Chapter 98: “General of the Shining Night Has Returned!”

Chapter 98: "General of the Shining Night returned!"

Xue Li's dagger clashed with Bai Li's knuckle dusters, their immense qi erupting like a tidal wave around them, sending sand and stones flying as vegetation bent and broke. Dazed, innumerable troopers and guards were flung backward.

Song Wanfeng snapped open his iron fan, somersaulting backward midair to resist the surge of energy unleashed by the duel between these two masters.

Xue Li’s consciousness briefly cleared from the influence of the Magic Flute. But the flute's melody continued, intermittent yet insistent, causing her eyes to flicker between clarity and haze. Gritting her teeth, her neck veins bulging from the strain, she gripped “Snow Inquiry” until her fingers turned pale and numb, blood seeping from her split knuckles.

Her hammering heartbeat and relentless hallucinations made every movement agony, yet she launched another attack.

Unstoppable, merciless, and lethal.

Had her opponent not been Bai Li, she might have reached Song Wanfeng. But facing Bai Li—after just a few exchanges, he leaped back two zhang, exclaiming in surprise, “Your energy is chaotic, your mind unclear. Even at your peak, you might not be my match. Why fight me in this state?”

To be fair, Bai Li had always pitied her and wished for her to join him.

“Snow Girl,” he said, “there’s much you don’t know… but you were always meant to be on our side. Yu Long trained you for Huoqiu Kingdom’s cause, not for Great Zhou. Don’t you understand yet?”

He smiled, trying to persuade her amid the chaos: “Don’t you want to see Yu Long, to find your master? Only by coming with us can you meet him. Stop resisting the Magic Flute—you can’t win…”

Through gritted teeth, Xue Li hissed deliriously. The pain was unbearable, her whispered words barely audible even to herself: “Why… can’t I resist it?”

The flute’s melody wormed into her meridians, clouding her mind again, stealing control of her body… Yet just as she slipped away, another needle from the mountain youth struck a precise point at the back of her skull, briefly restoring her senses.

Each time she regained even a sliver of clarity, she lunged wordlessly at Bai Li.

Her true target was Song Wanfeng behind him.

Song Wanfeng tracked Xue Li intently.

His gaze slowly shifted upward to the mountain—where a masked youth in haphazard, riotous attire repeatedly shot needles downward, embedding them into Xue Li’s body.

He was helping her resist the flute.

Ming En, wielding the Magic Flute, had never been fully confident. Now, he grew flustered, sweat beading on his forehead.

Suspicious eyes from Huoqiu Kingdom’s overseers fell on Ming En, while Ming Jing at the rear perked up, her eyes alight as she stole a glance toward the young man on the distant slope.

While the enemy couldn’t recognize him, Ming Jing knew it was Liang Chen. The method he used to rouse Xue Li’s consciousness was one she had taught him. As long as Liang Chen persisted, her third brother’s flute could never fully control Xue Li.

This was the perfect counter to the Magic Flute.

Ming Jing prayed Liang Chen could hold out longer. Meanwhile, Song Wanfeng, realizing the young man’s ploy, quietly ordered his warriors. Soon, assassins from “Qin Yueye” hurled grappling hooks, scaling the mountain to attack Liang Chen.

Arrows from Huoqiu Kingdom’s archers also rained upward.

Liang Chen, his face and eyes covered, darted through the foliage: “Wow, no honor among assassins, huh?”

On the Marriage Alliance Mission’s side, Ah Zeng immediately commanded, “Dispatch a team to reinforce—”

Dou Yan cut in, overriding him: “Reinforce that unidentified youth!”

For a fraction of a second, Ah Zeng and Dou Yan locked eyes before he coolly turned away, rejoining the fray.

Their attention remained fixed on Xue Li and Bai Li, their stomachs knotted for her.

In this regard, Bai Li shared their concern. The barbarian assassin yelled in disbelief, “Snow Girl, are you insane? Do you have a death wish? Keep this up, and I won’t pull punches—”

“Since when did any of you hold back?” Xue Li’s suicidal style tangled their moves into chaos. “If you mean to kill me, then do it.”

Bai Li slammed his palm against her forehead, blood dripping from her brow. The searing pain jolted Xue Li back to partial awareness from the Magic Flute's influence. Yet her heart ached fiercely, her meridians burned, and she felt her qi and blood surging wildly as if her veins were about to burst—her whole body felt ready to explode...

So what if she exploded?

She could die—it didn't matter.

But the enemy must die with her.

The truth about her master must be uncovered.

A deadly chill gathered between her brows. Streaked with blood, she stubbornly clung to that breath of life, wavering between awareness and madness as she sent Bai Li reeling momentarily. Seizing that instant, her dagger once again slashed toward Song Wanfeng—

"Clang—"

Sparks showered as Troopers and fighters collided. Coughing, Bai Li hauled himself from the boulder's crater just in time to see Xue Li soaring mid-air. After Snow Inquiry clashed with an iron fan, its wielder stumbled backward, his face sliced by wind, leaving bloody gashes.

Song Wanfeng smiled.

The stinging cuts on his face didn’t faze him. He’d always boasted mastery of wind and leaves, believing he at least surpassed Xue Li in this regard. Yet now, seeing her fight so desperately, he realized that even in lightness skills, she might one day surpass him.

So this was the Heartless Art?

She possessed unparalleled talent, and Yu Long had used the Heartless Art to unlock her limitless potential. What was lost and gained—all stemmed from the Heartless Art.

Song Wanfeng watched Xue Li calmly as he retreated, his words dripping with persuasion: "Still unwilling to admit it? Is your current state really my doing? Was I the one who drugged you? Who tormented you day after day?

"The Magic Flute's sound only affects you, only controls you. How could that possibly be my doing?"

His iron fan coiled around long leaves, shaping them into jagged teeth that slashed Xue Li's neck. The Magic Flute's notes rose like a death chant, her inner energy stagnating as she dropped like a stone, crashing into a horde of Troopers.

When she wasn't controlling them, their weapons turned against her. She rolled through the dust, scrambling like hunted game, lurching and disheveled.

Ah Zeng shouted in alarm, "Xue Li!"

He called toward the sky, "Isn't there any way to free Xue Li from that flute completely?"

High on the mountain peak, Liang Chen fought the assassins who had scaled up to attack him. Outnumbered and hard-pressed, his own situation grew precarious. Several times he tried to assist those below, only to be forced back by the assassins.

Liang Chen couldn't spare a glance.

Below, Xue Li wrestled free from the Troopers, lurching forward on shaky legs. The Magic Flute's melody wreaked havoc in her mind—she tried to rise, only to collapse again.

She heard Song Wanfeng's words. Gritting her teeth, she lifted her head. Her face was caked with dirt and blood—a sight that horrified onlookers. They had never seen Xue Li pushed to such a state.

And this... was Song Wanfeng's doing.

Across the sea of combat and slaughter, Xue Li stared blankly at Song Wanfeng.

The knife-twist of pain inside her made her think hazily—was this what Lin Ye suffered through? So this was how it felt... Then another vague thought surfaced—yes, who had brought her to this torment?

Was it truly Song Wanfeng who made the Magic Flute's influence so overpowering?

Her gaze locked onto him.

Song Wanfeng said quietly, "Since childhood, you took those monthly drugs, didn't you? She said it was to alter your constitution, to make your body different from others. Each dose left you writhing, yet you never missed a single one.

"At the end of last year, she died, and you stopped taking them. But this year... you took one final dose."

Xue Li's mind reeled. When had she taken that last dose?

Instantly, she remembered—months ago, she had told Lin Ye that something inside her felt wrong, as if something foreign had taken root within her. Because of this, she and Lin Ye had once sought Emperor Guangyi’s blood, setting off a chain of events... Yet the old physician who studied the emperor’s blood had never delivered his findings.

She’d been too preoccupied. One moment, she was assassinating Emperor Guangyi; the next, on the run; then chasing down leads in Huoqiu Kingdom. She had forgotten her own troubles—the very ones that now returned to deliver crushing devastation.

Song Wanfeng whispered softly, “Xue Li, this is the ‘Troopers Project.’”

The Magic Flute’s notes hammered at Xue Li’s heart, each thud threatening to burst it apart. And her heart—seemed already to be shattering.

Xue Li clutched her head, enduring splitting waves of pain.

HeartEater, Heartless Art, Troopers, drugs… Master, Song Wanfeng… Lin Ye, General of the Shining Night… She was the icicle clinging to the eaves, watching a spider weave its web in the corner. Over the years, countless tangled threads had formed a chaotic mess.

The direction those threads pointed made her thoughts grow clearer by the moment.

And for once, Xue Li wished she weren’t so sharp-witted.

Night pooled in her eyes as dusk settled over the world. As she lifted her face, she recalled a time when the Puppet Twins had hunted her and Lin Ye. They had said their backer had made them a promise.

Who could have convinced the reclusive Puppet Twins to come out of hiding?

Now, seeing the Troopers swarming the mountains, realizing they seemed to obey even her mind stripped of reason, Xue Li began to understand: the puppet master had to be Huoqiu’s General of the Guards. He must have promised the Puppet Twins a secret technique to control puppets, persuading the two elders to hunt her down.

And that technique—was the very drug now pulsing through her body.

Years of immersion in drugs had altered her form—her heart displaced, senses honed, mind dulled… Wasn’t this exactly what Huoqiu wanted? The leader of the Troopers?

The lethal toxin “HeartEater” in the royal bloodline of Great Zhou—it turned out to be the precursor to both the Troopers and the Heartless Art. Her master and the others had been using her as their lab rat all along. Day after day, yearning twisted into obsession. The icicle beneath the eaves, struggling to sever those threads and crawl toward the light, had become a blade turned inward.

Yu Long… Master… Song Wanfeng…

Who slipped her the drugs? Who forced her to take them? Who triggered their effects?!

What had her life even amounted to?

With a scream of rage and despair, Xue Li rose from the ground and lunged at Song Wanfeng. She moved like lightning, her gaze burning with desperation and resolve. Under such overwhelming killing intent, Song Wanfeng had nowhere to flee. Death looming before him, a glimmer of relief crossed his face.

That look made her grip on Snow Inquiry falter. At that exact moment, Bai Li struck from behind, launching a palm strike aimed at her. Forced to dodge, she had no choice but to let go of Song Wanfeng.

Xue Li and Bai Li clashed, their palms colliding with explosive force. She fought with suicidal fury, inches from killing him, veins standing out like cords. Unable to bear it any longer, he roared, “I’ve spared you again and again—don’t you see?! Fine! I’ll tell you—Yu Long is my martial sister!

“Snow Girl, you are my martial sister’s disciple! By your Central Plains customs, you should call me ‘Martial Uncle.’”

Martial siblings?

Uncle and niece?

Bai Li gazed at her tenderly—only for the girl to seize his throat in the next instant. He twisted free, striking her cheek with his knuckles. As Bai Li broke away, Xue Li was sent hurtling back like a shot bird.

Both tumbled through the air, crashing against trees once more. The Magic Flute’s notes clawed at her heart, her inner energy vanishing abruptly. Bones cracked against bark, and blood spewed from Xue Li’s mouth. She crashed into the crowd, blood streaking down her face.

Bai Li cried urgently, “Snow Girl, listen—I’m not lying. You really are one of us…”

His words left her reeling, while unbearable pain ignited a flood of emotions, draining all color from her face. Blood surged from her heart to her throat, then spilled from her eyes down her cheeks.

Behind the ranks of soldiers, Song Wanfeng scrambled to his feet; Bai Li rushed toward Xue Li; Ah Zeng, Dou Yan, and even Liang Chen, peering anxiously from above—all froze. Before them, they saw crimson tears fall from the girl’s face, splashing onto the dust below.

Her once-bright eyes now swam with blood and tears.

To this day, could she even be considered a citizen of Huoqiu? Was she an enemy—opposing the Southern Zhou?

No one had ever seen Xue Li cry, not once.

She was someone unlike any of them—her emotions far more muted, her awareness of the mortal world far slower. To drive such a girl to tears—

Ah Zeng roared, “Xue Li, calm down! Don’t listen to Bai Li, and don’t trust Song Wanfeng either!”

Bai Li laughed in anger as Ah Zeng charged at him. A fighter so weak meant nothing to Bai Li, but this reckless, moth-to-flame charge stirred confusion in his eyes, and he met it with solemnity.

Dou Yan’s fingers shook as well, her eyes burning. She didn’t know what to say, only hoarsely commanding the warriors beside her to block those troopers in their half-living state.

And Xue Li, bloodied tears streaking her face, choked out to Song Wanfeng, *“But you’re my senior brother… But you’re my senior brother…”*

Yu Long was her master.

Amidst the pain, Liang Chen amplified his voice with qi and shouted, “We don’t even know if what they’re saying is true, Xue Li! Don’t let him frighten you! Your master raised you for years—what about martial siblings, master-uncles and disciple-nieces? Wait until the young lord arrives before deciding!”

Dou Yan, struggling under the pressure of battle, tried not to get involved. But seeing Xue Li cry tugged at her heart, and she couldn’t help but add, “That’s right, Xue Li. The young lord is wise. Let’s wait for him, okay?”

Yes. What they said might not even be true.

Xue Li snapped out of her daze.

As Bai Li knocked Ah Zeng aside and came after her again, Xue Li clung to that thought and forced herself back up. She ignored the complex look Bai Li gave her, relying on this thin thread of doubt to resist the Magic Flute’s control.

Ah Zeng and the others watched Song Wanfeng anxiously, afraid he would say something else—something that would break Xue Li’s last mental foothold and destroy her completely.

Yet whether Song Wanfeng hadn’t considered this or still held some trace of conscience, he remained silent. His eyes locked on Xue Li’s battle—against both Bai Li and her own mind.

His thoughts drifted beyond the battlefield, to snow-covered peaks, to Yu Long sitting atop the mountain with her back to them, gazing into some nameless distance.

Song Wanfeng murmured, *“That’s why I’ve always needed to confirm—that the Heartless Art is still whole in you.”*

Only then would you suffer the least when betrayal came.

I love you too. But why… why wouldn’t you return to the snowy mountains? Why did you insist on staying with Lin Ye, getting dragged into this war?

This storm has snowed us in for years. And in wars between nations, even a single flake, a whisper of wind, will be crushed.

Song Wanfeng thought of Yu Long again.

Year after year, she sat atop the snowy peak—aloof and untouched by love. Her two disciples always found her there, never understanding the frost in her gaze, the snow that never melted from her eyes.

When Song Wanfeng was young, he never knew what Yu Long was looking at.

Now, he understood why her gloom never lifted. Never before had his heart been so close to his master’s. For her, he’d suffer anything.

He forced himself not to look at Xue Li, convincing himself inwardly—

*If the Magic Flute just took full hold of her, everything would be fine.*

Once this ended, he could bring back his master. Bring back Xue Li.

Under the Heartless Art, Xue Li would have no heart. Without a heart, she wouldn’t feel the worst of it. Even if Lin Ye had weakened the Art, he’d checked—she still didn’t feel emotions like ordinary people.

Just endure a while longer. Just a little more—

Endure… just endure—

At the end of the vast plain, beyond the horizon, deep within the endless night, the thunder of hooves roared closer.

Kong Laoliu had not yet arrived, but his voice rang out first, rallying his own courage: "Brothers of the Marriage Alliance, I, Kong Laoliu, have brought drifters from the jianghu to help you. It was the young lord who sought me out early—"

Ah Zeng, with several broken ribs, lay on the ground, unable to rise for a long while. At the sudden sound of that voice, he shakily gripped his sword and forced himself up, his eyes brightening with relief.

The warriors of the Marriage Alliance, driven back step by step by the Troopers, found new strength. They turned their heads and saw firelight blanketing the hills behind them as a large group of riders surged forward.

The newcomers were not many—only about a hundred—but this was all the half-believing drifters Kong Laoliu could gather.

These wanderers wouldn’t shift the battle’s course, but they could stall for time—there must be no letting the Troopers reach the battlefield and join forces with the Huoqiu army to attack Southern Zhou together.

Song Wanfeng murmured, “These drifters are only delaying the inevitable. But under the Magic Flute’s power, how long can you hold out? You cannot defeat the Troopers…”

Song Wanfeng lowered his head in thought: *Strange, where has Lin Ye gone?*

*Why have these motley crew of drifters been mobilized, yet Lin Ye himself hasn't appeared?*

A gnawing unease took root in his heart.

While Song Wanfeng stared blankly at the battlefield, Ah Zeng bled alongside the newly arrived Kong Laoliu, and Xue Li fought the Magic Flute’s grip while battling Bai Li, Liang Chen remained trapped atop the hill, burning with frustration. He wanted to help Xue Li, but he couldn’t cut down all these killers just yet. He also had to be careful not to let them see his face.

He needed another chance—to use his needles to awaken Xue Li’s consciousness and aid her against the Magic Flute.

Yet he felt helpless: Ming Jing had said this was the only way.

Originally, he had been heading to Jinzhou to find Lin Ye… But his gut churned with unease. He found it strange that the enemy hadn’t pursued him. Trusting his instincts, he turned back, abandoning his path toward Lin Ye, only to stumble into Xue Li’s path.

The method he had learned from Ming Jing happened to be exactly what she needed.

But where was Lin Ye now?

Could the young lord’s unfailing stratagems pull them through this crisis again?

--

On the southeastern battlefield of Dasanguan, which led straight to Jinzhou, the forces of the Huoqiu Kingdom finally emerged. Armored and bristling with weapons, they marched forward.

Generals Zhao and Chen led thousands of troops to meet them, but were giving ground. The Sichuan Army was still staggered by Emperor Guangyi’s death, General Kong’s fall, and suspicion cast upon them as the Lu family tried to seize control of the military... The Huoqiu’s invasion had come at the Sichuan Army’s weakest moment.

Wei Changyin commanded the battle in person.

The battlefield stretched across the open plain, winding downward. Wei Changyin stood atop a small hill, gazing at the dense masses of soldiers before him. His gaze seemed to cut through them, as if seeing the battlefield one hundred and twenty years ago when Great Zhou clashed with the Huoqiu Kingdom.

One hundred and twenty years ago, the Huoqiu had been driven back from Dasanguan, fleeing westward all the way to the desert sea.

They had not been wiped out—it was the Holy Lord’s mercy, watching over them from the shadows.

Now, one hundred and twenty years later, the Huoqiu would proclaim their resurgence from the same battlefield. This war was not even about victory—it was to make the world witness the return of the Huoqiu Kingdom.

Wei Changyin looked down contemptuously at the Sichuan Army.

After so much planning, daily drills, and strategy—what did the Sichuan Army, stripped of the General of the Shining Night, have to oppose him?

Wei Changyin gave the order: “Advance south—”

Banners flew high, war drums boomed, and the Huoqiu soldiers, drunk on vengeance and fury, surged forward: “Advance south!”

“Advance south!”

The Sichuan Army roared themselves raw: “Hold them back!”

"Fall back and you'll be treated as POWs!"

"We've got the numbers—we can't afford to lose!"

Yet this battle broke out suddenly. The Sichuan Army had lost General Kong, one of their three top generals, and in recent days, rumors that "the Emperor killed General of the Shining Night" had spread through the ranks. With troops demoralized, how could they muster the will to fight?

As the army retreated step by step, General Zhao, commanding the battle, was seeing red.

General Zhao wiped the blood from the corner of his eye, but it kept bleeding—ever since Emperor Guangyi had ordered him to stop Xue Li and he failed in the battle before the palace, he'd been losing ever since. Then came the questioning from the Lu family woman, that set him off.

What does some pampered noblewoman know about war? By what right does she seek to seize military authority?

General Zhao needed this victory, but it was slipping through his fingers. The enemy was fired up, their commanders far more capable than he... Watching them charge toward the gorge ahead, he knew that if they broke through, nothing would stand in their way.

General Chen was holding the line there, but General Zhao knew Chen was just as outmatched.

It seemed they were about to lose.

Night poured like ink across the sky, stars burst like shattered glass, spilling darkness and light along the Milky Way’s dusted frost, cascading onto the hellish battlefield below.

"BOOM—"

The banners of the Sichuan Army rose. Below the gorge, the forces of Huoqiu Kingdom were struck by an avalanche of rocks, forced to retreat. Boulders rained from the heights, crushing many Huoqiu soldiers before they could flee. Wei Changyin, observing the battle, shot to his feet, staring at the cliffs.

Earlier, they had been empty—but now—

A line of Southern Zhou soldiers on horseback appeared at the cliff’s edge, gazing down at the chaos below. At their head rode a figure in black cloak and white robes, his sleeves fluttering, his bearing carved from jade, his presence radiant.

Across the ridge, Wei Changyin fixed his gaze on that figure.

He knew him.

Many knew him—

They watched as the young lord gave a knowing smile at them, then slowly extended a hand to his companion, who passed him something. The young lord placed it over his face.

The young general’s robes billowed in the wind as he reined in his horse at the cliff’s edge. Wildfires licked the night, stars tumbling like rain.

In this hellish battlefield, only the Suanni beast could strike fear across the armies.

Below, silence fell like death.

Silence, too, gripped the mountains.

The howling wind carried falling stars as cries of exultation and terror rose from the ranks—not just from the Sichuan Army, but from Huoqiu’s forces as well.

Wei Changyin stared at the figure, his gaze darkening—

"General of the Shining Night!"

"General of the Shining Night has returned!"

"General of the Shining Night is alive!"

"We're saved!"