“Jiu’er, you’ve come.”

Zhao Yusheng looked up, stood, and walked over to greet her.

“How is it? Is Jian Yi doing a bit better?”

Feng Jiu’er walked over and sat down outside the low table Zhao Yusheng had just been using. She picked up a teacup, poured herself a cup of tea, and drank it in one go.

“He’s fine for now. It would be best if Chen Hong could be dealt with quickly.”

“By the way, how is the battle going?”

Zhao Yusheng returned to his seat and pulled the map on the table toward himself.

“This is the current distribution of our troops. The red marks are roughly where the enemy forces are.”

He pointed at a spot and continued, “The fighting here hasn’t stopped since it started.”

“The green areas are the territory we’ve taken.”

“The Third Column isn’t doing well. Brother Gang reported they’ve already been forced to retreat several li.”

“As for the Fifth Column—” Zhao Yusheng explained the situation in great detail, and Feng Jiu’er listened attentively.

Once she had gone over the entire battle situation, she put on her armor and left the camp.

On a pitch-black, windy night, at the edge of a cliff on a certain mountain, a tall figure stood at a spot exposed to the wind.

The summer wind was strong, blowing through his dark hair.

Under the moonlight, one could make out his face, half-covered by a mask.

He wore night-travel clothes and carried a black cloth sack in his hand, his eyes fixed on the darkness in the distance.

A fierce, natural air of violence surrounded him; the wind that passed over him seemed to turn to frost.

Chen Hong stood behind him, looking at her prize, rubbing her fingers together with an amused expression.

“Is everything settled?”

The man in black turned and casually tossed the sack toward her.

“To avoid drawing attention, it took a few extra days. My apologies.”

His voice was low, carrying a trace of aloof indifference toward everything else.

It sounded almost like he was asking for her understanding, yet also as though he were merely stating a fact.

Chen Hong caught the sack, opened it, and pulled up the long hair inside.

Beneath the hair was an intact severed head.

But since the person had been dead for several days, the smell was rather strong.

She forced down her rising nausea, pushed the hair aside, and took a look.

“Ugh!”

Chen Hong casually put the thing back and pulled the sack shut.

She tossed it behind her and said flatly, “Have someone send this to the First Prince.”

“Yes.”

The person behind her took the head and turned to leave.

Suddenly, a cold gust of wind swept past.

Chen Hong stepped back, only to feel her outstretched hand gently taken by someone.

The man took her hand, leapt up from the cliff edge, and landed steadily beside a waterfall below.

He took her hand, still dirtied from before, and held it under the flowing water.

Droplets fell onto their joined hands, splashing into glittering beads.

The man’s slender fingers opened the woman’s palm, his thumb gently rubbing the center of her hand.

The gentle gesture stirred something within Chen Hong’s heart, like ripples spreading outward.

She stared at him without blinking, the smile at the corners of her mouth deepening.

“Such a handsome man.”

Chen Hong reached out with her other hand and touched the man’s chin.

His mask covered only half his face, leaving the left side—his nose and chin—exposed.

Anyone who knew Jian Yi would recognize that this was indeed Jian Yi’s face.

Chen Hong had been watching Jian Yi for so long; she certainly wouldn’t fail to recognize him.

Suddenly, she gave his left cheek a light pinch, her expression growing even more pleased.

“From now on, you’re mine. I won’t treat you badly!”

A moment ago, she had only wanted to confirm whether he was wearing a human-skin mask.

With such a handsome man beside her, even if he was merely a puppet under her control, Chen Hong didn’t mind at all.

She wrapped one arm around his waist and rested her head against his chest.

No one saw it, but in the instant he drew close, the color of the man’s eyes shifted.

But it passed quickly, and his gaze returned to its usual hollow emptiness.