This was a letter Gao Qiao had left for Luoshen.

The first thing he said was that he hoped this letter could remain sealed forever. For once opened, it would surely mean that the court had witnessed the scene he least wished to see.

He then said that before reaching his twentieth year, he had taken the position of Gao family head, held high office, and served the court for half his life. He knew the corruption of the great clans, the narrow-mindedness of the imperial family, and the many hardships of common people. When the Northern Expedition failed that year, aside from limitations in his own abilities, the constraints from behind had also been fetters.

Gao Qiao told his daughter that A’Ye was not without complaints or resentment toward the court, nor had he failed to act personally, but what he could accomplish was extremely limited. As the Gao family head, faced with his innate status and position, and the deeply rooted interests cultivated over generations between his family and the imperial house and great clans, when he wished to be a capable official, he lacked resolve; when he wished to be an upright official, he failed the people and the realm. In over twenty years of service, beset by troubles within and without, it was like torment. By his own assessment, he had lofty aspirations but insufficient strength, accomplishing nothing. Looking across the Southern Dynasty, famous scholars who had crossed the river were as numerous as crucian carp, yet not one could be seen who could bring peace to the realm—until he encountered Li Mu, like seeing a point of light in this declining world.

If ruler and minister could coexist peacefully, the state could rise from near death, and the people could settle into their homes and occupations—this was his hope.

Therefore, even knowing the court was gravely ill beyond recovery, he still hoped that Li Mu, whom he valued, could take a step back along with this court he had supported for half his life.

But how could he not know that methods benefiting both sides were rare in this world? How remote were such hopes of his.

Gao Qiao said that in the future, if Li Mu did not rely on his achievements to scheme for usurping the throne, yet Empress Gao hindered the Northern Expedition out of personal interest or even plotted to harm Li Mu, this would be something he absolutely could not tolerate. And when the two sides opposed each other, she would inevitably be drawn in, which would also be a trial for her.

So he entrusted this final decision to Luoshen.

Because he believed in his daughter. She would not judge matters with personal bias because Li Mu was her husband or because Empress Gao shared the same surname as her.

Gao Qiao told his daughter he had left some preparations for her.

The first was Lu Jianzhi. There, under the name of local commandery troops, he maintained a completely loyal army for himself. The officers and men, aside from some former Lu family troops, were all family soldiers who had followed him in the Northern Expedition and their descendants—all brave and skilled fighters, elite troops. Starting three years ago, following his orders, they had gathered under Lu Jianzhi’s command.

His purpose in secretly maintaining such an army completely separate from the Guangling forces was to guard against the unexpected. As long as she sent word, Lu Jianzhi would immediately assemble the army for her use.

The other thing he left Luoshen was the two-piece tiger tally in the case.

Each generation of Gao family heads possessed a tiger tally used to verify identity and command troops. The soldiers knew it well—seeing the tiger tally was like seeing the family head himself. After the head’s death, the tiger tally would be buried with its owner.

The tiger tally in the case represented Gao Qiao’s seal as Gao family head.

Gao Qiao said that the Gao family was intricately connected with the imperial house. He left his tiger tally to her merely as a precaution. Before departing, he had privately summoned Gao Yin, saying that if he saw the tiger tally in future, it would be like seeing him personally—the words of whoever held the tally would be his own commands, which Gao Yin must obey. Gao Yin had readily agreed then, and he expected his brother would not break his word.

Father said at the letter’s end that today’s chaos had shown signs early on, the fault entirely his. He hoped what he left in the letter could lend her assistance, serving as some compensation for his forcibly keeping Li Mu to support the Southern Dynasty.

Finally, he urged his daughter that no matter what happened, she must consider her own safety as the first priority in all actions.

Luoshen’s heart raced, her hands trembling violently as she read through the letter with flying eyes.

She finally understood why Lu Jianzhi had petitioned the court last year, requesting the position of Xiling Governor.

Xiling was located north of the river, situated between Jiangxia and Jiangling—not a strategic location, merely an ordinary middle-tier commandery. When his mourning period ended, Feng Wei had personally recommended him, wanting to promote him. Unexpectedly, he requested to become Xiling Governor, puzzling the entire court. At the time, Feng Wei had tried to dissuade him, saying that with his reputation, going there as governor was really wasting his talents. Lu Jianzhi insisted, claiming he had traveled through Xiling in his youth and loved the mountain and water scenery there, requesting court approval. Seeing his determination, Feng Wei suspected he hadn’t emerged from the shadow of Li Mu’s earlier blow, thinking that serving together now might be awkward, hence seeking a quiet posting away from court. Though feeling regretful, he understood completely. Thus Lu Jianzhi went there to serve, becoming an obscure governor north of the river.

Her previous thoughts had been much like Feng Wei’s—perhaps after experiencing too many setbacks these years, he had grown disheartened and taken this sinecure to find solace in nature.

Only now, reading father’s letter, did she understand the deeper meaning behind Lu Jianzhi becoming Xiling Governor. It must have been father’s guidance then. Besides maintaining troops, more importantly, Xiling’s location was perfectly positioned in the middle section north of the river. Whether traveling to Jiankang or to Li Mu’s sphere of influence around Yicheng, it was very convenient.

Looking at the letter and tiger tally father had left her, remembering that night when he had summoned her to his study before leaving home—their final meeting—not knowing where he was now, her eyes grew misty.

She closed her eyes, took a long deep breath, and after calming her mind, immediately took out ink and brush, wrote a letter, called in Fan Cheng, and gave detailed instructions.

She ordered him to personally go to Xiling immediately, ensuring her letter reached Lu Jianzhi’s hands directly, requesting him to rapidly dispatch troops to come here and reinforce Yicheng.

Fan Cheng knew the situation was urgent, not a moment could be delayed. After weighing options, he could only accept the command, taking only a few men for easier travel, leaving all others with Luoshen. He briefed his deputy Yang Ji to protect Luoshen well, then departed.

From here to Xiling, traveling urgently, fast would be four or five days, slow would be six or seven days before his party should arrive.

After Fan Cheng left, Luoshen had Yang Ji select several adaptable subordinates to disguise themselves as Badong soldiers, having them approach Yicheng when opportunity arose and somehow relay news of incoming reinforcements to Li Xie and the others to boost morale.

Luoshen knew that before rescue arrived, she had done all she could. Continuing to wait here would serve no purpose.

She had A’Ju and the maids who had accompanied her from Jiankang remain in this relatively safe place, leaving some soldiers to protect them while awaiting Lu Jianzhi’s reinforcements. She herself headed toward Chang’an early the next morning.

No one could understand how anxious and desperate her feelings were.

Yicheng remained surrounded by Rong Kang’s army, while her always-respected elder brother had actually become an enemy of her husband.

Even if he came bearing imperial edicts, the garrison remaining in Chang’an could never meekly hand over Chang’an.

Setting aside whether this battle for the city had truly erupted, what Luoshen most feared was that even if Gao Yin merely deployed troops outside the city without attacking, Chang’an’s grain supply routes would surely be severed.

And once stable grain and provisions were lost, Li Mu and his great army now far beyond the passes would be like having their lifeline cut.

The fatal reason for father’s second Northern Expedition’s failure was the rear’s inability to continue grain supplies, leaving the great army unable to sustain itself, thus retreating in defeat.

This time, Luoshen knew Li Mu faced circumstances far more perilous than father’s Northern Expedition.

When father conducted the Northern Expedition, they would be satisfied if he simply failed and returned. Regardless of private slander, at least on the surface they could still make peace and coexist harmoniously.

But with Li Mu’s Northern Expedition, the situation was completely different.

Only with Li Mu could the natural hatred and opposition between aristocratic families and humble origins—existing like festering sores since this dynasty’s birth—be displayed so thoroughly.

In the Southern Dynasty, as many loved their Grand Marshal as hated him to the bone.

For every increment of love he gained, those knives and swords stabbing at him from behind, filled with fear and hatred, grew sharper by one degree.

Gao Yin might differ from others. But as Gao family head, if she didn’t quickly explain everything to him, just from how she had left Jiankang, he indeed had no reason not to treat Li Mu as a traitorous minister, much less let him betray the Southern Dynasty with the entire Gao family for Li Mu’s sake.

Luoshen’s heart burned with urgency, wishing she could sprout wings and immediately fly to Chang’an.

When elder brother learned of the current Empress Dowager’s secret dealings with Murong Ti, learned that while he was ordered to take over Chang’an, Yicheng was also deeply trapped in siege, she refused to believe he would still remain unmoved and continue following Gao Yongrong’s orders to take Chang’an and cut Li Mu’s supply lines!

Under new leader Yang Ji’s guidance, avoiding nearby roads where they might encounter Rong Kang’s forces, taking wilderness paths and circuitous northern routes, after three days they had finally traveled over a hundred li, leaving Badong camps behind.

Just as Luoshen thought she could breathe slightly easier and consider taking the faster old road ahead, on the third day’s evening, their party crossed a hill slope and suddenly saw a squad of Badong soldiers transporting military grain approaching from the opposite direction.

The encounter came so unexpectedly.

The group immediately tried to hide but were still a step too late—the other side spotted them, called out, and gave chase.

The guards protecting Luoshen immediately followed their predetermined response, splitting into two groups—one to draw the pursuers’ attention, another using terrain cover to escort Luoshen in the opposite direction, finally shaking off the pursuit. That night, both sides reunited using trail markers left on the road. After regrouping, the next morning before dawn, they continued hurrying north.

But once bad luck began, it seemed unwilling to stop easily.

At noon, behind them suddenly appeared another group of pursuers, their numbers far exceeding yesterday’s soldiers.

Clearly, this pursuit was no chance encounter but deliberate.

The pursuers not only gave relentless chase but deployed beast soldiers—the roars of tigers and leopards drew ever closer.

Since deciding to go to Chang’an days ago, she had switched to horseback like the guards around her.

Her horsemanship wasn’t particularly skilled, but controlling her mount had originally been more than adequate.

But today, her horse was clearly frightened by the successive tiger and leopard roars behind them. As it ran, its speed grew slower and slower. Seeing the beasts catching up, Yang Ji decisively led everyone protecting Luoshen toward the side mountain forest.

This pursuing force was led personally by Rong Kang.

After receiving reports yesterday, he suspected this party heading toward Chang’an included Luoshen. Unable to quickly capture the city, he simply ordered temporary siege while halting attacks, commanding beast trainers from Chouchu to drive tigers and leopards while he personally pursued through the night. Just now gradually closing in, he immediately recognized Luoshen among them, overjoyed beyond measure, spurring his forces into even more frenzied pursuit.

Under the encirclement and pincer attacks of wild beasts, they were finally driven onto a cliff slope.

Beast drivers herded tigers and leopards, surrounding the hilltop.

Yang Ji led the guards in fighting retreat, withdrawing to the cliff’s edge.

Two precipices faced each other across several zhang, with a ravine pool between the cliffs behind them. Momentarily, no retreat remained possible.

Yang Ji used rock cover to organize guards with arrow formations, blocking the pursuers’ rapid approach.

Mountain winds gusted, making Luoshen’s robes dance wildly, nearly unable to stand steady.

Positioned between two precipices with no human possibility of crossing, dozens of wild beasts surrounded three sides, Rong Kang pressed ever closer personally commanding soldiers upward, with no escape route behind—yet she felt no fear. She only took out the pouch containing the tiger tally hidden on her person, handed it to Yang Ji guarding beside her, saying: “General Yang, don’t worry about me anymore. If you can break through, you must leave, quickly reach Chang’an, and deliver this to my elder brother. Tell him about Yicheng and my situation—say this is my father’s command for him to immediately withdraw troops!”

Yang Ji looked at the pursuers pressing closer below and the beast packs prowling nearby slopes—restrained only by beast drivers, otherwise seeming ready to charge up for tearing attacks—and said gravely: “Madam, please secure your belongings! None of us brothers fears death. I deliberately led them into the mountain forest. I’ll have the brothers set mountain fires now. Once we force back the beasts and smoke rises with their cover, I will definitely escort Madam away from here!”

Luoshen looked at those faces before her, ready to die without regret, deeply moved. She securely retied the pouch with the tiger tally to herself and nodded: “Good! I trust you all! Take care of yourselves too!”

Rong Kang could see clearly—the Gao family woman he desired was on the nearby hilltop. Imagining the scene after capturing her, he couldn’t help but feel stirred.

How could he not see Yang Ji’s intent? Yet he dared not let soldiers shoot arrows to block them, fearing accidental injury to Luoshen. Afraid the fire would truly ignite, relying on superior numbers, he immediately ordered soldiers to storm up, shouting: “Everyone charge up! Don’t harm that woman—I want her alive! Whoever captures her gets first-class military merit, official rank and noble title, plus ten thousand in gold!”

Under heavy rewards, soldiers charged up the hill recklessly. Battle cries mixed with successive beast roars created a heart-stopping din.

Yang Ji roared: “Light the fire!”

The guards received orders and were about to act when suddenly, a tiger’s roar came from the forest on the opposite cliff.

This roar was deep and resonant, filled with imposing majesty. Sound waves echoed among peaks and ridges like earth-shaking thunder, lasting endlessly, instantly overwhelming all surrounding noise.

The beast pack that had been roaring in demonstration suddenly quieted. The soldiers frantically surging up the hill were also awed by the sudden tiger roar, stopping to look toward the opposite mountain forest.

A great wind swept through, surrounding trees rustling.

The tiger’s roar seemed to come from nearby behind them, shaking Luoshen’s chest with surging blood and qi.

Accompanied by the lingering echoes in her ears, she whirled around to see a massive white figure leap from the forest on the opposite cliff.

It was an adult white tiger, enormous in body with exceptionally agile form. She watched it navigate the steep, craggy cliff face several times, look toward this side, then leap with a mighty bound—its form like white lightning, actually jumping directly across the several-zhang-wide mountain ravine from the opposite cliff, landing with a “thud” steadily on this side, taking position on a massive rock protruding high from the cliff.

The white tiger looked down imposingly from its height, majestic and dignified. Facing the mountain wind, it roared again at the beast pack below—a long, wild roar full of surging fury.

Echoes resounded repeatedly among the peaks and ridges.

Everyone was stunned.

The tiger and leopard packs that had been restlessly awaiting their chance to attack, under the intimidation of this white tiger seemingly descended from heaven and filled with kingly presence, slowly lowered their bodies in submissive postures, eyes showing fearful light as they made weak whimpering sounds.

The distance was truly too close.

Luoshen was initially terrified, hidden behind guards on high alert, slowly backing away.

She widened her eyes, gazing at the white tiger standing high on the giant rock. When her gaze fell on the circle of black fur around its neck, her vision fixed, and suddenly her heart began pounding.

She recognized it—this incomparably mighty great tiger before her was the little white tiger that once shared a connection with her.

She couldn’t be mistaken. She just wondered—after all these years, did this mature adult male tiger in its prime still recognize her?

“Little Darling!”

Luoshen blurted out the name she had once called it.