The birthplace of Daxia lies on the eastern bank of Hongchuan in the upper reaches of the Heng River. Since the time of their ancestors, the people have lived a nomadic lifestyle, following water and pasture, with a martial culture that fostered fierce and strong warriors. The harsh, bitter cold of the Xia lands constrained the development of its people, and frequent incursions by the Quanrong further plagued the borders. For millennia, the Xia struggled to survive on this unforgiving land east of Hongchuan. It was only with the emergence of Pei Luo Zhenhuang and the establishment of the Daxia regime that this nation, which had battled against fate, found respite and growth.
Nearly every word of Daxia's history is written in blood and tears. Their nomadic nature fostered a detachment from the land, which, to some extent, gave them a more inclusive and tolerant attitude toward racial issues compared to the southern Biantang and the eastern Huai Song. Over centuries, the Xia continuously migrated westward, living and clashing with other ethnic groups, steadily expanding their territory. Today, they have quietly surpassed Biantang, with its three-thousand-year history, and the commercially prosperous Huai Song, becoming the continent's foremost military power.
Rising with the tide, the imposing Zhenhuang City, standing majestically on the plains of Hongchuan, has become the economic and political center of the entire continent. Tall buildings stand shoulder to shoulder, merchants and travelers come and go, and the streets are bustling with splendor. Nobles from various nations and wealthy merchants throng the main streets, creating a scene of immense liveliness.
The first long bell of the morning rang out, its sound distant and resonant, spreading far and wide. The city gates slowly opened to the chime, and under the shining sun, a new day in Zhenhuang City began once again, unfolding steadily under the empire's iron order.
"Hyah!"
A sharp cry suddenly pierced the air as a black steed raised its snow-white hooves, trampling the snowy ground outside Zhenhuang City. Snowflakes flew, and the clattering hoofbeats left more than ten attendants far behind.
"Young Master Yan, you're late!"
Zhuge Huai laughed heartily, urging his horse forward as he greeted the newcomer with a smile. His voice was warm and his expression spring-like, his eyes half-squinted with a shrewd gleam. Dressed in a luxurious purple robe embroidered with gold and silver thread depicting carps, and draped in a silver-jade sable cloak from Mount Cangwu, he appeared even more dignified and elegant, exuding a charm beyond his years. Though only fifteen or sixteen, he possessed an extraordinary grace and wisdom that belied his youth.
Beside him stood four other youths, the youngest around eleven or twelve and the eldest no more than thirteen or fourteen. All were clad in fine brocade robes, surrounded by attendants, their features handsome and their bearing exceptional. At his words, they turned in unison to look at the approaching figure.
Yan Xun reined in his horse, letting out a soft command. The fiery Xunlie Yuan snow-hoofed steed abruptly reared up with a loud whinny before settling steadily on the snowy plain. Clad in a deep purple robe and a snow-white long cloak, Yan Xun said calmly, "When I received Brother Zhuge's message, the Eighth Princess was at my residence. It was quite difficult to slip away. I've kept you all waiting."
"So it was a rendezvous with a beauty. It seems we've interrupted Young Master Yan's delightful pastime," said a young boy in a pine-green brocade robe, stepping forward. His voice still carried a soft, childish tone, and he appeared no older than eleven or twelve. With eyes curved like a fox's, he smiled slyly.
Yan Xun's expression remained impassive as he replied, "Young Lord Jing, you jest. If it weren't for you causing me to break the princess's glass cup at the state banquet the day before yesterday, I wouldn't have encountered such an unexpected stroke of fortune today. In truth, I have you to thank for it all."The young lord chuckled softly, not taking offense, and turned to another youth in a dark cyan robe nearby. "See, Mu Yun? I told you Young Master Yan wouldn't let this go. He's bound to argue with me about it."
Mu Yun raised an eyebrow slightly. "Haven't enough people in the imperial city suffered at your hands? Young Master Yan is good-tempered. If it were me, I'd have stormed your residence the night before last."
"Are we going to compete or not? If you just want to chat, we might as well go back."
A youth in black brocade robes stepped forward, a bright yellow imperial bow hanging at his waist. Yan Xun seemed to notice him only then, dismounting and bowing respectfully. "So the Seventh Prince is here as well. Please forgive Yan Xun for my earlier oversight."
Zhao Che glanced sideways at Yan Xun, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly in acknowledgment, then spoke directly to Zhuge Huai. "The Eighth Prince and I have to attend the Imperial Study Hall for dinner later. We don't have much time to spare."
Zhuge Huai smiled. "Since Young Master Yan has arrived, let's begin."
Prince Jing clapped his hands cheerfully. "What novelty has Zhuge prepared this time? Show me quickly."
Zhao Jue remarked, "I see a bunch of animal cages over there. Zhuge, you didn't invite us here for hunting, did you? That would be rather dull."
Zhuge Huai shook his head mysteriously. "I've put considerable effort into today's entertainment. Just watch." With that, he lightly clapped his hands twice. The crisp sound echoed far across the pale snowfield.
The empty enclosure fenced off in the distance was opened. Zhuge Huai's attendants pushed six large carts into the arena, lining up six massive cages covered entirely with black cloth, revealing nothing of their contents.
Prince Jing said with interest, "What's inside? Zhuge, stop keeping us in suspense."
Zhuge Huai grinned and waved to his attendants in the distance. With a swift rustle, all the black cloths were pulled off simultaneously. Prince Jing gasped softly, momentarily stunned, then broke into a delighted laugh.
Inside the enormous cages were groups of young girls, no more than seven or eight years old. Each cage held twenty children, all dressed in coarse cloth jackets with large characters written on their chests like prisoners. The characters differed for each cage: "Mu," "Jing," "Yan," "Zhuge," while Zhao Che and Zhao Jue were distinguished by "Che" and "Jue." Having been confined in the dark cages for some time, the children were momentarily blinded by the sudden light. They huddled together in panic, their eyes wide with fear, like timid rabbits.
Zhuge Huai explained cheerfully, "A caravan of Western merchants visited my residence recently, and they taught me this game. In a moment, I'll have the cages removed and release wolves from the animal pens. Those beasts have been starved for three days and are ravenous. We can shoot the animals or the slaves in others' cages. After the time it takes for one incense stick to burn, whoever has the most slaves remaining wins."
Prince Jing laughed heartily, clapping first. "Now this is interesting! Great fun."
Zhuge Huai declared, "Then let's begin. Each of us gets thirty arrows." He turned to one of his subordinates and ordered, "Zhu Shun, open the cages."The servants, having received their orders, removed the cages and withdrew from the enclosure. The children stood trembling in place, as if still trapped by invisible cages, too terrified to move.
Suddenly, a ferocious roar erupted as the gates on both sides of the enclosure swung open. Over twenty savage wolves charged into the arena, jaws gaping wide, howling as they lunged toward the children.
Piercing screams immediately filled the air. The seven- and eight-year-olds huddled together in panic, scrambling toward where people stood outside the enclosure. Simultaneously, a barrage of arrows shot fiercely into the arena—not aimed at the ravenous wolves, but at the fleeing children.
The metallic scent of blood rose thickly toward the sky. Heart-rending shrieks and wails pierced the heavens as arrows tore through the children's frail shoulders, chests, and abdomens. Blood gushed forth, blooming like crimson flowers across their small frames. Stimulated by the scent of blood, the wolf pack grew even more frenzied. A dark cyan wolf leaped up and snapped a child's neck in its jaws before the victim could even scream. Another wolf ripped off the child's leg while yet another tore away half its skull, splattering brains and blood across the snowy ground.
Chaos reigned between heaven and earth. Unending agonized screams filled the air. Jing Yue'er, her small body pierced by an arrow that pinned her brutally to the ground, felt unbearable pain in her shoulder. Her eyelids grew heavy as millstones, her breathing faint as death. Yet her brows remained tightly furrowed, growing ever more tense. A vicious wolf slowly approached, its predatory eyes fixed on the child, drool dripping from its maw until a thick glob splattered onto the child's cheek.
In the Netherworld, it seemed as if heavenly eyes watched this earthly tragedy. Just as the wolf's fangs descended, the child's eyes snapped open—sharp as blades, devoid of any childish fear or weakness. Instinctively, her hands shot up to grip the wolf's upper and lower jaws. Lifting her head, she sank her teeth into the beast's extended tongue and tore!
A piercing howl erupted. Everyone turned to see the fierce-eyed child clamped onto the wolf's tongue, momentarily stunned into forgetting their arrows.
Zhao Che reacted first. Noticing the large character "Che" on the child's clothing, he laughed heartily, drew his bow, and sent an arrow whistling into the wolf's throat.
The wolf fell with a final whimper as the massacre in the enclosure continued. Remaining wolves pursued other girls amid torn corpses and scattered limbs, the air thick with gut-wrenching screams and sobs. Jing Yue'er staggered to her feet, eyes wide with disbelief, her small frame frozen like stone. Tattered clothes hung from her body, her hair disheveled, face pale and smeared with blood. As the cold wind whipped around her, she resembled a frail blade of grass.
Whoosh! An arrow suddenly shot toward her. Jing Yue'er nimbly leaped backward, evading the fatal strike, but her small stature and weakness allowed the arrow to graze her calf. Blood streamed down freely.
The young Prince Jing chuckled darkly, notching another arrow to take aim again.Zhao Che raised an eyebrow and let out a cold snort. He drew his bow and released an arrow, which sliced through Prince Jing's arrow with a sharp whistle.
The wolves closed in from behind, their foul stench assaulting her senses. Jing Yue'er had no time to check her injured leg as she sprinted desperately toward Zhao Che.
This person had saved her twice already in such a short time. In her dazed state, she quickly chose the direction most advantageous to her.
But just as she took two steps forward, a sharp arrow suddenly shot toward her, embedding itself firmly in the ground before her feet. The child froze in surprise, then stopped and looked up, frowning in confusion at the black-robed youth astride the chestnut horse.
Zhao Che snorted contemptuously, glancing at her briefly before firing another arrow that pierced through the back of another running girl. The child, no more than five or six years old, screamed and collapsed. The large character "Yan" on her back was stained crimson with blood before being quickly torn apart by the wolves.
Time seemed to race yet crawl. The child stood rooted to the spot, stunned. Suddenly, she pressed her lips together and swiftly turned around. Despite her injured leg, she moved with remarkable agility, narrowly evading a wolf that lunged at her.
In one corner of the enclosure lay a pile of wooden sticks and hay for feeding horses. The child grabbed a stick and, without looking back, struck the wolf hard across its flank.
The wolf howled in pain and staggered aside, clearly severely injured.
"Come here! Everyone, come here!" the child shouted, crouching to pick up two stones. She struck them together, sparks flying, and the hay instantly caught fire. Lighting the stick, she brandished it like a torch, running around the enclosure to drive away the wolves attacking the children. "Come here! All of you!" she yelled.
The younger children, weeping, rushed toward Jing Yue'er. They were all wounded—some by wolf bites, but more by arrows. In just that short time, fewer than twenty remained.
Wolves fear fire. Seeing Jing Yue'er gathering the children in a protective circle, they hesitated, unwilling to approach. After circling for a while, the hungry beasts turned back to feast on the corpses scattered across the field.
Zhuge Huai narrowed his slender eyes and murmured softly, "Useless beasts." He drew his bow and shot at the wolves.
Arrows rained down, and the wolves were swiftly attacked. After a chorus of bloody howls, the entire pack lay dead.
The surviving children, overjoyed, forgot their injuries and leaped up, cheering in relief at their narrow escape.
But before their cheers could fully form, another volley of arrows descended, piercing their small bodies. The noble youths of the Celestial Dynasty, sharp-eyed and ruthless, aimed mercilessly at the opposing children, thirsting for blood and lives.
A sharp arrow whistled through the air with terrifying force. It pierced through one child's skull, entering through the right eye and exiting through the back of the head, stopping just inches from Jing Yue'er's nose. Brains splattered across her face. Her mouth hung open, the burning stick still clutched in her hand, frozen like a wooden statue. The children's cries echoed in her ears—everything felt like a nightmare.The arrows gradually thinned out. With a shared smirk, the young Prince Jing and Mu Yun nocked their arrows, aimed at the little girl, and shot with lightning speed.
Zhao Che frowned, urging his horse forward. Reaching for his quiver, he found only one arrow left. He snorted coldly, snapped the arrow in two, and placed both halves on his bow. With a masterful technique, he shot them out, instantly knocking down the arrows of the young Prince Jing and Mu Yun.
Zhuge Huai laughed heartily and exclaimed, "Superb archery!"
As his words faded, all the screams ceased. The northern wind swept across the barren ground, filling the air with the scent of blood. In the blood-soaked hunting grounds, only Jing Yue'er remained. Her hair was a tangled mess, mixed with straw, her clothes stained with blood, her face pale. Leaning on a wooden stick, she stood there, staring blankly in their direction as if petrified with fear.
Zhao Jue remarked, "Seventh Brother is truly formidable. I've run out of arrows, so it seems you've won today."
The young Prince Jing raised an eyebrow, glanced at himself, then at Mu Yun, and finally turned to Zhuge Huai.
Zhuge Huai, with his refined and handsome features, smiled and said, "I ran out of arrows long ago."
"Doesn't Young Master Yan still have some? Time isn't up yet—it's still anyone's game."
Mu Yun suddenly spoke, and all eyes immediately turned to Yan Xun. Zhao Che looked coldly at Yan Xun and remarked indifferently, "Young Master Yan always manages to surprise us."
Only half the time of one incense stick had passed, and everyone else had exhausted their arrows. Only Yan Xun's quiver still held one snow-white fletched arrow.
Yan Xun sat upright on his horse. Though only thirteen or fourteen years old, his back was straight, his brows sharp like swords, his eyes bright like stars, his nose bridge high, and his gaze piercing. Dressed in a deep purple robe that fit him impeccably, he appeared even more distinguished, handsome, and aloof. His expression was calm as he slowly urged his horse forward, drew his bow to its fullest, and aimed at the child in the center of the hunting grounds.
The howling wind swept through, lifting the child's tattered clothes and disheveled hair. She was very young, only six or seven years old, malnourished and sallow, like a newborn wolf cub without fur. Her arms, neck, and legs were covered in wounds, and the injury on her shoulder was dangerously close to her heart. She stood amidst the chaotic slaughterhouse, surrounded by dismembered limbs, corpses, and pools of blood. The stench of blood permeated the air, and the brutality of the scene felt like a desperate, soul-tearing force assaulting her fragile eyes.
A sharp arrow, gleaming with a bloodthirsty cold light, slowly aligned with the child's throat. The young man sat firmly on his horse, his eyes sharp, his brows tightly furrowed, the veins on his arms bulging as he gradually drew the bow to its limit.
There was no escape for her. Chaotic thoughts raced through her mind, and all her unanswered questions and doubts collapsed in the face of this sudden massacre. Slowly, she raised her head, her gaze cold and filled with icy hatred and disgust, staring unflinchingly at the young man aiming at her.
That day was the fourth day of the first lunar month in the 466th year of the Baicang Calendar. The people of Zhenhuang City had just celebrated their New Year. In the royal hunting grounds outside Zhenhuang City, she and he met for the first time.
Time pierced through the tracks of history, broke through the gates of space and time, and placed two souls that were never meant to touch on the same platform.
Yan Xun's brows furrowed slightly, his fingers shifted slightly, and he released the sharp arrow.The long arrow whistled through the air, cutting through the icy wind with a whooshing sound. All eyes converged upon it, turning toward the child standing motionless in the distance.
With a sharp hiss, a crimson line instantly elongated as the arrow grazed the child’s neck, leaving a trail of blood. The child swayed slightly, staggering two steps, yet remained standing.
"Haha! Congratulations, Seventh Brother!" Zhao Jue laughed heartily.
Zhao Che cast a disdainful glance at Yan Xun and sneered, "Young Master Yan has been so engrossed in songs, dances, and poetry that he must have forgotten how the Zhao ancestors once wielded their bows."
Yan Xun set down his longbow and turned his head, replying calmly, "How the Zhao ancestors handled their bows is for the Zhao descendants to remember. Yan Xun dare not overstep his bounds."
Zhuge Huai smiled and said, "In that case, today’s prize goes to the Seventh Prince. A banquet has been prepared at my residence—let us all go and share a cup of wine."
The group agreed in unison and mounted their horses, as if all that had transpired was nothing more than an ordinary game.
A fierce wind howled past, whipping up the fluttering fur cloaks of the riders. Across the desolate snowfield, the scent of blood lingered in the air. In the distance, Yan Xun turned back and saw the blood-stained child still standing in the wilderness, his gaze profound and unwavering as he watched them from afar, motionless for a long time.
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