and chatting idly until he gradually fell silent. Thinking he had fallen asleep, Mu Lang picked up a brocade quilt nearby, covered him, and cautiously withdrew from the tent.

Yan Xun spoke casually, even lightly clinking his wine cup against Mu Lang’s. The rich red wine spilled onto his fingers, but he paid it no mind. The fist-sized wine vessel had a large capacity, yet he always drained it in one go. Before long, more than half of the jar of wine had been consumed.

Yan Xun was unusually talkative tonight, speaking more than he had in the past month combined. He asked Mu Lang about the army’s provisions, how many people were in his family, whether his parents were still alive and in good health, how many children he had, if they had studied, how many wives he had married, and even joked about whether the courtesans in the military brothel were beautiful.

Mu Lang was profoundly shaken. Having never had the chance to meet Yan Xun before, everything he knew was hearsay. Now, seeing him so approachable, he felt even more convinced that his initial choice had been right. As for that woman who dared betray His Majesty and defect to Biantang—she was simply ungrateful.

Before they knew it, their conversation had stretched deep into the night. The night watch drum sounded three times. Yan Xun seemed somewhat drunk, half-reclining on the couch as he lazily chatted about trivial matters, gradually falling silent. Mu Lang, assuming he had fallen asleep, picked up the brocade quilt nearby to cover him before cautiously exiting the grand tent.

Once again, he was alone.

All around was empty and cold, without a soul in sight. The wind howled outside—though it should have carried the warmth of spring, for some reason, it seeped into the tent with a chilling edge. He lay alone on the spacious soft couch, wrapped in brocade quilts and luxurious furs, resting on a jade pillow beneath pearl-adorned curtains. The coiled incense in the burner spiraled upward in layers, its light and pleasant fragrance filling the tent. Inhaling it brought a soothing effect to the mind.

Yet, despite such opulent comfort and the tranquil spring night, he remained utterly alone. It was just like that night many years ago, when she was taken away, boarding a massive ship and sailing south. He had stood on the northern gate tower of Beishuo, watching the vessel vanish like a white ribbon across the snow-blanketed wilderness, the landscape stark as iron. In the end, she had slipped from his grasp and left him.

In truth, he had foreseen this outcome long ago, even in his childhood.

She had always been righteous and kind-hearted. No matter how dire the circumstances or how deep the difficulties, even when covered in wounds, she never abandoned her hopes and expectations for the future. At first, it was he who constantly encouraged her, but gradually, it became she who supported him. She painted their future for him, shared her ideals and ambitions, and discussed her political views and aspirations with him. No matter what crises they faced, she always found a way to persevere, teaching him swordsmanship and archery, military strategy and governance. Though Wu Daoya was nominally his teacher, what he learned from her far surpassed any other source.

She was his mentor and confidante, his family and pillar of support—the only woman he had ever loved in this lifetime.

Yet, the more this was so, the more uneasy he felt, increasingly anxious and fearful. At some point, he suddenly realized that one day they might part ways, that one day she would leave him.

When did it begin?

Perhaps when she showed compassion for slaves, or when her relationship with Zhao Song grew increasingly close, or when she explained to him her vision of a stable and prosperous future society. Maybe it was even earlier—he couldn’t quite recall. He only vaguely knew that someday in the future, he would inevitably disappoint her, hurt her, and shatter that precious trust and reliance.

And so, he schemed to marginalize her, to distance her from military and political affairs. He didn’t want her to see the blood on his hands, to witness the ruthlessness and cruelty he employed to achieve his goals.

He was not a hunter who clipped the wings of a white eagle, but rather a night owl destined to roam in the darkness. When the long eternal night passed and the world began to distinguish between light and shadow, he grew afraid.

A low chuckle echoed in the darkness, his eyes tinged with a faint intoxication. He suddenly remembered his childhood, the insecure youth repeatedly asking:

"Will you always be with me?"

The girl smiled brightly, tilting her head to ask him: "Will you bully me?"

Will you bully me? Will you bully me? Will you?Closing her eyes, the crisp sound suddenly rang out. Yan Xun unfastened the buckle on his right arm, and the silver dark iron armguard slipped off, falling to the ground. The faint pearl light shone upon it, glimmering like colored glaze.

It was a gift from Zhao Song—a pair, of which she had given one to him. He had worn it for over a decade.

"When I decided to set out, I knew you could never belong to me in this lifetime. You were born for the light, while I carry too many blood-soaked ambitions. That’s why I wanted you to submit to me, obey me, and follow me for life. But in the end, I still failed."

He laughed silently in the darkness.

Every goal achieved comes at a price—and he had already paid his.

"No one wishes to live an ordinary life. The question is, when an opportunity presents itself, do you truly dare to seize it?"

In the darkness, the man’s voice was low and hoarse, like that of an elder who had lived through several lifetimes. He lay on a golden fur couch, fine wine spilling across the table, its intoxicating fragrance filling the air. Dressed in brocade robes and splendid attire, he silently curled his lips in the dark, his smile as innocent as a child’s.

"Zhuge Yue, do you dare to take it?"

"I cannot do it."

Zhuge Yue looked at the man before him, his gaze resolute, his tone calm and steady as he spoke.

Zhuge Mu Qing’s hair was streaked with white, his face wrinkled like chicken skin. In just a few short years, all the youth had been drained from this old man. He was like a stagnant pool of water, devoid of any vitality, his eyes bloodshot with a final, desperate madness as he stared at his son.

"Zhao Che has already been defeated in battle, and Zhao Yang won’t hold out much longer. Right now, you are the only one in all of Daxia who can turn the tide. If our Zhuge family abandons Zhao Yang now, he will surely collapse in defeat. When that happens, you need only raise your arm and call, and the world will rally to your side. You will become the foremost figure in Daxia. In ten years, our Zhuge clan will crush Yanbei and ascend to the supreme throne!"

Zhuge Mu Qing’s eyes were bloodshot, like a frenzied beast, fixed intently on his son. He grabbed Zhuge Yue’s shoulders and shouted, "Yue’er, the future and destiny of Daxia, the fate of our Zhuge clan—it all rests on your decision!"

Zhuge Yue quietly regarded his father, remaining silent for a long time.

His father had aged. He was no longer the far-sighted, decisive leader of the family he once was. He had become vain, foolish, and mad.

Throughout his life, Zhuge Yue had never been particularly close to his father. From a very young age, he had lost his mother. In his childhood, he wandered alone through the vast Zhuge mansion, as quiet as the shadow of a tree. It wasn’t until he grew older and gradually distinguished himself among his peers through his own efforts that this father, who had too many wives and too many sons, began to pay him any attention.

But later, he fell, was wounded, and barely survived a near-death experience. Yet the family ruthlessly cast him aside.

Even after he regained power and brought renewed glory to the family, they still chose his elder brother and sought to destroy him. Such was his family, his kin.

And yet, he could not bring himself to hate them completely.As Wei Shu Ye had said, no matter how much they loathed and rejected it, they were ultimately scions of noble houses. Since childhood, they had enjoyed all the glory brought by their family status, and likewise, they needed to bear the responsibilities that came with it.

He was, after all, his father—the one who had given him life, raised him, taught him, rejoiced in his achievements, and taken pride in his progress. Though he had once been ruthless and cruel, he had still provided him with a peaceful and prosperous childhood. When he was too young to protect himself, his father had stood before him, shielding him and safeguarding the entire family.

"Father, I cannot do it."

Zhuge Yue took a step back, bowed his head to his father, and offered a deep, formal salute.

"A person's hands are only so big; they cannot hold everything."

The candle flame crackled, its light casting a pale golden glow on his face. He gazed calmly at his elderly father and said quietly, "I am grateful for your nurturing kindness, Father, but this matter—I cannot do it."

"If Daxia loses me, there are other generals. If you lose me, Father, you have other sons. But if Xing'er loses me, she will have no hope left."

He bowed once more, his eyes steady and his expression serene as he faced the father who had given him life, raised him, abandoned him, and tried to have him killed.

"Father, take care of yourself."

Zhuge Yue turned and walked away. The candlelight illuminated his retreating figure, making him appear tall and resolute. Zhuge Mu Qing stared blankly at his son, his eyes ashen, his lips slightly parted, and his hands still frozen in the gesture of gripping his shoulders.

In that moment, he suddenly realized that perhaps from this day forward, he would lose this son forever.

Lose this son whom he had held in high regard, on whom he had pinned great hopes, yet who had repeatedly failed to meet his expectations—the son he had whipped, abandoned, expelled from the family, and sent assassins to kill.

The wheel of time flowed between this father and son. The wind blew in from outside the tent, lifting his graying hair and sweeping over his stooped back. Suddenly, he seemed to have aged, stretching out his hand in vain, unable to pull back the mercilessly passing years.

Zhuge Yue walked away step by step, slowly. He knew that once he turned his back, there would be no return. Beyond this door, everything would descend into blood, bones, and flames—families torn apart, loved ones separated, homes destroyed, and empires overthrown. Yet, he would press on unwaveringly. He would use all the bloodshed in this world to show her what truly mattered to him.

Not royal ambitions, not a place in history, not standing alone at the pinnacle to gaze down upon all living beings.

All he wanted was for her to live, to live well, in a place where he could see her.

Because there was something he wanted to protect, he had repeatedly told himself to grow stronger. But if what he sought to protect was gone, what meaning would there be in all he had done?

In this lifetime, he would never do anything he would regret.

The tent flap was lifted aside. His feet stepped into the moonlit military camp, and the cold wind brushed against his face, bringing with it an unprecedented clarity.

A kingdom could be abandoned and reclaimed; an army could be scattered and reformed. But once a person died, they could not be brought back to life.

Zhao Che's parting words echoed once more in his ears: "Recognize what you truly want, and live for yourself for once."His friend, betrayed by his own brothers, caught between enemies on all sides, forced into a continuous retreat—yet still traveled thousands of miles under such circumstances just to see him, all to say these words that held little bearing on the grand scheme of things.

The troops outside the camp had already assembled, everyone standing ready in full gear. Zhuge Yue took a deep breath, strode forward, and swung himself onto his horse.

"Move out!"

Grass and weeds flew as hooves thundered, swiftly carrying them toward the distant ancient land of Biantang.

The vast empire, the illustrious imperial power—everything lay before his eyes.

It wasn’t that he didn’t dare, but that he didn’t want to.

At the northernmost pass, even though it was already May, the land remained blanketed in endless snow. The biting northern wind howled intermittently, striking people’s faces like icy blades.

"Let’s go."

Zhao Che gave Wei Shu Ye a faint smile, his expression still radiating confidence even in such dire straits.

Wei Shu Ye, gaunt and worn, looked up at the still self-assured Zhao Che, unable to suppress a wave of doubt.

Yan Xun had gone mad, launching raids to plunder provisions, recklessly expending troops through human-wave tactics. Zhao Yang, having suffered minimal losses in the battle against Yanbei, had foolishly chosen this moment to attack Zhao Che’s rear forces and cut off Zhuge Yue’s supply lines, plunging Zhao Che into a crisis. With his forces severely depleted, Zhao Che lost thirteen central provinces.

By the time they mustered their strength for a counterattack, they were already surrounded on all sides, with no hope of turning the tide.

That day, Zhao Che stood silently amidst the ruins for a long time. The battle-hardened prince and general finally lowered his sword in defeat and turned to him, saying, "We’ve lost."

That day, every officer following him wept—even he, the proud scion of a noble house, shed tears of bitter resentment.

It wasn’t that they lacked the chance for victory, nor the strength to reclaim their glory. They had fought their way through, traversing a land steeped in despair and desolation, armed with the resolve and courage to face death at any moment.

Yet, they still lost.

Not on the battlefield against their enemies, but to the treachery of their own kin in the imperial court.

They faced the most formidable enemy in history, yet also confronted the most decadent and weakened homeland in a century.

The young prince lifted his head. His warhorse pawed restlessly at the ground. The northern pass stretched out in a world of silver, the earth and sky buried under heavy snow. Beyond this pass, it would no longer be the land of Daxia—only swirling sands and endless deserts, with no more banners of Daxia flying.

Gazing at the sky, he said calmly, "The Zhao Clan will not perish. Wherever the sun rises, there will be descendants of Zhao!"

He spurred his horse and cracked his whip, leading thousands of troops by his side. Across countless mountain passes, the snow shimmered like silver.

Zhao Che’s fists clenched like iron, his eyes sharp as blades. His lips moved slightly, but his words were firm: "I will return—"

"Commander!"

He Xiao suddenly roared, his eyes blazing red. "I do not agree!"

"Commander He, this is an order!"

At the strategic pass of Tang Capital, Chu Qiao stood clad in armor, staring at her most trusted subordinate as she spoke each word with deliberate gravity.

"Commander, you should escort the Tang Emperor out of the city. Allow me to stay behind."

Yet, they still lost.They were not defeated on the battlefield against the enemy, but by the treachery of internal strife.

They faced the most formidable enemy in history, yet also confronted the most decadent homeland in a century.

The young prince lifted his head as his warhorse restlessly pawed the ground. The northern pass was blanketed in silver-white, heaven and earth covered in heavy snow. Beyond this pass lay no more land of Daxia—only rolling dust storms and endless wilderness, with no more banners of Daxia flying.

Gazing at the sky, he said quietly, "The Zhao Clan will not perish. Wherever the sun rises, there will be descendants of the Zhao Clan."

He spurred his horse and whipped the reins, thousands of troops following at his side. Across ten thousand mountain passes, the snow shimmered like silver.

Zhao Che’s fists clenched like iron, his eyes sharp as blades. His lips moved slightly, voiceless yet resolute: "I will return—"

"Commander!"

He Xiao suddenly roared, his eyes bloodshot. "I do not agree."

"Commander He, this is an order."

On the mighty walls of Tang Capital, Chu Qiao, clad in armor, looked at her most trusted subordinate and spoke each word with deliberate gravity.

"Commander, you escort the Tang Emperor out of the city. Let me stay behind."

The sounds of killing echoed right beneath their feet, the thunderous hooves rumbling like a storm. The forces led by the Princess of Jing'an outnumbered them tenfold. Thousands of cavalry charged wildly, launching wave after wave of assaults on Tang Capital City, like a mountain flood or a tidal surge—unstoppable.

Chu Qiao said coldly, "Can you do it?"

He Xiao frowned and immediately declared loudly, "I swear to the death—"

"Even if you die, you cannot accomplish it."

Chu Qiao's tone suddenly turned sharp. He Xiao’s face instantly turned ashen, and just as he was about to speak, Chu Qiao continued, "Tang Capital is now besieged on all sides, with Yan Xun’s hundreds of thousands of troops forming a second layer of blockade outside. The armies of Biantang have been thoroughly intimidated—no one will come to our aid. Our army is the only punitive force left in the nation, and all enemy attention is fixed on me. As long as I remain atop these walls, they will not dare to divide their forces to pursue. But if I leave, they will abandon the assault on Tang Capital and focus entirely on chasing us. Then, with no city to defend, caught between the Yanbei Army ahead and the Jing'an Army behind, we will die even more miserably!"

How could He Xiao not have considered this? He listened with a furrowed brow, gritting his teeth, not saying a word.

"He Xiao, I beg you—take them and escape. In this life, I have received immense kindness from Li Ce, kindness I can never repay. Today, I cannot protect his kingdom, but at the very least, I can protect his descendants."

He Xiao’s expression was desolate, his eyes fixed intently on Chu Qiao. Suddenly, he said, "Commander, send someone else. Let me stay by your side to protect you."

Chu Qiao shook her head and said softly, "I cannot trust anyone else."

He Xiao looked at Chu Qiao, his gaze burning like fiery magma.

Years of sharing life and death, years of standing shoulder to shoulder—they had spent more time together than with anyone else. And that once budding affection had, over time, transformed into something akin to family.

This woman before him—she was strong, she was brave, she was kind, she was sincere. Of course, she could also be timid, lost, and fragile, weeping bitterly in his embrace. They were comrades, friends, family. She was both his superior and his younger sister.The blazing firelight illuminated their faces. He Xiao suddenly reached out and embraced her, his voice low as if chewing on blood: "Take care!"

"You take care too!"

The soldier turned and leaped onto his warhorse. Li Xiuyi shouted at Chu Qiao: "Aunt! Aunt!"

He Xiao shielded the child in his arms, not glancing at her again, and charged out through the southern gate with a group of elite troops. Simultaneously, the eastern and western gates swung wide open as soldiers surged out to engage the enemy in close combat.

"Archers, ready!"

He Xiao roared: "Fire!"

The vast wilderness became like a meat grinder, mercilessly consuming soldiers' lives. Spears and sabers glinted with bloodthirsty light as tens of thousands of hooves thundered across the land like rolling drums.

Standing on the city wall, Chu Qiao watched this deadly battle, all her memories flashing through her mind.

Having lived two lives, she had done many things and met many people. Some deeds were right, some wrong; some people she had missed, others she had failed. Yet no matter the circumstances, she had never abandoned her convictions.

Life became increasingly clear at this moment. Closing her eyes, the figures from her past emerged one by one - those she had loved, hated, failed, and hurt - ultimately coalescing into a graceful silhouette standing at a ship's bow, robes fluttering in the cold drizzle, turning back with clear, cold eyes that held profound attachment.

"I love you."

She whispered into the fierce wind that swept through her hair. The world was bathed in crimson as wave after wave of armored soldiers surged forward, relentlessly battering the ancient city gates with deafening impacts.

Her hand rested on her slightly swollen abdomen, where life's hope sustained her, giving her courage to stand here without fear or weakness, to be strong as a mother.

The road was so far - he would never hear.

Smiling, she lifted her face to the clear sky: "I love you—"

But ultimately, I cannot stay with you.

The sky's profound blue stung her eyes, a tear tracing down her temple into her cold helmet, soaking into her thick hair.

Drawing her war blade, she watched all enemy forces charge toward her position. He Xiao's troops had already broken through the flank, their battle cries roaring like thunder. The white banner with red clouds fluttered overhead, its vivid crimson stark against the swirling yellow dust like a hopeful red sun.

She turned, her gaze sweeping over the young soldiers.

These were the renowned Xiuli Army, though few original faces remained. Through these years, this iron-willed force had followed her across countless battles spanning the entire Ximeng Continent, never retreating or showing fear.

The Battle of Zhenhuang, the Northwest Campaign, the Chidu Conflict, the Beishuo Struggle, the Thousand Zhang Lake Engagement, the Fire Thunder Plain Clash, the Dragon's Roar Pass Siege, the Tang Capital Offensive, the Baizhi Pass Defense, the Ironwire River Confrontation...

For seven years, this army had demonstrated their loyalty to all Ximeng Continent through fierce combat achievements - transcending nations and factions, fighting not for any ruler, but for her, and for their own conscience.

Batch after batch of soldiers fell, yet more pressed forward with relentless determination. Even if they held no deep affection for the nation they defended, even if their homelands lay thousands of miles away, even if they had no inkling of what fate awaited them ahead—one reason alone sufficed, one person’s command was enough. As long as that person stood before them, their loyalty remained as unyielding as cold iron beneath a frozen lake, unshaken even if mountains crumbled and snow turned to ash.

There were no rousing speeches, no need to bolster morale. The young woman removed her helmet, her dark hair flowing in the wind, eyes gleaming like morning stars. She smiled faintly at her soldiers and raised her battle blade.

"Fight for freedom!"

Two thousand warriors of the Xiuli Army roared their battle cry.

A dull, thunderous crash echoed as if the earth itself had been struck, followed by the frenzied cheers of countless voices.

The millennia-old gates of Tang Capital City had finally fallen.

Enemies flooded in like a tidal wave.

The wind howled, the clamor of battle drawing near. Chu Qiao’s voice rang clear, "You go ahead. I will follow."

"Commander, this general will lead the way!"

A officer laughed heartily as he leaped onto his horse, brandishing his sword and shouting, "Fight for freedom!"

Raising his saber, he charged forward. The Xiuli Army soldiers followed, hurling themselves against the enemy’s massive formation like an infant challenging a towering giant.

"Kill!!!" Piercing battle cries filled the world.

Under the setting sun, across the desolate plains, iron cavalry surged, blades rising like mountains. A bleak wind swept past as unyielding warriors raised their sabers, charging wave after wave into the onslaught.

The entire Tang Capital City was engulfed in endless warfare. A century ago, the rose war banners of Great Tang had once covered all lands under heaven, unifying the realms with vast territories. The will of Great Tang had once dominated this world. Yet now, as Chu Qiao gazed upon the chaotic battlefield—shattered armor, tattered banners, majestic palaces veiled in layers of smoke, death’s aura swallowing the elegant streets, her ears filled with the whinnies of dying warhorses and the wails of common folk...

She lifted her head, looking westward where a crimson sun slowly descended beyond the horizon.

Those warriors who marched to their deaths with fervor, those whose hot blood would never congeal, those men whose names would never grace the pages of history—they now rested eternally upon this vast land. Though they had given their all, they could not halt the empire’s decline.

The glory and splendor of history, the honor and dreams accumulated over millennia—today, right here, she would witness with her own eyes the complete downfall of this great empire, its thorough descent into ruin.

The setting sun cast its light upon her pale face. She took a deep breath and slowly closed her eyes, once more envisioning those fox-like eyes.

Li Ce, I’ve done all I could.

In this world, perhaps not every action you take is absolutely right, but in those moments, you had no other choice.

Zhuge Yue, farewell.

Another wave of rope ladders was thrown up, countless enemies swarming like locusts. Chu Qiao cast aside her scabbard and charged forward, blade in hand.

"Protect the commander!"

Warriors of the Xiuli Army rushed to form a protective barrier before her.The Xiuli Army at the foot of the city, clad in black armor, held their dense forest of war blades level and advanced in assault formation, fearlessly charging toward the enemy forces. The sky was dark and gloomy as the sun gradually sank behind the mountains, casting a blood-red glow over the land that reflected eerily off the soldiers' faces. The ground was soaked in blood, and the deafening roar of battle cries filled the air. Everyone’s eyes were wide open as they swung their blades with all their might.

A flood of iron cavalry covered the area below the city walls. The dark, overwhelming army surged like a collapsing mountain, their hooves thundering and the earth trembling. The battle-crazed soldiers stood firm like towering peaks—they were an army that defied all odds. Once, at the gates of Beishuo City, they had defended against Daxia’s million-strong allied forces despite being outnumbered, refusing to retreat even a single step. At Dragon's Roar Pass, they had stood shoulder to shoulder in a line, holding back Zhao Yang’s mighty iron cavalry.

"Kill!"

Heaven-shaking roars drowned out all other sounds—the agonized whinnies of warhorses, the clashing of weapons. Waves of soldiers surged forward, clashing with these warriors who faced death without fear. Iron armor blanketed the ground, and smoke from signal fires rose to the sky. War blades hacked and slashed, sending blood, flesh, and limbs flying through the air like straw swept up by a typhoon. Young bodies fell in droves, their sturdy armor crushed beneath trampling hooves, mangled into mud under countless stomping feet.

A dark rain of arrows blotted out the last traces of light. Enemy soldiers in the front ranks were pierced through before they could even scream. Cries of agony, blood, death, severed limbs—panicked crowds trampled one another, warhorses whinnied in despair, yet none could escape the cold, ubiquitous spears. Death was everywhere. Bloodthirsty blades gleamed with a sinister red as the soldiers fought with frenzied eyes, forgetting everything except the motion of hacking and slashing. Killing one enemy was breaking even; killing two was a profit. People screamed and wailed. The wounded fell to the ground, only to have their skulls crushed by the horses behind them before they could rise, blood splattering and brains spilling out.

It was a terrifying nightmare, ensnaring everyone within it, with no escape.

The city walls had been breached, yet the enemy forces struggled to push through. A fierce melee erupted at the city gates, where piled corpses formed a makeshift barricade. Chu Qiao stood among the crowd, her blade in hand, her armor stained crimson with blood. Her breathing was heavy, but her swordplay grew only more fierce and precise.

Every moment she delayed bought He Xiao more time to flee.

The sky grew darker as night fully descended, and battle cries echoed from all directions. Chu Qiao suddenly felt overwhelmingly weary. Her movements lost their agility, and even her offensive power diminished significantly.

Yes, she was a mother now. Even knowing death was almost certain today, she still fought desperately to protect her belly.

An enemy soldier, noticing her exhaustion, crept up from her flank. Suddenly, in the firelight, he caught sight of her delicate features and distinctive armor. The soldier froze, then instantly recognized her identity. His mouth fell open, as if he were about to shout for reinforcements.

"Ah—"A long, piercing scream suddenly rang out. Blood splattered everywhere as the man had no time to even dodge. The blade descended upon him with unbelievable speed and force. In the next second, his body fell heavily, split in two from the right shoulder, adding another brick to the man-made city gate.

The enemy troops outside the gate were stunned. They stood there, staring blankly at Chu Qiao.

Chu Qiao stood with a battle knife in hand. At this moment, her ears became unusually sharp—she could hear the wind blowing, the sound of blood flowing, the fearful breaths of those men, and the rhythmic trembling of the earth.

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

She was so exhausted, weary enough to close her eyes. Overwhelming darkness surged from all directions.

Just fall. Don’t push yourself anymore.

He Xiao must have escaped far by now. He will lead the Tang Emperor to find Sun Di, who has gone to seek reinforcements, and protect Li Ce’s bloodline.

It’s useless. Don’t hold on any longer. Sleep for a while. It’s enough.

Her legs grew weak, her head began to spin.

But just then, the enemy’s assault suddenly receded like a tide. Urgent gong sounds came from the opposing army formation, and messengers were shouting something, but it was too far away to make out. Bright torches waved incessantly, as if signaling something.

Panic! Utter panic!

"My lady?"

A surviving soldier looked at Chu Qiao in confusion. She froze for a moment, then suddenly seemed to understand. Without a word, she turned and sprinted toward the city wall.

"My lady! Reinforcements are here!"

Before she could reach the top, a messenger stumbled down and knelt before her, his face flushed with excitement, shouting, "Reinforcements are here!"

Chu Qiao paid him no mind and rushed up the city tower. The tower was in an uproar—everyone was clapping and celebrating, embracing one another, erupting in thunderous cheers.

Beyond the horizon, an iron-gray dragon appeared, faint as a slender stream. But in an instant, the stream expanded, surged past the horizon, and converged into a vast ocean. Countless soldiers, wielding wolf blades and clad in blue armor, charged forth with an overwhelming, storm-like momentum—thousands upon thousands of them.

"Kill!!!"

"It’s the Qinghai Army!"

Someone roared first, and soon after, everyone crowded together. Soldiers hugged each other and wept, while those who had narrowly escaped death cheered loudly at the distant reinforcements. The Qinghai Army echoed them with deafening battle cries.

"My lady, we’re saved! Great Tang is saved!"

The wolf army commander, covered in blood, rushed up and excitedly shouted to Chu Qiao, "The King of Qinghai has brought troops!"

But Chu Qiao did not respond. Amid the firelight, the dust-covered woman stood silently, her battle knife hanging at her side, motionless. Only her tears fell quietly.

By the Han River.

Even from such a distance, the Yanbei warriors could still hear the relentless sounds of slaughter coming from the east.

Mu Lang hurried forward and said to Yan Xun, who sat atop his horse, "Your Majesty, it is time to depart."

Yan Xun nodded silently but did not move. He gazed long at the raging flames in the east, his expression inscrutable and profound.He had come after all. For some reason, the tightly drawn string in her heart suddenly snapped, leaving only a faint, hollow echo.

Perhaps, deep down, he hadn’t wanted her to die either.

Yet, he still wished he hadn’t come.

Throughout history, the choice between power and love had always been an impossible dilemma.

What he couldn’t let go of, others could ultimately release.

"Your Majesty, after Zhuge Yue departed, our forces launched an assault on Yanming Pass. General Lu has now breached the gate."

"Your Majesty, Zhao Che has fled north with his remaining defeated troops. General Cheng Yuan pursued them in victory and has occupied the eight northeastern provinces."

"Your Majesty, only Zhao Yang’s army remains within Daxia’s borders, currently stationed near Fangcun Mountain."

"Your Majesty—"

Suddenly, Yan Xun could hear nothing. All that echoed in his ears was a crisp, youthful voice from many years ago. A girl with a radiant smile gazed at him, stood on her tiptoes, and lightly tapped his chest with her delicate finger as she asked, "Will you bully me?"

Will you bully me?

Will you?

A fierce wind howled, and two War Eagles circled overhead, letting out sharp cries.

He turned back, his mind sharpening.

Others had already made their choices. It was time for him to follow the path he had long decided upon, no matter what fate lay ahead. In the end, it was a road Yan Xun had chosen for himself.

A human life spans but a hundred years, fleeting as a white steed’s shadow across a crack. There is no room for lingering affections, no room for hesitation or doubt, no room for looking back in regret.

He repeated the ancestral teachings of the Yan Clan over and over in his heart, recalling the scenes from years past—his parents expelled from the Zhao Clan’s registry, his father and brothers slaughtered on the Yanbei plateau.

From this day forward, the eight million li of Daxia’s land would fly the banner of Yanbei’s War Eagle. All living beings under heaven would bow at my feet. My will shall spread across this vast land. I will become the new ruler of this realm. Such magnificent achievements—how could they be compared to a mere woman? I do not regret it. I will never regret it!

Yan Xun urged his horse forward, leading the army at the very front. Thousands of soldiers followed behind him, like a surging ocean.

Mu Lang stood far behind, watching the King of Yanbei gradually recede into the distance. Suddenly, this young general felt that their emperor was profoundly alone. Darkness swallowed all the light around him, leaving only his unwavering back, sharp and imposing like a battle spear.

Inside Tang Capital City, cheers and clamor filled the air.

Chu Qiao stood before the city gate, with countless civilians and soldiers behind her.

Zhuge Yue dismounted, covered in the dust of his journey. His dark blue cloak was stained with blood, now blackened.

"What are you doing here?"

"Coming to reclaim what belongs to me."

Chu Qiao’s eyes reddened gradually. She pressed her lips together, holding back the sting of tears, stepped forward, and lightly punched his chest as she whispered, "Fool."

Zhuge Yue reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace, smiling as he said, "Xing’er, come back to Qinghai with me."

Chu Qiao buried her face in his chest, tears streaming down, soaking his robes.

The morning sun warmed them to the bone. He held her hand firmly, warm and resolute, as if he would never let go.

Her tears fell freely as she nodded vigorously in his arms.

She rose on her toes, leaning close to his ear, her voice soft yet brimming with boundless joy."Zhuge Yue, I'm pregnant."

The world was so vast, time so fleeting. What needed to end had finally ended, while the future still shimmered with boundless radiance ahead. Though the path forward remained unpredictable, at this moment they leaned against each other, their smiles as warm as spring sunshine, bringing all things to life.

(The End)