A colorful butterfly flew out from the red smoke, flapping its wings toward the sky. Under three feet of sunlight, blood flowed like rivers.

On the road out of the palace, Xie Zhaoqiu also saw a butterfly. In a daze, she followed that butterfly, wanting to know where it was going.

Her hands were empty—the night banquet painting had been handed to the Princess Imperial. She only remembered the Princess Imperial’s lips moving close before her, but she hadn’t heard a single word spoken. She knew what she was doing. Soon the Palace Guards would arrest people according to this painting. She had betrayed her father.

Father had always loved her especially.

She was obsessed with painting, which others couldn’t understand—what use were such talents for a woman? But only father supported her, never forcing her to marry, letting her follow her heart in everything. Actually, father’s attitude hadn’t been like this initially.

Father had also loved painting in his youth, though most of his works were mediocre. Only the butterflies he painted for decoration were exceptionally good, lifelike, as if about to fly right off the painting. Her talent far exceeded her father’s, yet the butterflies she painted were remarkably identical to his. Father probably saw in this small detail the miraculous power of bloodline continuation—she was his continuation and embodiment in this world. His attitude suddenly changed, and he began especially supporting her hobby.

Xie Zhaoqiu had always been proud that she could resemble her father in some small way.

The beliefs she now held—family and country, loyalty and filial piety—were all taught by her father.

In her heart, father was like heaven itself.

But she abandoned filial piety, because on the other side of the scales was a heavier weight.

Just following that ordinary butterfly, she walked on until her delicate shoe soles were nearly worn through. She was a sheltered young lady who never left her chambers—since she could remember, she seemed to have never walked so far. Yet she felt no pain, as if she too had become a butterfly dancing with the wind.

Suddenly, someone pulled her into a wooden door.

“Qiu Jie’er, what have you done?!”

Xie Zhu’s face was filled with anger. He had hidden extremely carefully and cautiously, beginning his schemes from Li Du Mansion. When neither Gusha nor Wanyan Jun knew his identity, he had taken the desperate risk of staging a ruse of self-harm, establishing his identity in an invincible position from then on. He never expected that after taking every precaution to reach today, he would be betrayed by his own daughter.

Xie Zhaoqiu looked at the father before her. Dressed in plain clothes, he seemed somewhat unfamiliar—was he planning to flee? She stared and knelt down, tears streaming silently down her face as she pleadingly grasped her father’s robe.

“Father… please stop. What have you done? Why did you harm Brother Chao’en and Sixth Sister?”

“Chao’en and Xiaoliu are both my juniors. I never wanted to harm them. But like this dynasty, they brought destruction upon themselves!”

“We are subjects of Great Yu—you could have done nothing, but why did you have to betray?”

“Qiu Jie’er, you’re confused! The Qi people are already unstoppable. If all Han officials die for their principles, who will carry forward the Han way? What I do now brings harm in the present but benefit for a thousand years!”

Xie Zhaoqiu was stunned. So this was her father’s faith?

Was the Way more important, or principles?

“I don’t blame you for reporting to the palace. I only blame myself for keeping it from you too long, making it hard for you to accept momentarily. You’ll understand gradually later. Jinling is no longer safe—come with me to Bianjing.”

Xie Zhu raised his leg to leave, but Xie Zhaoqiu hugged his leg, stopping his steps.

“Father, you can’t just walk away!”

Xie Zhu urgently tried to raise his leg and break free.

“Brother Chao’en is still in dire straits—you must go clear his name!”

Xie Zhu looked down at Xie Zhaoqiu with a strange expression: “Qiu Jie’er, don’t do pointless things.”

“Sixth Sister’s death was indirectly caused by you. If Brother Chao’en is also harmed by your frame-up, can you be so at peace? How will you sleep peacefully for the rest of your life?!”

Xie Zhu sighed: “Chao’en and I serve different masters—we’ve long been enemies. Moreover… it’s too late.”

He had already silently drawn a prepared handkerchief from his hand and, taking advantage of Qiu Jie’er’s unpreparedness, covered her mouth.

“On the great Way, sacrifice is inevitable. Don’t blame father for being heartless.”

Qiu Jie’er heard her father say this.

She didn’t struggle. She only widened her eyes, watching the circling butterfly fly into the eaves and disappear before losing consciousness.

This was a butterfly that flew into history books. That hastily painted night banquet painting let posterity know the names and faces of eight traitors, calling them the “Eight Traitors of Jiaxu.” On this day they either fled or were captured, and regardless of their current fate, they were already forever nailed to history’s pillar of shame.

Li Du Mansion had been without food for three days. Xieyang Valley had fallen.

The Qi army attacked the city with heavy forces, coming fiercely. Giant logs violently struck the city gates, scaling ladders were set against the walls, and flaming arrows even shot into civilian homes within the city.

At this moment of life and death, the Yu Dynasty’s military and civilians resisted desperately. By the dawn of the fourth day, court reinforcements suddenly arrived. Morale within the city soared, war drums thundered, and the two armies battled beneath the city walls with neither gaining clear advantage.

The Qi army had been besieging for days and their soldiers were all exhausted, wanting to retreat and regroup to fight another day. Unexpectedly, their main camp at Luoyang Town was suddenly ambushed by hidden soldiers who set fires and burned the camp. The Qi people thought their rear escape route was cut off—trapped front and back like turtles in a jar, unable to attend to both sides, they threw their own formations into chaos and finally collapsed completely.

The Yu Dynasty army pursued the victory, annihilating tens of thousands of enemies along the way. Only about a thousand cavalry escorted the commander to break through the encirclement. Han Xianwang barely escaped with his life, fleeing north.

Li Du Mansion achieved great victory.

When Nanyi returned to the city with the scout camp, it was already evening. Though the city was scarred from days of siege warfare, at first glance the walls were planted full with flags symbolizing victory, which couldn’t help but inspire.

This battle was the most satisfying victory for the Yu Dynasty after consecutively losing northern territories and retreating steadily. The Qi army suffered heavy losses—they wouldn’t invade again for at least a year.

Peace won on the battlefield was peace without further worries. The people could finally depend on the new dynasty to breathe together and recuperate.

Nanyi had long been eager to return home.

She wanted to proudly tell Xie Queshan how valiant and skilled in battle she and the scout camp had been, playing the Qi soldiers for fools. She hadn’t disappointed his trust at all.

His desperate defense of the city must have also been with all his strength—she wondered if he was injured.

The reinforcements had come, the Qi people had been driven away. Now he could finally be cleared of charges and become Li Du Mansion’s great hero with dignity, right?

Thinking of this, an indescribable joy rose in her heart.

She missed him so much.

In every day and night shuttling through the forest, in every moment of brave trail-blazing, in every fight where she thrust her sword through enemies, she would think of him.

She knew they were always fighting together.

Nanyi’s steps became light and quick. She began to run, not wanting to delay even a moment, wanting to immediately share this moment’s joy with Xie Queshan.

But just passing through the city gate, she was surrounded so tightly by enthusiastic citizens that water couldn’t flow through. In the cheering, Nanyi was also tossed high up. Countless unfamiliar hands lifted her up and caught her. This feeling was wonderful—in mid-air she saw the endless crowds, those simple smiles and shouts covering heaven and earth.

How wonderful—she had also become part of the heroes.

In the distance, huge fireworks illuminated the twilight sky.

Nanyi was tossed up again. In that instant at the heights, she excitedly looked around and saw beyond the crowd to the city wall. At the base of the damaged wall there seemed to be a small portrait—it was a figure drawn on an official notice.

Even though she was so far away and had only glimpsed it, seeing nothing clearly yet, as if by some premonition, all of Nanyi’s happiness was instantly plundered by overwhelming unease.

She frantically pushed through the enthusiastic citizens, trying to squeeze against the crowd toward the notice wall. But the crowd surged like uncontrollable tides, making her advance three steps and retreat two.

This distance of five or six zhang took a long time to squeeze through.

But every time she cast her gaze through the bobbing heads, she saw a few more characters on the notices. Bit by bit, the truth about him was carved on her body like slow slicing.

“The traitor Xie Queshan, for personal gain, defected to the enemy and betrayed the country, abandoning his homeland to danger. Fortunately his crimes were exposed and great disaster temporarily stopped. This person’s crimes cannot be pardoned. Now reported to the court, imperial command received, the punishment of being torn apart by five horses shall be carried out to comfort the world and calm the people’s anger.”

Below was stamped the bright red great seal of Li Du Mansion’s prefectural office.

Stated with certainty, as if factual.

Nanyi suddenly rushed forward to tear down the notice, ripping it clean.

“Nonsense! Complete nonsense!” Her eyes turned blood-red like a crazed wild beast, roaring at the vast sea of people. “He’s not a traitor! Where is he imprisoned?!”

“He was executed days ago, torn apart by five horses in the street.” Some busybody nearby looked at Nanyi strangely.

“Right, if they hadn’t captured and executed him, destroying the Qi people’s conspiracy, how could reinforcements have come? The court said he was a rebel, so he definitely was!”

“Shut up!” Nanyi suddenly drew her sword, the bright blade pointing at the speaker. She wished she could make all these hateful voices disappear, yet clearly just moments before they had celebrated victory together. For an instant she was back on the battlefield—everywhere she looked were enemies.

The killing aura rising from her entire being startled the citizens, who looked at Nanyi like a madwoman and fearfully retreated.

“He’s not a traitor—anyone who says another word and I’ll cut out their tongue!”

Nanyi walked out carrying her sword. The crowd automatically cleared a path for her as countless curious, contemptuous, or fearful gazes fell upon her.

Impossible. He couldn’t be dead.

The Qi people hadn’t been able to kill him—how could he die at the hands of his own countrymen?

This must be a delaying tactic.

She didn’t believe it.

Nanyi seized a horse and rode desperately toward the military camp, the victorious fireworks following like shadows in the night sky behind her, but now seeming like enormous mockery.

Wind permeated with the smell of blood pierced through her body—it was the wind of death blowing from Xieyang Valley, the echo rising above mountains of corpses and seas of fire. She seemed to see cunning time shooting an arrow at her heart, while she still tried to turn the tide before the arrow reached its target.

She burst into Song Muchuan’s commander’s tent.

Song Muchuan sat there with neither sorrow nor joy on his face, as if he had long been waiting for her.

“Where is he?”

Nanyi expected him to answer something. They had switched him out—the one who died wasn’t Xie Queshan. This was for show to the people. He was still alive and well somewhere in this world, just inconvenient to meet her openly right now. This was the last strength supporting her to stand.

Song Muchuan didn’t answer. The long silence was already the answer.

That arrow had been destined to arrive from the moment it was shot. Her laughable struggle was just momentary escape.

She remembered—on that notice, only Song Muchuan had the authority to stamp the great seal representing Li Du Mansion’s government office, indicating he knew about everything and participated in everything.

“I’ll kill you.”

From beginning to end, there was no expression on her face. When people are in extreme grief they abandon control over their bodies. She had only fragmented instincts—she wanted to avenge him.

The sword tip she thrust toward Song Muchuan carried suspended hopelessness and the determination to perish together.