The sky was pitch black, clouds hanging extremely low, almost touching one’s forehead. Snow fell like gray goose feathers, flying in the bitter wind. In a simple tent built of coarse cloth and felt, Yan Xun sat silently. Torches crackled weakly, soldiers were anxious, their eyes increasingly uneasy. Horses let out irritating neighs, nervously pawing the ground. The air was stifling, filled with fear and oppression.
It had been a full half-hour already. Using ten thousand troops to fight against that isolated, weak detachment of less than three hundred men—such a disproportionate ratio wasn’t even a normal war. Even with Zhuge Yue’s exceptional talent, he shouldn’t have lasted until now. The Moon Guards had used up all their arrows, their swords had notched edges, and many were already seriously wounded. All the cavalry’s horses had been shot dead, no longer able to utilize their mobile flexibility. They could only gather together, back to back, fighting with spears and swords against tens of thousands.
The Yan Bei army had them completely surrounded. The close-quarters combat was unbearably brutal. On the snow plain stained red with blood, the Yan Bei army’s advance troops and Zhuge Yue’s forces fought in a melee. The two waves collided head-on; gleaming swords flashed, and amidst the charge, great spurts of blood gushed out like hot magma spilling onto the snowy soil.
The wind howled, and battle cries shook the heavens. The neighing of warhorses mingled with the screams of grievously wounded warriors. The scene was like boiling water—no strategies or tactics could be employed anymore. When enemies meet on a narrow road, the brave will win. At this moment, everyone seemed to have gone mad, red-eyed, swinging swords at the enemy. Severed limbs, splashing blood, and decapitated heads fell like rows of autumn grass. Killers were immediately killed, but the dying still remembered to grab their enemy’s legs to win time for their comrades to attack. The battle reached an unimaginably brutal level.
Though the Yan Bei army had the numerical advantage, they still couldn’t scatter the Moon Guards’ small formation. As outer warriors fell, those inside immediately rushed up. They stood swaying, wielding swords, seemingly about to fall in wave after wave of battle, yet they still stood firm like a stubborn plaster that couldn’t be shaken off. Defeated but not routed, even when surrounding comrades had fallen, each fought alone, continuing to battle individually. Even covered in blood and gore, even with limbs severed, even with just one breath left, they would still take a strike just to bite off a piece of the enemy’s flesh!
These men had followed Zhuge Yue since childhood. As the eldest son of the Zhuge family, from the age of four, his family had hired dozens of martial arts masters for him and equipped him with five hundred personal guards—the Moon Guards. For over ten years, they had followed Zhuge Yue battling north and south, experiencing hundreds of wars and killings, never retreating or showing cowardice. Today, before the Yan Bei soldiers, they once again demonstrated the passionate loyalty of those supposedly “pampered young masters” of the empire who lived lives of wine and women.
Nie Gu, Yan Xun’s newly appointed captain of the guard, swung his sword and shouted fiercely: “Kill! Kill them all!”
Yue Jiu, covered in blood, thrust his sword through a Yan Bei soldier’s throat. His face no longer had the composed demeanor of a master. Wiping away the blood on his face, he shouted: “Brothers! Break through a bloody path!”
Corpses were everywhere, swords were everywhere. Bodies piled so high one could barely stand. Warriors swung their swords while kicking aside corpses that obstructed their footing. Battle cries and screams were deafening. Blood-soaked mud and flesh were scattered all over the ground.
A Yan Bei soldier cut off a Moon Guard’s leg with one stroke. The young Moon Guard not only didn’t cry out but instead thrust his sword through the Yan Bei soldier’s chest. Before falling, the Yan Bei warrior desperately held onto the Moon Guard’s waist. The two mortally wounded men rolled on the ground, tearing at each other like wild dogs, as if there was terrible hatred between them. Yet before they could kill each other, more than ten warhorses galloped over. The soldiers on horseback were still fighting, but the two on the ground had their skulls crushed by hooves. Brain matter spurted out, splashing onto the horses’ hooves. The two warriors died embracing each other, looking like intimate friends.
The battlefield formed a terrifying red vortex around the three hundred Moon Guards. Both sides’ formations were completely chaotic. The outer Yan Bei forces couldn’t break through, so they circled on horseback, shouting, occasionally charging forward to replace fallen comrades. Just then, the Moon Guards in the northwest corner suddenly had a gap broken open. Nie Gu cheered, and warriors holding bloody swords followed behind him, howling like wolves and tigers.
“Protect the general!”
Yue Jiu shouted fiercely, his young face completely red with blood, unrecognizable from his original appearance. The Moon Guards’ eyes all reddened simultaneously, turning together to charge, but were entangled by enemies at their sides.
Nie Gu shouted: “Charge! Kill the Zhuge dog traitor!”
“Swoosh————!”
As soon as the words left his mouth, a flash of bright sword light suddenly attacked. Nie Gu’s neck instantly had a line of blood. The next second, the young captain’s head flew high, his body stiffened, and with a bang, he fell into a pool of blood.
Zhuge Yue stood holding his sword. His blue-green robe made his face appear even more smooth as jade. His lips were crimson, his nose high-bridged, his deep eyes like profound pools, looking keenly at the chaotic battlefield. A drop of blood slowly flowed down from his temple, winding along the contour of his face. Behind him were tens of thousands of fallen corpses, and further away was the ancient city billowing black smoke. Beyond that were the Yan Bei lands ravaged by artillery fire and the devastated lands of Great Xia.
War was raging, civilians were wailing, Western Simo was trembling, and heaven and earth were bleeding. He stood in the ferocious pool of blood, holding his sword. Though covered in slaughter, he still stood proud like a majestic snow mountain.
“General!”
“Well done!”
Thunderous cheers followed. Zhuge Yue stood in the middle of the blood pool, his voice clear as a ringing bell, shouting: “No one is allowed to die! All follow me and charge!”
“Yes, sir!”
The warriors shouted in unison. Zhuge Yue rushed to the front, leading by example, personally leading the troops. His movements were so agile they dazzled the eye. His sword’s edge curled with white snow, like rolling white waves, leaving people and horses fallen in his wake, a complete mess.
The last hundred or so surviving Moon Guards were greatly encouraged. The shouting and killing sounds were deafening. The previously invincible Yan Bei army retreated in the face of this mad momentum, and the battle immediately stalled. The officers at the rear cursed angrily, but no matter how they scolded, that high ground formed by piled corpses could not be conquered. No matter how many troops were committed, those hundred or so people who looked like leaves in the rain continued to swing and chop like undying machines.
Yan Xun’s face remained unchanged, but his eyes gradually narrowed. Zhuge Yue had finally emerged. He stood at the front line of the slaughter, blue-green robe, and snow-white sword, his figure like a vigorous coiling dragon. For a moment, Yan Xun seemed to see a flickering golden light on him, like the splendor of imperial majesty, dazzlingly bright, making one unable to look directly at it.
A cold chill slid across his eyes. Yan Xun’s voice was low as he slowly said: “Bring me the bow and arrow.”
The guard immediately turned to get Yan Xun’s golden bow, brilliant with golden light, dazzling to the eye. Yan Xun wore a jet-black robe, his eyes no longer clear and gentle as before. At this moment, he was like a god of slaughter in the fires of a chaotic world, his whole body black with bloodstains. His fingertips slowly rubbed the crossbow arrow, four fingers together, thumb tightly locked, touching the arrow, loading the bow, bending the crossbow. The rope of fate turned at this moment, and past scenes once again galloped through his mind. Yan Xun’s arms exerted force, the crossbow arrow like a shrimp’s back on the bow.
The great wind blew, passing over the flying fire of battle and the gradually cooling corpses. Clouds rolled in the sky above, snow fell wildly. In the distance came the sound of galloping hooves approaching from behind. Yan Xun’s eyes were frosty, his back straight. Standing surrounded by tens of thousands of troops, with absolute advantage and posture, he released his fingers holding the arrow with a thunderous motion!
The brilliantly golden crossbow arrow left the string with a swoosh, shooting fiercely toward that agile body on the battlefield!
In an instant, tens of thousands of eyes fixed upon it. Under the halo of the dim midday sun, the arrow of fate shot out toward Zhuge Yue’s chest, like a bloodthirsty hungry wolf.
Zhuge Yue swung his sword and cut down a Yan Bei soldier. Bright red blood splashed on the back of his hand, like scalding oil. Without looking, just listening, the sound of the arrow piercing through the fierce north wind reached his eardrums. His body moved like incomparably swift lightning, dodging rapidly by instinct. The sharp arrowhead scraped fiercely past his arm, tearing through thick clothing and a large piece of skin. But before he could stand up, another arrow was already coming in an instant.
Rapid-fire crossbow—Yan Bei’s Chu Qiao’s signature skill! At the snowy national banquet, on the northwestern battlefield, he had experienced Chu Qiao’s archery skills many times and was no longer unfamiliar with them. But this arrow now came from Yan Xun’s hand, with a different flavor—perhaps less exquisite in skill, but far superior in power.
Seven consecutive arrows, each aimed at vital points. Zhuge Yue dodged each one like a startled dragon, finally standing up amid the storm of arrows. Their gazes met for just a second, quick as lightning, yet it seemed to span their lifetime of rivalry and enmity.
In that instant, Zhuge Yue’s body turned like a full moon, arms curved, swinging his sword toward him. The bright blade flashed like lightning, striking back with thunderous force.
A short cry of surprise sounded not far behind. The man at whom the blade pointed curved his lips slightly, revealing a barely perceptible smile. He didn’t dodge, showing not a trace of panic on his face. Instead, he took up the last golden arrow, suddenly drew his bow, and shot it fiercely.
Heaven and earth seemed to fall silent for a moment. Between the two men, separated by thousands of troops, they stared at each other silently, using all their strength to deliver the final blow. Neither dodged or evaded, just waiting for fate to make its final judgment on their lives.
“Your Majesty, be careful!”
“General!”
Before the cries of alarm could penetrate the eardrums, a horse’s long neigh sounded. A bright sword gleamed like a star in the night. The arrow pierced through the vast snow mist, whistling from behind Yan Xun. In the final moment before Zhuge Yue’s blade pierced Yan Xun’s heart, it struck the back of the war blade!
It was just an ordinary war blade—how could it withstand this world-class divine weapon with its flowing radiance? The two forces collided, and the war blade shattered with a roar, but the treasure sword maintained its previous speed. Yan Xun’s arrow pierced through Zhuge Yue’s palm and into his chest. Closely following, the sword suddenly stabbed into the arrow’s tail, vertically downward, piercing into Zhuge Yue’s chest. Fresh blood wound down, flowing along the sword’s diagonal blood wave pattern, all the way to the two small ancient seal characters at the end. Amid the bright red hot blood, the words “Breaking Moon” could vaguely be seen.
A great spray of blood immediately burst from Zhuge Yue’s mouth. His body staggered backward, but he strongly resisted falling. The Moon Guards rushed forward with bloodshot eyes, guarding around him. Yue Jiu’s eyes were red as he knelt before him, shedding hot tears. The young swordsman suddenly turned his head, his eyes full of frenzied hatred and rage, looking toward that line of black armor in the heavy snow.
Chu Qiao sat on horseback, with two thousand Xiuli troops at her side. Hooves trampled the snowplain, making a rumbling sound. Her pupils were wide open; she finally saw that face in the vast snow, and her entire being felt as if she had fallen into an icy abyss. Her limbs went numb with cold, her heart seemed to have been torn out and thrown into the icy snow.
Yan Xun smiled faintly, brushing away a snowflake that had fallen on his collar, slowly walking forward to extend his hand to Chu Qiao, saying gently: “You’ve come.”
Zhuge Yue was covered in blood, the wound on his chest terrifyingly fierce. In his eyes, it seemed like rolling black tides were surging. Reality once again bloodily shattered his pride and self-control. His brows and eyes were cold and sharp as he watched, suppressing the bloody taste in his throat.
Zhuge Yue, how much more will you degrade yourself?
The man laughed coldly, his voice deep and hoarse like a demon from hell, muttering: “In the end, it was just my one-sided wishful thinking.”
His cold gaze shot at Chu Qiao. She felt breathing become difficult. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, breathing heavily as she sat on horseback. She could no longer see Yan Xun’s hypocritically smiling face, could no longer see the mountain-like piles of corpses, could no longer see the ancient city of Yuegong billowing black smoke, could no longer see the rolling snow in heaven and earth. There was only Zhuge Yue, only the bright red blood on his blue-green robe, like a piercing arrow to her heart and spine.
Time seemed to flow back nine years in an instant. Nine years ago, on the vast snowy plains outside Zhenhuang, she unhesitatingly chose to stand with Yan Xun, looking with eyes of hatred at that proud, cold, and lonely child. Nine years later, fate gave her an equal opportunity again, yet she still unhesitatingly pointed her sword at him.
The snow and wind remained the same, but people had changed. The world suddenly became vast and boundless, leaving only the rolling sound of the wind, carrying flying snow, sprinkling on that face already familiar in dreams.
Her fingers curved, tightly clenching into a fist, nails digging into the flesh of her palm, yet she felt no pain at all.
Yue Jiu’s eyes were red. Seeing her face clearly, he cursed angrily: “You heartless woman! Our young master came to save you, yet you strike such a blow. After today, as long as even one Moon Guard remains, we vow you will pay for today’s actions!”
“Bold words,” Yan Xun’s gaze passed over lightly, his tone clear and quiet as he said: “Go, trample them to death.”
“Yes!”
The imperial guards responded in unison, turning to charge forward. Just then, a sudden rumbling sound of galloping came from beneath the snow plain. Over a thousand war horses howled as they approached. The men on horseback wore various clothing—merchants, herdsmen, street vendors, scholarly gentry, and even officials wearing Yan Bei official uniforms. They galloped wildly, wielding various war blades, and in no time, gathered around behind Zhuge Yue.
“Young Master!”
A man in his forties rushed forward. He wore the official uniform of a fifth-rank civil official of Yan Bei, wielding a thick-backed broadsword. Jumping down from his horse, fierce as a tiger, he shouted while fighting: “Yue Da has arrived late. A-Jiu, protect the young master and leave! Brothers, follow me and charge!”
Nine years ago, when Yan Shicheng died at Huoleiyuan and Yan Xun was trapped in the imperial capital, the young Zhuge Yue had carefully woven this net. Back then, he couldn’t have foreseen today’s situation. He had only cautiously placed people, infiltrating Yan Bei’s territory, to assist himself when various noble clans fought over the fat meat of Yan Bei. Then Yan Xun returned, Yan Bei rebelled, and these people became Zhuge Yue’s eyes and hands in Yan Bei. After the previous attack on the camp at Caoqiu, it was with the help of these people that he could escape safely.
The battle instantly resumed. Blood splashed, battle cries were deafening, and sword flashes dazzled the eyes.
He Xiao carefully approached and whispered: “General, shall we help His Majesty fight?”
Chu Qiao gazed at the battlefield in a daze, thousands of thoughts flashing through her mind. The faces of Zhuge Yue and Yan Xun appeared one after another. She didn’t know where things had gone wrong, didn’t know what she had done. Weakness swept over her like a tidal wave, almost drowning her completely. Anger, heartache, regret, bitterness—indescribable thoughts surrounded her, covering her eyes, nose, and ears. She felt so tired, so exhausted that she wanted to fall to the ground and sleep, to die at once.
“General? General?” He Xiao’s voice sounded clearly in her ear, becoming increasingly urgent.
Chu Qiao’s body shook, and she suddenly came to her senses. She grabbed He Xiao’s war blade, jumped down from her horse, and rushed forward, shouting: “All follow me!”
The Xiuli Army warriors followed closely, their fighting spirit boiling like hot water. However, just as they were about to attack the Xia soldiers, Chu Qiao struck a Yan Bei soldier in the chest with her blade. Blood splashed onto her beautiful face. The young woman stood tall, like a firm giant rock or tree.
One, two, hundred, thousand—gradually, all the soldiers on the field quieted down. Chu Qiao silently attacked any Yan Bei soldier who approached her, as if possessed. Zhuge Yue’s attendants fixed their shifting gaze on her, maintaining a certain distance. The Yan Bei soldiers looked at her in astonishment, not daring to approach. Even the Xiuli Army warriors stood in a daze, not knowing what to do.
“A Chu, what are you doing?”
Yan Xun walked forward from behind, his gaze dark as a deep spring, staring at her fixedly, speaking in a low voice.
Chu Qiao didn’t speak. She just held her war blade, standing still and staring at him—this man she had given her whole heart to follow. She felt life was like a dream of fleeting splendor. She was entangled in silk threads like a puppet, yet had long been unaware.
Several Yan Bei soldiers carefully tried to approach. But before they could get close, Chu Qiao’s war blade immediately flashed. In the bright blade light, a head flew high into the air. Under everyone’s shocked gaze, the headless corpse fell to the snow with a thud, twitching like a dog not yet dead.
There were no exaggerated or fancy moves, no shouting to intimidate. She calmly pointed her blade at her comrades, standing on the vast snow plain, her figure thin, with no one beside her.
“Chu Qiao! What are you doing?”
Yan Xun’s voice grew deeper. Yue Da, seeing this, immediately ordered his subordinates to retreat. Yan Xun’s eyes frosted, and the Yan Bei soldiers immediately pursued. Chu Qiao moved swiftly, blocking them at the front with a few leaps. The Yan Bei soldiers had already killed until their eyes were red; seeing her swing her sword at her people, they attacked her without reservation. He Xiao, seeing this, became furious, picking up a war blade and shouting angrily: “Brothers! Protect our general!”
The battlefield was in chaos, unable to distinguish friend from foe. Chu Qiao’s eyes were red with killing. The blood of her people stained her clothes. Her hands trembled violently, but her body didn’t retreat a step. Hoofbeats grew distant as the unconscious Zhuge Yue was carried away. Black war eagles struggled and screeched in the high sky. The cold wind was like a sharp knife, cutting against her skin inch by inch.
On the vast plain, bloody corpses covered the entire land. The killing continued, and the air was filled with damp, cold despair and deathly silence.
After an unknown time, everything gradually quieted down. She stood leaning on her blade, with crimson blood at her feet. Yan Xun stood opposite her, gazing at her with deep eyes. In a daze, she suddenly felt the person opposite was so unfamiliar as if she had never known him. She didn’t want to say anything, didn’t want to ask anything. Dragging her tired body, she staggered as she turned around, just wanting to leave.
“Stop.”
A deep voice came from behind. Yan Xun walked forward slowly. The soldiers retreated like the tide, leaving only He Xiao standing before her with his blade, watching the approaching King of Yan Bei with vigilant eyes.
“You, step aside.”
Yan Xun said coldly to He Xiao. The young commander raised his head, looking at him fearlessly, responding to his order with silence.
With a swoosh, Yan Xun drew the sword at his waist. Almost simultaneously, Chu Qiao swung her blade upward. Years of tacit understanding meant she could block his moves without opening her eyes. A burst of intense sparks flashed between the blade and sword, dazzlingly bright.
Yan Xun smiled coldly: “What? You can draw your blade against me for him? I thought only Zhuge Yue could make you do such a thing.”
Chu Qiao raised her head, her dark eyes looking at Yan Xun, seeing his familiar brows and eyes, his cruel lips. She suddenly couldn’t reconcile him with the gentle, handsome young man in her memory. At this moment, Yan Xun finally separated from her memory, standing vividly before her. The reality was so bloody. Her years of obsession collapsed thunderously, like shattered crystal, in thousands of pieces, never to be rejoined.
“Yan Xun, you deceived me.”
Yan Xun’s face showed not the slightest guilt, saying lightly: “If I didn’t deceive you, how could I lure him into the trap?”
Even a thousand arrows piercing the heart couldn’t compare. Chu Qiao smiled bitterly, her eyes still dry, unable to shed tears. Her voice carried indescribable despair and fatigue. She looked at him uncomprehendingly, shaking her head: “Yan Xun, why have you become like this?”
Her voice was as desolate as a small bird with no branch to perch on. She was no longer that ever-victorious general on the battlefield, no longer that brilliantly talented supreme commander, no longer that sharp and resolute Lady Xiuli. At this moment, she was just a deceived woman. Years of heartfelt devotion had all turned to water, flowing away.
Yan Xun said in a deep voice: “A Chu, you say I’ve changed but haven’t you changed as well? A Great Xia commander secretly infiltrated Yan Bei—such important military intelligence you didn’t report to me. Instead, at the crucial moment, you turned against me and drew your sword. As the King of Yan Bei, what’s wrong with me killing a Great Xia soldier? If I hadn’t anticipated your reaction, why would I go to such lengths to deceive you? Do Yan Bei and I mean less to you than a Zhuge Yue?”
Chu Qiao’s body shook, staring at him in a daze for a long time, then suddenly laughed miserably, almost neurotically.
“Yan Xun, if Yan Bei goes to war with Song one day, would you scheme to lure your Song ally here, and then kill her?”
Yan Xun was stunned, frowning: “What are you talking about?”
“Yan Xun, you blame me for not being completely honest with you, but tell me, do you trust me?”
Yan Xun’s brows locked slightly, saying in a deep voice: “I asked you to return to Yan Bei’s interior, not participating in the war, for your good.”
“Slaughtering my comrades and army, forcing me to leave the cause I’ve fought for many years, driving me away from the center of power, away from the battlefield I opened up with my own hands, doubting me, not trusting me, monitoring me, using me—this is all for my good?”
Chu Qiao’s eyes were frighteningly bright. In the howling wind, her voice was like a cold knife, sharply shooting into the boundless night. A year’s suppressed discontent and sorrow surged out like a tide.
“A Chu, you are my woman. Why can’t you stay in the rear like other women, waiting for my triumphant return?”
Chu Qiao was stunned, then laughed in sudden realization. Her body trembled, laughing until tears flowed, hand covering her chest. A bitter taste lingered on her tongue as she shook her head in realization: “So, this is the kind of woman you want.”
The young woman’s eyes were so bright, like brilliant stars. She stared at Yan Xun, her voice low and hoarse, asking: “If so, why did you come to find me?”
“Yan Xun, you can kill Zhuge Yue, but you shouldn’t use me, and you shouldn’t set up this trap using my feelings for him.”
A heavy disappointment suddenly flashed in Yan Xun’s eyes. He said in a deep voice: “Cheng Yuan told me long ago that you had a deep relationship with Zhuge Yue. Unfortunately, I was always too confident. Today, you finally admitted it yourself.”
Hearing these words, Chu Qiao almost wanted to laugh out loud. Cheng Yuan? He would rather believe that shameless, disloyal person than believe her? She had risked her life for him, devoted herself completely, exhausted her heart’s blood, followed him for years, and in the end, she couldn’t compare to a daily flatterer. She once thought he was just temporarily confused, his head clouded by hatred, but now she was gradually losing hope. He had become a complete politician. What ideals, what beliefs, what talk of taking her back to Yan Bei to live a good life—all were less important than his imperial ambitions. For his hegemony, he could find all suitable reasons for himself, could believe all excuses beneficial to him, could eliminate anyone blocking his path forward, even if that person was his teacher, friend, comrade, subordinate, lover…
There was no point in saying more. Chu Qiao coldly turned her head, about to leave, but her arm was grabbed by Yan Xun. The man finally shed the coldness on his face and imperial dignity, shouting angrily: “What exactly do you want? Are you going to find him? Have you fallen in love with him?”
Chu Qiao silently turned around, looking at Yan Xun’s familiar contours. Vaguely, she seemed to see again the blue-clothed young man by Crimson River Lake years ago. She slowly shook her head, saying softly: “Yan Xun, I don’t know if this counts as love. I only know that I care about you, I worry about you, and I can’t bear to see others hurt you. I made your dreams my dreams, I followed your footsteps forward, and everything I did consider you first. When you were happy, I was happy; when you were sad, I was sad. I could forgive your mistakes, and your failures, and help you remedy all problems you made. My greatest dream was to see your wishes fulfilled. I was adrift in a strange land, with no relatives, no one to rely on. For many years, you were my whole reason for living, the most important person in my life.”
Hearing this, Yan Xun was immediately moved. His palm grew very hot, tightly gripping Chu Qiao’s arm, trembling slightly with excitement.
However, Chu Qiao continued: “But now I’m confused. Is everything I’ve done worth it? Have I seen you? Yan Xun, you’ve become a slave to power. Since returning to Yan Bei, you’ve started doubting—doubting me, doubting Master Wu, doubting Lady Yu, doubting the Southwest Garrison, doubting the Datong Association, doubting anyone who might threaten your power. I don’t believe you don’t know my loyalty to you. I don’t believe you don’t know Master Wu’s support for you. You’re just afraid, feeling our existence threatens your position, so you find excuses to push us out. Your resentment, and your worries, are all just born from your selfishness, finding a dignified reason for your purge. Today, if it wasn’t Zhuge Yue, it would be someone else. You would always find various crimes to accuse me of. Yan Xun, I don’t blame you for killing Zhuge Yue; I just blame your methods for being too despicable. You shouldn’t trample on my loyalty to you like this, trample on our feelings, and you shouldn’t use such contemptible methods against me.”
Chu Qiao mounted her horse. Before leaving, she gave Yan Xun a deep look, saying solemnly: “As you wish, I’m going to find him now. I warn you for the last time: if he dies in Yan Bei, I will never forgive you in this life.”
A strong wind howled, blowing up Chu Qiao’s flying fur coat. The young woman shouted softly, and her warhorse immediately galloped away. The Xiuli Army warriors followed behind her, snow mist flying wildly, mixed with the swirling snow.
Yan Xun stood in place, his face cold and quiet, standing for a long time, like a stone monument.
He felt something suddenly burst within his heart. Vaguely, he seemed to hear the sound of breaking, and unrestrained killing intent flowed out, dyeing his ink-black eyes red.
Someone quietly walked behind him, asking softly: “Your Majesty, General Cheng has sent scouts saying they were blocked by General Chu on the other side of Jasmine River. What should we do now?”
The cold wind blew past Yan Xun’s robe. In a daze, he seemed to see his parents’ faces, and those richly dressed kingdom nobles in front of the Jiuyou Platform…
“Notify Cheng Yuan to bring troops around to the foot of Minxi Mountain immediately. They must intercept Zhuge Yue on the Crimson River Ice Lake.”
The person hesitated slightly, asking: “What if… General Chu arrives as well?”
Yan Xun’s eyes narrowed slightly, flashing like a blade’s edge. After a long time, his deep voice slowly uttered a few cold words: “At any cost, Zhuge Yue must be killed.”
The war eagle let out a shrill cry. Under the gloomy sky, a bloodthirsty red light spread.