Qiu Wujiu, the Grand Chancellor of Liaodong, was a member of the former royal family of the Western Rong. Years ago, when his family was overthrown by Dan Ye’s father’s rebellion, most of his clan members were slaughtered. Qiu Wujiu fled to Liaodong, where he relied on his own abilities to become the Grand Chancellor of Liaodong.

Not long ago, Qiu Wujiu resigned from his position as Chancellor of Liaodong and quietly returned to the Western Rong with his subordinates whom he had cultivated over many years in Liaodong.

Qiu Wujiu’s family had occupied the throne of the Western Rong for several generations spanning a century, with deep-rooted foundations. When the incident occurred initially, the royal faction suffered fierce attacks. Qiu Wujiu did not choose to remain in the country, barely surviving while plotting for an opportunity. Instead, he made a decisive decision to disband his subordinates, ordering his followers to scatter among the common people and hide with ordinary identities, while he himself traveled far to Liaodong.

He spent most of his lifetime managing affairs in Liaodong while also secretly contacting his former subordinates within the Western Rong. Then, three months ago, he left Liaodong and returned to the Western Rong. First, he incited the major tribes of the Western Rong to rebel, profiting from the chaos to annex them and gradually gaining momentum. The turmoil he sparked swept across more than half of the Western Rong.

He had accumulated strength for a long time and came with fierce momentum. Within a few months, his military forces had pressed directly against the royal court.

While Qiu Wujiu’s great army besieged the city, he also sent countless spies and agents into the royal city. The sleeper agents he had previously left in the royal city all surfaced. Ministers loyal to the royal court were continuously assassinated, causing unrest among the people in the royal city. At this time, Qiu Wujiu spread rumors, claiming that the Qi’ao family head was divinely mandated by heaven, while the Wuliang clan would perish within a generation.

Qi’ao was Qiu Wujiu’s clan surname, while Wuliang was Dan Ye’s clan surname. Dan Ye was merely a Han name he had given himself for convenience in his travels. His real name was Wuliang Shuoye. Just as Huyin was not called Huyin either—her real name was Mote Hulan. Shuoye meant “eagle” in the Western Rong language, while Hulan meant “red tiger.”

Originally, the great desert had no such feudal ruling concepts of divine mandate or sovereign authority for fooling the people. Qiu Wujiu had learned these from Liaodong and Da Qian, and deceiving the straightforward people of the Western Rong posed no difficulty whatsoever.

It was at this time that Dan Ye received the news and rushed back to his country to participate in the battle.

The reason Huyin did not immediately return to her country was that she was only an honorary clan leader of her tribe. Out of protective considerations, both her clan and Dan Ye had not transmitted the news to her.

But just half a month ago, when the King of the Western Rong was leading an expedition, he was shot down from his horse by a cold arrow from behind and severely injured. After that, there was no news of him.

Temporarily taking over the royal authority and the great army of the Western Rong was Dan Ye’s eldest brother, Wuliang He.

The Queen also had her own army. For unknown reasons, she angrily broke with the royal city. After a great battle in which she was defeated, she fled far from the royal city.

After that, the royal city did not continue fighting with Qiu Wujiu. They closed the city gates, and no one knew what they were doing inside. Every day people escaped, and every day countless corpses were carried out to be buried in the wilderness.

Qiu Wujiu stationed his horse before the old royal city, surrounding but not attacking. No one knew what was happening in the royal city, whether the old king was alive or dead, or what his group of brothers and sons were doing now. The royal city never raised the black flag representing national mourning above its walls, but the stench of corpses filled half the city and could not be suppressed.

When Tie Ci heard this news, she thought: there is nothing new under the sun.

Countless histories repeat in cycles.

She felt slightly worried in her heart, not knowing how Dan Ye and his Hai Dongqing were faring.

Although that young man had a terrible temperament, his heart was pure. For over ten years previously, he had been a carefree little prince who feared nothing in heaven or earth.

Could he adapt to such sudden storms and the collapse of great edifices?

Tie Ci gnawed on a lamb leg bone, gazing at the vast distant mountains as if trying to see through those natural barriers to perceive the beacon fires elsewhere.

The lamb leg bone was very fragrant, even the marrow inside was rich and aromatic.

Because they had changed cooks.

Feiyu had silently beaten up the mess hall soldiers for three days and seized the position by the cooking pot three times. After three days, under the strong petition of all the soldiers, Di Yiwei finally agreed to let Feiyu become a glorious mess hall soldier.

He still lived in the miscellaneous duties camp, but spent most of each day here in the main camp cooking meals.

The mess hall soldier had reclaimed the name Rong Wei and managed twenty mess hall soldiers, calling himself the Mess Hall Commander.

The Mess Hall Commander didn’t really cook personally much. Every day he just cracked sunflower seeds while providing on-site guidance, occasionally adding some seasonings, but the standard of meals for all the soldiers visibly improved by several levels.

It was common knowledge among all the soldiers that the Mess Hall Commander openly provided special meals only for Ye Ci.

But that didn’t mean everyone could accept it.

Therefore, people constantly went to complain to Di Yiwei, pointing out that this behavior violated regulations and showed contempt for the commanding officer.

Commander Di slowly smoked her pipe, and in the swirling smoke, spoke in a soft, mystical manner like a sorceress: “Ah, so I’m being shown contempt, and you come to tell me? Are you picking a fight for me to help you vent your anger, or are you crying to adults like children who didn’t get candy? Huh?”

She coughed once and, for once with full lung capacity, spat out a mouthful of phlegm: “Bah.”

Meeting problems without solving them yourself but only knowing how to tattle—this old man doesn’t have such cowardly soldiers under his command.

The tattletale suffered double contempt, slunk back dejectedly, threw his clothes on the ground, and wanted to have a fight with the rule-breaking commander.

Every army has a mixed bag of people, not to mention that Di Yiwei herself implemented a wolf culture. She believed that to preserve soldiers’ fighting courage, one must preserve and even foster their wildness and fighting spirit. Therefore, in the Yongping Guard army, apart from not allowing the killing of comrades and large-scale brawls, individual duels were permitted.

At that time, Feiyu was watching the water boiling in the pot without looking up.

That soldier felt he had been shown contempt once again and fiercely lunged forward, raising his hand to overturn the pot.

The next instant, someone grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and with a bang, slammed his head into the pot.

Water splashed everywhere.

People watched with their own eyes as the sturdy iron pot was dented inward from the impact.

When Feiyu lifted the person out of the pot again, that fellow’s face had already had a layer of skin scalded off, red and swollen like a pumpkin, with scallions, ginger, and garlic hanging from his nose and eyebrows.

Fortunately, the weather had turned cold and the water in the pot hadn’t fully boiled yet. Otherwise, half his head could have been scalded rotten.

The military camp was full of brave fighters who had seen all kinds of violence, but they had never seen anything this ruthless.

Everyone gasped in shock.

Feiyu looked at the ruined pot of water, shook his head very dissatisfied, picked it up and splashed it all over that unfortunate fellow, scrubbed the deformed pot, and replaced it with fresh water to concentrate on making another pot of soup for Tie Ci.

The weather was cold, and women needed to keep warm. Fortunately, the red dates he had painstakingly found earlier hadn’t been added yet, or he would definitely have dug out that fellow’s eyeballs to stuff with dates.

He looked up and scanned the crowd, saying nothing, but everyone stepped back, feeling that it was an inviting look.

“Still want to get in the pot?”

No.

Can’t afford to provoke him.

That fellow who kept screaming was hastily carried away, and the crowd scattered like birds and beasts.

Being human, the most important thing is contentment—wasn’t the food much better now?

After that, things were much more peaceful, until several days later when a squad from the Scorpion Camp returned from executing a mission. The Scorpion Camp and Blood Cavalry were Di Yiwei’s two ace units. Blood Cavalry was all cavalry, training at another camp not far away. The Scorpion Camp was the top dog of the Yongping Guard.

Di Yiwei used a venomous insect-raising method to lead her troops, openly dividing soldiers into different classes. The Scorpion Camp had food, drink, and equipment all a level above other camps, with exclusive supplies and, naturally, much higher requirements. Those people trained separately in one location and weren’t often in the main camp. When Tie Ci occasionally encountered them, she felt they all shared common characteristics: silence, wariness, and sharp, cold gazes.

Among this squad returning from their mission, there was someone like a soldier king who had always been arrogant. He didn’t particularly care about food, but the fellow whose face had been scalded was his fellow townsman. Therefore, half to avenge his fellow townsman and half dissatisfied that a mere mess hall soldier dared to be so arrogant, he sent someone to challenge Feiyu to combat.

Feiyu looked at the challenge note and said he needed to make dinner, so he wouldn’t go.

The messenger asked: “Tomorrow morning then?”

“I have to make breakfast for Ye Ci.”

“Noon?”

“I have to make lunch for Ye Ci.”

“…Then before lights out?”

“I have to make a midnight snack for Ye Ci.”

The messenger: “…”

Should I praise you for being virtuous?

When he returned and reported this, that fellow immediately became furious and went to find Feiyu himself. Since he refused the courtesy, there was no need to be polite.

But he couldn’t find Feiyu.

Halfway there, before a small slope, someone stood in his path.

The fellow looked up to see a young man standing there with his hands behind his back, smiling as he watched him.

This person wasn’t particularly tall and was too good-looking, with a gentle attitude, but when that fellow looked at him, he felt inexplicably breathless.

In a trance, he thought of phrases like “gentle breeze caressing the hillside, bright moon illuminating the great river”—such words perfectly matched this person’s bearing and demeanor.

The young man smiled and said: “Brother, please stay your step.”

He said: “I have urgent business, please step aside.”

He felt he was being exceptionally polite, but that person still wouldn’t move aside and even asked him: “May I ask what business?”

“None of your damn business.”

The proud soldier didn’t like wasting words and especially detested this kind of person who didn’t know when to advance or retreat. He reached out to grab the person’s shoulder and fling him far away.

Clearly he had struck first, but suddenly his shoulder tightened. When he looked down, he saw a slender hand on his shoulder.

That hand tightened, and intense pain struck as if his shoulder was being crushed.

He raised his hand to chop at the other’s elbow while kicking up with both legs.

But that person had already stepped forward, one hand grasping his shoulder, the other supporting his armpit. In the next instant, the world spun as he was flipped onto that person’s back. In the next moment, his body flew through the air, stars and moon flashing chaotically, then with a splash, water sprayed up more than a zhang high.

He had been thrown alive into the water.

That small stream was a full five zhang or more from where he had been standing.

The brave warriors in the army had also thrown people in combat training, but at most they could throw someone half a zhang.

A figure flashed, and the young man appeared beside the stream.

Across the water waves, his expression remained calm and could even be called benevolent.

This unfortunate fellow suddenly remembered encountering a tiger in the mountains once—that fierce beast had been leisurely sniffing a wild rose with a contented expression.

Now this fellow gave him exactly the same feeling as that rose-sniffing tiger.

As the tiger looked at him, he didn’t even have the courage to climb out of the water.

His ears buzzed, and he dimly heard the person by the water laughing and saying: “How is this none of my business? He’s cooking for me.”

He dusted off his hands and walked away. The fellow struggled to climb out of the water just in time to see someone carrying a food box approaching. The two met at the foot of the slope. The person with the food box opened the lid, revealing steaming hot lamb dumplings with paper-thin wrappers.

Their conversation drifted over on the wind.

“Today it’s lamb dumplings.”

“Mm, delicious.”

“Tomorrow someone might want to fight me.”

“Oh, then just fight.”

“You’re not going to help me solve it?”

“No, brother, I believe in you.”

“Heartless.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

The rich aroma of the lamb dumplings wafted over intensely, making the unfortunate fellow still sitting in the water cry from the smell.

After that, no one dared express any protest about unfair meal treatment.

But then rumors spread, the gist being that Ye Ci and that arrogant mess hall soldier were having an affair.

In the military camp, with long boring days and not a single sow in sight, apart from violence, the most popular topic was erotic fiction.

If there was no erotic fiction, they created erotic fiction.

In the erotic fiction, Ye Ci was sometimes on top, sometimes on bottom, able to attack or receive. This was mainly because the loyal readers of the erotic fiction were divided into two factions.

One faction, led by the fellow whose face had been scalded by Feiyu, believed that since Feiyu was so violent, he must be the dominant one.

The other faction, led by the one who had been beaten by Tie Ci, believed that Ye Ci was truly the violent one, while Feiyu, being so beautiful and skilled at cooking, would serve food during the day and serve in bed at night—how comfortable.

Later, they argued too fiercely and even fought a group battle over this, then were all punished with extra training.

Tie Ci gnawed on the lamb leg bone, thinking about these ridiculous matters, reflecting that since this camp ate nothing but mutton day after day, she might as well contribute some amusing stories for their mealtime entertainment.

Through the fence, she could see from afar that most of the lights in the miscellaneous duties camp had been extinguished, but the tent directly opposite her camp still had its lamp burning. The lamplight cast the tall shadow of a person who was bent over, working hard at something unknown.

Tie Ci gazed softly in that direction for a while, smiled, and turned back into her camp.

That was Feiyu’s tent.

His tent hadn’t originally been in that position, nor was it a single-person tent. But after he had beaten a squad of mess hall soldiers until they were scattered like birds and beasts and herded them like pigs into one tent while monopolizing the best tent and moving it to the most open position, no one dared provoke this new boss of the miscellaneous duties camp.

The position he had moved to wasn’t actually good—being too open made it windy, and in case of night raids, it would be an obvious target. But Feiyu wasn’t someone who cared about such things. He forcibly dominated the high slope, giving the miscellaneous duties camp tent the bearing of a commanding officer.

Some people thought he was marking his territory.

But Tie Ci knew why he did it.

She returned to her own tent, lit a lamp, washed up briefly, and extinguished the light.

Feiyu in his tent looked up and could see that tent light up then go dark, knowing she had gone to sleep.

He smiled and continued working with his head down.

Scattered on the ground were leather armor, whetstones, silk strings, small knives, files, and other tools. In his hands, he held something like iron wire that gleamed with a ghostly blue light, patiently and slowly grinding it.

The reason for going slowly was that the thing was extremely sharp—almost as soon as a finger touched it, the skin would break and bleed. He wore finger guards on all five fingers and moved very slowly.

Suddenly a breeze passed, lifting the tent flap. The gleaming cold wire trembled and left a deep, bone-revealing thin cut along his finger.

That slender finger already bore countless such scars—wounds healing over wounds, wounds over healed wounds, leaving behind barely noticeable dense traces.

He very skillfully pressed the wound and slowly set down the steel wire, weighing it down with something.

Beside him, Mu Si immediately applied medicine and bandaged him, saying: “Master, this thing is too dangerous. Why don’t you stop grinding it? It’s thin enough.”

“No. It’s still too thick. Once woven into the leather armor, if it’s too heavy it will affect her movements.”

“Any thinner and will you still have fingers left?!” Mu Si pulled out a small knife and slowly pressed it against the steel wire.

The steel wire silently and slowly cut into the dagger, sinking in like mud. With a clang, the dagger was severed.

“A killing weapon,” Mu Si sighed. “And you actually want to turn a killing weapon into protective gear—your inhuman brain.”

Nearby, a short person was concentrating on knitting something with two long needles. That thing was also extremely fine, white as snow. Zhao San was weaving it into a net pattern.

The wind blew up Feiyu’s long hair, which fell onto the steel wire and turned into countless wisps of light black smoke. Feiyu watched admiringly and said: “Selected the finest materials and refined them day and night to create these… Although she won’t let me give her hairpins, as a magnanimous man, I should still give the best gifts, right?”

The tall one sneered coldly: “Have you considered that with her martial arts skills, her natural abilities, and having gained Chi Fengli’s internal power, she’ll eventually be able to beat you down? And you still want to give her such a weapon that’s perfect for both offense and defense—do you want her to dominate the world?”

“Excellent. Then I’ll be the man beside the boss.”

“Then you’d better try to please her and serve her carefully. Don’t let the boss get unhappy one day and use this killing weapon to slaughter you.”

“Would she bear to? Hmm?” Feiyu glanced at him sideways. “How much she likes me—I think I need to explain this to you in detail to prevent you from continuing to have certain misunderstandings…”

“No thanks, thank you, please proceed, farewell, not seeing you out, until we meet again.”

Mu Si quickly flashed out of the tent.

Leaving Zhao San to look up at him, then at Feiyu who was spiritedly leaning over, and sigh deeply.

The disloyal one had run away, leaving him alone to face the master’s “Romantic Love History Lecture” brain-piercing magic sound again.

Heavens, was there still a chance to sleep tonight…

In Tie Ci’s tent, Tie Ci suddenly turned over to the back of the bed and lit a candle on the ground. The bed would block the candle’s light.

She took out something and was also slowly grinding it.

Moonlight slipped through the cracks in the tent, illuminating her slightly lowered profile. Her hands were gentle, her brow peaceful.

…

Author’s Note

Just one chapter today.

I’ve been running to hospitals these past few days—high blood sugar.

The bad news is that in the future I’m afraid I’ll have to bid farewell to chicken, duck, fish, meat, drinks, ice cream, milk tea, barbecue, spicy hot pot, grilled skewers, fried chicken, french fries, hamburgers, cola, snail noodles, and so on.

The good news is I don’t eat most of the above anyway.

The bad news is that what I like to eat—roast duck, spare ribs, pig’s trotters, pig’s head meat, pork cracklings, fried chicken wings, intestines, pig’s stomach, salted meat, sausages—will all be contraband from now on. Fish and vegetables, which I don’t like eating, will be my main food from now on.

The good news is I might be able to lose weight.

My health has been poor for the past six months, and it seems I’ve found the reason. I can no longer provide very frequent updates for this book. What I want to achieve is to complete it smoothly. Next year I’ll probably take a break. Taking medicine, exercising, losing weight, recuperating—when you reach middle age, health comes first.

I also hope everyone takes care of their health.