The moment Yang Dingshan realized Fang Biehan had outsmarted him, he turned his column around and rode hard toward Dou Qusheng. It wasn’t only about such a significant prize — more than anything, he saw this as the perfect opportunity to eliminate Jiang Wei.

The scheming within the Mu Camp was far more ruthless than any outsider could imagine.

Military Commissioner Pei Qi had always operated on a simple principle: the strong rise, the loyal rise. He rarely interfered in the infighting among his subordinates. He cared only that what he ordered would be carried out to his satisfaction.

Of the Mu Camp’s three great Liaison Officers, Jiang Wei was the sole outsider. He had been the target of constant suppression. Yet Jiang Wei’s ability was undeniable — Pei Qi relied on him for many matters — and Yang Dingshan and Dou Qusheng had never found a clean justification to remove him.

Now, the justification had arrived.

Watching the fighting ahead of him, Yang Dingshan called out immediately: “Charge through!”

His men surged forward.

By this point, Dou Qusheng was already injured. That first strike of Flowing Cloud Flying Sleeve against his chest — had it landed on any other man, that man would have already been on the ground. The fact that Dou Qusheng was still standing and fighting, even appearing to hold the upper hand at moments, spoke to something almost inhuman in him.

And that had been Mister Ye’s Flowing Cloud Flying Sleeve. Even a horse at full gallop would have its internal organs shattered by that technique.

The most troublesome aspect was that his Eagle Claw skill happened to be precisely what neutralized the Flowing Cloud Flying Sleeve.

Mister Ye was injured too — though less severely than Dou Qusheng, partly because Yu Hongyi and Chen Dingjia had joined him.

But now Dou Qusheng’s reinforcements had arrived, and he roared with swelling arrogance.

Several of Yang Dingshan’s Banner Officers leaped from their horses and dove straight at Mister Ye.

Yu Hongyi and Chen Dingjia exchanged a glance, then split apart — each taking a flank to keep Mister Ye’s back covered.

The battle dissolved into chaos. In all the turmoil, no one noticed that Jiang Wei had slipped away.

From the very beginning, no one had been able to guess what Jiang Wei was actually planning — not even Fang Biehan.

Somewhere in the crowd, Jiang Wei was lying flat on the ground, playing dead. But his eyes were fixed on Dou Qusheng — and on the Banner Officer standing beside Dou Qusheng.

Zhong Taolüe.

Dou Qusheng threw himself forward, trading palm strikes with Mister Ye at close range. Two torrents of force collided, and both men slid back.

In terms of inner power, movement technique, speed, and raw strength — the two were remarkably well-matched. Without outside interference, who could say how long it would take to determine a winner?

Yet Mister Ye’s injuries were lighter, which gave him a marginal edge. The difficulty was that his Flowing Cloud Flying Sleeve had been neutralized — even the sleeves had been torn open by the Eagle Claw.

Dou Qusheng grew increasingly savage, roaring as he bore down on Mister Ye: “You came all this way to die because Jiang Wei talked you into it — hahahaha! The great joke of the age: that anyone would actually listen to that man.”

Mister Ye answered with a palm strike. “It doesn’t matter who convinced me. Either way, you die today.”

Dou Qusheng swept his claw in a wide arc, unconcerned with the palm — if neither man changed their course, Mister Ye’s strike would land on his chest, and his claw would tear Mister Ye’s chest open.

Mister Ye inhaled deeply — and did something unexpected. He drew his body backward, then snapped it forward sharply. The front of his robe billowed outward like a sail catching a sudden gust.

Dou Qusheng’s claw raked into the fabric and tore it open. The breath held inside the garment escaped like air from a punctured bladder.

But in those few fractions of a second, Mister Ye had bought himself just enough time.

*Thud.*

His palm landed on Dou Qusheng’s chest.

At the moment of contact, Mister Ye’s brow creased.

The force hit and Dou Qusheng slid backward, the impact so powerful his legs couldn’t adjust — he skidded across the ground.

Mister Ye looked down at his own palm. Across it, dozens of tiny red marks had been left behind. His expression darkened slightly.

That earlier strike — the one that had hit Dou Qusheng’s chest with the full Flowing Cloud Flying Sleeve — he had thought it would end the fight then and there. Yet Dou Qusheng had barely been slowed.

Now he understood. The man was wearing an inner armor. And that armor was lined with reverse-facing spines.

Examining more closely, he noticed something about Dou Qusheng’s fingernails. Looking again — he finally saw it clearly.

Those ten fingers weren’t naturally that formidable. Fitted over each one was a custom-made finger guard. Crafted precisely enough to flex with the joint, with no loss of mobility; the tips weren’t sharpened to points, but curved inward — like eagle talons.

And the most insidious detail of all: the color of those finger guards matched human skin almost exactly. In the chaos of battle, no one had noticed them at all.

As the fighting went on, Mister Ye’s Flowing Cloud Flying Sleeve had stripped away whatever pigment had coated the guards — but that was only evident in hindsight.

“Nothing more than this,” Mister Ye said quietly, eyes narrowing with cold contempt.

Dou Qusheng had been knocked back. But he still caught every word. That arrogance of his — it was as though it had just been picked up and hurled to the ground.

“You will die here today!”

His feet drove down hard, qi shattering the earth beneath him. He launched himself like a steel-tipped bolt from a heavy crossbow — and was in front of Mister Ye before the sound of it caught up.

His two hands crossed in a sweeping strike. Mister Ye dropped into a low crouch to dodge, then turned the motion into a palm aimed at Dou Qusheng’s abdomen.

Dou Qusheng raised a knee to block it, and both hands snapped back around — striking at Mister Ye’s temples from both sides simultaneously.

But Mister Ye had already dropped fully to the ground, head driving forward and down, slipping under the double strike. Both his hands drove downward and struck the earth.

*BOOM.*

Two cyclones bored straight into the ground — detonating two deep craters in the soil. At the center of each crater: one of Dou Qusheng’s feet.

A cry of pain tore out of him. Dou Qusheng reflexively stumbled backward.

Those two palms had shattered the bones across the fronts of both his feet.

Through the blinding pain, Dou Qusheng could barely stay upright. “Help me!” he shouted.

Banner Officer Zhong Taolüe rushed forward to support him. Dou Qusheng rasped, voice raw: “Fall back.”

The words had barely left his mouth when his face went still. His entire expression froze.

A moment later, he looked down.

There was a dagger embedded in his chest.

Zhong Taolüe didn’t hesitate — he shoved Dou Qusheng away and drove a kick straight into the dagger’s handle.

*Thud.* With that kick, the blade drove all the way to the hilt.

“You… how dare—?!” Dou Qusheng stared at Zhong Taolüe, the disbelief still locked on his face. Zhong Taolüe kept his distance, still too wary of Dou Qusheng’s remaining strength to come closer.

“I am Senior Officer Jiang’s man,” Zhong Taolüe said, low and urgent, speaking to Mister Ye.

Mister Ye’s brow furrowed. The depths of intrigue within the Mu Camp shocked him once again. An organization that functioned almost identically to the Court of Justice — yet with none of its loyalty. Here, true trust between people apparently didn’t exist.

“Go that way,” Zhong Taolüe told Mister Ye. “In all this chaos, I’ll get you out.”

Mister Ye nodded and called out to Yu Hongyi and Chen Dingjia, ready to withdraw.

But in the moment he turned to call to them, Zhong Taolüe’s hand slipped to his sleeve — and drew a short blade.

It drove toward Mister Ye’s heart.

Mister Ye had dropped his guard — just slightly. That fraction of a second, distracted by concern for Yu Hongyi and the others, was all Zhong Taolüe needed.

This was entirely human nature. Zhong Taolüe had pointed the direction, and Mister Ye had instinctively glanced back to check.

That cunning — that cold, calculated viciousness — showed itself in its fullest form in that single moment.

The blade had already entered Mister Ye’s chest.

And then — a flash of light streaked in.

A saber.

*Clang.* The tip struck Zhong Taolüe’s short blade, deflecting it just a hair’s breadth from ending Mister Ye’s life. A single moment later and nothing would have stopped it.

A dark blur came from the side, airborne — consecutive kicks landed against Zhong Taolüe in rapid succession. Zhong Taolüe raised both arms to shield himself and was driven back step by step.

Fang Biehan landed. He reached out to steady Mister Ye, his face full of remorse.

Jiang Wei, who had been lying among the bodies pretending to be dead, had risen the moment Dou Qusheng fell — eyes wide. He had known the next instant would be Mister Ye’s death.

But he had never imagined it would be Fang Biehan who came back in time. And that the man who was supposed to be on his side had saved Mister Ye’s life instead.

“Old Fang!” Jiang Wei’s voice cracked with fury. “What are you doing?!”

Fang Biehan turned to face him. “What are *you* doing?!”

“Everything I’ve done is for *us!*” Jiang Wei shouted. “Why did you come back?!”

“I came back because I was worried about you,” Fang Biehan said. “Now I see your face — and I wish I hadn’t.”

“They’re the enemy!” Jiang Wei raged. “How can you not tell friend from foe?!”

Fang Biehan held his gaze. “Did you really plan all of this to avenge Erlí?”

The question struck Jiang Wei into silence.

Jiang Wei’s fury finally broke its own banks. He screamed at Fang Biehan: “What are you being an idiot about?!”

At that moment, they all saw it — Liaison Officer Yang Dingshan breaking away from the fighting, retreating at a run. Jiang Wei called out: “Zhong Taolüe — kill him!”

Zhong Taolüe immediately wheeled and gave chase.

Yang Dingshan had barely covered a few dozen *zhang* when a line of dozens of black-clad soldiers appeared ahead of him, a volley of crossbow bolts screaming in his direction. He flung himself flat against his horse’s neck.

The horse took multiple bolts and collapsed. Zhong Taolüe swept in, planted his boot on Yang Dingshan’s throat.

The force of that step was enough to make Yang Dingshan vomit blood on the spot.

A moment later, Zhong Taolüe took the saber passed to him by one of the black-clad soldiers and drew it across Yang Dingshan’s throat.

All of this had been Jiang Wei’s design — every detail calculated, every actor in place. There was only one thing he hadn’t accounted for.

Fang Biehan had come back.

He had instructed Fang Biehan to return to Qianmian County and stay there. Fang Biehan had followed his instructions at first — luring Yang Dingshan and then riding away. But halfway back, something inside him refused to let him go on, and he had turned his horse around.

Which meant he had seen all of it.

—