From somewhere in the distance came the fierce, roaring tumult of battle. His heart lurched; he gripped the battlements and looked down —

Chen Baoxiang’s pale celadon-colored outfit was striking even against the darkness of night. One hand raising a great battle standard, the other gripping a long dao, she was in the thick of the fighting, more than thirty zhang beyond the city gate.

“You cannot even defeat me — and you dare demand to see Her Highness?!”

Her voice rang out like thunder, carrying in all four directions.

The overwhelming force of her presence drove the dark tide of enemy soldiers back several more zhang.

Zhang Zhixu stared in disbelief.

The soldiers flanking Chen Baoxiang consisted of the small number of troops the Grand Princess had assigned her, plus some city defense soldiers drawn from who knew where — a scattered assortment that amounted to no more than a thousand men in total.

The black mass of enemies before them should, by all logic, have had the far superior presence.

Yet wherever Chen Baoxiang’s battle standard swept, the soldiers behind her fought as though they had no regard for their own lives — one fell, and another charged forward to take their place. Blades notched, swords snapped in two, and still they drove forward with growing ferocity.

Against all expectation, they had pinned the enemy back and held them there.

The fighting was fierce. Bodies and injured soldiers had already piled up across the field — and yet the battle line had not yet reached the city gate itself.

Which meant that for more than half a shichen, Song Juqing had failed to break through Chen Baoxiang’s defense.

Clearly growing desperate, the enemy began massing for a second assault. Chen Baoxiang’s side, though holding the line in spirit, was sustaining heavy losses in numbers — it seemed as though she intended to fight with her back against the wall to the bitter end.

Fortunately, the reinforcements he had brought burst through the city gate and pushed to her support just in time.

In the pitch-dark night, the enemy could only hear the thunderous shouts — they had no way to estimate how many had come. For a moment, they faltered.

Chen Baoxiang’s eyes blazed bright. She seized the opening instantly, riding hard and alone toward a heavily guarded position deep in the enemy line.

Blood misted the air. Song Juqing had no choice but to spur his horse out from within the protection of his surrounding guard.

“A woman.” He stared in shock and bewilderment. “What name do you go by?”

Chen Baoxiang raised her dao and grinned. “No name worth mentioning yet — but I’ll have one after tonight.”

Without another word, she urged her horse forward, dao sweeping down in a strike.

The two commanders clashed directly. With no one else pressing in, Song Juqing met her blade for blade, and after only a few exchanges, sweat was flying and his sword was trembling — and he knew immediately that his opponent was not to be taken lightly.

He steadied himself and focused, and before long identified Chen Baoxiang’s weakness: her weapon was of cheap make — the blade brittle.

On his next move, he put his full strength behind it. His fine sword split her blade clean through, sending her whole person tumbling from the saddle.

“This is bad,” Zhao Huaizhu said from the city tower, so anxious she was rising on her toes. “You cannot fall from the horse!”

Looking at the positions of both forces, falling to the ground put Chen Baoxiang in a dead-end. The situation had tilted sharply against her.

A city defense soldier watching nearby muttered, “Who starts a duel and falls from their horse right away — it’s over, she’s going to lose her head and—”

The last word never made it out. The figure that had fallen hit the ground and sprang back up in the same motion, vaulting to the rear flank of Song Juqing’s horse. Her hands moved like thunder — she seized both hind legs and hurled the animal to the side.

The horse screamed. Its body crashed to the earth, dust billowing in every direction.

Song Juqing rolled clear, clutching his leg in astonishment.

How was this woman so impossibly strong.

Not only strong, but bold. She had thrown aside her broken blade and was pressing in for close quarters combat, despite swords being drawn on all sides around her.

“A madwoman.” That was Song Juqing’s first assessment of her.

After a dozen close-range exchanges, having taken several of her punches himself, Song Juqing arrived at his second assessment. “Did you grow up eating rocks?”

Chen Baoxiang wasted no words at all. Every move she made went straight for the kill — aiming to capture the ringleader first and foremost, willing to take injuries herself if it meant wringing his neck.

Song Juqing was gradually losing his footing. He twisted aside to dodge one of her strikes, then used the opening to retreat, kicking one of his own men off a horse and vaulting back into the saddle.

Chen Baoxiang, seeing this, wheeled back onto her own horse as well.

Song Juqing assumed the two of them would now pull apart and leave the fighting to their respective soldiers.

Instead, the woman across from him drew a long breath, and then — impossibly — turned her horse’s head, drew herself up, and bellowed, “Go!”

The warhorse obeyed, exploding forward in a full charge straight at him.

There was no tactic in this at all.

Song Juqing almost laughed despite himself. “We’re both in the court’s service — what are you throwing your life away for?!”

She did not hear him. She came on with furious momentum, every ounce of her intent fixed on ending this with both of them going down together.

When two forces meet head-on, the one with the bolder heart prevails.

Song Juqing cursed under his breath, wheeled his horse, and retreated back into the formation.

His retreat sent the soldiers behind him into immediate panic. Hooves stumbled over one another, and the army’s will began to fracture.

“Tear through them!” Chen Baoxiang roared.

At that, a tide of battle cries erupted from every direction and swept everything before it.

The enemy commanders saw how things stood and immediately urged Song Juqing to pull back. Song Juqing was furious, but he could read the situation clearly enough — to press on now would only mean greater losses.

“All forces, fall back!”

The dark mass of covert soldiers began to withdraw, silent and soundless as they had come.

Chen Baoxiang reined in her horse, dao drawn horizontally, eyes fixed and unblinking on the direction of their retreat.

The swarming mass grew steadily fainter across the open plain. The wind swept through the emptiness, and at last the moon emerged.

Clear white moonlight fell across the red-pooled earth and shimmered.

“Director, shall we not pursue?” Wang Wu asked, still flushed with the heat of battle, bright-eyed with excitement.

Chen Baoxiang shook her head.

The gate had been held — but the losses on her side were staggering. So staggering she could not bring herself to look back.

Every single one of these soldiers had trusted her, had followed her out of the city to meet the enemy head-on. She had known the numbers were stacked against them and had fought to the last all the same — whether that had been right or wrong, she no longer knew. How could she now chase down a retreating foe?

“Record the casualties and make a proper account. Then come with me to report to Her Highness.” Even her voice had fallen — carrying the low rasp left behind by hours of fighting and shouting.

Wang Wu could not understand why she looked so unhappy when they had won, but scratched her head and began calling the soldiers to fall back.

Chen Baoxiang gathered the battle standard in silence, turned her horse back toward the city in silence.

When she was nearly beneath the city gate, something moved inside her, and she looked up.

High atop the city tower, Zhang Zhixu stood in his long pale celadon robes, his sleeves billowing and lifting in the wind.

He was looking at her — with burning intensity and complete certainty — a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, his eyes full of reverence.

Reverence?

Chen Baoxiang thought for a moment she was seeing things. When would Zhang Fengqing ever show an expression like that?

But she looked again, and his gaze had not changed — he stood perfectly still, indifferent to however many people were watching him.

She was always the one teasing him, making the back of his neck flush red. This was the first time — Chen Baoxiang felt the tips of her own ears warm slowly beneath his gaze.

She tucked the standard under her arm and entered the city at a brisk pace, finished giving orders for her soldiers to continue holding the wall, then went and pulled him down from the tower.

“Why did you come?”

“It was too dark. I was afraid you’d lose your way.” He let out a slow breath. “So I came myself to fetch you.”

With that, he looked her over once, and gave a single, satisfied nod. “Director Chen truly does as she says.”

No obvious wounds this time, and she looked alert. The grip on his wrist was still quite strong.

Zhang Zhixu felt a warmth bloom in his chest.

This was the first time he had watched her fight with his own eyes. She had been magnificent — brave and brilliant all at once. There was no one else in the world like her, so full of both courage and wits. She had even thought to light the beacon fires ahead of time.

Once the beacon fires of Shangjing were lit, it meant rebel forces had appeared outside the walls. Regardless of whose orders Song Juqing carried, a covert night assault was a name without legitimacy behind it — and once word spread, he would be treated as a rebel army whether he was one or not.

The Grand Princess could seize on that opportunity to launch an offensive against the palace.

“Truly remarkable.” He patted her on the back and praised her in earnest.

Chen Baoxiang blinked, her mood lightening a little. “Were you watching for a long time from up there?”

“Yes.”

“Were you captivated by me?”

“Only natural.”

She laughed, and the two of them mounted up together and started back — but had not gone far before they met a dispatch rider.

“I have to make a stop near the palace walls.” Zhang Zhixu received the message. “Go report to Her Highness on my behalf.”

“All right.” Chen Baoxiang glanced at Shangjing, its walls ringed with the glow of beacon fires, and pressed her lips together. “You also come back in one piece.”