This battle was hailed as the fastest siege of a royal city in the history of Dahuang.

In legend, this scene was adapted into opera: “The Black Water Queen swings on her rope to capture the general, the Dragon Cavalry Commander intoxicates the entire city with wine arrows,” sung for eternity.

The people in the stories displayed remarkable schemes and unparalleled brilliance. But those who would reminisce about the elegance of the story’s characters in years to come would never know that the people within the story carried hearts full of worries, never seeking to become legends, only wishing to live in the present moment.

This battle quickly spread throughout the areas around Chentie. Almost every force that had been watching coldly from the sidelines felt their hearts skip a beat; every tribe that had been stirring restlessly now suppressed their impulses with solemn caution. The emerging queen’s power and her army had undergone their first baptism of war, delivering a brilliant performance. This caused many tribes and vassal states that had originally looked down on them with disdain to begin reassessing the Black Water Queen and seriously consider whether this was the right time to take advantage of her misfortune.

A beautiful battle could deter some of those with wavering intentions, but it could not stop the resolve of true enemies.

Across the tortoiseshell lands, angry horses galloped like dragons, black armor blocked out the sun, all advancing toward Chentie.

Ming Yan’an intensified his harassment of the three counties, hoping to swallow her rear support before Jing Hengbo’s return.

And in a hidden courtyard in Shangyuan City, Chai Yu accelerated her physical transformation. Each day brought a change. One morning, she again pushed a large stone from the small boat into the water—splash—the sound heavy and deep.

The river water reflected her face, and in the shimmering clear light, delicate features were already taking shape.

Across the tortoiseshell lands, undercurrents surged violently, fires of war spread everywhere, and heroes concentrated their attention, listening to that woman knock upon the city gates.

Jing Hengbo knocked upon the gates to enter the city, only to witness his army’s crushing defeat.

The city was in complete chaos. No one organized any effective resistance, there were no legendary barricades or fortifications, no soldiers organizing civilians to resist street by street in stubborn defense. The army was looting, civilians were crying out, and the closer to the central palace city, the more obvious the chaos became. On the streets before the palace gate square, she even saw many people who were obviously eunuchs and palace maids, clutching various bundles and fleeing in panic into the major streets and alleys. Even more palace servants were streaming out from the palace city, and the Imperial Guards who should have been stationed before the palace city were nowhere to be seen.

A scene of utter chaos.

She had only just entered the city, had not launched any attacks, nor ordered burning and killing throughout the city. This chaos was entirely Chentie’s own doing.

Jing Hengbo tapped her riding whip against her palm—from the looks of it, could the random shouting have actually hit the mark? Had something truly happened to Tie Fenglei?

The chaos had begun from within the palace, so she might as well directly occupy the royal palace first.

She immediately ordered her troops to find the royal city officials and inquire about the whereabouts of Tie Xinze and the others. They indeed confirmed that the three had been escorted into the palace.

When Jing Hengbo wanted to enter the palace, she again faced dissuasion from seasoned generals, all saying that Tie Xinze hadn’t been found yet, and Chentie’s army was only temporarily in great disorder—their organization hadn’t scattered. Entering the palace at this time would easily cause resistance and misunderstandings. Once Chentie’s armies assembled and blocked them inside the palace, they would be in trouble.

These were truly mature and prudent words. Everyone was nodding in agreement, only Jing Hengbo and the Seven Kills shook their heads. One said, “I’m not here to be queen, so why talk about taking everyone down in one sweep?” The other said, “If you come to a royal palace and don’t take a dump in the golden toilet, how can you call it victory?”

The Queen led her seven comedians whooshing away, while the generals gazed at the Queen’s retreating figure, all shaking their heads. They all felt that this time the Queen was repeatedly making foolish moves. Though she had always seemed undisciplined by nature, she had actually been very good at respecting her subordinates’ opinions in her actions. This time, however, her style had changed drastically. Could it really be that too many victories had made her young and impetuous, thinking that with her special abilities, she could traverse the world and take whatever she wanted?

The palace gates stood wide open. Jing Hengbo indeed still encountered no organized resistance. After questioning several palace servants, she learned that the king had been killed by ghosts, and the several leaders of the Imperial Guards had originally been at odds with each other. They immediately began arguing and fighting. Later they said the king was also dead, and the Chentie tribe no longer had any direct heirs. Everyone suddenly realized that whoever controlled military power and obtained the imperial seal could claim the throne. Now no one cared about the king’s corpse—they were all searching the palace and fighting over the imperial seal.

With developments reaching this point, even the generals were speechless with shock. Rushing all the way into the palace, they indeed found corpses everywhere, blood stains covering the courtyards, scattered clothing and embroidered shoes, palace consorts and beauties in panic. The faint sounds of shouting and killing came from the inner palace in waves, one disturbance after another without rest. The pitiful splendid imperial halls had been transformed into a bloody Asura field.

Jing Hengbo only focused on searching through the crowds for Tian Qi, Zirui, and Tie Xinze. Ying Bai was commanding for her anyway. For some unknown reason, Ying Bai had not ordered the soldiers to scatter and take advantage of the chaos for looting. Instead, he strictly ordered all units to stay together tightly, closely protecting the Queen from behind, and secured the various gates of the imperial palace. He captured palace servants who were spreading terrifying news everywhere and creating an atmosphere of terror, identified soldiers mixed in among the palace servants, and managed them all in unified confinement.

If one could view the Chentie royal palace from above at this moment, they would see a peculiar sight: crowds of people scurrying about like ants everywhere, several military units with identical uniforms and equipment engaged in close combat within the inner palace, while in the front hall, a military force moved like a massive red arrow, piercing straight into Chentie’s main hall.

Jing Hengbo finally discovered Tian Qi and Zirui in a palace lane near the rear palace. Those two also looked surprised and panicked, soaked through and in quite a sorry state.

When asked what exactly had happened and where Tie Xinze had gone, the two weren’t entirely clear either. Everything had occurred after they sank into the lake. Afterward, Tie Xinze had carried away the corpse and disappeared without a trace. They had heard that because he carried Tie Fenglei’s body, he was thought to have hidden the king’s imperial seal on his person, so he was taken away by the Imperial Guard commander. Now the deputy commander was together with several generals, preparing to either recapture Tie Xinze, or seize the imperial seal to become king themselves, or hold the emperor hostage to command the lords.

Jing Hengbo had no choice but to advance deeper into the inner palace and join the chaotic battle to snatch Tie Xinze. Because those people had triggered fighting in the rear palace, with the main battlefield in the inner palace, for her safety, all the generals had no choice but to bring everyone along to help the Queen rescue the person.

The dark mass of people headed straight for the rear palace. The sounds of battle ahead grew closer and closer. Jing Hengbo walked hurriedly while shaking her head, laughing with those beside her: “This really is a messy battle. If someone suddenly entered the city right now and blocked us in, we’d be finished.”

The generals glared angrily at the Queen—in such a dangerous battlefield, couldn’t she say something auspicious?

Ying Bai was still nodding: “Yes, forget about someone suddenly entering the city to block us. Even if Chentie’s internal military forces produced a strong leader who could integrate all the scattered units and launch a countercharge, we’d be trapped here to death as well.”

The generals turned to glare angrily at Ying Bai—you know this? You understand this? If you know and understand, why didn’t you dissuade the Queen whose brain was apparently squeezed by a door?

However, regardless of how many opinions they had, the boss’s word was still final, so everyone had to follow along.

To reach the inner palace battlefield, they had to pass through a narrow palace corridor. Jing Hengbo’s force was squeezed into a long snake, winding through the inner palace.

Suddenly, there was a thunderous explosion ahead. The sound shot straight into the clouds, and in an instant the earth shook and mountains trembled. Everyone’s ears rang with buzzing, and looking up they saw great clouds of dust rising. Before them, a magnificent hall with carved beams and decorative pillars was slowly collapsing in an eerie manner, causing the glazed tile walls throughout the entire lane to shake like soft bread trembling on a cutting board, visibly collapsing section by section…

“Retreat! Retreat!” Each unit captain immediately gave orders, their voices sharp and piercing through the current sounds of collapse.

This type of large building collapse would cause the surrounding walls to crumble section by section as well. At this time, the army was stretched out in a long snake formation, moving through the lanes. Not only would they easily be injured, but the entire force would immediately face being cut into segments.

Although Jing Hengbo’s army had been established for only a short time, those leading the troops were all exceptional people. Even in this situation, they remained panicked but not disordered. No one turned back or shouted wildly. The rear units quickly retreated, leaving maneuvering space for the front units.

But with this retreat, the distance between Jing Hengbo and her own forces also widened.

At this moment, her attention had already been captured by something ahead.

Just in that instant, in that moment of earth-shattering collapse, in the rising dust and smoke, she vaguely seemed to see a white figure flash by.

That white figure moved with an ethereal bearing, its steps having a peculiar rhythm like floating snowflakes. This posture startled her entire body into trembling.

She momentarily forgot the army behind her, forgot the danger ahead, forgot the ongoing struggles for power in this palace. Her figure flashed and she had already pierced through the dust and smoke, chasing after it.

Seeing her actually enter the collapsing great hall, everyone was greatly alarmed. But at one moment they needed to organize their forces, at another they needed to care for their soldiers, and they couldn’t match her speed. Before a cry of alarm could escape, the Queen’s figure had already disappeared into the billowing smoke and dust.

Seven figures flashed swiftly—the Seven Kills had already given chase, plunging into the rolling dust and smoke.

The great hall was still slowly collapsing. This kind of collapse was strange—rather than thunderously crashing down, it was as if someone had been hollowing out the foundation for a long time, slowly and gradually softening, so that everything within the hall was gradually twisting and deforming. Looking at it gave an eerie sense of space-time distortion.

Wisps of smoke rose in clusters, like drifting mist.

A figure flashed through the mist—Jing Hengbo appeared, stepping on a piece of clothing.

Her mind was in turmoil. She instinctively started to step over it, but her foot suddenly stopped. She bent down to pick up the garment and narrowed her eyes.

It was a blue-black eunuch’s robe.

Seeing eunuch robes here wasn’t strange at all, but the problem was that Chentie’s eunuch robes were red.

Blue with black trim—that was the eunuch attire of the Dige imperial palace.

How could such clothing appear here?

Her fingers trembled slightly. She suddenly lifted the robe and held it to her nose to smell it.

What entered her nostrils was a faint cool scent, along with some medicinal smell, and an extremely subtle hint of blood. That smell was at the chest area.

Her fingers trembled even more violently.

After quite a while, she held up the robe and loosely compared it to judge the height, then compared the position of those faint bloodstains.

The chest area, near the heart.

Her hand shook and the robe fell. She hurriedly reached out to catch it, her arm suddenly somewhat stiff and numb. Her blood flow seemed to suddenly become sluggish in that instant.

With a thunderous crash, half a wall collapsed behind her, nearly hitting her heels, but she seemed completely unaware.

Gravel and broken stones rolled everywhere on the ground, grinding against either her boots or her heart.

She suddenly wrapped up the eunuch robe and tied it around her waist, then continued forward.

The white figure was gone, but she had more mysteries waiting to be answered.

Or perhaps today, in this palace of blood and fire, in this collapsing great hall, she could get a complete answer.

Her footsteps made soft sounds, mixing with the sounds of overturning sand and stones. The Seven Kills’ shouts could be heard faintly, but she didn’t want to respond.

At this moment, she didn’t want to be dragged out of this great hall and lose what might be her only chance to investigate the truth.

With another thunderous crash ahead, half a crossbeam collapsed, sand and stones rolling down, and something else seemed to fall with them.

Her figure flashed and she caught the object in her hand.

It was a mask.

A clay Earth God mask, already split in two, with mottled marks cracked above the lip area, making it look as if it were laughing broadly.

Laughing at what?

Laughing at the world’s foolish obsession, the difficulty of distinguishing truth from falsehood.

This mask had been worn on Tian Qi’s face, had been torn off by her. She had cracked the mask but failed to tear open the truth.

The mask was rough, abrading her palm. What ached slightly was her heart.

She stared blankly for a long while before wrapping the mask in the clothing and continuing forward.

The vibrations from the collapse created swirling winds, and something was blown toward her. She reached out and caught it.

It was another piece of clothing.

Another eunuch robe.

Lotus blue with white trim, about the same size as the previous one. She took a deep breath.

She shouldn’t have remembered, but at this moment she suddenly recalled—this was what she had seen in the Xiang Kingdom royal palace, eunuch clothing.

Once, someone wearing this robe had knelt sitting across from her, gently fastening her belt for her.

At that time, his lotus-blue robe hem had draped beside her knees, the white trim blending with the moonlight into one color.

Lifting the robe to smell it again, this time the garment carried musty odors, dust smells, bitter scents, and a trace of extremely faint cinnabar fragrance.

At the hem of the robe, she found many red clay spots, very tiny. She scraped a bit with her fingernail and smelled it.

Then she found the familiar scent in her memory.

That day of crawling and struggling, clay and mud from the elixir furnace staining her entire body.

The robe was unconsciously kneaded in her palms, and her heart also seemed to fall into a furnace, mixed with mercury and cinnabar, smelted with blazing flames, refining a nine-times-refined truth elixir that would turn her intestines inside out.

She also put away this robe, tying it on the other side of her waist.

She continued forward.

A screen crashed down with a “thud,” and a piece of clothing on the screen fell into her view.

It was a hooded black tight-fitting outfit, the common attire of wandering thieves.

The clothing smelled of mud and straw, with slight burn marks on one corner.

Once, someone had said he was a tomb robber, who dug tunnels to the royal palace to take refuge, and spent a day and night with her.

At that time, he wore all black tight-fitting clothes, with a hood covering his features completely.

Remove that layer of disguise and see the truth clearly.

Something was fluttering overhead—it was a gray, completely unremarkable piece of clothing.

But that garment had a mask on it, an ordinary half-mask with bloodstains on the edges. This mask had been worn by Pei Shu during the tournament for marriage.

The arrogant Pei Shu, after his comeback, had kicked an iron plate when a gray-clothed person tore off his mask and gave him an unforgettable lesson.

That mask had been discarded by Pei Shu at the time. What kind of thoughtful person had picked it up?

…

A wine flask rolled to her feet with a “clang”—flat and not large, with a dented spout, a familiar shape.

She crouched down to carefully examine the flask. If she remembered correctly, this flask belonged to “Ying Bai” when they first met in the Zhanyu tribe. “Ying Bai” had fought a great battle with Pei Shu, from inside Yin Wuxin’s house to outside, and it had been broken in the fighting.

Later, that “Ying Bai” rarely carried a wine flask. Even later, after leaving the hot springs, Ying Bai carried a flask again, but had changed to a much larger one.

Rather than changing flasks, it was more like changing people.

…

Suddenly there was a sharp whistling sound overhead. She dodged to the side, and with a “thwack,” something embedded in the ground before her.

The front end was a tube section, the back was shovel-shaped.

In the cemetery of Qifeng Town, at the Thirteen Guardians’ secret base, that white-haired zombie had handed her such a shovel.

Dig a hole, use the tunnel. There she had learned the secrets of the Three Gates and Four Alliances, and had also planted an unsolvable secret in her heart.

…

A creaking sound—something seemed to have broken behind the hall.

She turned behind the hall and saw an overturned cabinet that had smashed something unknown. A wooden wheel protruded from under the cabinet.

This room was dim and shadowy, containing a puppet dressed in blue robes with smooth long hair, but wearing a mask on its face.

A half silver mask.

She stared at the puppet for a long while, then slowly walked over.

The sounds of collapse thundered, but couldn’t mask the soft footsteps—not steps moving forward, but steps moving backward in time, retracing the past step by step, telling herself how close she had once been to the truth.

She stepped through the mud and dust, hearing what seemed like the sound of her heart being ground down.

The exquisite silver mask gleamed faintly in the darkness, its corners seeming to hold a mysterious smile.

She gently lifted the silver mask. Underneath was another mask—a human skin mask.

She lifted that mask again. Underneath was yet another mask.

Because the puppet was black and the mask was white, the seam of this mask was particularly clear.

At the chest area.

She stared at that black and white line across the chest, her body suddenly trembling finely, like a leaf in the wind.

Once, her fingers had lingered over that mask, just a line away from being able to lift the third layer.

Had she not discovered it, or had her heart vaguely sensed it but she dared not, would not, refused to admit it?

Refused to admit that all those many passersby, all those people who inexplicably treated her well, were all him, all him.

In that escape tunnel, after taking her stab and not going to heal, waiting there, struggling to carry her on his back, guiding her to Gentleman Mu and the new world—that old eunuch. It was him.

In the night wind of Xiang Kingdom, switching identities with Tian Qi, accompanying her on the rooftop to eavesdrop on Yélu Qi and Fei Luo’s nighttime conversation. It was him.

Before the Hewen sleeping quarters, under Yong Xizhen’s killing intent, taking her away, bringing her to that underground secret chamber with the elixir furnace, using a fake fight to trick her into eating that legendary royal golden elixir—that eunuch. It was him.

In the Xiang Kingdom prison, appearing as a tomb robber who had dug the wrong hole, emerging from underground covered in mud, neutralizing the poison attack in her body and soothing the volatile nature of the golden elixir—that black-clothed man. It was him.

On the marriage tournament stage, giving Pei Shu an unforgettable lesson—that gray-clothed man. It was him.

Pursuing her to the Zhanyu tribe, accompanying her and Zhan Xin in battles of wit and courage in the medicinal hot springs—that Ying Bai. It was him.

In the underground tunnels of Qifeng Town cemetery, dragging her into coffins, accompanying her to break into secret chambers, helping her learn many underworld secrets—that white-haired zombie. It was him.

That sometimes gentle, sometimes indifferent, sometimes familiar, sometimes strange, sometimes near, sometimes distant Gentleman Mu—one of them was him.

No, there were more than just these versions of him.

In the Xiang Kingdom wealthy household’s courtyard, knocking her unconscious and healing her wounds. It was him.

Taking her ring and transforming it into a collar ornament. It was him.

In the Zhanyu tribe, entering her room at night to quietly watch her sleep. It was him.

Accompanying her throughout the carriage journey discussing the great situation of the tortoiseshell underworld. It was him.

At Danling Mountain, a cloak-wearing figure creating life-threatening thunder and rain, the first time making her confused about Gentleman Mu’s identity. It was him.

Under pursuit by the Nine Heavens Gate, protecting her with his life. It was him.

In the countryside, the fake groom who married her as his fake bride. It was him.

On the Qu River, composing poetry with spear in hand, escorting her all the way—Wei Yin. It was him.

On the theater stage in Shangyuan City, singing the Taoist sentiment “In these thirty thousand li of heaven and earth, one bell tolls; all things confused, still within a dream.” It was him.

In the underground of Shangyuan royal palace, sucking out bloody phlegm. It was him.

In the Ningxue Pavilion private room, measuring and embracing her in dance. It was him.

…

It was him, it was him, it was him.

She held those clothes and masks, standing in the great hall where mud, ash, and smoke fell rustling, looking up in all directions. Around her, figures came and went, shapes shifting—all countless versions of him.

Changing countless appearances, concealing that cool nature, altering voice, breath, even height and body temperature… one person with a thousand faces, secretly hidden divine traces, not being his original self, using countless versions of himself to confuse her.

Those fragments of suspicion were pearls scattered along the road, only today before this ruined hall were they completely strung together.

She had thought perhaps part of it was him, but still dared not believe that all of it was him.

The world spun, light and shadow reversed. In the torrents of collapse were reflections of their journey through time, his shadows everywhere, layer upon layer overlapping with the snow and blood before Yuzhao Palace that year.

That night, his and her blood fell on the snow like peach blossoms.

This journey, her and his memory footprints companioned each other across the world in complexity.

How to face herself, how to explain all of this?

She raised her face, receiving a hall full of rustling dust, but couldn’t wash away the haze on her heart or the fog before her eyes, couldn’t retrieve her soul.

“Why!”

Her great shout startled falling stones. Before another half crossbeam thundered down, her figure flashed and she was on the hall roof.

Just as she steadied herself, another rumbling sound arose—distant from the royal palace but no less imposing than the commotion beneath her feet.

She looked up and gazed into the distance.

Ahead, beyond the square, streets stretched like blood vessels, people flowed like blood, shifting from the previous outward flow to inward movement. At the other end of the city, the faint sound of thousands of horses’ hooves could be heard, shaking the earth.

It seemed to be from the direction of the city gates.

She looked down to see her own army still in the palace, divided into pieces by the narrow crisscrossing palace corridors and collapsed palace walls.

In the farther distance, several riders could be seen galloping wildly toward them, their horses’ heads adorned with green feathers—those were the scout units left with the rear guard, responsible for controlling the overall city situation.

For the scout units to be racing so fiercely through the streets meant they must be bringing extremely urgent military intelligence.

But there was no need to guess, because not far behind the scout units, she could already see several torrents rolling toward them.

There were yellow-black Chentie army units, and a large mass of pure black cavalry. Though they bore no insignia, the coordinated and fierce riding movements of those horsemen, their posture of leaning slightly forward while galloping, and their familiar aura of furious horses entering like dragons when passing through streets—all told her these were Kanglong forces.

After she had advanced alone with her army and trapped herself within the Chentie royal palace, the Kanglong army that had been hiding to one side had finally joined forces with the Chentie army and blocked her within the city.

From the scale of armies converging from all directions, the combined numbers of these forces should be nearly fifty thousand strong.

Fifty thousand against ten thousand, encirclement against an isolated army, advantageous terrain against disadvantageous position. Strong enemies without, resistance within.

Heaven’s timing, earth’s advantages, people’s harmony—at this moment all were unfavorable to her.

A desperate situation.

She had finally trapped herself in a desperate situation.

She suddenly burst into loud laughter.

The soldiers below had just begun to sense something was wrong when they heard the wild laughter—laughing with abandon yet seeming sorrowful. Looking up, they saw the Queen in red robes like fire, holding a large bundle of clothing, standing on the half-tilted hall roof. The ruined great hall blocked the setting sun, and her blood-red figure connected with the evening clouds, half her robe hem caught by the wind, sweeping across her face and dancing with her black hair.

Beautiful in its deadly solemnity.

Yet everyone inexplicably felt suddenly desolate.

Usually they saw her beautiful as lustrous jade and colored glass, but at this moment they seemed to see ancient jade stained with blood—warmth backed by profound vicissitudes.

Jing Hengbo paid no attention to the crowd crying out in alarm below.

She gazed at the surging enemies, facing the earth, facing the evening clouds and setting sun, facing this vast world’s incomprehensible void, slowly extending both hands.

That large bundle of clothing fell from her arms.

Her posture standing on high with arms extended was like trying to embrace this twilight sunset, calling for the eternal night to stop, seeking one bright and brilliant sunny day.

…

Gong Yin.

I have many questions I want answered.

I have much love and hate for which I want to hear echoes.

I have waited in confusion for too long, stumbling on twisted paths, constantly encountering helping hands yet never touching real fingertips.

I don’t want to continue walking in chaos. I don’t want this life’s love or hate to transform into illusory clouds in empty confusion.

I transferred the battlefield a thousand li to rush to a foreign country.

Step by step, I sealed off my own retreat.

I foolishly charged into the Chentie palace.

All for this moment—a thousand armies surrounding me.

I have trapped myself in desperate straits.

I have confined myself within these high-walled palace courts.

Gong Yin.

If we must meet, it must wait for that instant of life and death.

Then let me enter this dead corner myself, placing the blade in my hand against my own throat.

Gong Yin.

Life and death are in this moment.

To avoid again would be my death.

Will you come or not?

Will you come or not?