Chapter 41: Looking up, his messy eyes were moist…

Chapter 41: His disheveled hair framed moist eyes amidst the chaos...

The biting wind whistled across the desolate wilderness.

Disguised soldiers guarded the supply wagons, remaining on high alert. Prefect Gao's words surprised no one—they had long known of his actions. Yet they still trusted and followed their prefect.

The soldiers' gazes smoldered with fury and sorrow, glaring fiercely at those who blocked their path, especially that meddling young lord.

As he spoke, Prefect Gao's piercing gaze grew distant, lost in the memory of the day he first heard of General of the Shining Night's death—

"At the end of February, news of the General of the Shining Night's demise reached Xiangzhou. Along with it came word that His Majesty had ordered the young lord to enter a peace marriage with the enemy, with us tasked to escort him along the way. Young lord, do you know how I felt then?"

How could Lin Ye possibly know?

Prefect Gao gave a bitter chuckle.

He thought—this coddled princeling, shielded so carefully by Emperor Guangyi, hidden away from the world, was now being sent off to a humiliating political union. What did that signify?

It meant Emperor Guangyi had no intention of waging war against Northern Zhou. He would rather send his favorite brother, a man, to suffer disgrace than confront Emperor Xuanming of Northern Zhou in battle.

If Prefect Gao had held even a sliver of hope before, it vanished entirely with the death of the General of the Shining Night.

For two hundred years since the division of Great Zhou into North and South, the border troops had dreamed of nothing but marching north, reclaiming the Central Plains, and restoring the heartland. Now, with the two great battlefronts of Southern Zhou and Northern Zhou, the Sichuan-Shu region had already faltered. How much longer could the Jianghuai front hold out?

Moreover, perhaps no one but them even wanted to fight.

The noble clans, grown too comfortable to care in the wealth and safety of the south, had abandoned all thoughts of reclaiming their homeland. And now, even Emperor Guangyi acted this way—what hope could Prefect Gao possibly cling to?

Lin Ye: "Because the General of the Shining Night died, you concluded that the northern campaign was hopeless? That His Majesty no longer wished to fight?"

Prefect Gao scornfully eyed this frail, pampered brat: "Do you know who the Northern Zhou general was, the one who faced the General of the Shining Night in the final battle in Sichuan-Shu?"

Lin Ye's eyes narrowed slightly.

The fake bride, who had been pinning Dou Yan alongside another hidden guard, stiffened at these words, turning to glance at Prefect Gao.

Prefect Gao enunciated each word: "Northern Zhou's General of Cold Radiance, Yang Zeng. Before Yang Zeng was transferred to the Sichuan-Shu front, he was Northern Zhou's commanding general in Jianghuai."

The soldiers broke into murmurs—clearly, they all remembered Yang Zeng, the Northern Zhou general they had faced across the river.

Prefect Gao sneered: "What worthless scum is Yang Zeng, to have defeated the General of the Shining Night in Sichuan-Shu?!"

Pleased by the praise, Lin Ye grinned, eyes crinkling: "Heard of them, heard of them."

Prefect Gao, angered by his insincerity, grew even more furious at the thought of his own grievances—

"What kind of trash is Yang Zeng, to have defeated the General of the Shining Night in Sichuan-Shu?!"

Lin Ye's gaze drifted slightly, though the other man, consumed by rage, naturally failed to notice: "It seems the Prefect knows General Yang quite well."

How could Prefect Gao not know Yang Zeng?

Before Yang Zeng was transferred to Sichuan-Shu by Northern Zhou, Prefect Gao had clashed with him in battle for nearly a decade.

Day by day, he had watched Yang Zeng grow from a green recruit into a formidable warlord.

In all fairness, Prefect Gao respected Yang Zeng. He was a shrewd tactician, becoming more daring battle after battle. After Yang Zeng's transfer, the new general Northern Zhou sent to Jianghuai paled in comparison.

The General of the Shining Night took command at twelve; at thirteen, he slaughtered a white horse in oath to pledge his army; at fourteen, he fought at Jinzhou, routing thirty thousand troops with just ten thousand men; at sixteen, he recaptured the Great San Pass, coming one step away from retaking the western capital, Chang'an; at seventeen, he persuaded sixteen kingdoms of the Western Regions to submit to Southern Zhou and was granted the title 'General of the Shining Night.' Such achievements—surely even a pampered brat like you has heard of them?" Lin Ye looked up at the sky.

Yang Zeng was simply unlucky.

In his youth, he was too reckless, repeatedly falling into Prefect Gao's traps and nearly suffering defeat. Later, Yang Zeng learned military tactics, but his luck remained poor—whether it was fierce winds delaying his plans or supply shortages. Every opportunity slipped through his fingers.

Prefect Gao thought he had Yang Zeng’s tactics figured out.

He petitioned the court many times, requesting reinforcements to launch a northern campaign from Xiangzhou. The court kept brushing him off with empty promises, and by the time Yang Zeng was reassigned, Prefect Gao had never truly engaged the enemy in a decisive battle.

Yet, this same Yang Zeng defeated General of the Shining Night in Sichuan earlier this year.

In February, General of the Shining Night, eager to seize Fengxiang and press toward Chang’an, walked into an enemy trap. He used himself as bait, dragging Yang Zeng down with him, both perishing in Sichuan.

With both commanders dead, Northern and Southern Zhou were locked in stalemate. In court, Emperor Guangyi and the Northern Zhou envoys forged an alliance, sending the young prince away for a political marriage.

Prefect Gao said, "I know Yang Zeng well, and I exchanged letters with the General for years, discussing history and strategy—you could say we were kindred spirits despite the age gap. The General wasn’t some bookish tactician. There’s no way Yang Zeng could have lured him into a trap to die together. This reeks of conspiracy."

Lin Ye said softly, "What conspiracy?"

Prefect Gao: "Think about it—who in this world today would want the General dead the most? Certainly not Yang Zeng—it would be Emperor Guangyi."

Lin Ye replied flatly, "Absurd."

Prefect Gao, stewing in resentment: "If Emperor Guangyi always intended to arrange a marriage alliance, he needed Sichuan to lose. I refuse to believe the General died so easily. I knew his family—he wasn’t the reckless type. But what if there were traitors in his ranks? What if he was betrayed by his own men?"

Lin Ye cut in, "You’re just guessing. And because of this, you chose treason?"

Prefect Gao: "It’s not just guessing. You’ll see—in the end, His Majesty will sacrifice us all. First the General, then me. I don’t care if I die, but what about the people and soldiers behind me? The Gao family has guarded Xiangzhou for nearly a century. How can I stand by and watch my people suffer for this?"

Prefect Gao’s eyes blazed. "Sichuan must be in even worse shape now. Refugees streaming into my city say that after Sichuan’s defeat and the General’s death, their lives turned to ruin. Northern troops marched south, killing indiscriminately, raping, looting—no horror spared..."

Lin Ye’s eyes flickered.

As his face paled, the fake bride beside him suddenly spoke: "Young Prince."

The voice was clearly a man’s.

Lin Ye snapped out of his daze.

He gave a thin smile. "Nonsense. If the General was half the man you claim, even in death, he would have made arrangements for his people."

He knew the truth—he’d planned for this.

Sichuan would be chaotic for a time, but not for long. Though the General was gone, many capable officers remained. They’d never let the Northern army run wild.

Lin Ye steadied himself and smirked at Prefect Gao. "What exactly are you trying to tell me? That because the General died, you’re betraying the country? You’ve never even met him, have you? This so-called 'bond' of yours is awfully convenient—must have moved him to tears."

His smile turned cold. "That tunnel of yours—you’ve been digging it for more than half a year."

The General had only been dead for six months.

Prefect Gao hesitated.

Lin Ye: "Unless you tell me you dug that tunnel all these years just to escape the summer heat underground, and after the General died, he visited you in a dream and convinced you to commit treason..."

Prefect Gao cut off the young prince’s irreverence. "I have hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians depending on me. The court keeps delaying supplies with endless excuses. If I don’t find my own solutions, what will Xiangzhou eat? What will we drink?"

Lin Ye: "So you’d hand Xiangzhou over to Northern Zhou?"

Prefect Gao hardened his resolve.

He declared arrogantly, "Only by surviving can there be hope."

Since Zhaoye's death, his own demise was inevitable.

He did not fear death, but when he turned to look at his wife and child behind him, or walked the streets and saw the citizens, he knew Xiangzhou, as a military stronghold, would face certain siege if they did not act. There was no other possibility.

Once the young lord married the Northern Zhou princess and the alliance between the two nations was sealed, the fate of Xiangzhou...

Emperor Guangyi had only been on the throne for half a year, showing no signs of grand strategy, but Emperor Xuanming of Northern Zhou had his greedy eyes fixed on Xiangzhou. If they waited until Emperor Xuanming openly demanded Xiangzhou, they'd be like meat on his chopping block—how could Prefect Gao protect the city's people then?

Since submission and marriage alliances were inevitable, it was better to yield now.

Xiangzhou was already filled with Northern Zhou citizens trapped in Southern Zhou, unable to return home. The Chen family, who had arranged a marriage with his household, was among the most eager to return.

Prefect Gao planned to dig a tunnel and use waterways to send these people back to their homeland. Meanwhile, he had already negotiated with the new Northern Zhou general across the river—he would transport people and weapons over.

His defection would buy the city's safety.

Lin Ye snapped, "As a defending general, you discuss state affairs with a narrow mind—that's treason; as a governor, you slaughter innocent civilians dragged into this—that's tyranny; to believe the enemy's mercy can save lives—that's folly."

Prefect Gao shot back, "If I don’t trust the enemy’s promises, should I trust you instead?"

Prefect Gao raised his hand.

After wasting his breath, the young lord showed no sign of being moved, and frustration welled in him.

Prefect Gao barked, "We are both at their mercy. But you, this fish, have jumped too high and caught Emperor Xuanming’s eye. Right now, all I need is to hand you over to him, and Xiangzhou will gain another half-year of peace—move!"

Lin Ye gave the order simultaneously: "Move—"

Lin Ye’s hidden guards, arrows nocked, let loose black-fletched arrows. Prefect Gao’s soldiers roared, abandoning their supply carts and charging toward Lin Ye’s side.

Dou Yan seized the moment to act again, as did the decoy bride.

Dou Yan realized the decoy bride was a martial arts master. While another guard had already joined the fray, the decoy bride controlled her while occasionally dispatching foes—effortlessly.

Dou Yan fretted: *If I can’t break free, what about my sister...?*

Prefect Gao’s gaze met Lin Ye’s across the battlefield, past blades and warriors.

Prefect Gao's lips curled in a smirk. "My methods go beyond this. Boy, it’s better to surrender now—fewer will die."

Lin Ye echoed mockingly, "My methods also go beyond this. Prefect Gao, why not surrender now? I might let you keep your head."

--

In Xiangzhou, a flute’s haunting melody wove through.

Ming Jing sat atop the wall, a long flute in hand, disrupting the fighters' qi flow, clouding their minds.

The assassins Lin Ye had assigned her—from "Qin Yueye"—sprang into action, cutting down enemies.

Among the wanderers, the sharper ones caught on gradually. "This girl isn’t the young lord—why waste time on her?"

More understood.

Someone grabbed the pale-faced steward of the Gao household: "Where’s the Prefect? Where’s the young lord?!"

The steward quavered, "N-North of the city..."

Someone yelled, "Fall back."

Ming Jing, playing the flute on the wall, grew anxious and channeled more inner energy into the melody.

This was the Fulan Clan’s legacy. Once used to tame beasts, the "Demon Flute" had been refined over generations and could now control people. Though it required immense inner energy and its effects didn’t last long, it was still a viable strategy. Now, with a favor to ask, she had to prove to the young master that she was useful.

The Fulan Clan was *worth saving*…

Ming Jing's fingers gripping the flute turned pale from exertion. She strained herself so much that thin streaks of blood trickled from beneath her nose.

Many wanderers who had just regained their senses succumbed again to the spell of her haunting melody.

The flute’s melody grew more hypnotic, throwing countless fighters into chaos—hallucinations blurred their vision, and those who struggled awake were met with the assassins' killing blows.

The Fulan Clan was *worth allying with*…

Now, blood trickled from Ming Jing’s nose, eyes, and ears. Below, the fighters, frenzied under her influence, had their eyes glazed over, minds blank.

Though young, the "Demon Flute's" technique drained her severely. Her inner energy wavered for a moment, and those stronger than her broke free from control.

They fought through backlash to escape the assassins’ encirclement, fleeing toward the city outskirts. "Don’t waste time on this brat—go capture the young master outside the city!"

More and more broke loose. The assassins were killers by trade, but the sheer number of fleeing enemies overwhelmed them.

Ming Jing could only watch helplessly before leaping up, shouting, "Stop them! Don’t let them escape!"

One warrior below looked up, cold eyes fixed on the little girl disrupting the battle from the wall. He smirked, exchanging a look with his companion, who held off the assassins while he scaled the wall.

Looming like a mountain, he blocked Ming Jing's view.

Her flute trembled in her grip as she saw him draw his blade—his single blade split into two, their arcs weaving a storm of steel around her, leaving no escape.

"Brat, you only know cheap tricks," he sneered. "Today, you'll learn what real skill is."

Ming Jing froze.

There was no retreat behind her.

If she failed, the Fulan Clan was doomed.

The girl in red, her hair wild against a face streaked with blood, kept the faltering melody alive, lips pressed to the flute. Despair filled her gaze as the twin blades slashed toward her from both sides.

--

Clang—

A dagger struck, shattering the longsword. Mu Lang, who had ambushed from the northern woods, barely had time to boast before Xue Li's blade severed his carotid artery.

Mu Lang's eyes widened in death, despairing at how even his preparations couldn't last ten moves against Snow Girl—especially when Xue Li was hindered by traps.

Xue Li struck his corpse with a palm.

The body skidded backward, kicking up a storm of leaves. Then came a rapid clatter—the pre-set traps triggered, tangling around Mu Lang's remains.

Miao Niang paled. "Move!"

Xue Li soared through the treetops as an explosion erupted beneath Mu Lang's corpse. She danced like a weightless butterfly amid the falling branches, leaping from one to another.

After dodging the blast, Miao Niang and the others looked up to see a figure in white, pale as mist, standing amidst the smoke and flames.

Miao Niang stood stunned.

The assassins' eyes turned icy.

They saw Xue Li finally emerge from the trap formation, her hair slightly disheveled, with minor injuries on her body and some dust staining her snow-white cheeks.

The young girl gazed at them with serene, beautiful almond-shaped eyes, making them tremble.

Mu Lang...

Mu Lang's remains were completely destroyed, used by Snow Girl as a broom to sweep through the traps. Half of the mechanisms they had laid in ambush within this forest were wiped out by his corpse alone.

And even more terrifying—Xue Li had broken free.

A gust of wind passed, and the group tensed.

Miao Niang's eyes flashed with anger, thinking that if Dou Yan were here, she wouldn’t be so helpless. She and Dou Yan worked in perfect sync; together, they could control these mechanisms, and the traps wouldn’t have been half-destroyed by that worthless corpse.

Xue Li’s gaze settled on Miao Niang. "Your turn," she said.

Miao Niang turned and fled, while the other assassins lunged to block Xue Li. Miao Niang activated a mechanism: "Activate the traps—"

--

Meanwhile, in another battlefield north of the city, the conflict between Prefect Gao and Lin Ye had grown tense.

The elite guards on Lin Ye’s side were those he had brought from Sichuan, each formidable. But Prefect Gao’s forces were also seasoned warriors, equally skilled in combat.

Soldiers weren’t meant to fight in such a dark place—they had broken every rule.

As the sun gradually dimmed, Lin Ye’s side was weakening.

Prefect Gao noticed and shouted over the crowd, "Young Master, why not admit defeat?"

Lin Ye chuckled lightly. "No rush, no rush. I still have more to play."

Prefect Gao narrowed his eyes. "Are you waiting for reinforcements brought by that little guard of yours? Then save your hope—I’ve already sent men to intercept them."

Leaning against a tree, Lin Ye coughed to mask his discomfort. Hearing Prefect Gao’s taunt, his eyes glinted coldly, realizing that Prefect Gao had already seen through one of his moves: Liang Chen.

Liang Chen had left the city under the pretense of drunkenness to gather reinforcements from neighboring provinces, claiming Xiangzhou was rebelling. He carried both the young master’s token and his own.

If Ah Zeng couldn’t secure help, Liang Chen certainly could.

During today’s wedding banquet, Lin Ye’s men had spread false news that "Liang Chen has returned, is surrounded, and calls for aid." They hadn’t actually received any word from Liang Chen—Lin Ye had fabricated the message to deceive the enemy and escape the banquet to reach the tunnels.

Unexpectedly, Prefect Gao had seen through it.

The wind cut through the icy forest, carrying the metallic tang of blood.

Lin Ye felt a rare thrill—here was a worthy opponent. As expected of Gao Minglan.

From the moment of the marriage alliance, he had been making his moves. This was the first time someone had matched him step for step.

But he had to win.

He had bet it all on this gamble—his parents, ancestors watching from the underworld, the people and soldiers of Sichuan all depended on him.

He had to move forward. He had to be the victor.

--

Amid the clashes in the streets of Xiangzhou, just as those two blades were about to strike Ming Jing, a sword suddenly flew from afar, knocking the weapons aside.

A clear, youthful voice rang out: "Hey!"

Ming Jing, her hands clammy, looked up.

A lanky youth in black stood tall like bamboo on the rooftop across the wall from her. A few dark, scaly tiles clattered loose under his feet. His refined features were tinged with dusk’s golden glow.

Hands on his hips, he shouted angrily, "Got no shame? Ambushing someone—got no shame? Picking on a girl—got no shame?"

When he first spoke, he was still thirty feet away, but by the time his words fell, he had closed the distance to within ten feet.

The ambushing warrior struck at Ming Jing with a palm strike just as she was about to topple from the wall. Liang Chen caught her and pulled her back. The strike redirected toward Liang Chen, who met it with his own qi.

Both were knocked back by the force. The youth was flung onto the rooftop, blood trickling from his nose from the backlash. Wiping it away carelessly, he glared fiercely at the enemy while calling out to her:

"Don’t be afraid. With me here, they won’t touch you."

Fulan Ming Jing lay panting against the wall, her tearful, disheveled gaze glistening.

Liang... Liang... She’d only remembered this guard beside the young master had the surname Liang but couldn’t recall his full name. She’d been too busy testing the young master, never expecting Liang Chen to appear here now.

When Liang Chen, who had suddenly appeared, finally took down the warrior and rushed to Ming Jing’s side, he saw blood oozing from her eyes, nose, and ears—yet she still tried to raise her flute to play.

He grabbed her arm. "Don’t push yourself this hard!"

Ming Jing ignored him.

Liang Chen shook her hard. "You have to trust our young master! His plans don’t include suicide missions. If you die here, how will you ever see him again?"

Ming Jing’s breath faltered, and she spat out a mouthful of blood.

Seizing the chance, Liang Chen snatched the flute from her.

Seeing many wanderers had already escaped, Ming Jing grew frantic, unsure if this would disrupt Lin Ye’s plans. Tears streaked her cheeks.

Liang Chen: "..."

He froze, too awkward to look at her.

Ming Jing looked up urgently. "Y-you weren’t supposed to be here! Why did you suddenly appear?"

Liang Chen rubbed his nose. "I went to rally backup. They haven’t entered the city yet, but I got worried about the young master and came back early. Where is he?"

Ming Jing stamped her foot and burst into tears, pointing at the warriors. "They went to kill the young master! Hurry and save him!"

Liang Chen: "..."

Now he had to turn around?!

--

The sky darkened gradually.

In the northern woods, the assassins’ fight was winding down.

As twilight settled over the woods, Miao Niang found herself out of moves.

No more killers emerged. Xue Li’s spotless robes were splattered with blood—whether hers or the enemies’, it didn’t matter. Regardless, she had walked out of the half-formed formation.

Miao Niang slumped against a tree, completely spent.

She tilted her head up, icy, as Xue Li approached.

Miao Niang: "You’ve killed so many from our tower. ‘Qin Yueye’ won’t let this slide."

Xue Li: "Funny. If you had won today, it would be me saying those words—so many of you came to kill me. I’d make sure you paid."

Miao Niang fell silent.

Xue Li knelt beside her. "Where is Lin Ye?"

Miao Niang's gaze flickered, her lips curling into a sly smirk. "Oh, him... So he really is your lover. You care about him that much?"

Xue Li: "He still owes me his final payment."

Miao Niang fell silent.

Seeing no response, Xue Li placed a hand on her neck. Miao Niang’s neck went cold, and she looked up into Xue Li’s eyes, her heart sinking.

Miao Niang: "W-wait."

Facing death, Miao Niang hesitated. "I rigged this place with traps for you. I can only tell you that the young master’s side is outnumbered. If I don’t give you the right direction, you won’t easily find them."

Xue Li thought: *No matter.*

She was there to negotiate. A delay changes nothing.

Her fingers dug in, draining the color from Miao Niang’s face.

Miao Niang gasped out, "If—if I tell you where he is, will you spare my life?"

Xue Li shook her head lightly. "You tried to kill me. I will never let you go. Your only bargain is how you die—whole or in pieces."

Miao Niang pressed her lips together, anger flashing in her eyes. She wanted to die defiant, but as her bones were slowly crushed, fear won out. She wailed, "I—I’ll make a deal! I’ll tell you where he is, but you—you must swear not to harm my sister... This was all my plan. Xiao Yan isn’t here—she’s innocent!"

Tears spilled over.

Her breath was weak, but with her last ounce of strength, she clutched Xue Li’s hand, her face trembling, veins standing out. "Please—please spare my sister!"

Xue Li looked down at her.

She saw the terror in Miao Niang’s gaze, the will to survive. Yet Miao Niang was begging for Dou Yan’s life... Why?

On another battlefield in the northern woods, Prefect Gao’s hired blades arrived one after another, while Lin Ye’s reinforcements were still missing.

--

Suddenly, Prefect Gao moved like lightning.

He seized a weapon from a nearby ally and cut through the fray. Lin Ye was scanning the battlefield when Prefect Gao struck from behind—unnoticed.

The fake bride, amidst the chaos, sensed the danger to Lin Ye’s side.

In a surge of fury, his internal energy surged, his bones cracking loudly as his appearance and height began to shift... Amidst the onlookers’ cries of "The Bone-Compression Technique!", the fake bride’s limbs elongated, his face sharpening, transforming into a tall, sharp-eyed young man.

The young man shot toward Prefect Gao’s flank, but still fell short. Drawing his sword, he hurled it forward: "Lin Ye!"

Hearing "The Bone-Compression Technique" and the whistle of the blade, Prefect Gao turned, his eyes iced over as he plunged into dread—

"Yang Zeng..."

Ah Zeng flung the sword straight at him. Distracted, Prefect Gao failed to notice Lin Ye suddenly turning behind him.

The young master’s hand caught the thrown blade. His yellow sleeves fluttering, he wielded the sword with ghostly grace, closing the distance in a flash.

Ah Zeng and Lin Ye—one solid as stone, one swift as shadow.

Dou Yan screamed, "Prefect, look out!"

The longsword pierced through Prefect Gao's chest. He looked down, seeing the blade that had run him through, blood seeping from his heart. A creeping numbness spread through him.

He gaped at the young man before him—an exact double of 'Yang Zeng.'

Then, stiffly, he turned his head to see the seemingly frail and powerless Lin Ye executing a dazzling sword stroke, sleeves whirling like a crane taking flight.

What had happened to this world?

His body hit the ground with a lifeless crash.