Jing Hengbo was helped up from the well by Master Mu, and they also hauled up the corpse. Though it was inconvenient to carry and the body was in terrible condition, neither of them suggested abandoning it.

Jing Hengbo wanted to carry it herself, but Master Mu stopped her. He pulled some curtains from the ruins, wrapped the corpse, and carried it on his back.

After walking a few steps, he saw the dawn beginning to break. Today was overcast with threatening snow. The clouds hung in patches, presenting a blue-gray tile color. Sunlight filtered dimly from behind the clouds, as if outlining those crisscrossing meridians with faint golden threads.

Master Mu suddenly paused, thought for a moment, set down the corpse, and jumped back into the well.

Jing Hengbo didn’t understand why, but still rushed over hopefully. She believed Master Mu wouldn’t do anything pointless—there must be some clue.

Master Mu jumped into the well, no longer feeling around with his palms, but instead tapping one by one on those stones that looked very small and completely impossible for a person to pass through.

Finally, at about a person and a half’s height, he opened that passage.

Master Mu was delighted, then immediately discovered the passage was empty. The passage was indeed extremely small, like a waterway used to balance water levels when necessary. A person absolutely couldn’t crawl into it.

A person could only lie down to enter, but the problem was: who could stay in such a hole to pull someone in?

He stood there stunned for a long while. The hope that had risen was shattered again, and he felt an indescribable discomfort throughout his body. This discomfort wasn’t for Pei Shu—they had no friendship—it was for Jing Hengbo.

The taste of despair followed by hope followed by crushing disappointment was worse than despair alone.

He slowly climbed up the well, not daring to face Jing Hengbo’s hopeful gaze. But Jing Hengbo immediately read the answer from his expression, took a deep breath, and said: “Let’s go.”

Master Mu watched her shoulders sag from behind, wanting nothing more than to forcefully turn her around, pull her into his arms, and tell her it didn’t matter—at least he was there.

He stretched out his hand halfway, but she didn’t turn back.

His hand ultimately only grasped a handful of pale sunlight.

While she ahead of him, facing the sunlight, had already recovered her calm pace, as if walking into that eternal brightness.

…

After the two left, another figure drifted over, dressed exactly like Master Mu.

He sat in a tree, watching the backs of those two figures sweeping away one behind the other, his eyes containing a kind of helpless vastness.

Then he looked down at the well below and also leaped in.

He also searched around the filthy well bottom, thought for a while, then began tapping those seemingly impossible protruding stones one by one, opening that passage.

Afterward he reached his hand into the passage, and when he pulled it out, he saw bloody mud on his hand.

His eyes flashed. Unwilling to give up, he continued feeling around, pulling out a section of chain. He straightened it and explored bit by bit, not caring that the dirt inside soiled his spotless sleeves.

A moment later he felt out another item—a brass clasp used to fasten Pei Shu’s wrist guard. Earlier, when he had furiously pounded away and was then dragged backward out of the hole by the brocade-clad man, the clasp had fallen off.

Light flashed in his eyes.

…

When dawn was about to break, Meng Potian and Zirui were already standing in a hidden alley outside Daimao Palace.

Meng Potian indeed had ways. She was familiar with Daimao Palace’s roads and even knew several eunuchs. With their help and cover, she changed into eunuch clothing and secretly snuck out of the palace.

Of course, this was also the result of Jing Hengbo’s correct judgment. When they left, the Imperial Guards in the palace still hadn’t mobilized—it was the safest time.

“You wait here,” Meng Potian instructed Zirui, tightened her belt, drew her twin blades, and turned to walk back.

“Where are you going?” Zirui called out in shock to stop her.

Meng Potian turned back with a smile. In the morning light her smile was resolute, and something seemed to glitter brightly in her eyes.

“I’m going back to find that person,” she said slowly.

Zirui immediately understood who she meant and rushed out to grab her: “You’re crazy! You’re going to your death!”

She was frantic with worry, desperately clutching Meng Potian’s sleeve—the Queen’s having Meng Potian escort her out was false; wanting Meng Potian not to act impulsively was true. Who knew this girl had such a stubborn nature—she’d fulfill her promise to escort someone out, then go back!

“Do you know?” Meng Potian ignored her, looking at the sky. “In that coffin, Pei Shu and I… we…”

Zirui’s eyes widened even more in shock—no way? Really? That was possible too?

“We…” Meng Potian ultimately couldn’t say it, finally gritting her teeth: “Anyway, as I see it, in this lifetime, I’ll marry no one but him!”

Zirui thought something had really happened, standing stunned for a long while. Her heart couldn’t help but ache for her, yet she still refused to let go: “Then you even more can’t go! The Young Marshal… the Young Marshal is already… You’re no match for that person! You’ll die!”

Meng Potian laughed heartily, flourishing her twin blades: “People of the martial world don’t fear death—they fear wanting to die but not daring to.”

She brought down her blade, cutting off her own sleeve, and smiled: “This isn’t severing our robes in betrayal.”

Watching her red-eyed smile, Zirui felt that blade had cut her heart.

“Since I consider myself his person, then we live together, die together, die at the same person’s hands—that also fulfills our mutual obligation.” Meng Potian flourished her twin blades: “I’m going.”

Zirui choked up and couldn’t speak, following closely, determined to accompany her.

After Meng Potian let her follow for a few steps, she turned around, tapped the wall with her blade, and said impatiently: “You women are just so wishy-washy. I’m seeking death for my husband—what business is it of yours to follow? Stand there. I have something for you to tell the Queen.” She gestured for Zirui to lean in and whispered: “Ming Yan’an must take Longevity Pills daily. If he doesn’t eat them for three days, he’ll be rolling around on the ground.”

Zirui was about to ask what Longevity Pills were when she saw her curl her lip: “Isn’t your Queen supposed to be supremely wise? Isn’t she number one in the world? What Longevity Pills are, she’s so amazing, she’ll definitely know.”

Zirui was speechless, not expecting the woman warrior who had just been generously going to her death to turn into a petty-minded little woman in the blink of an eye.

“I’m giving her this information to repay her life-saving grace. Meng Potian’s debts and grudges are all settled in this lifetime—this is a good time for satisfying revenge.” Meng Potian seemed in much better spirits, whistling as she shouldered her twin blades and turned to leave.

Zirui leaned against the wall, holding back sobs. In her blurred vision, the girl turning away had black hair and sleeves flying together, and gradually a patch of scattered snow began to fall among her flowing hair and garments.

She looked up and felt something cool on her nose tip.

It was snowing.

Another year’s snow.

…

Jing Hengbo and Master Mu continued forward. By now guards had begun closing in from inside, trying to keep them in the palace.

Jing Hengbo naturally wouldn’t return to the main hall. The negotiation with Ming Yan’an had been a pretense from the start. Once she entered Shangyuan City, she knew Ming Yan’an would never accept her, just as she would never again tolerate Ming Yan’an.

What she needed to do now was safely bring everyone out of Shangyuan, then build up strength and go to war with Ming Yan’an.

Thinking of “everyone,” her heart immediately ached, then she shook her head, not letting herself think too much at this time. She asked Master Mu: “Where is Chai Yu?”

“Yuehua Palace.”

The two headed straight for Yuehua Palace. It was cold and deserted here—everyone had gone toward Ningxue Pavilion. Chai Yu came out to meet them, her face somewhat wooden.

“Good that you’re safe,” Jing Hengbo said. “Let’s leave quickly.”

But Master Mu asked: “Where’s that child?”

“He was taken away…” Chai Yu said in a low voice.

Master Mu stared at her. Not far away, shouting voices could already be heard—palace guards were about to arrive.

“Then let’s go,” Jing Hengbo decided immediately.

Chai Yu obediently followed them. Jing Hengbo took hold of her as usual and teleported with her.

In the rushing wind, she heard Chai Yu breathing heavily, and that breathing seemed to carry a faint strange odor. Since she was downwind, she smelled it clearly.

Chai Yu hadn’t been rushing about all night, so she shouldn’t be this exhausted, but Jing Hengbo didn’t ask.

Suddenly something cool touched her nose. She looked up at the sky—it was snowing.

Whenever it snowed, she always felt somewhat absent-minded. Chai Yu glanced at her sideways, sadness impossible to hide in her eyes.

With snow came wind, and the wind soon dispersed that strange smell.

No matter how fast the guards closed in, they couldn’t match her teleportation speed. Soon she was out of the palace.

Master Mu followed afterward. According to their signal, he found that alley where Zirui was waiting for them. Her first words were: “Meng Potian went back again!”

Jing Hengbo was startled and couldn’t help sighing: “How rare!”

But Master Mu said: “I’ll have someone rescue her later. For now, you should leave quickly.”

The group took advantage of the outer city guards not yet receiving orders from the inner city and quietly left the city. Master Mu had Jing Hengbo’s group go ahead, saying he needed to get a wheelchair from Shangyuan City to bring out. Once outside Shangyuan City, there would be spies from various factions, and he still wanted to pretend to be disabled, so he needed to bring the necessary props.

Jing Hengbo took Zirui and Chai Yu out of the city first. She could teleport with two people at most. They nearly fell at the city wall, and barely managing to land, they were still within the city gate’s shooting range. They had to run frantically with Zirui and Chai Yu while arrows rained down behind them, thudding continuously in rows behind her feet. White dust kicked up and splattered on her backside, making her look quite disheveled.

After finally escaping beyond the city wall’s range, Jing Hengbo bent over with her hands on her knees, breathing heavily. She thought to herself that entering the city gate had been somewhat dignified, but leaving so disheveled—at least dawn had just broken and not many people had seen…

Having finished congratulating herself, she looked up to see a mass of dark crowds before her…

Jing Hengbo’s vision went black. Just as she was thinking that her royal dignity was now completely ruined and wondering how much effort it would take to rebuild it… suddenly she heard deafening cheers: “Your Majesty is mighty!”

“Long live the Queen!”

Jing Hengbo stood stunned. Where had so many people come from so early in the morning?

Then she saw Chang Fang and that group of old men standing at the very front of the crowd, their wrinkled faces smiling like Persian chrysanthemums.

Chang Fang was quite pleased with himself at the moment, because Qu Ti was muttering beside him: “Fine, Old Chang, you win again. You’re ruthless.” While painfully pulling out the silver he’d lost.

People around them smiled without speaking.

“I really don’t know where you get such confidence in her, yet you win every time…” Qu Ti painfully counted out silver for him.

Old Chang smiled so hard his teeth showed but not his eyes. Whether he was happy because Jing Hengbo had succeeded or because he’d gotten the silver, no one could tell. He stepped forward first and congratulated her loudly: “Congratulations to Your Majesty’s divine might! Single-handedly entering Shangyuan, righteously rescuing the female official, and returning triumphant!”

Seeing the old man’s joyful face, Jing Hengbo immediately understood this was organized by Old Chang Fang. The great sages had all held office and understood the importance of public opinion. This was deliberately creating momentum for her, helping her win the people’s hearts.

The great sage had the people wait outside all night, raising their questions and appetite to the highest point. At the moment she safely emerged with Zirui, the people’s excitement and worship also reached boiling point simultaneously.

Her heart felt slightly happy. Chang Fang and the others’ proactive arrangements represented these sages’ sincere allegiance—they had begun wholeheartedly strategizing for her as queen. This was also the beginning of winning all hearts under heaven.

However, this joy was immediately replaced by a desolate emotion—she had won the sages and people’s allegiance but lost her most important general. Gaining one thing, losing another—was this heaven’s will?

Must you lose something of equal weight for everything you gain?

“Your Majesty,” Old Chang Fang played his part to the fullest, solemnly presenting a cup of wine. “We ministers, representing the people of our three counties, thank Your Majesty for loving the people like your own children, with righteousness reaching the clouds. Our lord’s benevolence allows us all to bask in your virtuous radiance. The territory of our three counties will surely become a land of harmony because of Your Majesty!”

The people cheered in unison: “Thank Your Majesty for loving the people like your own children, with righteousness reaching the clouds!”

The people’s excitement was genuine. A strong, almost miraculous ruler represented future stability. The people of the three counties had been tormented enough by different martial world factions.

Jing Hengbo felt somewhat uncomfortable—was this where the political figure’s ceremonial work was about to begin?

However, Old Chang Fang’s eyes told her: yes, just like this. You must get used to it, starting right now.

To gain something, you must not only lose, but also give up…

She accepted the wine cup.

The cheering crowd suddenly fell silent.

The Queen held the wine cup, showing no joy or pride, silent for a long time, but gradually taking on a bleak expression.

Everyone looked at each other.

The cheering gradually became quieter, and in the suffocating silence, the Queen finally spoke.

“I only did what I should do and shouldn’t receive such grand treatment.” She gently tilted the wine cup downward. “Today, though I rescued the female official, I also lost another equally important person. For me, every friend, every life, every person is equal and equally important. This cup of wine is to wish that all who leave me may go well; may flowers bloom everywhere on their journey to heaven; may all who love me and whom I love live beautiful lives by my side or in corners of the world I don’t know, never having to face darkness, betrayal, or all the heartbreak and helplessness in life.”

She poured the wine on the ground, saying softly: “May there be no more pain and killing on the road to the underworld.”

The wind and snow scattered the wine’s fragrance across heaven and earth. In the flying white snow, her black hair spread out like a new black banner.

Everyone was moved, even the playful Seven Kills fell silent.

They hadn’t seen a frivolous woman returning victorious.

They had waited for a Queen in pain, sincerely mourning her dear friend.

After a moment, someone said softly: “May there be no more pain and killing in the world; may Your Majesty always keep your youth and happiness.”

At first only one person started, gradually more people joined in chorus, their voices gathering into waves, echoing again and again before the windy, snowy city.

“May there be no more pain and killing in the world; may Your Majesty always keep your youth and happiness.”

Tears gradually filled Jing Hengbo’s eyes, remembering that other snowy night when she had toyed with and provoked that man in Tianhui Valley.

She bowed slightly to thank the people, shedding her frivolity, now solemn and dignified.

On the city wall, Shangyuan’s garrison was also watching the scene below with emotion.

Shangyuan’s foremost general, Huang Gang, had originally been watching the scene below with cold laughter, thinking the Queen’s performance was clever but nothing more than a politician’s trick, feeling even more disgusted.

Change after change, they were all the same.

However, gradually he stopped his cold laughter, and later, hearing those low, repeated blessings, he actually felt his heart stirring.

After a long time, he gazed at the large “Ming” banner flying overhead and sighed softly.

“When the people’s hearts turn, the tide is unstoppable. This Daimao may truly be changing dynasties…”

…

In a hidden corner of the city wall, someone stood silently like a shadow, unnoticed by anyone.

“May all who love me and whom I love live beautiful lives by my side or in corners of the world I don’t know, never having to face darkness, betrayal, or all the heartbreak and helplessness in life.”

This passage flowed through his heart again and again.

Like the wind and snow now constantly beating against his thin silk garments.

For so long, she had swallowed her heartache and covered it with loud laughter. Only today did he hear her openly bare her heart.

And how deep that wound from that day had been.

Like the bloody wounds seeping in his heart at this moment.

These words carried her past pain and seemed to contain faint understanding. He didn’t dare be certain, only silently pulling his robes closer.

People who say too much are mostly because their inner thoughts aren’t deep enough.

But at this moment, he only wanted to repeat again and again:

“May I bear the pain and killing; may you always keep your youth and happiness.”

…

The people gradually dispersed, carrying the fatigue of waiting all night and the excitement of witnessing a miracle.

In the empty square before the city gate, only Jing Hengbo, Chai Yu, Zirui, and her ministers remained.

“You go back first. Rest well,” Jing Hengbo instructed Zirui and Chai Yu.

Zirui knew Jing Hengbo still needed to discuss Pei Shu’s matter with her subordinates, so she obediently walked toward the carriage that came to fetch them. Seeing Chai Yu standing there dazed, she pulled her along.

Chai Yu followed Zirui in a daze. When passing by Jing Hengbo, she seemed to stumble, and Jing Hengbo steadied her with her hand.

Chai Yu suddenly extended her arm, grabbing Jing Hengbo around the neck. Cold light flashed in her hand as a blade was pressed against her throat.

Everyone erupted in alarm. Zirui cried out: “Chai Yu, what are you doing!”

Seven Kills, Ying Bai, Yong Xue, and the others all rushed over, shouting continuously.

Chai Yu raised her head, tears streaming down her fat face covered in layers of flesh.

“Don’t come closer… don’t any of you come closer…” she said hoarsely. “Whoever comes closer… I’ll kill her…”

“Chai Yu!” Zirui didn’t dare move, shouting sternly: “How can you do this! The Queen trusted and treated you well, brought you into Shangyuan, surrounded by enemies, yet still brought you safely out of Shangyuan. How can you repay her like this!”

Ying Bai pointed his wine gourd from afar, staring at Chai Yu: “Release the Queen. Whatever demands you have, we’ll consider them. If you don’t know what’s good for you, be careful you’ll be left without even bones.”

“I knew this kid was a spy!” Yi Qi jumped up and down from far away. “I knew it!”

“You knew shit,” the six idiots cursed loudly. “How come we never heard you say so!”

“I said it in my sleep!”

…

Sweat rolled down Chai Yu’s forehead, and she bit her teeth without speaking.

Jing Hengbo showed no surprise, only sighing lightly: “Chai Yu, you truly disappoint me.”

Chai Yu’s face was wet all over—whether from sweat or tears was unclear.

She suddenly tightened her grip on Jing Hengbo, making her turn to face the distant Shangyuan city wall, and shouted loudly: “Huang Gang! Did you see! I’ve taken Queen Jing hostage—she’s about to die! Go tell Ming Yan’an that what he promised me must be done!”

On the city wall, Shangyuan’s general Huang Gang held the wall, saying in a deep voice: “Your Majesty the Consort. This general received orders that as long as the Queen’s death is confirmed, we will naturally welcome you back to Shangyuan and return to Yuehua Palace. Please rest assured.”

Uproar erupted below the city.

Everyone looked at Chai Yu with incredulous gazes—Your Majesty the Consort? This eight-chi-waisted, barrel-thick fatty was the Daimao Consort?

This was truly too subversive of everyone’s impression of royal women.

“Whether I return to Yuehua Palace or not, I don’t care,” Chai Yu said chokingly. “Make him swear an oath to establish Yue’er as heir apparent, to love and protect him for life, and never harm him again!”

“This general will convey Your Majesty the Consort’s request to the King,” Huang Gang on the wall replied unhurriedly, waving to signal soldiers to return to the city to report.

He gazed down at Chai Yu below, pity in his eyes. As Daimao’s chief general, he naturally knew this consort well. He had seen her astound Shangyuan with her poetry in her youth, seen her beauty move the capital in her jade years, seen her marry into the imperial family in phoenix crown and wedding robes, and finally seen her wither like a green tree in Yuehua Garden, seen her lose her looks and favor after struggling to bear a son, seen her fall from great favor to desolate circumstances. The dignified Daimao Consort was finally forced to infiltrate the enemy camp as a spy, walking into desperate straits beneath Shangyuan city.

This betrayal beneath the city, regardless of the outcome, meant she was already destined to have no way to live.

Ming Yan’an’s original condition was for her to kill Jing Hengbo outside Shangyuan city, both intimidating Daimao and doing no damage to his reputation.

As for her outcome, Ming Yan’an had never thought about it.

Despite having his own position, knowing the full story, he couldn’t help sighing inwardly: Your Majesty is too cold-hearted.

“Ming Yue… let me see Ming Yue,” Chai Yu wouldn’t give up. “I want to see that he’s safe!”

She had once decided not to act, to sincerely follow Jing Hengbo with her son, considering positions as consort and heir apparent nothing but empty dreams—peaceful days would be enough. Who knew fate would toy with people—Ming Yue was still poisoned, and for her son’s sake, she had no choice but to risk everything.

Huang Gang seemed to hesitate, then ordered soldiers to go report again. Everyone waited beneath the city.

Chai Yu was watched closely by Jing Hengbo’s subordinates. In this weather, she was soaked through with sweat, but her wrist remained steady. The blade in her hand was extremely thin, gleaming with a dark blue color—clearly the kind that could kill with just a scratch of oily skin. Everyone didn’t dare provoke her, afraid she might get overexcited and harm the Queen.

But Jing Hengbo was sighing softly: “Why? Why do this?”

“Your Majesty…” Chai Yu stared at the city wall, saying tremblingly: “I don’t ask for your forgiveness. In the next life, in the next life I’ll be your ox and horse…”

“Do you believe in the next life?” Jing Hengbo smiled. “If you can’t keep promises in this life, can you count on the next?”

Flesh trembled on Chai Yu’s face as she bit her teeth in pain without speaking.

“A woman’s obsession is sometimes truly hopeless,” Jing Hengbo sighed. “How Ming Yan’an treats you, you should know clearly yourself. If there were any affection, he wouldn’t force you to be a spy, wouldn’t let you suffer humiliation, wouldn’t let you fall to this state now. Do you think it’s worth it for this man?”

“I’m not doing this for him!” Chai Yu said firmly. “Only for my son!”

“Ming Yue is your son, right?” Jing Hengbo frowned. “Chai Yu, you’re a talented woman. Tell me, in my struggle with Ming Yan’an, who has better chances of winning?”

Chai Yu didn’t answer. Jing Hengbo smiled: “Your not answering shows you also know I’ll definitely win.”

“He has three hundred thousand soldiers and civilians. Shangyuan’s people are very fierce,” Chai Yu said. “You shouldn’t be too overconfident, or pride comes before a fall.”

“You seem to be reminding me,” Jing Hengbo smiled. “Thanks.”

Chai Yu pressed her lips together and lowered her eyelashes. Jing Hengbo’s attitude made her feel worse than being scolded or beaten.

“I’m not being proud—I’m confident I’ll take Shangyuan sooner or later,” Jing Hengbo said. “And Ming Yan’an can’t coexist with me. In the future, the so-called Daimao clan leader won’t exist, nor will Ming Yue’s position as heir apparent. Do you really want to sacrifice so much for something that won’t exist?”

“Ming Yue…” Chai Yu said tremblingly, “he was poisoned…”

Jing Hengbo hissed.

Even tigers don’t eat their cubs. That Ming Yan’an could do such things—she decided she’d definitely not give him a good death in the future.

“I’m despicable, shameless. I’ve betrayed my morals and principles. I’ve wasted all these years reading sage books,” Chai Yu said through tears. “But I don’t regret it… I only ask that all sins be borne by me—the child is innocent!”

“If he can treat you this way, treat Ming Yue this way, do you really think that after you die, he’ll treat Ming Yue well?” Jing Hengbo just wanted to say that even the smartest women have moments of confusion.

Suddenly weak crying came from the city wall, seeming to be a child’s voice. Chai Yu suddenly looked up and saw a small figure on the city wall in the distance, calling tremblingly: “Yue’er!”

Shangyuan’s city wall was extremely high—you couldn’t actually see faces clearly, but from the dress and age, it seemed to be Ming Yue. He was crying loudly on the wall, reaching toward the city below, apparently calling for mother.

Chai Yu’s whole body trembled, the dagger in her hand shaking constantly. Everyone watched nervously, afraid she might accidentally finish off Jing Hengbo.

“Your Majesty the Consort!” Huang Gang stood on the city wall, his face dark as water, shouting down: “Look, the heir apparent is perfectly safe! The King has this general tell you: as long as you kill the Queen, you’ll be Shangyuan’s hero, the King’s consort forever, enjoying the eternal gratitude of soldiers and civilians, eternal worship in ancestral temples. All three hundred thousand in Shangyuan, from top to bottom, will thank you for your grace for generations!”

“How generous and heroic,” Jing Hengbo sneered. “Not even wanting face anymore, so nakedly wanting his own woman to die.”

Chai Yu only heard the six words “the heir apparent is perfectly safe.” She stood on tiptoe, looking at the small figure on the city wall. Her tear-blurred eyes couldn’t see the face clearly, but the child could move and wave, so she felt that reaching this step was not in vain.

“I’m sorry… Your Majesty…” She painfully closed her eyes. “Don’t worry, after I act I’ll immediately kill myself. I only ask not to kill myself in front of Yue’er. I’ll go to the shadow of the city wall to atone with death…”

“Whether you kill yourself after acting is no longer important—no one will let you live anymore,” Jing Hengbo snorted.

Chai Yu was streaming with tears, unable to respond, and was about to thrust the blade forward.

Suddenly someone shouted loudly: “First see clearly who this really is!”

Then came a cry of alarm from above, followed by a child’s loud scream, then with a “whoosh,” a small figure had already fallen from the city wall.

“Yue’er!” Chai Yu’s heart and courage were both shattered. No longer caring about Jing Hengbo, she frantically rushed forward.

Her body was as heavy as a small mountain, but when she wildly rushed out now, she was actually as swift as a wild deer.

Suddenly a layer of sand and dust rose, blinding her eyes. She vaguely heard shouting and astonishment from above and below the city wall, seemingly including the sound of weapons clashing. Unable to see, she could only grope forward by memory. Just then, she heard a falling sound: “Bang.”

This sound was like a giant hammer falling on her heart. Her body stopped, and she spat out a mouthful of blood.

“Yue’er…” she called tremblingly, regardless of everything rubbing her eyes. Finally managing to rub the sand from her eyes, she opened her bloodshot eyes and immediately saw the small figure lying on the sandy ground ahead.

“Yue’er!” She screamed heartrendingly and rushed over like a madwoman, gathering that small body in her arms. “Yue’er ah Yue’er ah ah ah ah…”

She raised her head, her crying like weeping blood, breaking through the flying snow and yellow sand before the city like a sharp, bloody blade, striking against those cold iron armor. People on the city wall heard this bone-chilling sound and all shivered silently together.

She wailed once, then suddenly turned around, staring at Jing Hengbo’s group behind her.

“I took the Queen hostage—a terrible crime. Kill me if you want, but my son is innocent!” she shouted. “Why did you have to push him down from the city wall! Why!”

That group looked at her with strange expressions. Ying Bai was about to speak when Seven Kills beat him to it.

“You took the Queen hostage for your son, so killing your son settles it, right?”

“You’re guilty, so your son is naturally guilty too. Of course they should die together.”

“You’re dead, your son probably wouldn’t live long anyway. We’re helping you solve it together so you can keep each other company on the road to the underworld, haha.”

“No reason—just for fun, just because we feel like it!”

…

Chai Yu’s body went limp as she knelt against the city wall, holding that small body.

Above her head was her homeland, but she could never return; before her were friends she could have joined, but they had already become mortal enemies.

Around her, only this small corpse remained, along with sand everywhere and wind and snow overhead.

Life had reached this point and had little meaning left.

She suddenly laughed loudly, her laughter full of determination.