The sky was dark and heavy, wind and rain ready to fall.
Xiao Chiye laid down the Wolf Fury Blade at the palace gates and stepped into the dim, long corridor. Eunuchs knelt silently on either side; inside the Mingli Hall, no voice disturbed the stillness. Fu Man hurried him to the door and lifted the curtain. The drapes of the bedchamber remained drawn aside; inside, the air was stifling and tinged with the metallic scent of blood.
Fu Man sobbed quietly, whispering, “Your Majesty… look, my lord has arrived!”
Inside, Li Jianheng gave a faint hum and said, “Tell them all to leave. I have words for my lord; until the Grand Secretariat arrives, do not disturb us.”
Fu Man and the attendants withdrew quietly.
“Ce’an,” Li Jianheng seemed to shift slightly, “pull back the drapes.”
Xiao Chiye raised his hand and drew the curtains. Bloodstains mottled the bed; Li Jianheng lay as if soaked in filth, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.
“Brother,” Li Jianheng’s pale face was streaked with tears and sweat. His trembling hands wiped at his brow, smearing blood across his own face. “Why did you go? You frightened me half to death.”
Mu Ru lay beside Li Jianheng, already dead.
A sudden loneliness washed over Xiao Chiye. He had come to this trap knowingly, merely to leave Li Jianheng with a single word—“brother.” Their youthful, reckless bond had been shattered under the weight of power, yet somehow, in this instant, it seemed patched together. He felt transported back to the past. Pulling the drapes, he said in a hoarse voice, “The wind’s strong on the road, and Shenwu Street is crowded; it’s not good for riding fast.”
Li Jianheng lifted the hand covering his wound, looking at the stabbed area. “You are a true brother—knowing this was dangerous, yet you came. To have a friend like you, I, Li Jianheng, am not unworthy.”
Xiao Chiye dragged over a chair and sat. His throat rolled several times before he spoke: “I told you before—she is not your match.”
“But I like her,” Li Jianheng murmured, squeezing blood between his fingers. “I thought she liked me too. Damn… getting stabbed hurts this much.”
Xiao Chiye rubbed his face, propped his knees, and asked, “You called me. What do you want to say?”
Li Jianheng rolled his eyes through tears, gave a shaky laugh, then sobbed, choking, “I called you, and you came. Are you insane, Ce’an? Do you know out there… out there, they are all waiting with blades?”
Xiao Chiye nodded calmly, “I know.”
Li Jianheng stifled his cries. “If you hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have had to say sorry.”
Xiao Chiye’s eyes reddened. “You are the emperor. An emperor doesn’t apologize.”
Li Jianheng clutched his wound, shaking uncontrollably. He sobbed, “I… brother… I truly want to be a good emperor. A few days ago I carried the books—you went out, tell the Grand Secretariat for me.”
“You are the emperor. Speak for yourself,” Xiao Chiye replied.
Li Jianheng gasped, hoarse and tearful, “No, I am the emperor. I can’t go myself—it would be humiliating. He is loyal; how could I… why am I so foolish? I truly… truly wanted to call him Father Ya. I was afraid… afraid that after I die, someone else would be stabbed too.”
Xiao Chiye’s voice hoarse: “How can one with such little courage walk forward?”
Li Jianheng gestured, “My elder brother waits for me. I am afraid he’ll scold me again. I wronged him.”
Xiao Chiye scoffed, “Is that all you have?”
“I…” Li Jianheng’s breath quickened. His dry lips pressed together. “I also wronged you—lacked loyalty. You and I are both not masters of our fate. I… I truly hate this. Ce’an, go. Once you leave, ride off. I have nothing to give you, but if I don’t give, it’s disrespectful.”
Xiao Chiye rubbed his face again.
Li Jianheng raised a finger, pointing at the wall, voice faint, “That… that bow—you helped me get it from my elder brother, but damn it, I can’t draw it… you take it. Wolf Cub must remain on the… the plains. Your ring should be rusted.”
Xiao Chiye said coldly, “I won’t. That is your tyrant bow.”
“You are the tyrant…” Li Jianheng’s voice had faded. He gazed at the bow. “Next life… don’t… let me come again… I want to be Yan of Da Zhou… live under wealthy eaves…”
He quietly stared at the tyrant bow, unmoving.
The wind stirred the chamber drapes. Xiao Chiye sat as the distant thunder rumbled, unleashing a torrential downpour.
Han Cheng finished the last sip of tea, stepped out, and saw the Eight Battalions arrayed, ready. He threw down the tea bowl, shouting, “Qudu’s Forbidden Guards number only eight thousand. Without news reaching Fengshan Drill Ground, no reinforcements can come. Xiao Chiye is a trapped beast. Today, we must capture him!”
Rain pounded. Dense footsteps encircled the palace. Sheaths scraped armor as the Eight Battalions set a heavy siege outside the bedchamber. Fu Man could barely stand. Eunuchs shrank into corners, fearing the knives.
Xiao Chiye finally rose, lowered the drapes for Li Jianheng, and turned to lift the hundred-pound tyrant bow. The palace doors were already open. Pushing aside the flapping drapes, he strode into the rain without looking back.
Han Cheng drew his sword. He said nothing; victory was theirs. In the pouring rain, they would change the world, force Xiao Chiye to kneel once more.
Xiao Chiye faced the mass of black-clad soldiers. He stepped forward along the long stairs. Weaponless, as rain washed away his coldness, he collided with the crowd. The tyrant bow blocked blades; he pushed back the human tide, pressing forward through the storm.
Shen Zechuan rode across the street. Behind him, the Embroidered Guards and Forbidden Guards, like red serpents, burst through the palace gates toward the inner court.
The entire palace was now surrounded; the clash of arms deafening. Horses surged, accelerating the battle. Lang Taoxue, disregarding the human tide, charged straight at Xiao Chiye. In the instant gap, Xiao Chiye mounted a horse, catching the Wolf Fury Blade thrown by Shen Zechuan.
Xiao Chiye drew his sword abruptly: “Qudu is not my dreamland. Today I return home! Whoever stands in my way—die!”
Spurring the horse, he slashed.
Rain lashed him as he carved a bloody path. The battle spread from palace to streets. Han Cheng saw the danger and shouted, “Defend the gates! This traitor against the emperor must not escape tonight!”
The Eight Battalions were no match; though numerous, fear drove them backward. The city gates were closed. Shen Zechuan scaled the wall, kicked aside defenders, and forced the gates open. Beyond lay Xiao Chiye’s long-awaited home.
Han Cheng turned, shouting, “Seize him!”
Xiao Chiye had ridden out. He signaled Ding Tao to bring the two thousand Forbidden Guards along. Spinning among the crowd, he opened his arms to Shen Zechuan atop the wall. “Lanzhou, come with me!”
But the Embroidered Guards stood firm. Shen Zechuan, against the rain, held the wall, eyes fixed on Xiao Chiye as if to memorize him.
The Eight Battalions surged again, about to exit the gate. The massive city doors groaned under their weight, chains clanging.
“Ce’an,” Shen Zechuan called through the rain, gently, “go home.”
Xiao Chiye, as if doused in cold water, clenched the reins and spurred back. The gate slammed, blocking the Eight Battalions, and securing Xiao Chiye outside.
He shouted hoarsely, as an enraged beast: “Shen Lanzhou!”
Shen Zechuan no longer looked at Xiao Chiye, turning instead to Han Cheng and the dense battalion ranks.
Han Cheng spat and sneered, “Shen Zechuan, you ruin my plan!”
“Do you dare call yourself Embroidered Guard?” Shen Zechuan towered over him, voice icy. “Since Ji Wufan, the Embroidered Guards were heroes of honor. Today you plot against the emperor—Han Cheng, I have every right to kill you!”
Han Cheng laughed, “Who are you? A leftover of the Shen clan? I treated you well, promoted you! And this is how you repay me? Come! Drag him up—let Shen Tongzhi see!”
Qi Huilian was dragged out, disheveled, landing in the rain, cursing: “Dog traitor, deceitful!”
Han Cheng rode forward, chains in hand, dragging Qi Huilian through the streets. Pointing at him to Shen Zechuan, “Have you searched long? Here he is! Shen Zechuan, come claim him!”
“Dog traitor! Dog traitor!” Qi Huilian roared, covered in mud.
Han Cheng looked at Shen Zechuan’s pale face, then at his dark gaze. “Your elder brother, the heir of Jianxing, I remember being dragged to death by Bian Sha cavalry. You felt nothing. Now it’s your teacher—does it hurt?”
“Han Cheng!” Shen Zechuan ground the words between his teeth. “You went to great lengths to hold my teacher. What do you want?”
“Originally for great use!” Han Cheng’s expression changed sharply. “But you let Xiao Chiye go, ruined my plan. He is no longer useful, and neither are you! If you still want his life, kneel, beg forgiveness! Shout ‘Father’ three times—I spare him and you!”
Shen Zechuan stepped forward: “Agreed.”
“Nonsense!” Qi Huilian lifted his head from the mud, wiped filth, stood, glaring at Shen Zechuan. “I taught you letters and strategy, not to let others humiliate you! Qi Huilian kneels to no one—how can you kneel to a lowly man?!”
Chains clanged.
Qi Huilian stumbled, yelling in the rain: “A century’s glory is like a dream… I am free! I have lived in wealth and power, tasted fame and fortune, I—” Laughing wildly, clutching the chain around his neck, “I laugh at all heroes! Who can match me? I triumphed thrice in Yuzhou! I laughed before emperors, pointed at rivers and mountains, Han Cheng, where are you? Still in the gutter!”
Qi Huilian, drenched, like a drunken man.
“You vermin are not fit to carry my shoes! The great houses, like the world, are sinking… Tell Hai Liangyi, Da Zhou is mortally ill; neither he nor I can save it!” Laughing madly, he spat at Han Cheng. “But I will not yield! This life, I serve only as imperial tutor! Lanzhou, the cage is broken. Chaos is coming. I’ve taught you all I can. This rotten heaven, this rotten earth…”
Turning his back on Shen Zechuan, Qi Huilian choked, rain-soaked, yet unable to quench the burning passion of years. He had always called for the crown prince, yet now he could not bear to glance at Shen Zechuan.
“This rotten heaven, this rotten earth—turn it over, forge your own world. Lanzhou, go, don’t look back. I bear these forty thousand wronged souls for you. Do not fear—you—” Blood sprayed into the rain as he fell back, murmuring, “Do not fear…”
Thunder roared. Shen Zechuan fell to his knees, powerless, letting the rain batter him. In the long silence, all pretense shattered; for the first time in six years, a scream of despair erupted. His eyes, bloodshot, devoid of reason, seized Yang Shanxue and drew his sword.
“Han Cheng—!”
He despised the world and its faces.
Shen Zechuan rose, Yang Shanxue slicing through the rain, scattering blood in the chaos. He killed one, then another, stepping over corpses, like an abandoned beast. Blades sliced throats at lightning speed; blood sprayed across his face like tears.
Han Cheng retreated repeatedly, shouting: “Kill him!”
A raindrop split mid-air. An arrow shot past, nearly striking Han Cheng. Xiao Chiye leapt from the wall via the chain, kicking and stabbing the attacker. He charged through the blade-lit chaos, hands soaked in blood.
Xiao Chiye dragged Shen Zechuan back with one arm, blew a whistle. With a sudden leap, he struck at Han Cheng’s right eye amidst the chaos. Han Cheng recoiled, hearing horse hooves outside; Ding Tao had arrived with reinforcements.
“Break the gates!” Ding Tao shouted hoarsely.
The Forbidden Guards surged. Before acting, they heard the gates groan again, slowly hoisted open.
Fei Sheng, dragging chains, gasped, retreating with the Embroidered Guards. Cursing, he shouted, “Damn it! So heavy, dog! My lord—mount and run!”
Lang Taoxue thundered through the gap, cries of battle drowning out Qudu.
The border garrison also fought desperately. Lu Guangbai could hardly lift his spear, retreating: “Where are the reinforcements?!”
The deputy general, wounded by several strikes, gasped, “No… none have come.”
Rain roared. Lu Guangbai looked back at the camp.
Xiao Chiye had mounted, Shen Zechuan pressed before him, charging through the downpour toward the city gates.
Lightning and thunder ripped the sky open, rain fell unrelenting.
Lu Guangbai tore off his tattered cloak, planting the spear at his feet. Amid wind and storm, he said, “I cannot fight anymore.”
The deputy general lay on the sand slope, watching him.
“Fate has me guarding here all my life, yet this is not the path I chose.” Lu Guangbai removed his armor bearing Da Zhou’s seal, wiping his weathered face, eyes full of sorrow, faintly self-mocking. “Yellow sand buried my comrades. I refuse to bow to empty fate. Imperial edicts cannot save my soldiers. The court cannot feed my horses.”
Xiao Chiye had already ridden out of Qudu, countless pursuers behind him. They charged forward like tearing through the blackened storm.
“I will no longer serve this command.”
Lu Guangbai closed his eyes, blood dripping from his fingers into the yellow sand. When he opened them, his gaze was somber.
Shen Zechuan’s blood-washed face emitted grief-choked sobs. In this desperate flight, all obedience was cast aside. They were like sharpened swords, cutting through the deluge.
Lu Guangbai washed his hands in rain, gripping the spear anew.
They were prisoners chased by fate, once willing to wear shackles. But the storm tore the building apart, the collapse crashing like floodwaters.
Forward! Forward!
“I will climb that mountain.”
“I will fight for myself!”
—Volume One · End—