“Who is Magistrate Wei?” Compared to Yao Yangyu and the others’ joyful surprise, Feng Zhiwei on horseback appeared bewildered.

Yao Yangyu and the others felt as if a basin of ice water had been poured over them, immediately snapping out of their tremendous excitement. They looked at each other, carefully examining her by moonlight, confirming this was indeed Wei Zhi. Moreover, Lord Gu, who had disappeared together with Lord Wei, was also present—just as sky-water blue robes were Gu Nanyi’s signature, Gu Nanyi was also Wei Zhi’s signature.

After a long moment, Yao Yangyu seemed to understand, tentatively asking: “Magistrate Wei, have you forgotten past events? Then how did you appear here?”

Feng Zhiwei raised her brows with a smile. “Are you all acquaintances of mine? I’ve forgotten much of the past. Since we’ve met by fate, I may have to consult you later. But right now there are more urgent matters—is this Prince An? Long admired, long admired. Delighted to meet you.”

Jin Siyu mounted a horse led over by his subordinates, frowning as he observed the composed youth opposite. The battlefield was perilous—few people could be so leisurely at ease in such circumstances. Behind him, shadowy figures and horses were concealed behind the mountain walls, impossible to determine how many there were, or how many cavalry versus infantry.

From the moment Yao Yangyu led troops to suppress bandits, he had guessed from Yao Yangyu’s marching route that his target was Qi County, so he immediately used Qi County as bait, leaving camp at night to intercept. To avoid alarming the Tiansheng main camp, he hadn’t brought many people, not even disturbing the nearby Qiao County garrison. He had calculated that the young and hot-blooded Yao Yangyu would surely pursue to Qianjin Ravine, planning only to capture him and immediately return to camp. He hadn’t expected this person to suddenly appear.

Qianjin Ravine’s terrain was special—gradually widening from west to east. The western side had many mountain walls blocking the way, which prevented the other side from charging smoothly but also prevented him from determining their military strength. If he rashly opened battle, the consequences were unknown.

Looking again at the other party’s calm and composed bearing, a warning suddenly flashed through his heart.

The timing of the other party’s appearance was too strange.

Neither early nor late, but appearing just as the hostages were about to fall into his hands—so coincidentally appearing at that moment when he was distracted during Yao Yangyu and the others’ suicide attempt. One strike had nearly taken his life, not only rescuing the hostages but also stealing his horse.

Was it coincidence, or intentional waiting for that opportunity?

If it was coincidence, that was one thing. But if it was intentional waiting, then this person was terrifying—clearly Yao Yangyu and the others had good relations with him, yet he could wait until they were at the end of their rope, forced to suicide and luring him out of formation, before making his move.

Jin Siyu looked across. That person smiled leisurely, but his own horse had already been taken somewhere unknown.

A restlessness vaguely rose in his heart—this was the first time he’d experienced such emotion since executing a general and appointing himself commander.

The reason was simple—this horse was too important.

Deaths and injuries of warhorses on battlefields were common, but what he rode was no ordinary warhorse. It was a world-renowned supreme Yue horse, a peerless divine steed that even Tiansheng couldn’t obtain despite offering great wealth. Every Great Yue prince was imperially granted one of the finest Yue horses, carefully fed from youth, extensively trained, developing powerful rapport with its master through tremendous devotion—an irreplaceable companion, worth more than a thousand gold pieces.

All Great Yue’s military and civilians knew these Yue horses possessed both endurance and speed, plus remarkable intelligence. On the battlefield, such a horse could save one’s life at the most critical moment. Often these horses that communed spiritually with their masters were more useful than a hundred guards.

Years ago, he had used a supreme Yue horse to incite suspicion between Tiansheng’s imperial father and son, leading to the forced rebellion of Tiansheng Emperor’s third son, who died at Wangdu Bridge in the Imperial Capital. Now, ten years later, feng shui had turned—his horse had fallen into another’s hands. Though clearly coincidence and no major matter, somehow an ominous premonition arose in his heart.

Moreover, dying in battle would be one thing, but to have it stolen—and while ambushing and raiding the other party, stolen before both armies—if this got back, he would truly lose all face.

What’s more, the other party hadn’t even loosed an arrow…

Jin Siyu’s eyes flickered, killing intent surging in their depths. No matter what, today could not end like this!

He raised his arm, about to give orders, when suddenly hoofbeats came from behind.

A messenger rode up with disheveled hair, charging from the rear while forcefully spurring his horse and shouting: “Commander! Trouble! The Eastern Route Army camp’s grain—”

*Swish!*

The voice stopped abruptly. That soldier who had ridden a hundred li with single-minded purpose to report stared wide-eyed, gazing blankly at Jin Siyu mounted high above, looking down at him grimly.

Then he clutched his throat and slowly collapsed, a blood-dripping throwing arrow between his fingers.

The corpse fell from the horse with a heavy *thud* that sounded hollow and prolonged. Jin Siyu slowly surveyed his surroundings. All the officers and soldiers who had heard that sentence and witnessed that scene turned pale upon meeting his gaze, then coldly turned their heads away, indicating they had heard nothing, seen nothing.

Opposite, a faint smile flickered in Feng Zhiwei’s eyes.

This prince—what quick reactions.

Before the sentence was even finished, he already knew the Eastern Route Army camp’s grain stores had been burned and immediately killed to silence the messenger, preventing military morale from wavering.

Firelight flickered faintly. The deep black cliff walls crouched like dark shadows on the sides. Half of Jin Siyu’s face was hidden in shadow, his expression unclear. He suddenly raised his riding crop, pointing it from afar at Feng Zhiwei.

His arm straight as a line, the crop like a venomous snake, fixed on the youth in soft armor and thin robes.

Feng Zhiwei smiled, making a “please yourself” gesture to him.

Jin Siyu glared at her fiercely once more, then abruptly lowered his crop, kicked his horse’s belly, turned and departed.

Figures flashed rapidly on the mountain walls. The Great Yue cavalry’s rear became the vanguard, orderly and organized, silently withdrawing.

Feng Zhiwei narrowed her eyes watching the other side’s stable and orderly retreat, her gaze carrying some admiration. Commanding talent wasn’t only about troop formations—it was even more evident during retreats. At such moments most prone to panic and chaos, being able to completely control the army and lead them away in good order itself proved the commander’s control over subordinates.

As Great Yue withdrew, Zong Chen stepped forward from behind Feng Zhiwei to treat Yao Yangyu and the other two’s wounds. Yao Yangyu silently watched the battlefield ahead—his hundred personal guards, all dead.

Walking slowly and unsteadily through the corpse piles, continuously straightening and arranging the grotesquely dead bodies, Yao Yangyu’s expression was mournful. Behind him, moonlight spilled across wild grass, grass tips full of vivid blood.

Feng Zhiwei didn’t dismount, sitting high on her horse from afar, quietly watching his back.

Yu Liang and Huang Baozi silently followed Yao Yangyu. After a long moment they tried to pull him away. “Yangyu…”

“They didn’t need to die.” Yao Yangyu suddenly spoke hoarsely.

Yu Liang thought Yao Yangyu meant his reckless pursuit for merit had led to his guards’ deaths and was about to console him, but heard Yao Yangyu say quietly: “Lord Wei should have come earlier, but waited until we were committing suicide… before acting.”

Yu Liang froze, then immediately understood his meaning. In an instant, his hair stood on end and he whirled around to look at Feng Zhiwei.

In the moonlight before the mountain wall, that person’s robes fluttered. The gaze watching over a hundred corpses was fixed and unwavering—such calm eyes made one doubt Yao Yangyu’s suspicion, wondering if it was a petty person’s heart.

“It can’t be…” He was still murmuring to himself. In his impression, Lord Wei had unique character yet was approachable and easy-going—would he face the deaths of over a hundred lives with indifferent apathy?

But Yao Yangyu had already turned around.

“You were already here, weren’t you?” His voice was hoarse, waving his arms. “You followed us from when we started suppressing bandits, didn’t you? You waited for us to be ambushed by Great Yue, then you ambushed Great Yue. You made us your bait, didn’t you?”

Feng Zhiwei remained silent, her eyes clear as crystal in the moonlight, without a ripple.

“The war’s overall situation is paramount—being your bait is nothing!” Yao Yangyu supported himself with his blood-stained long blade, looking up fiercely at Feng Zhiwei. “But they didn’t need to die! At the very least, not all of them! Yet you just watched—watched them lose limbs, get attacked by groups, get hacked apart by Great Yue’s wolf cubs, heads rolling to your feet, unable to close their eyes even in death. Watching us driven to desperation, furiously committing suicide—you didn’t move, you never moved. Fine, you’re impressive, you’re ruthless—you wanted to use us as bait to the utmost, make it indistinguishable from reality, deceive everyone, all just to—snatch back Jin Siyu’s horse?”

He hurled his long blade viciously, throwing it before Feng Zhiwei’s horse, his roar grief-stricken and furious:

“A hundred human lives for one horse!”

Feng Zhiwei lowered her head, looking at that blood-soaked long blade. Blood on the tip was Yao Yangyu’s own, but more belonged to enemies, coating the blade until its original color was invisible. She looked at that blade, recalling their first meeting in the Imperial Capital—that dissolute wastrel frequenting brothels—emotions surging inexplicably in her eyes.

Then without saying a word, she lightly patted her horse and moved aside a few steps.

Behind her, Zong Chen and Gu Nanyi also silently separated, each moving aside.

Yao Yangyu suddenly froze in place.

Behind the three of them, those shadowy figures were merely grass-covered broken trees—not a single person.

Those who came to rescue them numbered only three!

“I did use you as bait.” Feng Zhiwei finally spoke from horseback, her tone light. “When I discovered you, I simultaneously discovered the sneaking Yue army. So I split the Huzhuo Iron Cavalry into two routes—one to burn the Eastern Route main camp’s grain stores, one to ambush Jin Siyu’s path back to camp. Because Huzhuo infantry hadn’t arrived yet, splitting three thousand cavalry two ways was already stretching resources thin, so I only brought two people to follow you. I calculated that cutting off the Eastern Route’s grain might force Jin Siyu to withdraw, and Qianjin Ravine’s mountain walls could conceal our insufficient numbers. Jin Siyu is suspicious and cautious—he definitely wouldn’t rashly open battle… My apologies, I couldn’t act too early. Once discovered and trapped in encirclement, even supreme masters couldn’t withstand the ten thousand feathered arrows Jin Siyu left on the cliff walls.”

The three of them gazed somewhat dazedly at the empty cliff above, finally understanding why, despite Lord Gu’s exceptional martial skills, he never attacked Jin Siyu at such good opportunities—once entering the arrows’ range, there was only time for one action: either kill the enemy commander or rescue them. Clearly, Feng Zhiwei and Gu Nanyi had abandoned the excellent opportunity and chosen them.

Using them as bait, disregarding over a hundred guards’ lives—that was heartless.

Abandoning the great merit of killing the commander, resolutely rescuing them at the final moment—that was compassionate.

Yao Yangyu stared blankly at the empty valley ahead, then looked back at the mound of personal guards’ corpses behind, his heart in chaos, his mind blank, completely unable to distinguish gratitude from grievance, right from wrong, or the reasons for anything.

But Feng Zhiwei had already changed from her previous detachment, her tone gradually turning severe.

“Arrogant troops with rash advances inevitably fail! If previously this was merely words you read in books, today let these hundred-plus corpses teach you! If you don’t remember, you’ll never deserve to command Tiansheng’s military and people again!”

She dismounted, raised her hand and pulled out the blade Yao Yangyu had stuck before her horse, breaking it with a *snap*.

“I’ll teach you one final lesson—when life breaks like a blade snapping, it can never be mended. But this blade has already killed no fewer than ten men—it fulfilled its duty as a blade! People are the same. Commanders at all times should not fear sacrifice, as long as the sacrifice has value!”

The broken blade fell at Yao Yangyu’s feet. He stared down stupidly. Feng Zhiwei had already turned away without looking back, striding off.

“Lord Wei!”

Heavy sounds of kneeling came from behind.

Feng Zhiwei half-turned in the desolate moonlight to see that arrogant Imperial Capital wastrel kneeling in dust and blood.

The autumn moon was frost-white. The youths’ upturned faces were whiter than the moon, yet stained with blood as vivid as sunlight, gazing at her with such pained and earnest eyes.

“We are willing to follow in your wake for life, forever at your command!”

In mid-eighth month of Changxi year fourteen, Wei Zhi, who had disappeared in Nanhai for half a year, suddenly appeared at Qianjin Ravine. His arrival not only rescued Yao Yangyu and others from ambush and near-suicide, but he also seized the opportunity to split forces two ways, burning Great Yue’s Eastern Route Army camp’s grain stores. Jin Siyu hastily rushed to provide relief, but was again ambushed at Lujiao Plain at the northern foot of Jilan Mountain. The limited troops he brought were attacked by Huzhuo cavalry dispatched by Wei Zhi—fiercer and more savage than before—crashing in from high ground like horns, killing until blood flowed like rivers. Jin Siyu was indeed formidable. An ordinary general would have lost his life, but he disregarded safety and resolutely turned into deep mountain paths, sending death warriors as decoys to entangle the most ferociously pursuing Huzhuo cavalry. When he finally returned to camp, though utterly bedraggled, fortunately his twenty thousand troops’ strength was basically preserved.

This was Prince An of Great Yue’s first major defeat since becoming commander. The defeat wasn’t in actual strength but in Great Yue’s morale that had just been boosted by several consecutive victories. It was said that when Prince An returned to camp, though he reorganized formations outside the camp, washed and tidied himself, presenting an immaculate appearance with forcibly maintained composure, when soldiers saw the ordinary warhorse beneath him, they all let out shocked sighs in unison.

Rumors spread like wind. All said their infallibly strategic Prince An had been utterly defeated at Qianjin Ravine by a seventeen-year-old youth surnamed Wei who hadn’t loosed a single arrow yet seized his horse, rescued three important hostages right before his eyes—he hadn’t even dared pursue.

Jin Siyu beheaded three soldiers most active in spreading rumors for this. Though severed heads could block people’s mouths, they couldn’t stop the spread of dejected emotions. When news arrived that the Eastern Route grain stores had been burned, people fell into even greater panic.

Burning the enemy’s grain stores in warfare was always an excellent undermining strategy, yet also the most difficult plan to complete. Commanders on both sides knew grain’s importance and employed endless tactics in grain transport—real and fake, false and true. Jin Siyu especially excelled at this. Tiansheng had designs on his grain stores for a long time but had never once succeeded.

So this mutual-bait ambush battle seemed simple, but actually contained a battle of wits between Jin Siyu and Feng Zhiwei. After Jin Siyu’s Eastern Route Army grain stores’ victory in the last campaign, because Tiansheng learned their location, word spread they were being transferred from Donggang Town to Sanpo Village. Tiansheng ambushed at Sanpo Village only to discover what transferred over wasn’t grain but ambush troops. After this strike, Tiansheng dared not act rashly again and thereafter abandoned Sanpo Village. However, that night at Qianjin Ravine, Feng Zhiwei calmly still charged straight for Sanpo Village, but three li outside Sanpo Village quickly changed direction, attacking Fengli Valley Pass between Donggang Town and Sanpo Village. Indeed, there she intercepted the Eastern Route Army’s grain stores.

Jin Siyu was extremely shocked that Feng Zhiwei could guess that neither Donggang Town nor Sanpo Village were feints—he didn’t know that before coming, Feng Zhiwei had already studied his personality profile and past battle tactics, knowing the enemy and knowing yourself means a hundred victories. But Jin Siyu knew nothing about her.

From that day on, the Huzhuo cavalry led by Feng Zhiwei began entangling Jin Siyu in sustained combat across the Northern Frontier lands. Feng Zhiwei fully utilized cavalry’s high mobility, weaving through Hulun Grasslands and the foot of Gedamu Range, specifically targeting the Eastern Route Army that had originally killed four thousand Huzhuo Yinji warriors—seeing one, killing one; seeing a squad, killing a squad—also raiding Yue army scouts and grain transport units. From time to time she also conducted night raids harassing the three route main camps—attacking then immediately fleeing after killing for a while. You chase but can’t catch up; you return and she comes again. This rogue fighting style disturbed the Great Yue main camp into three daily scares, unable to eat in peace or sleep on pillows. Sometimes Feng Zhiwei wouldn’t even move—just lighting a few fires from afar on hilltops, shaking trees idly to startle birds into flight, then sleeping peacefully in the trees while distant Great Yue soldiers worried all night, not daring to sleep.

In just over a month, she earned the title “Grassland Fox.” Great Yue soldiers shook their heads upon hearing Wei Zhi’s name and went weak-kneed seeing the Huzhuo cavalry fiercer than before.

For this, Jin Siyu viciously added Wei Zhi’s name to the Tiansheng generals’ bounty list, alongside Commander-in-Chief Chunyu Hong—ten thousand taels of gold for Wei Zhi’s head.

Feng Zhiwei knew but merely smiled—her head was right there; take it if you have the skill.

The wastrels were all now her subordinates, voluntarily demoting themselves to serve as colonels in her cavalry unit, finding it far more satisfying than serving as staff generals in the main camp.

She fought across the grasslands for over a month. The Tiansheng main camp knew of her arrival but never saw her in person. Feng Zhiwei planned to achieve results before returning victoriously, so only after over a month did she enter the Tiansheng main camp.

Commander-in-Chief Chunyu Hong was delighted to learn the news. This missing-then-returned young court minister had indeed displayed superhuman talent in military affairs as well. Leading only Huzhuo cavalry, he’d managed to restrain the previously invincible Great Yue. He hastily ordered his subordinate generals to go greet him.

But those proud generals were somewhat unwilling—no matter how capable, no matter what fame achieved, he was just a civil official without military rank, leading only those grassland barbarians. Why should high-ranking generals like them go receive him?

Supply Officer Zhu Shirong was especially dissatisfied—before this Lord Wei even arrived, he’d already sent express riders to the supply depot with a long list demanding allocation of grain, arrows, leather armor, shields and other items, specifically requesting the best—who did he think he was? So picky and choosy?

People harbored various thoughts, standing in a row before the main camp, watching from afar as dust clouds filled the sky and flying cavalry thundered across the ground.

Like a dark cloud suddenly rising on the horizon, instantly connecting heaven and earth, that dark cloud briefly unfurled before their eyes, suddenly arriving right before them. People looked up to see countless bowl-sized hooves flying, stirring up earth without stopping, as if about to trample right on their heads. In great alarm, they hastily retreated about to cry out when they heard a clear whistle.

*Snap.*

Rising like sky-filling thunderclouds, halting in but a sound—over ten thousand cavalry reined in simultaneously, movements perfectly synchronized without the slightest deviation. The clear sound of bridles striking saddles rang out far and wide, yet also produced only a single resounding *clang*.

What exquisite horsemanship!

Chunyu Hong had originally doubted the Huzhuo cavalry’s achievements sweeping across grasslands, but now had to believe. The Huzhuo cavalry before his eyes were clearly even more fierce and elite than the previous batch that had died in battle.

The startled generals only now reacted, faces immediately flushing red with secret anger, about to vent a few words when suddenly their eyes brightened.

One rider leisurely approached.

Unlike the disciplined, elite, iron-like cavalry unit, the newcomer wore black clothes on a black horse, simply fitted with blue leather armor, a black brocade sash cinching a slender waist. The figure was thin yet vigorous, sitting on the horse with a clearly leisurely and casual posture, full-faced smile seemingly harmless as well. Yet those misty eyes—whoever they looked at felt their heart turn cold, as if their heart were instantly extracted and plunged into ten-thousand-year glaciers.

This was the one who had shocked the realm with national scholar fame, who had recently galloped across grasslands with killing edge—the “Grassland Fox,” civil-official-born Wei Zhi?

Everyone’s gazes couldn’t help but turn toward the three wastrels behind Wei Zhi. Those few who had given all the Imperial Capital headaches as romantic rakes now clearly had military bearing, following inseparably behind Wei Zhi. The once ten-thousand-defying arrogant air at their brows and eyes had all transformed into solemn, serious guardian demeanor.

Chunyu Hong’s gaze jumped—killing people was easy, subduing these Imperial Capital wastrels was hard. This Wei Zhi was truly extraordinary.

Thinking of his own son serving in Yuzhou main camp who, hearing Wei Zhi had returned, immediately submitted a letter requesting transfer to the main camp, preferably assigned to Huzhuo cavalry camp, even willing to demote himself one rank for it—Chunyu Hong couldn’t help but smile bitterly.

Full of sincere welcome, he went forward. Feng Zhiwei dismounted and stepped forward. After brief pleasantries, she said directly: “This subordinate has come to request the main camp allocate equipment. The weather is turning cold. The brothers are still wearing autumn clothes. Soft armor also needs replacing. Also weapons—fighting across the Northern Frontier, consumption is extremely rapid. We can’t do without any of these. Please show understanding, Commander.”

“Of course, of course.” Chunyu Hong readily agreed, immediately summoning Zhu Shirong. After a long moment, Zhu Shirong hurried over, not even glancing at Feng Zhiwei, only assuring Chunyu Hong profusely: “Commander, rest assured—everything’s prepared!”

“I’ll collect it myself.” Feng Zhiwei led Yao Yangyu and others to follow. Chunyu Hong dispatched a staff general to accompany them, saying: “Brother Wei has worked hard this past month. Since you’ve come to the main camp, rest and reorganize for a while. The supervising commissioner dispatched by the court may also arrive tonight—perfect timing for a welcoming banquet.”

“We’ll see.” Feng Zhiwei said lightly. “We don’t plan to lodge in the main camp—it’s not very convenient. We have our own encampment area ahead.”

Chunyu Hong understood. Last time the Huzhuo tribe was betrayed and tribal elites suffered massive casualties, there had also been scheming by Tiansheng military insiders. That they no longer trusted him was normal. He just didn’t understand how this outsider Wei Zhi had managed to win over the famously fierce Huzhuo tribe.

The question turned in his mind without emerging from his mouth. He returned to the main camp while Feng Zhiwei followed Zhu Shirong to the warehouse.

A pile of items was stacked at the warehouse entrance. At first glance, the quantity seemed substantial. Yao Yangyu stepped forward to have men load the carts when he suddenly exclaimed in surprise.

He held up a piece of leather armor toward Feng Zhiwei, casually kneading it—the armor immediately developed a hole.

Moldy, rotten leather armor.

Feng Zhiwei’s gaze flickered.

Yao Yangyu’s expression had already turned cold. He took out a long spear and lightly jabbed—the spearhead fell off.

The iron spearhead clanged falling to the ground. Yao Yangyu slowly turned his head, staring at Zhu Shirong.

Zhu Shirong’s expression was somewhat embarrassed. Among these items, good and bad were mixed half and half. Though Chunyu Hong had approved giving the cavalry camp the best leather armor and weapons, he harbored selfish motives. His brother-in-law, current Vice Minister Hu Shengshan’s second son, also served in Yuzhou main camp as staff general and had asked him to save some good items for his vanguard battalion, saying the day after tomorrow he’d come ask the commander for approval. So he mixed some flawed equipment among the good, hoping to muddle through. He thought the cavalry camp sometimes fought battles spanning hundreds of li in a day—they might not have time to run back for a few dozen moldy armor pieces to settle accounts. He hadn’t expected the wastrel to check items so carefully, examining every piece of armor by hand.

Meeting Yao Yangyu’s grim gaze, his heart pounded, yet he still didn’t consider this any major matter. With a forced smile he explained: “Brother Yao, all the good leather armor is here. There really isn’t enough. Right now every battalion is requesting supplies. It’s difficult for me too…”

Feng Zhiwei lowered her eyelids to look at him, saying lightly: “All the good leather armor is here?”

That gaze made Zhu Shirong’s heart jump again. Then he gritted his teeth and said loudly: “Yes!”

Without the commander’s approval and his own key, no one could enter the warehouse. He was certain all good armor was here—what could Wei Zhi do to him?

Feng Zhiwei looked at him, then tilted her head at Young Master Gu.

Young Master Gu flicked his sleeve. Cold light flashed. The massive lock on the warehouse door that required two men to lift crashed down, nearly crushing Zhu Shirong’s toes.

Shocked and pale, Zhu Shirong shouted: “What are you doing! Unauthorized entry to the warehouse means death—”

The deputy general Chunyu Hong sent to accompany them also hastily tried to stop them. Feng Zhiwei smiled at them: “Who said I was entering?”

Both men froze. Young Master Gu had already floated over, hands pushing emptily—the two heavy doors slowly opened before him. On the outermost wooden rack was leather armor. Young Master Gu gestured with one hand and a piece of armor fell into his grasp.

This technique of retrieving objects through air made Zhu Shirong’s face ashen. Feng Zhiwei said idly from the side: “We haven’t entered the door, you see…”

Young Master Gu shook the armor in his hand. The leather was bright and lustrous, supple and brand new.

Yao Yangyu kicked Zhu Shirong to the ground!

“What are you doing!” Zhu Shirong shouted. “I’m the supply officer! What I give you is my right to allocate! Those stinking grassland barbarians—what use do they have for good leather armor—”

“These stinking grassland barbarians killed over ten thousand Great Yue soldiers in just over a month!” Yao Yangyu slapped out all his teeth with a *smack*. “Worth more than all your achievements last year!”

Zhu Shirong mumbled through a mouthful of fresh blood, still trying to shout something. Yao Yangyu grabbed that moldy armor piece and viciously stuffed it in his mouth.

“Just recently at East Dam, Great Yue cavalry caught up with us and we fought! Having just finished one battle, the brothers’ armor wasn’t enough. They yielded to each other. Finally they decided—wrestling to determine armor ownership. Every one of them competed to lose!” Yao Yangyu planted his foot on Zhu Shirong’s chest, spitting on his face. “In the end, a squad leader ‘abused his authority’ and ‘lost’ his own armor. Then he was run through the chest by a Yue spear. Dying but not falling, he still stabbed to death the enemy who killed him—you motherfuckers cowering in the rear, how dare you allocate the worst armor to brothers who’ve bled the most!”

Light flashed in his eyes, bloodshot veins layering outward. The vicious gaze fixed on Zhu Shirong was like a wolf’s.

Tears glinted in the Huzhuo cavalrymen’s eyes, jaw muscles clenched and bulging high.

“Why waste so many words on him?” The previously silent Feng Zhiwei suddenly smiled without mirth. “Violating military orders—how should that be dealt with? Must I tell you?”

Yao Yangyu’s eyes brightened. Zhu Shirong had already started screaming in terror: “I didn’t violate military orders! I didn’t, I didn’t! You’re not a military general—you have no authority to kill me—”

“General Wei!” The deputy general Chunyu Hong sent also hastily stood before Zhu Shirong. “You can’t kill indiscriminately! This is Tiansheng’s main camp. If Zhu Shirong erred, the Commander should judge. If you arbitrarily kill a supply officer, that’s also a capital offense!”

Yao Yangyu hesitated, looking toward Feng Zhiwei. He didn’t care about his own future but worried about implicating her.

“Lord Wei!” The commotion here had already alarmed the command tent. A staff general ran over breathlessly, leaning toward Feng Zhiwei’s ear to whisper: “This man is Grand Secretary Hu’s son-in-law… he’s Prince Chu’s…”

Before finishing his sentence, he suddenly discovered the person beside him smiled.

With this smile, floating light flickered, thin and cool as moonlight about to rise at heaven’s edge. Then he heard this seventeen-year-old killing general say slowly and forcefully: “He’s from Prince Chu’s faction?”

The staff general stared blankly at Feng Zhiwei’s suddenly curving eyes, only feeling that smile looked somewhat chilling. Somewhat bewildered, he nodded.

“Very good.” Feng Zhiwei smiled even more warmly. “His Highness is brilliant—how can his subordinates include such scum? As his subjects, we absolutely cannot let such bastards ruin His Highness’s eternal reputation. What His Highness didn’t think of, we should do for him… Yangyu!”

“Here!”

“Kill!”

“Gladly!”

Sword light flashed. Fresh blood sprayed all over Yao Yangyu’s head and face. Zhu Shirong howled once, crashed to the ground with a *thud*, convulsed twice, and moved no more.

Fresh blood quietly flowed outward. All around, breath stopped in silence.

No one had expected this youth famous across the Northern Frontier would truly be as fiercely extraordinary as rumored—killing when he said kill. Invoking the commander was useless. Invoking Prince Chu—fine, that made him kill even faster.

Staring at the blood wending across the ground, everyone forgot to think, only feeling that blood seemed to flow backward into their own organs, choking their brains into chaos, unable to utter a word.

Feng Zhiwei gazed at the blood flowing toward her feet, smile never leaving her lips.

Returning this time, she was no longer the Wei Zhi of before—unclear in goals, hiding brilliance and biding time. She was Wei Zhi arriving with momentum, determined to overturn seas—she would never be satisfied merely killing one person or a thousand. What she wanted was to ascend step by step until towering above power, completely trampling underfoot everything she intended to overthrow!

From intercepted court documents, the Tiansheng Emperor was already dissatisfied with the overly cautious Chunyu Hong. At this time, revealing more of her edge could win the emperor’s favor and secure better standing!

Perfect—use this bastard’s blood to temper her newly unsheathed sword!

“Fine, that’s that.” She casually clapped her hands. “Yangyu, exchange our items according to the list, then return to camp.”

“Yes!”

That deputy general saw she actually planned to leave just like that and hastily blocked her, wanting to speak. But looking at the corpse on the ground, he didn’t know what to say. Feng Zhiwei glanced at him sideways, suddenly asking: “I hear the supervising commissioner is arriving?”

That deputy general looked at her in shock, not understanding why she changed the subject.

“You can step aside now.” Feng Zhiwei smiled lightly at him. “Tonight when the supervising commissioner arrives, he’ll surely carry an edict of reward and commendation for me. If I’m not mistaken, I’ll be at minimum a deputy general. So, my peer deputy general sir, please step aside.”

Though she spoke the word “please,” she didn’t even deign to glance at him. That deputy general looked up drenched in cold sweat, seeing behind her the fierce-eyed Huzhuo cavalry all gripping their sword hilts in unison, murderously staring at him.

Clearly, if he continued blocking, Deputy General Wei absolutely wouldn’t mind killing one more person.

This deputy general knew Wei Zhi’s position in the Tiansheng Emperor’s heart—peerless national scholar, youthful hero. The great merit from his Nanhai mission was still on file awaiting appointment. Now returning with such force, proving himself a military prodigy as well—for Tiansheng whose old commanders had withered away with no successors for years, what tremendous good news. With his achievements and future role, let alone killing a Zhu Shirong—even killing himself might not result in anyone being able to convict him.

The deputy general silently released his grip and stepped back, watching Yao Yangyu rapidly collect the items and depart whistling after Feng Zhiwei. By the time the command tent sent more people to look, Feng Zhiwei had long since left camp.

Her ten thousand cavalry had just galloped from the camp’s north gate, dust clouds rolling westward. A long procession flying huge apricot-yellow banners with the character “Ning” wended in through the camp’s south gate.

Passing each other by.