Early spring finally arrived in the Northern Border by March, as the harsh ice and snow of winter retreated. Young grass shoots emerged through the scattered snow in the wilderness.
Lu City, which had grown quiet after the Clear Snow Festival, gradually came back to life.
During the three winter months, Western Rong had attempted to attack Lu City no fewer than ten times. Fortunately, heaven favored them—the early winter battle had cost the enemy two generals and severely damaged their morale. When they mounted subsequent attacks, supply lines proved difficult to maintain. Though minor skirmishes continued, they posed no real challenge to Li Shuang.
After several intermittent battles of varying scale, the three months passed relatively peacefully.
Western Rong finally withdrew their forces to their capital, ceasing their harassment of Great Jin’s borders. The unusually harsh winter had left their nation in a concerning state. With spring’s arrival, they needed to focus on recovery. Other nomadic tribes beyond the border fared no better—across the entire Northern Border, only Lu City maintained its military strength. It seemed unlikely any external enemies would dare to invade for the next three years.
With spring’s arrival came a succession of good news.
Li Shuang had just descended from the city wall and returned to her tent, removing her heavy helmet, when an urgent letter arrived.
After reading it, she gazed at the frontier sky beyond her tent and released a long breath.
“The capital’s situation has stabilized. The Eastern Palace now holds power.”
For this letter to reach the Northern Border meant the new emperor had been enthroned for at least half a month. Sima Yang had transformed from Crown Prince to Emperor. That youth whose face had bled from her punch when they first met had completely vanished from memory, replaced by an increasingly austere countenance that none would dare to look upon directly.
But this was for the best.
Hearing Li Shuang’s words, Qin Lan clasped his hands and bowed: “Congratulations, General.” This was truly cause for celebration—with Sima Yang’s ascension, the General’s Manor’s position would likely rise even higher. Their family’s glory would inspire envy throughout the realm.
“There’s joy, but also some less welcome news,” Li Shuang said as she spread paper on the table. “Father says the frontier situation has stabilized, and orders me to choose a date to return to the capital and pay respects to the new emperor.”
Qin Lan’s brow furrowed slightly.
The old general had always missed his daughter but never actively asked Li Shuang to return to the capital, always respecting her wishes. Now, with the new emperor’s ascension, ordering her back to pay respects seemed reasonable, but the implications gave pause for thought.
After all, Sima Yang had shown interest in Li Shuang…
Qin Lan still remembered three months ago, when they found Li Shuang in that stone cave and brought her back, how intensely emotional Sima Yang’s gaze had been as he looked upon her unconscious form.
Later, though An Yang had rushed back to the capital for urgent matters, his final words had been instructions to protect Li Shuang.
Qin Lan had understood the Crown Prince’s expression then. Those hawk-like eyes had seemed to make a firm vow—he didn’t want to lose Li Shuang again. So he had emphasized:
“Protect Li Shuang no matter what. No matter what.”
And now, just as the capital’s situation stabilized, the old general’s letter ordering Li Shuang’s return—whether this truly came from the old general’s wishes or the new emperor’s…
Moreover.
With Sima Yang’s ascension and the General’s Manor at the height of imperial favor, Li Shuang had single-handedly held the northern frontier. Great Jin’s most valiant Long Feng Camp soldiers were utterly loyal to her. Throughout history, emperors have always disposed of loyal servants once their usefulness ended. With Li Shuang’s return to the capital, this military power…
As these thoughts churned in Qin Lan’s mind, Li Shuang had already written a reply and handed it to him: “I am unwell and unable to depart from the Northern Border at present. Qin Lan, please deliver this letter to the capital and pay respects to the new emperor on my behalf.”
Qin Lan accepted the letter, caught between laughter and tears.
He hadn’t expected Li Shuang to refuse so decisively, nor that this thankless task—certain to earn the general’s scolding and the emperor’s cold eye—would fall to him. But… truly, no one was more suitable than him.
As Li Shuang’s guard captain and highest-ranking deputy, he would naturally be first in line if she didn’t return.
“This humble officer accepts the mission.” Qin Lan saluted, hesitating before voicing his concern, “However, General, with the new emperor’s ascension and the General’s Manor at its peak of favor, regarding Long Feng Camp…”
“I understand your worry.” Li Shuang smiled. “It’s all addressed in the letter. I simply don’t want to return to the capital, not that I’m unwilling to transfer authority.”
Qin Lan couldn’t help but look up at Li Shuang. She understood everything—she simply feared that once she returned to the capital, she would never be able to leave again. After all, she now faced an emperor with absolute power.
Qin Lan left the tent and began handling the transfer of his duties, preparing to depart for the capital the next day.
As evening approached, another message arrived. Li Shuang was dining in the camp when a commotion arose outside. She went to investigate and found soldiers gathered around a horse slowly walking forward.
The horse was breathing heavily, its breath forming clouds in the still-cold evening air. The messenger on its back lay motionless, face buried in the horse’s mane, blood dripping from his hand. Upon closer inspection, the veins on his hand were black, and the blood that fell was as dark as mud.
It was an extremely bizarre sight.
“Who is this?” Li Shuang frowned as she asked. A soldier gathered his courage to grab the horse’s reins, and as the horse stopped, the rider fell unconsciously from its back.
Blood-matted hair lay messily across his face, but it didn’t prevent everyone from seeing his features—blue-black lips, wide-open eyes, barely breathing.
“Chang Wanshan!” Li Shuang recognized him. Three months ago, when she had first awakened from unconsciousness, Qin Lan had sent Chang Wanshan, a former jianghu member, to investigate the mysterious black-armored man. There had been no word from him these three months, and Li Shuang had thought…
Yet here he had returned.
“Commander Chang? Why is he like this…” someone called out. “Medical Officer! Quickly summon the Medical Officer!”
Chang Wanshan stared at Li Shuang, using almost his last strength to raise his hand. He clutched a crumpled letter stained with his black blood—no one dared take it.
Li Shuang anxiously pushed aside the soldiers in front of her and took the paper her guard had exchanged his life to deliver.
Opening it, she found just eight characters—
South Changshan Mountain, Wu Ling Sect, Gu Clan.
News of the mysterious man!
South Changshan Mountain and Wu Ling Sect—Li Shuang had heard of this jianghu sect before. The Wu Ling Sect dwelled in the southern mountains, extremely mysterious yet numerous. More than a martial arts sect, they were like an isolated mysterious tribe. Due to their seclusion, the court had little understanding of this sect in Great Jin’s southernmost region, and they had never caused any trouble.
Thus the court maintained a policy of mutual non-interference, rarely intersecting.
Yet this quiet, mysterious sect had now used schemes against the Crown Prince to capture that mysterious man…
That mysterious man…
Three months of suppressed emotions swept away like sand in the wind.
That unexpected kiss on the snowy mountaintop, the intimacy by the hot spring pool, his embrace as he rescued her from thousands of troops, their conversations, arguments, and opposition, even his tears falling on her face at the end—all surged back into her heart at this moment.
She had thought of him often these three months, that man who only appeared with the night and moon.
But the awaited news never came, and those sent to investigate found no traces.
She had finally had to admit that even her power had its limits. She had waited three months, believing she would never receive the news she wanted in this lifetime. But now, finally, it had come.
Li Shuang put away the letter, suppressing her thoughts as she knelt to check Chang Wanshan’s pulse. “You’ve been poisoned?”
Chang Wanshan struggled to shake his head: “Gu… General, don’t… touch… this servant…”
Yet even as he spoke, where Li Shuang touched his wrist, the black marks following his meridians seemed to fear her presence, suddenly retreating from her touch, his skin returning to normal color where she had contacted it.
Seeing this, Li Shuang’s eyes narrowed slightly. She moved her hand forward a bit, and indeed! The black energy retreated again, avoiding her touch.
“Where is your worst injury?” she asked him.
Chang Wanshan gritted his teeth, seeming to endure immense pain: “Heart… chest.”
“This may hurt.” Li Shuang placed her hand on Chang Wanshan’s chest. His eyes suddenly bulged, mouth gaping, face bloodless, as if the pain was too great even to scream.
At that moment as his body went rigid, something surged in his chest, like multiple worms rapidly crawling beneath his skin, rushing up his throat. Chang Wanshan turned to the side and violently vomited a mass of black, viscous matter.
The mass seemed to contain moving insects. The crowd recoiled in shock. The insects, apparently fearing the air, quickly burrowed into the ground and vanished.
After this massive expulsion, Chang Wanshan took several rough breaths, as if even breathing exhausted him. He collapsed to the ground, closed his eyes, and barely breathed.
The medical officer finally pushed through the crowd with his box of supplies. He pressed Chang Wanshan’s philtrum and inserted several needles before checking his pulse.
“Hmm…” The medical officer looked confused. “Qi deficiency, but no major injuries. Some recovery time and he’ll be fine.”
The crowd exchanged glances: “Medical Officer, he’s covered in blood—no injuries?”
“None.”
Luo Teng, who had been watching from the side, scratched his head: “Did the General cure him? General, what inner force technique was that, to expel those things from his body?”
Li Shuang remained silent at this question, watching as soldiers carried Chang Wanshan back to the tent. She simply stared at her hand without speaking.
She knew better than anyone that she hadn’t used any inner force just now. If Chang Wanshan truly had been infected with gu as he claimed, it proved that the gu feared her essence so much they wouldn’t even remain in their host’s body…
She…
It seemed her body had undergone some changes without her knowledge.