Years later, stories would still circulate among the common people about how various tribes responded to the Khan of Khans’ decree, leading entire clans to the Holy City to help their revered Buddha’s Son save it from peril. This became one of the most popular legends in every tribe.

The Buddha’s Son was the king in their hearts – with just one command from him, every tribe would willingly charge into battle.

That day, black smoke filled the air and flames blazed fiercely. The tribal alliance forces and regional garrisons descended like divine armies. Iron arrows darkened the sky as heavy cavalry, light cavalry, archers, and axemen formed their battle formations, converging from all directions to surround the Northern Rong alliance army on the wasteland outside the Holy City.

Heavy cavalry tore through the tribal army’s formations. Shield-bearing infantry advanced step by step, with spearmen behind them and archers firing arrows from the rear and flanks.

After a full day of slaughter, the Northern Rong Alliance army was utterly demoralized and scattered. Watching their tattered tribal banners fall one after another, they turned and fled in desperate panic, running like scattered wolves and swine.

Prince Mobituo of the Wujili tribe, wearing a bronze mask, led tribal warriors alongside his father to crush the Northern Rong alliance’s main camp. Where their iron cavalry passed, blood flowed like rivers and corpses littered the ground.

The alliance army tried to break through, but the tribal cavalry’s encirclement grew ever tighter as the noose slowly closed. The alliance could only retreat, but several tribal forces withdrawing from different directions crashed into each other, discovering that their rear and both flanks were surrounded by similarly trapped comrades. They had no escape route.

Tens of thousands were tightly compressed into converging circles, pressed body against body, arm against arm. War horses trampled soldiers as everyone fought desperately to push forward and upward just to avoid being crushed into a bloody pulp by others and horses’ hooves. Once fallen, none could rise again. Soldiers climbed onto horseback, and scaled piles of bodies, forcing their way past anyone blocking their path.

Iron arrows whistled through the air, bringing sprays of blood in their wake.

The snow-white ground was stained red with sticky blood.

The setting sun burned like blood as the northern wind cut sharply.

Hai Du Aling turned his horse, his felt robe soaked in blood. After fighting all day, he was exhausted and covered in wounds. He wiped blood from his face, revealing torn and lacerated flesh. His pale golden hawk eyes surveyed the scene, watching reinforcements pour in like the tide from all directions, listening to the desperate screams of soldiers trapped with no way out. He gave a self-mocking smile.

Defeat, depression, and despair welled up in his heart.

A hero at the end of his road, a trapped beast making its last stand.

He had thought he had trapped Tanmoluojia by taking advantage of the court’s internal strife, but now he realized he was the one truly trapped.

Khan Wahan had always been overly cautious when facing Tanmoluojia, to the point of seeing enemies in every shadow. Whenever Tanmoluojia’s banner appeared on the battlefield, Wahan’s heart would tighten with anxiety.

Previously, the Northern Rong nobles had mocked Khan Wahan for being frightened by a mere monk, and Hai Du Aling had felt the same, believing Wahan had become overly hesitant and indecisive in his old age.

Now he understood Wahan’s concerns.

His blood-soaked commanders rushed over: “Prince, we’ll cover your escape!”

Hai Du Aling looked at his loyal subordinates with tears in his eyes and sighed: “At this point if I try to break through with my forces, the Buddha’s Son will surely concentrate his troops to block me.”

The subordinates exchanged glances, and one rode forward, saluting: “Prince, please remove your armor and let me wear your battle garments. I will lead several thousand men to break through from the northwest corner, while Ajin and others will break through from the southeast and northeast corners to draw away pursuers. When the court’s main force comes to intercept, you can then escape in the chaos!”

The others all agreed.

Hai Du Aling’s heart skipped a beat. This was exactly the escape plan he had thought of, but he hadn’t expected his subordinates to volunteer before he could even suggest it.

He heaved a long sigh and raised his sword: “You have followed me for many years, staying loyal even when others betrayed me. My poor leadership has trapped you all in this desperate situation – how could I sacrifice you to save myself? Better that I act as bait to draw away the court’s elite forces while you escape with our men!”

Seeing his righteous determination to die with honor, the commanders wept: “Prince, victory, and defeat are common in war. While the mountain stands, there will always be firewood. You are a world-class hero and the hope for Northern Rong’s restoration. You cannot die! You must escape, rebuild Northern Rong, and avenge us one day!”

As they spoke, they rushed forward despite Hai Du Aling’s protests, quickly stripped off his armor, changed into his clothes, and pushed him into the crowd.

Hai Du Aling merged into the soldiers, looking back to see his subordinates raising their arms and shouting, leading soldiers to break through in different directions. His heart twisted in pain.

These subordinates were the trusted allies he had spent so much effort cultivating. Today, they would all die outside the Holy City.

His face contorted, veins bulging, nearly drawing blood from his clenched teeth as he turned and unhesitatingly led his remaining guards in a gallop toward the opposite direction.

Behind him, the court’s regional forces under Tanmoluojia’s command continued to tighten the encirclement.

Bisuo looked around and spotted a figure in commander’s armor trying to break through surrounded by Northern Rong cavalry. He was about to give chase when his peripheral vision caught figures in two other corners. His brow furrowed slightly as he looked back.

Tanmoluojia nodded to him.

Without further hesitation, Bisuo spurred his horse in pursuit.

…

Several Northern Rong commanders split up to draw away the court’s elite forces, with Mobituo and Bisuo leading troops in pursuit.

Hai Du Aling was overjoyed. He whipped his horse forward, shooting through the court soldiers’ net like an arrow leaving the bow, breaking free, and leaving the bloody battlefield behind.

His guards followed closely.

He gripped the reins tightly, the wound on his face burning like a knife cut.

Fortune and misfortune were intertwined; man proposes but heaven disposes. Today he had lost to Tanmoluojia, but once he regrouped, he would surely return to power!

Neither proud in victory nor discouraged in defeat – Northern Rong men grew up raiding and conquering with their fathers and brothers, so one defeat meant nothing! Khan Wahan had campaigned north and south, experiencing countless battles large and small throughout his life, leading an unremarkable small tribe on the grasslands to establish the mighty Northern Rong. He had escaped danger time and again, rising from a parentless orphan to become a commander leading a hundred thousand troops. As long as he could survive, he would have a chance to rise again!

He was a son of the wolf, with the blood of the divine wolf flowing through his veins. He would never admit defeat.

Hai Du Aling’s mind was buzzing when suddenly a guard behind him called out in a raised voice, pointing to a valley ahead: “Prince, once we pass through this valley, we can shake off our pursuers!”

Hai Du Aling snapped back to awareness and looked up at the distant valley.

The setting sun cast pale golden rays over the snow-covered peaks flanking the valley, the accumulated snow reflecting brilliant light.

Remembering Li Yaoying’s secret weapon, an ominous premonition arose. Hai Du Aling’s heart pounded as he pulled his horse to a stop. After a moment’s thought, he decisively said: “There may be an ambush in the valley. Let’s take another route.”

The guards acknowledged and turned their horses with him, the group galloping westward.

The wind howled as snow-capped peaks stood in the gathering dusk. Hoofbeats echoed like sudden rain in the distance.

Hai Du Aling rode hard with his head down, hoping to quickly lose his pursuers and leave the court’s territory.

Now that all the armies and tribes had come to the Holy City, other regions must be poorly defended. If he could escape the Holy City’s territory, he would be safe. Then he could bypass the Sand City and feign an attack on Gaochang. Li Yaoying would surely withdraw her troops in fear, allowing him to gather his old forces and rebuild his army, first returning to the suzerain state to recover…

As Hai Du Aling quickly calculated, a sharp whistle suddenly rang out ahead.

In the bloody sunset, a whistling arrow shot from behind a boulder by the road, flying straight up into the sky.

Immediately after, hoofbeats rang out as a company of riders emerged from behind hills painted deep crimson by the setting sun. From a distance they looked like a thundercloud rolling in, their banners embroidered with “Western Army” and snow-white battle robes flying in the snowy landscape, advancing with the force of thousands.

The ground trembled slightly beneath their feet.

In the blink of an eye, the company had galloped to within dozens of paces of Hai Du Aling. The banners drew closer, led by a commander in white robes and silver armor, head wrapped in a cloth, sword at the waist, face stern and proper.

“Hai Du Aling, I am Xie Qing, Left Cavalry General of the Western Army. I have been waiting here for you.”

Xie Qing drew her sword, black eyes fixed intently on Hai Du Aling, her gaze sharp as a blade.

Years ago, when they fled from the Yelu tribe back to the Central Plains, they were just one step from returning home when Hai Du Aling’s army caught up and captured Seventh Lady. She and the other guards were powerless to resist, only able to watch helplessly as Seventh Lady was taken away by Hai Du Aling.

She was Seventh Lady’s guard but could not protect her.

During those days, the Seventh Lady was trapped in Hai Du Aling’s tent. Day and night, Hai Du Aling humiliated and tortured the Seventh Lady, trying to force her submission. She had watched Seventh Lady being driven like a slave, seen her dodging mad horses in the stable… She dared not imagine what Seventh Lady endured during those nights when Hai Du Aling entered the tent…

From the day Seventh Lady was captured, she reminded herself every day that she must train harder, and become stronger, to protect Seventh Lady!

The wind suddenly turned bitter cold.

Xie Qing held her sword, watching Hai Du Aling as two cold, sharp lights burst from her eyes.

She had been lying in ambush here for a long time.

This time, she would stop Hai Du Aling. She could not let him escape!

A chill ran up from the soles of his feet as Hai Du Aling’s hair stood on end, his heart violently shaken.

Li Yaoying had indeed arranged an ambush.

The woman he wanted to conquer had never submitted to him, instead opposing him at every turn, plotting carefully to eliminate him root and branch.

And he had always thought that once he built a mighty empire and conquered the court and Western Regions, Li Yaoying would eventually submit to him like other Northern Rong women, docilely yielding to his authority.

He was brave, mighty, and tall, the greatest warrior of Northern Rong, yet Li Yaoying scorned him while risking her life for a monk who spent all day chanting sutras.

Hai Du Aling swallowed the sweet metallic taste rising in his throat, gripped his sword, and burst into wild laughter: “With just these few men, you think you can stop me?!”

His voice was hoarse as he drew his sword, muscles tensed, his whole body like an unsheathed blade radiating killing intent.

Killing intent also surged in Xie Qing’s eyes as she raised her sword and spurred her horse toward him.

The two swords clashed, sparks flying.

Blades flashed as the two became entangled, exchanging dozens of moves until sweat covered both their brows.

Hai Du Aling’s killing intent was fierce, his internal energy profound, his battlefield-honed techniques decisive and ruthless.

Xie Qing’s strength was inferior to his and she was clearly at a disadvantage, but she showed no fear, repeatedly flying forward to attack even when wounded.

Blades struck, chopped, cleaved, and slashed as Xie Qing used all her strength, her sword sliding diagonally past Hai Du Aling’s neck.

Hai Du Aling dodged this strike, his heart pounding.

Their respective forces roared as they fought.

Xie Qing’s group had waited in ambush and were full of energy, while Hai Du Aling’s men were exhausted from the great battle. Unable to launch a sudden assault, they could only quickly form a circular formation to resist the Western Army’s encirclement.

The sunset withdrew its final rays as night fell gently. The two forces fought fiercely as hooves crushed the snow.

Hai Du Aling swung his sword again and again, his figure still tall and mighty, but his guards fell one by one around him. With a loud crash, his helmet was knocked into the snow, his braided hair scattered, and his face a bloody mess, but his hawk-like eyes blazed as his swordwork grew increasingly vicious.

Xie Qing breathed heavily, steadied herself, parrying and blocking, then suddenly leaped up, her whole body like a streak of light as her sword slashed down at Hai Du Aling from above.

The sound of the blade cutting through the air was like dragons roaring and tigers howling.

This strike concentrated all of Xie Qing’s internal energy and courage into one downward slash. Hai Du Aling raised his sword to meet it, and with a crisp sound, the blade bent. Xie Qing didn’t dissipate her force but continued forward, her sword chopping toward Hai Du Aling’s neck, trailing sparks.

Hai Du Aling was already exhausted and knew he couldn’t block a second strike, but his reactions were still lightning-fast. His wrist turned as he drew the short blade at his waist with incredible speed, stabbing diagonally upward.

The blade struck Xie Qing’s face, instantly drawing blood. Her eyes wide open, she didn’t retreat but instead, choosing mutual destruction, gripped her sword handle tighter and brought the blade down.

Their guards cried out in terror, a chorus of shocked voices.

In that flash of lightning, Hai Du Aling roared in anger, his body leaning backward as the blade cut through his armor and undergarment, leaving a long bloody gash. Gritting his teeth, he fell from his horse.

Seeing him dismounted, the Western Province troops immediately surrounded him on horseback, dozens of spears thrust downward. Hai Du Aling endured the intense pain, springing up like a carp, supporting himself with his long sword as he faced the dark mass of advancing Western Province troops, panting heavily.

Xie Qing withdrew, standing to one side with her sword as if waiting for something.

Several muffled sobs reached his ears.

Hai Du Aling turned his gaze, looking around.

They were now surrounded by the Western Army that had long laid in ambush. His guards were disheveled, covered in blood, their armor broken, robes stained red, faces so blood-smeared their original features were unrecognizable. Their exhausted eyes were filled with despair and desolation. Their horses had collapsed from exhaustion, arrows were spent, and sword edges were dulled as the Western Army closed in step by step.

Today would be their death day.

Someone was wiping away tears.

Hai Du Aling’s anger flared, his eyes nearly bursting – how could his guards cry so weakly before the enemy?

Those few guards trembled like sieves, pointing at the approaching Western Army, terror-stricken.

Hai Du Aling, face covered in blood, looked in the direction his guards were pointing.

A company of torch-bearing cavalry approached through the night, a dark mass moving with a steady, deadly presence, their banners crackling in the wind.

As they drew near, soldiers on both sides moved aside to clear a path.

The fighting suddenly stopped, silence falling like still water all around.

Clear hoof beats sounded as a single rider slowly approached, surrounded by guards.

Xie Qing went forward to hold her horse.

Torchlight fell on her body and face, illuminating her graceful figure and beautiful countenance. She wore a cloak over her shoulders and a felt hat on her head. Reining her horse to a stop at a distance, she looked down at Hai Du Aling, her bright eyes colder than the eternally snow-covered peaks.

Behind her, a company of guards stood with drawn swords, respectful in bearing – Western Province troops with deep-set features.

Hai Du Aling gazed up at Li Yaoying, as radiant as moonlight in the night, remaining silent for a long while.

He recognized that the guards behind Li Yaoying were Northern Rong people who had previously followed Khan Wahan into battle, but after being captured by the Western Army, had sworn loyalty to Li Yaoying.

This woman truly hated him, personally leading troops to hunt him down.

He had been a hero all his life, yet now he would die at a woman’s hands.

Hai Du Aling’s lips curved in a desolate smile.

In the silence, a thundering of hooves suddenly approached from the east as three to four hundred mounted figures emerged from the night. Their leader wore a helmet and golden armor, tall and mighty, with narrow phoenix eyes coldly glaring at Hai Du Aling, his bearing dominating and killing intent obvious, a bright sword in his hand.

Li Zhongqian had also come.

The trapped beast was cornered in its cage.

Hai Du Aling closed his eyes briefly, then looked back up at Li Yaoying.

Yaoying held her reins, expression calm. Though expressionless, her grace remained undimmed.

At their first meeting at the palace banquet, she had been gorgeously dressed, radiant as the bright moon – the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Hai Du Aling’s gaze turned cold and dark.

“Prince, let’s surrender! When Prince Jinbo and the others surrendered, the Buddha’s Son didn’t kill them, even made them princes. Prince, if we surrender to the Buddha’s Son, we can still enjoy wealth and glory!”

“Prince, as long as we’re alive, there’s still hope for restoration!”

Guards crawled to Hai Du Aling’s feet, clutching his legs and crying: “Prince, surrender!”

Princess Wenzhao had come, Xie Qing had come, and now the legendary Li Zhongqian, bravest of all armies, had come too. With only these few men left, how could they break through?

The night wind swept past, cold as snow.

Blood had dried and crusted on his face; when the wind blew, it felt like silver needles pricking his skin, bringing waves of pain.

Hai Du Aling raised his eyes, meeting each of his guards’ gazes in turn, his lips curving.

He could kneel in surrender to any powerful enemy, he didn’t care about his reputation… but he absolutely could not surrender to Li Yaoying.

Even if he surrendered, Li Zhongqian wouldn’t spare him – the man was ruthless and showed no mercy on the battlefield.

Better to die quickly than suffer humiliation.

Hai Du Aling laughed several times, spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, and raised his short sword. “You can surrender…”

His tone was calm.

His guards had followed him seeking advancement – since he could no longer provide that, they needn’t die with him.

“You have followed me this far, fulfilling all obligations of loyalty. Those who wish to live can surrender! I won’t blame you.”

As for himself, he must fight until the very end.

He had no other choice.

The strong devour the weak – his blood flowed with ambition and desire to conquer all. Victory meant being strong, and defeat meant death.

Hai Du Aling faced the dense mass of Western Province troops, charging forward to hack, fight, and slash.

In the distance, Li Zhongqian’s expression darkened as he took a wine flask from his guard, removed the stopper, and poured the strong liquor over his silver sword blade, making it gleam like water.

This man before him had once imprisoned Mingyuenu.

His phoenix eyes widened as he dove into the formation, swift as a falcon taking a rabbit, his sword flashing and trembling as it surrounded Hai Du Aling.

Hai Du Aling clenched his teeth, desperately swinging his short sword, his movements growing increasingly slow.

…

On the hillside, Yaoying pulled her cloak tight as she witnessed Hai Du Aling’s heroic end.

When Hai Du Aling’s tall figure fell under Li Zhongqian’s sword, her brows moved slightly as she raised her hand to brush aside hair blown by the night wind.

Her thoughts returned to the past when she and her guards thought they had finally escaped his clutches, only for Hai Du Aling to suddenly appear, like a cat toying with mice, cruelly shattering her hopes and plunging them into complete despair.

Now, today, Hai Du Aling’s life ended here.

From this point on, Northern Rong had no possibility of restoration.

The Western Regions would enter an era of peace and stability, the He-Long region would be recovered, trade routes would flow freely, common people could focus on production and labor, merchants could travel north and south, and inns would crowd every trade route.

All things would flourish and prosper.

The battlefield fell silent for a moment before erupting in heart-rending wails as Hai Du Aling’s subordinates knelt beside him. Several guards drew their swords and took their own lives to follow him, while others wept uncontrollably as they threw down their weapons in surrender.

A guard asked Yaoying: “Princess, how should we handle Hai Du Aling’s body?”

Yaoying replied flatly: “He was an enemy commander who died in battle – bury him according to custom.”

The guard acknowledged.

Boot steps crunched through the snow, the sound drawing closer.

Li Zhongqian approached Yaoying with his sword in hand, fresh blood dripping from the thin blade.

Yaoying dismounted: “Elder Brother.”

Li Zhongqian walked up to her, looking down with bloodshot phoenix eyes, his gaze sharp.

“Whoever dares bully our Mingyuenu, Brother will cut them down.”

Whether he was nine, eleven, twenty-three, or thirty, forty… anyone who bullied Mingyuenu would have to get through him first.

Yaoying smiled, but before she could speak, Li Zhongqian’s expression suddenly darkened as he dropped his sword and snorted coldly.

“Hai Du Aling is dead – return to Gaochang with me immediately!”

These days he had led the Western Army in attacking the passes, drawing Hai Du Aling’s attention to make him lower his guard. Everything had gone according to their plan, and though there were some small unexpected issues, he had resolved them smoothly. But he still didn’t know the situation at the Holy City and was nearly mad with worry!

If Yaoying hadn’t discussed every step with him beforehand, if his subordinates hadn’t daily persuaded him to prioritize the bigger picture, he would have led troops to the Holy City long ago!

Yaoying immediately stopped smiling and took Li Zhongqian’s arm: “Brother, thanks to you holding back Hai Du Aling’s scouts during this time, the tribal forces were able to circle from the west to surround the alliance army, and Yang Qian was able to secretly attack Hai Du Aling’s base…”

Li Zhongqian’s lips curved as he cut off her words: “Stop trying to placate me with sweet talk, pack your things, and prepare to return.”

Yaoying sighed, “I can’t leave immediately now, let’s go back to the Holy City first.”

Li Zhongqian’s brows furrowed tightly.

At this moment, Yuanjue stepped out from the ranks and saluted Li Zhongqian: “Duke Wei, the King specifically instructed me to tell you, if I saw you, that he requests you must visit the Holy City.”

Li Zhongqian raised an eyebrow: “Why should I go to the Holy City?”

Yuanjue said: “The King said you once asked him several questions, wanting him to promise you something, and at the time he couldn’t answer your questions.”

Li Zhongqian’s expression remained blank.

Yaoying looked up at him, narrowing her eyes: “Brother, what questions did you ask the Master?”

Li Zhongqian’s lips twisted, but he didn’t answer her, turning to walk away instead.

Yaoying watched his retreating figure, shaking her head with a smile before turning to speak with Xie Qing.

Yuanjue’s eyes darted about as he trotted after Li Zhongqian, saying softly: “Duke Wei, the King said he can now answer your questions, and he has a request to make of you. He asks that when you pass by the Holy City, you spare time to meet him. If you’re too busy, the King can come to Gaochang to see you.”

Li Zhongqian’s steps halted as a cold light flashed through his eyes, his gaze suddenly turning sharp.

…

The guards and Northern Rong prisoners remained to clean up the battlefield while Li Zhongqian rode with Yaoying back to the Holy City.

Outside the Holy City, the great battle had ended.

To cover Hai Du Aling’s escape, several of his subordinates had led iron cavalry in desperate combat, but they hadn’t held out long. Other tribal forces had already collapsed, and seeing one tribe throw down their weapons, others followed in surrender. Mobituo led tribal forces to break through the Northern Rong iron cavalry’s formation, destroying the alliance army’s final solid battle line like dead wood and withered grass.

One after another, deep horns resounded through heaven and earth – this time, not the enemy’s terrifying attack drums, but victory horns announcing the court’s triumph.

The common people hiding in the Royal Temple wept with excitement, streaming out to climb the cliffs and broken city walls, cheering for victory.