The princess of Xumo’er led the remnants of their tribe, who had stayed behind in the Hucha Sea, back to their camp to rest in peace.
They absolutely did not believe that the army of the Great Xu Dynasty could figure out the location of their camp.
To those Central Plains people, the Hucha Sea was a death desert; even standing at the Guifeng Pass made their legs tremble.
Before their young king, Ru Zilin, left the western border and led his men to prepare for infiltrating the capital, he had grabbed his younger sister’s clothes and repeatedly instructed her: fight while retreating, always remain vigilant, and change camps at least twice a day. Under no circumstances should they stay in the same place for two consecutive nights.
At first, the princess strictly followed her brother’s instructions, diligently moving the camp every day. But over time, as they enjoyed a peaceful and carefree life in the Hucha Sea without any signs of action from Li Fuxiang, they began to test the waters.
One day without moving camp—nothing happened.
Two days without moving camp—everything was quiet.
Seven days without moving camp—the world seemed utterly peaceful.
They slept soundly at night.
Li Fuxiang, having identified their camp’s location, returned with his 1,000-strong Xiaoqi camp. Under the cover of the yellow sands, they silently surrounded the enemy’s camp.
Tonight, there was no moon.
At dawn, the coldest time of day, Li Fuxiang removed the wolf pelt draped over his shoulders. Clad in only a single layer of clothing, he stood firm in the fierce wind and raised his military banner. On it, there was neither the character for “Zheng” nor “Li,” but rather a crookedly drawn “Mie” (annihilation) that he had hastily scribbled himself before leaving the city.
Zhan Ji looked up at the character and clicked his tongue.
Ji Wei elbowed him. “What are you thinking about?”
Zhan Ji, bold enough to speak his mind even in front of Li Fuxiang, said, “Just saying, if our princess consort wrote it, wouldn’t that be much more impressive?”
Several soldiers from the elite cavalry camp in the front row lowered their heads and stifled laughter.
Li Fuxiang glanced up at the banner and said, “Alright, when we return to the capital, I’ll have your princess consort write eight or ten of them and hang them all on the city walls. Let them see and shiver with fear.”
Their loud laughter finally woke the people in the camp.
The sentries of Xumo’er, who were supposed to be on guard, jolted awake from their dreams. Pulling back the tent flap, they looked out.
The God of Death had arrived.
The Xiaoqi saw the camp stirring.
Li Fuxiang led his soldiers forward on horseback, their blades cutting through the air. Where the blade tip passed, blood splattered, soaring like a crimson ribbon unfurling high into the sky.
Taking care of a group of remnants should take no longer than the time it takes to burn an incense stick. Any longer, and it would be an insult to Li Fuxiang.
The Xumo’er princess, still in her nightclothes, had just emerged from her tent when she stumbled into the flashing blades and swords of the elite cavalry. Before she could react, someone had seized her, pressing a blade against her neck.
The princess’s eyes widened in terror.
Li Fuxiang’s horse trotted over.
Ji Wei asked, “My lord, Xumo’er has been completely captured by our forces.”
Li Fuxiang let out a faint “Mm” and said, “For those willing to surrender, have them carve marks on their faces themselves. Reward them with shackles and bring them back to the capital to await further orders.”
As soon as the words fell, several of the captured Xumo’er soldiers bit their tongues and committed suicide on the spot.
Li Fuxiang remained expressionless. “Of course, for those unwilling to be captured, grant them a swift death.”
Before long, the ground was strewn with disordered corpses.
The princess was still paralyzed with fear, unsure how Li Fuxiang would deal with her.
Li Fuxiang dismounted, looked down at her, and asked, “Do you want to carve a mark on your face?”
The princess shook her head decisively.
Li Fuxiang continued, “Do you want to live?”
The princess hesitated. Naturally, she did.
Li Fuxiang stroked his horse, Shenwu, and said, “Today, everyone in Xumo’er has a chance to live, except for you.”
Ji Wei and Zhan Ji stepped forward, staring at Li Fuxiang in astonishment.
Since joining the army, they had always prided themselves on being a righteous force, and killing women was certainly not part of their tradition.
Li Fuxiang said, “Perhaps they are innocent, or perhaps they had no choice, but you are the commander, the one who led the battle. I will take your head back. After all, your brother is still in our royal capital. You can reunite with him in the capital you’ve been longing for.”
Ji Wei, somewhat flustered, stepped forward to try to dissuade him.
Li Fuxiang seemed to anticipate what he was going to say and cut him off. “There’s no need to persuade me.”
Lowering his voice, Ji Wei said, “My lord, you must consider how future generations will judge you.”
Li Fuxiang replied, “Let them say whatever they wish.”
Seeing the blood-stained blade about to touch her neck, the princess finally panicked and shouted, “Since taking over the camp, I have not killed any of your people! You can’t kill me!”
Li Fuxiang retorted, “That’s because you’re incompetent, not because you’re merciful.”
Ji Wei exclaimed, “Your Highness!”
Li Fuxiang flicked his wrist, effortlessly shaking off Ji Wei. Without hesitation, he swung his blade. The Xumo’er princess’s head fell, and in the cold desert dawn, the blood spilled was a vivid, fiery red.
Everyone fell silent.
There was a square box strapped to Li Fuxiang’s horse, newly added when they left the city yesterday.
Initially, the soldiers thought it was for carrying provisions. During moments of thirst and hunger, Li Fuxiang had pulled out dried meat from the box to share with them, and they assumed it was for food storage.
Now it was clear how naive they had been.
That box was the perfect size to hold a human head.
Li Fuxiang had already made up his mind—on this journey, he would claim the head of Xumo’er’s commander.
—
Meanwhile, in a merchant caravan disguised by Xumo’er:
Ru Zilin, resting in an inn, suddenly felt a violent upheaval in his chest. He struggled to breathe, his breath choked with an unexplainable sense of dread, waking him abruptly.
He touched the icy cold dagger at his waist, a gift from his sister that he had always carried close to him.
Ru Zilin thought of his sister.
Although she was born in the barren and rugged Xumo’er tribe, she had a delicate temperament since childhood. Ru Zilin had always indulged his sister to the utmost, sheltering her so she could live like a fragile yet beautiful little bird.
In the past, they often heard about how fertile the land of the Xu Dynasty was, how enchanting its mountains, rivers, and lakes were, and how the capital city was like a paradise on earth.
They had never taken such stories seriously, dismissing them as mere legends, until that year during the Lantern Festival in the twelfth lunar month, when they witnessed the grandeur and beauty of the capital with their own eyes.
Not only did his sister fall in love with it, but he himself was deeply captivated.
He thought, his delicate sister should not grow up in the barren sands. She deserved to live like those noble yet naïve girls, in the capital city where food and clothing were never a concern.
He had already marked the capital as his own and was determined to take it.
As the sky brightened further, one of Xumo’er’s subordinates came to report: “Master, we should get moving.”
Ru Zilin draped his clothes over himself and said, “We should reach it in half a day, correct?”
The subordinate replied, “Yes, the arrangements in the capital have been completed to ensure you can enter the imperial palace unimpeded.”
Ru Zilin fingered the dagger at his waist and said, “No rush. I’ve heard that the Princess Consort of Xiang currently resides in the Haitang Palace outside the capital. The Prince of Xiang is a good friend of ours. He’s a formidable hero, and the capital is his home. If I silently take over his home, he will certainly not let it go. A battle is inevitable in the future. Let’s visit his consort first.”
Ru Zilin didn’t think of himself as a king born of sand bandits.
His people were rough, wild, and always direct in their speech and actions—traits he had never liked since childhood.
He preferred subtlety.
It was said that this was the habit and style of the Xu Dynasty.
He thought, perhaps he was destined to become the master of the capital.
He was merely coming to claim what was rightfully his.
That day, Xumo’er’s men cast off their disguises, mounted swift horses, and rode directly toward the Haitang Palace at the base of the Lushu Mountain.
Crossing that mountain and capturing the Princess Consort of Xiang would bring the capital within reach.
In Haitang Palace, a scout reported, “They’ve entered the mountain.”
Gao Yuexing nodded. “Good.”
Lushu Mountain was a natural barrier. If it could once trap Zhao Tongsheng, it could certainly trap Xumo’er as well.
Gao Yuexing’s skill in using poison far surpassed that of Kong Shishu.
The morning miasma enhanced the efficacy of her poison powder. Let them enjoy a beautiful dream in the mountain. Gao Yuexing was quite eager to see what Xumo’er was truly capable of.
From the break of dawn, Gao Yuexing waited until dusk. A scout came to report again: Xumo’er had lost a considerable number of people in the mountain and had barely escaped, utterly exhausted.
It had taken seven hours.
“How many days was Zhao Tongsheng trapped inside back then?”
Gao Yuexing’s eyes lowered slightly.
Zhao Tongsheng felt his face flush red with embarrassment. At the same time, he thought to himself that Xumo’er, formidable as they were, truly deserved to be considered a worthy opponent.
Ru Zilin, though inwardly fuming with rage, maintained a polite demeanor on the surface. He had already calculated that the Haitang Palace was likely well-prepared for their arrival. Yet, his anger and untamed wild nature were completely ignited.
What he hated most was the injustice of the heavens.
His feral instincts drove him to capture the Princess Consort of Xiang and to make her and her husband suffer a fate worse than death.
The horse-tripping ropes that Gao Yuexing had laid along the mountain paths proved ineffective. For someone as battle-hardened as Ru Zilin, such tricks were mere child’s play.
From afar, they spotted the Haitang Palace perched on the mountainside. Shrouded in the night, they charged down toward it.
Meanwhile, the Prince of Xiang returned to the capital with the severed head of Xumo’er’s princess. His first order upon arrival was for the Zheng brothers to muster the troops and prepare to return to the capital as reinforcements.
That single word—reinforcements—confirmed that something had changed in the capital.
No one dared delay.
Zheng Xiao remained in Xiang City to guard the critical and vulnerable choke point.
Li Fuxiang led his elite cavalry camp to advance ahead of the main force.
The rest of the army, led by the Zheng brothers, followed the usual march schedule back to the capital.
The elite cavalry moved at double the speed of the regular army.
At the relay station, Li Fuxiang changed horses without pause. He didn’t even have time to tend to his little red horse, entrusting it to the Zheng brothers to bring back. He pressed on, traveling day and night.
His urgency was written all over his face.
Meanwhile, Xumo’er’s forces stormed the gates of Haitang Palace. They broke through the doors effortlessly.
The night had fully descended.
Inside, it was eerily quiet. The abnormal stillness suggested a trap.
Ru Zilin raised his vigilance to the highest level as he stepped into the courtyard.
Skirting around the screen wall, he came face-to-face with a long corridor adorned with vermilion archways.
Step by step, stair by stair, he ascended. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly, like a winding mountain path with no visible end.
The night concealed all.
Ru Zilin gripped his blade tightly and climbed the corridor for half an hour, yet he still couldn’t find an exit.
Suddenly, he realized something was amiss.
The Haitang Palace was built at the foot of the mountain, with flat terrain as far as the eye could see. Where could such a seemingly unending staircase come from? If he continued climbing, he might as well ascend to the heavens.
Li Fuxiang’s carefully laid array was something Ru Zilin had never encountered before.
With a loud shout, Ru Zilin drew his blade and struck out. Kicking at one of the steps with the tip of his boot, his foot hit nothing but air.
There were no real steps—just flat ground.
“Dark arts! The sorcery of the Central Plains people!”
Zhao Tongsheng lay prone on the rooftop with a bow in hand, commanding, “He’s realized it. Don’t give him a chance—release the arrows!”
Unfortunately, the front courtyard of Haitang Palace was built too narrow, its confined layout providing little room. While the arrows were accurate, the enemy could quickly dash into their blind spots.
Ru Zilin and his men forced open the doors to the first courtyard and finally escaped the rain of arrows.
By now, many of Xumo’er’s men were injured.
In his fury, Ru Zilin kicked apart the doors and windows, but he dared not recklessly charge out. Stepping outside would only expose them once more to the range of the archers, leaving them constrained and vulnerable.