At the same time, over a dozen people leaped out from the crowd and rushed towards the prisoner cart, their speed rivaling that of the arrow.

Fearing injury, civilians immediately began to flee.

Chaos erupted suddenly.

The presiding execution official stood up in shock, shouting, “Guard the prisoner closely!”

Ling Ziyue was a major criminal. If he died on the spot, that would be the end of it. But if he were rescued, the official’s head might be at risk! Even worse, if political opponents accused him of colluding with traitors, his entire family might be in danger…

At this thought, a cold bead of sweat slid down his temple. He summoned a trusted guard and whispered, “Take men to resist. If the situation looks dire, execute Ling Ziyue on the spot! Go quickly!”

“Yes, sir!” The guard obeyed, leading over a dozen men to join the fray.

An Jiu stood up, gripping her Subduing Dragon Bow. As she turned, she suddenly sensed a familiar presence and looked up towards the rafters.

A tall figure wrapped in a black cloak, only exposing a chin covered in dark stubble.

“Come up,” he said in a low voice, dropping a rope.

Without hesitation, An Jiu grabbed it. Her body lightened as she was easily pulled up.

“What’s going on?” An Jiu asked in a hushed voice.

Chu Dingjiang knew she was asking about the chaos at the execution ground, but he didn’t answer. He simply held her and moved silently along the rafters like a ghost, exiting the building and heading straight for the southern suburbs.

Outside, the heavy snow made it almost impossible to see the path.

An Jiu faintly heard a great roar erupting from the crowd behind them, interspersed with many voices shouting that Ling Ziyue had been wronged.

The two landed steadily in the outskirts. Only then did Chu Dingjiang speak, “It’s just a struggle between princes.”

“A struggle between princes?” An Jiu couldn’t think of which other prince it could be. The Third Prince was too young to be involved. The Crown Prince… was he capable of doing something productive?

“The Second Prince secretly planned to rescue Ling Ziyue. Somehow, the Crown Prince found out. So the Crown Prince used the arrow as a ploy, causing the Second Prince’s men to panic and expose themselves early,” Chu Dingjiang explained.

An Jiu was amazed. She never imagined the Crown Prince had such depth. “Is General Ling really in the prisoner cart?”

“He was supposed to be,” Chu Dingjiang saw her interest and decided to explain everything at once. “When the Crown Prince suggested using reed mats to preserve General Ling’s final dignity, I sensed something was amiss. So I had someone replace General Ling first. Then I sent more men to help the execution officials prevent any rescue attempt.”

In short, the Great Song’s patriotic war god had to be publicly executed for all to see. As for the rest, Chu Dingjiang wouldn’t let Ling Ziyue be sacrificed easily before he had extracted every bit of usable talent from him.

“The fact that Ling Ziyue has been switched will be exposed sooner or later. So you should escape south with him to hide near Jiaozhi. Wait for me to handle things here, then I’ll come find you.” Chu Dingjiang pulled a bundle from under his cloak and stuffed it into An Jiu’s arms. “Go now. General Ling is near the long pavilion. I’ve sent people to notify Sui Yunzhu and the others. They’ll meet up later. Leave immediately.”

“Alright.” An Jiu took the bundle and ran about ten zhang before suddenly stopping.

She could no longer sense Chu Dingjiang’s presence, but she still turned back to look.

In the vast snow, he stood alone, his black cloak covering him from head to toe. His quiet presence merged with the snow, like a monument that had stood for a thousand years. Just like when she first met him. The swirling snow seemed to be blocked by an invisible force, unable to fall on him.

An Jiu ran back through the snow, crashing straight into his chest. She didn’t see that just before she collided with him, he suddenly withdrew his protective energy barrier. The snow, no longer obstructed, fell freely on his broad shoulders.

Snow crunched underfoot as Chu Dingjiang raised his hand to pull off his hood.

An Jiu rubbed her sore cheek and looked up, but could only see his chin. She frowned slightly.

As she was about to step back, Chu Dingjiang embraced her.

“I came back because I wanted to say something,” An Jiu said, her voice muffled against his chest.

“I understand,” Chu Dingjiang’s voice held a hint of amusement. “No need to say it out loud.”

It wasn’t that he knew what An Jiu wanted to say, but he guessed that no words of endearment would come from her mouth. It was better to let him imagine.

“I want to say it because I think it’s profound and heartfelt,” An Jiu insisted.

Chu Dingjiang nodded helplessly.

“The other day, I saw Mo Sigui write a sentence for Lou Mingyue,” An Jiu said.

Hearing it was written by Mo Sigui, Chu Dingjiang had an even worse premonition.

“‘In life, I shall return; in death, I’ll long for you forever,'” An Jiu recited, feeling a bit proud. “How about it? Doesn’t it suit this moment?”

“…” Chu Dingjiang rubbed the back of her head. “Don’t worry, I don’t usually die.”

He understood the sentiment behind the words and what An Jiu was trying to express, but it didn’t sound pleasant! So indeed, understanding without words was the best way to communicate with An Jiu.

“Then I’m off,” An Jiu flashed him a smile and darted away swiftly.

An Jiu wasn’t skilled in qinggong, so although her running was swift, it lacked the weightless grace of treading on waves without leaving a trace. From a distance, she looked more like a fox running through the snow.

Chu Dingjiang watched her go with a smile, his protective energy gradually enveloping him once more, keeping the snow at bay.

The snow fell heavily, already forming a thin layer on the ground in the outskirts.

As An Jiu approached the long pavilion, she saw several people and horses in the distance. Sui Yunzhu and the others, with their excellent qinggong skills, had arrived even before her.

Among them was Ling Ziyue, whom she hadn’t seen in a long time. Thick clothing wrapped his lean frame, lacking the sharp, sword-like aura he once had at the border.

“Let’s go,” Sui Yunzhu said.

They mounted their horses and galloped along the official road through the snow.

After riding for over ten li, there was no more snow. The sky was overcast here, but it wasn’t snowing.

After two days and one night of hard riding, the group finally rested at a dilapidated temple.

Sui Yunzhu lit a fire and roasted their dry rations over it, providing at least some warm food.

Li Qingzhi handed Ling Ziyue a piece of flatbread. Seeing his gloomy expression and reluctance to eat, he tried to comfort him, “General, as long as the green hills remain, one need not worry about firewood. Don’t let your health suffer.”

Ling Ziyue nodded and took a bite, but his expression didn’t improve at all.

As Li Qingzhi was about to offer more encouragement, Sui Yunzhu stopped him.

For someone like Li Qingzhi, who had hidden alone in darkness, any chance to openly fight enemies on the battlefield was worth any price. However, only when one truly reaches that point does one understand that things are not as simple as imagined.

Ling Ziyue had survived, but his wife and children had all been given a cup of poison and died in prison.

The Emperor’s “grace” allowed them to keep their bodies intact.

Though his body lived on, his heart had died!

Ling Ziyue now lacked even the strength to hate.

Sui Yunzhu looked at Ling Ziyue’s gaunt profile and sighed inwardly. Although his attack on Xijin Fu had been too hasty, it couldn’t be denied that he was the only one in the entire Great Song who could have done it. Perhaps no one else would be able to do so even in the next fifty years.

Back in Bianjing, the uproar over the disrupted execution had long since subsided. The blood-stained execution platform at Caishi Kou served as a reminder to everyone that the general hailed as a war god was no more.

The hot blood that had splattered that day seemed to scald everyone’s faces, burning unbearably.

Rumors began to spread from unknown sources that Ling Ziyue had been framed, with seemingly credible details. These rumors were like throwing fire into a pot of boiling oil, causing an explosive reaction.

For a time, public sentiment was inflamed, especially among the scholars who jointly submitted petitions.

They had done this before Ling Ziyue’s sentence was decided, but due to prejudice against military men, the emotions then were far less intense than now.

In the Great Song’s atmosphere of civil gentility and military weakness, Ling Ziyue had been an anomaly. In his early years, he studied under a teacher and participated in the imperial examinations. Although he hadn’t achieved a degree, he could still be considered a scholar. This past, when brought to light, further aroused the sympathy of the literati.

While this uproar continued, the court began to worry about two other matters—the Liao army, upon hearing of Ling Ziyue’s execution, immediately launched a large-scale attack! Additionally, apart from the snow on the day of Ling Ziyue’s execution, there had been very little precipitation this winter, which might affect next year’s harvest.

This year was destined to be tumultuous.

Winter seemed to pass in a blur of busyness. As soon as tender green buds appeared on the branches, Mo Sigui packed his bags and set out on his medical journey, taking two tigers with him.

Only Zhu Pianpian, Sheng Changying, and Lou Xiaowu remained on the island.

An Jiu and her group reached Jiaozhi in mid-February. By this time, the court had issued secret orders to arrest Ling Ziyue.

Near Jiaozhi, there were also Great Song troops stationed, but with the dense forests and swamps, it wasn’t difficult to hide.

An Jiu had considerable experience in jungle survival, so they weren’t in danger of starving.

However, Ling Ziyue became increasingly despondent in this sunless jungle.

After nearly a month of traversing the dense forest, they finally found a small clearing and saw the long-missed sunlight.

An Jiu casually took off her outer garment and hung it on a dead tree. She wore a “vest-like” top underneath, exposing her fair arms.

She was no longer as thin as before. Her figure was agile, her movements decisive and efficient. Although not bulky, it wasn’t hard to see the hidden explosive power and her near-obsessive control over her body.

“General Ling,” An Jiu walked towards Ling Ziyue with a water bag, taking a long drink before handing the rest to him.

Ling Ziyue took it and drank a mouthful.

“Willpower is the most crucial thing for survival here,” An Jiu squatted beside him, her jet-black eyes fixed on him. “In your current state, you won’t last three months.”

Ling Ziyue pressed his lips together, silent.

An Jiu, never one to mince words, said, “You still have a long life ahead, at least longer than the current emperor. You may yet have a chance to regain military power.”

The others looked over, each with different thoughts.

Mei Yanran stared at An Jiu’s bare arms with a complex expression, wishing she could wrap her up in clothing, but after a long look, she made no move.

“That’s right, General, you must stay strong!” Li Qingzhi echoed.

Sui Yunzhu, who could somewhat fathom Ling Ziyue’s thoughts, said, “General, you’ve always served under the current emperor. You understand what kind of court the Great Song has, yet you remained loyal for the sake of the country and people, not to any individual or particular court. Now that you’ve unfortunately been wronged and treated unjustly, has your heart to protect the nation changed?”