At the border between Daimao and Chentie lay a vast unnamed wasteland, barren and sallow yellow under the sunlight.

Two horses raised two trails of dust, drawing straight and lonely lines across the sallow earth, followed by vast clouds of deep yellow mist. Looking closely, it wasn’t mist but billowing dust and smoke rising from horse hooves. In the connecting dust clouds between heaven and earth, countless shadowy figures of horsemen could be glimpsed.

The Mo Army’s pursuit of Gong Yin and Tie Xinze had already crossed half the wasteland.

As an assassin army, the Mo Army excelled at both battle formations and tracking. This thousand-li wasteland offered no cover or concealment, and the Mo Army had already blocked possible routes to the nearby mountains. So though Gong Yin and Tie Xinze had been pursued for a full day, they still couldn’t shake off the Mo Army.

Fortunately, their goal wasn’t to escape the Mo Army, but merely to lead them farther away—much farther.

After a day of hard riding, Tie Xinze’s face was covered with a layer of yellow dust, congealed by sweat from his forehead until his original features were barely recognizable.

Gong Yin on the horse beside him was in better condition. A day and night of battle and flight had only made his complexion a bit paler, but he showed little signs of exhaustion.

He glanced at Tie Xinze and tossed over a small box, saying, “Eat this.”

Tie Xinze held the reins with one hand and opened the box, seeing a snow-white pill inside. Without hesitation, he swallowed it.

After throwing away the box, he laughed, “I suddenly remembered when we were children—once when we fell off a cliff in the mountains and were starving half to death, you went to find food and threw it to me just like this. Only after I finished eating did I realize that was all the food there was, and you had searched for half a day to find it.”

Gong Yin’s gaze seemed to soften slightly. “I don’t remember much from childhood.”

“I remember it clearly.” Tie Xinze’s complexion had recovered somewhat, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. “We separated when we were ten. When I was twenty, I went from Chentie to Dige to be your hostage. The things in between don’t matter much to me—I still think childhood memories are the most pure and innocent.”

“I only seem to remember death clearly,” Gong Yin said flatly. “Like that Er Dan who was killed, and Tie Niu.”

“You really know how to spoil the mood.” Tie Xinze laughed, then paused suddenly. “What Er Dan and Tie Niu? Wasn’t it Er Niu and Tie Dan? You really—and you say you remember clearly, but you can’t even remember your childhood friends’ names properly.”

“They weren’t my friends,” Gong Yin showed no guilt, lifting his eyes to gaze at the distant snow-white mountain peaks. “I only had one childhood friend.”

Tie Xinze fell quiet. Behind them, the pursuing troops’ hoofbeats thundered like a storm, dust and smoke rolling toward them like mountains. In all that pursuing clamor, he finally asked carefully, “Was it me?”

Gong Yin turned his head, gazing deeply at him. Tie Xinze met his gaze.

After a long moment, Gong Yin actually smiled.

When he smiled, it was like golden sunlight suddenly falling on snow peaks, or like all things in heaven and earth blooming into flowers, like cold rain suddenly becoming soft as silk, like the moon flowing slowly as a river from the edge of the sky.

Even Tie Xinze couldn’t help but stare in amazement.

Then he heard Gong Yin say clearly, “Yes.”

Tie Xinze smiled slightly too, then suddenly said, “The pass is almost here.”

Both men looked up to see the blue-green walls of Chentie Pass standing distantly in their field of vision, with a slanted remnant sun behind it.

“It looks close, but it’s actually far,” Tie Xinze sighed.

The two exchanged glances, both understanding the meaning of these words. Once Tie Xinze entered the pass, it would become much harder for the Mo Army to kill him, so before reaching the pass, the Mo Army would certainly stop at nothing.

Sure enough, those Mo Army soldiers who had been pursuing closely suddenly let out a long shout in unison.

The two looked back to see the group of horsemen at the front suddenly leap from their mounts. In mid-air, they raised their arms and threw with all their might. With a series of humming sounds, black lines shot forth, whistling across the sky.

Gong Yin raised his hand, ice shards flying from his palm in a flash that filled the sky. Most of the leaping horsemen were struck in the chest and fell in succession.

But what they had thrown was already launched. Since it wasn’t aimed at Gong Yin and Tie Xinze, the ice shards Gong Yin shot out to intercept them all missed their targets. Those black lines passed far over their heads, landing about ten zhang behind them.

Those objects looked thin and long. After hitting the ground, they drilled a foot deep, then snapped open with a pop, transforming into swaying black silk nets. They looked somewhat like the silk nets that had been shot into the large tree where Jing Hengbo had been hiding, but these nets were trailing wisps of gray mist that looked very ominous.

These misty nets formed a continuous barrier several zhang long, blocking Gong Yin and Tie Xinze’s path to the pass.

But such a design seemed to have no effect on Gong Yin and Tie Xinze, since they could go around, abandon their horses, or easily cross over with lightness skills without touching these frightening-looking things.

However, Tie Xinze’s expression was grave as he held back Gong Yin and said quietly, “Be careful!”

“What is this?” Gong Yin also had no intention of acting rashly, examining the swaying nets with caution.

“Possibly one of the Mo Army’s secret weapons,” Tie Xinze said with a bitter twist of his mouth. “The Mo Army has some weapons that only they possess, top military secrets. Supposedly a copy of these secrets should have been sent to me, but in fact I never received them. I originally thought it was because I hadn’t been on the throne long, but now I realize this was one of the signs of the Mo Army’s rebellion. How hateful that I didn’t think of it.”

“There’s no point discussing this now.” Gong Yin’s gaze passed through the silk nets toward the nearby pass. The commotion here was significant—the pass had already noticed, with figures moving on the walls as if about to take action.

Suddenly there was another shout of “Shoot!” from the opposite side. One row of horsemen retreated while another row stood up. Those standing drew their bows, nocked fire arrows, and with a unified “whoosh,” shot out a row of fire arrows.

The evening sky ignited with new clouds of fire, blazing brilliantly across half the heavens.

The figures on the pass walls moved even more urgently, and the sound of horns opening the city gates could be heard.

The fire arrows burned across half the evening sky, their flames dazzling. This time neither Tie Xinze nor Gong Yin moved, having already discovered that like the black misty nets, the fire arrows weren’t aimed at them either.

The fire arrows again passed far over their heads, landing three zhang behind them beyond the black misty nets, immediately igniting the dry grass and creating a bright red line of fire.

As soon as the flames rose, Gong Yin’s expression changed slightly. “Hold your breath!”

Tie Xinze held his breath and looked back to see the pass gates swing wide open as dozens of horsemen galloped out.

With troops appearing before the pass and someone setting fires, the pass had a duty to guard and would naturally come out to investigate.

Tie Xinze’s expression changed drastically—he understood the Mo Army’s intention. These people knew they couldn’t stop the two from reaching the pass, and once they reached it, there would be many variables. So they simply struck at the root, luring the people in the pass out to kill them.

Tie Xinze had originally wanted to meet those people and reveal his identity, but now he dared not.

If he revealed his identity, the pass guards would come out in force to escort him back to the country. But pass garrisons typically numbered only around five hundred. In emergencies, they would light beacon fires to relay messages. If everyone came out and fell into a trap and died here, who would light the beacon fires?

He could only leap up, covering his nose and mouth while taking off his outer robe and waving it vigorously, making “danger” gestures to signal these people to leave quickly.

Those people had seen his gestures. Though they couldn’t see clearly who it was, they noticed a row of flames ahead with what seemed to be a layer of gray mist slowly moving behind the fire, looking very strange. They hesitated and reined in their horses.

At this time, the wind was blowing directly toward the pass, and that patch of gray mist was rushing straight at the group of pass soldiers behind the flames.

The group also sensed something was wrong. Their leader shouted sharply, suddenly turned his horse around, and led the soldiers in retreat.

By this time, Gong Yin and Tie Xinze had already held their breath and crossed over the misty area, planning to reveal their identities after this group had moved away from the danger zone.

The two landed and saw the pass commander turning around.

Gong Yin noticed the man’s complexion and couldn’t help but freeze.

“Wait!” Tie Xinze chased forward, reaching into his robes to retrieve the great king’s seal while shouting, “Open the pass! Welcome this king back to the country!”

That group of pass soldiers turned back in amazement. With one glance, Gong Yin’s expression shook again slightly.

Tie Xinze had already taken out the great king’s token, holding it flat in his palm. Chentie favored black—the black tiger-shaped royal seal gleamed in the dim sunlight.

The pass commander recognized it at once and was extremely shocked. He quickly led his soldiers to turn around again and approach Tie Xinze.

Tie Xinze breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “The Mo Army wasted their efforts—in the end, they couldn’t stop us.”

Gong Yin looked up at the group of men riding toward them. He didn’t know if it was due to the angle of the light, but those faces all showed an iron-like blue-gray color in the twilight.

The pass commander rode up close and, seeing Tie Xinze clearly, couldn’t help but exclaim, “Great King! How do you come to be in this place? How did you end up in such a state!” He was about to dismount and also ordered the soldiers beside him to dismount in welcome.

In the distance on the pass walls, the remaining garrison had also noticed the commotion here and were all craning their necks to look.

Tie Xinze stepped forward, about to speak joyfully, when he suddenly heard Gong Yin sigh softly behind him.

Then he felt the temperature around him drop suddenly, as if snow had begun falling in March. A piercing cold, sharp as a sword, pressed toward him from behind.

This was the precursor to Gong Yin striking. He was greatly alarmed and quickly turned around. “Don’t—”

Snow-bright flashes connected.

Pure white ice shards tore through the quiet evening, like spring snow newly fallen under brilliant sun. That cold light flashed in pupils for only an instant, and the next instant would bring blood rainbows like neon evening clouds.

Eighteen streams of blood sprayed forth.

Tie Xinze stared wide-eyed at the scene before him. Those pass commanders and soldiers, who had been about to bow respectfully before him, suddenly all toppled backward heavily.

Ice shards protruded from their chests, blocking the spurting blood.

Too shocked to even remember to look back at Gong Yin, Tie Xinze heard surprised shouts from the pass walls above.

In the distance, the Mo Army remained as silent as distant mountains and deep ravines, only the light in each person’s eyes flickering slightly—whether from satisfaction or amazement was unclear.

After a long moment, Tie Xinze slowly turned his head, looking at Gong Yin with disbelief, his voice hoarse. “You… why did you…”

His eyes were full of confusion, completely unable to understand what Gong Yin was trying to do.

By killing the pass commanders who had come to welcome him before the pass, he had essentially closed the pass gates himself. Did he want to be surrounded on both sides here, seeking death?

But Gong Yin paid him no attention and showed no emotional fluctuation. He reached back into the line of fire and pulled out a pile of burning leaves and branches, throwing them onto the bodies of the dead pass commanders and soldiers.

He wasn’t just killing—he was burning the corpses!

Tie Xinze’s shock now carried anger.

Behind them, the Mo Army soldiers’ eyes flashed even more intensely, but they seemed to show a hint of admiration.

If Tie Xinze had seen their expressions at this moment, he would have been amazed. The Mo Army had always been cunning and arrogant, rarely taking action, but when they did, they always won. So they looked down on the world and had never truly admired anyone.

Yet now they watched Gong Yin in silence, quietly gripping their weapons tighter.

That was their reaction when encountering a powerful enemy.

A gust of wind blew across the wasteland, dispersing the gray mist. The Mo Army watched the dissipating mist with regretful expressions.

One of the Mo Army’s three great secret weapons—each use meant one less remaining. This time, because of that white-robed man, it had failed.

Tie Xinze hadn’t noticed the mist dispersing, still immersed in incomprehension and anger, staring fixedly at Gong Yin. “You! You’ve gone mad!”

“I haven’t gone mad.” Gong Yin’s hands didn’t stop, continuously throwing torches until all the corpses were burning beneath the flames. Only then did he say, “They were poisoned.”

Tie Xinze was startled, then said, “Even so, there was no need to kill them and burn the bodies! Now the pass will never open its gates!”

“Deadly poison. Contagious.” Gong Yin said. “Once they returned to the pass, everyone would die.”

Tie Xinze’s face changed drastically.

Gong Yin watched the flames from the burning corpses rise into the air, then turned and glanced at the Mo Army.

What a formidable army.

The misty nets weren’t meant to deal with them at all. The nets behind, the fire arrows in front—it was all to attract the pass garrison’s attention and lure them out to investigate.

Once the garrison came out, given the wind direction at the time, those people would certainly be poisoned.

If they followed these people back to the pass, then the entire pass would die, and they too would be infected. The so-called pass support wouldn’t exist, and the Mo Army could calmly surround the pass and still trap them to death.

If they saw through the plan, that was fine too—they would have no choice but to kill these sources of contagion before the rest of the pass garrison, unable to explain clearly. But once they killed people, the pass would be forever closed to them, and the Mo Army could still calmly intercept and kill Chentie’s great king before the pass.

Such a strategy was flawless. Such an army—where was the national machinery, the king’s blade? It was clearly a naturally willful killing weapon.

Could such an army really have been cultivated by that old king of Chentie, who had been mediocre his whole life and couldn’t even properly educate his own son?

The pass suddenly thundered. The two looked up to see the pass gates had closed tightly.

Countless figures moved and ran on the walls above, drawing bows and nocking arrows, all aimed at Gong Yin and Tie Xinze.

The pass garrison was enraged.

Tie Xinze stepped back, looking at the Mo Army standing firm as mountains on one side and the tightly closed black iron gates on the other, his face pale as death.

This was a deadly trap—he didn’t know how to resolve it.

Unless they could light the beacon fires, but pass beacon fires couldn’t be lit casually. Would they have to kill everyone in the pass? Under the Mo Army’s watchful eyes, how could they kill? And how could they possibly manage it?

Gong Yin didn’t even glance at the pass. He focused intently on watching the fire burning the corpses, as if how well these bodies burned was his greatest concern at the moment.

The fire was large, and soon the corpses were reduced to charcoal. The garrison on the walls watched helplessly, grief and anger in their eyes. Some cried out mournfully, their voices piercing—it seemed the dead commander had been well-loved by his soldiers in life.

Gong Yin waited until the flames diminished, then poked around in the fire pile and retrieved a section of iron arrow—the shaft from one of the earlier fire arrows.

Then he found the commander’s bow beside his corpse. It was an iron bow that wasn’t easily burned.

He picked up the bow and arrow. Though both were burned hot enough to be untouchable, once in his hands, the red-hot bow and arrow suddenly became covered with a layer of ice crystal color. It quickly melted and quickly froze again, changing several times between snow-white and fire-red before finally being covered with layers of ice and snow, becoming an ice-snow heavy bow.

Then he took this ice arrow transformed from a fire arrow and poked around in the commander’s nearly ash-gray corpse.

Everyone’s expression changed drastically.

This was desecrating and scattering the bones! Even with life-and-death enmity, one shouldn’t do such things!

“State Preceptor, you cannot!” In his urgency, Tie Xinze accidentally revealed Gong Yin’s identity.

Gong Yin glanced at him coolly. That one glance made Tie Xinze’s heart turn cold, as if that ice arrow had suddenly stabbed into his very marrow.

On the pass walls above, the soldiers who witnessed this scene were going mad.

Someone was shouting commands, someone was running swiftly, someone was pushing ballistae with all their might, someone was desperately making warning flag signals. Above the wall’s crenellations, countless crossbows and ballistas extended their dark arrow ports, all fixed deadly on Gong Yin and Tie Xinze.

Tie Xinze was distraught, murmuring, “You’ve gone mad too…”

How could anyone, at such a moment, ignore the real enemies and instead turn against their own people?

Behind the silk nets and dying wall of fire, the Mo Army also showed confusion.

They too didn’t quite understand what Gong Yin was trying to do.

At this moment, their attention was all on Gong Yin—he was the true great enemy.

Gong Yin ignored everyone else. He slowly raised the ice-snow great bow, aiming at the pass above.

The setting sun made golden light dance on the snow-white bowstring. His bow-drawing posture seemed ready to shoot down mountains and rivers with a single arrow.

Though it was only one man with one bow facing the distance, the entire pass felt like chicks being watched by a giant eagle.

Everyone on the pass walls couldn’t help but shrink back, all feeling as if this bow and arrow were aimed directly at them. Or perhaps not just at them, but at this majestic pass, this vast Chentie, this boundless great wasteland—at everyone.

The air seemed suddenly stretched, emptied, tightened, and twisted, filled with suffocating tension. Everyone felt their breathing tighten, even their skin and joints becoming numb from nervousness.

Even the setting sun and evening clouds dimmed under that flashing ice-snow light. Between heaven and earth, only that pair of ice-snow bow and arrow remained. Beyond the bow and arrow was an entire ice-snow aura. In an instant, with Gong Yin as the center, a bone-chilling cold spread silently. The green grass at his feet rustled slightly, quickly extending a patch of pale ice crystal color. Green grass became white grass, a line of crystal clarity extending straight toward the base of the pass.

Those on the walls felt as if transparent ice covers were falling around them, and their blood was slowing.

Even the Mo Army behind Gong Yin, who wanted to strike, were shocked by this piercing cold and couldn’t move.

One man struck and his might commanded the world.

“Whoosh!”

With one sound, everyone felt their hearts “snap,” as if all their meridians and blood had been liberated, yet also seemed to be rapidly breaking apart. Instinctively, their whole bodies shuddered and felt cold.

They hadn’t heard any terrifying sound—or perhaps the sound was so violent that people couldn’t hear it—but suddenly they felt heaven and earth darken. Looking again, somehow the setting sun and evening clouds had already faded. The spring sky in the third month was dense with red clouds, and a massive snow-colored light whistled through, like a god suddenly stirring a giant ice-snow pestle and smashing it across heaven and earth.

One man struck and the heavens responded.

The next moment, everyone felt the ground thunder beneath their feet.

The tremor was so violent that countless ready arrows flew wildly, countless standing soldiers rolled into heaps, countless waving banners fell, leaving chaos everywhere. People rolled about on the ground in disarray. As they rolled, they suddenly felt the ground was slippery and icy cold. Then someone cried “Ah!” leaned backward, and disappeared from view.

Everyone on the walls was stunned. The wall had been blocking properly—how could someone suddenly slide down?

Looking again—where was that section of wall?

Somehow, a large section of the wall on the front left side had vanished, and the remaining parts were still silently collapsing. Those sturdy walls, sealed with rice paste mortar, that even cannon fire might not topple, were now collapsing like snow walls melted by the sun—a great section had fallen before their very eyes.

At the very front of the collapse, an ice-snow iron arrow stained with bone ash was quietly embedded.

Everyone sat dazedly among the ice and snow debris, staring at that arrow. If not for the arrow being so real before their eyes, no one could believe what they had seen.

From ten zhang away, one arrow destroyed the city—this was something that only existed in legends. Everyone had heard such legendary tales before, all belonging to the great capable extraordinary people of the founding empress’s era hundreds of years ago. But legends were legends, and everyone thought legends could be exaggerated, embellished, and beautified with imagination.

Moreover, the founding empress’s era of outstanding talents and schools shining like stars had long passed. Hidden sects had either declined or withdrawn from the world, making such legends even more like myths in the heavens.

Then on this day, myth suddenly and inexplicably descended before an ordinary pass of Chentie.

The walls were deathly silent. Everyone’s weapons had fallen to dust. Before such a miracle, people couldn’t summon the courage to resist.

Suddenly someone said hoarsely, “The wall is destroyed… light the beacon fires… light the beacon fires!”

Everyone suddenly awakened—by iron law of the pass, even if half died in battle, beacon fires couldn’t be lit casually, because once lit, it would alarm the entire national army, meaning powerful enemies were at the gates and would attack inland, the nation was in peril, and all armies must gather here at the fastest speed.

The only condition for lighting beacon fires was if the pass walls were destroyed. Wall destruction meant the city was breached, and the entire nation must be informed.

The enemy had first killed the commander, used the commander’s bone ash to shoot an arrow, and destroyed the pass with one shot. Such a powerful enemy, such malicious provocation—even if only one person, beacon fires must inform the entire nation!

“Puff.” Black fire blazed, wolf smoke rose. Rolling black smoke surged up to the sky, clearly visible for thousands of li around.

Tie Xinze had been staring dazedly at the walls, as if unable to keep up with these lightning-fast changes. Only now did he step back and slowly exhale a long breath.

Once the beacon fires were lit and armies gathered, his trusted troops were stationed nearby. Once they arrived and opened the pass, his chances of winning would increase greatly.

Only now did he realize that every step of Gong Yin’s actions had its own considerations, every step foresaw the outcome. Killing, burning corpses, desecrating bones, shooting the city—in the end, it was all just to destroy the walls and light the beacon fires.

He looked back at that man who had calmly lowered his bow and whose expression remained unchanged even now, and suddenly felt a shallow chill in his heart.

It was as if he saw the cold will of heaven deliberately creating such a stern and terrifying man to stand between heaven and earth, choking and destroying all obstacles in this world.

Looking up again at the sky, though the ice-snow arrow had been shot, the sky hadn’t returned to normal. The setting sun had retreated, the evening clouds had vanished, and red clouds rolled at the horizon with vaguely howling cold winds.

And in the northwest direction, there seemed to be another group of the same red clouds, silently rolling and approaching.

…

Northwest direction.

The green grass was also covered with white frost.

Above the white frost, a man walked barefoot, treading on those ice crystal-colored grass tips. The grass tips didn’t move, not even a fragment of broken ice fell.

Behind him was a long procession, all like him in white robes and bare feet, with cold and indifferent expressions. Wherever they passed, bitter cold pervaded and the earth cracked with icy fissures.

They advanced across this wasteland, soundless and wordless, without joy or anger, like a group of moving ice sculptures.

Their direction of advance was straight, heading toward Daimao.

But at the moment when Gong Yin shot his arrow, stirred the heavenly phenomena, and red clouds rolled across the sky.

The barefoot man at the very front suddenly raised his head, staring in that direction, cold light flashing in his eyes.

“…You are indeed here.”

His voice was like ice beads shattering. The ice grass around him moved without wind, cold wind shrieked above his head, and countless piercing ice fragments appeared.

Everyone silently followed him as he turned in a new direction, toward Chentie.

The sky darkened, the setting sun dimmed, and the red clouds at the horizon suddenly split with a line.