A thunderous crash shook the earth. Dust and soil erupted in a column, and fire and black smoke billowed up from the center of the parade ground.

The explosion jolted my heart into my throat. I cried out before I could stop myself: “Prince Yuzhang—”

In an instant the world turned to chaos — smoke and dust and grit flying everywhere, the situation impossible to read, the shouts of men tangled with the screaming of terrified horses into an undifferentiated roar.

Where General Xu Shou had stood with his horse only a moment before, there was now a deep crater blasted into the earth.

The outer ring of black-armored infantry had heavy shields and had taken some casualties — several men had been thrown to the ground, but the losses appeared limited. Xu Shou, however — that one man, his horse, and the close guards around him — had been caught directly in the center of the blast. There was likely nothing left of them at all.

A living person, and then, just like that, gone from the world before my eyes.

My ears rang. My mind went white and blank. Terror and shock surged up together into my chest, and cold sweat soaked through my clothes.

I was swaying, on the verge of losing my footing — and then through the smoke and haze, from the right flank of the army, a black command banner embroidered in gold was raised high.

The banner snapped and flew — and from beneath it, a magnificent jet-black war horse reared and plunged forward.

Xiao Qi sat upright in the saddle, his sword drawn free of the scabbard. The cold light of the blade sliced through the air like a bolt of lightning.

That blaze of sword light seared into my eyes.

In my chest, something I had never felt before broke loose with a force I could not contain.

“Send word to Chahan — unleash the ambush.” Helan Zhen snapped coldly, turning to issue the command.

“Yes, sir!” The attendant took the order and was gone.

Then a voice cut in: “Wait—” The bearded man stepped forward with urgency. “Young Master — they were prepared for us. Someone must have given us away.”

“And so?” Helan Zhen’s grip on my shoulder tightened suddenly, and pain shot through to the bone.

I bit down on my lip, refusing to cry out.

The bearded man said through gritted teeth, “The situation is against us. I beg the Young Master to order a retreat and withdraw immediately.”

“Helan Zhen has never known the word retreat in his life.” Helan Zhen let out a wild, fierce laugh. “Xiao Qi — today I will bring us both down together.”

The assembled fighters behind him spoke as one: “We pledge our lives to follow the Young Master.”

The bearded man stood rigid, his eyes locked on Helan Zhen. After a long moment, he drew a heavy breath, pressed his hand to his sword hilt, and bowed. “I will fight and die at your side.”

Then from the field below came the sound of the signal horn — slow and mournful.

Xiao Qi’s voice, steady and authoritative, cut through the chaos and carried across the parade ground: “Enemy agents have struck at the imperial envoy. They have brought chaos to this frontier. Their crime deserves death.”

As his words spread across the field, the soldiers rallied and settled at once.

He was seen standing at his horse’s side, sword extended, his voice ringing out to every corner of the ground: “Listen to my orders — seal off the perimeter. Any enemy combatant encountered is to be killed without exception.”

For one instant of absolute stillness — and then the entire ground erupted in a single shout: “Kill—”

A wave of sound like thunder, and blades and swords came screaming from their scabbards all at once.

And then, at this very moment, everything changed again.

A point of firelight with a sharp, shrieking whistle dove straight at Xiao Qi’s horse. Xiao Qi wheeled the horse backward. The firelight hit the ground and burst apart like a lightning bomb, sending fragments of shattered stone flying in every direction. At nearly the same instant, several dark shapes seemed to melt out of the surrounding soldiers like ghosts.

Blades caught the light — a black figure leaped into the air and from directly above brought a heavy shower of white powder down over Xiao Qi, a blinding cloud of quicklime falling in a sheet from overhead. Two more men rolled from ground level to the horse’s front legs, blades slashing horizontally at the horse’s hooves.

It all happened in an instant.

Yet faster than any of it — a wall. A shield wall. A cold, dense iron shield wall, as if conjured from nowhere, crashing into place like the fist of some warrior god.

Five heavily armored guards materialized from the chaos with the speed of lightning, long blades drawn, their black iron heavy shields clanging together into a solid barrier — planted directly in front of Xiao Qi’s horse at the last possible moment, forming a wall that no blade or spear could breach, cutting off the first assault.

The strike had missed. The six assassins immediately broke formation and scattered to find an opening through the ring.

The guards roared together, their shields crossing in a sweep, blades flaring long, closing in to surround the attackers, and hand-to-hand combat erupted between them.

A furious horse cry split the sky — and Xiao Qi broke through the ring and drove out.

Two assassins screamed and launched themselves in pursuit. The rest of the attackers, throwing all thought of survival aside, fought at close quarters, every move lethal, exchanging their lives to drag the guards down and buy those two a path through blood.

The two flanked Xiao Qi on either side — iron spear sweeping from one side, heavy halberd driving in from the other like a gale, each aimed at unhorsing him.

No one saw the moment clearly. No one could see how death had been sent and turned aside.

Only this — a lightning flash seemed to illuminate the field, cold light rising, a brightness that made the eyes ache.

The assassins’ blades drew blood three feet in the air — the general’s blade swept one state clean of fourteen enemies in a single stroke.

In the space of a single electric instant, Xiao Qi passed through with horse and rider both, cape flying, long sword white and gleaming.

Where the exchange had taken place, a spray of blood was still drifting slowly down through the air — the two assassins both lay dead on the ground, heads separated from bodies.

And still the quicklime had not fully fallen. That white-gray powder, threaded now with crimson red, continued to drift and settle on the wind, falling in a pattern of red and white across the ground.

Ambush — engagement — breakthrough — the final kill — the assassins eliminated. All of it in a single breath.

“Prince Yuzhang’s princess is here — who dares move—”

A sudden shout rang out, shaking the entire field, coming from the direction of the signal fire tower to the south of the parade ground.

My heart lurched. My eyes flew to the signal tower — and there, as I had half expected, was a woman in red, bound to the upper platform, two men holding crossed blades at her throat.

A false princess. A trap. A piece of bait — but bait with poison in it.

The soldiers, blades already out, halted in confusion at the sound of that cry. A wave of noise broke across the ground, and tens of thousands of eyes turned as one toward Xiao Qi.

The man on the tower screamed, “Xiao Qi — if you want the princess to live, come out alone and fight me to the end.”

The soldiers had already surged in like a tide, surrounding the signal tower completely, leaving one corridor open in the center — a straight path to Xiao Qi’s position.

Xiao Qi reined his horse to a stop, looked up, and gave a slight, cold smile. “Release the princess, and I will leave you your life intact.”

His voice was steady, carrying an absolute and contained lethality.

The figure on the tower let out a harsh, wild laugh. “Kill you first — then kill your wife.”

I could no longer hold it back. “Don’t—” I called out.

The instant the words left my lips, Helan Zhen grabbed my jaw and crushed it shut — no more sound would come.

“What were you trying to say?” His breath was cold at my ear. “Don’t — what? Don’t save her? A pity you’re here, out of earshot. He will never hear you, no matter how you scream.”

His low laugh continued. “But I must admit I am curious to see — whether he will truly stake his life to save ‘you.'”

I wrenched my head sideways and bit down hard on Helan Zhen’s hand.

He recoiled with the pain, and swung back with one sharp palm strike.

The world went dark before my eyes. Blood filled my mouth. I stumbled, and Helan Zhen caught me and pulled me against him.

“Look — he has gone to save you after all…” Helan Zhen’s voice drifted to me as though from underwater.

The blow had left me dizzy and dazed, my vision still dark — yet in my chest, something bitter and warm rose together, impossible to separate.

I did not want him to fall into the trap. I did not want him to go save a false princess — and yet when I heard that he had ridden toward her, something aching and tender stirred in my heart, despite everything.

Xiao Qi had already ridden toward the base of the signal tower, and the crossbows and arrows on the platform had all swung to train on him.

Then Xiao Qi pulled his horse to a sharp halt and let out a single fierce command: “Move.”

Both sides of the army formation erupted with a roar.

Five lines of shield infantry overlapped into five walls of shields, rising between Xiao Qi and the tower. Four massive stones launched simultaneously from within the formation, hurled toward the four corners of the signal tower — wherever the stones passed, the pillars cracked and shattered, screams cut off mid-cry. The formation had concealed siege crossbow-catapults, already set in place. Clearly Xiao Qi had known their plan well in advance, had arranged all of this in advance, and had only been waiting for them to spring the trap and walk into his.

The hidden archers and crossbowmen at all four corners were struck by the flying fragments of stone, and toppled from the platform. Those who survived the fall were met by halberds and spears waiting below.

I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to look.

Stone chips flew close, the danger close and overwhelming — that false “princess” was caught in the center of it all. There was no way of knowing whether she was alive or dead. He had gone through with it, in the end.

Xiao Qi leveled his sword toward the high platform and said with iron authority: “Take the platform. Kill them all. Leave no one.”

Those words shook me to my core. I felt the reverberations long after — both for the sheer and absolute force of that command, and for the cold and merciless heart that gave it.

What a Prince Yuzhang. What a husband. He would sooner shatter the jade than bend to even half a measure of coercion from an enemy — but if it had truly been me up there? If I had been the one on that platform — would you truly have been that ruthless?

“Such a pity — your life is nothing to him, he simply doesn’t care…” Helan Zhen’s voice ground out through his teeth, dripping with venom, yet there was something like a savage smile in it. He wrenched my face up with brutal force and made me look toward the field. “It’s clear he doesn’t care at all — and yet he cannot not save her. You are still a useful piece in his game of power, a valuable piece he is not willing to throw away — so don’t worry.”

Every word Helan Zhen spoke was like a needle driving straight into my heart. And the worst of it was that I understood — what he said was true.

I was a piece, a crucially important piece — but still only a piece. My life and death and suffering were not, in themselves, what mattered.

My vision blurred and stung, and the tears that threatened were forced back through clenched will. Even now I could see the soldiers on the field shifting formation, shield infantry moving to the rear, spear and halberd infantry pressing forward, men carrying scaling ladders lowering them into place from two sides. Covering archers held the perimeter, while elite soldiers with short blades climbed the ladders, moving with the discipline and ferocity of men who had spent their lives in battle. The Helan fighters holding the platform fought to the last, falling back step by step, cut down one by one at the front of the line.

The false princess was pushed back to the center of the platform by those holding her. The man holding her cried out at the top of his voice: “The princess is in my hands — Xiao Qi, if you dare—”

His voice stopped.

Cut off by a wolf-fang arrow with white fletching, the arrowhead driving clean through his throat.

Xiao Qi’s arrow. Shot through a hundred paces, sealed the throat in one shot.

The man who had fired that arrow stood tall on his horse, his bow still raised, the iron bowstring still quivering.

I closed my eyes. A quiet ache opened beneath my ribs.

Before me rose a memory of many years ago — that first distant glimpse at the capital troop review — that same figure from far away, black helmet, white plume, an image of martial brilliance and power. Now and then, past and present, overlapping and intertwining in this single moment.

The long wind from the frontier tossed my hair loose, and seemed to stir something in my chest as well — something I could not name, could not quite bring myself to look at directly.

The last of the Helan fighters were killed.

The three armies cheered like thunder. The soldiers who had been first to take the platform carefully brought the false “princess” down.

Xiao Qi sheathed his sword and rode forward.

This time, he had no escort, no attendants — only a single deputy general following at his back.

Behind me, Helan Zhen suddenly went very still, and then his arm closed around my throat.

I opened my mouth. No sound came. A cry was strangled in my throat.

No — Xiao Qi — that is not me.

In that terrible instant, I felt with a sickening clarity: Xiao Qi did not even recognize me. He had never once laid eyes on my face.

The soldier carrying the false “princess” had already brought her to Xiao Qi’s horse — no more than a yard between them. Xiao Qi halted. The false princess pulled herself free of the soldier’s support, trembling, and walked toward him, her clothing and hair drifting in the wind.

She tilted her head back, and raised both arms outward—

Almost simultaneously, the silver-armored general who had been riding silently at Xiao Qi’s side spurred his horse and burst forward, his red-tasseled iron spear sweeping in a silver arc, and struck something out of the air with a ringing clash. That frail, supposedly injured “princess” sprang like a startled hare, and from beneath her sleeve, another sliver of cold light shot out.

“She is not the princess!” the silver-armored general bellowed, twisting backward to avoid the sleeve-arrow, and drove his spear straight at her throat.

The guards on either side surged in immediately, forcing the false princess who was Xiao Ye’s stand-in back three yards. Spears and halberds came down together.

“Keep her alive,” Xiao Qi rode up, his voice hard and low. “Where is the princess?”

My heart was nearly hammering its way out of my chest. I struggled with every fiber of strength I had, desperate to cry out.

A piercing, desolate laugh rang out. “I have failed the Young Master — may the Young Master go on…”

The last word cut off mid-sound. Xiao Ye made no further noise — she had taken her own life, there and then.

“Fool.” Helan Zhen’s composure in the face of it was something beyond what I had expected.

Before I could make sense of what was happening on the field, my body went taut — I was hoisted up and lifted, and found myself on horseback, held firmly in front of Helan Zhen.

A furious horse’s cry. Beneath us the white horse reared and launched itself forward, down the hidden slope, straight toward the open parade ground — straight toward Xiao Qi.

The wind rushed past, the horse’s mane lashing in the air.

Morning light struck the iron armor and gleamed. Spears and halberds stood in dense array. A wave of black iron stretched across my vision, a sea of soldiers and weapons blocking the way.

And in the center of that sea, the figure of Xiao Qi — heroic as a deity — was riding toward us through the morning light, and growing closer with every breath.

Across ten thousand people. Across the divide between life and death. His blazing gaze met mine at last.

I could not see the face beneath that helmet and battle mask, but that gaze — that gaze burned straight through me, down to the marrow.

In an instant, the formation ahead closed in. Infantry with heavy shields took the rear, spear and halberd units to the front, and with a single collective shout they encircled us completely.

Thousands of crossbow bolts from every direction were aimed at me and at Helan Zhen — arrows nocked and ready, blades drawn and gleaming, the cold reflected light of weapons sharp and blinding. A single moment more and both of us, horse and riders, would be reduced to nothing.

Xiao Qi raised his hand. Tens of thousands went silent.

The hand Helan Zhen had pressed to my throat began to tremble in that moment, perspiration seeping from his palm, and he tightened the grip slightly.

I almost smiled. He was afraid. And in this moment, the only piece he had left was me — he was afraid, which meant he had already lost half of this.

“Prince Yuzhang — I trust you are well.” Helan Zhen smiled with studied elegance.

“Helan, lord — it has been a long time.” Xiao Qi gave a broad, easy laugh. His gaze — ice-cold as it swept across Helan Zhen — came to rest on my face and lingered.

The contempt in that gaze for Helan Zhen was absolute, as if Helan Zhen were barely worth noticing.

Helan Zhen’s cool hand rose to stroke my cheek, and he said toward Xiao Qi, “Look who I have brought to meet you.”

Xiao Qi’s faint smile remained, but the light in his eyes hardened slowly.

“We have been apart so long — surely the Prince has not forgotten his own wife?” Helan Zhen laughed coldly and gripped my jaw.

I bit down on my lip and looked steadily at Xiao Qi, trying to take him in fully — but suddenly my vision blurred with a rush of tears.

Three years apart. This was our first true meeting, at last — and it had come to this, under circumstances such as these.

What did he see when he looked at me now? A princess? A wife? A piece on a board? Perhaps, by this point, none of these mattered.

In this single moment, everything depended on what he chose to do — and his choice was my life or my death.

When I thought of it, a strange tranquility settled over me, and all fear left.

I held Xiao Qi’s gaze, and it felt as though there were a thousand things to say — yet in the end we only looked at each other in silence. And that silence, it seemed, provoked Helan Zhen into fury.

With a sudden sharp twist of his wrist, he produced a dagger, its blade chilled with cold air, and pressed it to my throat.

The moment he brought out the weapon, the row of crossbowmen behind Xiao Qi drew their bowstrings back to full tension in unison.

“Your Highness!” The silver-armored general’s cry of alarm rang out. He had been on the verge of speaking further — but Xiao Qi raised one hand and silenced him.

Xiao Qi’s gaze was deep and still, and gave me a strange sensation — like standing in full noon summer sun, the scalding brilliance making it impossible to open your eyes, yet beneath that blazing intensity, there was also a kind of exhilarating, vanquishing clarity.

I closed my eyes. It was as though I had truly been seared by sunlight. With a soft, surrendered breath, I smiled.

So be it. Life and death are fate’s to give. I asked only for composure — to meet it without shaming the name I carried.

“Tell me what you want.” Xiao Qi’s voice was quiet and flat — and yet hearing it in my ears was like a thunderclap.

With those words, he had accepted Helan Zhen’s hostage-taking, and agreed to negotiate with him.

Helan Zhen burst into open laughter. “Well said — a hero and a beauty, perfectly matched.”

I could hold back no longer. I looked down, and my lashes were wet.

“First — open the southern gate. Let my people leave. The army is not to pursue.” Helan Zhen was still smiling, smiling as though he had never felt such complete and unrestrained pleasure. “Second — if you want your woman back, come face me alone, single combat. If you can take her from me, I swear I will not harm a hair on her head.”

Xiao Qi gave a cold smile. “Is that all?”

“Agreed.” Helan Zhen said with a snort, gave the reins a shake, and pulled the horse back several paces, pulling me tighter against him.

Before the assembled three armies, beneath the eyes of ten thousand soldiers, Xiao Qi rode his horse out of the formation — black helmet, white plume, his great cape lifting in the wind.

He raised his right hand slowly, and said in a measured voice: “Open the southern gate.”

Beyond the southern gate lay steep, wooded terrain. Once a person escaped into it, pursuit would be nearly impossible.

Helan Zhen held the dagger against me, keeping me pinned in front of him, and slowly walked his horse backward, retreating with the rest of his surviving people toward the southern gate.

The gate mechanism ground and grated as the gate lifted.

The dagger’s cold edge pressed against my throat. I turned to look back — and my eyes met Xiao Qi’s across the distance — deep and searching, a thousand things unsaid. My heart lurched. Here, at the edge between life and death, I felt, to my own surprise, that one faint and softening thread — the one thing I had not expected to feel in this moment. But there was no time to look, no time to read what lay in his eyes. Helan Zhen had already wheeled the horse around and was riding hard through the open gate, one rider leading, straight into the narrow mountain path beyond.