After daybreak, Liang Shiji, who had taken advantage of the chaos to kill his superior, suddenly realized something very awkward: though he had successfully seized Wang Chengwu’s commander’s seal, Chengde’s elite cavalry that they depended on for survival had been slaughtered to the last man, and their warhorses had also vanished without a trace. Without this crack force, Chengde, as one of the three Hebei military regions, could hardly still be called a powerful domain.
At the same time, he received battle reports that Youzhou’s Lulong forces were assembling at the border in Yingzhou, intending to march south.
Youzhou to the north was already in Prince Shao Li Yuanying’s pocket, while Zhaoyi to the south was a domain loyal to the court. Caught between these two forces, Liang Shiji clearly understood he must make a choice quickly.
He placed his superior’s severed head in a wooden box and hurriedly rushed to Jingxing with a group of personal guards, wanting to meet that mysterious commander who had seized the strategic pass with merely a hundred men, connecting Youzhou above and allying with Zhaoyi below, wielding power to overturn clouds and rain. The Guangping Commandery Lady responsible for winning him over said that the only compensation this person demanded was Wang Chengwu’s head.
Outside Jingxing Pass, defeated soldiers lay stacked like haystacks. After making contact with Madam Yu, Liang Shiji practically crawled on hands and knees over the pile of corpses to enter the pass interior. The temporary commander’s tent was set up behind this wall-like heap of defeated subordinates.
After Madam Yu announced him, Liang Shiji took a deep breath, lifted the tent flap, and strode inside.
Guards stood flanking both sides, protecting the commander in the center. He saw her sitting on a crude camp chair, her armor bathed in blood, arms casually draped over her knees, both hands covered with wounds, looking very exhausted. When he clearly saw this expressionless face, Liang Shiji was immediately stunned.
Before him was actually a woman, and a very young woman at that.
“This humble one, Chengde General Liang Shiji, pays respects to…” He stopped, not knowing how to address her.
Yuan Shaobo announced solemnly in a loud voice: “This is a descendant of Tang Emperors Gaozu and Taizong, daughter of the current Son of Heaven, sister of Youzhou Governor Prince Shao—Princess Wanshou Li Baozhu.”
Liang Shiji stood frozen in place. After a moment, he hesitantly asked: “Princess… isn’t the princess already…”
Bao Zhu remained calm, saying in a flat tone: “I inherited the heavenly mandate, achieved corpse liberation and ascended to immortality, then returned to the mortal world.”
Liang Shiji’s emotions surged like waves, churning restlessly. If these words had been spoken before last night, he would have dismissed them as absurd nonsense.
But overnight the situation had transformed dramatically: Youzhou’s Lulong forces assembled on the northeastern border, Zhaoyi forces followed her commands and slaughtered all the cavalry. He had climbed over layer upon layer of corpse piles outside Jingxing Pass to reach this military tent, and the messenger who delivered information for her was a third-rank court-appointed noble lady.
At this moment, even if this young woman claimed to be the Mysterious Goddess of the Nine Heavens descended from above, he wouldn’t dare show the slightest disrespect and must take her seriously.
“This Liang… your subordinate…” After struggling with various humble forms of address, Liang Shiji respectfully bowed: “Your subject Liang Shiji pays respects to Your Highness.”
He presented with both hands the wooden box containing Wang Chengwu’s severed head. A guard took the box, brought it before her and opened it for her to glance at.
“Congratulations, Commander Liang, for achieving your wish to seize Chengde’s leadership position.” Bao Zhu spoke neither warmly nor coldly.
“Your subject owes today’s circumstances entirely to Your Highness’s favor.”
“Commander, you’re currently in the limelight, but to sit securely in the Military Governor’s position, you’re probably still lacking some qualifications.”
Liang Shiji naturally knew what she was referring to. Though Hebei had separated into autonomous regions, they didn’t possess the strength to independently claim kingship and nominally remained subjects of the Li Tang dynasty. Regardless of whether they paid taxes, the consensus among court and common people was that military regions acknowledged Chang’an’s emperor as the universal sovereign.
Though he could establish himself as Military Governor, without officially issued military banners from the court, he had no way to suppress those arrogant and fierce generals under his command for long. Today the head in the wooden box belonged to Wang Chengwu; tomorrow it might well be his own, Liang’s.
Moreover, with Chengde’s elite cavalry completely decimated, continuing to maintain autonomous rule in Hebei would be extremely difficult. Prince Shao commanded a hundred thousand troops—as long as Youzhou and Zhaoyi pressed their advantage, Chengde would disappear entirely. At this point, pledging allegiance to Li Tang bloodline and expressing submission was the only way out.
“Please convey on my behalf: Liang Shiji is willing to submit to Chang’an, pay tribute and taxes. From now on, Chengde will be Li Tang territory, obeying the Son of Heaven’s commands.” Despite his heavy armor, Liang Shiji struggled to bow down, kneeling with both knees and performing the kowtow ritual.
“Military Governor Liang is a wise man.” Bao Zhu was fairly satisfied with his attitude and changed her form of address, saying slowly: “According to court precedent, present the proof of your loyalty.”
Liang Shiji was startled, then understood her meaning. Wang Chengwu’s severed head was just an appetizer—using family members as hostages was the indispensable pledge of allegiance for submitting as a vassal.
He gritted his teeth, steeled his heart, and called loudly for a personal guard, ordering: “Quickly bring Ningning here.”
Moments later, a young general wearing mountain-pattern armor entered the tent, standing there helplessly. Seeing this, Liang Shiji urged and directed: “Remove your helmet and kneel in salute.”
The person quickly removed their helmet, revealing a youthful face of only seventeen or eighteen years.
“This is your subject’s eldest son, Liang Ningning.” After the introduction, Liang Shiji ordered the youth: “From now on you shall follow at Your Highness’s side, serving faithfully.”
“Father?” The youth hadn’t yet understood. Liang Shiji pushed him and urged again: “Go quickly. From now on you belong to Her Highness.”
The youth looked completely bewildered, holding his helmet and standing among the guard formation. Watching his father’s submissive demeanor and actions, only after a long moment did understanding dawn—he was now a hostage. He couldn’t help but steal glances at his new master. Sitting on the camp chair was a young woman about his own age who, despite being young and beautiful, gave off a bone-chilling feeling.
This wasn’t just because of her proud and noble bearing or naturally imposing presence, but more from that unique aura of fierce generals she possessed: the intense mixed scents of blood and corpse stench. These were marks left by battlefield slaughter, the imprint of death spirits clinging to her.
After offering his eldest son as hostage, Liang Shiji carefully ventured: “Your subject has one more matter to report. Before the bandit Wang Chengwu died, he made extensive inquiries about a certain… a certain treasure whose name is greatly disrespectful. He even specially sent people to seize it, though whether this information is true or false, your subject isn’t entirely certain.”
Having heard rumors about this mystical object countless times, Bao Zhu was already thoroughly sick of it and simply admitted frankly: “‘Overthrowing the Great Tang, bringing chaos to the realm.’ Ha, I already know about it—that thing has been in my possession all along.”
Seeing Liang Shiji’s shocked expression, she continued: “Otherwise, how could I have died and returned to life, possessing divine powers that are invincible in battle and unstoppable in assault? You may freely tell others: Wang Chengwu coveted divine artifacts and defied heaven’s will, which is why he met such a self-destructive end. Now that artifact has acknowledged me as its master—others shouldn’t harbor foolish delusions.”
After finishing, she added an instruction: “After I leave, properly bury the dead and dismantle all skull mounds within your territory, letting them rest in peace. You may withdraw.”
Liang Shiji was filled with suspicion and alarm but didn’t dare ask more questions, retreating step by step from the military tent.
Before long, someone else entered to report: Zhaoyi commander Han Jun requested an audience.
Bao Zhu was exhausted and didn’t want to see this person, but suddenly remembering Zhou Qingyang’s advice not to harbor resentment in her heart, she had him brought in. Looking up, she saw Han Jun with a bright forehead band and gleaming armor plates—he had obviously groomed himself specially before requesting the audience. Bao Zhu couldn’t help but sneer coldly in her heart.
She spoke mockingly: “What a handsome and dashing young general. Commander Han has made quite a name for himself this time, completely annihilating Chengde cavalry. With this unprecedented achievement alone, you should at least be promoted to Zhaoyi Military Commissioner.”
Upon hearing this, Han Jun quickly bowed in response: “Jun dare not claim heaven’s achievements. This battle relied entirely on Your Highness dispersing the warhorses and containing enemy forces. Without Your Highness’s strategic planning, we could never have achieved such results.”
While speaking, he carefully observed Bao Zhu, seeing she still wore that dirty blue cloth head wrap. After a night of fighting with her bow, several of her fingernails dyed with balsam juice had peeled off, revealing bloody flesh underneath—a truly pitiful sight.
“Aren’t you used to this by now? Every time I rack my brains and deploy troops, accomplishing the most difficult tasks, you come running to reap the fisherman’s profit, harvesting the battle results and glory.”
Hearing this sharp and harsh mockery, Han Jun felt bitter inside and said quietly: “Once the situation stabilizes, I’ll resign from my Zhaoyi position and go to Youzhou to serve Your Highness and the Great Prince.”
Upon hearing this, Bao Zhu rejected him cleanly: “I gave you a second chance to choose sides, and you refused. Now there’s no place for you at my side.”
As she spoke, she pointed to the blood-soaked officers and soldiers accompanying her and declared loudly: “Not just anyone can casually obtain ‘merit from following the dragon’—that’s glory earned by fighting bloody battles alongside me, risking death in combat. Sitting on the fence and only joining the battle when certain of victory—that’s called opportunistic scum!
Not daring to take the slightest risk, unwilling to suffer the smallest loss—just on this point alone, you’re truly an authentic Han family member, identical to your father. ‘Why don’t men carry Wu swords to conquer fifty border provinces?’ It seems this dirty, exhausting work still has to be done by me personally.”
After being thoroughly berated, Han Jun knew all was lost. In complete despair, he couldn’t help but shed tears. For years he had resented his father for obstructing his heaven-sent opportunity, yet this time, he had personally severed the red thread of fate and could blame no one else.
After finishing her satisfying tirade, Bao Zhu commanded coldly: “Take your military achievements and get lost. Next time I pass through Zhaoyi, you and Lu Xuanfu better weigh carefully who represents the true ‘imperial army.'”
Han Jun could say nothing more and departed dejectedly. There were still endless streams of people seeking audiences and pledging allegiance. Bao Zhu threw all aftermath matters to Yuan Shaobo and, taking only Wang Chengwu’s severed head, rode her donkey back to the Daoist temple base in Shiyi.
At dusk, with heavy twilight settling in, the quiet chamber was dim and dark, filled with the scent of medicinal herbs.
In this mountain village wilderness, proper incense for burial rites couldn’t be purchased. Shisan Lang had scattered some bitter-scented medicinal materials around the body, apparently trying to mask the gradually emerging corpse odor. Everyone had done their utmost.
“Today is your seventh day, and also my eighteenth birthday. In the past, you always took enemy heads—this time it was my turn.”
Bao Zhu placed the wooden box containing her enemy’s skull before Wei Xun’s bed as an offering. His handsome, pale face was hidden in the twilight—at first glance, he looked no different from when alive. But she no longer dared reach out to touch him, fearing the sensation would be like today’s corpses, destroying precious memories of the past.
“Every arrow found its mark, no revenge lasted beyond night. In this one night, I personally killed more people than you did in your entire lifetime.”
She couldn’t cry, nor could she laugh. All her strength and emotions had been exhausted over these seven days, leaving only numb fatigue. Her legs and arms went limp with weakness. Bao Zhu leaned back against the bed and slowly sank to the floor, as if bearing Mount Tai on her body—her neck, shoulders, and lower back all sagged deeply.
“Is this the weight of destiny? It’s truly so heavy…”
She collapsed sitting before the spirit bed in silence until the last trace of the setting sun’s afterglow completely disappeared and the sky turned entirely black.
Cold crows cawed mournfully under the frosty moon. At some point, Madam Yu quietly entered and knelt gently beside her, lifting her hand to tuck a strand of gray, disheveled hair behind her ear.
“It’s time to let go, Princess,” she said softly.
Bao Zhu turned her head, leaning into the hollow of her neck. After a very long time, an extremely weak sob echoed in the quiet chamber:
“Prepare him for burial…”
Author’s Note: To wear the crown, one must bear its weight.