In the royal palace, that loyal and devoted guard captain proved quite capable, setting up crossbows at strategic high points. From their elevated positions, arrows rained down like a storm, and corpses piled upon corpses along the mountain path.
Small groups of people fought in chaotic melees—on the mountain path, beneath the jade steps—blooming clusters of blood flowers one after another.
Roars, the sound of arrows, screams of agony all merged into one cacophony. The once-magnificent royal palace had now become a living hell.
Yet someone walked calmly through the pools of fresh blood and corpses scattered everywhere.
Tie Ci and the Eagle Lord advanced side by side up the mountain path, with corpses constantly tumbling down at their feet. Neither of them spared even a glance.
Whether they were palace guards or Namutu’s men, it was all good for them.
Through the melee crowds, Tie Ci gazed toward the highest point of the royal palace center. The palace halfway up the mountain was wreathed in clouds and mist, with golden roofs and jade-green tiles faintly visible through the white clouds, looking like a celestial palace from afar.
She smiled and said, “Building the royal palace on a mountain—only the Western Rong would do such a thing.”
“Do you know why the Western Rong went to such great trouble to build their palace at such heights?” The Eagle Lord looked back. At the foot of the mountain was the palace square, now swarming with countless people pouring in, dark masses clustering together like ant colonies doused with boiling water.
“It seems it’s not merely for the ability to see far from a high vantage point,” Tie Ci said with laughter in her voice.
“We Western Rong men don’t have that much leisure and refined taste,” the Eagle Lord curled his lip, looking up, his voice growing deeper. “On one hand, it brings us closer to the gods, and makes the palace a divine palace among the people. On the other hand, in the royal palace…”
Before he could finish speaking, someone stumbled out from the upper steps, collapsing against the railing and gasping for breath.
It was Namutu, with a knife wound on his arm, blood flowing steadily.
The uppermost level had no chaotic fighting, because both sides were at a stalemate, and the two leaders had made the decision to engage in personal combat.
It sounded incredible, but in the Western Rong, this was the most normal way to handle such situations. When the forces brought by both sides were equal, to avoid more carnage, the leaders would first fight to determine victory.
After all, in the early years when the population was small, this was a necessary measure to preserve manpower.
The birth of the first generation Western Rong king came from victory in such duels, though now that Western Rong emulated Great Qian in all things, this kind of dueling that Great Qian considered barbaric and absurd had gradually decreased.
Today, between nephew and uncle, because they belonged to the same tribe and many of the soldiers they brought were from the same clan, to preserve tribal strength, both chose to duel personally without prior agreement.
Namutu had been called the foremost warrior of Western Rong in his early years. Though the Great Prince was born of royal blood and practiced martial arts without cease, his natural talent was ordinary, far inferior to the young Wolf Lord Dan Ye.
One had strength, the other had youth—it should have been a clash of tigers, with a stalemate difficult to break. But clearly, reality was not so.
The Great Prince appeared extraordinarily powerful, his internal energy deep and vigorous. In just three moves, he had wounded Namutu.
Tie Ci and the Eagle Lord ascended the final step.
They saw Namutu’s face deathly pale with a shocked expression, while the Great Prince showed no victor’s satisfaction. His expression also carried a hint of bewilderment, his breathing very heavy, his face flushed with an unnatural red.
He felt as if he had borrowed power from heaven at this moment—power not under his own control. After striking with his blade, blood surged throughout his body, burning and scorching, even his meridians seemed to ache from the burning.
He wanted to kill, wanted to see blood, wanted to see more corpses.
He roared wildly and lunged forward.
That speed was so fast that Namutu’s guards couldn’t rescue him in time, watching helplessly as the Great Prince chopped down repeatedly on Namutu’s limbs.
Namutu had profound iron treasure armor protecting his front and back, but if his limbs were chopped up enough, he would still die.
The blade fell like violent snow, creating continuous flashing shadows, stroke after stroke, as fresh blood and flesh splattered continuously onto the snow-white railings, trickling down along the carved snow lotus patterns.
Namutu convulsed under the Great Prince’s nearly berserk blade, completely unable to resist.
Fresh blood sprayed all over the Great Prince’s head and face. His eyes bulged, teeth gleaming white, muscles contorted—he looked ferociously inhuman.
The screams seemed to pierce into the thick, heavy clouds in the sky. Countless people rushed up to the top jade platform—guards, soldiers, ministers, tribal leaders… then trembled all over, shocked by the scene before them.
The two people who had been closest in the past, blood relatives as nephew and uncle, now drew blades against each other, with the uncle suffering brutal slaughter by his nephew.
And the Great Prince, usually steady and peaceful, now appeared as terrifying as a demon.
This side of him shocked and bewildered everyone.
Could this be the true Great Prince?
Hiding a demon in his heart, disguising it with a gentle mask, and when it erupted, he could cruelly slaughter even his own uncle who had rendered him great service?
Everyone felt chilled to the bone. Someone cried out in terror, “Wunaliman!”
Wunaliman was the evil ghost from Western Rong legends—wearing human skin, dressed in fine clothes, painted with colorful makeup, killing people according to mood and whim, then eating their flesh after killing them.
The Western Rong people valued keeping corpses intact and deeply feared this manner of death.
This cry was extremely piercing. Wuliang He seemed to hear it too, and his hand paused.
The elder beside that person quickly covered his mouth.
But the Great Prince didn’t turn around immediately. He glanced at Namutu, who had been chopped into short segments, grinned, and reached out to push.
But Namutu wasn’t dead yet. With his dying breath, he opened his eyes, hatred and fury flashing in them, then suddenly lowered his head.
The hairpin atop his head shot out silently.
It pierced into the Great Prince’s chest.
At this moment, Tie Ci happened to walk to the Great Prince’s side. She raised her hand and completely pushed that thin hairpin, still showing a bit of its tip, into Wuliang He’s chest, her fingers falling like wind, quickly tapping several points around his heart.
This was a method her master had taught her—she said this could temporarily slow blood circulation, preserve a breath of vital energy from being lost, and double the stimulation of remaining life force.
The three-piece set was what she had given to Namutu. When each would play what role, she had arranged everything long ago.
The hairpin was extremely thin, the entry wound not obvious, and wouldn’t cause much bleeding. The fatal damage was already done, yet it could still allow the Great Prince to perform once more according to her arrangements, and with his final potential stimulated before death, he would be stronger than usual.
The Great Prince indeed, in his excited state, didn’t even feel much pain. He suddenly spun around and fixed his gaze on the young man who had earlier cried out “Wunaliman.”
The young man and the elder beside him turned deathly pale under his stare.
The elder hurriedly pulled the young man back while repeatedly calling out, “Guards! Guards!”
But the Great Prince had already pounced.
His pounce was like an eagle descending to earth or a fierce tiger breaking from its cage, actually creating a gust of wind that knocked surrounding people off their feet. People cried out and fled in chaos, but he only charged toward that target, kicking the young man down and raising his hand to grip his throat.
The elder’s scream was heart-rending: “A’hai!”
The slender neck was gripped tightly, the Great Prince’s five fingers closing—
Then he paused.
Then his entire body stiffened.
The young man had thought he was certainly dead, never expecting that final grip not to come. He fearfully opened his eyes, and before he could react, the elder had already scrambled over, pulling the young man from the Great Prince’s grasp.
The other ministers and leaders, including those guards, all retreated in alarm.
The Great Prince slowly turned his head.
All his previous wild ferocity was gone. His head-turning motion was incredibly difficult—the crowd could even hear a grinding sound like rusted metal.
He turned back and saw the Eagle Lord wearing a lucky baby mask.
His turbid eyes flashed with a trace of confusion.
Tie Ci smiled slightly and turned to look at the battle situation below.
Hmm, both sides were fighting to mutual destruction.
The Eagle Lord met the Great Prince’s gaze and slowly removed the mask he had worn for so long.
This mask was something he had picked up on the road during his hasty flight back then. He had dusted it off and put it on his face, later meeting Tie Ci and never removing it since.
He had made a vow.
When he removed the mask would be when he reclaimed everything.
Only this day had come faster than he had imagined.
All because of Tie Ci.
Countless burning gazes saw the face beneath the mask clearly and cried out in surprise.
“Wolf Lord!”
Though Western Rong had suffered upheaval, no one would forget the true Wolf Lord who had served for over ten years, Western Rong’s heir Wuliang Shuoye.
They had thought this person was already dead, but now seeing him appear, seeing him watch the chaos below, seeing that blade that had pierced Wuliang He’s back.
Everyone finally understood that the enormous upheaval that had erupted this night was connected to him.
Tie Ci turned her head to look at Dan Ye’s face, releasing a long breath in her heart.
Though Dan Ye hadn’t tried to hide it and she had long known who he was, seeing him finally willing to remove his mask still made her very relieved.
Dan Ye didn’t look at anyone else, calmly and slowly drawing his blade.
Wuliang He still had one breath left, staring at him intently.
Dan Ye neither avoided nor retreated, even showing a slight smile, still faintly wild and sweet as before, with three-tenths of his small canine teeth showing.
He said, “Was the beef delicious?”
Wuliang He’s eyes flashed with confusion, then his whole body shook. He opened his mouth to say something, but unfortunately, as soon as he opened his mouth, a large gush of fresh blood flowed out, choking his final words.
Only now did he understand why he had suddenly become so irritable and suspicious, so wildly uncontrollable, his strength increased while his life force was prematurely drained.
Non-poisonous beef didn’t mean there were no problems.
He had seized the throne, killed his father, sat on this gorgeous, burning height for less than half a year, then came crashing down.
Returning to dust.
Dan Ye looked at the corpse at his feet without expression.
He said, “Hang this treacherous minister’s corpse at the city gates.”
Complete silence.
Dan Ye waited patiently without hurry.
After a good while, the elder pulled the young man and knelt first, saying solemnly, “Yes.”
He paused, then said, “We welcome the Wolf Lord’s return.”
Dan Ye glanced at him.
Whether sparing Wuliang He a breath to act earlier, or killing Wuliang He in time to save the young man’s life, it was all because of this elder. He was currently the leader of a powerful tribe within the royal city, also holding the position of Western Rong Royal City General Administrator with jurisdiction over the royal army, and leader of a strong tribe second only to the three great tribes. That young man was his only grandson.
With him taking the lead, people immediately knelt and hailed the Wolf Lord. The crowd was still somewhat uneasy, carefully watching Dan Ye, fearing he would settle old scores. But Dan Ye remained calm, sheathing his blade and saying, “Those loyal to me at this moment—past matters are forgiven.”
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and immediately knelt again to hail him, this time much more resolute than before.
Dan Ye stood at the highest railing, issuing order after order.
Wuliang He had killed his father to usurp the throne, acting against righteousness, murdering ministers, oppressing the people—he had been executed.
Namutu had aided the tyrant—he deserved to be torn apart by chariots. But having already been exterminated by Wuliang He, his remaining crimes would not be pursued. Relatives could voluntarily collect his body; if no one collected it, it would be abandoned in the wilderness.
Seven hundred thirty-two close associates of Wuliang He and Namutu were to be hunted down and killed without exception. Those who contributed to killing these rebels would be granted the official positions of those they killed.
Apart from this, others who had been coerced into compliance would be forgiven for past actions.
While the royal city was in chaos, emergency orders were implemented. All people were forbidden from moving about freely. Tribal private army leaders would temporarily reside in the palace under royal army protection and surrender their tribal military command tokens.
…
Orders flowed like water. The final command made everyone hesitant—was this keeping all ministers and leaders as hostages in the palace? And stripping military power? Wasn’t this putting their lives in the hands of this new king? In chaotic times, how could military power be surrendered?
However, at this time, Dan Ye’s army brought by Huyin had also taken advantage of the chaos to enter the royal palace. While Namutu’s forces and the royal army were fighting each other, they quickly occupied advantageous positions. When the orders from above were issued, both Namutu’s army and the royal army below were dumbfounded—their leaders were gone, what was there to fight for?
Later, hearing that past actions would be forgiven, they laid down their weapons and were guarded and disarmed by Huyin’s allied forces.
With a wave from Dan Ye, the allied forces locked down all routes up and down the royal palace.
Tie Ci thought the Western Rong royal palace design was indeed very interesting—the higher you climbed, the easier you were to control. Once you went up, coming down became difficult. Block the entrances and exits, and no one could leave.
Everyone had no choice but to obediently remove their various tokens, which Dan Ye handed to trusted generals to summon one by one.
The royal palace gradually quieted down.
Lights were lit in the great hall.
Behind them, the deep mountains echoed with rustling wind and rolling tree waves, with the distant howls of wild beasts audible.
Dan Ye walked toward the great hall.
The crowd automatically parted before his steps.
Like water silently splitting in half before a sharp spear, revealing the clear path in the center.
But only Dan Ye knew this path was not smooth.
His eyes swept over the scorching Hanli Khan Desert and the snow-covered Hanli Khan Desert, over those days of lacking clothes and food, over blood-stained city walls and ten-thousand-li journeys, over constantly appearing and disappearing sandstorms, and armies appearing like phantoms in the sandstorms.
His mouth filled with lingering bitterness, as if he were again eating that ugly, disgusting frog meat from the oasis, or seeing the taste that rose in Kusuli’s throat after she closed her mouth.
A faint fragrance drifted on the wind, incredibly subtle amid the bloody atmosphere, yet only he could sense it clearly and distinctly.
His steps grew slower and slower.
Finally, he stopped.
Under people’s puzzled gazes, he stood still, turned around, and toward Tie Ci, who was leaning against the railing behind him with a smile watching his retreating figure, he extended his hand.
Everyone held their breath.
The sounds of battle gradually ceased.
Thin clouds curled beneath their feet. The Western Rong royal palace was like a divine palace in the clouds. Atop the white clouds, Western Rong’s new king extended his hand toward the person in his heart.
You accompanied me through the most difficult path.
Please also accompany me as I walk this final stretch of the flower-strewn, brocade road.
…
Everyone’s envious gazes gathered on Tie Ci.
All knew that today’s success was due to these Great Qian merchants. At this moment, with the Great King’s gesture, this person would become Western Rong’s incomparably prestigious new noble in the future.
Some were also thinking—would such unprecedented favor eventually create another pair like Wuliang He and Namutu?
Tie Ci hadn’t expected Dan Ye to suddenly turn back and extend his hand.
She had been watching his retreating figure with a loving mother’s gaze, thinking that papa had finally completed his mission.
Then suddenly, her son was being so filial.
Excessive filial piety was also hard to bear. She coughed and smiled, half-bowing with practiced Western Rong language: “My Great King, that glory belongs to you alone. No one but you is worthy of it.”
Dan Ye gazed at her, but as if he hadn’t heard, suddenly turned and strode over, grabbing her hand in one motion.
Tie Ci looked up at him.
Dan Ye’s eyes held no laughter as he said, “Not just this path—even that throne at the end should be shared by you and me.”
Tie Ci smiled: “What, are you afraid?”
She had meant to tease him for acting strange, but Dan Ye immediately responded, “Yes, afraid. Without you, I dare not sit there.”
Tie Ci was speechless.
The next instant, she grabbed Dan Ye’s hand in return, preparing to throw him onto that throne.
Dan Ye didn’t move. He knew he was no match for Tie Ci now. He only said, “If you throw me up there, I still won’t sit. You can’t press down on me for twelve hours, can you?”
Tie Ci gritted her teeth: “What exactly do you want to do?”
“Stay with me.”
“Impossible.”
“Then I don’t want this Western Rong.”
“You’ve suffered so much, finally reaching today, and you say you don’t want it just like that?”
“All I ever wanted was revenge. Now that revenge is complete, I don’t care whether I have the throne or not. But you—if it’s not me sitting on that throne, no one will help you achieve those conditions of yours.”
Tie Ci began to laugh coldly: “Little bastard, are you threatening me?”
“Yes, I’m threatening you,” Dan Ye said fearlessly. “If you don’t want all your scheming to come to nothing, then share this Western Rong with me. I’ll submit to you, swear never to betray you. Western Rong’s vast good land can accommodate your planning and ambitions. Western Rong will forever be your retreat. I don’t even require you to always stay in Western Rong—just establish me as your royal husband, come stay for one month each year for summer retreat.”
He spoke these words extremely fluently, clearly having pondered them in his heart for a long time.
“Tie Ci, your heart is set on the world, but you have many constraints. I give you Western Rong—from now on when you want to train troops you’ll have grasslands, when you want to recruit soldiers you’ll have warriors, when you want to hide you’ll have mountain ranges, when you want to emerge you’ll have countless fierce cavalry. You’ll possess the world’s greatest backing and an eternal retreat. You and those you care about will forever stand in an invincible position. This is the greatest repayment I can give you, and the reward you deserve for this hard work. Are you really not tempted?”