The only ones who could command that hundred-thousand-strong western army, aside from Chu Tiange’s own tiger tally, was the Western Chu Emperor’s imperial decree!

There was no doubt about it — the Emperor himself had ordered the retreat.

Amid the crowd’s astonishment, a crossbowman rushed forward urgently, and upon seeing the scene before him, froze, at a total loss for what to do.

Chu Tiange bellowed furiously from a distance, “Speak!”

Left with no choice, the crossbowman shouted, “Prince Xiang! The moment the rebellion broke out, His Majesty ordered thirty thousand cavalry to remain and guard the capital, while dispatching seventy thousand cavalry in three columns to flank and suppress the rebels from behind!”

The moment these words left his mouth, everyone froze in shock — even Chu Tiange himself stood stunned. His father, wise for a lifetime, had made such a foolish decision in a single moment! Fearing the fall of the capital and the loss of the throne, did he not realize — if the city gates here couldn’t be held, it was Western Chu itself that would truly fall?

Once troops retreated and the enemy pursued, defeat would follow inevitably, blow after blow. But in Western Chu, an imperial command carried the weight of military law — even the thirteen great armies had no choice but to obey.

Chu Tiange couldn’t even protect himself right now — how could he possibly protect this hundred-thousand-strong army?

He glared furiously up at Jun Beiyue, his voice icy. “If I can’t destroy your tiger army, then this king will destroy the one pillar holding up your entire Great Zhou!”

With that, he channeled his strength in one final, desperate burst, pouring every last drop of internal power into wrenching Jun Beiyue downward with all his might!

Jun Beiyue kept one hand braced behind his back, hidden within his billowing white robes, relying on that single hand to steady himself against the crosswind. Now, he raised his other hand once more, sneering coldly. “I’d originally planned to spare your life — thought I’d let my Great Zhou generals carve up your Western Chu among themselves. Such a pity…”

With that, without warning, he struck Chu Tiange’s head with a brutal palm strike — internal power against internal power, and in the end, Jun Beiyue’s proved the stronger.

In that instant, Chu Tiange was sent hurtling violently off the cliff, his figure vanishing into the crosswind in the blink of an eye, leaving behind only a furious cry: “Jun Beiyue! This king refuses to accept this! This king refuses to accept this!”

Jun Beiyue remained suspended in the crosswind as Chu Tiange’s fading roar dissolved into silence. The entire length of Three Realms Bridge fell into a dead, eerie stillness, as though heaven and earth themselves had gone silent.

Watching from a distance, Ziqing’s brow tightened sharply. Just as she’d suspected — the calm lasted only a moment. Chu Tiange’s remaining crossbowmen seemed to go mad all at once, crying out in unison, a sound so thunderous it shook the very earth: “Prince Xiang!”

The roar echoed through the entirety of Innocence Gorge like thunder, and amid that deafening cry, dozens of crossbowmen, heedless of their own lives, surged as one straight toward Jun Beiyue through the crosswind, unleashing a hail of crossbow bolts!

The speed was so overwhelming that even the shadow guards couldn’t react in time. Just as they moved to intercept, the crossbowmen had already ridden the wind straight to their target, chasing after their fallen lord.

And then — then Jun Beiyue’s abdomen, chest, both shoulders, both legs — every vital point on his body was struck by arrows, blood erupting from every wound at once, a sight so horrifying no one could bear to look at it directly.

Ziqing’s heart clenched inexplicably. Finally, she could predict the outcome — this man was going to die.

In such a fierce wind, over such a bottomless gorge, who could possibly save him now?

And yet, even now, he held the exact same posture as before — suspended in midair, both hands still braced behind his back, his white robe whipping wildly in the merciless wind, slowly turning crimson with blood.

Beneath his feet, not far below, the battlefield he had shaped through sheer force of will was already showing signs of a decisive outcome.

Ziqing couldn’t say why, but she was certain — something had shattered that army’s morale entirely. The hundred-thousand-strong cavalry was retreating like a routed, collapsing force — “retreat” was too kind a word; it was closer to outright flight.

Meanwhile, Great Zhou’s army, fired up by Jun Beiyue’s promise of “land and title,” fought with the ferocity of tigers and lions, storming the city gates with overwhelming momentum.

And yet, tragically, the war god of Great Zhou who had orchestrated all of this remained trapped in the merciless crosswind of Three Realms Cliff, his life hanging by the thinnest of threads.

Without quite realizing it, Ziqing turned her head — and when she saw that Xuanyuan Lige, too, was gazing up at the bridge at that very moment, her heart lurched with alarm. Belatedly, she realized she’d actually been hoping this man would step in to save Jun Beiyue!

Right now, only Xuanyuan Lige had the power to save him.

But why would he ever do that?

It looked like a single battlefield, a war between two nations — but in truth, this was a war of three nations, a struggle among three kings.

One king had already fallen. Another was about to die. Xuanyuan Lige was the true, ultimate victor.

“Ching!”

His soaring melody abruptly stopped. His long, elegant fingers, as calm and composed as his ethereal, beautiful face, slowly settled against the strings — but strangely, only a single finger remained hooked there, poised.

He gazed up at that distant figure, black hair and white robe whipping wildly against the sky, and a faint curve slowly touched his pale lips.

Ziqing’s heart lurched with sudden alarm. Without thinking, she flung herself forward!

“Bang!”

A wind blade, snapped instantly from his long index finger, struck Ziqing squarely in the abdomen — a force she knew all too well, one that rivaled the impact of a bullet.

Her small face turned instantly pale. The pain was searing, but she didn’t dare so much as glance at the wound, glaring furiously at Xuanyuan Lige instead. “Kicking a man while he’s down — that’s the mark of a lowlife!”

“I was never a gentleman to begin with. Step aside.”

Xuanyuan Lige’s voice turned suddenly sharp. Ziqing had never seen him so fiercely intent before — as though he meant to see Jun Beiyue dead, no matter what.

“It was Western Chu that destroyed your Great Qin! It was Western Chu that seized half your ancestral lands! Jun Beiyue has guarded Great Zhou’s northern frontier since he was fifteen — six full years, shielding your Eastern Qin from war and bloodshed all that time. And now you’d repay kindness with betrayal? Even if you restore Great Qin this way, who in this world would ever respect you for it?”

Ziqing challenged him furiously. She had no idea how much longer Jun Beiyue could hold on, but she refused to give up on his last hope. All she could do was buy him time.

“Get out of my way!”

Xuanyuan Lige’s voice turned colder still, but Ziqing refused to yield.

His finger shifted slightly, and Ziqing dodged sideways at once, drawing her dagger to block!

But then — “Ching!” — the wind blade struck the dagger and rebounded violently backward!

Ziqing tensed in shock; even Xuanyuan Lige froze in surprise. There had to be something special about this dagger!

Neither of them had time to dwell on it further — Xuanyuan Lige’s movements suddenly grew faster, more numerous.

Meanwhile, Ziqing’s own reflexes proved sharp enough — weaving swiftly through the barrage of wind blades, blocking some, deflecting others, letting not a single one through unanswered.

Ziqing was formidably skilled in her own right, but blocking Xuanyuan Lige’s wind blades was no small feat — without question, she owed much of her success to this dagger.

It was the same one Jun Beiyue had thrown to her from a distance during their encounter with the wolf pack — its material unknown, gleaming pure silver from end to end, reflecting light with extraordinary brilliance, sharp enough to cut through iron like mud.

Ziqing hadn’t even had a chance to properly examine it before, yet on only its third use, she already handled it with remarkable ease.

Amid this fierce exchange, Ziqing gradually began to tire — after all, Xuanyuan Lige was striking with all ten fingers at once.

Just as she felt herself on the verge of collapse, a sharp, piercing whistle suddenly tore through the air from high above!

What kind of force could an arrow possess, to cut straight through this crosswind with a sound audible even from here?

At once, Xuanyuan Lige’s ten fingers froze mid-motion, and he looked up sharply, brow furrowing.