In the early fourth month of the eighteenth year of the Ren reign, the Feng King Xiyun set out for Feng Guo.

On the sixth day of the fourth month, the Feng King arrived at Feng Guo’s border city of Liang City.

On the seventh day of the fourth month, the Feng King arrived at Feng Guo’s border city of Dian City, where the Feng Guo ruler had dispatched his royal brother, the Marquis of Xun’an, to receive her in person.

By the twelfth day of the fourth month, the Feng King’s party had reached a point ten li outside Fengdu.

“What is that fragrance?”

“Yes — it smells wonderful!”

“It must be the scent of orchids?”

“Are there orchids blooming now?”

“Exactly — you must be so fixated on orchids that you’re imagining every flower’s scent is orchid fragrance…”

“Oh, hush! Saying things like that — if the Queen were to hear…”

“Hehe… well, am I wrong…”

“You’re one to talk — stop laughing at me…”

…

From within the long procession of carriages, faint strains of young women’s lively chatter floated out. They were the palace maids accompanying the Feng King on this journey — each one youthful and spirited, accustomed to playful banter among themselves in their daily lives. But half a month spent sitting in carriages had left them feeling like birds in a cage. Now that a faint fragrance drifted in on the breeze, their spirits lifted involuntarily, and they began to exchange quiet, giggly whispers.

“Who would have expected orchids to be blooming at this time of year!” Inside the royal carriage, with its golden roof and jade-inlaid curtains hung in layers, Jiuwei lifted one corner of the drape and a thread of cool fragrance slipped in on the morning breeze. In an instant his mind felt refreshed. “This orchid fragrance is both pure and far-reaching — truly rare.”

Xiyun also lifted a corner of the curtain. Her gaze drifted briefly to the window outside, where threads of pale golden morning sunlight were streaming in. “The first-generation ruler of Feng Guo, Feng Ji, was known as the ‘Ink Snow Orchid King.’ It is said he had skin white as snow and hair black as ink, and was of extraordinary handsomeness. Contrary to his ancestral Phoenix King, who favored silver armor and white robes, he preferred black robes and dark armor, and cherished orchids above all else. Among the seven great generals who founded their nations, he governed his most ably, with the most distinguished record of achievement. He created Feng Guo’s ‘Orchid Brilliance Age of Prosperity,’ and the world honored him as the ‘Orchid Brilliance King.’ The people of Feng Guo love and admire him deeply, and the entire nation plants orchids as a sign of their reverence and affection. So beyond being called the Black Feng Nation to distinguish it from our White Feng Nation, Feng Guo has another name — it is called the ‘Nation of Orchids.'”

She let the curtain fall and closed her eyes, drawing in a breath of the orchid fragrance. For no particular reason, a faint sigh rose in her heart. The carriage continued at its unhurried pace, and the orchid fragrance grew closer and clearer, exactly like that person’s scent. She murmured half to herself: “I wonder whether these orchids are black or white.”

Jiuwei let the curtain fall too — as though to stop the orchid fragrance from outside from drifting in further, or as though to prevent the orchid fragrance inside from seeping out. His gaze passed lightly over Xiyun’s face. That face was perfectly still and composed. Only her fingertips, quietly and almost without realizing it, gave the faintest tap against the armrest.

“It is said that when Lanxi of Feng Guo was born, orchids bloomed across the entire nation, and since his birth the orchids of Feng Guo’s Lanling Palace have bloomed without regard for season — flowering through all four seasons without interruption.” Jiuwei said suddenly, a faint, meaningful smile rising to his face. “Fengdu has not yet been reached, the flowers have not yet been seen, and yet the fragrance has already been smelled. It seems the tale is not false after all.”

“And so Feng Guo has that legend — that Young Master Lanxi is the reincarnation of the Ink Snow Orchid King, a master sent by heaven to Feng Guo.” Xiyun opened her eyes and said quietly with a smile, yet there was no smile in her eyes — only an unending note of irony. “Such legends…” She seemed about to say something, but in the end only let fall a perfectly noncommittal remark: “How very impressive.”

Jiuwei heard this and patted Xiyun’s hand, giving a faint smile, and said nothing more.

The carriage suddenly stopped. The voice of an attendant outside rose: “Your Majesty, Feng Guo’s envoy sent to receive you has arrived.”

“Already?” Xiyun seemed briefly startled. Then she rose, walked to the carriage door — and then stopped, her gaze settling with a faint dazed look on the curtain that hung before her. After a moment she let out a silent sigh. “We have truly arrived.”

The attendant outside opened the carriage door and drew back the pearl curtain. Four palace maids stepped in, accompanied by that cool, delicate orchid fragrance, and bowed together: “We respectfully invite Your Majesty to descend.”

Two palace maids lifted the pearl curtain; two others supported Xiyun on either side. She shifted her steps lightly, stepping out of the carriage — and the cool orchid fragrance swept directly toward her. In the instant she raised her eyes, her whole body gave an involuntary shudder.

Before the carriage stretched the great avenue leading into Fengdu, and along both sides of the road stood pot after pot of white orchids in bloom. Down the center of the road lay a brocade carpet, brilliant as morning rosy clouds, and scattered across the carpet were orchid petals white as snow — a sight like snow engulfing red plum blossoms, or red plum blossoms wrapped in snow: at once pure and vivid, at once magnificent and refined. Looking as far as the eye could see, the flowers and the road stretched on like a long river, endless without a visible boundary. The morning sun gilded this river of flowers with a thin layer of golden light, dressing it in a faint and splendid blush — in that radiant, dazzling brightness, it was as though one stood at the threshold of a flower-lined avenue leading straight to the heavenly realm.

“What an extraordinary welcoming ceremony.”

Jiuwei’s voice drifted in from outside the dream, a gentle knock upon that dreamlike door. In the instant she returned to herself, even she could not quite determine what she was feeling in her heart. Was it wonder? Doubt? Joy? Or sorrow?

“Xi’er, perhaps you two are at the start of a new journey.” Jiuwei looked at that dreamlike flower road and could not help but sigh from the depths of his heart. “This could not have been done without genuine feeling behind it.”

She turned to glance at Jiuwei, then let a faint smile bloom on her face. That smile was utterly weightless — as fleeting and intangible as orchid fragrance in the breeze. But within her eyes there was something deeply heavy, which lent that smile a trace of inescapable, helpless wistfulness.

“We welcome the Feng King with all reverence!”

A great crowd dropped to their knees before the carriage, and that resounding cry of welcome seemed almost able to shake loose the petals from this flower road too beautiful to seem real.

“Ren Chuanyun respectfully receives the Feng King!” A man in silver brocade robes knelt alone at the head of the crowd.

Supported by her attendants, moving her light steps, descending the jade steps… Beneath her feet was the soft, continuous red carpet; at the tip of her shoes were those snow-white orchid petals; moving her gaze, she saw the dense crowd of people kneeling in welcome; raising her eyes, she saw the blue sky with its drifting clouds; that clear fragrance wound around her like mist and smoke… Was this his sincerity?

“Rise.” Her clear voice carried on the wind far into the distance.

“We give thanks to the Feng King!”

“Please, Your Majesty, to the royal palanquin.” The man in silver robes stepped forward with a bow.

Xiyun turned her head to glance at the man in silver robes and smiled faintly. “Thank you, General Chuanyun.”

Ren Chuanyun raised his eyes, which were bright and clear. “The Feng King still remembers Chuanyun?”

“Of course.” Xiyun gave a slight nod, then stepped toward the royal palanquin that had been prepared and waiting — and felt another quiet sigh in her heart.

The palanquin’s pillars were fashioned from blue crystal, its railings from red coral, its roof adorned with jade — half in dark ink jade and half in snow white jade, each in the shape of a crescent moon, meeting together to form one full circle. The roof was then covered entirely with ink orchids and snow orchids, alternating black and white — like a ground of jade scattered with ink-jade butterflies fallen in the snow. When the breeze passed, they seemed to fan their fragrant wings. Vermilion-red gauze hung down from all four sides, and within, the faint outline of a jade chair shaped like a phoenix with wings spread could be discerned.

Seeing Xiyun standing in a daze, her gaze seeming to rest upon the palanquin and yet also to pass straight through it — the expression on her face impossible to read as joy or as composure — after a long moment she was seen to part her lips slightly as if about to speak, then close them silently once more. But in that instant, Ren Chuanyun seemed to hear from deep within her heart a long, profound sigh.

“Chuanyun once said: when the Feng King graces Feng Guo with her presence, my Young Master will receive her with ten li of brocade laid beneath her feet.” Ren Chuanyun suddenly spoke at a volume only the two of them could hear, recalling the words from their first meeting in Bai Guo long ago. His gaze fixed unblinkingly on Xiyun, as though hoping to glean some trace of information from her expression. After a long moment, he was mildly disappointed.

He saw only a faint, elegant, and composed smile open on Xiyun’s face. Her gaze drifted along the long flower road. “Ten li of brocade, ten li of flowers… Your Young Master is truly far too generous.” Her voice was so calm and unruffled, and yet so impossible to read.

She stepped forward. Palace servants had already drawn back the rosy silk curtain. She settled into the snow-white phoenix throne. Her hands came to rest at her sides, her palms upon the spread phoenix wings. She lowered her eyes gently, and then the long ceremonial cry rang out: “The Feng King’s palanquin departs!”

The palanquin was lifted smoothly and made its way toward Fengdu at a steady, unhurried pace. Along the route, Feng Guo’s people cried out in waves of welcome. The flower road — brilliant as fire, pure as snow — and that delicate fragrance that seemed to have soaked into the very bones… The cold and warmth of snow and flame entwined together; the hand in her lap was by turns cold and warm. That faint fragrance — no matter how she breathed — wound always at the tip of her nose, coiling around her heart and lungs.

It seemed as though a whole lifetime had passed, and yet also as though no more than the blink of an eye. Something indistinct seemed to draw near in the haze. She opened her eyes. Through the thin gauze curtain, she could see clearly ahead: beneath a tall city gate, a figure stood. A tall crown, royal robes of state, standing still in the breeze — so noble, and yet so… distant.

The palanquin stopped. She raised her hand slightly. The center of her palm was warm and faintly damp. She drew a slow, deep breath, then let it out gently. She closed her fist, raised her head, and stepped forward. The vermilion gauze drifted down behind her, as though carrying with it a breath of cool air — and her spine gave an involuntary shiver.

“We welcome the Feng King with all reverence!”

A great crowd dropped to their knees — that thunderous cry of welcome set her eardrums ringing. Yet that one figure remained still and upright, his ink-dark royal robes embroidered with gold thread, all the more cultivated and gracious for it — and utterly unfathomable.

She stepped forward, moving toward him. The distance should have been very close — and yet she felt as though she could walk for a lifetime and never draw near.

Their eyes met. A faint smile of greeting passed between them. At last, a hand extended. Theirs clasped together. In that moment, both involuntarily broke into a knowing smile — and the centers of both their palms were warm and faintly damp.

In the very instant their fingertips touched, a cry of jubilation rose straight up to the heavens: “A union blessed by heaven! Hand in hand through a hundred generations! Walking together through ten thousand years!”

And in the moment those joyful cries subsided, the celebratory music rose — light and harmonious, so joyful and bright. It was the piece known as “Phoenix and Luan Bird in Harmonious Song.”

Hand in hand they walked — across that brocade road scattered with orchid petals of every color, fragrant beyond words; past those ministers and subjects kneeling in jubilant welcome. Their hands remained clasped throughout. The warmth in their palms remained throughout. Now and then a glance exchanged sideways; now and then eyes meeting; now and then a quiet smile passed between them. It seemed as though they could walk on like this forever — except that every road, having a beginning, must have an end.

“This is Xifeng Terrace.”

When they came to a stop, Lanxi’s unhurried voice reached her ear. She turned to look at him. His face was composed, his graceful smile unchanged, and his eyes were still as fathomlessly deep as the night.

Xifeng — Stilling the Wind. She smiled faintly and could not help another quiet sigh in her heart. Today seemed to be the day she had sighed more than any other day in her life. She raised her eyes to look at Xifeng Terrace. It was clearly newly built, constructed in preparation for her arrival.

The terrace rose in three tiers, each perfectly circular in shape like a full moon, approximately two zhang in height, ascending in a tapering form. The first and lowest tier was the widest, capable of accommodating several hundred people; the second was somewhat smaller, but could still hold more than a hundred; the topmost tier measured roughly four zhang across, and upon it had already been placed a grand chair carved with dragons and phoenixes. At a distance of two zhang before the chair, one table and one chair had been placed on either side.

The entire terrace was constructed of fine white Hanyu marble — crystalline and unblemished — yet at this moment red silk and colorful ribbons wound around it, and a vermilion-red brocade carpet had been laid all the way up, making it vivid and festive in appearance. In the sunlight, the glazed jade-green tiles at the roof of the terrace gleamed with dazzling brilliance, and the plaque bore the three characters “Xifeng Terrace” rendered in bold vermilion script, striking and vivid to the eye.

“The Great King arrives!”

The shrill cry of an attendant carried from far away, and then every minister and subject before Xifeng Terrace prostrated themselves on the ground.

Looking into the distance, a ceremonial procession with a grand canopy advanced slowly forward. What manner of man was this Feng King, who had ruled Feng Guo for nearly forty years? By the protocol of national ceremony, she was a ruler equal in standing to him, and properly speaking he ought to have received her at the city gates — but by the rites of family, she was now his daughter-in-law, and his arriving now was not without propriety.

“You always call me a fox — but surely you have never seen a truly ancient and cunning fox, have you?” Lanxi’s voice sounded just at her ear, so low that not a second person could possibly hear.

Hearing this, Xiyun turned to glance at Lanxi — and found him already wearing an expression of complete propriety, his gaze directed straight ahead.

At last the Feng King had drawn near. He stopped at a distance of one zhang and did not speak first — instead he studied her, seeming to weigh and assess this daughter-in-law of his who was the queen of Feng Guo.

Xiyun stood quietly, her composure undisturbed as she let the Feng King look her over — while at the same time studying this future father-in-law of hers.

At first glance, she found him very tall, very thin, and very old. The elaborate and costly royal robes worn on his frame made him appear all the more gaunt and skeletal. His face was so thin the flesh could hardly be seen, layer upon layer of wrinkles like fallen yellow chrysanthemum petals — yet his eyes alone, though deeply sunken, remained extraordinarily bright. Looking more carefully, one could still discern in those refined features the shadow of a distinguished appearance in his younger years: those long eyes with their slightly upswept corners, those ink-dark pupils — both bore a striking resemblance to the person beside her. Even the calculating glint deep within those eyes was one and the same.

At his side stood a middle-aged woman of considerable beauty. Though no longer young, she retained seven parts of aristocratic splendor and three parts of glamour, and her expression carried a haughty disdain for those beneath her station. Her eyes seemed to hold only those above her — this would surely be his queen consort, of the Baili clan.

Behind him, the long retinue consisted of Feng Guo’s various princes, princesses, and those among the royal concubines and consorts of considerable standing. Their garments were of every different color, their expressions each distinct — and those gazes… In that moment she truly understood for the first time what Lanxi had said on that day: “The lonely Feng royal clan — are they not also a fortunate Feng royal clan?”

The Feng King studied this future daughter-in-law of his, whose name had spread across the world, deliberating to himself over how to open the conversation in a manner befitting his dignity as a ruler and her elder, and what manner of conduct might observe propriety without being overly deferential to that commanding presence of hers. Yet as he deliberated, his thoughts drifted to the praise that had come from every nation — “a divine countenance of phoenix bearing” — to that title “Phoenix King” that placed her alongside her ancestor the “Feng King,” to the expressions of envy and resentment on the faces of his own children and court ministers when they sometimes mentioned her… There was no doubt: the praise was entirely deserved. And the envy and resentment of his ministers and children was equally understandable. In sixty-seven years of life, this was the first time he had encountered a woman like this. No wonder that boy — who had never once gone to another to ask for anything — had walked into the Huangji Palace he most loathed, for her sake.

“This king is old and infirm, unable to receive the honored guest in person. I ask the Feng King to show understanding.” The Feng King finally spoke. His voice was aged, yet distinctly clear — each character enunciated slowly, one after another, carrying a particular manner and rhythm. At the end he gave a slight bow, and in that single gesture was a grace so natural that it seemed to take thirty years off his age.

Seeing this, Xiyun could not help an inward smile. Like father, like son. Lanxi was a person who set the utmost store by composure and grace; she had not expected that this aged father king of his was the same — old as he was, he would never allow himself to lose his elegant bearing before others, or before a woman. Of course she could not accept that bow. She bowed slightly at the same moment and said, “Xiyun is of the younger generation — how could I put the Great King to the trouble of coming to receive me in person?”

“That the Feng King would accept our proposal of marriage is an honor of the highest order for all of Feng Guo.” The Feng King’s face produced what could be called a smile — though it faded quickly back into the layers of chrysanthemum-like creases.

“That Feng Guo would become kin with us is a fortune Xiyun is immensely grateful for.” Xiyun replied with equally cool and courteous composure.

“The Feng King’s countenance is that of a Tianren, and her civil talent and martial strategy are the admiration of all under heaven.” The Feng King’s gaze paused briefly on Xiyun’s face, then passed over Lanxi standing quietly at her side, and finally swept back toward the long retinue of princes behind him. “Only, today will surely leave a great many people throughout the world deeply disappointed.”

Xiyun gave a faint smile, her eyes glancing at Lanxi with a gaze that seemed to hold immeasurable tenderness. “Xiyun is of plain and humble quality. To have Young Master Lanxi as a husband — what more could one wish for?”

“Oh?” The Feng King regarded Xiyun with deep, penetrating eyes. After a long moment a trace of a smile rose to his face — seeming at once appreciative and mocking — before transforming in an instant into warmth and geniality. “This king only wishes that the Feng King and my son will share a devoted marriage and grow old together with white hair.”

“Many thanks to the Great King for these auspicious words.” Xiyun answered in the same calm, unruffled tone, the same faint, graceful smile remaining on her face.

“Your Majesty — the auspicious hour has arrived.” An old minister stepped close to the Feng King and bowed his head to speak. From his dress, he appeared to be Feng Guo’s Grand Music Official.

“Then…” The Feng King’s gaze swept across the pair of radiant individuals before him. “Let the ceremony begin.”

“Yes!” The Grand Music Official bowed and withdrew.

“The Harmony Pact ceremony commences!”

“Sound the music!”

The Grand Music Official’s proclamation rang out, and in the same instant the music rose — measured and unhurried, joyful and celebratory, extraordinarily pleasing to the ear. It was the ancient piece “Dragon and Phoenix in Propitious Harmony.”

To the strains of the music, the Feng King led the way forward toward the high Xifeng Terrace. Behind him came Lanxi and Xiyun walking hand in hand; and behind them, in one line the Feng Queen Consort, the Marquis of Xun’an, the various princes and princesses, and the court ministers; and in another line the Feng Guo Grand Music Official, the Grand Law Official, the Four Generals of Fengyun, and the attending servants and palace maids.

By the rules of propriety, the first tier was for court ministers and palace servants; the second for members of the royal family; and the third for the betrothed couple performing the rites and their parents.

And so when they stepped onto the first tier, all the court ministers and attendants stopped there. The Feng Guo royal house had only Xiyun herself, so in accordance with the terms of the royal letter set at the time of the Kinship Pact, the Four Generals of Fengyun and Jiuwei, as the Feng King’s family, stepped onto the second tier. When the Feng King moved to ascend to the third tier, the Feng Queen Consort’s body shifted as though to ascend with him — and in that instant, Lanxi’s gaze passed over her with a single, quiet glance, and she came to an immediate stop. At the same moment, four or five gazes of mingled envy and resentment swept toward Lanxi — but Lanxi paid it no attention whatsoever, turning instead to look at Xiyun and extending his hand to accompany her up together to the third tier. Xiyun took in this subtle scene in its entirety without any change in expression, and stepped up to the terrace alongside Lanxi. The corner of her eye swept briefly over those members of the Feng royal clan. In that moment she felt both some sorrow and some wry amusement. The Black Feng Nation — it was indeed far more complicated than the White Feng Nation.

In truth, by the formal protocol of every nation, in a ceremony like this one, as the future consort-queen and the elder of the Shizi, she ought by rights to have been side by side with the Feng King at every step. But at this moment, the highest point of Xifeng Terrace held only the Feng King, Lanxi, and Xiyun — while below the terrace, the Imperial Guard stood in strict formation on all sides, and tens of thousands of subjects craned their necks and waited with held breath.

On the topmost tier of the terrace, the Feng King sat in the central throne of honor. Lanxi and Xiyun stood before the tables on the left and the right respectively. Upon the jade-green table on the right rested a qin; upon the one on the left, a se. Both stood quietly looking at the instruments before them, then raised their heads at the same moment and looked across at each other. Once they played that piece together, the vow of their white-haired union would be sealed — completed in the sight of ten thousand people, impossible to take back until death.

“I simply cannot feel easy about this Young Master Lanxi.” Lin Ji looked up at the two figures on the terrace, speaking in as low a voice as he could manage.

Xu Yuan heard this and turned to look at him, the expression in his eyes carrying a note of admonishment.

“But…” Xiu Jiurong’s gaze remained fixed on the terrace above, “only his kind of refined and distinguished nobility is worthy of the Queen.” The two figures on the terrace — even without standing at a height, they were the kind of people who would naturally inspire others to look up.

Standing at the very back, Jiuwei heard these words and could not help but look at Xiu Jiurong standing before him. That face held an expression that seemed at once somewhat dazed, somewhat forlorn, and yet also containing something that was — without quite knowing why — a trace of genuine, heartfelt gladness. And that face — from the center of the brow to the bridge of the nose, a reddish-brown scar divided the face cleanly in two equal halves. Yet one could not call that face ugly. Each of the two halves of that divided face was, on its own, exceptionally fine and handsome. Yet neither could one call that face beautiful. That was a fractured beauty — the kind of fracture that seemed to split open in one’s own chest, tugging with quiet pain at irregular intervals.

Without quite thinking, Jiuwei reached out and patted him on the shoulder. He himself did not know why he made that gesture toward this person. Xiu Jiurong turned his head and smiled at him — a smile as pure and innocent as a child’s, with just a slight touch of bashfulness, as though a secret held in the heart had been seen through.

“Hey — look at those princes over there. I just can’t bring myself to regard them favorably.” The thick-nerved Cheng Zhi had turned his gaze toward the row of Feng Guo princes opposite. Compared to their own side’s sparse five figures, that row seemed to contain more people than one could count.

“Though they all look reasonably dignified — compared to…” Lin Ji glanced across, then raised his eyes to the terrace above. “Well, it’s good that the Queen chose that one.”

“All of you, close your mouths!” Xu Yuan dropped his voice to a sharp hiss, shooting a glare at each of the two in turn, so that these two might stop saying things without regard for consequence and disgrace Feng Guo.

Lin Ji and Cheng Zhi were indeed silenced by his glare. But Xiu Jiurong actually looked the assembled princes over quite seriously and carefully, and then said softly, “They all look very fine. Every single one is of distinguished bearing.”

Jiuwei gave a quiet, involuntary laugh.

Xu Yuan’s cold gaze swept to Xiu Jiurong. Though he made no sound of rebuke, Xiu Jiurong understood his meaning well enough and fell immediately silent. Only Jiuwei went on smiling at his ease. Meanwhile, those members of the Feng royal clan opposite seemed not to see them at all — their gazes remained fixed, unwavering, on the pair at the top of the terrace. Only the Marquis of Xun’an seemed to carry a concealed unease, his brow giving a faint, occasional furrow.

At last, the sound of qin and se floated down from the terrace above — limpid and soaring, like a mountain spring playing among the peaks and ravines; free and unrestrained, like a gentle breeze drifting past the tips of willow branches; soft and exquisite, like colorful butterflies dancing among a hundred flowers in bloom; still, austere, and noble, like a single point of red plum standing amid swirling snow. At times the qin voice soared up into the clouds and the se voice settled low as a murmur; at times the qin voice floated like silk threads in the wind and the se voice stood firm as a pine on a rocky cliff in gale; at times the se voice rose and surged; at times the qin voice opened wide and boundless. The qin and se moved apart and then came together — when together, their flow was as natural as rivers merging into the sea; when apart, they were as lively as a shallow stream parting around a stone.

For a moment, every person present was immersed in that beautiful, harmonious music that seemed to descend from heaven itself. Even the Feng King on the terrace above closed his eyes and listened quietly. As for the two players — their fingers still flew across the strings, but their gazes had become entangled with each other’s, both seeming somewhat surprised, and yet also feeling a kind of natural and expected joy.

When the flash of blade light appeared, every person there — half still lost in the music, the other half struck rigid by the chill and brilliance of that blade light — felt the world lurch.

The blade light descended like snow falling upon the earth, spreading in all directions across the sky, as though it could blot out the sun and cover all eyes with its brilliance. Beneath the blazing sun, the entire topmost tier of Xifeng Terrace was completely covered by that snow-white radiance. The Feng King and the two others on the terrace could no longer be seen.

The Imperial Guard soldiers, now recovered, rushed up toward the terrace in haste. Propriety could no longer be considered — if any of the three persons on the platform were harmed, not nine lives apiece would be enough to atone for it. Yet the moment they came near the edge of the highest tier, that snow-white radiance swept them one by one off the platform. Some fell to the ground with broken arms and legs; some died where they landed. The luckiest escaped without physical injury but were utterly robbed of their courage and strength, unable to muster the will to step back onto the terrace.

“Your Majesty!”

The Four Generals of Fengyun cried out in unison and rushed forward together, but had barely climbed several steps when several cold streaks of light shot out from within the blinding radiance and wound like white rainbows toward their throats. All four generals simultaneously drew their swords in front of their necks.

“Clang!” The ringing cry of blade meeting sword — and then four great snow-bright blades were leveled against the four generals’ swords. The figures holding the blades were people wrapped from head to toe in clothing as white as snow, and the eyes visible between the folds of their wrappings were cold and merciless as ice.

“You…”

The four generals had barely started to speak when the blades came sweeping down from above — it was the killing force of snow, the absolute ruthlessness that could sever the life force of all things between heaven and earth in a single instant.

“Deal with them first!” Xu Yuan’s voice was urgent, swift, and sharp.

“Yes!” The other three answered in unison.

In an instant, sword light flashed — carrying the brilliant blazing heat of high noon, four streams of golden radiance shot like long rainbows directly toward those four snow-blades.

On the other side of the second tier, the Feng Queen Consort, the Marquis of Xun’an, and the various princes were already surrounded by a ring of Imperial Guard soldiers who had rushed to protect them. On the first tier, the court ministers and palace servants had long since descended into chaos — some frozen with fear and screaming, some crying out desperately for rescue — a scene of utter disorder. Many Imperial Guard soldiers rushed forward to carry them off the terrace, while still others continued attempting to push their way up to the third tier. But the blade light and sword energy on the second tier brought them to a stop.

And on the topmost tier of the terrace, the snow-white radiance lay like a canopy, sealing that tier completely. Those inside could not get out; those outside could still not see through…

Then, all at once, a phoenix cry pierced straight up through the nine heavens. Every person could not help but look up toward the terrace. Within that snow-white radiance there seemed to faintly appear a white phoenix radiating silver light from every feather, circling the terrace in flight. No matter how dense the snow radiance, it could not trap it, could not obscure its brilliant light.

“Break!”

A clear, sharp command seemed to descend from the heavens — and then a white phoenix surged up into the sky, piercing through the dense snow-white radiance, carrying with it a full radiance of light that made it impossible to look directly at. And in that instant, the canopy of snow light finally showed a gap. Through it one could dimly make out several figures beneath the radiance. Then the white phoenix threw back its head with a cry, and in that instant spread its wings wide — white and vast, as though covering half the sky. It swept downward in a single motion, as though sweeping sky and earth clean all at once, and that snow-white radiance above the terrace was swept away without a trace, revealing in full the Feng King, Lanxi, and thirteen snow-robed figures encircling them — and then that white phoenix, without the faintest trace of weight, alighted lightly upon the terrace. It was Xiyun, standing composed and unhurried, the white silk ribbon in her hand dancing without any wind.

Silence — in that moment the entire Xifeng Terrace fell silent. The Four Generals of Fengyun and those four snow-robed figures also stopped their fighting simultaneously. Even the subjects watching below held their breath, not daring to exhale, eyes wide as they watched the scene on the terrace above.

On the topmost tier, thirteen snow-robed figures stood in solemn formation, their gazes fixed without a single blink upon that young man and woman. The snow blades in their hands rested point-down against the ground. The positions in which the thirteen stood appeared irregular at first glance, but any person who had moved in martial circles would recognize it at once — it was the Soul-Claiming Blade Formation of Snow Mountain, a formation of absolute lethality.

“Snow Mountain’s Seventeen Blades — were they not a discipline of pure snow and pure blade? Since when did they come down to mingle in the mortal world?” Only Xiyun’s cold and clear voice rang out — and in that instant, all thirteen figures’ pupils contracted simultaneously.

“It is actually you two?!” The leader among the snow-robed figures seemed unable to believe what he saw, his gaze moving between them. The grip on his blade tightened involuntarily.

They had never seen Baifeng Heixi in person — but the white silk ribbon in that woman’s hand could not be mistaken. In all the world, there was no second white silk ribbon capable of such ferocity, such terrifying power. And that man — though he had not made a single move, he faced their blade formation with the entire composure and grace of someone who might as well have been looking at a pile of stones arranged by a three-year-old child. Not a flicker of alarm. He was surely none other than Hei Fengxi — the one equally renowned with her, praised throughout the martial world for his peerless elegance. So the rumor that Baifeng Heixi were Feng Guo’s Xiyun and Feng Guo’s Lanxi was true.

“The path of cultivation is not easy. Why not return whence you came?” Xiyun said quietly, her gaze sweeping briefly to Lanxi. She saw him standing before the Feng King, watching those snow-robed figures with calm stillness. Throughout everything, the Feng King remained seated in the royal chair, his composure unshaken, his manner still entirely that of a sovereign.

“When snow falls, can it return to the sky?” The leader of the snow-robed figures shook his head. The snow blade in his hand lifted. “Kill!”

In an instant, of the thirteen snow-robed figures, seven surged toward Lanxi and six toward Xiyun. The blade light transformed into water — fluid and unceasing, flowing toward them with extraordinary suppleness and smoothness. That yielding water, in the moment before it reached them, suddenly erupted like a flash flood, surging with overwhelming force, rolling toward them like a tide that could overturn mountains and flood the earth.

“Your Majesty, be careful!”

“Young Master, be careful!”

The people watching below felt their hearts tremble, and could not help but cry out simultaneously.

Yet those two people simply stepped back in unison — as though matching their pace against the rushing current, however fiercely and swiftly the torrent surged, the two always remained exactly one foot ahead of it.

The two sides pursued each other. As the two were on the verge of being driven to the edge of the terrace, the water flow chasing Xiyun suddenly withdrew. Four figures fell back sharply, turned, raised their blades — and swept them all simultaneously toward the Feng King still seated in the royal chair. The remaining two swung their blades in a left-and-right pincer attack on Xiyun. At that same moment, the water flow chasing Lanxi transformed into a tide of snow, surging upward to great heights. The brilliant blade light at that instant outshone even the blazing sun overhead. The killing cold energy of that downward strike made every person on and below Xifeng Terrace feel their muscles and bones go cold.

“Your Majesty!”

“Young Master!”

Every person in that moment could not help crying out in alarm.

“Stand down!”

A clear, sharp command rang out, and the white silk ribbon, drawn with the full force of her inner energy, swept through the air in a horizontal arc. “Clang clang!” — the two figures attacking her in a pincer felt a violent pain in their wrists, and the great blades in their hands flew out of their grip and fell to the ground, their remaining force so powerful that the blades embedded themselves three inches deep into the Hanyu marble floor. Before those two had even recovered from the pain, Xiyun’s figure blurred into motion. Her feet flew up in two kicks with the speed of lightning, connecting squarely with the shoulders of both figures. The snap of breaking bone rang out, and both snow-robed figures collapsed to the ground. At the same moment, her figure moved rapidly forward — the white silk ribbon shot far out ahead of her, directly pursuing the four snow blades sweeping toward the Feng King.

In that instant, she moved like a loosed arrow and the ribbon flashed like lightning. In the blink of an eye the ribbon had wound around the snow blades. “Clang clang clang!” — three of the blades had already fallen to the ground. Only the foremost blade still continued forward — and the topmost tier was open and bare, with nowhere for the Feng King to hide and no strength to flee. The snow blade sliced through the air above the Feng King like a gale of snow.

“I am still faster.” A low voice reached her ear. The snow blade that had been about to pierce into the Feng King’s chest suddenly halted. Turning her head, Xiyun stood at a distance of one zhang, the white silk ribbon wound tightly around the blade’s body.

“But I am closer.” Before the snow-robed figure had even finished speaking, both his palms suddenly shot out — abandoning the blade, he struck with his bare palms directly at the Feng King, who was no more than three feet away. This change came with extreme speed. The Feng King, still barely registering his escape from the blade and not yet recovered, had no thought or time to dodge.

“You underestimate me too much.” Xiyun smiled faintly. She flicked her wrist, and the white silk ribbon — as though possessed of its own life — carried the snow blade slicing down toward those bare palms.

But in that same instant, a cry of alarm rang out.

“Young Master!”

The voice was so urgent, so fearful.

Xiyun’s hand gave an involuntary shudder. The white silk ribbon slackened for an instant — and those two palms slammed hard into the Feng King’s chest. She gritted her teeth and twisted her wrist. The ribbon surged; the snow blade fell like lightning. “Ah!” A cry of anguish rang out. Blood spurted. Two severed, blood-soaked hands dropped to the floor. And at the same moment, the Feng King let out a muffled groan, and a mouthful of fresh blood sprayed forth — because of that one momentary slack in the ribbon, he had after all been struck full force by those two palms.

The Feng King struck, the snow blade severing the hands — all of it happened in less time than the blink of an eye. As the figure whose hands had been severed fell unconscious to the ground, the three behind him who had lost their blades simultaneously struck out with their palms. Xiyun had no time to attend to the Feng King’s injuries. Without turning her body, she was already airborne. A long cry rang out — pure as the call of a phoenix. In that instant, the three figures on the ground felt a blinding white light assault their eyes. In their dizzied, reeling state, it seemed as though a white phoenix swept its wings toward them. Before they could react, the phoenix wings had already passed across their throats. In the single moment that followed, they felt only a suffocating constriction — the pain had not yet reached them before all sensation grew distant, and as their souls receded into haze, they dimly thought: so this was Bai Fengxi’s supreme technique, “Phoenix Cries Through the Nine Heavens?” And we died beneath this single move?

Xiyun landed. The white silk ribbon had already been drawn back from the three figures’ throats. She turned urgently to seek Lanxi’s figure — and what she saw caused her own composure to give way.

Those seven snow blades had multiplied into what seemed like ten thousand, closing in on Lanxi from every direction. The blade radiance spun faster and more intensely, growing denser with each revolution, sending waves of cold and lethal wind. It had almost imperceptibly formed a razor-sharp vortex, and wherever it passed, layers of shavings were being sliced from the hard Hanyu stone floor. And Lanxi, at the center of that vortex?

She moved toward him without thinking — knowing full well his martial skill was no less than her own, yet still unable to help herself from gripping the white silk ribbon, wrist turning, just about to move — when she suddenly heard from Lanxi a low, clear, cold sound. Then a fragrance of orchid drifted out quietly. Before anyone could understand what was happening, an ink orchid bloomed within that snow-white vortex — then another, and another, more and more, opening wider and wider. In the blink of an eye, that snow-white vortex was entirely covered by ink orchids.

“Scatter.” That voice was still as elegant as music. As the word fell, all the ink orchids suddenly converged into one. As that single orchid’s petals opened one by one, a pervasive fragrance enveloped the entire Xifeng Terrace — and at the same moment, the sound of ringing impacts rang out without cease.

When all the blade radiance had dispersed, when the ink orchid had vanished, people were finally able to see clearly. On the topmost tier, Lanxi stood in serene stillness. On the ground lay the seven snow-robed figures, already without any signs of life. The snow blades had been shattered into countless fragments scattered across the floor. Across those figures and those fragments, Feng King Xiyun stood upright. Behind her was the Feng King.

“Father King — are you uninjured?” Lanxi stepped around Xiyun and moved to the Feng King, supporting him gently as he rose.

“Young Master, be careful!” People who had only just let out one breath of relief could not help but cry out again.

A snow radiance flashed — brutal and relentless, it swept toward the Feng King and Lanxi standing before the royal chair. It was the four snow-robed figures who had fought the four generals — watching their companions on the terrace injured and killed, seemingly in the blink of an eye, by these two people, and finding themselves unable to undo any of it when they came to their senses — all their hatred and fury erupted at once. Even if they died, they would take these two people’s lives with them.

“Father King!”

Every minister and subject watched with their own eyes as their most devotedly admired Shizi threw himself forward to stand before the Great King, sweeping his sleeve to strike away the assassin’s blade — yet one blade still drove directly toward the Shizi, and the Feng King seemed to stand frozen, utterly motionless, watching blankly as that snow blade pierced into the Shizi’s body.

“Young Master!” Every person involuntarily squeezed their eyes shut.

That single cry of alarm seemed to rouse the Feng King from her stupor. In the instant the white silk ribbon rose, a killing force surged up as though from the underworld, sweeping down from above. Every person before Xifeng Terrace in that moment felt a shudder rise from the very depths of their souls. The sensation was as though the final reckoning had arrived, and when they opened their eyes again, the sky and earth and all things would cease to exist.

And then everything returned to stillness. On Xifeng Terrace there were no more flashing blades, no more killing intent, no more anguished cries, no more cries of alarm — only the warm and dazzling sunlight, and the faint breeze carrying the metallic scent of blood.

She looked down at the ground. The white-jade-like stone, the red-silk-like blood, interwoven like a vivid and striking painting. Snow-white robes, still figures, cold blade fragments — scattered through the painting like embellishments, allowing it to display in full its quality of cold desolation.

All the tension and agitation drained away suddenly. She raised her eyes to look at the wound on his chest, then at the Feng King — ashen-faced, hand pressed to his chest, seeming still frozen in shock. Then her gaze moved to the Imperial Guard soldiers flooding up. All at once she was clear. Everything — all of it — she understood. And in that moment, she felt only a bone-deep exhaustion.