“Cang Cang!” As Xiao Huan’s cry reached my ears, a Cyan blade shadow moved even faster through that crimson expanse, with clashing sword lights falling to the ground amid resonating rings.

Before the cold blade could strike, that crimson longsword was knocked away by the broad blade that shot out from beside me. Both weapons flew away simultaneously, only embedding themselves in the ground ten feet away with a sharp “ping.”

In that critical moment, it was Xiao Huan who had seized a broad blade from an imperial guard’s horse and knocked away E’sen’s thrown longsword.

With paleness from shock and anger on his face, Xiao Huan’s deep pupils shot forth a cold light: “E’sen, you’re being reckless.”

I took a deep breath, still not fully recovered from the shock. Just now, E’sen had suddenly thrown his longsword at me with such speed and unexpectedness. Though I couldn’t say I would have been completely unable to avoid it if Xiao Huan hadn’t quickly blocked that sword with the blade, I would inevitably have been wounded.

E’sen showed no concern that his strike had missed, throwing back his head in laughter: “Oh? Then how does Emperor Deyou intend to punish me?”

Gaze slightly focused, Xiao Huan paused only briefly before raising his hand to point at E’sen’s fallen sword over ten feet away: “Pick up your sword.”

After a moment’s confusion, I suddenly realized: “Brother Xiao!”

He turned to look at me, smiling reassuringly: “It’s alright, Cang Cang.”

Though he said this, I was still extremely anxious. Seeing him calmly dismount, I hurriedly got down as well and rushed to grab his waist: “Brother Xiao, don’t!”

Over there, E’sen had already dismounted and retrieved his sword. Holding it in one hand, he wore a smile as he watched us with great interest.

Ignoring his smile’s faint mockery and spectator-like expression, I only wanted to stop Xiao Huan beside me.

His earlier words suggested… he intended to face E’sen in combat… Not to mention his inner force was long gone, his current body absolutely couldn’t withstand such strain.

Shiyan and Hong Qing, holding their swords while standing by their horses, also looked alarmed but dared not speak without Xiao Huan’s command, anxiously watching our direction.

Wrapping his arm around my shoulders and patting lightly, Xiao Huan looked down at me with a smile: “Cang Cang, I know my limits.”

The panic in my heart slightly settled at his calm voice. I didn’t doubt Xiao Huan’s ability to subdue E’sen, nor did I think he would act rashly, but those feelings of potentially losing him from years ago seemed carved into my bones. Last time, when Su Qian’s poisoned dart was merely knocked away in front of him, I had already felt like I’d been through hell, left with only a bone-deep chill. Now he wanted to face E’sen alone…

Looking at me with a smile, his voice still carried that gentle warmth, but held an undeniable tranquility: “Cang Cang, just wait for me here.” Looking down at me with a smile, he gently squeezed my hand, “Don’t worry.”

He was always like this—no matter how much others worried or opposed, he could always make them trust him.

Even though he had been far removed from the martial world and killing for so many years, even though the legendary Bai Chifan of the past had become a distant legend.

When he looked at me like this, I still couldn’t argue.

Raising my head, I smiled back at him, released his hand, took a light breath, and stepped aside.

He raised his head slightly, nodding to Hong Qing: “Hong Qing, may I borrow your sword?”

Hong Qing, equally worried, wiped his face and walked past E’sen’s side, presenting his sword to Xiao Huan with both hands, finally adding in a low voice: “Your Majesty, please be careful.”

Taking the sword from Hong Qing with one hand, his slender fingers traced the raised dragon patterns on the blade. With a slight turn of his wrist, Xiao Huan had drawn the sword.

Like the Yingguang that Shiyan used in years past, Hong Qing’s sword was also Biye, one of the famous swords passed down from the four founding families. True to its name, the blade was as green as the wilderness, clear enough to reflect one’s image.

In the clearing where the cold wind suddenly rose, standing sideways with his Cyan robe’s hem flying in the wind, Xiao Huan didn’t raise his head to look at E’sen across from him. His fingers lightly stroked the green-tinted blade in his hand as his voice rang cold and clear: “Thirty years ago, your father Tu’e retreated in defeat from before Datong’s walls. Today, your fate will be the same.” He continued calmly, “E’sen, you’re nothing but a clown. Contending for the Central Plains is merely your delusional fantasy.”

“Delusional?” Gripping his sword, E’sen burst into laughter, “Good, very good.” He raised his crimson blade, his long eyebrows slanting upward as he declared loudly, “Then today, let your sword wake me from this dream!”

As his words fell, his sword had already moved like snow-light and wild geese, that strike cleaving through space and wind with continuous resonance.

Xiao Huan’s figure moved just once, elegant clear light meeting the crimson sword edge. With a clear “ding,” he had already blocked this attack.

In eight years, I hadn’t thought I would see again the brilliance that swords displayed in Xiao Huan’s hands. That world-shocking, matchless swordplay of years past had long become a legend in the memories of the martial world, for later generations to recount and admire.

Because those brilliant moments had become so distant, I would occasionally think arrogantly that with my current marksmanship, perhaps I was approaching Xiao Huan’s martial arts level back then. With Muyan’s increasingly masterful and invincible swordplay, perhaps we could barely stand as equals with Xiao Huan.

Today I realized just how absurd my arrogance was.

Among the flowing sword and blade lights, that Cyan figure stood fierce against the wind, feet never moving a step, yet the elegant mastery flowing through his hands already shook the heavens.

The Cyan light before my eyes intertwined with crimson sword shadows, cold glints crossing like bitter wind.

After a muffled clash, E’sen’s fierce offensive ended with his sword flying from his hand, embedding itself in the ground with a harsh, quivering hum.

Biye hung at E’sen’s throat as Xiao Huan gave a slight cold smile: “Well? Have you awakened from your dream?”

Face deathly pale, silently watching Xiao Huan before him, E’sen’s light golden pupils suddenly contracted as he violently raised a palm strike toward Xiao Huan’s chest.

In that lightning moment, my limbs instantly froze, not even have time to move my body.

The striking palm was pierced by the Cyan-glowing sword edge. Turning the blade in a diagonal sweep, the harsh sound of palm bones breaking rang out as E’sen’s left hand had its tendons and flesh torn open, blood spurting forth to stain the grass crimson.

Flicking the remaining blood drops from the long sword, Xiao Huan’s gaze remained cold.

Blood flowing freely from his palm, E’sen pressed his right hand against his left arm and gave a short laugh: “Your inner force is gone… otherwise you could have killed me on the twenty-first move.” Looking up with a smile, his usually spirited face now pale, he just looked at Xiao Huan, “How wonderful… the person I fell for should be just like this… cough… peerlessly magnificent…” Laughing and coughing, after these words he coughed up a mouthful of blood, spattering it across the autumn grass.

This not only caused a stir among the Tatars who had come with E’sen, but even I, watching clearly from the side, was momentarily stunned. E’sen’s internal injury came entirely from when he had struck that palm toward Xiao Huan and then forcefully withdrawn his inner force, injuring his organs.

After a pause, E’sen carelessly spat out the remaining blood in his mouth, still smiling: “Even knowing you’ve lost all your inner force, I still couldn’t bring myself to harm you…”

His cold expression unchanged, the sword suspended above E’sen’s head hadn’t moved a fraction, as Xiao Huan calmly watched him.

“It’s just a pity…” Slowly bracing himself against the ground and standing straight, E’sen smiled, “We likely have no fate in this life.”

“Xiao Bai…” He released his hand pressing the wound, raising his blood-covered palm, and across the distance, lifted it in a gesture as if caressing Xiao Huan’s cheek from afar.

Watching him silently make such a gesture, a flash of killing intent shot through Xiao Huan’s deep, concealed pupils, yet the sword in his hand still didn’t move.

Watching quietly, I suddenly raised my firearm, aiming at E’sen’s chest: “Lower your hand and step back!”

Without waiting for those around to react, the bullet shot from my gun.

With a loud laugh, E’sen flipped away to dodge this bullet, his figure already over ten feet away. As the surrounding army slowly closed in, blood flowing freely from his left hand, he mounted his war horse. This Tatar prince, though still seemingly looking down on everything even in his spirited state, pointed his sword to show the way: “We’re leaving!”

He turned his horse’s head, golden eyes still looking at Xiao Huan, and spoke one sentence.

After speaking, he threw his sword and charged into the army without looking back.

Though not far away, while that sentence wasn’t entirely clear, it was roughly understood. He had said: “In the next life, you’ll be mine…”

This angered me so much that I almost wanted to chase after him and give him two more shots, waving my riding crop and cursing: “Keep dreaming! He’ll be mine in the next life too! All mine! I should have just shot you dead! Why did I specifically let…”

Only then did I realize my mistake and quickly looked toward Xiao Huan.

He had probably already seen that my earlier shot was deliberately creating chaos to let E’sen escape. Otherwise, with one move of Xiao Huan’s sword, E’sen would have had no path to survival.

Smiling at me, he didn’t say anything, just sheathed the sword in his hand and returned it to Hong Qing with a smile: “Biye’s brilliance surpasses its past glory, I certainly didn’t disgrace it. Hong Qing, thank you for lending me your sword.”

Receiving such praise, even Hong Qing’s usually lazy expression showed some excitement as he accepted the sword with a nod: “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Hands clasped behind his back, watching the soldiers of both countries standing in groups not far away, Xiao Huan’s face showed no ripples of emotion.

The Tatars were fierce warriors, still fighting bare-chested despite their disadvantage. Though E’sen had exceptional martial arts and elite soldiers, firstly he was wounded, and secondly, the Divine Machine Battalion, claimed to be the finest of the imperial guard, was not comparable to ordinary cavalry on the battlefield.

The tide of people retreated one wave and surged forward another. Even if E’sen wanted to break through, he couldn’t manage it for the moment.

As we stood there, the Divine Machine Battalion’s commander led a squad of cavalry over, dismounting to kneel before Xiao Huan: “Weapons are blind and might startle Your Majesty’s presence. Please retire to rest behind the camp.”

Thinking about it, this made sense. With firearms being so lethal, having Xiao Huan standing here made nearby soldiers inevitably cautious and hesitant, unable to fight with full force.

Nodding, Xiao Huan mounted his horse and said to Shiyan: “Withdraw all the escort troops.”

I also mounted and followed him as our group left the valley from the rear.

Galloping to the hilltop, below us the fierce battle was in full swing. As far as the eye could see, warfare raged and blood stained the land.

Driving my horse to stand beside Xiao Huan, I reached out to him from horseback: “Brother Xiao.”

With a light laugh, he took my hand in his, which had remained ice-cold since earlier.

E’sen had ultimately escaped. After half a day of bloody battle, his personal guard cavalry were almost annihilated, with less than ten men breaking through the encirclement with him.

Fighting continued until nightfall before the situation was finally settled. Na Hai died in battle, and E’sen’s army of fifty thousand was reduced to less than twenty thousand, retreating with him to the grasslands.

The original camp had long been destroyed by cavalry, but fortunately, Datong City wasn’t directly affected by the fighting, with damage being relatively minor. That night, several rooms were cleared out, and I went with Xiao Huan to rest inside.

After a day of battle, though he showed no signs of weariness, his health had been poor lately, so I dared not let him overtire himself and early on pulled him to sit on the couch to rest.

Smiling lightly as I pressed him onto the couch, he didn’t resist, only casually looking through newly organized battle reports.

I had someone bring a charcoal brazier to warm the room, placed a lamp beside Xiao Huan for light, and then sat beside him, holding his hand and resting my head lightly on his shoulder. Only then did my mind finally escape from a full day of warfare, finding some sense of leisure and peace as I let out a light sigh while leaning against him.

Moving his gaze from the battle reports, Xiao Huan smiled and gently wrapped an arm around my shoulders: “Are you tired?”

Shaking my head, I leaned forward to hold his waist. This great battle was finally approaching its end. Even if they pursued E’sen further, the imperial presence wouldn’t linger at the frontier—barring the unexpected, only the triumphant return to the capital remained.

“Scaring me like this, I’ll live a few years less…” Holding his body, letting the faint warmth from his embrace transmit through our clothes, I couldn’t help muttering softly.

“Cang Cang,” he said, holding my shoulders with a slight apology in his voice, “you’ve had it hard these past days.”

I was too lazy to respond to these words of his, looking up at him with a light snort: “Don’t think you can get away with just saying nice things!”

Seeing him still smiling faintly, I found the battle report in his hands somewhat irritating: “It’s been a whole day, rest a while first. These things can wait until tomorrow.”

Riding war horses all day was one thing, but that battle with E’sen, though he hadn’t used inner force, just resisting the sword energy generated between them was very taxing on the body. Though he showed no signs of pain, I didn’t dare be careless: “Brother Xiao, are you feeling unwell anywhere?”

Perhaps seeing my expression was too worried, he extraordinarily put down the battle report in his hand, smiling and nodding: “Alright…” He smiled again, “I’m fine, Cang Cang, don’t worry.”

Giving him a reproachful look, I was still somewhat angry: “If only it were as simple as you saying you’re fine!”

No matter how angry I got, he still smiled gently with a slight apology: “Cang Cang…”

Even though his constant nonchalance irritated me greatly, how could I not understand his good intentions? That afternoon’s battle wasn’t necessary for him, but only through battle could he make E’sen completely give up hope, and only through battle could he prevent E’sen from trying to provoke him by harming those close to him.

The sword E’sen threw at me—hurting me was secondary; the deeper meaning was to show that to force Xiao Huan to act, he would use any means necessary. So when E’sen’s sword came, to prevent me from becoming E’sen’s target again, Xiao Huan had no choice but to fight.

But watching him face the enemy with a sword from the side, not daring to even blink, afraid that if my gaze left him for a moment, I would immediately see him injured—at that moment, I truly wished I was the one standing in that field.

Deflating under his smile, I reached out to help him lie down, muttering: “What male favorite is so difficult to serve!”

Supporting himself with my arm preparing to lie back, he smiled, then as if remembering something, asked casually: “Where’s Kumor? Has he settled in?”

His mention made me realize that although both armies had returned victorious, after briefly crossing paths with Kumor, I didn’t know where he’d gone. Even now at nightfall, he hadn’t been seen.

I shook my head: “Not too clear, probably hasn’t returned to his quarters to rest yet.”

It was quite strange. These past few days, the three of us had lived together in the main tent, and Kumor had developed a habit of wandering around the camp when free, taking the opportunity to tease Xiao Huan. Today we’d been settled for quite a while, yet he hadn’t appeared.

Hearing this but showing no concern, Xiao Huan smiled and nodded.

As we were talking, Hong Qing came in to report the general situation of various arrangements. Hearing us mention Kumor, he said: “Great Khan Kumor? Seems he’s still outside the city, hasn’t entered to station troops. The Jurchen soldiers also haven’t entered the city, they’re all outside now.”

E’sen had been dealt with and fled, yet this person was still keeping troops outside the city—what for? Finding it strange, I smiled: “What is Kumor trying to do? Could it be he’s grown so used to living in tents he insists on continuing?”

As I was joking, I looked up at Xiao Huan and suddenly stopped.

Face drained of color, he just stared intently at the candle on the table, lightly closing his eyes before speaking: “Hong Qing, go fetch me that battle report from Juyong Pass.”

“Your Majesty.” Hong Qing called out, and in just a moment, his face too had turned deathly pale as he whirled around to fetch it.

Documents and such had been transported away and safely stored before the battle began, now placed behind the writing desk in the corner of the room. Hong Qing quickly found that battle report and brought it over.

Taking the previous battle report, Xiao Huan spread it out next to the current one, pressing it down with his finger to carefully compare.

There was a moment of stillness in the room, even the sound of breathing couldn’t be heard, only the sound of Xiao Huan’s fingers slowly sliding across the white paper.

The red candle in the octagonal lamp stands on the table flickered slightly, making this moment especially long.

In the silence, Xiao Huan finally raised his gaze from the battle reports and looked at Hong Qing, giving a light nod: “Accompany me outside the city.”

He smiled again, his deep voice still steady, though it wasn’t clear if he was speaking to himself or explaining to me: “When retreating from before Juyong Pass, one group of defeated Tatar troops was scattered and fled into the grasslands, disappearing without a trace. The leader of that group of defeated troops was Na Hai’s brother, Aslan.”

I was stunned. This name was too resonant, so resonant that even I had heard of it—the Tatars’ greatest warrior, E’sen’s right-hand man, the Lion of the Steppes whose prestige and strength even surpassed his brother Na Hai.

Smiling at me, Xiao Huan had already risen, his steps not stopping as he walked toward the door.

Almost in a daze, I followed his figure, mounting horses to leave the city.

Three fine horses passed through the busy Da Wu soldiers within the city. The city gates were still not closed as Xiao Huan rode through, leaving only the guard commander hastily kneeling after recognizing the flash of imperial garments.

In the vast night outside the city, Jurchen soldiers who had fought bloody battles all day either stood or sat, some resting on the ground against their war horses, some dozing while leaning on their weapons.

These warriors, disheveled with dust and blood, not one had any intention of entering the newly captured city to savor the joy of victory or rest their weary bodies.

Cold blades reflected the light of bonfires lit on the ground. Besides occasional horse neighs, the wilderness was silent as death.

Standing his horse before the formation, Xiao Huan’s voice wasn’t loud but carried far across the wilderness: “I am the Emperor of Da Wu. I wish to see Great Khan Kumor.”

Dead silence. There was no sound from the formation, only the Jurchen people’s silent and calm gazes, sharp as knives.

“I wish to see Great Khan Kumor,” Xiao Huan repeated, enunciating each word, “I am the Emperor of Da Wu.”

Finally some disturbance appeared in the formation as the crowd parted automatically. A black war horse slowly came forward, a warrior in silver armor and tall boots approaching from the ranks.

Those grey eagle eyes reflecting the cold light of swords, lips slightly raised, Kumor’s voice was ice-cold with a hint of mockery: “Oh, if it isn’t His Majesty the Emperor.”

“Kumor,” looking directly into his eyes, Xiao Huan spoke, “if you trust me, those people were not sent by me.”