In the Northern Rong main tent, Yelü Ye and Helian Zhen sat together. Helian Zhen’s expression was grave as he remained silent, while Yelü Ye paced back and forth restlessly, his sword-like eyebrows tightly knitted, his face showing traces of anxiety and unease.

After countless rounds of pacing, Yelü Ye stopped and turned to Helian Zhen: “Uncle, there won’t be any problems with General Helian, will there?” Helian Zhen steadied himself and said in a deep voice, “Your Highness, please remain calm. We’ve received no bad news from Peng’s side, we mustn’t lose our composure.”

Yelü Ye nodded, remained silent for a long while, then said gravely, “I don’t know why, but I feel an inexplicable unease.”

Helian Zhen remained wordless, unsure if it was an excessive worry or if something had truly happened. It wasn’t just Yelü Ye feeling uneasy—Helian Zhen also vaguely sensed something amiss.

After some thought, Helian Zhen stood up: “I’ll send more men to scout.”

Perhaps due to his genuine bad feeling, Yelü Ye nodded: “Uncle, send more people, and have them report back immediately with any news.”

“Yes.” Helian Zhen acknowledged and turned to leave the tent.

Just as Helian Zhen stepped out, he saw a streak of fire shooting in from outside the camp, landing directly in the Northern Rong encampment. It struck a tent and, although it was deep winter with frost coating many tents preventing immediate ignition, it still startled many people. After a moment of shock, Helian Zhen immediately reacted, shouting: “Enemy attack!”

Yelü Ye, still in the main tent, heard his voice and immediately rushed out, demanding: “What’s happening?!” Helian Zhen’s eyes were slightly red as he said: “The Mohist Army is outside the camp! Defend!”

That single fire arrow instantly threw the entire Northern Rong camp into chaos. Moments later, deep horn blasts echoed through the camp. All soldiers immediately grabbed their weapons and rushed out of their tents to defend themselves, but unfortunately, as soon as the frontline soldiers appeared at the gates, they were met with a devastating rain of arrows. In the darkness, with the enemy hidden and themselves exposed, they could barely see the arrows until they were almost upon them.

“It’s the Mohist Army!” someone shouted.

The entire Northern Rong camp instantly fell into disorder. Helian Zhen, burning with rage, loudly commanded the officers to lead their soldiers in defense.

Not far from the Northern Rong camp, Mo Xiuyao and Ye Li sat side by side on horseback, accompanied by the red-clad Feng Zhiyao, Zhuo Jing, Lin Han, and others. Watching the Northern Rong army caught completely off guard, everyone’s spirits soared.

Mo Xiaobao sat in front of Mo Xiuyao, hidden under his broad battle robe with only his small head visible. His bright, intelligent eyes watched the distant Northern Rong camp with its rising flames and battle cries, clearly fascinated by the scene.

After the recent attrition, the Northern Rong army’s numbers were already close to the Mohist Army’s. Now with most of their forces led away by Helian Peng, they were outnumbered by the Mohist Army. Under sudden attack, the Northern Rong forces collapsed like a mountain. In less than half an hour, the entire situation had already begun to tip decisively in the Mohist Army’s favor.

Helian Zhen led his guard in protecting Yelü Ye as they fought and retreated, turning back to say: “Your Highness, we’ve fallen for their trap. I fear Peng won’t make it back in time—we should withdraw first!”

“Withdraw?! Where can we possibly withdraw to?” Yelü Ye’s face showed his path. This wasn’t just angry words—their current position was less than two hundred li from the Northern Rong border. If they retreated further, they would truly be withdrawing into Northern Rong territory. This would signal that their grand campaign against Da Chu, which had lasted two to three years and begun so magnificently, would end in the most humiliating way possible.

Yelü Ye naturally didn’t want this, but the current situation left him no choice. Either retreat or fight to the death waiting for Helian Peng’s return. But regardless of whether Helian Peng could return or not, the price of fighting to the death was not one Yelü Ye was willing to pay. Throwing a fierce glance toward where the Mohist Army commanders were positioned, Yelü Ye said hatefully: “Withdraw!”

The retreat horns sounded in the night, and the already demoralized Northern Rong soldiers immediately began flowing like a tide in the direction of Yelü Ye’s retreat. Though the Mohist soldiers pursued, they maintained an unhurried pace, neither pressing too close nor falling too far behind. Helian Zhen sensed something wrong, but the current situation left them only two options: forward or back. They obviously couldn’t turn back to face the Mohist Army head-on, so they could only press forward.

Meanwhile, Helian Peng, who had been surrounded by Qilin, finally broke free after an hour. By the time he had regrouped his forces and broken through Yun Ting’s encirclement, the eastern sky was beginning to show the first light of dawn.

Behind them, Yun Ting and his men calmly watched the direction of the Northern Rong army’s retreat with a faint smile. One of the Qilin members said frustratedly: “Why didn’t we kill him? Why let him go?” Although Helian Peng’s martial arts were indeed formidable, for the well-trained Qilin who had experienced many battles against powerful opponents, he wasn’t the most formidable they’d faced. Taking his life would have been just a matter of time.

Xu Qingfeng tapped his subordinate’s forehead: “Since our lord gave such orders, he naturally has his reasons. Let’s go too—we don’t want to miss the show.”

Everyone agreed, and after brief preparations, they pursued in the direction the Northern Rong army had fled.

When Helian Peng finally met up with Yelü Ye and the others, it was already broad daylight. Though the thick morning fog nearly caused them to attack each other by mistake, the two forces eventually joined up.

It wasn’t safe to stay in unfamiliar terrain in such dense fog, but the Northern Rong soldiers were exhausted from the night’s fighting and fleeing. Helian Zhen had no choice but to find an open area for a brief rest. When they counted their forces, the numbers made all three men’s faces turn ashen. Of their original hundreds of thousands of troops, after a night of fighting, less than two hundred thousand remained. Of these, at least ninety percent were from the forces Helian Peng had brought back. Almost all the troops who had remained in the camp had been annihilated.

Helian Zhen looked glumly at Yelü Ye, who sat lost in thought, then turned to Helian Peng: “Peng, how did you find us?”

Helian Peng frowned and said gravely: “After breaking out of Yun Ting’s forces, the child encountered four or five Mohist Army blockades, fighting through them until we happened to meet Father and His Highness here.”

Helian Zhen’s thick eyebrows furrowed as he said in a deep voice: “This isn’t right… we’ve been running ahead with the Mohist Army pursuing. Even if we got lost, we couldn’t have strayed too far from the main direction. How could you encounter us while being pursued?”

Helian Peng’s heart jumped, and he suddenly leaped up: “Father!”

Helian Zhen looked at him as Helian Peng’s expression darkened and he said through gritted teeth: “We’ve fallen into Mo Xiuyao’s trap!” Helian Zhen started, his face changing as he grabbed Helian Peng and said urgently: “You mean…”

“Haha, isn’t it a bit late for General Helian to realize this now?” An amused, low laugh came from the distance through the thick fog. Though the voice seemed extremely far when it began, by the time the words ended it seemed to be right in front of them. Helian Zhen and the others looked toward the sound and saw, where the dense fog parted, a white-haired figure in white clothing appearing somewhat abruptly. Through the light fog, his expression wasn’t clear, but both Helian Peng and Helian Zhen could sense he was smiling—an extremely cold smile.

“Mo… Xiu… Yao!” Helian Zhen said through gritted teeth.

“Indeed it is I. After nineteen years, it wasn’t easy to invite General Helian for a reunion in Returning Wind Valley.” Mo Xiuyao stood in his white clothing, his white hair flying freely in the cold wind. A faint smile curved his lips, but his words somehow carried a bone-chilling killing intent.

“This is Returning Wind Valley?!” Helian Zhen cried out in shock.

Mo Xiuyao smiled: “Indeed it is. Who would have thought that in less than twenty years, General Helian would already have forgotten? Though… I’m sure Ghost Sorrow Valley left a much deeper impression on General Helian. Unfortunately, this time we can’t host you in Ghost Sorrow Valley.” Returning Wind Valley was where the Mohist Army had been trapped by Helian Zhen’s scheme and where the previous Ding King, Mo Xiuwen, had lost his life not far from here. Ghost Sorrow Valley, less than fifty li away, was where Mo Xiuyao had defeated Helian Zhen with a great fire, though Mo Xiuyao himself had been severely wounded. These two places would surely be unforgettable for anyone who had participated in those battles.

As Mo Xiuyao spoke, countless Mohist soldiers emerged from all around them. Through the fog, only countless dark shadows could be seen moving, seeming as cold and ethereal as the netherworld, terrifying the already exhausted and hungry Northern Rong soldiers even more.

Behind Mo Xiuyao, several figures gradually appeared: Ye Li and Yun Ting in white, the Third Young Master Feng in red, Xu Qingfeng, Zhuo Jing, and Lin Han in black, all staring intently at the Northern Rong soldiers below. Only Mo Xiaobao, in black brocade clothing beside Ye Li, though awake all night, was clearly in high spirits. His round eyes watched the people below curiously. After looking at the serious faces around him, he tugged curiously at Feng Zhiyao’s clothes.

Feng Zhiyao quietly shook his head at Mo Xiaobao, gesturing with his eyes toward Mo Xiuyao. Mo Xiaobao pouted slightly, then quietly moved to Mo Xiuyao’s side. “Father…”

Mo Xiuyao smiled faintly, bent down to pick up Mo Xiaobao, and said: “Yu Chen, do you know what place this is?”

This was the first time Mo Xiuyao had so formally used his full name, and Mo Xiaobao blinked his eyes, asking curiously: “Father, what place is this?”

“This… is where our Mohist Army’s martyrs and your uncle met their end,” Mo Xiuyao said gravely.

Mo Xiaobao blinked his eyes. Though young, he had naturally been taught about the history of the Mohist Army and the Ding King’s manor. He knew he had an uncle whom his father greatly respected who had been killed by the Northern Rong. Three lies not dying. But now he understood that in their current situation, he no longer had any say. With several hundred thousand Mohist troops surrounding them and less than two hundred thousand of their own defeated soldiers remaining, even fighting to the death wouldn’t break through. With just one command from Mo Xiuyao, a rain of arrows would end the Northern Rong army in an instant.

“Father, are we going to avenge Uncle?” Mo Xiaobao asked, his large eyes wide.

“Indeed,” Mo Xiuyao said gravely.

Feng Zhiyao and the others standing behind Mo Xiuyao couldn’t help but glance at Ye Li. The young heir wasn’t even eight years old—wasn’t it a bit excessive to let such a young child witness this kind of scene? Ye Li sighed helplessly, seeing how enthusiastic Mo Xiaobao appeared, not showing any signs of fear. She truly worried that her well-behaved son was being led astray by Mo Xiuyao. But no matter how close Mo Xiaobao was to Ye Li, boys naturally tended to follow their fathers in certain matters. Like now.

From within the Northern Rong army, Yelü Ye stepped forward, his face ashen as he stared at Mo Xiuyao and said in a deep voice: “The Ding King has great skill and patience!” By now, how could Yelü Ye not understand that Mo Xiuyao had been toying with them all along? His ultimate goal was to drive the Northern Rong army to Returning Wind Valley to avenge Mo Xiuwen’s ambush here years ago.

Mo Xiuyao smiled and nodded: “You’re too kind. In any case, even if the Seventh Prince returned to Northern Rong now with these defeated troops, you would be no match for Prince Yelü Hong. Better to die here in Returning Wind Valley—it would preserve Your Highness’s reputation. You should thank me.”

Yelü Ye’s expression twisted. Even ants cling to life, let alone humans. Yelü Ye wasn’t afraid of death, but he didn’t want to die like this. Yet he understood that their situation was no longer in his control. Faced with several hundred thousand Mohist troops surrounding them, his less than two hundred thousand defeated soldiers couldn’t break through even if they fought to the death. With just one command from Mo Xiuyao, a rain of arrows would end the Northern Rong army in an instant.

Helian Zhen’s face was deathly pale as he remained silent. Helian Peng stood beside Yelü Ye, his gaze fixed like arrows on Ye Li beside Mo Xiuyao.

“I, Helian Peng, request a duel with the Ding King’s consort!” Helian Peng suddenly stepped forward and said in a deep voice.

The Mohist Army commanders’ gazes swept toward Helian Peng as one, looking at him as if he were insane. Challenging the Ding King’s consort in front of the Ding King—this man must have truly lost his mind.

Sure enough, Mo Xiuyao gave a cold laugh and said calmly: “Why doesn’t General Helian challenge me instead? Do you look down on me?” Helian Peng glanced at Mo Xiuyao but didn’t answer, keeping his gaze fixed on Ye Li.

Ye Li smiled faintly and stepped forward: “Since General Helian is so inclined, I shall oblige. Please.” Though Ye Li had no fondness for Helian Peng, as a national general he naturally knew that publicly challenging a woman would bring no honor regardless of the outcome. That he would still insist despite knowing he faced certain death at least proved he truly regarded Ye Li as an opponent.

“A’Li.” Mo Xiuyao frowned slightly. Ye Li’s inner power was far inferior to Helian Peng’s. Though he was confident that with him present Ye Li’s life wouldn’t be in danger, he couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t be injured.

Ye Li shook her head and smiled: “I’ll be fine.”

Ye Li stepped forward, a flash of silver emerging from her sleeve as a gleaming short blade appeared in her hand. Opposite her, Helian Peng held his usual long blade—just looking at their weapons made the matchup seem extremely unequal.

Helian Peng didn’t stand on ceremony, thrusting his long blade forward in a level slash toward Ye Li. She stepped slightly aside, her white figure swift as a wild goose as she closed in on Helian Peng. In the light fog, observers only saw two figures alternately separating and merging, the sound of clashing weapons constant. Fighting Helian Peng, Ye Li frowned slightly—in terms of both strength and inner power, she was no match for him. After just a few clashes between the short blade and the long blade, Ye Li’s right hand was already going numb. She stopped meeting Helian Peng’s attacks directly, quickly closing in for close combat. This nullified Helian Peng’s long-blade advantage. Several times he tried to create distance but failed. In close combat, few in the world could match Ye Li—without using inner power, even Mo Xiuyao might not gain much advantage. As such, for the moment they seemed evenly matched.

The two fought for nearly a hundred exchanges, neither gaining the upper hand. Helian Peng’s gaze darkened as he channeled his powerful inner force into his palm and struck at Ye Li. She reacted even faster, drawing another blade from her left sleeve and unhesitatingly stabbing toward Helian Peng’s abdomen while dodging his palm strike. Helian Peng was so focused on seriously wounding Ye Li that he ignored her approaching dagger. As pain shot through his abdomen, his palm strike also landed on Ye Li. Though she had dodged aside, she still suffered some internal injury. She withdrew her dagger and quickly retreated.

As soon as Ye Li withdrew her dagger, Helian Peng realized the trouble he was in. Ye Li’s dagger was specially forged in the military knife style with a blood groove—once it penetrated, the bleeding wouldn’t stop. The last time when Helian Peng’s arm was wounded, it had taken considerable time to heal. This abdominal wound would be even worse. However, Helian Peng knew that falling into Mo Xiuyao’s hands meant certain death—if he could kill or seriously wound Ye Li, what did it matter if he bled to death?

Ye Li retreated some distance and stood firm, a trace of blood at the corner of her lips. Looking at Helian Peng leaning on his long blade, blood flowing freely from his abdomen, she wiped the blood from her lips and said calmly: “Thank you for the match, General Helian.”

Helian Peng gave a cold laugh and threw away his long blade to charge at Ye Li. Her eyes flashed as her right hand’s short blade gleamed like a white rainbow passing by Helian Peng. After their brief crossing, they separated again. Ye Li turned back around, while on the other side, Helian Peng fell silently, a thin line of blood slowly blooming across his throat.

“Peng!” Helian Zhen cried out hoarsely. Though Helian Peng was only his adopted son, he had raised him since childhood. Moreover, Helian Zhen had no children of his own, so Helian Peng was no different from a biological son. In this world, besides Yelü Ye, no one mattered more to Helian Zhen than Helian Peng. Seeing him die at Ye Li’s hands, he naturally was devastated. He fell onto Helian Peng’s body, weeping bitterly, then raised his head to glare fiercely at Ye Li.

Ye Li casually cleaned the blood from her dagger and walked back to Mo Xiuyao’s side. Seeing her injuries weren’t serious, he finally relaxed.

Losing Helian Peng, their strongest warrior, at the very start was another devastating blow to the already demoralized Northern Rong army. Yelü Ye looked helplessly at his surrounding soldiers and smiled bitterly. By now the fog had largely dispersed, revealing Mohist soldiers densely packed in all directions. In this situation, forget about breaking through—they likely couldn’t make any move at all.

“I have lost. What does the Ding King want?” Yelü Ye closed his eyes and said coldly.

Mo Xiuyao smiled calmly: “What I want—doesn’t General Helian already know?”

Hearing this, Helian Zhen’s face changed dramatically. “Mo Xiuyao! You…” Helian Zhen couldn’t help but recall the two great fires from nineteen years ago. One was here in Returning Wind Valley, where he watched countless Mohist soldiers die horribly in the flames. The other was in Ghost Sorrow Valley, where both the Mohist Army and Northern Rong were devastated, Mo Xiuyao nearly died from his wounds, and Northern Rong was almost permanently crippled. But now… Mo Xiuyao intended to…

“Ding King, the Seventh Prince has already admitted defeat!” Helian Zhen’s pride wouldn’t let him say the word “surrender,” so he could only follow Yelü Ye’s phrasing of admitting defeat.

“So what?” Mo Xiuyao raised an eyebrow. “I’ve waited nineteen years for this day, just to offer sacrifices to the Mohist Army’s fallen spirits here in Returning Wind Valley. Therefore… surrender or not, all Northern Rong people who entered Da Chu’s borders must die!”

From this exchange, how could Yelü Ye not understand Mo Xiuyao’s intentions? He planned to burn them all to death in Returning Wind Valley to avenge the Mohist soldiers who had died unjustly here years ago. Yelü Ye’s throat ached as he stepped forward and said through gritted teeth: “Ding King, I have lost—regardless of life or death, I submit to your judgment. But please, spare these Northern Rong soldiers. They were only following orders.”

Behind Mo Xiuyao, Feng Zhiyao gave a cold laugh: “Is the Prince saying that those behind you never slaughtered our innocent Central Plains civilians?” Yelü Ye had no response. Rivers of blood had flowed in northern Da Chu, mostly the lives of ordinary Da Chu civilians. To the point where nine out of ten homes in the entire north were empty—in this situation, Yelü Ye had no way to defend himself.

Mo Xiuyao smiled coldly and raised his hand: “Fire!”

The surrounding Mohist soldiers nocked their arrows and drew their bows in unison. Instantly, arrows fell like rain.

“Mo Xiuyao, you go too far!” Helian Zhen roared. “Breakthrough!”

Even trapped beasts will fight, let alone humans. Though these Northern Rong soldiers were long exhausted, faced with life and death they had no choice but to fight. Their eyes reddened as they charged toward the north.

Watching the Northern Rong army’s movement, a cruel smile curved Mo Xiuyao’s lips. Feng Zhiyao waved a small black flag, and the Mohist soldiers retaliated mercilessly but left a subtle gap in the northwest direction for the Northern Rong remnants to pass through.

Mo Xiuyao’s group didn’t pursue it, instead standing calmly and watching the direction the Northern Rong remnants had fled.

“BOOM!” A massive explosion shook the air as red light suddenly shot skyward from the northwest, instantly painting half the sky crimson. Faintly, countless screams and wails of agony carried from the northwest, almost unbearable to hear.

Ye Li stood silently beside Mo Xiuyao, finally closing her eyes in distress and covering Mo Xiaobao’s ears. But Mo Xiaobao wouldn’t stay still, pulling at Ye Li’s hands. Though the screams frightened him somewhat, he understood that his father was avenging the fallen Mohist soldiers and his uncle. Children are always innocent yet cruel, seeing only absolute right and wrong. If something was right, there was no need for fear or even pity.

Feng Zhiyao silently watched the red light shooting skyward. He had also participated in that battle from over ten years ago. Though he hadn’t made it to Returning Wind Valley in time, when he and Mo Xiuyao arrived, they had still seen the tragic state of the soldiers who had died here. No, they couldn’t even be called battle deaths—they were murdered.

Like Mo Xiuyao, Feng Zhiyao had never forgotten in these nineteen years. Just as the spirits of these murdered Mohist soldiers had never rested. Until now, when two hundred thousand Northern Rong troops were sacrificed to the Mohist Army’s spirits.

May the fallen spirits finally rest in peace!