Deep courtyards with ornate windows casting flower shadows, a cup of tea, a scroll of books, accompanied by the sound of a qin—this would surely be an elegant affair. However, if one were to suddenly hear the sound of a qin on a battlefield, it would undoubtedly feel eerie.

At this moment, in the northern frontier, Northern Dynasty cavalry had completely surrounded the Southern Dynasty’s Niangzi Pass. Northern Dynasty soldiers were beating drums and calling for battle, utterly arrogant and rampant.

Suddenly, a melodious qin melody rose, ethereal as if drifting from the heavens.

This was an ancient tune, mingling with the resounding war drums, yet it was exceptionally graceful and flowing, lingering and tender, deeply stirring the heart.

The clamoring Northern army suddenly quieted, ceasing their drumming. Looking up, they saw that at some point, a brilliant red figure had appeared atop the walls of Niangzi Pass. On the battlefield, the red color the Northern army saw most was blood, nothing but blood—they had never seen red clothing.

This suddenly appearing woman in red made the Northern army’s hearts tremble, all thinking of one person.

The Southern Dynasty had recently achieved great victory over Western Liang’s forces in the western frontier, all relying on Marquis Pingxi Hua Mu who guarded the western border. It was said that under Hua Mu’s command was a famous general named Ying Shuxie, who possessed exceptional martial skills and unparalleled strategy. The Southern Dynasty’s crushing defeat of Western Liang was largely due to his contributions.

Legend had it that Ying Shuxie was an orphan, originally nameless and without family. He chose the surname Ying for himself, meaning that he must win every battle. Indeed, from the time he joined the army until now, he had never lost. In just two short years, he had risen from an unknown soldier to become the young general of the western frontier whose name struck terror into hearts. Enemy forces gave him the nickname “Yinmian Xiuluo” (Silver-Faced Asura). Under his command was a troop of orphan soldiers who fought fiercely, called “Sha Polang” (Kill the Greedy Wolf).

Legend said he always wore a mask over his face, and no one had ever seen his true appearance, so there were many rumors about his looks. Some said he was more beautiful than a woman, and General Hua Mu ordered him to cover his face with a mask to prevent that bewitching countenance from disturbing military morale. Others said he was too hideous and had no choice but to conceal himself with a mask.

The reason the Northern army thought of him upon hearing the qin music was because a woman in red followed him, and every time he went to battle, she would play the qin for him.

Now, with this qin music and red clothing appearing at Niangzi Pass, could it be that Ying Shuxie had come from the western frontier to the northern border?

The Northern army was all alarmed, yet also somewhat curious.

The qin melody was gentle as water, extremely tender, like a maiden’s lingering thoughts in her boudoir, making listeners feel pleasantly intoxicated.

The Northern army’s leader Zhang Xi gazed at that splash of red atop the city walls, a cold smile spreading across his lips. He reached behind his back to draw his bow and arrow, nocking an arrow. The arrow shaft carried a chilling killing intent as it flew straight toward the red-clad woman on the city walls.

Over a thousand Northern soldiers all waited for the screams that should follow, because their leader’s archery had always been precise—he had never missed. If he wanted to shoot an enemy’s forehead, he would never hit the chin. This time, he aimed for the throat—that qin-playing woman was surely doomed.

However, the expected screams never came. They saw a flash of white light atop the city walls, and the arrow was struck by something unknown, deflecting its course to embed in the battlements.

After a moment, a soldier pointed toward the pass gate and shouted: “Everyone look!”

They saw the gates of Niangzi Pass slowly opening, and a squadron of heavily armored cavalry came surging out from within. The leading soldier held a banner embroidered with a large character “Ying.”

Then they saw a rider on a white horse galloping out from the city. Mounted was a young general in silver armor and white robes, wearing a helmet, with a Tianya Mingyue saber at his waist and a silver spear hanging from his saddle. The brilliant glow of the setting sun shone upon him, the spear tip gleaming in the sunlight. Accompanied by the sound of hoofbeats, he carved a silver trail across the ground, arriving at the front lines in an instant. Only when he reached thirty paces from the Northern army did he suddenly rein in his warhorse. The horse gave a long neigh and stood motionless before the battle formation.

The white-robed young general on horseback gazed at the Northern army, half his alluring face covered by a silver mask, revealing only clear eyes, beautiful lips, an exquisitely perfect jawline, and the lazy smile slowly spreading at the corners of his mouth.

Northern army leader Zhang Xi was somewhat stunned. In his twenty-plus years of life experience, he had never seen such a magnificent youth. Though he could not see the full face, that seemingly innate otherworldly and independent bearing was unforgettable at first sight.

He sat leisurely on his horse with an upright posture, his dark pupils bright beneath the mask. Looking at everyone, he cupped his fists and smiled, saying: “General Zhang, Shuxie has come to experience the General’s spear techniques.” His light voice drifted through the cold, harsh wind of the northern frontier, clear as an unpolluted mountain spring.

The qin music from the city walls suddenly soared high with the white-robed young general’s smile, shifting from gentle melody to surging passion.

Zhang Xi suddenly snapped back to awareness, said “Pardon the offense,” grasped his long spear, spurred his horse forward, and the two began fighting.

This was clearly not an evenly matched duel—the disparity in their abilities was vast. After just two exchanges, Zhang Xi was secretly alarmed. He knew that within ten moves, he would undoubtedly be defeated. However, for some unknown reason, his opponent seemed in no hurry to achieve victory. Each time the spear tip was about to pierce him, it would imperceptibly veer aside. To onlookers, it seemed he was dodging quickly while his opponent struck slowly. But in his heart, he understood that if Ying Shuxie were truly inferior, he wouldn’t calculate so precisely, always slowing by just half a beat, deflecting by just a hair’s breadth.

Zhang Xi struggled to hold on, exchanging over fifty moves with Ying Shuxie, sweat gradually beading on his forehead. Amid the flashing spear shadows, he vaguely saw the silver-armored, white-robed youth smile slightly. That smile seemed mocking, seemed arrogant, seemed disdainful… carrying an indescribable magical power, as if everything was within his control.

Zhang Xi’s heart trembled. Their Northern Dynasty currently lacked the strength for southern invasion. This challenge was originally intended to force the Niangzi Pass garrison to provide grain and money for winter supplies. Every previous time had succeeded, because the Niangzi Pass commander was a coward who feared death, and each time before any fighting began, he would obediently send over grain and money. Originally planning to plunder almost everything before switching to another city, they never expected to encounter Ying Shuxie on this final attempt.

Clearly he had achieved great victory in the western frontier and should now be returning to the capital for rewards, so why had he appeared here? He couldn’t understand it—he could only say his luck was terrible. Now he was like a mouse being toyed with by a cat—was he destined to die here? Unwilling to accept this, he fought desperately. After once again dodging his opponent’s spear tip, in the instant their horses crossed paths, he suddenly drew his precious sword and thrust it viciously.

With this sword thrust, he actually held no hope of success, yet unexpectedly, it struck true.

That white-clothed, silver-armored general clutched his chest, his handsome eyes flashing with a complex expression he couldn’t fathom—as if in extreme pain, yet seemingly not. Fresh blood flowed from his chest down his slender fingers, staining his snow-white battle robes red.

The qin music from the city walls suddenly sounded like tearing silk, piercing straight to the heart, mournful as rain on Ba Mountain at night, inexplicably stirring feelings of desolation and loneliness. Suddenly there was a snapping sound, as if qin strings had broken, and the music was heard no more.

Zhang Xi’s heart jumped with shock, somewhat disbelieving. For a moment he forgot to pursue, watching helplessly as the Southern army rescued Ying Shuxie and retreated. Though he had severely wounded the commander, Zhang Xi led his troops in hasty retreat. After galloping for a long time and seeing no pursuit, he finally reined in his horse and looked back. The Southern army had long since withdrawn into the pass.

Only the towering walls of Niangzi Pass stood firm in the setting sun, radiating a desolate yet magnificent beauty. Atop the city walls, the vast sky seemed set ablaze by the setting sun, displaying brilliant and varied colors that dazzled the eyes.

“General, you clearly wounded their commander, so why are we still fleeing? Why didn’t we take the opportunity to capture that Ying Shuxie and extort some wealth?” a soldier asked carefully.

“What do you know?!” Zhang Xi said coldly.

He didn’t believe that sword thrust had truly struck Ying Shuxie. He could have dodged that sword, should have dodged it, surely could have dodged it.

However, the next day, spies from within the pass brought news that Ying Shuxie had died in the night from his severe wounds.

It was said that the Southern Dynasty Emperor had originally planned to promote Ying Shuxie to General of the Western Pacification, and even intended to arrange a marriage, wedding Third Princess to him. Originally destined for meteoric rise and wealth and honor, who could have predicted that on his way back to the capital, he would take a detour through the northern frontier and meet his end there.

This truly fulfilled the folk saying: “Destined to endure hardship, not destined to enjoy fortune.”