Tonight, Suiyuan City within the Three Western Cities blazed with lights, the city walls lined with lanterns winding along the ramparts like a fire dragon coiled across the mountain ridge. Every soldier guarding the city tonight had been swapped out for the Tiger Army, under the unified command of the White Tiger General.

Once the hour of Hai arrived, all four city gates would be sealed shut, with no passage permitted for anyone. Tonight was the night Western Chu formally surrendered, the night Western Chu made peace with Western Jing — the night the treaty would be settled.

Tonight, whatever the Western Chu emperor or the Western Jing emperor decided — down to the smallest word spoken — would shape the future of the entire Longyuan continent.

And Jun Beiyue was the witness to this negotiation — his every word and action carried enormous weight.

The banquet was set at the northernmost point of Suiyuan City’s ramparts, inside a massive beacon tower. From here, one could gaze out across the borders of all three nations — Western Chu, Western Jing, and Da Zhou.

All guards were made to stop a hundred paces from the beacon tower — neither the Western Chu emperor nor the Western Jing emperor, nor even their personal bodyguards, were permitted any closer.

This was to prevent assassination, and to prevent any other interference.

The rules had been set by Jun Beiyue himself — and since both rulers had come onto Jun Beiyue’s own territory, no matter how great their grievances or discontent, they would have to abide by his terms.

There were only two paths leading up to the beacon tower, one on the left and one on the right. By now, Jun Beiyue, Ziqing, and Situ Haonan were already waiting up in the tower.

Jun Beiyue wasn’t dressed in his usual black combat attire tonight, but in resplendent purple robes. If Xuanyuan Lige wore purple with an air of mysterious, dreamlike allure, then Jun Beiyue wore it with an air of unmatched majesty — an imperial nobility beyond compare, a man’s commanding presence that seemed entirely natural to him.

This was the first time Ziqing had seen him dressed this way. Though she’d already spent a good while admiring him back in their quarters, she still found herself unable to stop stealing glances at him even now.

This man was dazzling even in the dark of night, like the sun itself, leaving every other hero present in his shadow.

A banquet table had already been laid out inside the tower — ninety-nine exquisite dishes, ninety-nine jars of fine wine, a full display of Da Zhou’s prosperity and Prince Yao’s generosity. Ziqing and Jun Beiyue stood leaning against the railing as husband and wife, surveying everything below, while Situ Haonan lounged lazily off to the side, seemingly preoccupied with something on his mind, saying nothing.

“They’ve arrived.”

As Jun Beiyue’s flat voice fell, two groups of people emerged from the side gates on the left and right walls, their guards all left behind, their masters advancing on foot alone.

On the right came the people of Western Chu — just two of them. Leading the way was none other than Chu Tiange, whom they hadn’t seen in quite some time, clad in a magnificent suit of bronze armor, his bearing as commanding as ever, though as a man from a defeated nation, his usual arrogance had noticeably dimmed, his once-sharp brow now considerably more restrained.

The man behind him was in his fifties, his temples streaked with gray, yet still powerfully built, his stride brisk and vigorous, head held high and chest out, his gaze as sharp as a hawk’s, radiating an untouchable air of authority. This was none other than the father of Chu Tiange and Chu Feiyan — the Emperor Xiaokang of Western Chu, Chu Jing!

“The Western Chu emperor — though defeated, and though advanced in years — still hasn’t lost his edge,” Ziqing said flatly, her clear eyes scrutinizing every single person below, as if she could see straight through them all, piercing directly to their hearts.

“Now the Western Jing crown prince, on the other hand, seems rather interesting.”

Jun Beiyue, however, had never had any interest in the defeated. His entire attention was fixed on the people from the other side — Western Jing!

On the other side, three people had come from Western Jing. Leading the way was neither the crown prince nor Princess Yelu Qianqian, but rather Western Jing’s most famous general, Dugu Xianyun.

Tonight, he kept the lowest profile of all — though he’d shed his military uniform for a plain gray robe, his build and the way he carried himself made it unmistakable that he was a military man.

This fellow had become Western Jing’s grand general at the remarkably young age of just past twenty, commanding all of Western Jing’s forces. None of Western Jing’s military victories in recent years would have been possible without his contributions.

And despite all this, he’d somehow managed to avoid overshadowing his own ruler — rumor had it he wasn’t even a man of the Western Jing emperor’s own choosing, but had been personally promoted by the crown prince himself.

If Dugu Xianyun hadn’t come from such humble origins, he might well have already been ranked alongside Longyuan’s two great heroes, Jun Beiyue and Chu Tiange.

Walking behind Dugu Xianyun was Western Jing’s Emperor Zude. Now that he’d drawn closer, Ziqing could finally see him clearly — Yelu Qianqian truly was this emperor’s own daughter; the resemblance in her brow and expression was unmistakable.

Unlike Western Chu’s sharp-eyed Emperor Xiaokang, Western Jing’s Emperor Zude had a pair of large, kind, gentle eyes, bright and full of warmth, exuding a friendly, approachable air — beyond his dignified authority, there was something of an elder’s warmth to him, and Ziqing’s first impression of him was quite favorable indeed.

Of course, Ziqing also knew that raising a daughter as innocent and pure as Yelu Qianqian didn’t mean the Western Jing emperor himself was innocent in the slightest.

As for Dugu Xianyun and the Western Chu emperor, Ziqing’s gaze didn’t linger on them for long, because Jun Beiyue’s attention had remained fixed the entire time on the Western Jing crown prince, Yelu Chenyi!

This crown prince was, without question, the most low-profile crown prince on the entire Longyuan continent — his reputation didn’t even come close to matching that of his younger sister, Princess Qianqian.

And yet, he was Western Jing’s only prince, the sole heir to the throne — a position no one could shake.

He walked at the very back, his head lowered the entire time, so Ziqing couldn’t get a clear look at his face. She could only see that he was tall and imposingly built, and anyone experienced enough could tell from his posture and gait that this man was undoubtedly a serious martial artist.

“What’s so interesting about him?” Ziqing asked with a smile.

Before Jun Beiyue could even answer, Situ Haonan, who had been silent for quite a while beside them, suddenly asked out of nowhere, “Why didn’t Yelu Qianqian come?”

A complicated flicker passed through Ziqing’s eyes as she teased, “On an occasion like this, if the Western Chu emperor had brought her along, wouldn’t that have thrown the whole thing into chaos?”

“That girl’s temperament would definitely want her to come along — it doesn’t make sense,” Situ Haonan said, sounding thoughtful.

“Why don’t you go ask her yourself later,” Jun Beiyue said with a smile.

“I was just asking, that’s all. This isn’t the martial world’s turf — I’m just here as a spectator, to broaden my horizons. Absolutely all ears, no mouth — I’ll only listen, never speak!” Situ Haonan said, standing up to straighten his robes, then positioned himself off to the side like a guard, arms folded around his sword.

Of course Yelu Qianqian wouldn’t be here — by now, that girl was probably confined to the palace, being prepared for her upcoming marriage!

“This Yelu Chenyi…”

Jun Beiyue was just about to continue, when he noticed the Western Chu Emperor Xiaokang suddenly stop in his tracks below, tilting his head up to stare at him, refusing to move any further.

“What does he mean by this?” Ziqing asked in a low voice.

Jun Beiyue paid it no mind, continuing instead, “Yelu Chenyi was born of the empress. Ever since childhood, he’s been extremely withdrawn — even when the Western Chu emperor speaks to him, he never answers, only ever acknowledging his mother. After the empress passed away…”

Before Jun Beiyue could finish, the Western Chu emperor below suddenly barked out sharply, “Jun Beiyue, is this how Da Zhou treats its guests? Does the great and civilized nation of Da Zhou have no proper protocol for receiving visitors?”

Jun Beiyue held the rank of prince, while the rulers of the two nations held the rank of emperor — and Jun Beiyue, being the junior party by rank, should by all rights have gone down to greet them at the city gates, or at the very least come down from the tower to personally invite them up. And yet here he was, looking down on them from on high with lofty disdain — a genuine breach of etiquette.

The two groups were, in truth, no more than ten paces from the tower itself. The Western Chu emperor’s voice rang out like a bell, and at these words, a flicker of amusement crossed the Western Jing emperor’s eyes as he, too, came to a halt.