“Second,” Feng Jiu’er continued.

“Qiao Mu already told you—if you die, even if your parents survive after a fashion, whatever time they have left won’t be happy.”

“And more than that, you know exactly what Lei Shenbao’s methods are like—anyone of no further use to him gets discarded.”

“Right now, Steward Yang is getting old. The one with value to Lei Shenbao is you, not your father anymore.”

“And I’ve told you—I will try to find a way to save your parents. Even without a guarantee of success, I will still try.”

“Third,” Feng Jiu’er said, glancing at Qiao Mu.

“Qiao Mu saving you was a pure accident.”

“That night, she’d had quite a bit to drink—saving you was just a coincidence, understand?”

“So there’s no need for you to keep dwelling on it out of some sense of obligation either.”

“I already said I had no idea I’d even saved anyone.” Qiao Mu raised an eyebrow.

“However you choose, choose for yourself—don’t drag me into it.”

“That said, when there’s a path to survival and you insist on walking a road to death instead—dragging seven thousand brothers to their graves with you—Yang Sheng, you can’t really be that foolish, can you?”

“By the way, our Sect Master has already sent word to Lei Shenbao—if he agrees to negotiate peace, we’ll consider releasing the prisoners.”

“Tsk, tsk…” Qiao Mu shook her head. “Don’t pin too much hope on Lei Shenbao either.”

“Not wanting war is, frankly, just Jiu’er’s own wishful thinking.”

“If Lei Shenbao refuses to compromise, our Sect Master will still march in.”

“And if you want to blame someone, blame Lei Shenbao—he’s always been so utterly ruthless in everything he does, hardly the type anyone could work with.”

Qiao Mu’s mouth had gone dry from all the talking. She stood, poured herself a cup of tea, sat back down, and sipped it.

When she looked up again, Yang Sheng was still watching her. Qiao Mu’s brow creased slightly. “Yang Sheng, just because I called you foolish, does that mean you actually have to be foolish?”

“When have I, Qiao Mu, ever wasted this much breath on someone? I’m not exactly a beauty beyond compare, am I? At best, passable!”

“True.” Feng Jiu’er’s lips curved slightly upward, and she nodded. “Whatever Qiao Mu said tonight could probably cover her usual quota for half a month.”

She closed the book in her hands and looked at Yang Sheng.

“Yang Sheng, that secret you mentioned, the one not meant to be spoken of—it’s also the truth we believe.”

“Feng Qiongcang is no good man. The Night Prince’s constant tolerance has only made him more arrogant. We have to do something for the Night Prince’s sake.”

“Honestly, there are seven thousand troops out there, true—but Lei Shenbao’s men certainly wouldn’t sit easy with me either.”

“Today, if Qiao Mu hadn’t told me you were among the prisoners, I wouldn’t have spent so much time on this either.”

“Yang Sheng, you’re a good man, and a man of talent.”

“How you decide, in the end, is up to you to weigh for yourself.”

Feng Jiu’er tossed out her final words and raised her eyes toward the curtain outside the tent.

“Xing Zichou, are you out there? Come in and take Yang Sheng back.”

“Sure,” Xing Zichou’s voice came from outside. He lifted the curtain and stepped in.

“Jiu’er, my internal energy’s grown again—I made sure to adjust my breathing and walk without a sound, and you still caught me.”

“If you want Jiu’er to teach you inner-energy techniques, just say so!” Qiao Mu rolled her eyes at Xing Zichou. “Why all the flattery?”

“Right.” Xing Zichou said with a smile, looking around at everyone. “It’s been so long since I sparred with Jiu’er—I really miss it!”

“Wait a while—there’ll be a chance.” Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together. “Take Yang Sheng back, no need to chain him.”

“And send some steamed buns to the prisoners too—they’ve been hungry all day.”

“Jiu’er, giving the prisoners food?” Xing Zichou frowned, somewhat puzzled.

“Mm.” Feng Jiu’er nodded. “Since the letter’s already been sent in, one more night won’t make a difference.”

“Yang Sheng, go back and listen to what the others think. I’ve done what I can do—the important decisions, I can’t make on my own.”

“But I can guarantee one thing—your life will be spared.”

Yang Sheng withdrew his gaze, looked at Feng Jiu’er, and bowed his head deeply.

“I want to join Dragon Shadow. Now.”

He wasn’t afraid of death, but only among these people did he feel happy, only here did he feel his life had value. A person’s life shouldn’t be about mere survival—he wanted to live a life that meant something.

Yang Sheng took a deep breath and stood.

“If I can convince the others to surrender, would I have earned the right to join Dragon Shadow?”

“Yes.” Feng Jiu’er answered without hesitation. “But I won’t force anyone—only keep those you can genuinely persuade.”

“Yang Sheng, I believe you can do this well.”

“Thank you!” Yang Sheng cupped his hands toward Feng Jiu’er, then toward Jian Yi, and turned to leave.

Xing Zichou glanced at Feng Jiu’er; she nodded once, and he turned to follow Yang Sheng out.

This was exactly the outcome Feng Jiu’er had hoped for. Even Qiao Mu, watching Yang Sheng leave, let out a small breath of relief.

“That guy—so single-minded! Convincing him really wasn’t easy!”

“You did it!” Feng Jiu’er gave her a smile.

“Me?” Qiao Mu met her gaze, raising an eyebrow. “What did I do?”

“Plenty.” Feng Jiu’er smiled again and turned away.

“This isn’t the time to hand out credit. Come help me look through these letters instead.”

“They’re all news from the brothers and from Sister Hua’s side—not sure if we can find any trace of my father.”

“Alright.” Qiao Mu stood, moved to Feng Jiu’er’s other side, and sat down.

The tent fell quiet, with only the rustle of pages and letters being turned.

Early the next morning, Xing Zichou brought Yang Sheng and three other prisoners to the entrance of Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu’s tent.

“Jian Yi, is Jiu’er awake?” Xing Zichou glanced at Jian Yi.

Jian Yi said nothing—instead, Feng Jiu’er’s voice carried out from within. “Xing Zichou, wait a moment, I’m coming out.”

“Alright,” Xing Zichou said with a nod in response.

When Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu came out, besides Yang Sheng, they saw three new faces as well.

“Yang Sheng, they are…?” Feng Jiu’er looked at the three tall, formidable men, their internal energy clearly no weaker than average.

“Jiu’er, they’re guard commanders,” Yang Sheng said, turning to point at one of the three men.

“This one leads the Third Squad, this one the Seventh, and this one the Eleventh.”

“Nearly all seven thousand of our brothers are under their command. They’re willing to surrender and follow Dragon Shadow from now on.”

“All seven thousand—every one of them submitted?” Feng Jiu’er found it hard to believe her own ears.

This was a pleasant surprise—and one that had come faster than expected!

Before Yang Sheng could say more, Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu each took one of his arms and pulled him along, drawing him close to the tent.

The three commanders watching exchanged looks of surprise. Yang Sheng had told them that Dragon Shadow’s leaders were all easygoing, with no distance kept between brothers. But were these two women really this easygoing too?

Clearly, both were women of formidable martial skill—one of them, they’d heard and even witnessed, could transform into a phoenix. They had no doubt of it.

And yet, here they were—so unguarded, so warm.