Heaven only knew where Wanyan Lie was now, or how he’d managed to get word back to Xiliang.
Only a few days later, a messenger hawk arrived from the northern border with grave news: something major was stirring within Xiliang—the King of Xiliang was mobilizing the entire nation’s forces to personally lead an eastern campaign!
By the time the news arrived, Xiliang had already mustered tens of thousands of troops along Xijing’s western frontier!
How could Akbaru City not descend into chaos?
The moment the military report arrived, the Emperor of Xijing hastily convened his civil and military officials to discuss countermeasures. In the Mingsha Hall, the discussion dragged on for a full day and night, with no news yet of any decision.
Yelu Chenyi, notably, was absent entirely, having only given a single statement to the assembled officials that day, shifting all blame onto Da Zhou and the Situ family!
He claimed that Jun Beiyue had conspired with Situ Haonan to seduce Yelu Qianqian, deliberately trying to drive a wedge between Xijing and Xiliang!
After all, very few people knew the truth about Yanzi—Yelu Chenyi’s story held up reasonably well.
At that moment, he was searching a secret passage, its entrance sealed off, only a small opening left. He’d spent a full day and night meticulously examining it, and no one knew whether he’d found anything.
What was certain was that his prior suspicions about the ruins beneath Mingsha Mountain, already strong, had only deepened now that this secret passage had turned up—there was clearly something hidden beneath the mountain.
Whatever it was, it likely explained why Mingsha Mountain’s sand was never scattered by the wind, and why the singing sound emerged whenever the northwest wind reached its peak.
Yelu Chenyi had tried to keep digging along the passage, only to find that even with the full force of his internal energy, he couldn’t break through the wall of compacted sand and earth at its end.
Reluctantly, he had to leave for now.
The moment he emerged from the passage entrance, he ran straight into Dugu Xianyun—the general who, by rights, should have been attending the council in Mingsha Hall.
“Who gave you permission to come down here!” Yelu Chenyi snapped coldly. This place was absolutely meant to be kept secret.
“Your Highness, haven’t you caused enough trouble? The Crown Prince of Xiliang has mobilized his entire nation’s forces and is about to attack! Shouldn’t you be out finding the princess instead?” Dugu Xianyun demanded coldly.
“What tone is that to take with this crown prince?” Yelu Chenyi asked, displeased, brushing the sand off himself.
Dugu Xianyun was Xijing’s grand general, the sole commander holding authority over the entire army—in a certain sense, the power in his hands actually exceeded that of Crown Prince Yelu Chenyi himself.
Of course, Yelu Chenyi’s own Wolf Fang Army wasn’t something to be trifled with either.
Only then did Dugu Xianyun step back and bow respectfully. “Your Highness, His Majesty has ordered this subordinate to escort you back.”
Though phrased as a request, the underlying meaning was clear: if Yelu Chenyi didn’t return willingly, Dugu Xianyun would use force.
Yelu Chenyi scoffed dismissively. “Go back and tell father to have those so-called three-generation veterans calm themselves. It’s far too early to deploy this crown prince’s Wolf Fang Army.”
The war between Xiliang and Xijing was already unavoidable; even Yelu Qianqian’s return could, at most, mitigate some of the damage.
What the officials in Mingsha Hall were currently debating was purely a matter of strategy.
Many senior ministers had proposed redeploying the entire Wolf Fang Army to the front lines, to defend with everything they had and prevent Xiliang from seizing even an inch of territory—a reasonable enough approach, but it would mean leaving Akbaru City undefended.
While Xijing faced external threats, that didn’t mean internal ones had vanished!
If the Wolf Fang Army marched to the front, Yelu Chenyi’s forces would have to go with them, leaving the capital empty of troops. Under such circumstances, heaven only knew what internal chaos might erupt.
History was full of similar cautionary tales—which was why many rulers would rather lose several frontier cities than risk chaos in the capital itself.
Dugu Xianyun understood this too, and yet he couldn’t help but say angrily, “Your Highness, at a time like this, you may choose not to go to the front lines—this subordinate will go in your stead—but for you to hide underground all day, this is no way for a crown prince to behave in a time of crisis!”
“Underground…” Yelu Chenyi didn’t finish the sentence, instead letting a mysterious smile curl at his lips as he said quietly, “Dugu Xianyun, remember this: this war must be dragged out—the longer, the better. Whatever it takes.”
“Your Highness! This subordinate doesn’t understand!” Dugu Xianyun said, restraining his anger.
“This is an order. You don’t need to understand it,” Yelu Chenyi said coldly, producing a military command token—one granted to him personally by the emperor. No matter how much military authority Dugu Xianyun held, he was bound to obey it.
Dugu Xianyun was a blunt, straightforward man, but an unwaveringly loyal general at heart. Seeing the command token, he immediately bowed in respect. “Yes, this subordinate obeys!”
Once he had gone, Yelu Chenyi turned to the guard beside him and asked quietly, “Has the Empress of Dongqin sent word yet?”
“She says she’ll arrive in ten days, and wishes to see Princess Zhaoxi’s body with her own eyes,” the guard reported.
“Is that so…” Yelu Chenyi laughed coldly, then turned and headed toward the outskirts of the city.
What exactly he was planning was truly impossible to guess.
Not far off, atop the city wall, Baili Weisheng watched Yelu Chenyi’s figure disappear, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully, murmuring to himself, “What’s this brat up to now?”
Muttering to himself, he glanced once more at the sand-covered secret passage, then closed his eyes, tilting his face up to feel the wind against it. No one could tell what he was sensing—only that his tone carried a note of worry. “It’s coming soon. Only a year left.”
With that, he opened his eyes, shook his head in resignation, and turned to leave.
This crisis had finally passed safely. He should go check on Xuanyuan Lige.
But when he arrived at Sha Qiuzi’s door, no matter how much he knocked, Sha Qiuzi wouldn’t open it.
“Hey, old man, open up! Where’s my person? I’m here to collect him!”
“Are you going to open the door or not? If you don’t, I’ll kick it down myself!”
…
After a long while, Sha Qiuzi’s voice finally came from inside. “What’s all the racket about! He left ages ago. This old man’s about to hibernate—I’m not opening the door.”
“Left?” Baili Weisheng froze for a moment.
“Left long ago. My hibernation time’s arrived—I chased him out ages ago,” Sha Qiuzi added.
“What!” Baili Weisheng finally snapped back to attention, shouting furiously, “Old man, wasn’t I the one who told you to keep an eye on him? And you just let him go!”
“I never agreed to any such thing! You were the one who left him here on your own!” Sha Qiuzi retorted breezily.
“Open the door!” Baili Weisheng’s voice turned grim.
“Sorry.” Sha Qiuzi showed not the slightest fear—as long as he didn’t open the door, no one could get in.
“It’s spring now, and you’re going into heat, are you? Hibernating in spring!” Baili Weisheng was so furious his face flushed red.
But Sha Qiuzi paid him no further mind.
After a long silence, Baili Weisheng suddenly spoke again, his voice utterly different from before—old, hoarse, and eerily strange, sounding like some bizarre old man. “Old fellow, I’m warning you—if you don’t open this door, I’ll poison your entire stretch of the wasteland.”
This time, Sha Qiuzi didn’t stay silent, but replied coldly, “Duku Elder, even if you poison my entire wasteland today, it won’t do you any good. See you next year!”