Xiao Chiye woke up.
He had slept with both arms tucked under his head until they were numb. Opening his eyes, he stared at the tent canopy for a while, feeling as though he had dreamed of the torrential rain in Qudu.
Lu Guangbai lifted the tent flap and entered, wiping the damp sweat from his neck with a cloth at the doorway. He said, “The hawks on patrol spotted falcons in the eastern area. Gujin found traces of horse teams passing there—it’s the transport convoy from the Hulubu Tribe.” He tossed the cloth back into the copper basin to rinse it. “Amur refuses to surrender. He’s preparing for a last stand.”
Xiao Chiye rolled over and sat up, one knee bent with an arm draped over it. He said, “Winter is close. The Hulubu Tribe can’t graze sheep anymore. This is their last supply of grain.”
“Amur insists on staying hidden because he’s conserving his strength. He saw through your plan to wait for the rabbit at the stump.” Lu Guangbai hung the cloth aside. “He’s stalling for time.”
To support Hasen, the Hulubu Tribe had exhausted the strength of the entire clan. The grain now being sent to Amur was their people’s own winter rations. If they wanted to survive the harsh winter, they would have to slaughter their livestock. Amur was already an arrow at the end of its flight—what exactly was he still waiting for?
The tent flaps were rolled upward. Xiao Chiye stood and ducked outside. He gazed across the endless dunes. Meng swooped down from the flagpole and landed on the raised arm of Xiao Chiye.
“Amur is a good general,” Xiao Chiye said. “But he’s even more of a politician.”
Amur excelled at containment. Opening battlefields in both north and south and creating the black and white Scorpions were all methods to restrain his enemies more effectively. He was old now and could no longer charge through battlefields like Hasen, but that did not mean he was helpless against Xiao Chiye. His situation was already collapsing. The only way to force Xiao Chiye to retreat was to first crush Xiao Chiye’s support—Shen Zechuan.
Xiao Chiye’s gaze sharpened as he turned to Lu Guangbai and said, “He’s waiting for news from Qudu.”
The instant Dantai Hu shouted, it was like stabbing a hornet’s nest. Before he could dodge, a curved blade flashed out and sliced off his topknot. His black hair scattered with a swish, leaving a huge chunk missing in the middle—he had nearly been shaved bald.
“Son of a bitch!” Dantai Hu grabbed the severed hair. “The real traitorous dogs colluding with outsiders are right here!”
Rain flew with the arcs of blades. Countless soldiers slammed together shoulder-to-shoulder inside the passageway, armor grinding against armor as they struggled forward with all their strength. Very few of the miscellaneous troops carried curved sabers—they were too conspicuous. Most had hidden spikes at their waists beside their regular blades.
“The city gates are broken,” Shen Zechuan decided immediately, snapping his folding fan shut. “Tell Shenwei—there are borderland men hidden inside Qudu. Whether we want to enter or not, we have to go in now.”
Fei Sheng did not dare delay. Throwing aside the arrow, he vaulted back onto his horse and pointed toward the rear while shouting to his subordinates, “Transmit the Prefect Lord’s command—!”
Cen Yu and the students had not yet returned inside Qudu when they saw riders galloping ahead. The messenger charged into camp and shouted toward the command tent, “Borderland cavalry are hidden inside Qudu! Tens of thousands of lives hang by a thread—Gao Zhongxiong, receive orders!”
Gao Zhongxiong abruptly shoved aside the scattered papers. He seized his brush, dipped it into ink amid the pounding rain, and calmed his breathing.
“Heaven favors the Prefect Lord.” Yao Wenyu coughed by the window, supporting himself as he wheezed lightly. He said to Gao Zhongxiong, “Qudu’s actions are no different from self-destruction. Today Shen Wei’s title as traitor to the nation can finally yield to another. Shenwei, the Prefect Lord wants you to tell the world—the internal enemy lies in Qudu.”
The appearance of the Scorpions was too perfect, just like Shao Chengbi’s reckless deployment of troops earlier. It gave Shen Zechuan all the justification he needed. The defense army could not slaughter civilians after entering the city, and suppressing tens of thousands of miscellaneous troops would have been extremely difficult. But once those miscellaneous troops became Scorpions, they became foreign enemies!
“When foreign enemies stand before the gates and the nation’s borders are broken, a rightful ruler rides forth—this is Heaven’s mandate!” Yao Wenyu covered his mouth, coughing several times before forcing out a laugh while leaning against the bed. “Once a piece enters the political game, it no longer belongs to itself. The Grand Tutor was remarkable. We’ve firmly caught Fengquan’s regicide blade.” He lifted his damp eyes toward the rain and said hoarsely, “Xue Xiuzhuo has lost!”
Xue Xiuzhuo had won one round in the storm. He killed Qi Huilian, drove away Yao Wenyu, and forced Hai Liangyi to death. Yet he too had been restrained by his own chess pieces. Lu Guangbai rebelled, Xiao Chiye returned to his people, Shen Zechuan secured Zhongbo. All his supposedly flawless calculations were an illusion—he had driven himself into a dead end. He exhausted himself hunting for the Scorpions, only to discover the Scorpion had always been beside him.
Qi Huilian had once capsized in the gutter, but Fengquan failed to understand: truly intelligent men never make the same mistake twice. The Crown Prince had fallen because of traitors, so Qi Huilian would never allow Shen Zechuan to fall to an insider. Among all the former Eastern Palace retainers, why had Qi Huilian specifically chosen the Shao and Qiao families?
Because he felt too guilty.
Compared to the others who had devoted themselves entirely to the Eastern Palace from beginning to end, Shao Chengbi was the “dead knot.” He had served in the Ministry of War and done no evil, but he had allowed personal feelings to interfere with duty. To protect the Qiao family, he compromised himself, yet Qiao Kanghai still died. He betrayed the Eastern Palace’s old master, yet failed to save anyone—not even his own son. And that was only the beginning. The moment the Zhongbo Defeat Case erupted, Shao Chengbi drew a prison around himself, becoming an eternal captive to the words “conscience.”
This blood debt outweighed all of Shao Chengbi’s personal ties. For it, he could gouge out his own eyes, ruin his own throat with medicine, even hand over his son. He knelt before Buddha statues and wept, yet Qi Huilian would not use him.
This was both Qi Huilian’s cruelest and most brilliant move.
While alive, the Grand Tutor never used Shao Chengbi. After his death, every passing day only deepened the pain of the “useless” Shao Chengbi. That pain and guilt lashed Shao Chengbi onward, and through him lashed Fengquan as well. Fengquan gasped for breath in the cracks between identities. No matter whose chess piece he truly was, Qi Huilian dared to place his shackles upon the single word “father.” Shao Chengbi was Fengquan’s chain, whether in life or death. When Fengquan bid farewell to Shao Chengbi, the razor had already rested against Shao Chengbi’s throat, yet Fengquan could not strike.
Xue Xiuzhuo treated people as chess pieces. Qi Huilian treated chess pieces as people. In Zhaozui Temple, he taught Shen Zechuan the art of balancing power, and every weakness revolved around the word “emotion.”
Shen Zechuan opened his eyes and saw the end of the eastern gate.
Rain and snow hung like curtains, blurring the old scenery.
Qi Huilian’s figure seemed still to stand there, arms raised high, chains rattling as he shouted to the heavens one last time without ever turning back to look at Shen Zechuan.
Lanzhou.
Do not be afraid.
Shen Zechuan closed his eyes, then opened them again. Fengta Shuangyi suddenly surged forward. His sleeves billowed beneath the assault of frost and snow, stirring fierce winds on both sides. He was like a cold blade about to return to its sheath within storm clouds, destined at this moment to pierce through heaven and earth.
He who possesses the Way acts with Heaven’s mandate!
Thunder exploded overhead as though against the scalp itself. Luo Mu had completely lost control over the miscellaneous troops. Retreating in panic amid the chaos, he shouted to the court officials, “…The army has mutinied!”
Rain and snow blurred all sight. Xue Xiuzhuo could barely stand steady. Together with the assembled ministers, he stood atop the walls and watched Shen Zechuan charge ahead on horseback. The defense army’s morale surged as they followed the white-clad figure, unstoppable. The Imperial Army entering through the southern gate met the capital troops inside the city. They knew Qudu’s alleyways better than the capital forces themselves; in street fighting, they were unmatched.
Blood splattered across walls. Tavern banners and market stalls rolled through the streets along with the slaughter.
Shen Zechuan rode into the passageway exactly as he had intended—from the front, forcing open Qudu’s gates. Beside him, Fei Sheng raised the Zhongbo banner high while the defense army braved the rain of arrows and crossed into the city one after another.
“The city has fallen—!” A shrill cry rang from before the Imperial Academy gates. Then thousands of students burst into collective sobbing amid the flying ice shards.
Kong Qiu staggered forward, clutching the battlements as he wept. “A hundred years of Great Zhou’s mandate…”
The bronze bell atop Bodhi Mountain rang out with a thunderous clang. Its long echoes stirred the winds, startling birds from the layered clouds. The city gates crashed down. Countless proclamations whirled through the air.
Xue Xiuzhuo’s cheeks were cold and wet. He lifted his head toward the dark clouds. The burdens that had pressed upon his shoulders for so long vanished together with the collapsing gates. Raising a hand, he wiped the rain from his face and heard weeping rise from all directions.
It was over.
Xue Xiuzhuo’s eyes resembled a dead, silent pool. Without a word, he cast away his waist token. The token engraved with the golden glory of the Li dynasty fell to the ground and was crushed beneath passing hooves, broken apart in the mud.
Dantai Hu braced against the curved saber, forcing his opponent backward in stumbling retreat. Suddenly he swung his blade sideways. The edge scraped along the curved saber and sliced off the opponent’s fingers. Kicking the man over, Dantai Hu hacked open a bloody path for Shen Zechuan and roared himself hoarse:
“Kill the enemy!”
Qiao Tianya’s sword edge rested against his fingertip. Rain still fell outside the hall, but the wind had stopped. The white curtains all drooped to the ground, and tiny gleams reflected in the puddles at his feet.
Fengquan lifted a finger and extinguished the final lamp. Firelight brushed his sleeve as he said, “You became Shen Zechuan’s blade to kill me.”
A lock of hair fell over Qiao Tianya’s eyes.
Fengquan did not know whether he was crying or laughing. Hidden in the darkness, his shoulders trembled as he lightly clapped his hands.
Water dripped from Qiao Tianya’s hair onto the bridge of his nose with soft plinks. His sword left its sheath in a flash of fury, steel colliding with a sharp clang as it knocked away the iron needles flying toward him.
An official in robes stood behind the white curtains and lifted a hand to remove the hat from his head. Only Fengquan’s eerie chuckling echoed through Mingli Hall. The official had appeared without a sound, ghostlike, meeting Qiao Tianya’s gaze through the hanging veils.
Water droplets fell with tiny pats.
Qiao Tianya moved like a leopard exploding with rage, springing upward. All his unwillingness and anguish transformed into the edge of his sword as he slashed apart the curtains and drove the official backward.
The official hid blades within narrow sleeves. With a flick of his fingers, several silver threads shot out. As Qiao Tianya dodged, they nailed themselves into the vermilion pillars. Immediately afterward, the official leapt and flipped through the air, body light as a swallow as he used the silver threads for support.
Lamp oil spread across the floor. Flames licked the wooden boards and chased after Fengquan’s sleeves as they caught fire.
Even though the defense army was not killing civilians, the civilians themselves were fleeing in every direction amid the chaos. The streets were utter madness. Dantai Hu shoved people aside, terrified that the Scorpions would take advantage of the confusion.
“Disperse the civilians!” Dantai Hu’s palms were slick with blood, making his blade hard to grip.
But it was too late. The civilians clogging the streets crashed into the Scorpions’ formation. The night was too dark for anyone to distinguish friend from foe. The Scorpions slashed people down with curved sabers, lifting severed heads while shouting in fluent Great Zhou speech, “The Prefect Lord orders the slaughter of all Qudu!”
Fei Sheng rode with torches raised high, shouting as he galloped, “Borderland baldies have infiltrated the city! Luo Mu’s miscellaneous troops are rebels! If you don’t want to die, run!”
But amid the panic, the civilians could not hear Fei Sheng’s voice. Terrified crowds pressed against the Scorpions, and after seeing people die, turned and surged toward the defense army instead. The avenue was far too narrow. Overturned battering rams blocked the rear. The defense army’s formation was thrown into chaos by the crush of people.
The Scorpions wore no armor. Hidden among the fleeing civilians, they suddenly struck with concealed spikes as they passed the defense soldiers. More than a dozen men at the front fell instantly before they could react.
“The Zhongbo rebels are killing people!”
The civilians fleeing for their lives covered their faces and sobbed. Trapped with nowhere to go, they mistook the Scorpions for the defense army amid the overlapping shadows and believed they had already been surrounded. Cries filled the heavens.
Troublesome!
Fei Sheng wheeled his horse around and returned to Shen Zechuan’s side. “Master, what do we do now? Several main roads are completely blocked!”
Night had fully fallen. Burning banners blazed overhead, while the rain lessened and the snow drifted like floating catkins.
Holding the reins, Shen Zechuan looked toward the city walls and said, “Light the watchtowers. Seize the gates and sound the alarm bells. Tell the Imperial Army that breached the southern gate to clear the street entrances.”
The defense soldiers quickly advanced on both sides. Very few arrows remained atop the battlements, and fighting raged everywhere below in close quarters. Torches from the defense army suddenly illuminated the city, making control of the watchtowers critically important.
Shen Zechuan carried a short blade on him. As his horse passed through the crowd, a sharp wind suddenly sliced from the side. He dodged instantly. A spiked weapon flashed past his cheek with a whoosh, the lingering chill of its wind brushing against his skin.
The short blade shot from its sheath, spinning through Shen Zechuan’s left hand with a bang as it knocked the spike aside. But his injuries had not healed. The strike only knocked the spike off course. The Scorpion immediately released the weapon, grabbed it again mid-fall in reverse grip, and thrust it horizontally toward Shen Zechuan’s throat.