Xu Kouyue had originally been staying safely at their stronghold, but when she heard that Liangda and Ninth Lady had received orders to stop Wanyan Jun before sunset no matter what, unease stirred in her heart.

To intercept Wanyan Jun would probably not be an easy task. If it truly came to blows, some comrades would inevitably be sacrificed.

Xu Kouyue thought that she might have some more cunning advantages.

While Liangda and Ninth Lady were out, she deliberately put herself in Wanyan Jun’s path.

She knew all too well how to make him angry—he would certainly stop for her. From how he had insisted against all opposition, taking enormous risks to bring her out of the laundry quarters, yet after rescuing her, he had trampled and ravaged her dignity without restraint, in her immense pain she had long ago perceived the man’s excessive possessiveness. He loved her.

He thought he could handle everything with ease, but she had long since taken in all his weaknesses.

She simply hadn’t had the opportunity, she simply wasn’t strong enough, so she had learned to bend to his will, learned to say one thing while meaning another. She had been lying dormant all along.

At this moment she finally delivered this blade. She couldn’t remember how many times in her moments of mental confusion she had fantasized about this scene. She had done what she had always wanted to do but could never do.

She hated him to death.

“You—” Wanyan Jun’s eye sockets rapidly filled with blood, his features contorting grotesquely from pain. Anger and regret flooded his dying consciousness—he hadn’t expected it would be her.

“I treated you well!”

He had clearly given her what little mercy he possessed! How could she!

This spineless woman was actually an ungrateful viper.

“It was you who taught me to repay kindness with resentment,” Xu Kouyue said numbly, watching him as she pushed the dagger in her hand another inch deeper.

Wanyan Jun coughed up great mouthfuls of blood. Using his last bit of strength, he gripped Xu Kouyue’s hand tightly.

“You also… don’t think… of living… together…”

Wanyan Jun crashed to the ground with a thunderous sound as soldiers cried out in alarm and surrounded them.

Xu Kouyue calmly closed her eyes, waiting for vengeful blades to fall upon her, but instead heard a sharp clang—the harsh sound of weapons clashing reached her ears. The expected pain didn’t come; instead, someone pulled her to her feet.

“Go.”

Xu Kouyue looked around in bewilderment—it was actually Song Muchuan who had arrived with his men.

The two groups battled in the courtyard as Song Muchuan protected Xu Kouyue’s escape. Only then did she realize she was trembling badly, stumbling after just a few steps.

All these changes happened so quickly it was as if they had never occurred, with only the blood covering her hands reminding her of what she had just done. Human courage far exceeds the limits one can imagine—perhaps it’s a trace of divine power left in flesh when Nüwa created humans, enabling people to become jade-cutting stones in an instant. But after that momentary supernatural ability, humans return to being those weak and ordinary bodies.

Song Muchuan stopped and asked with concern, “Can you still walk?”

Xu Kouyue didn’t want to hold them back, but she was truly somewhat exhausted.

Without another word, Song Muchuan crouched down and directly carried her on his back as they ran out.

Xu Kouyue lay against the man’s broad back. This angle, slightly higher than usual, made her feel somewhat dazed. She had thought she stood on a solitary island in a raging sea, but it turned out to be merely a piece of land submerged by high tide. When the tide receded, land still connected to land.

She looked toward the horizon where the sky was neither light nor dark.

In the distance by the riverbank, there seemed to be a row of massive objects flowing downstream.

She said in wonder, as if in a dream, “The dragon bone ships have launched…”

Song Muchuan’s steps suddenly stopped.

“What did you say?!”

All the Qi soldiers had already boarded the ships. Xie Queshan hadn’t waited for Song Muchuan to bring people aboard but had directly ordered the helmsman to take the ships onto the river. Each ship should have had death warriors to light the fuses, but the situation had changed—there was no time to implement the original plan. He arranged for the largest main ship to be in the center of the fleet, surrounded by ships front and back, so that when this main ship exploded, the aftershock could affect the surrounding vessels.

He would detonate the gunpowder himself.

The mixture of saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal powder had long been filled into the hollow bamboo joints used in shipbuilding. From the outside, no trace could be detected. The entire ship was a huge and ingenious powder keg.

Song Muchuan was a craftsman of unparalleled genius.

He had originally prepared to perish together with his masterpiece, but someone had taken his place.

Song Muchuan finally realized belatedly what had happened and rushed toward the riverbank like a madman.

The dragon bone ships were flowing downstream, getting farther and farther from Li Du Mansion.

“Xie Chao’en—Xie Chao’en!”

Song Muchuan futilely shouted toward that ship, but his calls were quickly drowned by the vast river waters.

He had deceived everyone again.

…

Xie Queshan entered the armory inside the ship’s cabin. He had seen Song Muchuan’s blueprints and knew that the place to detonate the gunpowder was here. When Song Muchuan designed it, he had left opportunities for escape—the time for all the fuses to burn out was about the length of a tea brewing. If there were people outside to assist, one could leave after lighting them.

If everything had proceeded according to the original plan, with a grand ceremony being held on the ship, one person more or less wouldn’t have drawn attention. But now with the entire army on alert, Xie Queshan was the supreme commander on this ship, and his presence was noticed by everyone’s gaze.

Therefore, he hadn’t prepared an escape route for himself. The number of Qi soldiers on the ship was overwhelming—once any irregularities were discovered, everything would be lost.

Xie Queshan claimed he wanted to inspect the weapons and had people guard outside. He walked alone into the storeroom and took down a candlestick from the wall.

Firelight danced in his pupils as he walked step by step deeper inside.

His slightly trembling hands betrayed the turbulence in his heart.

Actually, he didn’t necessarily have a death wish. He loved some people in this world, and he knew those people loved him too. If he died, there would be nothing left.

It’s just that love, hate, anger, and obsession were all like a millet dream—his hands remained empty. If everything ended here, perhaps it could give everyone a fresh start.

The flame slowly approached the fuse. Sparks crackled as they caught fire, and the fuse lying dormant on the ground suddenly came alive, winding its way toward the depths on its own.

But in this moment, he thought of Nanyi with almost crazed reluctance. He hadn’t anticipated that those extinguished thoughts of staying together would rekindle from dead embers.

In the instant before death, his memories were filled entirely with her voice and smile. One who loves desires is like holding a torch against the wind—one must suffer burns. He was still in the human world, yet at this moment he felt as if burning in a sea of fire, with endless pain boiling in his heart.

He had even deceived himself. Actually, he too very much wanted to grow old together with her, but at this moment, he had no chance to turn back.

That faint glimmer of fire was like his lifeline, illuminating his past like a galloping horse viewing flowers.

Suddenly, there was a tremendous noise. Xie Queshan startled—had the time come faster than he’d imagined? He closed his eyes but didn’t experience the expected destruction. After just an instant, the sounds began coming one after another, and commotion arose outside. This wasn’t an explosion.

He hurriedly pushed open the window to look in the direction of the sound—someone was setting off enormous fireworks on the river.

People rarely saw such brilliant fireworks and were all attracted by these silver trees and golden flowers. Some were vigilant, some panicked, and others stopped to watch, creating chaos on the deck.

Xie Queshan realized something was wrong and was about to go outside when he saw the two guards at the door silently collapse.

Someone wearing Qi soldier’s clothing, using a sword scabbard as a crutch, limped closer—this familiar yet detestable face was Zhang Yuehui, wasn’t it?

How could he appear here, walking into a trap? Under these absurd circumstances, Xie Queshan thought about it and found it somewhat reasonable—besides him, no one else could afford to set off such extravagant fireworks.

Zhang Yuehui saw Xie Queshan and tilted his head: “It’s yours now.”

Xie Queshan smoothly struck, eliminating the tail that had followed Zhang Yuehui.

“How did you get here?”

Zhang Yuehui surveyed the armory: “Just you alone?”

Xie Queshan didn’t understand what Zhang Yuehui meant by this and asked back in bewilderment, “What else?”

Zhang Yuehui pointed at the fuse: “How long until it explodes?”

“One tea brewing’s time.”

Zhang Yuehui spat: “Poor scholar, would adding more fuse kill him from stinginess?”

“Did you set off the fireworks? What are you trying to do?” Xie Queshan didn’t consider Zhang Yuehui an enemy, but his appearance was truly confusing, so he fired questions at him.

“Come here, I’ll tell you.” Zhang Yuehui stood by the window and beckoned to Xie Queshan.

Xie Queshan didn’t think much of it and walked over.

“Down you go.” Zhang Yuehui suddenly pushed Xie Queshan, shoving his entire body out of the cabin.

With a splash, he fell directly into the water. Just then a burst of fireworks exploded, and the tremendous sound in the sky masked the commotion here.

Zhang Yuehui removed his heavy armor and, sticking his bottom up, climbed onto the ship’s rail with difficulty before jumping down himself.

The river surface looked calm, but inside were surging currents, pushing them wave by wave in the opposite direction.

“Where’s the raft?” Xie Queshan struggled to maintain his position on the water’s surface.

“Who’s going to prepare a raft for you? Do you think I’m the Jade Emperor?” Zhang Yuehui cursed. “Of course we swim back!”

“Sick, insisting on a more troublesome way to die.” Xie Queshan cursed back, but still didn’t give up this thread of hope for life. He swam forward, noticing Zhang Yuehui’s leg difficulties and unobtrusively grabbed his clothes, dragging him along.

Fireworks illuminated the river surface. Through the flickering shadows, they could see on the black water surface an unremarkable raft approaching at surprising speed.

Song Muchuan desperately raced toward that dead zone. He knew this was very slim hope, but he had to do something. He couldn’t let Xie Queshan die alone up there.

Just as he was frantically paddling, he suddenly felt the raft being grabbed by some force. He looked back warily and saw a person clinging to the raft’s edge.

“Scholar, you’re somewhat useful after all.”

Zhang Yuehui climbed onto the raft panting, probably because his leg couldn’t exert force properly. Someone in the water had given him a boost, and then that person also emerged from the water.

Song Muchuan had never been good at containing his emotions. The moment he saw Xie Queshan, two streams of clear tears ran down his stunned face.

Heaven knew how many scenes of life and death had flashed through his mind in that brief time.

“What are you staring at? Hurry up and paddle.”

The raft had just reached shore, and people hadn’t yet had time to disembark when tremendous explosion sounds came from behind. After one blast, a chain of explosions followed, deafening.

Fireworks in the sky, flames on the water.

The flames of death rose on the river—these were the flames of phoenix nirvana, the last thread of hope for a crumbling dynasty. The alchemical arts that countless emperors throughout history had been obsessed with had accidentally created gunpowder. The ancestors probably never imagined that they would ultimately become dust, yet their obsession with immortality had unexpectedly granted their descendants such devastating power. In the equal slaughter of flesh against flesh, the weak side had for the first time completely reversed life and death, strength and weakness.

The explosion’s shockwaves reached the shore, raising huge waves that knocked all three men back into the water.

They lay exhausted on the bank, lacking even the strength to watch the explosion on the river, letting the river water wash over their bodies.

The thunderous roar continued, and after an unknown amount of time, it finally quieted. This seemingly impossible task, through the relay of countless lives, had finally passed its power into their hands. They had succeeded.

This great river flowing endlessly eastward had witnessed tonight’s life and death, rise and fall. The land nourished by these river waters would welcome a true sunrise.

And these three men, in circumstances they had never imagined, briefly stood on the same battle line.

“Where’s Nanyi?” Zhang Yuehui asked breathlessly, still looking at Xie Queshan with some resentment.

“I want to ask you the same thing,” Xie Queshan asked strangely and anxiously.

He somewhat realized that Zhang Yuehui’s appearance here today was for Nanyi’s sake. He had thought Nanyi was with him and had just incidentally saved him?

But he didn’t know where Nanyi was.

Zhang Yuehui looked at Song Muchuan: “Did you see her?”

Song Muchuan shook his head in confusion.

“This is bad.” Zhang Yuehui’s expression changed as he struggled to get up from the ground.

He had steeled his heart to go to Shu by himself and never mind others’ affairs again, but after traveling for barely an hour, he frantically ordered Luo Ci to turn back.

He was truly worthless—he had finally understood himself. He was just duplicitous and born to toil.

He had searched all along the way, only finding Yajiu’s corpse on the road without seeing Nanyi. He thought Nanyi had returned to Li Du Mansion to find Xie Queshan, so he had rushed back at top speed.

But obviously none of the people at Li Du Mansion had seen her either. So where could she be?

At this time, Nanyi had just reached the gates of Li Du Mansion. She was in tattered clothes, covered in blood and filth, looking exactly like a wild person who had come out of the mountains.

After killing Yajiu, she had been completely exhausted and had found a nearby cave where she had slept through day and night. Only after waking up did she walk toward Li Du Mansion, perfectly missing Zhang Yuehui.

“Nanyi!”

Xie Queshan arrived on horseback. Seeing that small figure, he desperately dismounted and ran toward her. Zhang Yuehui followed closely behind, shamelessly using his crutch to trip Xie Queshan.

Just as these two men were racing toward Nanyi, a figure suddenly pounced over and hugged Nanyi tightly.

“Sister-in-law!”

Xie Sui’an’s loud crying echoed through the city gate: “Wuuu, sister-in-law, how did you become like this!”

“Umm… Little Six… can’t breathe…” Nanyi was nearly suffocated by Xie Sui’an’s embrace.

Xie Sui’an loosened his grip on Nanyi with tears and snot streaming down his face, then broke into smiles through his tears after a moment.

“Thank goodness, you’re all alive.”