Deputy Commander Lou’s face went pale.

He glanced at Di Yiwei.

Her clothes had been torn open by the spear tip. The fierce cold winds of the northern frontier quickly blew away her upper garments layer by layer. Now only the black iron chains could be seen, making her naked skin appear even paler. Those chains as thick as a child’s arm pressed against her chest, yet her usually somewhat hunched waist and back now stood very straight.

Deputy Commander Lou turned his gaze away as if burned by fire.

He had seen her body before.

That was many years ago, when she was still just leading a small squad and he was an ordinary soldier—a common foot soldier without status. It wasn’t easy to disguise one’s gender, but she had disguised it very well, until one time after she was injured, she couldn’t help bathing at midnight and was discovered by him when he followed out of concern for her wounds.

She hadn’t panicked. After putting on her clothes, she told him about her wandering childhood, her strange career of being both favored and tormented in the Rong manor, the Da Niu and Er Niu for whom she angrily enlisted, and the dreams she persisted in through all hardships.

Her father was from an unregarded distant branch of the Di family. He never enjoyed the protection of the Di family’s main line yet had to maintain the glory of Di family men on the battlefield. He was forced onto the battlefield just after marrying, and later died in battle.

She didn’t say how her father died, only that she would pick up the honor he left behind and accomplish what he couldn’t.

He always remembered that night—her pale gray eyes flickering like stars, her graceful figure reflected in the half-pool of water.

He also remembered swearing to keep her secret forever, willing to accompany her on the battlefield until the day when there would be no more wandering or famine in the world. If they couldn’t complete it in this life, future generations would continue.

And he did just that afterward.

Later, as the years passed, his mindset gradually changed.

He watched her climb step by step upward, and he became the man beside her. Those days of fighting side by side on the battlefield, laughing at the changing winds and clouds—she seemed satisfied with them. She didn’t want to take another step forward, but he did.

Later still, she was shot on the battlefield. Everyone thought she was a man, so it didn’t matter, but only he and the military doctor knew she was a woman. When a woman suffered such an injury, her life was ruined.

The military doctor was someone she had brought up, keeping her secret sealed, sighing softly.

He also pitied her, but after the pity came the feeling that such days could no longer continue.

Today she was wounded at the root; tomorrow she might lose her life. Dying wrapped in a horse’s hide was the most common fate for soldiers, but he wanted to live a good life with her.

Just the two of them, not always facing thousands of troops, not always entangled in various trivial matters without time to spare.

No need for wealth, no need for clamor—poetry, wine, and countryside, walking hand in hand would suffice.

However, as she continued to achieve merit, get promoted, and become a great general of the Nine Borders, his hopes grew increasingly dim.

As long as she remained the Commander, still on the battlefield, still the war god that everyone looked up to, he would forever only be able to fall one step behind her, listening to her, obeying her.

Never walking side by side.

His heart gradually began to lose peace. In the quiet nights, watching her smoke through the tent fabric to suppress her pain, that tiny flame also burned quietly in his heart.

Sometimes he thought perhaps she simply didn’t understand romantic love and wasn’t close to anyone.

He was the closest to her—living a lifetime like this would be fine too.

But once the wildfire in his heart was lit, it would never be extinguished.

He made a choice known to no one.

And not long after, when he first saw her staring blankly at that beautiful young man, he felt his choice hadn’t been wrong.

So she wasn’t incapable of loving someone.

So her heart didn’t contain only the battlefield.

So such youth and beauty, such vitality and strength, could also leave traces in her heart.

In all those years before, he hadn’t been able to get close—was it because he hadn’t tried hard enough, or because he was never the person in her heart?

Through these years of harsh winds and bitter frost, in this barren and bitter northern frontier, what supported him all the way was the knowledge that though she had never been with him, she would never spare a glance for anyone else.

Then one day this understanding was shattered, and snow began falling at the frontier.

Until today.

He had never imagined he would see her body again in such circumstances.

Heart-stopping.

The moment her clothes were torn, he had a chance to stop it.

Huang Ming’s words had hit their mark.

How could an eagle soaring high in the sky willingly huddle under another’s shelter afterward unless its wings were broken?

At this moment, he looked at her, but she didn’t look at him.

Huang Ming’s androgynous voice rang beside his ear, “Come, escort the Commander into the prisoner cart. We’ll parade her along the entire Yongping defense line, so the Yongping garrison and frontier people can see our Commander Di’s true face.”

Everyone’s heads shot up.

What did this mean?

Strip her clothes and parade her all the way for public display?

Was this meant to destroy the entire Yongping Army’s morale?

Even Lou Xi couldn’t help it, urgently saying, “Esteemed Companion, this won’t do…”

“What won’t do?” Huang Ming interrupted him with gentle words. “Female criminals who commit adultery ride wooden horses, those who disrespect their husbands wear cangues for public display. This one’s crimes involve collaborating with enemies and betraying the country—she’ll inevitably face lingchi execution in the future. Since she’ll have to be seen by the world eventually, naturally she should first be seen by the good brothers of the Yongping Army, shouldn’t she?”

He giggled, his eyes glinting with a green light.

Who was he? The third-ranking figure in Ciren Palace, the chief secretary of the Ceremonial Directorate. Almost everyone in the palace and court fawned over him, yet from the first day he came to the Yongping Army, Di Yiwei had humiliated him.

Not to mention today, before ten thousand people—when had he ever suffered such insults?

What was there to fear now? He had troops from the Shunning Commander’s Office, Deputy Commander Lou helping to suppress these people, the Central Army Marshal was still on his way, and Di Yiwei and her Scorpion Battalion were mutually constraining each other—there was no fear of mutiny at all.

Besides… he had never feared these soldiers.

Obviously this move infuriated the Yongping Army. There was commotion in the distance, and the Scorpion Battalion tents nearby began shaking again.

Huang Ming smiled, “It’s not impossible to accommodate.”

Everyone quieted somewhat, watching him tensely.

Huang Ming looked around, very much enjoying this moment when all eyes focused on him. Compared to his treatment when he first arrived, he felt so refreshed he wanted to laugh loudly.

So he did laugh loudly.

He laughed and said, “If you kowtow to me, I’ll consider adding a piece of clothing for her.”

“Shameless eunuch!” Someone immediately roared in anger.

Huang Ming smiled and spread his hands, “No compulsion, hehe, no compulsion.”

That Vice General remained silent for a long moment, his knees slightly bending. The others looked at each other and drew a breath.

Di Yiwei suddenly said, “Stop.”

Everyone stopped, not daring to look at her, all looking at the ground.

“No need,” Di Yiwei said lightly. “Even eunuchs aren’t afraid of people staring at their crotches—why should I fear being looked at?”

Huang Ming’s face convulsed, and he shrieked, “Di Yiwei, you’re nothing but a sharp-tongued, bitter old woman! Look at that chest of yours—there are even scars, and what’s that on your belly? Eyes? Disgusting to look at.”

“Those are scars I earned fighting on battlefields for Great Qian. I can guarantee every wound came from enemy swords and blades. Definitely not from lying on a bench being carved up by a castration knife.” Di Yiwei smiled, “Indeed not as pretty as yours—why don’t you take off your pants and let me study yours?”

Huang Ming: “…”

He looked up furiously, surveying his surroundings.

The generals glared at him with angry eyes.

The gun squad nervously raised their muzzles higher.

Huang Ming looked coldly at Lou Xi beside him.

“Deputy Commander Lou.” He lifted his chin, “Think clearly. You can’t turn back now. Only by accompanying me all the way will you have a future.”

“You promised not to harm her life.”

“We only want the Yongping Army,” Huang Ming said contemptuously. “Don’t worry.”

Deputy Commander Lou pressed his lips tightly, waved his hand, and his long-prepared personal troops stepped forward, forming a blade formation surrounding those generals.

At the same time, he shouted to the Scorpion Battalion, “Don’t act rashly! If you rush out of your tents, you’re rebels! If you become rebels, the Commander dies just the same!”

Di Yiwei in the prisoner cart maintained her usual attitude throughout, but she absolutely wouldn’t look at Lou Xi even once, nor had any reaction to his words.

The Scorpion Battalion’s tents fell deadly silent.

Those men who normally had only training in their daily lives, hardened to the point of numbness, still looked numb at this moment.

Di Yiwei glanced at the Scorpion Battalion, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Suddenly loud weeping came from a nearby camp tent.

The crying grew louder and gradually spread to all tents. Those men who bled but never cried were weeping publicly for the first time. Their crying didn’t sound like crying but like howls squeezed from their chests with all their might—howls filled with their past life-and-death bonds and present fury and desolation.

The cunning rabbit hasn’t died yet, but the hunting dogs are already being cooked.

The prisoner cart began rolling forward.

Camp tent flaps opened, and people knelt at tent entrances, choking out long cries, “Commander, farewell!”

As the prisoner cart passed in front of the tents, people inside prostrated themselves and wept.

The mournful cries swept across the snow-white earth.

Di Yiwei hugged her arms and said, “What are you doing? I’m not dead yet. What farewell—that’s unlucky.”

Someone took off clothes to throw over, but a guard soldier flicked them away with his spear.

Deputy Commander Lou took off his cloak.

Huang Ming frowned.

“Commander, don’t be soft-hearted,” he said. “If we don’t trample her into the dust today, when she raises her arms and calls out tomorrow, you and I will die without burial places.”

Deputy Commander Lou said coldly, “But we can’t let her freeze to death first!”

He stared fiercely at Huang Ming, who remained silent for a long moment before stepping back half a pace.

Deputy Commander Lou walked to the prisoner cart and handed in the cloak.

Di Yiwei lowered her eyelids and said, “A different one.”

Deputy Commander Lou’s hand trembled.

She had once fallen asleep wrapped in his undergarment.

Now she wouldn’t even wear his cloak.

He silently lowered his eyes, went back to get one of Di Yiwei’s own cloaks, and draped it over her. This time Di Yiwei didn’t refuse.

When he returned, Huang Ming said lightly, “When there’s no one around, she can wear it for warmth, but naked public display is the Empress Dowager’s decree. Whenever there are people, she still can’t wear it.”

Deputy Commander Lou gritted his teeth.

The prisoner cart passed through the main camp as soldiers were herded far to one side.

Suddenly someone in the auxiliary camp shouted loudly, “Down with the traitor!”

At the same time, a large handful of vegetable leaves splashed over.

Huang Ming was very satisfied, signaling the soldiers not to stop it.

The vegetable leaves splashed on the prisoner cart, then some stripped animal hides were thrown over, scattered pieces hanging on the prisoner cart, more and more accumulating.

It blocked the wind and also blocked the view of Di Yiwei.

Huang Ming still hadn’t noticed, even praising how the main camp had indeed been bewitched by the traitor—not as enlightened as the auxiliary camp.

He swayed with his characteristic walk, ordering people to set up a new tent at the location of Di Yiwei’s destroyed main tent, then drilled into the tent.

A full three thousand people escorted the prisoner cart, traveling along the garrison defense line toward the capital.

Ten thousand troops watched the prisoner cart disappear under the gray sky, withered grass covered in snow swaying in the wind.

Chi Xue rose from behind an auxiliary camp tent, wiping vegetable leaf fragments from her hands.

She went into the tent to pack a bundle, shouldered it, and said to Zhao San, “I’m going to follow the Commander.”

Zhao San looked into her eyes, knowing he couldn’t dissuade her. Just as he was about to say he’d go with her, he suddenly heard the sound of pigeons flapping their wings.

He left the tent and retrieved a small leather scroll from the pigeon’s leg.

He and Mu Si had always remained near the Yongping main camp, responsible for gathering and transmitting information for the young master. Mu Si was generally near the Liaodong Xining Pass area, while he stayed near the main camp.

Mu Si had just received the young master’s summons and crossed the border toward Xining Pass. Recently, the young master’s people had all contracted their lines, concentrating near Xining Pass, fully preparing to coordinate with the young master to intercept and kill the Great Prince at any moment.

Zhao San wondered how things were going and opened the leather scroll.

After a moment, he shot to his feet.

…

Liaodong had year-round snowfall. At Xining Pass on the three-border frontier, with its vast forests of giant trees, the snow stretched endlessly white.

The official road was already covered in accumulated snow, making travel extremely difficult for a convoy of carriages and horses.

The convoy’s carriages were quite ordinary. The double-horse carriages indicated the owner should be a minor official, with a long train of oil carts and freight wagons behind—looking like the entourage of some petty official going to take up a post.

The snow was very thick, and the wheels kept getting stuck. Some guards dismounted to push the carriages, their fingers and noses red from the cold.

Someone complained, “What’s Liang Shiyi doing? This official road doesn’t even have people assigned to shovel snow and maintain it? He clearly knew important people were coming!”

Others said, “Quiet. There are many bandits around this road. Master is traveling light and simple precisely to avoid drawing attention—why are you making noise!”

That guard said dismissively, “With so many of us, what bandits should we fear? If we encounter any, we’ll catch them easily—that would even be a merit.”

The person beside him chuckled, “Are you sure it will definitely be bandits who come?”

The guard looked puzzled, “What—”

Before he finished speaking, whoosh—a cold arrow shot forth like flowing light and lightning, aimed at the canopy of the front carriage.

The driver flicked his horsewhip with a crack, knocking down the cold arrow, and shouted loudly, “Bandits attacking!”

The guards all drew their swords, seeing over ten white-clothed figures suddenly charge from the forests on both sides, bright blade light in their hands, rushing straight for the front carriages and horses.

The leader was a slender white-clothed figure with a covered face, coldly shouting, “Leave your money and goods, and we’ll spare your lives!”

Hearing this, the guards laughed.

The guards drew swords to meet them, including those who had been pushing carts. The front several carriages immediately tilted and toppled into the snow.

Fierce battle quickly erupted on both sides. Those masked white-clothed figures struck ruthlessly but didn’t linger in combat, heading straight for the freight carriages at the rear, their long blades slashing down.

Clang—sparks flew everywhere as a long blade emerged from inside the carriage, fiercely blocking this blow that could have split the carriage.

The carriage wall silently broke into two pieces and fell. Inside the carriage was a blue-clothed guard engaged in combat, not cargo at all.

Almost all the bandits charging the carriages encountered guards inside blocking them, and the numbers immediately reversed.

For a time, the clash of blades rang out continuously.

In the second carriage at the front, while it was freezing cold outside, inside was warm as spring with heating braziers glowing.

Murong Jun, wrapped in thick fur clothing, leaned against the carriage wall. Sitting opposite him were his guard captain and capable advisor, both drinking wine with several delicate dishes before them.

Murong Jun loved wine and had a high tolerance.

He held a wine cup, listening to the sounds outside. After a while, he smiled broadly, “Mere mountain bandits dare to seek death.”

The guard captain said, “The boys are always careful—please rest assured.”

He reached out to pour wine for Murong Jun, who slightly blocked with his palm.

The guard captain paused, quickly withdrew his hand, and lowered his eyes apologetically, “This subordinate was presumptuous.”

“Ah, don’t overthink it. I just don’t want to drink for now.” Murong Jun reached out to pat his trusted subordinate’s shoulder.

The guard captain smiled, seeing that after a while, the Great Prince unconsciously picked up his wine cup again.

Of course he wanted to drink.

It was just that the Great Prince was becoming increasingly cautious. Though he loved wine, he would only drink with trusted associates, and now he personally controlled all wine vessels, not allowing anyone else to touch them.

But this caution wasn’t without reason. Too many princes had met with trouble in recent years.

The most beloved Second Prince had been reported for privately training weapons in Great Qian. The Great King personally went to collect evidence, wanting to bring back the weapons but returned empty-handed. The Second Prince fled in fear of punishment, not daring to return to Liaodong. Recently it was heard he was brought back, but was already crippled and placed under house arrest by the Great King in a separate palace. Later it was heard that during the Second Prince’s escape, he was kidnapped and forced to become a son-in-law. The woman who kidnapped him was extremely ugly but highly skilled in martial arts. She pursued him to Ruzhou and actually broke into the separate palace trying to take him away. Though unsuccessful, she killed and wounded many guards. The Great King was furious and strictly ordered this matter not be spread, but Ruzhou soon had the story circulating everywhere. The Second Prince became a laughingstock and completely lost favor.

By rights, with the Second Prince losing favor, the Great Prince should have been most pleased. However, there were soon rumors that the reason the Second Prince was pursued by that wild woman to Ruzhou and the subsequent exposure of events were all the Great Prince’s doing. The Great Prince had to repeatedly defend himself, speaking and acting carefully, not daring to show the slightest joy.

This wasn’t the end of it. Soon after, the Fourth Prince disappeared.

The Fourth Prince had always been willful and impetuous, fond of traveling around. He had gone out for long periods before, telling his princess consort and everyone being used to it. Only when he delayed returning home and they went to look for him did they discover he couldn’t be found.

The Great King then ordered the Embroidered Uniform Guard to search. Later they vaguely discovered the Fourth Prince had also gone to Great Qian and seemed to have stayed at Yueli Academy. But then the trail went cold because the academy hadn’t been in session recently—students were all in various places gaining experience, and teachers had either returned home or followed students on their experiences, making the search much more difficult.

The Fourth Prince’s escort guards also disappeared. The Great King sent palace guards to investigate Haiyou in detail. Apart from confirming the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s intelligence was accurate, they found nothing.

The Fourth Prince disappeared in Haiyou, the Second Prince was kidnapped in Haiyou. Gradually rumors spread that the Fourth Prince encountered the Second Prince in Haiyou, and the Second Prince, afraid his wretched state would be discovered, killed to silence him.

The Great King originally didn’t believe this rumor, but one day the Embroidered Uniform Guard presented him with a letter.

It was a family letter the Second Prince had written to his consort Lady Liang while in Haiyou—one asking for money, another mentioning the great scholar He Zi in Haiyou wanting to take disciples.

This circumstantially confirmed the rumor.

The Fourth Prince had even been lured over by the Second Prince.

That night, the Great King, who never showed joy or anger, smashed his desk for the first time.

The next day he issued a royal decree moving the Second Prince from the separate palace to the royal shrine to recite scriptures day and night, repenting to the ancestors.

Second Prince Consort Lady Liang knelt before the palace gates begging for mercy but failed.

With the Fourth Prince missing and Second Prince ruined, the Great Prince was happy for a few days before becoming worried again.

Because there were more rumors saying he was the mastermind behind it all, claiming a steward in his mansion had family relationships with stewards from both the Fourth and Second Prince households. When the Embroidered Uniform Guard investigated, this was indeed true.

Only family relationships existed, but no improper communications could be found.

Such matters were hardest to explain because while there was no solid evidence, the relationships truly existed. Whether to believe or not lay in the Great King’s single thought. When nothing happened, it naturally didn’t matter, but when something occurred and connections were drawn, seeds of suspicion were planted.

What made the Great Prince even more frustrated was that this matter circulated quietly. The Great King silently investigated, then silently digested the findings. From beginning to end, he never confronted him about it—he could only pretend not to know, without even a chance to defend himself.

The Great Prince was depressed for several days, feeling that continuing this way would take the throne further and further from him.

Fortunately, after the Great King gave him the cold shoulder for several days, he gradually began valuing him again and let him enter the inner study.

On the Great Prince’s first day in the inner study, scanning around, he suddenly realized—there was no Second Prince, and no Fourth Prince either.

No matter how much gossip he endured, with fewer and fewer sons the king could use and favor, even if the king didn’t want to use him, he had to.

The Great Prince cheered up, feeling that though he’d suffered some grievances, having the Second and Fourth Princes ruined was ultimately good.

But…

The guard captain and advisor exchanged glances, both silently sighing.

If things had ended there, it would have been fine.

But more troubles came afterward.

The Great Prince’s luck… didn’t seem very good.

The Great Prince obviously thought of those unfortunate events too. Even the wine before him became hard to drink, and he asked the two men melancholically, “Where do you think the Eleventh Prince has gone this time?”