Ding Wenfu noticed that Gao Yuexing had been gone for a long time, and feeling uneasy, he was about to send someone to search for her when Gao Yuexing appeared alone, coming from the direction of the covered corridor. As soon as Ding Wenfu approached her, Gao Yuexing handed him a piece of paper and only said four words: “Arrange defense as mapped.”
Ding Wenfu suspiciously lowered his head to look.
What seemed like an indecipherable puzzle to Gao Yuexing was crystal clear to Ding Wenfu.
Moreover, the handwriting on the map was unique across the entire Daxu Dynasty and unmistakably belonged to Li Fuxiang.
Ding Wenfu was overjoyed. “Was this sent back by His Highness Prince Xiang?”
Gao Yuexing shook her head. “It was left behind when this Haitang Palace was first built.”
The map had been tucked inside a military manual.
Ding Wenfu knew that Gao Yuexing would not casually look through such things unless there was some pressing matter beyond her ability to handle.
The map left behind had become Gao Yuexing’s trump card.
Ding Wenfu quickly assembled his men and had them arrange the defenses according to the map. By evening, just as the remnants of the setting sun disappeared behind the Lushu Mountains, Xumo’er indeed made his move again.
This time, they brought arrows.
After the disruption of the previous night, Ru Zilin had taken the opportunity to familiarize himself with the terrain around Haitang Palace. From across the river where Gao Yuexing was hiding, using arrows became the most time-efficient, labor-saving, and foolproof strategy.
However, when his forces reached the gates of Haitang Palace, they discovered that Gao Yuexing’s strategy had also changed.
Ding Wenfu had his men form ranks at the entrance, making it impossible for them to even breach the main gate.
The surrounding area within several li of Haitang Palace had been cleared of all vegetation that could provide cover. The space was utterly bare, leaving no room for any movement to go unnoticed.
Even if Xumo’er wanted to change direction and sneak in quietly, it was no longer feasible.
The dramatically different tactical approach made him realize that the people inside might not be simple. He assumed it was the newly arrived Ding Wenfu.
But he didn’t take it seriously.
After all, Ding Wenfu had only brought a few dozen men, and they were all eunuchs—frail and barely capable of wielding a blade, hardly even considered men. What was there to fear? Ru Zilin was confident that the men of his tribe could fight ten of them single-handedly. He was determined to take the woman in Haitang Palace and refused to retreat.
The moonlight tonight was splendid.
The fighting broke out outside.
Gao Yuexing sat in the courtyard, her surroundings utterly serene, with only two people standing guard nearby, never leaving her side. She felt entirely at ease. The wind came from the west, and she seemed to catch a faint whiff of that desolate and decayed scent of sand from the northwest. That must have been brought back by Li Fuxiang.
On the journey to the capital, Ru Zilin had received no battle reports from the western front.
That was because Li Fuxiang had swiftly dealt with the troops Ru Zilin had left behind in the western frontier and immediately mobilized his forces to march back to the capital without delay.
No message could rival the speed of Li Fuxiang’s elite cavalry unit.
In just a few days, Li Fuxiang had traversed the entire east-west expanse of the Great Xu Dynasty. When he attacked from behind, he directly tore their formation in half, using blood to mark the boundary.
Ru Zilin hastily turned back to confront him.
Li Fuxiang’s Shenwu blade swept down, met by Ru Zilin’s twin knives. His arms sank under the force, sparks flying before his eyes. Staring at the figure before him, Ru Zilin almost failed to recognize him at first glance.
The world knew of the young general Li Fuxiang as a man of extraordinary appearance—his face like jade, his demeanor as upright as a pine tree, and his delicate, handsome features enough to captivate the hearts of noble daughters. Such praise had even reached Xumo’er.
But now, after days of relentless travel, the once-pristine Li Fuxiang looked vastly different. His unkempt hair was casually tied with a cloth strip, his jaw was shadowed with stubble that hadn’t been shaved for days, and even his usually clear and bright eyes seemed shrouded in a gray, heavy haze. Without speaking, he stared intently at one person, the murderous intent in his gaze chilling to the bone.
The three thousand elite cavalrymen of his Xiaoqi Camp moved with seamless coordination, dividing into four groups that encircled Xumo’er’s forces like a net. They tightened their formation gradually, strangling their enemy.
Ru Zilin retreated a short distance and asked, “Why are you here in the capital? Have you abandoned Xiang City?”
He still clung to the delusion that his sister was a valuable asset.
Li Fuxiang rested his blade casually in front of him and replied, “You left your sister with seven thousand troops, thinking Hucha Sea was your protective shield, and that backed by Guifeng Pass, I could do nothing against you.”
Ru Zilin said, “You drove them back.”
Li Fuxiang corrected, “I killed them.”
Ru Zilin was in disbelief.
With a single swing, Li Fuxiang cut the rope hanging from his horse’s flank. A square box tumbled to the ground. Li Fuxiang’s horse lifted a hoof and kicked it over to Ru Zilin.
A human head rolled out.
The dried blood had obscured the features somewhat, but the long black hair and the bright red hemp rope tied at the braid’s end, holding a unique golden bell, were unmistakable.
Ru Zilin let out a scream and lunged forward, clutching the severed head tightly.
By now, Xiaoqi Camp had slaughtered all his subordinates.
This battle was a complete victory for Li Fuxiang.
To Li Fuxiang, however, victory was neither something to celebrate nor a matter of pride. He wasn’t even willing to waste more words with Ru Zilin, nor did he bother to kill him personally. He simply gave the order: “Kill.”
Countless spears from the Xiaoqi Camp thrust toward Ru Zilin.
Ru Zilin rolled on the ground in a pathetic attempt to dodge, only to see Li Fuxiang toss the reins of his horse and ride off into the distance.
Ru Zilin had regarded Li Fuxiang as an opponent, but at the moment of determining victory, Li Fuxiang didn’t even deem him worthy of a glance.
Even as he fought like a cornered beast, Ru Zilin could not believe that despite all his supposed advantages, he had been utterly defeated. In the end, the spears of the Xiaoqi Camp pierced through his body in every direction. He died clutching his sister’s severed head tightly, his lifeless eyes fixed on the vast, star-filled night sky of the Great Xu Dynasty, refusing to close even in death.
Gao Yuexing sat in the courtyard.
She heard the sounds of slaughter outside cease.
A figure emerged from the charred, ruined hall in the courtyard.
Though the figure was distant and the night so dark that she couldn’t see clearly, Gao Yuexing instantly recognized the person walking toward her.
The Nine-Bend Bridge spanning the river had been destroyed, its planks floating on the water, offering no stable footing. Yet Li Fuxiang crossed it as if walking on solid ground, carefully watching his steps. Occasionally, he would make a light jump, leaping over the obstacles in his path.
Gao Yuexing fixed her gaze on the figure, watching him until he stood before her, revealing a face weathered by the elements.
He raised a hand as if to touch her face, but noticing the dirt and blood covering his hand, he hesitated. Retracting his hand midway, he rubbed it twice on his own sleeve, both front and back.
Gao Yuexing could no longer hold back. She reached out, cupped his face, and gently stroked his rough stubble. Using her own handkerchief, she carefully wiped his face clean.
The gloom in Li Fuxiang’s eyes gradually dissipated.
Gao Yuexing softly called, “Your Highness.”
With the dust settled, a heavy burden in her heart was finally lifted. She felt as light as a feather.
Li Fuxiang murmured, “Ah Xing—”
He pressed his now-clean face against Gao Yuexing’s cheek.
Behind them, Ding Wenfu and the cavalrymen of the Xiaoqi Camp, who had hurried over to report back, were all crowded together on the bridge in the distance. None dared to approach and disturb them. Packed tightly together, the bridge’s load-bearing capacity was pushed to its limit. After a few ominous creaks, the structure gave way with a loud crack, collapsing entirely, and everyone on the bridge tumbled into the water like dumplings.
Those on the shore scrambled to fish them out.
Taking advantage of the commotion, Li Fuxiang scooped Gao Yuexing into his arms and slipped away along the covered corridor.
The hot springs in the palace were prepared for Li Fuxiang to bathe.
Gao Yuexing waited outside the folding screen, urging him, “Hurry up and wash. Once you’re done, let’s head back to the capital and see what’s going on there.”
Li Fuxiang, reluctant to cut short their time together, grumbled, “The Emperor and Commander Zheng are bringing troops from behind. They’ll take care of it.”
The route back to the capital from the western frontier happened to pass by the imperial tombs.
On the way, Li Fuxiang really did run into the Emperor. But he didn’t stop. The official road was narrow, and his Xiaoqi Camp lined up in single file to squeeze past on the side. As they passed, the Emperor, still mounted on his horse, got a face full of sand from Li Fuxiang’s horse’s hooves. Squinting through the dust, he thought the figure looked familiar but wasn’t entirely sure. Turning to Zheng Qianye for confirmation, Zheng Qianye silently nodded. The Emperor immediately burst into a string of curses.
“That scoundrel! Passing his old father on the road without stopping. What insolence!”
Even for him, this was outrageous.
That had been half a day ago.
Even if Li Fuxiang had taken a bath and rested for half a day at Haitang Palace, he was still faster than the Emperor’s progress.
By midnight, the two of them, along with the Xiaoqi Camp, were galloping back toward the capital. From a distance, they could see that the city gates were in turmoil.
Thousands of refugees knelt at the gates, begging for entry.
Prince Xin had held his ground all day, adhering strictly to the Emperor’s command to guard the gates. Even at the cost of being cursed and reviled, he refused to open them.
From atop the city walls, Prince Xin spotted a flag in the distance and hurriedly ordered someone to confirm whether it was the Emperor and Commander Zheng returning with their troops.
The sentry strained his neck to get a clear view, then nervously reported, “The writing on the flag is crooked and illegible. It’s neither the Emperor’s nor Commander Zheng’s.”
Prince Xin’s heart tightened, and he immediately ordered crossbows to be mounted, ready to fire at any moment.
But Xi Heng squinted and stopped them, saying, “Wait a minute. That handwriting looks familiar.”
The cavalry of the Xiaoqi Camp surged forward like a whirlwind. As they drew closer, Prince Xin finally recognized that it was their own Great Xu Dynasty troops—Li Fuxiang had returned. The flag bore the single character “灭” (destruction), a word he had never seen used before, likely something Li Fuxiang had decided to change himself. Just from looking at it, the meaning was clear enough.
As Gao Yuexing and Li Fuxiang approached the city, they could hear the loud, spirited curses of the crowd and the soft sobbing of women with children. The Xiaoqi Camp, carrying torches, formed a circle around the refugees.
After listening for a while, Li Fuxiang understood the situation.
Prince Xin shouted from the city wall, “Brother Xiang, what do you think we should do?”
Li Fuxiang replied decisively, shouting back, “Bring silver banknotes!”
Prince Xin asked, “How much do you need?”
Li Fuxiang replied, “As much as you’ve got.”
Although puzzled, Prince Xin complied. Soon, they brought out an entire chest filled with banknotes, each worth a hundred taels.
Li Fuxiang ordered, “Scatter them.”
The banknotes fluttered down from the city walls like a snowstorm.
One of the refugees caught a note and, in disbelief, exclaimed, “Two hundred taels! Two hundred taels of silver!”
Immediately, the refugees kneeling on the ground sprang to their feet, chasing and scrambling to snatch the falling banknotes.
Amidst the chaos, however, there were some who remained motionless, looking around blankly, their hands hesitating in midair as if unsure of what to do.
Li Fuxiang drew his blade and bellowed furiously, “Refusing money? Either you’re stupid or you’re guilty! Arrest everyone who isn’t picking up the money for interrogation!”
Prince Xin, watching from the city wall, was utterly stunned. It was an eye-opening scene.
Some of those who didn’t pick up the money revealed daggers and tried to resist, exposing their true colors. Perhaps some innocent people were caught by mistake, and maybe some culprits slipped through, but that no longer mattered—further investigations would sort it out.
The city gates were opened.
Li Fuxiang shouted upward, “Clean up this mess and prepare to welcome His Majesty back to the capital!”