In the Book of the East, Annals of the Nobles, Chapter on Feng King Xiyun, the historian Kunwu Dan — who bore the epithet “Sword Brush” — did not stint in his praise, writing that she possessed “the natural bearing of a phoenix, unrivaled talent, and a genius for war.” She fought in more than a hundred battles, large and small, throughout her life, and could be said to have never tasted defeat. Together with Huang Chao and Lanxi of her generation, she was counted among the Three Kings of the Age of Chaos. Yet however earth-shaking those battles were in their time, the pen of a historian who hoarded words as though they were gold would reduce them to a few short lines.

But for one event — on the morning of May 15th of the seventeenth year of the Ren reign, when Feng Xiyun ambushed and annihilated the Imperial Nation’s fifty thousand Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry in Lumen Valley with only ten thousand troops — that battle, though outnumbered and vastly victorious, left in the histories only this single line: The King shot the Imperial general from her arrow, and seemed as though her soul had left her body; she narrowly avoided being struck by a stray arrow. This sentence bequeathed to later generations a mysterious puzzle: in that battle, what was it that caused the Xiyun King — whom historians rated as “wise, clear-eyed, and principled” — to lose herself so completely?

Those of a sympathetic nature speculated that it must have been the combination of an entire night of forced march followed by the torrential downpour — that the Feng King, being a woman and of constitution long considered frail, was likely suffering dizziness at the time. Those of a romantic disposition speculated that the bronze-masked Imperial general she killed with a single arrow was her beloved, and that she had been compelled to shoot, causing profound anguish. And then there were those whose guesses ran rather further afield — that the Feng King had killed too many in that battle, angering the heavens, and what befell her in that moment was heaven’s brief chastisement.

However many speculations there were, not a single person knew the truth — not even the Feng Cloud Cavalry who had accompanied the Feng King into that battle could say why their queen had reacted as she did in that moment. They knew only that after that battle, their queen did not smile for a very long time.

On the second watch of the night on May 16th, the Feng King arrived at Yan City.

At the Hour of the Dragon on May 17th, the Feng King launched her assault on Yan City.

At the Hour of the Monkey on May 17th, the Feng King reclaimed Yan City. The three thousand Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry who had remained garrisoned there were destroyed.

On the outskirts of Yan City stood a small temple called Deguang Temple. All the monks had fled when the city fell, and the once-large temple was now utterly empty and still.

Feng Xi pushed open the half-closed gate and saw, at the very center of the main hall, a coffin.

She stepped inside. Only the quiet sound of her own footsteps. Her gaze fell upon the memorial tablet carved from rough wood, and her eyes ached. Something lodged in her chest, and with every breath her throat hurt with a raw, cutting pain. One step… then another… drawing closer to this old companion, who had accompanied and protected her for more than ten years. Her mind drifted back, hazy and distant, to the first time they had met in their youth. In that alley in the Feng capital — the dark-faced boy who had chased after her and demanded a rematch, his clothes already worn and torn further in the scuffle, his dark face swollen and puffy, his brown eyes blazing with stubborn, unyielding fury as he stared at her. If you can beat me at strength too, then I’ll listen to everything you say for the rest of my life…

“Bao Cheng…” The world blurred before her eyes. Her voice broke apart like a leaf scattered in the wind. The black coffin felt so impossibly far away — and in her haze, it seemed to be receding further still. No… she reached out her hand, and finally caught it. “Bao Cheng…”

The tears finally fell. She looked down at this narrow, humble coffin, and could not bring herself to believe that what lay inside was that great dark mountain of a man — the one the people of Feng reverently called General Iron Tower. Bao Cheng.

A soft sound came from the doorway. Had Bao Cheng’s spirit returned? Did he know she had come, and come to meet her? She spun around — and in the thin, pale light of approaching dawn stood a young monk of about fifteen or sixteen, a bundle of firewood in his arms.

“Fe— fem— General!” The young monk stared in some shock at the beautiful woman standing before the coffin in full silver armor. This benefactress must be a general — how else would she carry such commanding, awe-inspiring authority? And there seemed to be traces of tears on her face, which meant she had been crying just now — weeping for General Bao. Then she must be a good person.

“You are a monk of this temple?” Feng Xi recovered her composure and addressed the young monk in a measured tone.

“Yes… this humble monk is Renhui.” The young monk set down the firewood and pressed his palms together in greeting.

“You prepared General Bao’s memorial?” Feng Xi glanced at the coffin.

“Yes, this humble monk… this humble monk approached the Imperial general and… this humble monk wished to take care of General Bao’s remains. To my surprise, the Imperial general actually agreed — without making any trouble for this humble monk at all, he handed General Bao’s remains over to me. This humble monk… this humble monk only managed to find this coffin, and the General… the General…” Renhui spoke in fits and starts, glancing up at Feng Xi and then quickly looking down again. “This humble monk… this humble monk…”

“You didn’t flee when the city fell? Young as you are, you dared go and ask the Imperial soldiers for General Bao’s remains?” Feng Xi’s gaze settled on this young monk — an old grey robe, an ordinary, unadorned face, nothing particularly remarkable about him, except that his eyes were of an utterly pure and gentle kindness. That quality she had seen before in only one other pair of eyes.

“Are you not afraid of death?”

“This humble monk… this humble monk has no father, no mother, no family, no kin — wherever I go, it’s all the same. Besides, everyone else had gone. Someone had to stay to watch over the place and sweep away the dust.” Renhui, a little flustered under Feng Xi’s gaze, lowered his head and rubbed his shaved head. Then he looked up briefly at Feng Xi and looked down again, saying in a small voice: “The Imperial soldiers are people too. I thought they wouldn’t… Besides, General Bao was a hero. They said they respected heroes.”

“The benevolent know no fear.” Feng Xi studied the young monk for a long moment, then gave a faint nod. “Renhui? A fine name.”

Hearing Feng Xi praise him, Renhui broke into a gap-toothed smile, and some of the awed tension he had been holding eased. He ventured carefully: “Is the General a friend of General Bao’s? It is still so early — have you eaten yet? This humble monk has porridge cooking. Would the General like…”

Before he could finish, the urgent thunder of hoofbeats came from outside. Then Xu Yuan came striding quickly through the temple gate, followed by over a hundred Feng Cloud Cavalry soldiers. When they saw Feng Xi standing there unharmed, a collective breath of relief went through them.

“Your Majesty, you have not rested for two full days and nights — why did you slip away here alone again? If there were still Imperial remnants inside the city, you… would that not be dangerous? You are the Feng King!” Xu Yuan said it all in one urgent rush — rare for him — his gaze resting on their young queen with something close to reproach.

“That is enough.” Feng Xi raised a hand to stop him from continuing his lecture. “You—”

Before she could say more, the young monk beside her suddenly dropped to the ground with a thud, knocking his head against the floor in frantic prostration. “I pay my respects to… the Queen… this humble monk… this humble monk did not… did not… know…”

“Rise.” Feng Xi stepped over and extended a hand to help up the young monk, who had knocked a streak of dust across his forehead. Her expression was gentle. “Little Master Renhui, this queen owes you thanks.”

“Thanks… for me?” Renhui looked up at the noble queen before him, bewildered, and reflexively drew his hand back a little — he seemed somewhat unused to being held by a queen.

“Indeed.” Feng Xi turned, and her gaze moved over the coffin in the hall with an expression of sorrow. “Thank you for taking General Bao in.”

Xu Yuan, hearing this, looked over involuntarily. When he saw the black coffin, even his expression — which rarely showed emotion — was crossed by a deep and quiet grief. His lips pressed together tightly. His eyes dropped to the ground, as though he could not bring himself to look at the coffin — could not bring himself to believe that his brother lay inside.

“That… that is nothing for Your Majesty to thank me for.” Renhui’s ten fingers wound together, twisting tighter and tighter without realizing it. “I think… I think any person of Feng would have taken General Bao in.”

“Thinking so is one thing. Daring to act on it is another.” Feng Xi raised her hand and gave his shoulder a light pat.

“Mm?” Renhui looked at Feng Xi with an expression that was half understanding, half not.

To himself he thought: so this is what the queen is like. Not only very beautiful, but her voice is pleasant too — and not at all the way others sometimes wrinkle their noses at him for being dirty. She even patted his shoulder. He absolutely had to tell his master and senior brothers when they came back.

“You are in fact the bravest of all.” Feng Xi curved her lips slightly, as if attempting to give him a warm and kind smile — but the attempt faltered. For just an instant, what appeared in her eyes was boundless sorrow and deep, settled loss.

In that moment, the young monk Renhui felt that the queen’s smile was far too heavy — as though a weight of ten thousand jin pressed down upon her somewhat slender shoulders, and yet the queen still had to smile and carry it. He very much wanted to say something to her, the way his master spoke wisdom to the devotees who came to pray at the temple — something rooted in the teachings of the Buddha that might allow the queen to smile a lighter smile. But in that moment, so many passages from the teachings rushed through his mind all at once that he did not know which one to choose. In the end, he simply said quietly: “Your Majesty is the bravest person of all.”

And then he smiled at her, a warm, open smile. Whether it was his words or his smile that finally drew out a smile from the queen in return — she did smile. It was not a light or easy smile, but it was a genuine one. And in those clear, bright eyes, a faint trace of warmth could be seen.

Many years later, this man — Venerable Master Renhui, a monk of profound Buddhist learning who was revered by people across the land — would sometimes recall that one and only meeting with the Feng King in his youth, and would still say: “Feng King Xiyun was truly a brave person.”

But when he said those words then, the way he said them carried a weight of Buddhist sorrow and admiration — a weight that settled deep, all the way to the bottom of one’s heart. And so even though they were words of praise, those who heard them still felt within them a kind of helpless, aching grief.

Feng Xi turned her gaze one last time to the coffin, then gave the order: “Xu Yuan, send men to escort Bao Cheng’s remains back to the Feng capital.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty — please wait a moment!” Renhui seemed to remember something and suddenly ran into the back of the hall. A moment later he came out holding a long black arrow in his hands.

The instant Feng Xi saw the arrow, her gaze turned cold. Then she drew a slow, deep breath. “Is this…”

“Your Majesty, this was pulled from General Bao’s chest. I thought… I thought Your Majesty might perhaps… perhaps want it…” Renhui held the arrow out to Feng Xi, speaking haltingly — and stopped when he saw the expression on her face.

Feng Xi took the arrow. It was a long iron arrow, black, with a trace of darkened blood still on the tip. Her fingers moved along it slowly. Was it this arrow that had taken Bao Cheng’s life? This arrow — her gaze suddenly sharpened. On the tail of the arrow, a small character had been carved: Qiu. This was an arrow belonging to Qiu Jiushuang of the Imperial Nation. Then the one who attacked the city was indeed Qiu Jiushuang. The only one who could take Bao Cheng’s life in a single arrow would be her. But the one who appeared in Lumen Valley was… so where had she gone? Could it be…

Feng Xi jolted sharply back to full awareness, and immediately raised her voice in a shout: “Xu Yuan!”

“Your subject is here!”

“Pass the order — of the seven thousand Feng Cloud Cavalry remaining in Yan City, five thousand will depart with me at the Hour of the Dragon to return to the Valley of No Return. Two thousand will stay with you to hold Yan City. And send word to General Xie in the Feng capital — order him to dispatch ten thousand Imperial Guards to garrison Yan City at once.”

Inside the Valley of No Return.

“Young Master.” Qi Shu’s voice came from outside Feng Chang’s tent.

“Come in.” Feng Chang was reclining at ease on a soft couch inside, a chess board laid out before him. He was studying the game in solitary concentration.

“Young Master, the opposing Hua army has suddenly raised Imperial Nation banners today.” Qi Shu bowed as he entered.

“Oh?” Feng Chang, who had been gazing downward at the chess board, finally looked up. “Does this mean the Imperial Nation’s Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry has arrived at the Valley of No Return?”

“That is what I believe.” Qi Shu nodded. “But the King went personally to intercept the Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry. If they have appeared here, does that mean the King…”

Feng Chang gave a light, dismissive wave and rose to his feet. “That woman… the Feng King went to intercept them herself, so the Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry could not have passed her. Since they have now appeared at the Valley of No Return… then…” His eyes swept back to the chess board, and in an instant a flash of sharp insight crossed his gaze. “Then this must be a different unit of Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry.”

“A different unit?” Qi Shu asked. “How did they get here?”

“Ah, that question would have to be put to Young Master Huang Chao — I am afraid I cannot answer it for you at present.” Feng Chang gave a quiet smile, then added: “General Qi, pass the order — all Feng Cloud Cavalry, except those on watch, are to rest for a full day.”

“Why?” Qi Shu asked again. “Now that the Imperial Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry has appeared, should our forces not be on full alert?”

“If the Feng King were here, would you still have this many questions?” Feng Chang’s gaze settled on Qi Shu — lightly, unhurriedly — but those ink-dark eyes were fathomless.

That single glance was enough to make Qi Shu’s heart jolt. He immediately bowed his head. “Qi Shu will obey.”

“Dismissed.” Feng Chang remained as graceful and composed as ever, his expression showing not the slightest trace of displeasure.

“Yes!” Qi Shu bowed and withdrew.

“General Qi.”

Qi Shu had just reached the tent entrance when Feng Chang’s voice called out from behind him. He turned back at once. “Young Master, is there another instruction?”

“Send a message rider to the Feng King.” Feng Chang said it lightly. His ink-dark gaze drifted over the chess board, then returned to Qi Shu. “Though I know that even without my saying so, you would have sent a fast rider to the Feng King — I may as well mention it regardless. The rider need only head straight for Yan City.”

“Yes!” Qi Shu bowed his answer.

“You may go.” Feng Chang waved a hand.

Once Qi Shu had withdrawn, Feng Chang walked back to the couch and looked down at the chess board. A smile of quiet amusement touched his lips. “The Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry has indeed arrived. This time… the Valley of No Return is about to become very lively indeed.”

“Jiushuang pays her respects to the Young Master.”

“You’ve worked hard, Jiushuang.” Inside the Hua army’s tent, Huang Chao raised a hand to indicate that the newly arrived Qiu Jiushuang should rise.

“Young Master, has he not arrived yet?” Qiu Jiushuang scanned the tent and did not find the person she had expected to see.

“Still no word.” Huang Chao’s brow furrowed slightly. His gaze moved to the exterior of the tent, and he too showed a trace of worry.

“By all rights he should have arrived before me.” Qiu Jiushuang’s gaze moved to Yu Wuyuan standing beside Huang Chao, as if hoping he might offer an answer.

“The one who went personally to intercept him was Feng King Xiyun,” Yu Wuyuan said lightly. It seemed that was answer enough.

“If the Feng King went to stop him personally, then does that mean he…” Qiu Jiushuang’s brow drew tightly together.

“This long without any word — that leaves only two possibilities.” Yu Wuyuan’s gaze settled on Huang Chao, carrying a faint thread of quiet concern. “Either the entire force is trapped and unable to send word — or the entire force has been annihilated.”

“What?! That’s impossible!” Qiu Jiushuang gave a sharp cry of alarm.

But Huang Chao, hearing this, fell silent. He stared fixedly at the golden lion paperweight on the table. After a long moment, he said in a low and heavy voice: “It is possible. Feng Xi — Feng Xiyun — she has that capability.”

“But that is fifty thousand troops… and… if Feng Xiyun is Feng Xi, then how could she possibly…” Qiu Jiushuang murmured to herself, unable to bring herself to believe that fifty thousand Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry could be completely destroyed.

“Son-in-law!” A voice called from outside the tent.

“Enter.” A flash in Huang Chao’s eyes as he turned quickly toward the tent entrance.

A Hua deputy general stepped inside, holding something in both hands. He bowed before Huang Chao. “Son-in-law, while on patrol, this subordinate discovered an Imperial soldier on a small path three li from here — covered in wounds, and long since without breath. He was clutching tightly in his hand this half of a bronze mask.” He presented the object with both hands.

Qiu Jiushuang lunged forward and seized the mask. The moment her hands touched it, she could not stop them from shaking. She raised her head to look at Huang Chao, eyes brimming. Even the scar across her face seemed to be trembling. “Young Master… this is…”

Huang Chao reached out silently and took the half-mask. Blood still clung to it. His fingers traced over it — ice cold. The broken edge at the brow bore the unmistakable mark of something having pierced through. This… a single arrow through the forehead? Death from a single arrow? Feng Xi — could you truly bring yourself to be so ruthless?

“Yingzhou…” The voice came out low and full of grief. Something flickered in those golden eyes. He gripped the mask suddenly and fiercely, and from between his teeth squeezed out two words, cold and flat: “Feng Xi.” In that moment, he could not himself determine whether what he felt was hatred… or pain.

“General, you may withdraw.” Yu Wuyuan, who had been standing to the side, rose and addressed the Hua general who had been standing in the tent, uncertain what to do with himself.

“Yes.” The general bowed and withdrew.

“The day we received the Young Master’s orders, Yingzhou… he…” Qiu Jiushuang lowered her head to conceal the tears that were surfacing in her eyes. “He said nothing, but Jiushuang knew him — when he learned that the Feng King was none other than Bai Fengxi, the look in his eyes… he may have…”

“This time the fault is mine. The error was in my calculation.” Huang Chao waved a hand to stop Qiu Jiushuang from continuing. “I calculated the situation correctly, but I miscalculated the person — miscalculated a person’s heart… a person’s feelings.”

Yu Wuyuan heard this and his gaze shifted, falling on the mask in Huang Chao’s hand, and then sweeping across Huang Chao’s expression — heavy, cold, and pained. The cold light that flickered in those eyes drew from Yu Wuyuan a soundless sigh.

“Young Master, please allow Jiushuang to make a request.” Qiu Jiushuang suddenly dropped to her knees.

Huang Chao looked down at the subordinate kneeling before him. The mask crackled in his grip. His lips pressed together tightly. He did not answer for a long moment.

“Jiushuang, I know you want to avenge Yingzhou. But you have only just arrived after days of continuous riding — you are exhausted. You cannot match a Feng army that has been holding its position and conserving its strength.” Yu Wuyuan’s voice carried a faint trace of weariness, yet also a quiet gentleness that gradually quieted Qiu Jiushuang’s grief-stricken agitation.

“But… Young Master, since the Feng King led her forces to intercept Yingzhou, the Feng forces at the Valley of No Return must be reduced in number, and without their commander. This is the perfect moment to combine our Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry with the Golden Armor Cavalry and strike a devastating blow against the Feng army!” Qiu Jiushuang raised her head, her eyes blazing as she looked at the two young masters before her. “Young Master, please allow me to lead the troops forward.”

“Jiushuang, rise first.” Huang Chao finally spoke. He walked back to his chair and sat down. “Even without Feng Xiyun, Feng Lanxi is commanding the Feng forces.”

“Young Master…”

Huang Chao raised a hand and cut off Qiu Jiushuang’s words. “Jiushuang — the Valley of No Return still holds at least thirty thousand Feng Cloud Cavalry, and three of the six Feng Cloud generals are still here. Moreover, there is a Feng Lanxi who is even more unpredictable than Feng Xiyun herself. We absolutely cannot move rashly.”

“Jiushuang, you must be exhausted from days of riding. Go and rest first.” Yu Wuyuan helped the still-kneeling Qiu Jiushuang to her feet. “You are human, not iron.”

“Jiushuang, go rest.” Huang Chao also gave the word.

“Yes. Jiushuang takes her leave.” With no other choice, Qiu Jiushuang withdrew.

Once she was gone, Huang Chao held the bronze mask and stared at it for a long time. At last he let out a sigh. “That day in the Bai Nation, I saved Yingzhou when he was at death’s door. I thought heaven had blessed my Imperial Nation, unwilling to let such a great general be taken. And yet in the end… he still gave his life to Feng Xi.”

“When you concealed the news of Yingzhou’s survival, you kept him as a hidden move. That hidden move did work — it drew away the Feng army’s interception and allowed Jiushuang’s fifty thousand troops to reach the Valley of No Return safely. But that same hidden move was also undone by the concealment.” Yu Wuyuan’s gaze rested on the half bronze mask in Huang Chao’s hand. A trace of desolate sorrow surfaced in those otherwise tranquil eyes. “If Feng Xi had known that the face behind that mask once belonged to the Yingzhou whose life she had risked her own to save in the Xuan Mountains of the Bai Nation — then that arrow would never have been loosed.”

“Would it not have been loosed?” Huang Chao gave a sudden smile — faint and cold. “Wuyuan, in your heart, she is still that Bai Fengxi who danced and sang on the flowers atop the Qinglian Lake, isn’t she? Bai Fengxi would not shoot Yingzhou dead. But Feng Xiyun would absolutely have loosed that arrow — because she is the King of Feng. And Yingzhou — was the Lieying General of the Imperial Nation.”

Yu Wuyuan heard this and turned his head, his gaze drifting blankly outside the tent. He raised his hand slightly, as though to press his fingertips against his brow — then let it drop halfway, and lowered his gaze to his own palm. His voice was clear, but carried not a particle of weight as it floated through the tent. “If you truly had no feeling for her — how would you still remember ‘dancing on the flowers, singing by the water’?”

Huang Chao’s fists tightened slightly at this. He was silent for a long moment. Then he released them, and his gaze fell upon the blood-stained bronze mask. His voice was flat, clear, and cold. “What exists now — is only Feng Xiyun.”

Yu Wuyuan turned to look at him — his gaze unhurried and without a ripple — then sat back down. After a moment he said: “In this exchange, you seem to have reached another stalemate. Jiushuang killed Bao Cheng; she killed Yingzhou. You sacrificed fifty thousand Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry; she lost five thousand Feng Cloud Cavalry and fifty thousand Imperial Guards. She reclaimed Yan City; your army has reached the Valley of No Return.”

“Feng Xiyun — what blessing did heaven bestow upon her?!” Huang Chao looked up at the ceiling of the tent, as if gazing at that heaven-gifted, dazzling woman in white. “Wuyuan, I cannot wait any longer. Tomorrow — I need only wait until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Yu Wuyuan looked at him steadily. “Feng Chang — the Valley of No Return still holds thirty thousand Feng Cloud Cavalry. Even with sixty thousand troops of your own, to completely destroy the Feng army would be a hard and bitter fight.”

“Hard and bitter — even if it becomes a bloodbath, it must be fought!” Huang Chao suddenly rose to his feet. “Feng Xiyun will certainly learn of my movements very quickly. I must annihilate these thirty thousand Feng Cloud Cavalry before she can lead her forces back to the Valley of No Return. Once the Feng Cloud Cavalry is gone, the Feng Nation will have lost more than half of its foundation.”

“From the probing of these past days, you should have come to know — Feng Lanxi is an opponent of unfathomable depth. If you do not plan with thorough care, if you do not have complete confidence, then even victory will be a ruinous one.” Yu Wuyuan’s hands came together quietly, his gaze falling to the dark reddish-brown carpet beneath his feet. His voice was calm and clear. “A ruinous victory — is the same as a defeat.”

“If only…” Huang Chao rose and walked to stand before Yu Wuyuan, then reached out and lifted his hand. Those golden-brown eyes burned with the brilliance of a blazing sun. “If you would take the field, I would have complete confidence.”

Yu Wuyuan raised his gaze at this and looked at him. His expression remained perfectly serene. “Huang Chao, I said long ago — I will do everything within my power to assist you. But I will never…”

“Never take the field yourself and personally kill a single person, is that it?” Huang Chao said it for him, looking down at those hands in his, white and smooth as the finest jade. “These hands — they still refuse to be stained with so much as a drop of blood themselves. The people of the Yu family — minds of incomparable brilliance, appearances and bearing that are effortlessly, peerlessly elegant, and a compassionate heart like the Bodhisattva’s, forever honored and cherished by the people of the world. Your Yu family truly is uncommonly blessed by heaven.”

“A mind of incomparable brilliance… uncommonly blessed by heaven, the Yu family…” Yu Wuyuan’s gaze grew hazy as he looked at his own hands. After a long silence, the faintest smile surfaced — sad and bitter. “Heaven has always been fair to all people. The Yu family may seem to possess everything others envy — but they also possess that which others fear. That is heaven’s punishment for the Yu family. We do not kill with our own hands — but is assisting you not also killing? Helping you seize the world without personally taking a single life… this is the fate of the Yu family, and its… pitiable principle.”

“Wuyuan, even though you said you would help me — even though our hands are still clasped together at this very moment — there is something I cannot…” Huang Chao’s gaze fixed intently on Yu Wuyuan’s face, as though trying to see through that perfectly calm and untroubled expression to whatever lay beneath. “I cannot truly hold you. Feng Xi is someone I cannot catch. And you are someone I can never see through or read.”

Yu Wuyuan gave a faint smile and drew back his hand. He rose to his feet. The two men were nearly of a height, and looked at one another directly. “Huang Chao, you need only know this one thing: before you have taken hold of this world, I will not leave you. The Yu family always fulfills their promises.”

“Son-in-law! Son-in-law! The Feng King has returned to the Valley of No Return!” An urgent shout came from outside the tent.

Both men moved quickly out of the tent. Across the way, the white phoenix banner was flying through the gathering dusk — strikingly, vividly clear.

“She always seems to fall outside your calculations.” Yu Wuyuan looked across at the Feng forces in motion, listening to the distant sound of cheering, and gave a faint sigh.

“Feng Xiyun — she is truly a formidable rival.” Huang Chao gazed across the distance, and his expression was not one of frustration or vexation — rather, a smile crossed his face, full of confidence and pride. “Only a battle against someone like this is worthy of this age of chaos. Only a world like this, only a person like this — is worth fighting for.”

“The decisive battle at the Valley of No Return is about to officially begin.” Yu Wuyuan tilted his head back and looked up at the sky. In the gathering dusk, the stars had not yet emerged. “In truth, the Valley of No Return was never meant to be the place where the two of you settle this. Your other hidden move…”

“That hidden move — even I did not dare be certain of it. How could Feng Xiyun possibly have calculated it.” Huang Chao stood with his hands clasped behind him. His purple-clad figure in the gathering dusk appeared tall and upright, his imperious bearing so absolute that even the deepening dark seemed unable to dim it much.

“Your Majesty, you’re finally back!”

Inside the Feng army’s royal tent, the generals of the Feng Cloud Cavalry rushed in at once, their faces bright with excitement. Even Xiu Jiurong, whose injuries were not yet healed, had come.

“Mm.” In contrast to the excited relief of those around her, Feng Xi was far too quiet — even carrying a trace of detachment.

“Jiurong, how are your injuries?” Her gaze moved gently over Xiu Jiurong’s face. The wound on his face, being in an awkward location, could not be bandaged properly and had only been thickly packed with medicinal powder — blood had congealed around it, leaving a rough dark stripe that made his face look quite alarming. Her heart contracted involuntarily, and a brief warmth and pain touched her eyes.

“Thank you for Your Majesty’s concern. Jiurong is well.” Xiu Jiurong bowed in thanks and raised his face slightly — which bore an expression of complete composure. No pain, no hatred, no grievance, no regret.

“While your injuries are unhealed, you are not to leave the camp, expose yourself to the wind, or allow contact with water. This is a royal command.” Feng Xi’s voice was calm and self-possessed, but the meaning behind her words was light and gentle.

The instant Xiu Jiurong heard this, his eyes brightened. He raised his head and looked at Feng Xi for a moment, then bowed his head. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Jiurong understands.”

Feng Xi gave a faint nod, then turned to look at Qi Shu. “Qi Shu — while I was absent, how was everything here in the valley?”

“Hmm…” Qi Shu heard this and instinctively looked at the other three, who likewise looked back at him. “Well, after Your Majesty’s departure… hmm…”

How exactly should this be explained? Qi Shu looked at Feng Xi seated in her chair, waiting serenely for his report, and tried to decide how to put it.

Fundamentally, after Feng Xi left the valley, the Feng Cloud Cavalry had… well, more or less done nothing. At least, they had not exchanged a single blow with the Hua army. But to say they had done nothing would not quite be right either — they had done a few things, only those things were not particularly easy to bring up.

The Hour of the Dragon, May 15th.

They had gone to Feng Chang’s tent to receive their instructions, and received precisely one order: before the end of the Hour of the Snake, find one hundred and thirty-six large stones, each at least five chi high and weighing at least one hundred jin. Then Young Master Feng had given a casual wave of his hand to dismiss them, and had himself — allegedly — spent the rest of the morning sitting quietly with his eyes closed in meditation inside his tent, and did not emerge.

Since the King had said that in her absence they must obey Young Master Lanxi’s orders without question, they swallowed their many doubts and took five thousand soldiers to go find stones. They just barely managed to transport one hundred and thirty-six stones that met his requirements before the end of the Hour of the Snake.

The Hour of the Rooster, May 15th.

Young Master Feng finally stepped out of his tent. He directed a group of soldiers to carry all the large stones to the central no-man’s land between the two armies. He then dismissed the soldiers and spent a long while standing there alone in contemplation. After that, they watched as he raised a sleeve — and a stone dropped. Raised the sleeve — and a stone dropped. Those one hundred and thirty-six stones, each weighing more than a hundred jin, were placed by the Young Master with nothing more than a light swing of his sleeve, each one landing at some precise point.

Once it was all done, Young Master Feng dusted off his hands and then left one instruction: no soldier of the Feng Cloud Cavalry was to approach within three zhang of this stone formation.

They had long followed Feng Xi and considered themselves quite familiar with unusual formations and stratagems — but this stone formation he had laid down they could not make heads or tails of. Only that when they drew somewhat close, their bodies would involuntarily begin to tremble, as though something deeply terrifying lay just ahead — some kind of demon or monster — triggering in them an instinctive dread.

May 16th.

A Hua army general led a thousand troops to probe the formation. When they went to report this to Feng Chang, the Young Master was inside his tent painting — a work of ink orchids. Upon hearing their report, he finally looked up at them, paused his brush briefly, and then said lightly: Let them attack. Then he continued painting. As they left the tent they could still hear his voice: Tujie, soften the laughter in your eyes just a little — that is the bearing of a dignified young lady.

The Shizi of the Imperial Nation outside the formation did not charge through either. He simply stood before it in focused study for a long while, then withdrew his troops.

That day, it was said, the Young Master painted a total of twenty-two pictures.

But the result — on that day, they witnessed for the first time the true capabilities and terrifying nature of Young Master Lanxi, who shared equal renown with their queen. It also shattered the image they had held of him as a gentle and harmless person.

A thousand Hua soldiers entered the formation — and not a single one came out alive. Those standing outside the formation watched with complete clarity as every last one of those thousand Hua soldiers became as though possessed by demons, utterly losing their reason, and began slaughtering one another. They themselves had not engaged in the battle — they had only watched. And yet compared to fighting the enemy themselves… this was far more terrifying.

They had always thought the Blood Phoenix Formation was the bloodiest formation in the world. But what lay before them now — this was the most ferocious, most brutal formation in existence. In the Blood Phoenix Formation, they at least participated directly in the fighting; the blood that ran was blood they themselves had shed with their own hands. But in this — without deploying a single soldier — those Hua soldiers raised their blades against their own companions without hesitation, with absolute ruthlessness, with savage ferocity. Severed limbs flew, blood sprayed across the ground. They had not known, until that moment, what a bone-chilling thing it was to stand outside a formation and watch the enemy destroy themselves.

In that moment, they felt a kind of awe-tinged reverence toward this Young Master Lanxi who always wore that composed, easy smile. So gentle and approachable on the surface — yet in action, so brutal and cold. And toward their queen, what they felt was only pure admiration — the kind that arose from the very depths of their hearts, the kind that made one willing to follow her unto death.

May 17th.

The Hua army’s son-in-law, Huang Chao, personally took the field.

They went at once to Feng Chang’s tent to report. Surely now, with the Shizi of the Imperial Nation — whose reputation was no less than his own — personally taking the field, he would show a little tension. But when they entered the tent, the Young Master was in the middle of painting a portrait of one of the serving girls, while three other serving girls hovered nearby — well, attended upon him nearby, though standing perhaps a touch too close. Upon hearing their report, the Young Master did finally look up at them, pausing his brush for a moment, and then gave a faint smile. Understood. And continued painting. As they walked out of the tent they could still hear his quiet, smiling voice: Tujie, pull the smile in your eyes in just a little — that is the bearing of a dignified young lady.

The Shizi of the Imperial Nation outside the formation never charged either. He simply stood before it in focused concentration for a long time, and then withdrew his troops.

That day, it was said, the Young Master painted a total of twenty-two pictures.

May 18th.

The Hua army sent no troops to attack. But a young man in robes white as snow arrived — strolling over with the ease of someone taking a casual walk in a courtyard. He came to stand before the stone formation and simply stood there in quiet stillness — and yet, in an instant, all of them felt as though those large stones had suddenly taken on an air of immortal grace, as though a celestial being had touched them and given them a kind of living spirit. The white-robed figure’s transcendent bearing and celestial appearance were wholly at odds with the brutal, blood-soaked stone formation — someone like that seemed as though he should appear atop a lofty peak beside a clear stream, not here.

They went to report to Feng Chang as usual, half expecting that with only a single enemy having arrived, the Young Master would not even bother to nod. To their surprise, the Young Master — who had been in the middle of playing a qin — actually stopped, turned, and fixed a sharp gaze on the messenger. You’re saying Yu Wuyuan has come? Without waiting for an answer, he rose and walked out of the tent.

Before the stone formation, two young masters stood facing each other on either side — one in black, one in white. One noble and graceful, the other ethereal as an immortal. One with a faint smile, the other with a serene expression. Neither said a word. They simply looked at one another in silence. The atmosphere appeared tranquil — and yet every one of them felt unable to take a single step closer. They observed from several zhang away. The world, in that moment, became extraordinarily quiet, as though only the soft sound of wind moving through black robes and white robes still existed.

What happened after — they could only see white and black flickering through the stone formation, as if two immortals were chasing each other in play, both utterly at ease, unhurried, feet never touching the ground, and yet moving with extraordinary speed. The white-robed figure, who had clearly been on the left a moment ago, would blink and appear on the right. The black-robed figure, who had clearly been standing with his back to them, would suddenly be facing them in an instant. Now one would alight on a stone, now the other would vanish into the formation. Some stones would fly up; some would be shattered in mid-air; some would move on their own. But none of that was what held their attention — their gazes followed helplessly after those two figures, who throughout had never once changed expression, never lost their composure for even a moment. They did not seem to be engaged in a decisive duel. They seemed… only to be playing a game of chess.

And then the two of them walked back out of the formation — as easily and lightly as though nothing at all had happened — and each returned to their respective camps.

That night, it was said, the Young Master sat in meditation throughout the entire night to restore his energy.

May 19th. Nothing of note.

Someone had asked the Young Master: given the balance of forces at the Valley of No Return, the Feng Cloud Cavalry was far superior to the Golden Armor Cavalry — why not launch a single decisive strike and annihilate the Hua army outright?

His answer: the Feng King only entrusted me with holding the Valley of No Return. She gave no instruction to attack.

At the end of the Hour of the Monkey, May 19th, the King returned.

“Qi Shu.”

The clear voice rang out again. Qi Shu startled out of his thoughts, raised his head, and found the King watching him with quiet patience, waiting for his answer.

“Hmm — Your Majesty, everything in the camp is well.” Qi Shu felt this was the only answer there was.

“I see.” Feng Xi did not press further. She gave a light nod, and her gaze moved — Feng Chang was walking over from outside the tent at his easy pace, a folded fan swaying in his hand. On the fan’s face: a painting of ink orchids.

“Your Majesty, the Imperial Nation’s Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry has arrived at the Valley of No Return — we must…” Cheng Zhi was already reporting urgently.

“I know.” Feng Xi raised a hand. She looked at Feng Chang and rose from her chair. “These past days have been considerable trouble for the Young Master. Xiyun thanks you here.”

“Lanxi has done nothing deserving of thanks. The Feng King need not say so.” Feng Chang smiled faintly.

“Your Majesty, how did you return so quickly? The Imperial Nation’s Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry has appeared here — does that mean you did not encounter them on the road?” Qi Shu voiced the question.

“In Lumen Valley, I ambushed and annihilated the fifty thousand Conqueror of Heaven Cavalry.”

All the generals turned eyes that brightened at once toward their queen — their expressions filled with admiring reverence. Feng Chang’s gaze, however, fell on Feng Xi’s eyes — those eyes covered as if with a thin layer of ice, beneath which there was not a single trace of joy.

Feng Xi lowered her gaze for a moment to look at her own hands, then clasped them behind her back. “The force that attacked Yan City numbered fifty thousand. The one who shot and killed Bao Cheng was Qiu Jiushuang. But behind those fifty thousand came another fifty thousand — after Yan City fell, they split into two groups. Qiu Jiushuang must have led her forces north around Mengshan at the border of the Hua and Feng nations to arrive here. Huang Chao — this move was completely beyond my expectations.”

“Your Majesty, the Hua forces have increased significantly, while our forces have sustained considerable losses. Should we send urgent word to General Xie to dispatch additional Imperial Guards?” Qi Shu ventured.

Feng Xi did not answer him. Her gaze rested on Feng Chang. Then a faint smile touched her lips. “The Valley of No Return has become quite lively this time — three of the Four Great Cavalries are already assembled here. How could it be without the Mo Yu Cavalry of Feng Nation? Don’t you agree, Young Master Lanxi?”

Feng Chang looked up to meet Feng Xi’s gaze. Her face was perfectly calm and serene, and those eyes of hers were both bright and deep — bright as ice, deep as an abyss — with not the slightest trace of her inner feelings visible to any outside gaze.

“If the Feng King requires the Mo Yu Cavalry’s service, Lanxi naturally has no objection.” At last, Feng Chang lowered his gaze and answered.

“Your Majesty, surely this isn’t…” The generals were all taken aback and moved as one to advise against it.

Feng Xi raised a hand and stopped them. She settled back with graceful ease into her chair, her gaze sweeping over her generals with composure. “You may not yet know — after the battle at the Valley of No Return, Feng Nation of the white and Feng Nation of the black will conclude an alliance pact. The two nations pledge to be as one, to share in fortune and adversity together.”

All the generals in the tent looked at one another.

“Does anyone have an objection?” Feng Xi’s voice was clear and cool.

“We follow Your Majesty’s command!” The generals bowed as one.

“Young Master Lanxi, I imagine you have long been prepared. The Mo Yu Cavalry can reach Feng Nation at any time?” Feng Xi’s gaze turned once again to Feng Chang, light and quietly cool.

Feng Chang heard this and looked steadily at Feng Xi, his fathomless dark eyes fixed intently on hers. This calm, detached gaze — this gaze utterly devoid of any emotion — had never appeared before in Feng Xi’s eyes. This was a Feng Xi he had never faced.

“Lanxi has said it — the Mo Yu Cavalry stands ready to serve the Feng King at any time.” After a long silence, Feng Chang’s unhurried voice finally filled the tent, elegant and precise, with not a single ripple.

“Then…” Feng Xi swept her gaze back across her generals. “Qi Shu, send the order by fire signal — instruct the garrison general at Liang City to open the gates and allow the Mo Yu Cavalry to pass through.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

“All soldiers of the Valley of No Return — except those on watch, the entire force rests tonight.” Feng Xi gave the next instruction. “Tomorrow at the Hour of the Dragon, all generals assemble in the royal tent.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

“Dismissed.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”