Chu Zhao’s movements were immediately known to Zhong Changrong and Xie Yanlai as well.

However, they had no prior knowledge that Chu Zhao would venture alone into danger at Prince Zhongshan’s estate.

Upon hearing the news, Zhong Changrong’s first thought was that Miss would die. He nearly abandoned everything to rush to Zhongshan Commandery, intending to surround it with thousands of troops and threaten Prince Zhongshan not to harm Miss.

“No need for you to make threats,” Xie Yanlai pressed him down into his chair. “If she dies in Prince Zhongshan’s estate, that would be the greatest threat to Prince Zhongshan.”

Zhong Changrong didn’t quite understand—to Prince Zhongshan, wasn’t Miss like a lamb walking into a tiger’s den?

“What kind of lamb is she?” Xie Yanlai scoffed. “Chu Ling’s daughter, Empress of Da Xia, commanding the Dragon’s Might Army, personally leading over a hundred thousand border troops to face the Xi Liang King—Chu Zhao is clearly a wolf.”

Zhong Changrong felt like laughing. Miss was a wolf? He certainly didn’t think so, but hearing Xie Yanlai’s words did ease his mind somewhat.

“Prince Zhongshan wants to become Emperor, not rebel. His troops approaching the capital under the pretense of protecting the capital, disputing with the decree-bearing ministers, using the Crown Prince’s arrogance as justification—he wants face, wants dignity, wants to vent the grievances from being harmed before, to become Emperor openly and aboveboard. If the Empress dies in his estate, his reputation as a rebel would be set in stone—” Xie Yanlai raised an eyebrow and said, “So rest assured, right now the ones who most want the Empress dead are not Prince Zhongshan, but Xie Yanfang and Deng Yi.”

This didn’t sound reassuring at all! Zhong Changrong was both annoyed and amused—didn’t that mean they couldn’t count on the court to rescue the Empress?

“Does Prince Zhongshan truly not dare to kill Miss?” he asked uncertainly.

At this moment, his mind was unsettled, and this young man had instead become his anchor.

It seemed that whatever this young man said, that’s how it was.

Only this young man’s words were never entirely satisfactory—

“That depends on whether Prince Zhongshan fears death,” Xie Yanlai smiled and said. “If he’s not afraid to die, then Chu Zhao will die.”

He then patted Zhong Changrong’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, if that happens, everyone will have to die.”

Everyone will have to die? Zhong Changrong looked at this fellow.

The fellow’s phoenix eyes slanted upward: “The court and Prince Zhongshan in a fight to the death, the Xi Liang King and Da Xia locked in endless conflict—the world will descend into chaos!”

Looking at his expression, he actually seemed to anticipate it. Zhong Changrong spat in disgust—madman.

However, since Prince Zhongshan made his move, the Xi Liang King’s attacks had been fierce, and the border army’s pressure was indeed great. But would they truly abandon Miss completely?

Zhong Changrong looked toward the distance—

“Guard the border commandery well,” Xie Yanlai said. “This is the only thing that benefits her. If something happens to the border commandery, the world will be in great—”

“The world will descend into chaos,” Zhong Changrong interrupted irritably. “Hanging this phrase on your lips all day long—I think you can’t wait for the world to descend into chaos.”

Xie Yanlai smiled: “The world descending into chaos means nothing to me, to the Xie clan—when the world is in chaos, we just pacify it again. Don’t you know what pacifying the world means?”

Zhong Changrong fell silent. He was a military general; of course he knew that chaotic times produced meritorious achievements.

“To prevent the world from descending into chaos—that would be Miss Chu’s great merit,” Xie Yanlai said flatly. “To seize merit, to compete for merit, one must naturally take risks. It won’t come from sitting peacefully and waiting.”

The young man finished speaking and mounted his horse.

Zhong Changrong watched him and sighed: “Everyone understands the logic you speak of, but—that’s A’Zhao—”

Night had already fallen, shrouding the earth. He looked toward the distance.

A’Zhao was fighting desperately against others.

If she lost, it meant death.

If she died, she would be gone.

Beside his ear, rapid hoofbeats sounded. Zhong Changrong turned to look and saw Xie Yanlai already sliding like an arrow into the northwestern night, with soldiers following close behind, torches gathering like scattered stars.

“Remember to dress your wounds!” he shouted loudly. “Don’t you die, you surnamed Xie—if you die, you won’t get to see the spectacle of the world descending into chaos!”

Galloping through the night, Xie Yanlai also rode at the forefront, with no one able to overtake him. He had always loved riding horses, loved running at the very front—that way he could leave everyone behind, with heaven and earth containing only himself, free and unrestrained, unbound and unencumbered—

He had no encumbrances to begin with; what in this world was worth his concern?

But—that was A’Zhao.

Xie Yanlai gripped the reins tightly.

What did he mean by unencumbered!

The one truly unencumbered was Chu Zhao!

Unencumbered, unfettered, fearless and undaunted—ready to die at a moment’s notice. She didn’t care what happened after death, didn’t care who worried, who couldn’t bear it, who grieved. She would only laugh toward the heavens and depart in satisfaction.

“But you’d better not die,” Xie Yanlai said through gritted teeth. “If you die, and the world descends into chaos with people suffering everywhere—even as a ghost, you won’t have peace!”

……

……

Night shrouded the earth. After the slaughter was interrupted, it didn’t continue. The gentle night breeze was full of the stench of blood, corpses had not yet been collected, survivors wept, the wounded wailed—between heaven and earth it was like a realm of ghosts.

Without the slaughter of flashing blades and swords, Xiao Yu, sitting in the central command tent, was still pale.

At this moment, he could no longer hear the people’s reverent shouts of “long live.” Filling his ears was only the sound of weeping.

The people’s reverence excited him; the people’s weeping also terrified him.

“Your Majesty,” Eunuch Qi couldn’t help but embrace him. “We’ve prepared calming tea—would you like to drink some?”

Xiao Yu shook his head, his spirit unsettled.

Eunuch Qi looked left and right, then took out a bamboo tube and pressed it into Xiao Yu’s hands: “Your Majesty, this old servant brought it for you.”

When Xie Yanfang had earlier led Xiao Yu out of the imperial city in haste, Eunuch Qi hadn’t brought anything except stuffing the bamboo tube in his belongings. However, after leaving the palace, with Xie Yanfang resting beside Xiao Yu, Xiao Yu slept very soundly, so he hadn’t taken it out.

Now seeing the child confused and vacant, unable to be comforted by words, Eunuch Qi brought out the bamboo tube. Sure enough, when Xiao Yu saw it, his vacant eyes brightened and he hastily clutched it tightly to his chest.

Eunuch Qi also breathed a sigh of relief. Although he still seemed somewhat uneasy, at least his spirit had returned. But what should they do next? He raised his head—through the tent he could see Xie Yanfang’s figure outside.

“Aren’t they reinforcements?” Xie Yanfang asked the general.

“They are indeed reinforcements, but they have no intention of attacking,” the general said in a low voice. “They’ve even recalled the previous troops and set up a defensive formation outside the city. We’ve provoked them several times with scouts and vanguards, but they just retreat and hide.”

“They’ve even started breaking camp and retreating,” another general said quietly.

Retreating?

Retreating—

Xie Yanfang’s eyes sharpened: “Continue attacking.”

The commander was startled—now?

“Of course now,” Xie Yanfang said. “The battle has been provoked—how can it end just because they retreat?”

This matter absolutely could not end here.

This battle absolutely must be fought!

……

……

“This battle must not be fought.”

In the thick night, the imperial city was brightly lit. The Grand Tutor’s hall was even more crowded with people watching Deng Yi hold up a letter, open it, and read out this line.

The Emperor personally led the expedition, but the court remained.

Although many officials clamored to accompany the Emperor on his personal expedition, ultimately not many went.

Deng Yi’s people naturally wouldn’t go to bolster Xie Yanfang’s prestige, and Xie Yanfang’s people wouldn’t leave the court to Deng Yi either. The imperial seal and the late Emperor’s regency decree were in Deng Yi’s hands. To put it disrespectfully, whether the Emperor was present or not made no difference—Deng Yi sat firmly in the court.

These past days, the court had been bustling day and night, watching for news from His Majesty’s side while not forgetting the border army. Since Empress Chu led troops to besiege Zhongshan Commandery, Prince Zhongshan had been too busy to attend to anything else, and the severed postal stations had been restored to smooth operation.

Letters flew in like snowflakes.

The Grand Tutor didn’t need to personally handle everything—various matters were dealt with by others—except for the Empress’s personal letters.

Deng Yi didn’t continue reading the letter. He asked the person beside him: “The Empress’s letter didn’t come through the postal relay?”

A young official beside him nodded: “Captain Li of the postal soldier camp said it was placed directly on his desk. After confirming the Empress’s seal was authentic, he immediately sent it to you, but they didn’t see who delivered it.”

Another slightly older official speculated: “Could Prince Zhongshan be sending you letters in the Empress’s name?” He also sighed. “Prince Zhongshan’s people are truly everywhere.”

The Empress had been captured by Prince Zhongshan—according to the intelligence reports, the Empress had walked into Prince Zhongshan’s estate herself, attempting to persuade him to surrender.

This act appeared brave to the world, but was truly laughable, absurd, and childish—a lamb walking into a tiger’s den, adding trouble for the court.

So, was Prince Zhongshan writing to Deng Yi to use the Empress as leverage?

“Grand Tutor,” an official said gravely. “Even if Chu Ling were alive and encountered this situation, he should place righteousness above family.”

Moreover, Chu Ling was no longer alive.

“If Prince Zhongshan dares harm the Empress, all under heaven will know his treasonous heart,” others nodded in agreement.

Deng Yi paid no attention to these words. He knew that girl wouldn’t care about them either. When she entered Prince Zhongshan’s estate, she wasn’t relying on the court’s care and concern for her.

And if Prince Zhongshan wanted to write to him, he could deliver it through palace eunuchs—Prince Zhongshan’s people were indeed everywhere. He swept his gaze across the hall—bright lamplight, minor officials and guards standing attendance, eunuchs weaving among them carrying tea, snacks, and late-night refreshments from the imperial kitchens.

Actually, Empress Chu’s people were also everywhere. Deng Yi looked down at the letter. To prevent it from falling into anyone else’s hands, it was placed directly on Captain Li’s desk—she even knew this captain was his, Deng Yi’s, man.

The decisive statement at the beginning was also that girl’s habit.

Seeing only this one line, Deng Yi felt as if he saw again that girl standing beneath the palace gate, ordering him to open the door.

Even at this point, she still said this battle must not be fought.