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The Wolf-Ape Battalion’s first battle was brutal enough to shatter the heart — yet it was precisely through that brutality that they broke open a city the enemy had fought to the last to hold.

Mei City was Pei Qi’s final territory. It was the capital of the Great Zhou Empire — a dynasty destined to be as short-lived as it was newly born.

From the moment the decision was made to advance into Shu Province, the Wolf-Ape Battalion had been built for this purpose — the finest soldiers from every unit, forged by the most hardened hunters.

Before they became hunters, they were already the battlefield’s harvesters.

When hunter and harvester became one, they became the masters of the battlefield.

The young general Gao Zhen used this battle to say everything that needed saying. He had grown up — he was no longer the Gao Zhen who crumbled under pressure and couldn’t carry a burden.

The moment he stood straight on that wall and used his own body to shield his soldiers from the arrows, he became, in the truest sense of the word, a great commander.

Not yet in rank — but one day, beyond any doubt.

The Ning main force washed through the breach like a tide, flooding swiftly into the city.

Battle spread from the walls to every street.

The founding Emperor of the Zhou Kingdom — perhaps also its last — Pei Qi, who had thought himself a man who could determine the fate of the realm, now stood with a face drained of all color.

He understood that fighting on, no matter how desperately, had lost all meaning. The Ning army was in the city. His empire’s dream was over.

Who in this world, in open battle today, could withstand even a single blow from the Ning army?

When the walls fail, thinking you can stop them with human bodies alone — that’s not worth a second thought.

And so Pei Qi chose to flee.

He slipped quietly from the army and, moving as fast as he could, returned to his Imperial Palace.

There, he ordered his palace guards to protect his Madam — no, the Empress and his consorts — to change into common clothes, and to leave through the city’s other gate.

He took his Madam’s hand, his voice barely steady: “Once you’re outside, return to your home village and lie low. I will stay behind with the guards to cover your retreat. If I can’t catch up with you — I have set aside enough at your home village for all of you to live on comfortably.”

His Madam broke into sobs. Pei Qi pushed her toward the carriage and turned away.

In this most desperate moment, she was moved by his choice. She wanted nothing more than for him to leave with her — but his resolute, departing stride made her cries feel hollow and powerless.

Back in the palace, Pei Qi immediately had his guards find him common clothes. With a few dozen of his most capable fighters, he slipped out through the palace’s rear gate under cover of the chaos.

His Madam was still feeling moved. She did not know that Pei Qi had used her and the other women as bait to draw any Ning pursuit away.

Pei Qi had no children. For a man like him, how could he have ever truly cared for any of his women?

That not one of them had given him a son — that was Pei Qi’s deepest grievance.

Though, if he had ever been willing to think about it clearly, he might have realized he should look inward for the answer.

If only his first wife had failed to conceive, that might be attributed to both of them. But with so many women in his household — and not a single child among them — who truly bore the fault? Did he genuinely have no sense of it?

After leaving the palace, Pei Qi made for the hills behind the city.

Mei City was built at the foot of a mountain. Through the other city gate, a path led up into the mountain — a reasonably cleared trail that could take travelers to the far side of the range.

This route was carefully guarded as a secret. Even so, Pei Qi had not taken it for himself — he had sent the women that way.

There was another path, far more hidden, known only to a handful including Pei Qi himself.

A man like Pei Qi — how could he ever have prepared fewer than two ways out?

He was a man of grand vision — how else could he have cultivated both Yang Xuanji and Han Feibao? He was a man of careful maneuvering — how else could he have moved so freely through the treacherous collapse of the Great Chu dynasty?

This hidden mountain path was his final contingency for his own life.

Once inside, he had no intention of crossing the mountain entirely. Several supply caches waited in the hills — secretly stocked over time by his most trusted men.

Those few confidants had been carrying supplies into the mountains at regular intervals. Enough to sustain Pei Qi for several months.

His plan was to move along the mountain and emerge roughly a hundred li from Mei City.

The route had been scouted on foot. The mountain terrain was brutal — it would take at least one to two months.

As long as the supplies held, one or two months was something to simply endure.

A man of Pei Qi’s temperament would never have limited himself to one or two hiding places.

He had dozens of properties throughout the Central Plains, under dozens of different identities. He owned numerous businesses, none in his own name.

He had even prepared for a life beyond the sea. If there was truly no chance of a comeback in the Central Plains — he could sail south to a place called Qiuli. He had bought a great sweep of forested land there, and an estate had been fully built and waiting for him.

Even if he let the dream of ruling the Central Plains go entirely, he could cross the sea and live as a wealthy lord.

Once a man releases a grand ambition, he finds it easier to feel satisfied. By the time Pei Qi entered the mountains, the thought that occupied him most was that place called Qiuli — somewhere he had never been, somewhere he had barely ever considered.

It had been a contingency born of a single idle thought. After that thought, he had never returned to it. Had he not been so completely ruined, he might never have remembered it existed.

He did not think, as he entered the mountains, of going to Su Province — even though he had built an enormous estate there.

He did not think of going to Yue Province either — which would have made the most practical stepping stone.

More and more, he found himself wanting to sail away and leave the Central Plains behind forever. What was any of it for — the ambition, the schemes, the great designs? None of it meant anything now.

Fifty of his strongest guards protected him as they moved through the deep mountains in the darkness. The battle cries, the din, the screaming and weeping — all of it was left behind.

When Pei Qi looked back, even the firelight had disappeared, swallowed by the dense trees.

They walked through most of the night. The guides at the front — the very men who had built this escape route — moved in a kind of daze. They had truly never believed this path would need to be used.

Markers had been laid along the route to prevent them losing their way. Each marker was to be erased after passing, so the Ning army couldn’t follow.

The mountain entrance was concealed behind a large boulder. After they passed through, the boulder was rolled back into place. It was virtually impossible to find from outside.

As long as they didn’t lose their way, nothing should go wrong.

Near dawn, exhaustion overcame them. Pei Qi was no longer young — he had reached his limit and couldn’t walk further. He called a short rest.

Fortunately, even in the haste of escape, every man had brought water and food.

They found a place to sit and eat. The guide came to Pei Qi and said: one more day’s walk and they would reach the first shelter. Water and rations could be replenished there, and fresh clothes and equipment were waiting.

Pei Qi nodded — then laughed softly, for no particular reason.

Such was life. Great rises and great falls, and none of it within a person’s control.

The moment you believe you have mastered your fate, life steps in to show you what it means to have nothing at all.

He ate a little. Some strength returned. He sat and breathed out a long, slow breath.

“I was never anything to begin with…”

Pei Qi smiled. No one dared speak — they couldn’t be certain of his mood.

Pei Qi said: “Even as a ruined emperor in flight — once I arrive somewhere, I will still be a man of considerable wealth. Compared to my childhood. Compared to my youth. Still far better than most. And I can still give every one of you a generous reward.”

Another slow exhale.

He had never been a direct heir of the Pei family — every step of his rise as a frontier administrator had been clawed for through his own maneuvering. The Pei family had given him little. Which was precisely why he had needed to invent the fiction of Zhou Fuzi’s lineage — the Pei name alone had never been enough.

“It doesn’t matter,” Pei Qi said with a quiet smile. “I will take you all overseas. We will live as lords. In that place, every one of you will be a master. Every one of you will have your own estate, great numbers of slaves, and more wealth than you can count. You have guarded me and brought me this far — I will not forget any of you.”

Everyone offered their thanks.

For them, having come this far, Pei Qi’s plan seemed like the best option remaining.

Go overseas. Be lords among common people. When you thought about it — it didn’t sound too bad.

“Your Majesty.”

One of the guards spoke: “I have always wanted to know — were you truly descended from Zhou Fuzi?”

Pei Qi looked at him. Then laughed. “You actually believed that?”

The guard shook his head: “I never truly believed it. I only wanted to hear Your Majesty say it out loud — that you are not descended from Zhou Fuzi.”

Pei Qi smiled: “Of course I’m not. And who actually is — I have no interest.”

“I am.”

The guard suddenly erupted into motion — a blade punched through Pei Qi’s heart.

The sudden violence left everyone stunned. Not a single person had anticipated that someone among their own number had come here to kill Pei Qi.

The guard’s blade was buried deep in Pei Qi’s chest, both hands pressing hard on the hilt.

“You are not a descendant of the sage. Why would you do something that desecrates the sage’s name?”

“The sage’s reputation — it cannot be allowed to be defiled by someone like you…”

With what remained of his fading voice, Pei Qi asked: “Who… who in the world are you?!”

The guard looked steadily into Pei Qi’s eyes and turned the blade slowly.

“You should have heard this name.”

He said it word by word: “The Sacred Blade Sect.”

“I left the Sacred Blade Sect long ago — because even they had begun to use the sage’s name as a banner for their own purposes.”

“I came to Shu Province to live quietly. I took a post in your army. I never once told anyone that I was a descendant of Zhou Fuzi.”

“But I never imagined — that you would use this means to drag the sage’s name through the mud. That you would dare to impersonate the sage’s lineage.”

He drew the blade out and stepped back.

He looked at the remaining men: “You may act now.”

They looked at him. Then at each other.

No one moved.

A long silence. Then one man spoke: “What’s the point now… he’s already dead. Let’s go look for what he put away. Split it among everyone.”

“Right — he’s dead. No need for any more killing…”

“No one here is going to raise a hand against you. Come with us. Going back isn’t going to give you a good life either.”

The man who had killed Pei Qi stood there, unmoving.

He had been ready to die. He had truly never expected things to end this way.

He looked at Pei Qi — already still and lifeless — and then looked at the others.

Unexpectedly, he found he wanted to laugh.