Cheng Huaili watched the situation below and remained seated with composure.

Chen Baoxiang’s forces were insufficient — they could hold on for a while, but couldn’t break through. The longer the two sides were deadlocked, the more advantageous it was for him.

But a subordinate came rushing up, pale as ash: “General, the western flank of Mokou Town is also under heavy assault.”

The western flank?

“Trouble — this front here is probably just a feint.” Song Juqing said. “I said something seemed off with how few people they brought. They were heading for the western flank all along.”

They had concentrated their main forces at the town entrance today in anticipation of the enemy, leaving the western flank extremely vulnerable.

“Master, if they seize that terrain advantage, I’m afraid……”

Cheng Huaili turned to look at him: “Are you secretly hoping she captures Mokou Town so she can drag me off to be executed by a thousand cuts?”

“Of course not.” Song Juqing lowered his gaze. “I naturally stand on Master’s side.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re scheming in that head of yours.” Cheng Huaili gave a cold laugh. “If I hadn’t come looking for you, you’d probably be sleeping easy right now.”

Song Juqing bowed his head and listened, barely disputing anything, his expression appearing quite respectful.

Yet down below, that seemingly impregnable cavalry camp was, in the blink of an eye, torn open by Chen Baoxiang.

“Master, run.” Meng Tianxing said through gritted teeth. “This is no place to linger.”

Cheng Huaili was lifted and carried down from the watchtower. With over a thousand soldiers still blocking the way ahead, as long as he could make it into the town before Chen Baoxiang cut through, he would be safe.

However, Chen Baoxiang seemed to sense something.

Amid the thousand-strong melee, she suddenly lifted her head, drawing her bow to a full draw.

The sound of a feathered arrow cleaving the air arrived like a sharp crack.

Cheng Huaili was being carried by two men and, even having seen that ice-cold arrowhead, could not move.

On instinct, he grabbed one of the men carrying him to use as a shield.

One arrow through the chest — the soldier collapsed dead, and the hands gripping the wheelchair suddenly went limp.

“Master!” Meng Tianxing was horrified, struggling and clutching the railing to look down.

Cheng Huaili tumbled down the steps along with his wheelchair, jolting and crashing, and landed sprawled in the dirt.

The remaining soldiers scrambled forward to help him up.

A second feathered arrow arrived without warning, piercing straight through Cheng Huaili’s raised palm and pinning his right hand to the tower wall behind him.

Blood splattered in all directions. A howl of agony erupted.

Meng Tianxing broke out in goosebumps all over.

He recalled the terrifying look in Chen Baoxiang’s eyes when she had smashed his leg, and the head he had stretched out quickly retracted.

“Senior Brother Song.” He asked, trembling with fear. “With all the troops we have, we can’t actually lose to Chen Baoxiang, can we?”

Song Juqing gave a lazy yawn: “She’s quite formidable.”

“Then what do we do? If we fall into her hands again, both Master and I are dead for certain!”

“Is that so.” Song Juqing looked down with an air of indifference.

After firing her two arrows, Chen Baoxiang had been pulled away by close-quarters attackers and had not been able to loose any more shots at Cheng Huaili.

A bit of a pity.

Still, the woman remained as reckless as ever — even with nothing but black-armored cavalry in front of her, she still dared to charge ahead with her head down.

At this rate, Mokou Town would fall within five days.

He didn’t mind helping her shave two days off that estimate.

“General, Cheng Huaili has flown into a rage below and demands you bring your men into the town to meet with him immediately.” A soldier came to report.

Song Juqing acknowledged this and, after a good long while, strolled leisurely downward.

·

Xu Buran discovered that Chen Baoxiang was remarkably skilled at siege warfare.

Many deployments that he couldn’t quite comprehend while watching proved to be remarkably smooth in execution, not only effectively compensating for the disparity in their forces, but also using clever ingenuity to solve the problem of Mokou Town’s difficult terrain.

On the third day of their push, Mokou Town was breached from within and without.

Charging into the town alongside her, Xu Buran finally understood why so many people were utterly devoted to her.

Who wouldn’t love a leader who could carry you to victory and always shared the rewards?

But this battle seemed somewhat different from the ones before. He sensed an agitation emanating from Chen Baoxiang.

Even during the siege on Tianning Mountain, this woman had never shown such a feeling. Now, with victory within reach and their momentum unstoppable, she seemed unable even to steady her breathing, and her hands were ever so slightly trembling.

Was it nerves? No, that wasn’t it. Sorrow? That didn’t seem right either.

Xu Buran wanted to ask, but Chen Baoxiang was charging straight ahead with singular focus and gave him no opportunity.

“Baoxiang, he’s escaped — he took a secret passage.” Zhao Huaizhu said urgently.

Chen Baoxiang went over to examine the entrance to the hidden tunnel.

Cheng Huaili had left similar secret passages in the border garrison city too — labyrinthine inside, but with only one exit. Without a map, going in rashly would spring traps.

She turned her eyes toward the direction of the setting sun.

In winter the wind was cold, and at sunset it turned bitingly desolate and bleak.

Cheng Huaili was carried out through the exit of the secret passage into open wilderness stretching in every direction.

He sucked in a frantic breath and looked back with reluctance.

“General, Lord Song is holding the rear. This is no place to linger — let’s go quickly.” A subordinate urged.

Cheng Huaili came to himself and nodded. Yes, he had to return to the border garrison — only there were people who were truly loyal to him, and only there could he be completely safe.

The wheelchair creaked and groaned as it was pushed forward. Occasional pits in the ground nearly sent him jolting out of it.

Cheng Huaili gripped the armrests, disheveled and vexed.

In the light of the setting sun, his shadow looked like a torn and tattered rag, cast crookedly across the grass — nothing remained of the proud, triumphant bearing he had once possessed returning from battle in glory.

Bitter resentment, and nothing he could do about it.

The rag-shadow helplessly continued to inch forward with the motion of the wheelchair.

Inch by inch, it suddenly ran into a pair of black cloud-pattern boots.

Cheng Huaili’s eyelid gave a twitch, and he stiffly raised his head.

Before his eyes, Chen Baoxiang stood right in front of him. In her hand she held an old dagger, which she was idly cleaning of rust with her sleeve, turning it over and back again.

Her brows and eyes bore every trace of Chen Yuan’er’s likeness, yet there was not a shred of frailty or helplessness in her expression. The corner of her eye swept over him — cold and detached, as if regarding a dead man.

“You?” His pupils contracted sharply. “How did you know I was here?”

“Wanting to return to the border garrison city?” She answered his question with a question, tugging the corner of her mouth gently upward. “Do you think you lost to me because the terrain wasn’t in your favor?”

“Stop playing dumb when you know perfectly well!” Cheng Huaili, with nowhere left to retreat, finally erupted in fury. “If Song Juqing, that treacherous wretch, hadn’t defected in the middle of battle, how could I have possibly lost to a little brat like you!”

Chen Baoxiang raised an eyebrow: “Wasn’t Song Juqing your most prized disciple? How could he betray you?”

“Because……” Cheng Huaili started to speak, then felt the shame of it and clamped his mouth shut.

“——Because he was taught by you, so he resembles you most.” Chen Baoxiang finished lightly on his behalf. “Isn’t defecting in the middle of battle your own specialty?”

The cold-gleaming dagger pressed against his chest. Cheng Huaili’s whole body went rigid, and he called out hoarsely: “Baoxiang.”

He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live.

“That name was given to me by Grandmother Ye. You are not worthy to call it.”

Chen Baoxiang was unmoved. Her left hand struck like lightning, seizing him hard by the throat, while her right wrist twisted — and the dagger plunged into his only remaining leg.

The scream that erupted was sharp as a coarse blade scraping iron, then in the drawn-out agony it dissolved into the ragged, drowning rasp of a hoarse, choked sob.