Yan Xun had that dream again. Sweat trickled down from his forehead, his dark eyes as still as deep pools. Outside, the sunlight was brilliant as he leaned over his desk. The inner lining of his robe was already soaked through. He reached out with his slender hand to pick up a teacup, his nails neatly trimmed, his fingertips calloused from years of martial training. He gripped the white porcelain walls of the cup firmly, but his wrist trembled slightly.

After many years, memories were like a rain-soaked lake in early spring, with distant scenes reflected indistinctly on the surface. He had always thought that years of forbearance in the capital had finally taught him momentary forgetfulness, allowing him to cherish what he had in hand. However, it only took a single dream to wash away days of effort. The memories and images he had deeply suppressed came crashing back fiercely, carrying sharp, cutting blades that carved into his flesh and bone, unwilling to stop until they drew blood.

In his dream, blood flowed freely. The eyes of his parents and relatives were open wide and cold, with crimson liquid flowing from their eye sockets like fine wine.

All these years, he thought he had controlled himself well. But from the moment he set foot on Yan Bei’s soil, many emotions that had lain dormant for years awakened violently, like hibernating venomous snakes startled awake—even with eyes closed, they instinctively knew where to strike. At this moment, he finally understood that Yan Bei was not his salvation, but his spiritual opium—inescapable, pulling him deeper.

He stared ahead with unfocused eyes, his breathing gradually steadying, yet intense hatred rose from within his heart. A bloodthirsty desire surged in his mind; he desperately wanted to grip a blade, to swing it, to enjoy the sensation of steel cutting through flesh and bone.

Just then, a commotion erupted outside the door. A woman’s angry voice sounded particularly sharp and fierce. His thoughts suddenly cooled and calmed. Without having to guess, he knew who had arrived. He called out, and immediately, the guards let her in.

Chu Qiao still wore that snow-white fur coat. During this time, she seemed to have grown taller. Standing there gracefully, she was already a young woman. Yan Xun concealed his earlier expression and said gently: “The guards are newly changed and don’t recognize you yet.”

“Why is Cheng Yuan in the military?”

Chu Qiao went straight to the point, completely disregarding the awkwardness of being blocked by the guards outside. Seeing her all-business demeanor, Yan Xun also sat up straight and said seriously: “He’s done a meritorious deed by killing the fleeing North Shuo former city defense general Xia An and bringing back the North Shuo garrison. He deserves to be rewarded.”

Chu Qiao’s eyes were bright and sharp as she stared at Yan Xun, seemingly trying to find a flaw or loophole in his expression. However, the man sat calmly above, without the slightest ripple—like a deep yet placid lake surface. Throw a stone in, and beyond the “plunk” sound, nothing could be seen.

“I want to kill him.”

Chu Qiao said slowly, her voice calm, but her eyes flashed with a fierce killing intent.

Yan Xun’s eyes lifted slightly at the corners as he quietly assessed Chu Qiao, but said nothing. The air grew increasingly oppressive. Outside, one could faintly hear the north wind carrying snow past the corners of the tent, whirling in circles.

“I’ve told you what I came to say. I’m leaving,” Chu Qiao said in a deep voice, turning to go.

“Wait.”

Yan Xun narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at her with some displeasure, his brows tightly knit as he slowly said: “Cheng Yuan is now a general of the Southwestern Garrison. If anything happens to him, the commander of the Southwestern Garrison would first be held responsible for failing to protect his officer.”

Chu Qiao turned back, slightly raising her eyebrows: “Are you threatening me?”

“I just don’t want you to make a mistake.”

“He killed Xue Zhiyuan, killed the Southwestern Garrison officials and soldiers, and nearly killed me. If not for him, the Yan Bei battle would not have suffered such great losses. This man is vicious and ruthless, a sycophant who fears death—a complete villain. Yet you still want to protect him?”

Yan Xun looked at the agitated Chu Qiao, his expression undisturbed as he said calmly: “Yan Bei has too many people who aren’t afraid of death or sycophantic. I don’t think these are qualities worth praising.”

Chu Qiao said angrily: “So being disloyal and cowardly is praiseworthy?”

“A person who has desires and fears is easier to control. Ah Chu, I hope you calm down and think this through.”

Chu Qiao looked deeply at Yan Xun, her mind recalling once more those soldiers who died tragically below North Shuo City and Xue Zhiyuan’s final cry before death. She suddenly felt her blood burning, her gaze sharp as a knife as she asked gravely: “If I insist on killing him, what will you do to me?”

“You know that no matter what you do, I would never do anything to you.” Yan Xun looked at her and said calmly: “If this happens, naturally others will pay the price.”

The light outside suddenly seemed so piercing, making Chu Qiao’s eyes ache. She stood in the tent, where the fire crackled in the brazier, the room warm—yet she felt her blood cooling inch by inch, nearly frozen solid. Her gaze drifted slightly, seemingly looking at Yan Xun, yet looking through him to somewhere far away. His features had already been touched by frost, his gaze no longer clear. He was no longer the handsome youth with sword-like eyebrows and star-bright eyes by Red Water Lake, nor the destitute prince who depended on her for survival in the Golden Palace. Time had carved a huge chasm between them; she couldn’t cross it, and he no longer tried to come to her. Yet counting carefully, less than a year had passed. What power truly was, she finally understood today.

“I understand,” Chu Qiao nodded faintly, slightly cupping her hands: “This subordinate takes her leave.”

“Ah Chu,” seeing her so desolate, Yan Xun felt a twinge of regret, his heart as if scratched by a small beast’s sharp claws, the pain hissing: “Don’t be like this.”

Chu Qiao kept her head lowered, replying impassively: “Though this subordinate is foolish, she lacks the virtues of betrayal, fear of death, and disloyalty. Your Highness should seek out such talented people; Yan Bei’s hope for revival rests on their shoulders. This subordinate has matters to attend to, farewell.”

With that, she didn’t wait to see Yan Xun’s expression but turned and left the tent.

The fur curtain moved slightly. Outside, the wind suddenly grew stronger. Yan Xun sat behind his desk, looking somewhat absently at the doorway as if expecting something.

This was the first time Chu Qiao had gotten angry with him. For all these years, no matter what he did, or what mistakes he made, she had remained silent, forgiving all his actions. Even when he nearly abandoned all the people of Yan Bei recently, she didn’t show much anger.

Southwest Garrison, Southwest Garrison—Yan Xun silently repeated the name twice, and many unbearable memories once again surged in his mind.

“This name is too irritating.”

The young king of Yan Bei slowly frowned, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the table as he fell into momentary contemplation.

Yan Bei was a place where the wind blew year-round. Even though they had now left Yan Bei’s territory, the weather had not warmed at all. Just outside the tent, not far away, a young man in a dark blue coat stood quietly. He had a straight posture but deliberately stooped slightly, appearing humble and respectful, yet remarkably without seeming despicable or dirty. He had a certain dignity and depth that most people lacked and was very patient. Seeing Chu Qiao approach, he slowly raised his head, narrowed his eyes, and smiled slightly at her, saying softly: “General Chu has worked hard.”

Chu Qiao didn’t even look at him and walked straight to her tent, but heard him say lightly: “It seems that the general’s visit wasn’t successful.”

Chu Qiao slowly stopped, frowned, and turned back, saying in a deep voice: “Cheng Yuan, do you think I dare not kill you?”

“Why would the general say such a thing? You have followed His Highness in the capital for eight years, winning battle after battle with unmatched achievements. Taking the head of the Third Prince of Da Xia among thousands of horses was as easy as reaching into a bag. What am I compared to the general? How could I contend with you?”

But Chu Qiao didn’t speak. She coldly looked at this handsome man, feeling waves of nausea in her stomach, almost wanting to vomit.

Cheng Yuan looked at her with a smile and continued: “But a tree that stands out in the forest will be broken by the wind. Don’t you think you’re currently too conspicuous, general? After all, the king of Yan Bei is still His Highness.”

Chu Qiao gave a cold laugh, casting a contemptuous glance at the man, and said lightly: “General Cheng, you’re not qualified to drive a wedge between me and Yan Xun. I call you general today out of respect for his decision, but that doesn’t mean you can act arrogantly before me. You’d better pray my mood improves soon, otherwise I can’t guarantee I won’t sneak into your tent one night and give you a quick death. Even if you die, do you think he would break ties with me over you? You’re too naive and presumptuous.”

Cheng Yuan’s narrow eyes narrowed further as he quietly looked at Chu Qiao without speaking. Chu Qiao turned away, not even glancing at him, and disappeared directly into the vast snow and wind.

When Cheng Yuan entered Yan Xun’s tent, Yan Xun was still sitting at his desk, lost in thought, looking at the map hanging on the wall, his gaze distant and hollow, thinking of who knows what. Cheng Yuan was tactful enough not to speak but stood quietly on the side with his hands folded in front. After a while, a deep voice came from behind the desk. Yan Xun didn’t turn around but slowly said: “Stay away from her.”

Cheng Yuan quickly nodded and agreed: “This subordinate will certainly follow Your Highness’s instructions.”

“If you anger her, I cannot help you.”

“Yes.”

The dinner horn sounded, and large groups of soldiers walked on the thick snow, their footsteps making rustling sounds. Feng Zhi called from outside several times, asking Yan Xun when he would eat, but Yan Xun seemed not to hear, just quietly looking at the map, his gaze sweeping deeply over the vast territory of Da Xia, like a sharp eagle.

When Cheng Yuan returned to his own tent, his expression immediately darkened. He threw his cloak on the ground, his eyebrows almost knotted together. Jiang Teng was his personal guard who had followed him for several years and was very loyal. Seeing this, he stepped forward and asked: “General, what happened?”

“She must be eliminated.”

These words were almost spat from between his teeth. He didn’t say who, but Jiang Teng’s face changed immediately. He quickly said: “General, you must reconsider. Not to mention her own formidable strength, even if you succeed by luck, His Highness will not let it go.”

“I know,” Cheng Yuan’s gaze was vicious as he slowly said: “But if this calamity remains, once she reconciles with His Highness, I will eventually die by her hand.”

“But His Highness…”

“Don’t worry, I won’t take her life for now.”

Cheng Yuan slowly sat in his chair, playing with a translucent white jade tablet. The tablet was of a common style and not carved from superior jade, but it had Chu Qiao’s name engraved on it—it was the kind of longevity jade tablet.

“I’ll first clip her wings. I believe His Highness would be pleased to see that too.”

With a crisp sound, the jade tablet in Cheng Yuan’s hand suddenly shattered. He released his hand without changing expression, and the tablet, broken into small pieces, fell to the ground with a pitter-patter sound, crisp like a zither.

Blood Kuei River was a tributary of Red Water, located upstream of Yanming Pass, facing the majestic pass across the river. Now with heavy snow sealing the river, the surface had long frozen solid. From Yan Xun’s camp, galloping to the fortress across the river took less than the time to drink a cup of tea. But neither Yan Xun nor Zhao Che was as rash as during the first northern expedition. After being here for five days, apart from small scout forces from both sides, no major battle had been launched. They seemed to be carefully probing each other’s strengths, seeking an appropriate opportunity. The snow grew heavier, howling all day. Scout soldiers shuttled across the white river surface, occasionally bringing back bits of information about the enemy. The staff department worked through the night, analyzing every piece of useful intelligence. Chu Qiao had been exhausted for days and was visibly thinner, but her military knowledge once again made the commanders of Yan Bei’s First Army, Second Army, and Black Hawk Army marvel. Within three days, she had become the chief commander of the staff department.

That afternoon, Wan Wan and Xiao He arrived with another batch of provisions, marked as sent from Huai Song. The supplies were abundant and included much-needed cabbage and preserved meat. Yan Xun was very pleased and immediately ordered A Jing to escort a batch of newly mined gold from the rear to Huai Song.

With the battle imminent, A Jing naturally didn’t want to leave. Such a task could be handed to any ordinary commander. However, Yan Xun very solemnly said he couldn’t trust anyone else, so A Jing had to depart with deep concern.

Before leaving, he came to see Chu Qiao. Along the way, all he saw were young, unfamiliar commanders; most of the familiar faces were gone—either recruiting troops in the rear or leading people to rebuild homes and develop farming and herding. A Jing felt somewhat dismayed. Chu Qiao didn’t meet him; the doorkeeper Ping An told A Jing she had gone to the scout camp to analyze intelligence and wasn’t sure when she would return.

A Jing expressed his regret and left dejectedly.

Seeing him leave, Ping An entered the room and curiously asked Chu Qiao why she didn’t meet with General A Jing. Chu Qiao was silent for a long time before finally saying slowly: “It’s for his own good.”

The day after A Jing left, a battle occurred on Xiong Xi Slope, eighty miles away. The scale of the fighting wasn’t large, and it was truly a pointless conflict. Two hundred scout soldiers encountered one hundred Da Xia provision troops. Both sides suddenly met, neither expecting to see the other. After staring at each other in the darkness for a long time, they finally had to draw weapons and clash.

Logically, scout soldiers should have the highest quality in the entire army. They must be both intelligence-gathering experts and elite cavalry, possessing excellent horseback riding and swordsmanship skills, and mastering long-range archery. Meanwhile, troops escorting provisions were mostly the weak, sick, and disabled of the army. When two hundred scout soldiers met one hundred provision troops, victory should have been without question.

However, this troop of Yan Bei scout soldiers returned in tragic defeat, with only ten or twenty surviving. Chu Qiao was almost shocked when she saw them, and her description made her even more terrified. She quickly ran back to the staff department, grabbed an operations staff officer, and asked: “Who is Da Xia’s logistics coordinator this time?”

That official had no way of knowing such confidential information. His aged beard was already white, and he looked at Chu Qiao speechlessly.

Chu Qiao angrily said: “Speak!”

“It’s an old acquaintance of ours, the Zhuge family’s fourth son, Zhuge Yue.”

A deep voice sounded behind her. Chu Qiao immediately turned around to see Yan Xun standing at the door, his hood covered with layers of snow, his expression calm, but his eyes revealed a hint of coldness.

His sharp gaze fixed on Chu Qiao as if trying to find the slightest trace of disturbance on her face, but he failed. Chu Qiao was still the same, her brows furrowed as she looked at him, as if asking: Why are you here?

They had been having a cold war these past few days.

“Tell me, how long do you plan to continue this cold war with me?”

Yan Xun sighed, stepped forward, and took Chu Qiao’s hand. Chu Qiao struggled forcefully but couldn’t break free. Her brows knitted tightly, and she tried to pull away with a scissor-hand technique, but Yan Xun’s hand deftly followed her movement, still holding her tightly.

“Ah Chu, don’t be angry anymore.”

Chu Qiao said coldly: “How dare this subordinate be angry with Your Highness?”

Yan Xun’s face darkened as he rebuked: “Stop this.”

Chu Qiao immediately raised her eyebrows: “Yan Xun, do you think I’m throwing a childish tantrum with you?”

Yan Xun’s expression became unpleasant. He had lowered himself to come apologize, yet received such indifferent words from her. Losing face, he said angrily: “Ah Chu, have I been too indulgent with you before? You’re not usually like this.”

Hearing this, Chu Qiao only wanted to laugh. Indulgence? From childhood to adulthood, from her previous life to this one, she never imagined she would be associated with this word. She gave a cold laugh, not knowing whether she was mocking Yan Xun or herself. I’m not usually like this, but were you always like this before? Who changed?

“With battle imminent, it’s a critical time for Yan Bei to use talent. The top priority now is how to deal with Da Xia’s army, not dwelling on your grudges. Think about it yourself.”

With that, Yan Xun swung his cloak and walked out of the tent. Chu Qiao stood there, her eyes growing colder. The anger of these past few days had all turned into ice water, no longer boiling, like dead water.

Is it a critical time to use talent? Then why have the old generals of the First Army been replaced? Why have the officers trained by Master Wu for many years been sent back to Yan Bei’s homeland to herd sheep with the nomads? Why has Lady Yu been sidelined? Why has A Jing been sent far away, while I have to face these inconsequential military intelligence analyses day after day, yet didn’t even know that Zhuge Yue is Da Xia’s logistics coordinator?

The Yan Bei army has finally become unified, but Yan Xun, why do you no longer trust even me?

Chu Qiao felt an indescribable heartache. The sadness of being pushed outside made her very dejected. She sat in the chair, waves of coldness washing over her.

Had Zhuge Yue come with the army too? That was truly not good news. His military knowledge was no less than Zhao Che’s, and he was Master Wolong’s direct disciple, from the same lineage as Master Wu and Lady Yu. With the powerful financial backing of the Zhuge clan behind him—not just the Zhuge family, but the entire Da Xia aristocracy’s attitude toward this matter. Would his arrival, as Liang Shudai had said, be a harbinger of the aristocracy’s intervention in the war?

But this was good in a way; at least it meant he was no longer ostracized by his family. Although they were at war, news from Zhenbang City still reached her ears, especially since this wasn’t particularly confidential. Zhuge Yue had fallen from grace in his family. Because of the Bian Tang incident, he was jointly suppressed by the royal family and the Council of Elders, stripped of his military rank and official position, left idle and under house arrest in the imperial city, strictly forbidden from leaving even half a step. Zhuge Mu Qing had further confined him within the Zhuge mansion. For a time, he became the laughingstock and gossip of Da Xia’s entire upper society.

Chu Qiao had tried her best not to think about these things. Self-blame and guilt were completely useless, and she couldn’t offer him any compensation or repayment. She had always been such a person—firmly choosing her path, even if it was full of thorns, even if the rain poured down, she would never waver or show weakness. But occasionally, when she woke from midnight dreams, she would see those stubborn eyes hear that passionate, hoarse voice:

“Don’t you feel it? I need you too.”

Hopefully, he was just handling logistics. Hopefully, they wouldn’t meet. Hopefully, hopefully.

Chu Qiao was already very, very tired. She had no interest in looking at those intelligence reports that seemed like waste paper. She dragged her exhausted body back toward her tent, just wanting to fall into bed and sleep deeply. However, when she reached the western camp, the voices of two guards suddenly drifted into her ears.

“I think His Highness just wants them dead. Back then, Lieutenant General Liu of the First Army merely said an extra sentence at a meeting, and later he mysteriously disappeared on the battlefield. His area was an internal war zone with no enemies passing through. We guess he was probably silenced.”

“That’s right. Moreover, they caused such a commotion. If not for Commander Chu from the staff department protecting them, they probably would have met King Yama long ago.”

An old soldier sighed: “His Highness’s temperament is quite different from the old king’s. Looking back, things were more comfortable when Master Wu was in charge. Even Commander Chu was more lenient.”

“Yes,” someone agreed. “She looks so delicate, speaks pleasantly, is fair and capable. No wonder those people support her so much.”

Chu Qiao’s brows furrowed as she lightly coughed and slowly walked out. Those soldiers were on the night watch, and hearing a voice, they were immediately frightened out of their wits. They hurriedly stood up, looking at her in panic.

“Speaking ill of His Highness behind his back is a capital offense.”

“Commander, Commander, we know our mistake. Please be merciful and spare our lives.”

Several men fell to their knees with a thud, begging for mercy. Chu Qiao looked at them and said slowly: “There can only be one supreme commander in the army and only one leader in Yan Bei. His Highness is the son of the old King of Yan Bei and our master. You should understand who commands your loyalty. This is an army, not a charity house. Mistakes must be punished, and people die on the battlefield. None of this is surprising. If I ever hear you criticizing His Highness behind his back again, none of you will escape military punishment!”

The men knelt on the ground, hurriedly answering: “Yes, yes, we’ll obey.”

“After tonight, remember to go to the military law department. Each of you will receive thirty strokes to help you remember. Tell them I sent you.”

“Yes, yes.”

Chu Qiao turned away expressionlessly, but instead of heading to her tent, she quickly went toward the Southwestern Garrison’s camp.

What had happened? Why would those people talk like that? What mission had Cheng Yuan assigned them?

Everything would be clear once she arrived.

“Commander?” The young soldier who saw Chu Qiao immediately brightened, happily running forward to say: “How do you have time to visit us, Commander?”

“Where is He Xiao? Tell him to come see me,” Chu Qiao said urgently.

The man was startled and said: “Commander He has taken the brothers out of camp.”

“Out of camp? Where did they go?”

“The scout camp has been under pressure lately. We’ve been seconded to join the scout camp.”

Chu Qiao’s brows knitted tightly as she asked in a deep voice: “Whose orders?”

The soldier’s expression instantly became somewhat contemptuous as he snorted coldly: “Who else but that General Cheng who’s so eager to achieve merit?”

“Where did they go tonight?”

“I heard they went to Xiong Xi Slope.”

As expected!

Chu Qiao’s gaze instantly became as sharp as a sword. Cheng Yuan, if you dare act recklessly, I guarantee you won’t see tomorrow’s sun.

Taking a horse from the Southwestern Garrison’s camp, Chu Qiao leaped onto it and said in a deep voice: “Bring the remaining brothers and follow me.”

The cold wind whistled like sharp knives. Hooves trod on snow, shuttling through the night.

Not long after, at Xiong Xi Slope, eighty miles away, chaos and clamor had already erupted.

“Camp raid!”

The guards rushed between the horse formations, holding high torches and shouting: “Alert! Full alert!”

“Who? Who’s coming?” He Xiao’s eyes were bloodshot. Though called a camp, it was just a formation of a thousand men. They had just received orders to rest here. How had enemies discovered their whereabouts so quickly?

“Unknown, General,” the guard shouted. “The enemy is coming from our northwest. Friend or foe is unclear. What should we do?”

This question held deep meaning. Northwest? It was impossible to determine whether the approaching force was Da Xia’s army or Yan Bei’s local troops. Given the Southwestern Garrison’s current awkward position, both were possible, with the latter perhaps more likely—a perfect irony. He Xiao frowned and slowly said in a deep voice: “Contract all forces. Don’t engage the enemy for now. We need to see their identity.”

“Sir, Lieutenant Gu has already led the vanguard to charge!”

He Xiao rushed to the high slope and saw flames everywhere, with battle cries and alarms filling the area. The vanguard soldiers were fighting individually. If not for the Southwestern Garrison’s experience through numerous hardships and superior combat capabilities, they might have already been penetrated by the enemy.

There’s still a chance, still a chance, He Xiao thought carefully, frowning, and asked: “Where are General Cheng’s troops?”

“They left an hour ago.”

“Damn it!” He Xiao cursed angrily. “Get me a horse, quickly!”

However, at that moment, an arrow suddenly broke through the air. The arrow came with a tremendous force, like a ferocious beast with eyes, whistling straight toward He Xiao’s face!

No way to dodge, no way to retreat—it was too fast. The intense killing intent surged like a flood, raging and sweeping through. Silver light flashed, and all the torches in the field seemed to dim at once, leaving only the dazzling light and brilliance of that single arrow. The night echoed with tumultuous noise, like a hideous blood feast.

He Xiao’s pupils dilated, his gaze fierce. He felt the skin on his forehead stinging as if pierced. Though he was an archery master with a strength rarely matched in the world, facing this arrow, he felt like a seven or eight-year-old child, without any power to resist. It was like a strong farmer facing a skilled swordsman—no matter how clumsily he swung his fists, they would only hit the air, while the opponent could kill him with just one exquisite sword flourish, leaving him dead in the fields his ancestors had cultivated for generations.

It was too fast. Before his body could make any movement, the arrow was already at close range. He could hear his subordinates’ exclamations and see the widened eyes of those around him as they screamed, but he couldn’t speak. In the final moment before death, he wondered: Who could this be? Someone whose archery skills rival the Commanders? Dying at the hands of such a person wouldn’t be unjust.

“Ding!”

A sharp screech echoed across the field, followed by a silence like death, and then mountain-shaking cheers erupted simultaneously. Chu Qiao rode her horse forward, leaping onto the high slope, and standing in front of He Xiao with her bow drawn. At her horse’s feet were two arrows with their heads crossed, wood splinters scattered like two blooming flowers.

“Commander!”

All the Southwestern Garrison soldiers cheered in unison: “The Commander is here!”

Unexpectedly, the enemy also ceased their attack. Both sides tacitly withdrew their forces, then stood divided. Torches flickered, illuminating the scene.

Chu Qiao frowned. That arrow was too familiar. Her heart began to pound, her brows tightly knit, both worried and afraid, yet also feeling a hint of joy. If it was true, if it was true, then tonight, perhaps they could… emerge unscathed…

The crowd across slowly parted, and a white horse gradually emerged from behind the soldiers. The young man on the horse wore a purple sable coat, richly dressed, without any military appearance. His eyes were like cold springs, lazily gliding over Chu Qiao and her people one by one. His face bore the eternal arrogance and indifference. Finally, he spoke lightly: “Just a group of refugees. Withdraw.”

“Sir!” An officer stepped forward hurriedly and said: “How could these be refugees? Their combat power is strong. They must be an elite force from Yan Bei.”

Hearing this, the man slightly raised his eyebrow, lowered his chin, looked at him from the corner of his eye, and said in a deep voice: “You disagree with my judgment?”

The man was startled and quickly knelt on the ground: “This subordinate wouldn’t dare.”

“Then you think I’m consorting with the enemy and betraying the country? Or that my mind has a problem?”

Sweat gradually flowed down the officer’s forehead as he nervously said repeatedly: “This subordinate is confused. This subordinate wouldn’t dare.”

The man lifted his head, not even looking at him, and said lightly: “Since you wouldn’t dare, you should know what to do.”

“Yes, yes, this subordinate knows.” The man hurriedly stood up and said to the soldiers behind him: “Withdraw, withdraw. Rear army first, others follow in sequence.”

The purple-sabled man slowly turned his horse. Before leaving, his gaze lightly swept over Chu Qiao’s face. The young woman in her white fur coat looked thin, making her large eyes appear even more prominent. She held the reins watching him, saying nothing. The wind blew through her hair, like ink dropping into water, dancing in perfect arcs.

The enemy forces thus retreated before them—fully three thousand men—leaving behind just over a thousand fully armed “refugees.” The battle began strangely and ended horrifyingly. Only now did someone quietly ask: “They just left like that?”

Everyone was dumbfounded. After a long while, someone softly responded: “Didn’t you see the Commander arrive? They were frightened away.”

“He Xiao, reorganize the troops. I’ll be back soon.”

Seeing Chu Qiao heading in the direction the enemy had retreated, He Xiao was startled and quickly grabbed her horse’s reins, loudly saying: “Commander, you must not! If you fall into enemy hands, we couldn’t atone even with our deaths.”

“Don’t worry,” Chu Qiao smiled slightly. “Nothing will happen. That person…”

Her voice suddenly paused. What words could explain the relationship between them? Enemies? Adversaries? Or…

“Is my friend.”

Even without seeing it with her own eyes, Chu Qiao could guess the other’s identity. In the world, besides Yan Xun who grew up with her, who else could catch her arrow? The horse ran for less than the time it took to burn an incense stick when she saw two people standing under a large tree in the distance. One of them, seeing her approach, happily ran over, smiling: “Miss Xing’er has come. Young Master said you would come. I was worried.”

The moonlight was white and pure. On the vast snow plain, the large tree stood like a great umbrella. Though its branches and leaves were sparse, it was extraordinarily tall and straight. Zhuge Yue stood under the tree, quietly watching her without speaking. The white horse leisurely walked beside him and, seeing Chu Qiao, neighed happily as if seeing a familiar person.

Yue Qi chattered on, naturally holding her reins. Chu Qiao jumped down from her horse and smiled at Yue Qi: “I didn’t expect to meet you here. Have you been well?”

“Who is Miss asking about? Are you asking if I, Yue Qi, am well? I’m fine, eating and sleeping well. I even got married recently.”

Yue Qi said with a smile. Chu Qiao felt slightly embarrassed but still smiled and said: “Then congratulations to you.”

“Yue Qi, go tell Yu Chao to proceed slowly and not accidentally fall into a snow pit.”

Yue Qi turned his head and said to the man under the tree: “Young Master, Yu Chao is a commander from the Northwest. Rather than worrying about him, you should worry about me falling into a snow pit while delivering messages.”

Hearing this, Zhuge Yue raised his eyebrow, anger flashing in his eyes. Yue Qi quickly raised his hands and repeatedly said: “Alright, alright, I’ll go now. I’ll just consider it as an expression of Young Master’s concern for his subordinates.” With that, he mounted his horse, flicked the reins, and quickly disappeared into a cloud of dust.

It had only been a little over two months since they last met, but somehow Chu Qiao felt it had been a very, very long time. During this period, too many things had happened. After the war with Da Xia began, numerous issues emerged, especially the growing estrangement from Yan Xun. Zhuge Yue’s words had come true one by one. She struggled forward with great difficulty. Now seeing him again, thousands of thoughts surged in her mind, making it hard to sort out her feelings. Their relationship was too awkward, leaving her not knowing what to say. She could only stand there blankly, like a withered tree in a wilderness.

“You have internal problems, don’t you?”

Zhuge Yue suddenly spoke, addressing such private military matters. Chu Qiao was startled, looking at him strangely. What did he want to say? Surely he wasn’t trying to gather intelligence on the Yan Bei army?

“Your people lured me here.”

Zhuge Yue said slowly. “I guess someone wanted to use me to eliminate this troop, but I didn’t expect they were your men.”

Although she had already guessed, hearing these words, Chu Qiao still felt burning anger. She bit her lip, tightly clenched her fists, looking at the ground without speaking.

“Be careful. This time it was me; next time, it might be Zhao Che.”

Zhuge Yue said this, then took his horse and turned to leave. Chu Qiao was startled and quickly took two steps forward, calling out: “Zhuge Yue!”

Zhuge Yue turned back, tilting his head and frowning at her. Chu Qiao pondered for a long time before finally asking: “Will this cause trouble for you?”

Zhuge Yue smiled wryly: “As long as you don’t write to the Council of Elders, there probably won’t be any problem.”

Chu Qiao took a deep breath, her eyes as brilliant as stars, gazing steadily at him, and finally said in a deep voice: “Thank you.”

Zhuge Yue led his horse away, casually waving his hand, saying: “If you can’t deal with it yourself, go back and tell Yan Xun. With internal instability, your battle will be very difficult.”

The snow reflected the moonlight, shining brightly white. Zhuge Yue in his purple coat looked increasingly magnificent and handsome. His tall figure cast a long shadow on the ground as he stepped on the snowy plain, the horse’s hooves clanging, walking slowly.

Chu Qiao stood in place, watching his receding figure—farther and farther away, until finally, he disappeared below the snowy slope, no longer visible.

Her throat constricted with emotions, feeling thousands of words stuck in her neck, unable to express them. That complex emotion nearly overwhelmed her reason. She stood there, motionless for a long time, until the worried He Xiao brought soldiers to find her, and she slowly regained her senses.

“Commander, let’s go back.”

Chu Qiao nodded and said: “Tell the brothers, no one is to mention tonight’s events to anyone.”

He Xiao nodded: “Yes, Commander, please rest assured.”

After thinking for a moment, he tentatively asked: “So this time, we just let it go?”

Chu Qiao’s expression suddenly turned cold. She snorted and said in a deep voice: “Of course, we can’t just let it go.”

She mounted her horse deftly. The warhorse neighed loudly, breaking the night’s tranquility. The desolate wind blew fiercely, snow swirling, leaving traces of bleakness. Chu Qiao turned back, looking at the vast snowy plain, a pure white expanse like an endless sea. That big tree stood silently there, having lived alone for who knows how many years, with how many people passing beneath it, eyes lingering, traversing the vast expanse of time.

“Back to camp!”