"In the seventy-third year of the Baicang calendar, on the sixteenth day of the fifth month, the Empress passed away. Officials wept in mourning outside the Purple Gold Gate, the people grieved, and the entire nation observed a period of mourning. On the twenty-third of the fifth month, the funeral procession set out from Taiqing Street, with carriages and horses stretching over ten miles. The Prince of Xihuai, dressed in mourning attire, followed the coffin all the way to the imperial mausoleum at Jiu'en Mountain."
Historical records of Empress Muhe Nayun contain only these brief lines. Behind the apparent glory and favor, there was not even a posthumous title bestowed upon her death. The cause of her death was left unmentioned; a single character, "passed away," represented the true exit of the once prosperous and powerful Muhe lineage from the stage of history. Of the seven great families of the Elder Council, only six remained. The vacancy left by the fall of the Muhe Clan immediately attracted the covetous gazes of other prominent families, and with Muhe Nayun's death, these ambitions became even more brazen.
On the day of Empress Muhe's funeral, Chu Qiao stood atop the Bell and Drum Tower in the southwest corner of the palace, watching white mourning streamers flutter across the sky, obscuring the vast emptiness above. It all felt like a fleeting, extravagant dream. Yan Xun stood beside her, his expression calm, revealing no discernible emotion. Yet after he turned and left, Chu Qiao noticed five distinct finger marks imprinted on the railing he had just gripped.
How could she forget that the first cavalry to set foot on the Yanbei plateau belonged to the mighty army of the Muhe Clan? How could she forget the eyes of Yan Hongxiao at the Cold Water River, filled with humiliation, resentment, and hatred that refused to close?
With the death of the last ruling member of the Muhe lineage, the blood-soaked enmity between Yanbei and the Muhe Clan finally settled amidst the carnage.
On her way back to Yingge Court, Chu Qiao unexpectedly encountered the Seventh Prince, Zhao Che. The young prince wore a light blue robe, with only his belt and cuffs in moon-white, starkly contrasting with the overwhelming white mourning draping the entire palace.
Zhao Che stood calmly in the lofty Yuanshan Pavilion, his features blurred by the fine, misty drizzle that filled the air. Chu Qiao held a blue oil-paper umbrella, tilting her head slightly upward. The rain dampened her shoes and the hem of her skirt.
Zhao Che lifted his head, gazing toward the western sky. Chu Qiao knew that beyond lay the rolling plateaus, from which, it was said, the golden ancestors of Daxia had emerged. They rode forth with whips raised, carving out this vast land with blood and conviction, subduing the chaotic Hongchuan plateau under a single rule. And when they died, their souls would return to their homeland, resting eternally in that crimson soil.
The underground imperial mausoleums of the Great Xia Dynasty were also nestled at the foot of Jiu'en Mountain in the northwest. Generations of common folk passed down tales of massive temples on that mountain, where whale oil lamps flickered in the dark night, burning for ten thousand years without end.
The fine rain slanted, pattering against the oil-paper umbrella. The young woman's figure was partly hidden among the flowering trees, only the white hem of her skirt fluttering quietly in the air.To curb the Muhe Clan, the Seventh Prince Zhao Che was given at birth to Consort Yuan, daughter of the Grand Academician of Wenhua Pavilion. As the only concubine Emperor Xia had ever truly favored in his life, Consort Yuan held a unique position in the imperial harem. She had followed her father, Academician Yuan, from Biantang and was born in the southeastern riverlands. Though she lacked a prominent family background, she enjoyed the emperor's deep affection for seventeen years without decline. Yet on Zhao Che's seventeenth birthday, Consort Yuan drowned herself in a lake before numerous palace maids and attendants.
No one knew the reason for Consort Yuan's death. Palace rumors claimed Muhe Empress, driven by jealousy, had poisoned and forced her to suicide, but the emperor never responded to these allegations. After Consort Yuan's death, he continued attending court and handling state affairs as usual, maintaining the demeanor of a wise ruler. However, from then on, he never took another concubine.
Zhao Che gradually grew distant from his birth mother due to his foster mother's death, eventually breaking with his maternal clan over political differences. When he was exiled to the borderlands, no one from his mother's family offered assistance.
Because of this, after the Muhe Clan's downfall, his younger brother the Prince of Xihua and sister Princess Chun saw their influence plummet and suffered greatly, while he remained unaffected, continuing to hold significant military power and command troops.
Often, surface appearances deceive. Chu Qiao turned away, no longer watching the prominent young prince's lonely figure gazing into the distance.
In this deep palace, everyone had their own sorrows and cruelties. Her eyes had witnessed too much hardship to see through the decay beneath the splendor.
When she returned to Yingge Court, Yan Xun was drinking in the plum blossom grove pavilion. In recent years, he had always been composed, rarely drinking except on necessary occasions. Standing under the corridor, Chu Qiao watched the young man in his simple blue robe and suddenly felt a pang of sorrow in her chest. She remembered an afternoon many years ago when the boy woke from a nightmare, gripped her hand, and asked weakly, "A Chu, when can I drink without worry?""
Back then, they were too weak to even dare drink carelessly. Now they had the courage, but their shoulders bore heavier responsibilities that prevented them from lifting their golden cups with peace of mind.
Sure enough, Yan Xun stopped after just two cups. The harsh winter had passed, and the plum blossoms were gradually fading. A breeze swept through, shaking the flowering trees and scattering petals. The blue-robed man with flowing black hair tilted his head back, eyes closed, brows slightly furrowed, allowing the white plum blossoms to fall on his face. The wind billowed his sleeves like spreading bird wings.
Chu Qiao didn't approach. She stood quietly at a distance, watching the person who had stood by her side for so many years.
Some emotions others couldn't understand, some hatreds others couldn't share. Even as close as they were, she could never bear the corrosive hatred that consumed him.
All she could do was watch from afar, waiting for when it rained to offer him the umbrella in her hand.
The empire's most noble woman had departed, leaving behind a massive stone that shattered the seemingly tranquil lake surface with a crash.Contrary to everyone's expectations, the most favored Consort Shu in the imperial harem did not smoothly succeed Muhe Nayun's position. After a brief period of celebration, countless suspicious arrows were suddenly aimed at the Wei Clan, and Consort Shu became the prime suspect. Officials from the Secretariat, the Imperial Household Department, and the Court of Judicial Review filed in and out of the Shu Yun Palace like a revolving lantern. After seven days of investigation yielded no results, Consort Shu's suspicion was not cleared. With certain individuals deliberately turning a blind eye, her status in the imperial harem plummeted, and the Wei Clan, caught in the crossfire, faced relentless criticism from the Censorate. The situation was far from optimistic.
Meanwhile, Consort Xuan of the Lan Xuan Palace unexpectedly rose to prominence. She attended the emperor for three consecutive nights and was enfeoffed as an imperial consort on the fourth day, becoming the highest-ranking consort in the harem aside from Consort Shu. She was also entrusted with the phoenix seal and given full authority to oversee the funeral arrangements for Empress Muhe, effectively becoming the foremost figure in the harem.
Unlike the former Consort Yuan or the fallen Muhe Nayun, Consort Xuan, whose childhood name was Lan Xuan, bore a prestigious surname. She hailed from the ancient Zhuge clan, which had been passed down for over a century and possessed a powerful family backing. Her full name was Zhuge Lan Xuan.
With the shift in political winds, the Zhuge clan rose in prominence, instantly becoming one of the great clans on par with the Wei Clan.
Emperor Xia's birthday was destined to be anything but peaceful. With only three days remaining after Empress Muhe's funeral, the emperor was set to marry his most beloved daughter to the Heir of Yanbei on the same day, completing this highly anticipated imperial marriage.
All bows were suddenly drawn to their fullest, and the air grew thick with tension. On the seventeenth of May, a troop of fierce cavalry shattered the capital's tranquility. The belated birthday envoys from the northwestern Batuha Family had finally arrived. Barely after entering the city, Ba Lei, the youngest biological brother of the old Batu, broke down in tears, weeping bitterly before the national mother's statue in Ziwei Square. Soon after, he received a summons to the Holy Gold Palace, for his loyalty and patriotism had moved the esteemed emperor to grant him a personal audience.
Ba Lei's return did not attract the attention of the observant. In the eyes of the capital's bureaucrats, a former elder of the Elder Council held little significance, especially since the Muhe Clan's downfall had rendered the marginalized and barbaric Batuha Family in the northwest even more irrelevant. The emperor's summons to Ba Lei was merely an attempt to win over hearts and minds.
In the imperial study of the Holy Gold Palace, the audience lasted a full hour, with guards stationed at the door, forbidding anyone from approaching.
By the time Ba Lei emerged from the Holy Gold Palace, it was already deep into the night. A strong wind swept through the Nine Weirs Street, and the young General Ba Lei laughed heartily at the sky. Passersby glanced at the weeping and laughing northwestern dignitary with expressions of bewilderment, quietly frowning in disapproval.
That same night, both Zhuge Yue and Wei Shu Ye, the recently returned young master of the Wei Clan, received letters bearing the emblem of the northwestern falcon. After studying it for a long while, Zhuge Mu Qing set it aside and slowly shook his head, saying, "Just say the young master is ill and cannot go out."
Frowning, Zhuge Yue stepped forward and asked, "Father, why?"
Zhuge Mu Qing replied gravely, "Our objective has been achieved. We should avoid complicating matters. The clan's influence is not yet stable, and Lan Xuan still needs time in the palace.""If we facilitate this matter, the Emperor will hold us in even higher regard."
Zhuge Muqing slowly furrowed his brow and said in a deep voice, "Yue'er, don't you understand yet? Whether the Emperor values us doesn't depend on what contributions we make for the country, but on what strength the Zhuge lineage possesses. General Meng's family has served the nation for generations, yet to this day he remains merely a commander with no fiefdom or wealth to speak of. The noble families and imperial power share authority yet restrain each other—this is an irreconcilable conflict, something I've explained to you many times before."
"But..."
"Let's not discuss this further. From today onward, we will close our doors to visitors and await the outcome three days from now."
Zhuge Yue's words were forcibly cut off by Zhuge Muqing. What he had wanted to say was: if that fool Ba Lei fails to succeed and Yan Xun truly manages to escape the capital alive to return to Yanbei and assume the throne, what would become of the capital? What would become of Daxia? What would happen to the entire realm? By releasing this fierce tiger for our own interests, what kind of disaster and calamity would we bring upon ourselves?
He wanted to say that his father had grown old—his vision could only see the gains and losses of individual households, but he could no longer perceive the greater trends of the world. If the nation falls, how can the Zhuge lineage survive?
And if he really leaves, what about her? Would she also leave the capital and travel far to Yanbei?
Fortunately, although Ba Lei is a fool, there's still Wei Shu Ye. With the Wei Clan losing power, to maintain their footing they would have no choice but to seize this opportunity.
Zhuge Yue slowly raised his head and murmured, "Don't disappoint me."
The next day, Wei Shu Ye entered Old Batu's residence in the capital with eighteen warriors, while the northwestern warriors waited all day without seeing any sign of Zhuge Yue.
Ba Lei and Wei Shu Ye, meeting for the first time, weren't particularly reserved—they had previously worked together at the Southwest Military Camp. As soon as they took their seats, General Ba Lei immediately stated his purpose. The young rising star of the empire curled his lips in a sinister smile and said, "Since the Zhuge family has abandoned this excellent opportunity to serve the country, it seems this chance for promotion and wealth is destined to fall to us brothers."
Wei Shu Ye looked somber, apparently unwilling to engage in lengthy exchanges with Ba Lei, and cut directly to the chase: "I apologize for my bluntness, but may I ask if you have a plan, General?"
Ba Lei smiled triumphantly. "I do."
"I'm all ears."
The entire operation sounded like a small-scale military coup. Three days later, on the evening of the Emperor's birthday celebration, the 7th and 9th Divisions of the Elite Cavalry Camp stationed within the city would join forces with the northwestern Batuha Family's troops. Disguised as northwestern soldiers, they would join Ba Lei in besieging the Yanbei procession. Ba Lei would personally command on site, crush all resistance, directly arrest the rebels, then immediately execute them with the executioner's blade. With the treacherous ministers eliminated, peace would reign throughout the land.
Wei Shu Ye certainly understood the Holy Gold Palace's thinking—there were many who could carry out this task, but only the northwestern Batuha Family was most suitable.
Although it would create quite a stir, the entire operation would appear to be an act of revenge and murder. Given the longstanding enmity between Old Batu and Yanbei, no one would suspect any hidden schemes behind it. Old Batu, fearing that Yan Xun would gain expanded power after marrying the princess and cause trouble for him upon returning to Yanbei to succeed the throne, dispatched his younger brother to the capital to murder the innocent Crown Prince of Yanbei. The facts would be clear and unambiguous for all to see.Afterward, the emperor would handle the matter impartially—first severely reprimanding the Northwest Army, then imprisoning General Ba Lei, and finally, after ten to fifteen days, releasing him without charges in light of the Northwest's good attitude of admitting guilt, only symbolically collecting a small amount of compensation. It was believed that no one would seek justice for Yanbei, which had already been left without heirs.
The entire operation appeared to be a personal vendetta, unrelated to the state and utterly disconnected from the emperor, who was about to marry off his own daughter.
Wei Shu Ye felt a twinge of disgust but still furrowed his brows and said solemnly, "Three hundred elite warriors of the Wei Clan are willing to follow you, General, and are at your disposal."
To deal with a fallen Crown Prince, why would so many troops be needed? Ba Lei chuckled darkly and said, "Very well, then you, Major General, shall be responsible for clearing the periphery and intercepting any reinforcements."
Wei Shu Ye smiled gently. "Thank you for your guidance, General."
May 18th, late at night.
The young woman stood before the map, repeatedly analyzing the plan for the night two days later, and finally said gravely, "Every step has been arranged, but I am still uneasy about the part where you go to the ancestral temple in the southern city to pay respects."
Yan Xun raised an eyebrow, signaling her to continue.
"According to the ceremony, you must go to the ancestral temple to honor your ancestors, then follow the ceremonial officials back to the palace to marry the princess. The guards escorting you on this stretch are soldiers transferred from the Ministry of Rites—their loyalty is unreliable. If someone intercepts you along this route, it would spell disaster."
Yan Xun studied the map and said solemnly, "This area has open terrain and is close to the Southwest Garrison Commander. It's a mixed and chaotic place. If anything happens, we would need to deploy a large force. Moreover, the Southwest Garrison Commander has some ties with us—they may not dare to act recklessly."
Chu Qiao shook her head slowly. "We must prepare for every possibility. The most unlikely places are often where mistakes occur. We need to be ready for all variables. Besides, you and I both know that the Southwest Garrison Commander has not sworn allegiance to Yanbei, nor to you. We must remain vigilant."
Yan Xun nodded, picked up the map, and began planning for potential battles and countermeasures.
Chu Qiao also took out paper and brush, leaning over the desk to write.
After the time it takes for one incense stick to burn, they both straightened up simultaneously, exchanged papers, and after just one glance, broke into smiles.
Burn the boats and sink the cauldrons! Fight with one's back to the river!
If Emperor Xia dared to resort to such a lowly move, then the entire Zhenhuang capital would serve as his farewell escort!
The two days passed without incident. On the morning of May 20th, the entire Zhenhuang City was immersed in grand celebrations. Crimson brocade stretched from the Purple Gold Gate all the way along Jiuwei Street to the eastern city gate. The Emperor of Daxia made a public appearance, while officials, merchants, commoners, and citizens crowded the streets. Under the direction of the capital guards, they knelt and bowed, shouting "Long live the emperor," presenting a scene of flourishing prosperity and magnificent splendor.
For Emperor Xia's grand birthday, all prisoners except those convicted of capital crimes were granted amnesty. Zihui Square was densely packed with pardoned prisoners kneeling. As the emperor's carriage approached, they immediately shouted "Long live the emperor," expressing gratitude for his heavenly grace.
Civil and military officials, along with envoys from various regions, knelt before the Purple Gold Gate. Later, they followed the procession in a parade, basking in the adoration of the masses.The parade continued until the afternoon, when a grand banquet was held at the Holy Gold Palace. By evening, the sky was filled with fiery trees and silver flowers, colorful lanterns blazed brightly, and countless dancers performed magnificent routines in the square. The music resonated throughout the entire imperial city, while the common people's thunderous cheers created an astonishing spectacle.
However, just as waves of cheers echoed from the Ziwei Square, a procession of lavishly dressed individuals moved slowly along the road to the ancestral temple in the southern city, adhering strictly to ceremonial protocols.
Unlike the jubilant atmosphere within the inner city, the restricted area around the southern ancestral temple remained enveloped in silence. The distant cheers only accentuated the deathly stillness of this place.
Under the dim moonlight, crimson palace lanterns flickered along the roadside. Inside a carriage, Yan Xun sat dressed in bright red ceremonial robes, his eyes lightly closed as he quietly awaited the right moment.
With a sudden clatter, the carriage jolted to a gradual halt. Yan Xun opened his eyes, a slight frown forming on his brow as the last trace of hesitation vanished from his heart.
"What's going on? Why have we stopped?" the leading protocol officer demanded.
A young military lieutenant hurried forward and reported to both Yan Xun behind the curtain and the protocol officer outside, "Your Highness the Crown Prince, Honorable Protocol Officer, the ancestral temple guards ahead are demanding we disembark for inspection."
"What nonsense! This is a ceremonial ancestral worship approved ten days ago. How dare they intercept even Her Highness the Princess's wedding procession? Which squad are they from? Do they have a death wish?"
The young lieutenant replied with a pained expression, "Sir, I told them exactly that, but they insist on conducting the inspection."
"Your Highness, this humble officer will go ahead to investigate."
Silence prevailed inside the carriage. Taking it as Yan Xun's tacit approval, the protocol officer departed with the lieutenant. Unbeknownst to him, the carriage's occupant had already slipped away unnoticed.
The scent of killing intent permeated the air, thick as the stench of corpses.
At the front of the procession, the protocol officers and ancestral temple guards argued fiercely, their faces red and necks bulging, nearly coming to blows.
Behind a row of tall residential compounds, warhorses with cloth-wrapped hooves swiftly approached to receive the rapidly advancing man. A Jing dismounted and brought a horse for Yan Xun, stating gravely, "Your Highness, everything is prepared."
Yan Xun nodded silently, mounted the horse, and immediately galloped toward the Southwest Garrison Commander's headquarters at the other end of the long street. There stood the empire's field army, drawn from Yanbei, long stationed in the capital with over ten thousand troops.
Though they weren't his own men, Yan Xun had resolved to drag them onto his rebel path simply because they shared Yanbei origins.
Now, he was going to seek their aid.
Amid the standoff, a sharp whistle suddenly pierced the night's tranquility. The ancestral temple guard commander's smile vanished as he barked sharply, "Attack!"
Blades flashed as sudden turmoil erupted!
Amidst piercing battle cries, the ancestral temple guards drew concealed sharp weapons and began slashing with practiced efficiency. Their agile movements and formidable skills revealed them not as mere temple guards but seasoned soldiers. Instantly, gleaming blades flashed, blood sprayed, and the gruesome sounds of metal cutting through flesh and bone mingled with dense screams and cries of alarm."Slay the Yanbei rebels!" The assassins roared their battle cry, leaping like wolves and tigers over the hastily formed, fragile defensive line of the protocol officers. They swiftly charged toward the center of the carriage procession.
"Assassins! Enemy attack!" The lead protocol officer finally reacted. Being of military background, he drew the war blade at his waist and bravely engaged the enemy, shouting loyally, "Protect His Highness! Form ranks! Call for reinforcements! Counteratt—"
Before he could finish, a sharp blade sliced across his throat, and blood gushed out in an instant. The man's voice turned hoarse, and in the blink of an eye, his corpse tilted and collapsed into a gruesome pool of blood.
The protocol officers inside the carriage had no time to disembark before the assassins blocked the carriage door. A series of sharp whistling sounds followed as over a dozen silver arrows pierced through the carriage panels from all directions, impaling them completely.
The narrow carriage offered no room for evasion. Piercing screams and desperate pleas echoed over the southwestern skies of the imperial capital, sending chills down one's spine.
But the ruthless executioners showed no trace of emotion. Crouched on the ground, they steadily raised their small crossbows—loading, drawing, and shooting in practiced motions. Rows of sharp arrows whistled through the air, piercing the carriage panels and tearing the innocent imperial ritual officials to shreds. Occasionally, an archer with formidable strength would shoot an arrow clean through two panels; such arrows emerged drenched in the thick scent of blood, their tips dripping with shocking crimson droplets.
The carriage guards drew their sabers and fought back fiercely, loading arrows into their crossbows. Yet the enemy was too swift—before they could even aim, their fingers had already pulled the triggers. But how could there be accuracy in such panicked shooting? Especially for these guards of the Ministry of Rites, unaccustomed to battle. In their haste, their arrows proved utterly useless. Forced to discard their crossbows on the spot, they drew the sabers at their waists and joined the fray. Cries of slaughter shook the heavens as blood and mud mingled chaotically. On the broad imperial road wide enough for eight warhorses abreast, warriors from both sides tangled together—shouting, charging, and fighting to the death.
On a narrow road, it is the brave who win! There was no time to demand names or origins; all they could do was raise their sabers and bring them crashing down upon their enemies’ skulls!
But the enemies were far too numerous. The few guards were like straws in a raging torrent, swiftly swallowed by the tidal wave of foes until not a trace remained.
Low, thunderous roars echoed through the streets. Serving as a backdrop to this carnage was wave after wave of cheers from the central part of the imperial capital, while fireworks and flares filled the sky, proclaiming what a joyous occasion this day was. Yet, it was precisely this festive clamor that drowned out the sounds of bloodthirsty slaughter. No one knew, no one heard, and no one could have imagined that beneath such a prosperous and celebratory banquet, such brazen and merciless carnage could openly unfold.
The guards of the Ministry of Rites roared in defiance as they counterattacked, but the enemies surged forward like a tidal wave from all directions! Those ferocious faces and bloodthirsty eyes devoured the last shreds of hope like savage beasts from the wilderness.
"Counterattack! Hold the line! The empire will send reinforcements soon!"
Little did they know, the assassins this very day hailed from the empire they so fervently believed in. There would be no reinforcements, no rescue. They were fated to be the abandoned ones, sacrificed for the empire’s might!
Their vision tinged red, the world drowned in a haze of blood. They fired arrows at point-blank range, so close they were practically pressing against the enemies’ heads. Once their crossbows were empty, they wielded the heavy, dozen-pound weapons as hammers, smashing them brutally into their foes’ skulls until brains splattered, only to be cut down by a flurry of blades. The entire long street descended into a bloody melee. Both sides engaged in a brutal struggle, with screams and wails rising in a dense chorus.
Yan Xun’s carriage had been riddled with arrows like a beehive. No one could possibly hope he was still alive. The fierce battle did not last long. Within the time it takes for one incense stick to burn, the sounds of combat gradually thinned and faded away. Over two hundred guards were completely annihilated—whether they resisted or surrendered, all were mercilessly slaughtered, leaving no survivors! Blood gushed forth, converging into a terrifying stream that flowed silently down the street until it froze into clots of gore, the stench of blood overwhelming.At that moment, a magnificent firework suddenly bloomed at the center of the imperial capital, vibrant and dazzling, while tremendous cheers surged like tidal waves, making the deathly silence here even more pronounced.
This was undoubtedly a highly successful assassination, yet its mastermind found no joy in it. Balei stood despondently amidst the pool of blood, barking at his subordinates, "What happened? Where is he?"
The subordinate, face pale with panic and trembling uncontrollably, replied, "I don't know, sir. We didn't find Young Master Yan among the dead, nor in the carriage. I suspect he may have escaped."
"Escaped?"
Balei roared furiously, "With eight hundred men surrounding him, three hundred more guarding the perimeter, superior weapons, and thorough preparation—you still let him slip away in a surprise attack? What use are you to me?"
"General, we... we could check with Vice General Wei on the outskirts. Perhaps they captured him."
"Right," Balei nodded immediately, clinging to that sliver of hope as he prepared to mount his horse. But just then, a thunderous rumble of hoofbeats erupted, shaking the very earth violently. Balei looked up in terror to see a dense mass of torches slowly advancing from the end of the pitch-black street, gradually merging into a gleaming band. Warhorses reared proudly, their killing intent radiant as a rainbow! Charging toward them was a formidable cavalry legion!
"It's the Yanbei Army of the Southwest Garrison Commander!"
Balei cried out in alarm, swiftly turning around. "Run!"
But it was already too late to flee—two legs could never outrun four. This was no longer a battle; it was unequivocally a slaughter. Though Balei's northwestern troops were not lacking in skilled fighters, the hastily assembled rabble formed for an assassination stood no chance against a coordinated cavalry legion. The outcome was inevitable. The assassins couldn't even withstand the first wave of attacks before being decimated by crossbow volleys, leading to a complete rout and frantic, disorganized flight.
"I am General Balei of the northwestern Batuha Family! We act under royal decree!"
Panicked shouts rang out as Balei, shielded by his men, retreated step by step, screaming his identity at the top of his lungs.
But who would believe him? The officers and soldiers of the Southwest Garrison Commander, recently summoned by the Heir of Yanbei, were now bloodthirsty and frenzied. Ever since Yanshicheng's downfall, the Southwest Garrison Commander had been treated as inferior in the imperial capital, bullied and humiliated by the Green Camp Army and the Elite Cavalry Camp, and even the city garrison dared to look down on them. Now, with this golden opportunity to achieve a great merit, who would trust the desperate ravings of assassins on the brink of death?
Daring to orchestrate such a large-scale assassination in Zhenhuang City was nothing short of a death wish.
With a fierce roar, the soldiers swung their sabers and lopped off the head of the one shouting the loudest.
Like a sudden storm, the cavalry closed in rapidly, catching up with the fleeing crowd. Before man and horse even reached them, a hail of arrows rained down, instantly felling a swath of escaping assassins. Then, the hooves trampled over them mercilessly, crushing them into pulp.
Retribution came swiftly. Those who had been the killers mere moments ago had now become the prey under the assassins' blades, with no escape in sight.The thunderous sound of hooves shook the heavens as dark waves of cavalry surged forth, swiftly leveling all resistance in their path. Surrounded by the massive troop formation, Yan Xun, clad in vibrant red ceremonial attire, sat coldly atop his horse. His eyes, sharp as an eagle's, scanned the battlefield, his lips pressed into a stern, unyielding line.
"Your Highness, the Crown Prince!"
He Xiao, Deputy Commander of the Southwest Garrison, rode forward with a beaming, flushed face. "Your Highness, the mission has been successfully completed. All assassins have been executed, with not a single one escaping."
Yan Xun nodded slightly, a faint smile gracing his lips. "Commander He, your contributions are immense. I will never forget this life-saving grace."
He Xiao shook his head. "Your Highness flatters me. Protecting the capital's safety is my duty, and given that both you and the Southwest Garrison hail from Yanbei, how could we stand idly by?"
Yan Xun chuckled. "I will report your merits fully to the Emperor. I believe it won't be long before the title 'Deputy' is removed from Commander He's rank."
He Xiao's face lit up with joy. "Thank you for your recommendation, Your Highness!"
"Commander!" A junior officer approached, leaning in to whisper urgently into He Xiao's ear. "Something is amiss."
He Xiao frowned, turning to him. "What's wrong?"
The officer's brow furrowed deeply, his eyes filled with panic as he spoke in a low voice. "Come with me and see for yourself."
After excusing himself from Yan Xun, He Xiao followed the officer. When he saw the scattered, mangled corpses, his vision darkened as if the heavens and earth had collapsed in an instant. He nearly fell from his horse.
Balei, known for his arrogance and ostentation, had been seen by almost every citizen in the city upon his arrival. As the officer in charge of maintaining order, He Xiao recognized him instantly. Seeing Balei lying sprawled on the ground, his chest riddled with arrows, He Xiao felt his world go black, nearly fainting on the spot.
Summoning his resolve, the young deputy commander clung to the hope that this might have been an independent assassination attempt by the Northwest Batuha Family to eliminate the Heir of Yanbei. After all, the long-standing feud between Old Batu and Yanshicheng was widely known across the land.
But when he saw the large contingent of Elite Cavalry Camp soldiers, He Xiao knew in an instant that he was facing a dead end.
Though these soldiers wore the uniforms of the Northwest Batuha Family, the Southwest Garrison troops, stationed long-term in the capital, immediately recognized these very men who often swaggered into their camp behind the Elite Cavalry Commander, flaunting their authority. Seeing them, even the dullest of minds would understand that this so-called assassination was, in fact, an imperial-sanctioned execution.
So, what fate awaited him, who had led his troops to break through, slaughter the imperial soldiers, and save the Heir of Yanbei?
In that moment, He Xiao had only one thought: capture Yan Xun and atone for his crime!
"The one who wants me dead is the Emperor of Daxia."
In an instant, everyone froze in place!
Yan Xun, seated high on his horse, cast a casual glance over the assembled soldiers before settling his gaze on He Xiao. In a calm, detached tone, he said, "Commander He, I am sorry to have dragged you into this. If the Southwest Garrison were not composed of soldiers from Yanbei, capturing me might have spared you this calamity."A word of enlightenment jolted He Xiao like awakening from a dream! His eyes widened as he stared at Yan Xun's inscrutable face, suddenly comprehending the situation!
The Southwest Garrison Commander had no path of retreat left.
Had it been any other military unit that accidentally killed Balei and the Elite Cavalry Camp soldiers, they might have pleaded ignorance of the circumstances. But for the Southwest Garrison Commander—already under the empire's intense scrutiny and repeatedly suspected of harboring Yanbei rebels—there was absolutely no chance of survival. The empire would not spare them, the Elder Council would not spare them, and the Holy Gold Palace would certainly not spare them. Turning back now meant certain death. The man's eyes burned crimson as he glared fiercely at the handsome figure in red robes before him. A voice screamed madly in his mind: He knew everything all along! He deliberately led us to this dead end!
Yet he couldn't utter a single word. Moments later, the ferocity in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by the desperate madness of a condemned man.
With tens of thousands gathered on the long street, those with clear minds instantly understood the chain of events. They felt as if the very earth were shaking beneath them, overwhelmed by hollow fear. People lifted their heads, gazing at He Xiao, at Yan Xun, or perhaps at the heavens, desperately searching for a path to survival.
All escape routes were blocked. Retreat was impossible—turning back meant certain death. The only way out might be to fight with desperate courage!
He Xiao abruptly dismounted from his warhorse, raising both hands to the soldiers behind him as he shouted fiercely: "Brothers! For eight years I've held these words back, but today I must speak them! Who was it that crushed the Canglan Prince's rebellion and fought through the Holy Gold Palace to rescue the emperor? Who made the thousand-mile forced march at White Horse Pass to save the empire's elders and officials? Who resisted the Quanrong People on the Yanbei plateau, preventing those northern barbarians from crossing the border and protecting our parents, wives, and children? It was the King of Yanbei, the old Prince Yanshicheng! And what did this loyal servant ultimately receive? Execution of his entire clan! Public beheading! For eight years, we soldiers of Yanbei lineage have endured humiliation in the imperial capital, looked down upon by the whelps of the Elite Cavalry Camp and Green Camp Army. This too we endured! But now, the empire seeks to unjustly eliminate the old prince's only remaining descendant, attempting to eliminate the Crown Prince through vile means. As soldiers of Yanbei, shall we accept this?"
"No!"
Thunderous shouts erupted instantly as countless soldiers raised their swords and spears. The legends of Yanshicheng's invincibility surged once more through the soldiers' passionate hearts, while years of oppression boiled within them like magma. Their roaring cries created an awe-inspiring momentum!
"Brothers! We are soldiers of Yanbei! Tonight we've killed the empire's conspirators—we're tied to the Crown Prince's fate! If the Crown Prince falls, we'll meet the same end! Tell me, should we await death passively?"
"No!"
"We cannot die!"
"The emperor is ungrateful! He doesn't deserve to command us!"
"The foolish emperor issues chaotic decrees! We rebel!"
Someone finally shouted those last words, and the entire force fell into dead silence.
Then, as if wildfire sweeping across plains, countless voices roared in unison: "The foolish emperor issues chaotic decrees! We rebel!"
"Warriors of Yanbei!"Yan Xun sat astride his horse, his gaze icy as he looked down upon the countless raised hands below. His eyes narrowed slowly, and he spoke in a firm, resolute voice: "For eight long years, my father has suffered unjustly. Yanbei has withered, trampled by villains, and the glory of Yanbei's warriors has been crushed by the corrupt imperial capital! We are all loyal subjects of the empire, guarding the borders, resisting the northern barbarians, and protecting the peace of the empire's heartlands. But over time, prosperity and luxury have blinded the eyes of the empire's elders and the emperor! They have forgotten who died on the frontiers, building a steel wall to defend the homeland with blood and bones! They have forgotten who braved wind and snow to repel the Quanrong People beyond the passes! They have forgotten who, time and again, rescued the empire from peril in its darkest hours!"
"It was us!" the soldiers roared in unison. "It was us, the people of Yanbei!"
"Yes! It was us!" A fierce wind howled, whipping Yan Xun's billowing robes. The young man tore off his luxurious crimson outer garment, revealing a pitch-black battle robe beneath. Embroidered on it was a magnificent golden War Eagle—the battle standard of Yanbei, the Golden Iron Eagle Banner! Yan Xun declared sharply: "The ruler is foolish, unable to distinguish loyalty from treachery! He has forgotten our merits, offering no rewards but instead delivering fatal blows! We have done no wrong—we have only served with merit. We will never submit!"
"Resist to the end! We would rather die than yield!"
Countless hoarse voices shouted in unison: "We rebel! We would rather die than yield!"
Yan Xun drew the long sword at his waist. The gale swept through his black battle robe, making the golden eagle seem as if it might take flight at any moment.
The young Crown Prince, imprisoned for eight years, let out a lion-like roar: "Warriors! Follow me! We will fight our way out of the capital and return to Yanbei! We have no other choice—only rebellion! Today, our Yanbei line declares independence!"
"Fight our way out of the capital! Return to Yanbei!"
Their fervent cries pierced the sky. At the same time, a series of massive fireworks exploded overhead, filling the air with blazing trees and dazzling sparks.
At that very moment, in the Yingge Court, a woman clad in black battle robes stood under the dark night sky. Behind her followed a group of figures dressed in identical black attire. A snow-white eagle soared through the night and landed on the young woman's shoulder. She unfolded the letter, her brow furrowing slightly before relaxing.
"Warriors! The moment to test your mettle has arrived!"
Chu Qiao turned sharply, her eyes as sharp as snow, her hair flowing like a waterfall. She declared in a firm, resonant tone: "Yanbei needs you! Datong needs you! The common people, the masses of the realm, need you! Go now, and offer the hearts and livers of the corrupt rulers as sacrifices to our newborn regime!"
A chorus of battle cries erupted. Moments later, the courtyard was empty save for Chu Qiao.
The young maid, Lü Lü, rushed forward anxiously and said, "Miss, we must go now."
"No," the young woman shook her head decisively. "There is one more thing we have yet to do."
OpenNovel