Outside the King of Hua’s tent, a group of people waited in anxious tension, their expressions sharp and fraught — none more so than Military Adviser Liu Yusheng, who had nearly worn a groove into the ground with his pacing. The son-in-law Huang Chao, by contrast, stood at a considerable distance with his back to the royal tent, hands clasped behind him, his gaze lifted toward the horizon where the setting sun still clung, reluctant and lingering, to the edge of the mountain peaks.

“Young Master Yu, how fares His Majesty?”

At last, the tent flap was lifted. Liu Yusheng rushed forward at once, anxiously addressing Yu Wuyuan as he emerged.

“His life is not in danger,” Yu Wuyuan said lightly. His gaze passed through Liu Yusheng and settled, from a distance, upon Huang Chao.

“Many thanks to the young master!” Liu Yusheng, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, dropped into a bow before Yu Wuyuan.

“Military Adviser Liu, there is no need for such formality.” Yu Wuyuan extended a hand, and Liu Yusheng found himself unable to complete the bow.

In this sweltering summer heat, that hand was as cold as ice. Liu Yusheng felt it like a jolt the moment their hands touched, and he could not help but look up at Yu Wuyuan. The man had spent the entire afternoon inside the tent fighting to save the King of Hua’s life, and yet he showed not the slightest trace of fatigue. His face remained as soft and tranquil as jade, his eyes as serene and unhurried as ever. His white robes, even stained with blood, left him looking as immaculate as untouched snow. Every time one laid eyes on this person, one had the feeling that he did not quite belong to this mortal world — that at any moment he might drift away on the wind.

“Young Master…” The words “how can the young master’s hands be so cold?” somehow could not be spoken aloud. Liu Yusheng simply looked at him in silence, not daring to let a single word or gesture carry even a hint of offense toward the person before him.

“Military Adviser Liu must be deeply concerned about His Majesty’s injuries. You may go inside to see him — only remember not to wake him.” Yu Wuyuan offered a faint smile and gestured toward the interior of the tent.

“Yes.” Liu Yusheng bowed and lifted the flap to enter.

“As for the rest of you generals, why not return to rest? His Majesty is out of danger.” Yu Wuyuan looked out at the others waiting outside the tent.

The remaining men exchanged glances, then each gave a bow to Yu Wuyuan before departing.

Once everyone had gone, Huang Chao turned around. He looked at Yu Wuyuan and said with flat indifference: “So the King of Hua won’t be dying?”

“No.” Yu Wuyuan moved toward Huang Chao, his gaze drifting toward the last sliver of red sun hovering above the mountain peaks. “Those three arrows pierced deeply into the flesh — nearly clean through. It seems that General Lin Ji of Feng is an archer not far below the level of Jiushuang.”

“I knew you would exhaust your energy saving him.” Huang Chao withdrew his gaze and looked ahead, his brow faintly furrowing. “But it is not yet his time to die.” He suddenly let out a long sigh. “Feng — the Feng Cloud Cavalry. Truly an abundance of talent. What a pity…”

“What do you intend to do? Do you truly mean to face her in battle here at the Valley of No Return?” Yu Wuyuan turned his head.

“It is already in motion — the arrow is on the bowstring and must be loosed.” Huang Chao’s voice was heavy and low. His gaze fell upon the Feng army’s encampment and slowly turned glacial and grave. “And besides — sooner or later, there must be a battle.”

“Sooner or later… if that is so…” Yu Wuyuan’s gaze drifted slowly over to the white phoenix banner flying proudly within the Feng army’s formation — the white phoenix with wings spread across the clouds — and a faint sigh escaped him. “The white phoenix banner of the Feng family… Feng Duying… the white phoenix… Huang Chao, since you intend to face Feng Xi in battle, you must know of the Feng family’s Blood Phoenix Formation.”

“The Blood Phoenix Formation?” A golden gleam flickered through Huang Chao’s eyes. He tilted his gaze slightly upward toward the western sky, where the last trace of red sun had now sunk below the horizon. The dim and dusky twilight was quietly descending. “I know of the Blood Phoenix Formation. The ancestral journals once mentioned it — a blood-devouring phoenix.”

“Flee upon encountering the phoenix…” Yu Wuyuan murmured the words, and his eyes dropped to his own hands. A faint trace of blood still lingered there — blood from the King of Hua. And afterward? Whose blood would stain his hands next? How much more blood would there yet be?

“Flee upon encountering the phoenix — but for those of your Yu family, there is no formation in this world that cannot be broken.” Huang Chao withdrew his gaze, his golden eyes bright and resolute as they fixed on Yu Wuyuan.

“The Yu family…” Yu Wuyuan murmured the words back softly, then gave a faint, bitter smile.

“You haven’t slept yet, even at this hour?”

Atop the Feng army’s royal tent, Feng Xi sat cross-legged, both hands resting loosely on her knees. Clearly she had slipped away after retiring and crept up here. She wore only a thin white sleeping robe, and her long black hair fell freely down her back, trailing over the roof of the tent. She tilted her head back to gaze up at the night sky, the snow-white moon ornament at her brow glimmering in distant harmony with the silver crescent hanging in the heavens. That languid posture and loose bearing was pure Bai Fengxi, but the dignified and serene expression on her face was entirely Feng Xiyun.

“Watching the stars — have you found anything of note?” Feng Chang leapt lightly onto the rooftop and settled with one knee drawn up, his own gaze lifting toward the spray of stars scattered across the night sky above.

“I remember when I was small, my nanny used to say that for every star in the sky, there is a person on earth. And in the Jade Words on Celestial Phenomena it is written that the star patterns above reflect all things below. If that is truly so, then you and I are also stars among these sprinklings of light — and you… which star would you be?” Feng Xi spoke up suddenly, her voice soft and light, her gaze still fixed on the heavens. The starlight seemed to pour itself entirely into her eyes, filling those dark pupils with a clarity brighter than any star above.

“Whichever star is the emperor’s star — that is mine.” The voice was utterly calm, without a ripple of emotion. The expression was easy and unhurried. These were words that, from anyone else, would have been spoken with towering ambition and sweeping pride — yet Feng Chang said them with such complete nonchalance, as if they were simply a matter of obvious fact.

Hearing this answer, Feng Xi turned to look at him. Feng Chang turned his head to look at her. Their gazes met — both perfectly calm and unguarded, like two still and placid lakes facing each other across time and space, so clear and serene that each could reflect everything of the other.

“Why do you want to be emperor?” After a long silence, Feng Xi asked again, her tone just as unhurried. Her eyes remained quietly settled on him — not prying, not probing — simply an ordinary question, though what it asked was anything but ordinary.

“Because I will be a great emperor, worthy of the admiration of all under heaven.” The answer came just as plainly. Those ink-dark eyes remained as deep and still as a lake, like a star fallen from the night sky — crystalline and bright.

Feng Xi looked back up at the night sky. The stars spread across the heavens — some brilliant, some dim, some larger, some smaller. Then she lowered her gaze to her own hands, and spread her palm open, studying it closely, as though she read something there. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips — faint and light — and she said: “Very well. I will help you win this world and bring an end to this age of chaos.”

At these words, a flash of brilliant starlight passed through Feng Chang’s ink-jade eyes. Then a soft, gentle smile bloomed across his face. He extended his hand and looked at her. “Is that a promise?”

Feng Xi looked at that hand extended toward her for a moment, then reached out her own and looked at him. “A promise.”

Both had been born of royal blood, and neither pair of hands had ever done rough or heavy labor. Both were noble, pale, slender, clean, and steady. Their fingertips touched lightly at each other’s palms, then slowly moved — ten fingers interlacing, turning, winding around, wrists meeting and joining… Those two hands bound themselves tightly together. This was an ancient rite, signifying a vow made by both parties — a promise that would hold without regret until death.

“The age of chaos ends in our hands. I will share this world with you.” Their hands still entwined together, the crystalline light in Feng Chang’s eyes fell upon Feng Xi’s gaze.

Feng Xi lowered her eyelids slightly, and at the corner of her lips a faint smile drifted past — elusive as a night breeze, carrying within it a thread of the night’s deep hues — so solitary and still that the vast expanse of heaven and earth seemed unable to contain even that one faint smile.

When she raised her eyes again, she smiled once more — but it remained a wordless smile, and she gave no answer. In that moment, atop that small rooftop where they had just sworn their pact, in that somewhat stifling summer night, Feng Chang felt a sudden chill at his heart. The world seemed to expand all at once into an immense and lonely emptiness — so wide and desolate that, without thinking, his grip tightened on the few fingers that were slipping away from his palm.

“Hiss—” Feng Xi drew a sharp breath and raised her brows in wide-eyed protest. “Black Fox, are you trying to snap my fingers?! Keep squeezing like that and don’t blame me for using Screeching Phoenix Nine Heavens on you!”

This was Feng Xi’s hand. These were Feng Xi’s brows and eyes. These were words only Feng Xi would say. Something warm surged back into his heart. Feng Chang released her hand and broke into a quiet, faint smile, looking at Feng Xi with a soft and gentle gaze.

“How dare the queen’s jade hand be grabbed at will by a black fox like you? You nearly snapped them off!” Feng Xi massaged her slightly reddened fingers and glared at Feng Chang in indignant reproach — but when she raised her eyes and saw that smile, she was momentarily taken aback. Then her gaze shifted, traveling up and down, left and right, scrutinizing him thoroughly from all angles. Apparently still not finding her answer, she leaned closer and sniffed at him, then extended her hand and touched his face. “Huh? The smell is right, the face is right — it is the black fox… But something’s not right…”

“What are you doing now, woman?” Feng Chang reached out a hand and pushed away that warm, soft, faintly fragrant figure that had practically draped itself against him. He looked at Feng Xi with a slight frown. This woman seemed forever unaware of the concept of proper distance between men and women.

“It is the black fox.” Feng Xi stared at Feng Chang with a furrowed brow. “But that smile just now… something about that smile was off.”

“How dull,” Feng Chang said flatly, and flicked his sleeve — as if to brush away the lingering trace of warmth and softness.

“Black Fox, smile like that again — if you smile like that often, I might consider giving you those two serving girls still in my tent.” Feng Xi leaned closer to him, dangling the temptation, while at the same time reaching out a hand to touch his face, seeming to want to study him further.

“Sigh… you woman…” Feng Chang gave a long sigh, raised a hand to push hers away, and smiled with mild helplessness.

“Forget it. There it is again — the fox’s little smile.” Feng Xi pursed her lips and withdrew her hand at once, her gaze sweeping back toward the stars scattered across the sky. She raised a hand and rubbed between her brows. “The smile from earlier was genuinely different — but what exactly was different about it… hmm… I can’t quite figure it out… ha-ah…” A long yawn overtook her. “Mmm… I want to sleep. I’ll think about it after I wake up. Mmm… on a night like this I should have the stars to keep me company while I sleep.”

She tipped backward and lay down, rolled to face away from Feng Chang, and seemed to be falling asleep — but in less than a moment she rolled back over. Her eyes were barely open. She reached out a hand, grabbed a fistful of Feng Chang’s sleeve, and pulled it over her face, murmuring half-coherently: “Black Fox, fan away the mosquitoes for me… consider it your repayment for me helping you win the world. And also… take me back to the tent before anyone wakes up.”

The morning of May 12th, at the Hour of the Dragon.

From the King of Hua’s royal tent stepped Huang Chao, clad in armor of purple and gold. He strode outside, his gaze falling on Military Adviser Liu Yusheng, who had been waiting all this time. A faint smile touched his lips, his eyes sharp as the edge of a blade. “Military Adviser, His Majesty has appointed me commander-in-chief of the entire army, to lead our forces into battle against the Feng Cloud Cavalry.” As he spoke, his right hand lifted slightly, and a gleaming golden tiger tally rested quietly in his palm.

Liu Yusheng’s gaze swept across the tiger tally, and inwardly he felt a flash of quiet unease. He bowed his head and said: “Congratulations to the son-in-law.”

“His Majesty’s body remains very weak and requires rest. Please see to it that he is not disturbed.” Huang Chao’s gaze moved to what lay ahead. His tone was flat, but beneath it ran an undercurrent of icy finality.

“Yes.” Liu Yusheng let out a quiet, inward sigh, and answered with his head still bowed.

Huang Chao strode forward in great steps, holding his head high as he walked toward the golden-armored troops massed and ready at the front of the formation. His figure was straight and towering as a mountain, his bearing graceful yet dignified, his every movement composed and unhurried. This was the sovereign pride and confidence that belonged only to one born to rule.

Behind him, Liu Yusheng raised his eyes slightly and let his gaze follow that retreating figure. In that moment, the faint dread in his heart quietly dissolved. Something about that silhouette stirred in him an involuntary reverence — without any reason he could name, he suddenly felt the desire to follow this man for the rest of his days. This person possessed the bearing of an emperor.

“Warriors of Hua, today I, Huang Chao, stand shoulder to shoulder with you in battle! In this fight, we will avenge His Majesty for the three arrows he suffered! We will crush the Feng army and wash away our shame!”

Huang Chao’s voice was clear and far-reaching, and every single word carried to the ears of every soldier and general. He stood at the head of the formation like a towering mountain — one hand raised high holding the tiger tally, the other holding aloft his sword. The golden gleam of the tally and the cold light of the blade reflected one another in the morning sun, their combined brilliance lighting up the eyes of the troops. His rousing words ignited in them a surging, sky-high fighting spirit.

This son-in-law — some of them had never laid eyes on him before — and yet from this single glimpse, from these single words, they submitted to him from the very depths of their hearts. It was as though, following this man, there was nothing in the world that could not be accomplished. The legendary Feng Cloud Cavalry seemed something that could be broken with ease, because he simply had that kind of invincible power. Follow him, and even if the way ahead were a mountain of blades and a forest of swords, there would be nothing to fear — for he would be the first to charge into them. Even to bleed, even to fall, would be a worthy thing, because he would surely avenge them.

“We follow the son-in-law! We avenge His Majesty! We will defeat the Feng Cloud Cavalry and reclaim our honor!”

In an instant, ten thousand voices answered as one. Swords and blades were raised high together, and the thunderous sound seemed to shake the very earth beneath their feet and swallow the heavens above in a blaze of steel and light. The whole world, it seemed, held nothing but that sea of golden armor — and before it all, that single upright, towering figure in purple.

Far across the field, at the front of the Feng army’s formation, Feng Xi stood in her silver armor in perfect stillness, listening to the Hua army’s roar rolling toward her from the distance — a sound that could pierce the clouds. She said nothing. She simply stood there, motionless. And the forty thousand Feng Cloud Cavalry standing before her were just as motionless, their gazes converged upon a single point: fixed on the queen they revered above all others, more than any man in the world. The expressions on their faces were those of respect, devotion, and a willingness to follow her unto death. They knew she would lead them to defeat the Hua army and defend their homeland. She would do it — because she was their Xiyun, whose civil talent and martial prowess were unrivaled in the world, the princess who had grown into the most outstanding ruler Feng had seen since the Phoenix King herself: Feng Xiyun.

“Drive out the Hua army. Defend our homeland.”

Eight simple words, spoken in Feng Xi’s even and composed voice — neither rousing nor thunderous, only clear and bright, cold and crisp, rising above the Valley of No Return. Yet they rang in the ears of every soldier, and struck each one of them in the chest. The words “Drive out the Hua army, defend our homeland” echoed again and again, beating in their hearts like war drums, shaking their very souls.

“Yes!”

Ten thousand voices answered at once. That roar was as solid and unyielding as the thickest, most impenetrable fortress walls in the world — no force on earth could move it even a fraction. That roar was as keen and fierce as the sharpest sword in the world — no walls of bronze or iron could withstand a single stroke from it. The sound faded, but its echo still rang out above the Valley of No Return, as if to tell the enemy ahead: we will not be defeated. We are going to drive you out.

“Boom, boom, boom… boom, boom, boom…”

The war drums thundered. Within the Valley of No Return, warhorses screamed. Ten thousand soldiers advanced as one.

To the east, the white-clad Feng army spread into formation, arrayed in readiness. To the west, the golden-armored Hua army surged forward in high spirits, advancing in unison.

Behind both armies, upon their tall respective viewing platforms, Yu Wuyuan had climbed to one side, while Feng Xi and Feng Chang had climbed to the other.

“You’ve deployed five of the six Feng Cloud generals for this battle.” At this moment of life-and-death confrontation between two armies, Feng Chang remained unhurried and elegant — as leisurely as if he were observing a game of chess.

“Because the opponent in this battle is Huang Chao!” Feng Xi raised a hand and pointed toward that one rider at the forefront of the Hua army. Even from this distance, one could feel the commanding presence radiating from him, and the entire Hua army carried with it a sharpness of lethal intent. With a different commander at the helm, the difference was night and day. Her gaze rose, settling on the distant viewing platform opposite. “And behind them stands Yu Wuyuan.”

“The Hua army’s spirit today is truly extraordinary.” Feng Chang’s gaze also fell upon the Hua army, a faint smile of interest at the corner of his mouth. “And all simply because Huang Chao is commanding? He truly is a fine opponent.”

“Some people are born with a presence that makes others trust them, willing to follow them even to death. Huang Chao is that kind of person.” Feng Xi’s gaze returned to Huang Chao, and a trace of faint admiration flickered across her expression. “That is why he is so self-assured and proud. And he truly does have the foundations to look down upon the world.”

“He commands the center force himself, with the left and right flanks trailing five zhang behind. All of the Hua army’s remaining fifty thousand troops are here — it seems he means to settle the outcome with you in a single engagement.” A glimmer of brightness surfaced in Feng Chang’s eyes as he gazed at that one rider at the very forefront of the Hua formation. The smile on his face carried a note of genuine admiration. “To personally take the field leading the Golden Armor Cavalry — which cannot even begin to compare with the Feng Cloud Cavalry in combat power — Huang Chao is truly a hero of boundless courage.”

“That is precisely where the two of you differ.” Feng Xi suddenly turned to look at Feng Chang. The smile on her face was somewhere between mockery and admiration. “Though he once said himself that he is no hero, he still chooses to act as one.”

“He wants to be a great sovereign like Shi Di.” Feng Chang’s tone was mild and unhurried, as if Huang Chao’s heroic nature did not particularly move him.

“Shi Di…” Feng Xi suddenly shook her head, and said no more — yet something clearly remained unsaid.

Feng Chang glanced at her but did not press the question, letting his gaze return to the Feng army’s formation. “Will we see the true Blood Phoenix Formation in this battle? Five generals deployed: Qi Shu at the fore, Cheng Zhi on the left, Xu Yuan on the right, Lin Ji at the rear — and at the center is Xiu Jiurong. Why not Qi Shu, the foremost of the six generals?”

“What do you make of Jiurong?” Feng Xi heard this and cast him an unhurried glance.

“Young, reserved, prone to shyness, speaks little, a somewhat scholarly air — only…” Feng Chang’s gaze searched for that one figure at the center of the formation. “When placed amid ten thousand soldiers, he becomes composed and unruffled, and those eyes that ordinarily flit and dart like a startled deer’s become cold and sharp as a sword’s edge.”

“Of the Feng Cloud Six Generals, Qi Shu is foremost for steadiness and broad-mindedness; Xu Yuan is meticulous in thought and thorough in action; Lin Ji excels in archery and shows care for those beneath him; Bao Cheng and Cheng Zhi are both warriors capable of taking on a hundred men alone. But when it comes to cleverness, adaptability, and nimbleness of mind, that distinction belongs to Jiurong.” Feng Xi’s gaze swept over the Feng army’s formation below, seeming quite satisfied with how it was arrayed, and gave a faint nod. “In two or three more years, when Jiurong has matured a little further, he will be Feng’s foremost general. In this battle, I am placing him as the mind that drives the entire formation.”

“Xiu Jiurong?” Feng Chang gave a faint smile, his gaze drifting to the Hua army opposite. “The opponent this time is Huang Chao.”

“I know. But…” Feng Xi’s eyes took on a somewhat distant look as she watched the scene below. The Hua army was pressing forward steadily; the Feng army waited in composed stillness. The two forces were now less than ten zhang apart — and then the great banner at the forefront of the Hua army swung in signal, and the entire army halted as one. “Huang Chao truly is different.” The murmur escaped her, somewhere between a sigh and a lament.

Below, on the battlefield, Huang Chao narrowed his eyes and looked out at the forty thousand Feng Cloud Cavalry not far ahead. Even pressed this close, the Feng Cloud Cavalry had not moved a single step — not a trace of panic, their formation held with absolute discipline. Though still, they carried within their stillness an imposing and lethal presence — like a wall built entirely of blade edges. Even in a purely defensive stance, they exuded a cutting, killing sharpness. The Golden Armor Cavalry behind him had evidently sensed that overwhelming force — they had already, without being ordered, tightened their grips on swords and spears, some having even drawn their blades.

“He’s stopped. He seems to be waiting for something.” From the height of the viewing platform, Feng Chang could see everything below with crystal clarity.

“Before he has found a gap in our formation, he will wait for the phoenix to strike first. The moment he finds that gap will be the moment he unleashes his most ferocious assault.” Feng Xi’s tone was calm, but her eyes were fixed intently on the scene below.

The Feng Cloud Cavalry below was like a phoenix poised and proud, head raised and wings folded — maintaining the regal composure of the king of all birds, waiting calmly for the enemy to make the first move. The Golden Armor Cavalry likewise stood unmoving, awaiting Huang Chao’s signal. The two armies held each other in silent confrontation. The atmosphere was oppressively heavy.

After roughly one quarter-hour, the banner at the Hua army’s front finally stirred. The first to move were the left and right flanks — both surging rapidly forward in what appeared to be an attempt to wrap around and encircle the Feng army. When the two flanks were no more than five zhang from the Feng forces, the center suddenly launched forward as well — all three units advancing simultaneously, charging the Feng army at full speed.

The moment the Hua army’s center moved, the phoenix finally stirred. Its great wings snapped open to meet the Hua army’s left and right flanks. Then, as the Hua army’s center thrust straight ahead — driving toward the phoenix’s head — the phoenix’s head suddenly veered left, dodging the charge, and instead struck a fierce, targeted blow at the Hua army’s right flank, which the left wing had already encircled. At the same moment, the phoenix’s belly suddenly thrust out twin claws — from which hooked iron talons detached and flew — these were the arrows of the Arrow Rain unit. The arrows rained down in a torrent against the oncoming Hua center force. A chorus of agonized cries rang out as the foremost ranks of the center force fell in droves. The phoenix’s tail fanned open its plumage, joining with the right wing to close a pincer around the Hua army’s left flank. In an instant, all fifty thousand Golden Armor troops were enveloped within the phoenix’s encirclement.

But then — just as the phoenix tightened its grip and began to draw the encirclement ever closer — the remaining rear section of the center force suddenly abandoned its push against the phoenix’s claws, wheeled around, and drove a cutting blow toward the back of the phoenix’s head. In a flash, the phoenix’s head — which had been working alongside the left wing to annihilate the Hua army’s right flank — found itself caught between the Hua army’s left flank and center, attacked from front and back simultaneously, in imminent danger of being severed.

Then, in quick succession, the left flank — which had been half-encircled by the right wing and phoenix’s tail — suddenly wheeled at full speed to the right, joined the center, and threw its entire strength against the phoenix’s head. In an instant, all fighting collapsed onto the phoenix’s left wing, with Feng and Hua troops tangled around and into each other — encircling, flanking, and catching one another — until there was no longer a front, a back, a left, or a right: only enemies in every direction. A full-scale melee erupted. This was no longer a contest of who had the cleverest formation or the most agile mind — it was a contest of whose blade was sharper, whose movements were faster, whose strength was greater, who could kill the most enemies the fastest.

“Huang Chao — he was never trying to break the formation at all! He’s not here for victory or defeat!” On the viewing platform, watching Huang Chao throw caution to the wind in this all-out blood struggle, Feng Xi suddenly understood. She slammed a palm down on the railing, setting it shaking. “His only goal is to inflict heavy losses on the Feng Cloud Cavalry — using this battle as his instrument!”

“Five thousand Golden Armor troops sacrificed, all to cripple the Feng Cloud Cavalry’s fighting strength.” Feng Chang nodded with a sigh. “Not a single soldier from the Imperial Nation expended. He uses the Golden Armor Cavalry to devastate his most dangerous enemy, the Feng Cloud Cavalry. Meanwhile, the Hua army — originally two hundred thousand strong — will have lost more than a hundred thousand in Feng by your hand. And with the King of Hua gravely wounded, and the Hua princes all mediocre men, Hua will fall entirely into his grasp. What a vicious scheme. What a Huang Chao.” He finished with an admiring, despairing shake of his head.

“You think you can reduce my forces by a third?! I will not let you have your way!” The frost of autumn was in Feng Xi’s voice; her eyes at this moment were colder and clearer than a glacier of a thousand years. “You want these fifty thousand Golden Armor troops gone? I will oblige you — every last one.”

With that, she flung her arm outward. A length of white silk flew from her sleeve, floating like a white cloud through the air. Her hand swept through the sky, and the white cloud danced itself into the shape of a phoenix spreading its wings in flight. “Jiurong — Blood Phoenix!”

Feng Xi’s clear, soaring voice rang out above the battlefield, cutting through even the deafening roar of the fighting below.

“Yes!” From the heart of the battlefield came a single powerful voice — resolute and decisive.

Then, within the battlefield, the white phoenix banner rose. The blood-soaked phoenix let out a long, fierce cry. In the next instant, its left and right wings simultaneously spread wide; every individual feather caught the sunlight and flashed like the edge of a blade. Its twin claws transformed into a phoenix’s head; its tail transformed into talons. A new, blood-devouring phoenix was born — its entire form burning with furious flame, its entire form blazing with a blinding, bone-deep cold light. As the white phoenix banner swung toward the Hua army, the blood phoenix — wings spread wide, claws thrown open, head raised high — at the moment the banner swept down, swept, clawed, and struck at the Hua army all at once, fierce and merciless. And the phoenix’s head, which had been trapped within the Hua army’s center, suddenly transformed into a sharpened sword — driving straight and true through the Hua army’s center force with perfect precision.

In that moment, the white phoenix — blazing with the light of blades, a sharp sword gripped in its beak — swept through the Hua army in a frenzy of madness. That wild, unchecked ferocity. That merciless, driving force. That slaughter which no god or Buddha could have stopped. That brutality and coldness which would make even demons shudder… enough to freeze the blood and shatter the spirit. Within the white were rivers of vivid, crimson red.

It was a bloodbath.

In what should have been the bright light of noon, the sky was filled with swirling yellow sand, blades and swords hacking and swinging, severed limbs flying through the air, blood flooding the earth. The hoarse, agonized, and sorrowful cries pierced the heavens. The sky shook. The earth trembled. The heavens darkened. The ground grew dim. Gods and spirits mourned together. The living and the dead wept as one.

It was the most terrible place of carnage in the human world.

“They’re fighting to the last man! Is it because Huang Chao is here — and so the Hua army’s will to fight refuses to die?” Feng Xi’s voice was ice cold. Then her figure unfolded into motion, and she shot downward into the formation, directly toward Huang Chao. “Then I will knock that will right out of them.”

At the same moment — the instant Feng Xi leapt into the air — from the viewing platform opposite, a white figure also shot outward. The difference was that this figure’s target was Feng Xi herself, mid-flight.

“Bai Fengxi versus Yu Wuyuan?” On his viewing platform, Feng Chang took in the sight with a faint smile — as easy and unhurried as a spectator settling in for a fine show. “I wonder who will win between the foremost woman in the world and the foremost young gentleman under heaven.”

The two white figures crossed ten-odd zhang and each landed at the same point within the formation below, then both leapt upward again — meeting each other in mid-air.

Seven zhang… six zhang… five zhang… four zhang…

Below, the Feng and Hua armies fought with furious, all-consuming abandon. Around them, only the grating clash of blades, the earth-shaking roar of battle. Above, the two figures flew steadily closer — one in gleaming silver armor, one with white robes streaming. Both, in this moment, seemed to have forgotten everything around them, and only continued flying forward. Each pair of eyes looked only at the other — as though the distance could never be closed, as though the other would remain forever just out of reach — and yet, in the span of a single blink, they were already before each other’s eyes.

Silver light flashed — the white silk flew out like a dragon unleashed.

Sleeves swept wide — fingers pressed together like a sword, launched into the void.

“The Yu family’s Borderless Sword!” On the viewing platform, Feng Chang saw Yu Wuyuan’s hand gesture in mid-air and felt his pupils contract suddenly. His hands gripped the railing of the platform involuntarily. “He is actually using the Borderless Sword!”

“Screeching Phoenix Nine Heavens!”

“Borderless Sword!”

Two quiet, crisp calls — perhaps each announcing the technique to the other, perhaps each announcing it to themselves. These were both inherited supreme arts, passed down through their respective families. Both were killing moves, techniques designed to take a life. Once unleashed… there was no turning back.

In an instant, the white silk transformed into a phoenix — screaming and proud, soaring through the nine heavens — wings outspread, head raised, carrying wind and flame as it flew.

An arm extended, a hand swept upward — a sword manifested at the fingertip and launched into the void, its sword-energy shooting out straight as a rainbow.

The phoenix’s cry! The sword’s ring! Even above that battlefield where shouts of killing shook the heavens, they rang out with crystalline clarity — yet below, no one any longer had the time to heed them.

In mid-air… the distance between them had shrunk to within two zhang. The white silk drove straight at the chest; the sword-energy was aimed directly between the brows. Closer — they could now see each other’s faces clearly, and close enough to see each other’s eyes with perfect clarity. Even the souls within the depths of those eyes could be seen through… In that moment, both of them gave a faint smile — a smile of such total absence of regret… such calm serenity, like parting clouds and a clearing wind…

Both hands suddenly went soft. Both hearts stopped, just for a moment. The white silk suddenly dipped down, passing beneath the arm and through, pulling away only a strip of cloth from the hem. The sword-energy suddenly veered, grazing past the temple, shearing off a lock of hair. The two figures drew close… eyes met… they smiled… they were side by side… and then they had passed each other — each landing within the formation below, one with a lock of black hair held in hand, one with a strip of fabric clutched in a fist. Both stood with their backs to the other — as if neither dared to turn around, neither dared to look back at the other even once.

“As I thought — neither could bring themselves to strike.” High atop the viewing platform, Feng Chang still wore his quiet, graceful smile as he watched those two white figures on the battlefield. Yet his hands had, without his realizing it, closed into tight fists around the railing. “But… as a member of the Yu family, Yu Wuyuan has chosen Huang Chao. And you have chosen me. So sooner or later, the two of you will have to strike.”

Wuyuan… in that moment… did you intend to die alongside me? Why… in the end, did you still not strike? Is this why your eyes always hold that hidden trace of sorrow? From the very first time I saw you — those eyes that everyone calls clear, undisturbed, gentle, and tranquil — in that darkest, deepest place within them — that faintest thread of compassionate grief… is it truly compassion for the people of the world? Or is it… only sorrow and pity for your own fate? And yet, why…

The Yu family… you… is this truly the ending that awaits us? Feng Xi gripped the white silk in her hand tight, gripped the strip of fabric in her fist tight. Something cool slid across her face. Her heart beat in that moment very slowly… very slowly… slow enough to make one wonder if, at the next beat, it might simply stop.

She lowered her gaze to the lock of black hair in her hand. This had been cut from Feng Xi’s temple. A fraction closer… Feng Xi. Her hand suddenly clutched those strands of hair with fierce tightness. Those eyes that had always remained as still as undisturbed water, as tranquil as calm, suddenly shimmered. A single blink — and a drop fell, landing on that lock of black hair, then in an instant sinking into the palm…

A member of the Yu family spends an entire life without love or hate. A member of the Yu family spends an entire life with blood but no tears… and yet… what is it that falls now? This is his thin, pitiful, wretched fragment of feeling… Feng Xi, this is the ending — for me, a person of the Yu family, and for you, a person of the Feng family. Something twisted at his chest, a violent and tearing pain. A dull ache spread through every limb and bone. The world seemed in that moment to be spinning… pulling away from him… No. Not yet. He could not yet.

That lock of black hair crumbled at last into powder in his palm, mingling with that single warm drop, and fell into the dust.

And her hand finally released its grip. That strip of fabric drifted quietly down, caught by the wind, and in an instant was gone without a trace.

Thus speaks fate, that it should mock us so.

The killing continued. The hell of the mortal world manifested in the Valley of No Return — the smell of blood pervaded the entire valley above, the sounds of screaming and slaughter pierced the sky, blades and swords swung with arcs of bloodlight, spear tips drew back trailing flesh and blood from fallen enemies. The ground was blanketed in golden corpses and severed limbs — occasionally obscuring a flash of white.

The two figures in the formation still stood wooden and motionless, letting blades graze past them, letting stray arrows fall around them — standing there as if asleep, entranced.

Then the purple figure — which had stood unmoved within the Hua army’s formation — suddenly stirred. Like a hawk spreading its wings, it shot straight toward the white phoenix banner in the center of the Feng army, and toward the rider beneath it.

“Jiurong, get clear!” The figure that had stood entranced suddenly woke. Feng Xi’s form shot upward like an arrow loosed from a bow, hurtling directly after the purple figure.

The other entranced white figure, this time, did not intercept. Instead, he turned around with a wooden, blank expression and began walking back — passing through a forest of blades and arrows, stepping over the corpses and severed limbs littering the ground, wading through pooled, viscous blood — one step at a time, quietly and steadily, as he went. That white robe, immaculate as ever, seemed the robe of a messenger descended from a higher world. On his jade-like face was infinite sorrow. Those eyes, filled with compassion and resignation, swept over everything they passed — crossing through hell, passing through souls… These lives… this blood… was this the price to be paid for another hundred years of peace?

Beneath the white phoenix banner, Xiu Jiurong stood tall on horseback, waving the banner in his hand, directing the formation and attacks of the entire Feng Cloud Cavalry.

When that purple figure came hurtling toward him like a bolt of cold lightning, he did not dodge. Instead, he raised the white phoenix banner high and swept it through the air — and in an instant, the Feng Cloud Cavalry before him parted to either side, evading the fierce sword-energy that swept out from the purple figure’s blade, which carved a deep, long furrow into the sandy ground. Then the purple figure’s arm raised high again, and another bolt of cold lightning, carrying a blazing silver gleam, struck again toward the white phoenix banner.

The speed, the ferocity, the sharpness — as if capable of cleaving through every last barrier that existed. The overwhelming force of that sword stroke — as if it could pierce the heavens and split the earth. The yellow sand fled before its edge. The air itself was cut apart. Even the wind… scattered in its wake. This was a blow he had no way to dodge, no way to withstand.

Xiu Jiurong tilted his head back and opened his eyes, meeting with calm clarity the brilliant, dazzling, breathtaking — the stroke that was about to cleave him in two — bathed in the sunlight above.

My King — Jiurong pledges eternal loyalty to you. Until I — across the three realms and six paths — am utterly dissolved.

The purple figure’s lips curved upward with pride. The wrist swept straight downward, carrying absolute, ruthless dominance — the principal general of the Feng Cloud Cavalry would fall to this sword.

“Jiurong!”

With that one urgent, sharp cry, a white bolt seized the sword as it came slashing down from the air. The speed was faster than lightning itself. Xiu Jiurong, who had kept his eyes open the entire time, saw it with absolute clarity — that white silk came flying from behind and wrapped directly, steadily around that sword blade. That all-conquering, unstoppable blow was stopped in mid-air, a half-inch from his face.

The purple figure and the white figure landed together from the air. The sword and the white silk were still wound around each other. Huang Chao turned to look — just one glance — but it sent a cold chill from his body to the very core of his heart.

This Feng Xi… this grave, severe Feng Xi he had never seen before. Wasn’t Feng Xi’s face always wearing that languid expression, as if she’d never had quite enough sleep? Weren’t those clear, bright eyes always carrying a playful, amused glint?

The person before him now — was it the silver armor? That face like ice and frost, those eyes as cold as glacial ice ten thousand years old… like the most perfect sculpture carved from ice — beautiful to the extreme, and cold to the extreme. The killing intent radiating from her entire being was aimed entirely at him. Was it only because his sword had nearly taken this “Jiurong’s” life? So Feng Xi had this side to her as well… this was the side belonging to Feng Xiyun, Queen of Feng. This was Feng Xiyun’s presence. And from now on… they would only ever face each other this way.

Suddenly, the hand holding the sword went soft involuntarily. His heart felt as though it had been pricked by something — a faint, quiet ache. Feng Xi — is this what you meant when you said that lifelong friends are rare? Was our friendship truly this brief? I… why did you choose Feng Chang? Was it because of ten years? Ten years… enough time for the two of you to have bound so many things together… fused them together… to have things between you that even you cannot fully separate, cannot bring yourselves to cut away. Huang Chao — from this day forward, for you, I am only an enemy?

“Your Majesty…” Xiu Jiurong murmured softly. Something flooded into his eyes, blurring his sight. Something tore at his face, dimming his consciousness. At last… the final image in his eyes was that brilliant silver armor… and then everything, all of it, receded from him and sank into boundless darkness. His hand… still gripped the white phoenix banner tightly.

“Jiurong!”

Feng Xi swept forward and caught Xiu Jiurong as he toppled headfirst. She looked down — and suddenly bit hard on her lip, a sharp ache piercing her chest. This face… this face had been destroyed by that sword. Though she had intercepted the blade, she had not intercepted the fierce sword-energy it had released. That sword-energy had driven straight down from his brow to his nose, splitting his face in two. Jiurong — are you still alive?

She raised her gaze. Her eyes still held a trace of fury and hatred. But seeing the lost, dazed, grief-stricken expression on the face of the person opposite her, her heart filled instead with sorrow. Huang Chao… this is our fate. Born into this age of chaos… born into royalty… this is the destiny none of us can escape.

“Huang Chao, do you remember what I said to you that night?” Feng Xi’s voice rang out — clear and cold.

Huang Chao nodded. Those golden eyes had cleared again — bright and steady. He curled his lips, trying to smile the easy way he once had, that last smile between friends. But no matter how he tried, he could not make it radiant. In this moment, even his proud self was filled with boundless sorrow and desolation.

“Lifelong friends are rare.” Feng Xi’s voice was low, but it carried with perfect clarity into Huang Chao’s ears. She glanced down at Xiu Jiurong cradled in her arms, then raised her head. Her eyes swept across the whole battlefield — clear and cold as ice. It was already blanketed in white. The gold had grown faint and thin. “In this battle, I won. And so did you.”

“Yes,” said Huang Chao, and only then realized how low and heavy his voice sounded… how full of loss.

“But… we have both lost as well.” Feng Xi’s eyes at last returned to Huang Chao. In those eyes — clear as ice, deep as the sea — something seemed to have shattered, which was why her gaze carried that kind of terrible, piercing pain.

“Yes,” Huang Chao said, softly, so softly — as though a louder voice might crack those fractures even wider. Yet he knew that what had shattered could never be made whole again. Because it was he himself who had shattered it.

Feng Xi swept her hand outward. The white silk released the sword and retreated back into her sleeve. Her gaze withdrew. She tightened her hold on Xiu Jiurong, touched the tip of her foot to the ground, and rose from the formation. “When we meet again, perhaps only one of us can remain.”