“Royal Brother, it has been so long now — why have you not let me go to the battlefield even once?”

Inside the royal tent, Lanxi and Feng Wei were playing a game of chess. The game had not yet reached its halfway point when Feng Wei could not help himself and brought up the same old complaint again.

“Royal Brother.” Seeing that Lanxi’s gaze remained fixed on the chessboard as though he had not heard a single word, Feng Wei called out again, this time with considerably more weight behind his voice.

“Hmm?” Lanxi shifted his gaze toward Feng Wei only slightly, though his thoughts did not appear to have returned to Feng Wei — nor had they settled on the chess game either.

“Every day you just have these two standing guard over me, and you absolutely will not let me go to the battlefield. At this rate, how am I ever supposed to kill enemies and earn merit? When the time comes to go home, and Father asks whether I have shared your burdens, Royal Brother, am I supposed to tell him: ‘Every day I sat in the tent reading books and practicing swordwork, plus eating and sleeping, and nothing else whatsoever’?!” Feng Wei said with an aggrieved air, gesturing with a resentful flick toward the twin brothers Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan, who stood attending nearby. “Brother, let me go to the battlefield! I will definitely capture the Bai King alive and bring him before you!”

“Did I not say so already — as long as your swordsmanship can surpass Zhong Li’s and your knowledge of military strategy can surpass Zhong Yuan’s, I will let you go to the battlefield.” Lanxi’s eyes drifted back to the chessboard, and he spoke with an unhurried, offhand air.

“What? Ugh!” Upon hearing this, Feng Wei deflated entirely, and directed a gaze of boundless grievance toward the pair of twins who were identical in every way. In his heart he felt both vexed and ashamed — he, a young lord of a noble house, could not even best these two attendants! “Truly insufferable!” The murmur slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

As for Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan, who were on the receiving end of Feng Wei’s resentful glare, they stood perfectly motionless and unmoved. It was only when Lanxi’s gaze drifted toward his teacup that Zhong Li hurried to present the fragrant tea, while Zhong Yuan raised the silver tray — and the moment Lanxi finished drinking and turned his hand, the teacup came to rest upon the tray.

“Oh, that’s right, Royal Brother — when is Royal Sister Feng Wang coming back? I haven’t seen her in so long!” Feng Wei quickly shook off his self-pity and gloom and launched with fresh enthusiasm into another topic entirely. “I’ve recently written an essay, and I was hoping to show it to her — she’s sure to praise me for it!” He said this while indulging in a private daydream of exactly that.

“Oh, her… she will come when she wishes to come.” Lanxi answered with an easy, offhand tone that suggested he gave it little thought, his fingers turning the pale jade thumb ring on his hand without purpose.

“Ah, I miss her so much!” Feng Wei propped both cheeks in his palms, turned his head wistfully to one side, and let his gaze go dreamy and distant. “Royal Sister Feng Wang looks the most beautiful when she smiles — even Royal Sister Qiwu cannot compare. And she has such formidable martial arts, such literary talent, and such a sharp, amusing way of speaking. When she wears her white royal robes, she is breathtakingly beautiful and noble beyond measure; when she wears her silver armor, she is bold and gallant with a spirit that can only be called magnificent. Ah… if only she were not Royal Brother’s queen…” As Feng Wei spoke, his voice gradually dropped to a murmur, and a dazed, foolish smile floated across his face.

“Ow!” Without warning, a smack landed squarely on his forehead. “Royal Brother, why did you hit me?!”

“At such a young age, and your head is already full of women — grown up, would you not become a dissolute rogue? Naturally, as your elder brother, I must properly set you straight.” Lanxi smiled — light, warm, and graceful — and waggled one fair, jade-like finger gently before Feng Wei’s eyes. “Your task for today is to copy out the Yuyan Military Treatise once, and to practice the Shooting-the-Sun Sword Technique one hundred times!”

“What?” Feng Wei’s mind had not yet had time to process what his ears had just heard, and when it finally did, he let out a wail of pure anguish. “How is that possible? The Yuyan Military Treatise has four hundred and ninety chapters — how could I possibly finish copying all of that? The Shooting-the-Sun Sword Technique has eighty-one moves in total. If I practice it a hundred times, would my arms not simply fall off?!”

“Is that so…” Lanxi leaned his body slightly back against the soft couch, raised a hand to toy with a pot of vivid, lush orchid grass at the edge of the couch, the picture of unhurried ease and contentment, that elegant and gentle smile on his face — the kind that could steal the heart of any beauty in the realm.

Feng Wei looked at Lanxi, and his thoughts shifted without warning. He thought quietly to himself: Royal Brother really is so handsome! And there is no one else in this entire world whose every word, every movement, every bearing is as supremely beautiful as his! Truly, he and Royal Sister Feng Wang are an incomparable pair, unmatched beneath the heavens!

“Then you will recite the Yuyan Military Treatise one hundred times, and write out the Shooting-the-Sun Sword Technique’s incantations from memory one hundred times.” Lanxi’s words fell with an utterly casual, unhurried lightness.

Feng Wei, whose reactions seemed perpetually half a beat behind, finally grasped the situation a moment later: “No! That’s not any different at all! Royal Brother, how about this instead — let me go to the battlefield and kill a hundred enemies? Would that work?” Feng Wei pleaded in tones of absolute misery, and did not forget to cast a look toward Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan, hoping they might lend him some slight support — but alas, the twins appeared not to have received the plea he was transmitting to them, their eyes fixed straight ahead on their master without deviation.

“Feng Wei, do not think I am unaware of what you do every day.” Lanxi looked at Feng Wei with an uncommon gravity. “Instead of spending every day racking your brain trying to slip away from under Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan’s watch, you would be far better served applying yourself to the military treatises and the sword techniques. Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan are about the same age as you, and yet they could already serve as your teachers. If you carry on like this, you will never surpass either of them in your entire life — let alone speak of commanding troops or becoming a general!”

“It isn’t fair! It isn’t fair!” Feng Wei cried out repeatedly upon hearing this, without even a fraction of self-reflection. “Brother, you don’t seem to do anything at all, and yet you know everything and can do everything. Why is it that no matter how hard I try, I still cannot catch up to you?!”

“Hmm?” This was not at all what Lanxi had expected, and for a moment he was caught between the urge to laugh and the urge to sigh. “I don’t do anything?”

“You really don’t!” Feng Wei nodded with full conviction, looking at Lanxi with eyes warm with admiration and reverence. “Back in the royal capital, Brother, you spent more time tending your orchids than you spent on affairs of state — and yet Feng Kingdom is the mightiest of the six kingdoms! Now that we are out on campaign, every day you do nothing but sip fine wine, savor fragrant tea, and listen to Royal Sister Qiwu sing — or play chess, or paint. Even the Feng King personally dons her armor and leads the charge, but neither I nor anyone else has ever seen you so much as touch a sword, let alone put on armor to fight enemies yourself — and yet somehow the entire Bai Kingdom has already been taken by our Feng Kingdom, and nearly half the realm under the heavens is almost yours!”

“Hmm?” Lanxi stared in blank surprise at Feng Wei, whose face was lit with a look of earnest reverence, and raised a hand to rub his nose — in an expression of distinct awkwardness, even a flicker of embarrassed discomfiture. “In your eyes, it seems I truly do nothing at all.”

“Brother need do nothing — all things beneath the heavens will accomplish themselves on Brother’s behalf! That is the conclusion I have reached after these past several months!” Feng Wei declared this verdict with proud satisfaction, his expression that of one quite pleased with his own powers of observation.

“All things accomplish themselves?” Lanxi lowered his head; his long hair, dark as black silk, fell from either side like cascading fringe. By now, he was no longer merely rubbing his nose — he had pressed his palm helplessly over half his face and let out a low groan. “That is your conclusion? You cannot possibly think of me as… heavens… if that woman ever heard this, she would certainly mock me without mercy and laugh: ‘As the beam above is crooked, so the timber below will be warped…’ ” The last words were somewhat muffled by the palm covering his lips.

“Brother, what did you say?” Feng Wei asked, not having caught it clearly.

“I said…” Lanxi raised his head; his composure and elegance had already restored themselves entirely. “In these past months you have made not one jot of progress. Far from the diligence and drive you once showed, you have instead grown idle and indolent. It seems my guidance has not been nearly as strict as your Royal Uncle’s — and so I intend to have someone escort you back. Hereafter, it will be better for your Royal Uncle to personally oversee your instruction!”

“No!” The moment Feng Wei heard this, he cried out and immediately seized hold of Lanxi with both hands, his bright, wide eyes full of desperate appeal. “Brother, I don’t want to go back! I want to follow Brother and conquer the world!”

“If you do not wish to go back, then hurry back to your tent and do your work!” Lanxi gave him a brief sidelong glance and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Though his tone was unhurried and mild, there was an invisible pressure behind it that left Feng Wei with nothing more to say.

“Understood.” Feng Wei released his hands, rose dejectedly, and began to shuffle off — but as his eye caught the twins standing nearby, who seemed to be suppressing their laughter with some effort, his brow gave a small twitch, and another question floated up into his mind. “Brother, may I ask one last question?”

“Go ahead.” Lanxi gave a nod that conveyed equal indifference either way.

“Yesterday I overheard Zhong Li and Zhong Yuan quietly whispering to each other, saying something about how the Grand General of the East was leading eighty thousand troops to Juan City to subdue the Feng King.” Feng Wei cast a sly glance at the twins, whose expressions had visibly shifted. “They also said they couldn’t understand why you hadn’t quickly sent troops to support her.” Looking at the twins’ faces, which had gone somewhat pale, Feng Wei felt a wave of quiet satisfaction rise in his heart — at last, some revenge for being watched so closely. “Brother, I want to know as well — knowing the Feng King is in danger, why have you not sent troops to her aid?”

“Oh?” Lanxi let his gaze drift lightly toward the twins standing nearby; they instantly lowered their heads as low as they could go. “That woman… hmm, since the Feng King has not sent word requesting military support from me, she clearly has the confidence of a sure victory. What need is there for me to add a superfluous gesture?”

“Is that so?” Feng Wei blinked, appearing not quite convinced by such a simple explanation.

“Just so.” Lanxi gave a nod. “Your question has been asked — are you still not going back to do your work?”

“Yes, your subordinate brother takes his leave.” Feng Wei beat a hasty retreat.

“You two may go as well.” Lanxi addressed the twins, who were standing nearby in a state of uncertain helplessness. “And do not go picking up bad habits from Feng Wei!”

“Yes!” Both twins exhaled in relief at the same instant, bowing in perfect unison as they withdrew.

Once they had all gone, Lanxi’s gaze settled on the unfinished game of chess left on the board. After a long pause, a faint trace of a smile crossed his face, and he murmured softly to himself: “Feng Wei… you are the only person in this world who calls me Brother… and the only one who can speak to me with such open, guileless ease. Even she…” He sighed quietly as he said it, as though touched by a faint sense of wistfulness and regret. “By the time you are a little older, even you will no longer be like this…”

He raised his hand to cover his eyes, and let his body sink fully into the couch. In an instant, the tent fell into a silence as profound and still as the deep of the night.

“Come in.” The Lanxi who had appeared already to have fallen asleep suddenly spoke in a quiet voice, lowering the hand that had been shielding his eyes and letting his gaze drift toward the entrance of the tent.

A vague dark shadow drifted into the tent without a sound, knelt on the ground with head bowed: “Shadow Phantom pays respects to the King.”

“What is it?” Lanxi asked with his characteristic unhurried calm, his body still reclining against the couch.

“The Feng King has sent word through a messenger, requesting the King to dispatch troops at once!”

“Oh?” The Lanxi who had been utterly at ease a moment before sat up abruptly from the couch, his gaze fixed on the Shadow Phantom kneeling below. “So it seems this Grand General of the East and his eighty thousand Imperial Guards do indeed have some real strength after all.” Lanxi laughed softly, and a flash passed through his eyes, as though something had just occurred to him. “And yet… she actually sent you to relay the message. That is rather unexpected.”

“The Feng King has also separately dispatched a formal messenger by another route, evading the Grand General’s interception, to deliver a written letter. This messenger arrived one moment ago — only it seems as though Advisor Ren has already invited him to ‘rest.’ ” Shadow Phantom’s voice was extremely low and faint.

“As expected.” Lanxi gave a nod, then waved his hand. “You may go.”

“Yes.” The vague dark shadow drifted out of the tent like a wisp of black smoke.

“Military Advisor.”

The voice that rose suddenly from outside the tent pulled Ren Chuanyun out of his thoughts. He reflexively raised his hand and stroked his chin.

“Have the four generals arrived? Please invite them in at once.”

“No — it is the King’s messenger, requesting the Military Advisor to come to the royal tent!”

“Oh?” A flash passed through Ren Chuanyun’s eyes, and he answered a moment later, “Understood. You may go.”

“Yes.” The sound of the attendant’s footsteps departing reached them from outside the tent.

How fast. Ren Chuanyun furrowed his brow and smiled faintly — though the smile was tinged with a thread of bitterness. The hand stroking his chin had stilled; without thinking, he gripped it firmly. He had not yet even finished working out how to handle the situation — and the messenger had already arrived! It seemed there was truly nothing in this world that lay outside his grasp.

“Chuanyun.” Another voice called from outside the tent — this time, it was Qiao Jin’s steady, composed voice.

“Oh.” Ren Chuanyun answered and stepped out of the tent. The four generals were standing side by side before it.

“The man you dispatched had not yet stepped out the door before the King’s attendant arrived.” Qiao Jin looked at Ren Chuanyun and said this with a somewhat sardonic edge, though the expression on his face was grave and weighted.

“It seems nothing can escape his all-seeing eye.” Ren Chuanyun sighed faintly. “If he were ever willing… the entire world could be held between his five fingers!”

“Chuanyun…” Qiao Jin looked at Ren Chuanyun, his gaze carrying a certain complexity. “Even now, I cannot bring myself to agree with what you have said. And yet…” He raised his hand and pressed it against his brow with what seemed like painful frustration. “I cannot refute you either!”

“That is because the king we acknowledge is only one!” He Qishu said, cutting straight to the heart of it. “You and I may both feel some contempt for such conduct in our hearts — but for that one person, for the ideal we share, for this world beneath the heavens, we have no other path.”

“The one to whom we swore our oath of loyalty in blood… the one for whom we have struggled across so many years…” Duanmu Wensheng raised his hand and looked at the long scar across his wrist, then let out a long, slow sigh. “I still hope… that both kings may coexist and walk forward together!”

“That hope of yours has, from time immemorial, been an impossibility.” Ren Chuanyun said quietly, shattering his dream without ceremony.

For a moment, all five of them fell silent.

“Let us go — we must not keep the King waiting.” Qiao Jin was the first to break the silence, taking the lead and walking ahead.

“Your servants pay their respects to the King!” Within the royal tent, the five men bowed with proper reverence toward the figure seated on the throne.

“Rise.” Lanxi waved a hand, and his gaze swept one by one across the beloved generals in the tent. His expression was calm and composed as ever. “The reason I have summoned you here today… is because we have rested in this place for many days now. It is time to move the Bai King of Jiao City into action.”

All five men were taken aback. They had expected the King to summon them for a reprimand — and yet… all five of them, as one, let out a quiet breath of relief.

“For this expedition to Jiao City, deploy ten thousand troops. Qiao Jin will serve as commander, with Chuanyun in support.”

But Lanxi’s next words made all five of them tense again in unison.

“If ten thousand troops march to Jiao City… does another ten thousand circle around and head directly for the imperial capital?” Ren Chuanyun asked with careful, measured caution.

Lanxi looked at him and smiled faintly. “Not so. Wensheng and Qishu will lead fifty thousand troops and accompany me to Juan City within half an hour. The remainder will remain under Chuanyun’s command, stationed here to hold the position and manage the logistics of the provisions.”

At these words, all five of them went rigid with a jolt — but before they could even begin to process what they had heard, Lanxi’s voice came again: “Chuanyun, once the Feng King’s messenger has rested and recovered his strength, let him stay and assist you. There is no need for him to return to Juan City.”

All five of them felt the chill crawl up their spines. They stared blankly at the figure seated on the throne.

“My King, please permit your servant to speak a word.” After a long pause, Ren Chuanyun recovered his clarity.

“Oh?” Lanxi gave him a glance. “If it is not sound counsel, there is no need to say it.”

“No!” Ren Chuanyun dropped to his knees on the spot, his eyes fixed on Lanxi with unwavering, resolute conviction. “This is a word your servant will say only at this moment!”

Lanxi looked at him in silence without a word. The four generals on either side watched Ren Chuanyun with a quiet edge of concern. They were all people who had followed Lanxi for many years and knew well that his thoughts ran as deep and unfathomable as the sea, that joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness never showed upon his face — across so many years, they had never managed to read his mind, and it was for exactly this reason that they were so deeply swayed by him, and placed in him an unconditional trust and reverence. Yet within that reverence lay a thread of something that none of them could deny — a tremor of awe.

“Then speak and let me hear — what is this sound counsel that compels you to such conviction?” After a moment, Lanxi finally opened his mouth, his voice unhurried and mild.

“A kingdom cannot have two masters. An army cannot have two commanders.” Ren Chuanyun’s voice was clean and direct.

Silence descended upon the tent. The only sounds were the four generals’ breathing, which had grown slightly heavy. The figure seated on the throne and the figure kneeling below it held each other’s eyes — one utterly without expression, the other taut with tension and yet unflinching.

“Chuanyun, there is one point it seems you have consistently overlooked.” Lanxi’s voice was calm and unhurried, his dark eyes deep beyond all fathoming — still and unreadable as he looked down at the military advisor kneeling on the floor. “The Feng King and I are husband and wife, and since ancient times husband and wife are as one — there is no question of two masters.” The final words carried the faintest edge of warning.

“And yet…” Ren Chuanyun’s eyes remained fixed with unwavering resolve on the sovereign seated high above him. “My King, you should understand better than any person alive what manner of woman the Feng King is! And what manner of kingdom Feng Kingdom is! And how formidable a force the Fengyun cavalry is! And furthermore…”

The light in Ren Chuanyun’s eyes became sharp and cold as an iron-tipped arrow; across his face rose an expression of one who has staked everything on a single throw — and then he bowed his head to the ground in a deep, formal kowtow: “My King, you must not forget the words of the former dynasty’s Pardon Emperor: ‘It was not that I wished it — in truth, it was the force of circumstances that compelled it!’ “

That final line was spoken one word at a time — clear, heavy, falling into the tent stroke by stroke, resounding at every person’s ear with a weight that drove each word straight to the heart.

“We implore the King to weigh this thrice!” The four generals dropped to their knees as one, pressing their foreheads to the ground.

“‘It was not that I wished it — in truth, it was the force of circumstances that compelled it…’ ” The murmur slipped out without Lanxi realizing it, and across that face serene as an ancient, secluded lake, a faint and delicate ripple appeared.

“It was not that I wished it — in truth, it was the force of circumstances that compelled it!”

The one who had left these words in history was the Pardon Emperor of the former dynasty — a ruler revered as a sage-king.

The Pardon Emperor was the ninth son of the Zhong Emperor. When the Zhong Emperor passed from the world, the Crown Prince ascended to the throne — this was the Hope Emperor. The Pardon Emperor and the Hope Emperor were brothers of the same mother, and their bond had always been close and affectionate. The Pardon Emperor was accomplished in both civil and military arts, exceptional in talent and ability — and so the Hope Emperor placed great trust in him and gave him important responsibilities. With the Hope Emperor’s confidence behind him, the Pardon Emperor could act with open hands and no restraints. He reformed the entrenched corrupt policies; he appointed people on the basis of ability alone. Under his hand, the kingdom grew steadily richer and stronger. Beyond its borders, he repelled invading forces three times, subjugated the Sang Kingdom, suppressed the Caifei, and brought South Dan under the realm’s control — military achievements of such brilliance they had no equal in the age! And beneath his command gathered a multitude of the capable and the gifted; he opened his own government office, appointed his own generals, and his position and authority rose to such heights that for a time he was spoken of as the foremost man in the kingdom.

And yet, as it has always been, good fortune does not linger long — and from time immemorial, those whose merit overshadows their sovereign have rarely survived intact. No one knew quite when it began, but all manner of rumors started to circulate through the kingdom, saying that the Pardon Emperor was arrogant in his achievements and no longer respected his lord, that he harbored the intention of betrayal and setting himself up as ruler. Others said the Hope Emperor feared and envied the Pardon Emperor’s distinction and could not bring himself to tolerate him. When such rumors first appeared, perhaps neither the Pardon Emperor nor the Hope Emperor paid them very much mind — each dismissed them with a laugh. Yet when they had circulated long enough and widely enough, the impressions they left in both men’s hearts grew naturally deeper, until one day each woke to find that a distance had crept in between them — that they had grown guarded and suspicious of one another without either quite knowing when it had happened.

The first to make a move was the Hope Emperor. Perhaps at the outset he still held back out of brotherly affection and did not wish any true harm upon the Pardon Emperor — perhaps he only wished to weaken his power and hollow out his authority. And so he simply began to reassign or demote the Pardon Emperor’s subordinates one by one. But the Pardon Emperor was a man who placed great weight on bonds of loyalty, and he was deeply indignant that those faithful, devoted followers of his should be treated in such a manner without cause. And so he entered the palace to plead their case before the Hope Emperor — only to find that the two men, no longer close as they had once been, could no longer speak openly to one another as they had in days of old. The meeting deteriorated into a furious quarrel between the brothers, and the Pardon Emperor was driven from the imperial palace.

From this moment, the bond between the two men shattered entirely. The Hope Emperor moved against him without further mercy. A number of the Pardon Emperor’s subordinates were unjustly put to death in prison; others were persecuted and killed on the road to exile. The memorials impeaching the Pardon Emperor that came before the throne, which the Hope Emperor had once withheld and not acted upon, were now forwarded to the three bureaus with a demand for thorough investigation. By this point, the Pardon Emperor had been left with no retreat: either he would submit and await his end, or he would defy his sovereign and declare himself. If only he himself stood to suffer, he might have borne it without hesitation — but when his family would be implicated and the subordinates who had shared life and death with him in complete loyalty would be dragged down alongside him, he could not stand by and allow it. And so he had no choice but to take the second path.

“It was not that I wished it — in truth, it was the force of circumstances that compelled it!”

How much helplessness and sorrow were contained in those few short words! And in the moment that figure spoke them, what depths of anguish and unyielding resolve must have dwelt within his heart!

“My King, if the Feng King were an ordinary woman, then all would be well. But she is a woman without equal, surpassing even the greatest of men — one such as has not been seen in a hundred generations!”

Lanxi lowered his head slightly, raised one hand to rest an elbow against the chair, and let his five fingers support his forehead, his face hidden beneath his palm. After a long silence, there came at last those barely audible words: “It truly is like a mirror…”

The reason the Pardon Emperor had arrived at such extremity — beyond being forced by circumstance — lay in something more fundamental: all people place themselves above all else. When one’s own life and interests come under threat, then all notions of righteousness, family affection, and friendship are cast aside entirely. Drive any person to the very brink of annihilation, and the selfish, coldly indifferent nature that lies at the deepest core of the human heart — swathed in layer upon layer of fine moral cloth, in the garments of decorum and righteousness — will expose itself without concealment. In the reckoning of every person, it is always the self that stands first.

Truly a remarkable mirror… one that showed every strand with perfect clarity, reflecting the two of them without omission. Would they too… end as the Hope Emperor and the Pardon Emperor had? Xiyun… eyes falling shut — and before them rose the image of two clasped, intertwined hands deep within the Valley of No Return…

Beneath a pitch-black canopy of sky, countless torches blazed, illuminating the earth in the darkness below. In the light of those flames lay a scene of devastating carnage. Banners soaked in blood had fallen into the mud; helmets and broken blades were scattered in every direction; innumerable bodies lay still and silent; a warhorse cried out now and then in a solitary lament. Severed heads. Eyes — some open, some closed. Faces etched with terror and despair. Expressions twisted in agony and struggle. In that sea of blood, in that muddy ruin, all of it lay still as a horrifying painting spread before every pair of eyes.

By the time Dong Shufang received the news and arrived with his forces, what tens of thousands of men beheld was exactly this sight. Tens of thousands of men stared in stunned, wordless silence… and after a long time, some let out cries of grief, cries of mourning, long, broken howls of sorrow… Among the dead, some had left behind family — others had left behind companions, friends they had grown up alongside. With a clatter of armor, tens of thousands of men, without being told, sank to their knees upon the ground, paying their silent respects to their fallen comrades…

“Transmit the order — General Le is to lead his troops at full speed and reach Xiyuan before the third watch tonight to join forces with our army!”

Dong Shufang pressed his hand firmly to the great saber at his waist, his eyes blazing as he looked out across the desolate plain sunk in the deep of night. What swift action! Splitting the army should never have been done! The great name Feng Xiyun commands today was not earned by chance.

“Juan City is small and weak. If the full weight of an eighty-thousand-strong army were brought to bear against its walls, with the forces we have, we might not hold for even two days. Moreover, the people of Juan City have barely begun to recover from the terror of the last time the city was breached — to let them suffer yet again the calamity of falling walls and destroyed homes, to bring about yet more innocent deaths in vain, would be… and so we withdraw from Juan City. However, since the Grand General of the East has come specifically to subdue me, wherever I retreat he will pursue — and so we must have our battle regardless.”

“The royal domain is largely flat plains. Aside from the First Great Mountain, Cangmang Shan, the entire royal domain has only five small mountains. Mount Luoying is one of them. Mount Luoying earned its name from its shape — viewed from the heights of Cangmang Shan looking down over the entire royal domain plain, Mount Luoying resembles a fallen flower drifting upon that plain. This flower, sculpted from earth and rock, has two layers of petals, and nestled within the second layer of petals is a lake. Within the lake there rises a small mountain peak — the pale blue of the lake and the deep green of the peak form something like the heart of the flower. And this time, our battlefield will be on this beautiful Mount Luoying.”

“The Grand General of the East will of course have no inclination to join us on a leisurely tour of Mount Luoying — and so we have a first battlefield as well, and that is Xiyuan. On that plain, we will invite the Grand General onto Mount Luoying.”

In the royal tent, bright with lantern light as white as full day, Xiyun’s finger came to rest lightly on the map, her voice ringing clear and resolute.

The twenty-third day of the tenth month. The hour of You.

Across Xiyuan, the two sides stood arrayed in clear, distinct formation. On one side, seventy thousand Imperial Guards clad in brown armor; on the other, thirty thousand Fengyun cavalry clad in silver. The northern wind, carrying with it the first bite of cold, swept across the plain, snapping the banners into sharp, ceaseless motion. The red tassels on the long spears fluttered in the wind like wisps of blood-red silk, their vivid, saturated color more brilliant than the deep red sun hanging slanted at the edge of the sky.

At the very front of the Imperial Guards rode the Grand General of the East, with Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guards Le Yuan at his side — a powerfully built man of about forty years, with a tall and solid frame that gave an impression of fierce and formidable strength. Behind them stood five deputy generals who had accompanied the campaign.

At the very front of the Fengyun cavalry, it was Lin Ji and Xiu Jiurong who led. The queen who ordinarily stood at the forefront of her army going into battle was nowhere to be seen. Yet even facing an enemy many times their number, the Fengyun cavalry stood with formation intact and fighting spirit blazing.

Boom, boom, boom… boom, boom, boom…

The war drums thundered. In an instant, battle cries surged to the sky, and both armies swept toward each other like rushing tides. When the silver tide and the brown tide crashed together, the sharp, piercing clash of weapons stabbed at every eardrum. Rising with it came anguished screams and cries of pain, and vivid red blood splashed across faces. Warriors threw their full strength into every swing of every saber, striking at enemies’ heads, thrusting at enemies’ chests…

This was a battle of lopsided numbers, and so the tide of victory and defeat began to reveal itself quickly. Imperial Guards who could attack a single Fengyun cavalry soldier two or three at once soon gained an overwhelming advantage, and the outnumbered Fengyun cavalry, pressed by the fierce and powerful momentum of the Imperial Guards, began to show fear, falling back step by step. Some of the more timid among them were so startled by the enemy that they even dropped their weapons, wheeled their horses around, and fled back the way they had come. And on a battlefield, when one person first breaks and runs, more will follow — slowly at first, only a few thin silver trickles retreating rearward, but after half an hour of brutal, grinding fighting, with no hope of victory in sight, more than half the Fengyun cavalry had lost their nerve and were fleeing backward!

The Imperial Guards, in the full heat of battle and not about to let the enemy escape — especially when they still burned to avenge their fallen ten thousand brothers — pressed forward step by step, giving the enemy not a single moment’s breath. Yet clearly, though the Fengyun cavalry were fewer in number and their fighting spirit had entirely collapsed, their speed in fleeing surpassed that of their pursuers, and the gap between the two gradually widened.

The soldiers had begun to run — but the two great generals of the Fengyun cavalry, Lin Ji and Xiu Jiurong, were fighters of formidable skill, and they could not possibly flee as ignominiously as the ordinary soldiers. In the fighting, they managed separately to shoot and cut down one deputy general each from the enemy’s ranks — but when they saw the great army continuing its retreat and shouted to halt it, their voices could not reach across the entire force. When several enemy deputy generals closed in on them together, they too had no choice but to wheel their horses and retreat.

“Grand General, do you wish to order a full pursuit?” Le Yuan consulted with Dong Shufang, though the eager, impatient look on his face had already plainly declared his own opinion on the matter.

Watching the Fengyun cavalry as they fell back in continuous retreat, Dong Shufang’s heavy brows furrowed slightly. For a force as far-famed as the Fengyun cavalry, the battle had not yet lasted a full hour before the other side had completely lost the will to fight. The victory had come perhaps too easily. Yet when his gaze swept across his own forces — their morale at this moment soaring to the sky — he still gave the command with force and decision: “Full pursuit!”

He had already surveyed Xiyuan thoroughly in advance. There would be no repeat of the vanguard walking blindly into Feng Xiyun’s trap. And even if the other side had some trick prepared, with his seventy thousand troops, he did not believe she could maneuver them again so easily!

“Yes!” Le Yuan accepted the order with excitement.

The commander’s order given, the Imperial Guards were like a great brown torrent breaking through a floodgate — sweeping forward at full speed in pursuit of the retreating Fengyun cavalry, determined to bring their enemies under the blade and vent at last the fury burning in their chests. Those fleeing ahead showed not the slightest intention of resistance, only fleeing for their lives toward the rear, abandoning helmets and broken swords along the way in a sorry, disheveled rout. And time slipped away within this chase — the sun descended and vanished; dusk crept in quietly and settled over everything.

“Pass the order — cease pursuit!” Dong Shufang looked at Mount Luoying ahead as he issued the command.

“Grand General, why do we not press on?” Le Yuan asked, not understanding.

“The light is failing.” Dong Shufang looked at Mount Luoying, into which the Fengyun cavalry had now fully retreated. “They have retreated into the mountain forest — to pursue now would work against our army and expose us to the risk of ambush. Pass the order: encircle Mount Luoying!”

And the Fengyun cavalry, having now fully retreated into Mount Luoying with no enemy in pursuit behind them, allowed themselves one brief breath of relief before swiftly and nimbly beginning their ascent of the mountain’s first petal.

“When the decisive battle is joined at Xiyuan, the Grand General will certainly commit all seventy thousand troops. With our thirty thousand we are in no way a match — and so it will not be long after the battle begins before our army must ‘suffer defeat and retreat.’ The Grand General is a renowned commander; feigned defeat and true defeat are plain as day to him, and so our retreat must be half genuine and half feigned, leaving him unable to see through it entirely. However, our army has just destroyed his ten-thousand-strong vanguard — the Imperial Guards will be seething with fury, and soldiers fighting with hatred burning in them will fight all the harder. I suspect our retreat will scarcely need to be feigned at all.”

“We retreat; the Grand General may be wary, but with his seventy thousand troops — far outnumbering ours — he will certainly pursue. By the time he reaches Mount Luoying in the chase, it should be near dusk. He will have misgivings about pressing directly into the mountain and will instead surround it completely, using his seventy thousand troops to seal it off and cut off our army’s route of escape — his intention being to trap our army and starve us out on the mountaintop.”

“Pass the order — every soldier is to carry enough dry rations for three days!”

Recalling the words the Queen had spoken that day, Lin Ji could not help murmuring softly: “This first step has unfolded entirely according to the Queen’s plan — and it has gone very smoothly.”

Xiu Jiurong glanced at him. That glance seemed to suggest he found this observation somewhat superfluous and rather foolish: “The Queen has never made an incorrect decision.”

“Hmm, you — you young fellow — still have that same blind, absolute faith in the Queen.” Lin Ji smiled lightly at Xiu Jiurong, and that sardonic expression arose on his face as naturally as breathing. Just as naturally, he reached out to pat Xiu Jiurong on the face — but Xiu Jiurong simply turned his head aside, letting the hand land on nothing but air. This, admittedly, also owed something to the difference in their heights.

“Ah, once the little brother grows up, he’s no fun at all.” Lin Ji grumbled. His height was not exactly short by any measure — by ordinary standards he was squarely in the middle range — but among the Fengyun Six Generals he was the shortest, with the result that the giant-like Cheng Zhi frequently mocked him with the nickname “shorty.”

“Let’s go — the Queen has probably been waiting for us a long time.” Xiu Jiurong paid his words no mind and quickened his pace, leaving Lin Ji rapidly behind him.

“Just like an eager little dog rushing to be near its master.” The Lin Ji left behind watched that swiftly moving figure receding ahead and began murmuring to himself again. Though his own footsteps, it must be said, had likewise become considerably more hurried — it was only unfortunate that there was no one at his own back to toss the very same remark in his direction.