Step by step, Ziqing walked at an unhurried pace, the ice-cold dagger pressed tightly against the inside of her forearm, hidden within her sleeve.

This entire war had begun with Western Chu’s provocation, been compounded by Eastern Qin’s scheming, and seized upon by Jun Beiyue as an opportunity — and yet somehow, she’d ended up cast as the “beauty who brought ruin” for no reason at all.

Now, she had no intention of becoming a hostage, of being branded as the obstacle standing in the way of Prince Yao’s eastern campaign. Besides, she still had her own business to attend to — amid all this chaos and warfare, this was the perfect opportunity to kill Jun Beiyao.

Finally, Ziqing came to a stop, just a single step away from Xuanyuan Zhaoxi.

Only then did Xuanyuan Zhaoxi study her carefully, sneering with disdain. “I’d always heard Great Zhou’s war god’s wife was a woman of considerable spirit — but it seems she’s just another coward, clinging desperately to her own life.”

Ziqing smiled faintly. “And Princess Zhaoxi, is she—”

Before she could finish, the dagger in her sleeve shot forward, plunging straight into Xuanyuan Zhaoxi’s lower abdomen — the strike so fast, so precise, so brutally forceful that no one had time to react, not even Xuanyuan Zhaoxi herself. By the time she managed to seize Ziqing’s wrist, she could only stop the blade from driving in deeper — she couldn’t block it entirely.

Only then did Ziqing lift her gaze to meet her eyes directly, continuing calmly, “—afraid to die?”

“You wretch!” Xuanyuan Zhaoxi swung a palm strike straight at Ziqing. Ziqing yanked the dagger free at once, following with a swift kick straight at the wound.

Whenever she injured someone, she always struck the same spot repeatedly — the vital point, again and again, compounding the damage.

This, too, caught Xuanyuan Zhaoxi completely off guard. She scrambled to dodge, retreating a step, only to stumble and fall.

Ziqing’s kick landed on empty air, and she immediately followed with a downward chop of her other leg. Xuanyuan Zhaoxi threw up both arms to block — only to realize too late it had been a feint. Ziqing dropped into a split, dodging the surrounding guards, and seized Xuanyuan Zhaoxi’s leg, yanking hard to pull her down!

But at that very moment, a guard pressed a broadsword against her throat. “Don’t move if you don’t want to die!”

Ziqing had no choice but to release her grip. She’d known perfectly well she couldn’t win against overwhelming numbers, but she’d wanted to try anyway. Frustratingly, she’d come so close — just a hair’s breadth from securing real leverage over Xuanyuan Zhaoxi!

She wondered whether that girl Shiliang had managed to keep her band of young beggars in line back home — without her own network of contacts, she really couldn’t manage much on her own.

Reluctantly, she released her grip and shrugged. But immediately, Xuanyuan Zhaoxi, still sprawled on the ground clutching her abdomen, delivered a vicious kick straight to Ziqing’s stomach!

Ziqing let out a muffled grunt, staggering back three full steps from the sheer force of the blow.

“Han Ziqing, if Jun Beiyue didn’t want you alive, this princess would kill you right now!” Xuanyuan Zhaoxi snapped furiously, being helped up by her attendants. Without lingering further, she hurried toward her carriage — clearly her own wound was serious.

Ziqing wasn’t faring much better herself. If Xuanyuan Zhaoxi hadn’t been gravely wounded in the abdomen, that kick alone might well have killed her outright.

Beads of cold sweat the size of peas dotted her hairline, but she kept her head lowered, saying nothing as the guards bound her roughly, hand and foot.

After going in circles, it still came down to that man having to rescue her, in the end. Was he coming to save her out of genuine feeling — or was it merely a convenient pretext?

Ziqing was escorted to Eastern Qin’s military encampment, in the hills less than three li from the entrance to the narrow gorge.

This gorge shared the same general orientation as Innocence Gorge, running north to south, mostly within Eastern Qin territory, with only a small portion falling within the Three Realms Territory belonging to Great Zhou.

Though the gorge offered excellent concealment for troops, it was equally vulnerable to ambush. Whether either side could pass through safely — or successfully spring a trap of their own — depended entirely on each side’s careful calculations.

Without question, this time, Eastern Qin had been the one outmaneuvered by Jun Beiyue.

Inside the main encampment, Xuanyuan Zhaoxi still sat draped in her lavish purple robes, seated upon a tiger-pelt chair, white gauze wrapped around her freshly treated abdominal wound.

“Princess, His Highness the Crown Prince has already been sent back to the capital. Her Majesty the Empress has said that everything here is now yours to command,” an attendant reported respectfully.

“Is my brother all right?” Xuanyuan Zhaoxi asked coldly. As Eastern Qin’s heir to the throne and a female general in her own right, she was, unlike Chu Feiyan, largely unknown to the wider world — carrying far less flamboyance, but considerably more cunning.

“His Highness remains as he’s always been. The physicians say there’s no immediate danger for now,” the attendant reported honestly.

“Send word to Jun Beiyue — tell him to come to the gorge’s dividing line. If he withdraws his troops, I’ll deliver the woman to him without fail,” Xuanyuan Zhaoxi said coldly, then swept out with a flourish of her sleeves.

In a small tent beside the main encampment, Ziqing was bound tightly to a wooden stake, surrounded by several guards standing watch, security tight and unyielding.

The moment Xuanyuan Zhaoxi entered, she immediately narrowed her eyes at Ziqing. Ziqing kept her head lowered, recognizing her boots at a glance, but paid her little mind.

“Han Ziqing. Look up,” Xuanyuan Zhaoxi commanded coldly, coming to a stop before her.

Ziqing didn’t move. Xuanyuan Zhaoxi sneered coldly. “What, brave enough to stab this princess, but not brave enough to look up at me now?”

Only then did Ziqing slowly lift her head to look at her — and in that very instant, Xuanyuan Zhaoxi’s hand shot out, striking her hard across the face with a resounding crack. “Who do you think you are! How dare you raise a hand against this princess!”

Blood immediately trickled from Ziqing’s lips. Her eyes narrowed, cold enough to send a chill through anyone watching.

“Crack!” Another vicious slap followed. “What are you looking at? This princess is the one striking you!”

Still, Ziqing said nothing, her clear eyes narrowing nearly into slits, a killing intent radiating from them so sharp that Xuanyuan Zhaoxi found herself unconsciously faltering. She raised her hand for a third strike, then stopped herself abruptly. “Don’t you dare look at me!”

Yet Ziqing’s blood-streaked lips curved into a mocking smile. “If you have the nerve, then beat me to death.”

“You—!” Xuanyuan Zhaoxi’s hand shot up again, but she couldn’t bring herself to bring it down — she genuinely couldn’t kill this woman.

She lowered her hand furiously, her voice icy. “Relying on Jun Beiyue’s protection, are you? This princess will make your life worse than death!”

With that, she immediately gave the order. “Bring me the iron rings!”

At this, even the guards standing nearby startled, not daring to delay, rushing off at once to fetch them.

What exactly were “iron rings”? They were a form of punishment unique to Eastern Qin — ten interlinked dark-iron rings, fitted onto a prisoner’s ten fingers. The rings were large enough to fit any hand. Once fitted, a single sharp pull on the chain running from the thumb would instantly tighten all ten rings simultaneously — and just how tight they became depended entirely on the executioner’s strength, and their mood.

It was said that once, someone had pulled the chain to its absolute limit, crushing every finger bone of the victim’s hands so completely that the upper halves of all ten fingers dropped off at once — a sight so horrifying no one dared imagine it.

Ziqing had no idea what “iron rings” even meant. Even now, she simply stared coldly at Xuanyuan Zhaoxi, her gaze so unnervingly steady that Xuanyuan Zhaoxi found herself unable to meet her eyes. She yanked Ziqing’s hand up roughly instead, her voice cold. “My brother gave you the Wuzheng… didn’t he?”

Ziqing said nothing. Xuanyuan Zhaoxi’s grip tightened sharply around her hand. “I’ll make you understand — you don’t deserve to possess the Wuzheng. It belongs to me!”

The Wuzheng and the Blood Zither had both been gifts from the mysterious divine physician who’d once saved her brother’s life, years ago. She’d always wanted the Wuzheng for herself, but her brother had refused to give it to her. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined he would hand over something so precious to this woman instead!

These hands of Han Ziqing’s — she was determined to destroy them.