"I can't believe Deng Qinyao traded the Heavenly Tomb formation for military strength," Murong Jin said, setting down the letter. "Xue Feiyan's power is now far greater than we imagined."
Xue Liulan stood by the window, staring out.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
"How did tens of thousands of soldiers cross the border? You spent years on the frontier. Any ideas?"
She thought for a moment. "The merchant caravans. There's a great deal of trade. The caravans are large, sometimes hundreds of men." Outside, a caravan bell jingled faintly in the distance—a haunting echo of her thought.
"So they disguised themselves," he mused. "Good. As long as they could bribe the guards, the passes wouldn't matter."
"Or a local official issued them," she said, a cool smile on her lips. "Money makes ghosts turn millstones, after all."
The dynasty was rotting. Even with the will to fight, it felt like a losing battle.
They stood in silence, both searching for a strategy. The enemy was within their borders, but they had no idea where.
"The only way," Xue Liulan said suddenly, "is to capture the king."
"Your plan?"
"Fight fire with fire," he said with a confident smile.
She thought for a moment. "Difficult. Look at this terrain. No one would find this place unless they were looking."
"Then we'll go into the city first."
At dusk, the hunter's wife came stumbling down the path, collapsing at the gate. Murong Jin, sitting in the courtyard, rushed to her side. The woman was covered in blood.
"Auntie Liu, what happened?" she asked, helping the woman up. "You were going to visit relatives."
"The… Yanyun… soldiers…" the woman stammered.
Xue Liulan was already halfway to the gate when his expression changed. "Murong Jin, get her inside."
"What?"
He jerked his head toward the path, his hand on his sword.
She understood. She half-dragged the woman inside and laid her on the bed. She turned for medicine, but the woman grabbed her hand.
"Please… save… my husband."
"Alright, we will," Murong Jin promised, feeding her a pill. "Rest now."
Xue Liulan stood alone at the gate, watching as a dozen Yanyun soldiers charged toward him, spears leveled.
"Who are you?" the leader yelled.
Xue Liulan smiled. "Who are you?"
"You dare question me? Get out of my way, pretty boy."
"Pretty boy?" Xue Liulan's eye twitched. "How uncivilized."
The leader raised his hand. "Get him."
The spears lunged. Strangely, Xue Liulan didn't move.
Murong Jin's hand tightened, her eyes fixed on him, her soft sword half-drawn.
He raised his own sword, almost lazily. With a single, elegant arc, the blade sliced the spearheads clean from their shafts. With a flick of his wrist, his sword was back at his side. He hadn't moved an inch.
The setting sun illuminated the terror on the leader's face.
"Who… who are you?" The soldiers stumbled back, clutching their useless shafts.
Xue Liulan didn't answer. He started walking toward them, slow and deliberate. "Xue Liulan," he said calmly. "The Fifth Prince of the Dynasty."
As the words left his lips, he leaped. His sword was a blur. The Yanyun soldiers could only watch in horror.
He sheathed his sword and turned, his dark hair settling on his shoulders.
The fifteen soldiers stood frozen, a strange, cold feeling at their throats. Blood seeped from their necks. They hadn't even felt the cut.
They collapsed. Murong Jin let out a breath, her hand on her hilt slick with sweat.
"Is she alright?" he asked, returning to her side.
She nodded. "I'll get us some uniforms."
"Not yet. Let's see to her."
They went to the bedside. The woman was barely breathing.
"Auntie Liu?" Murong Jin asked.
The woman's lips moved, a desperate whisper. "Central… army… conscripts… save… my husband."
"The Yanyun conscripted him?"
The woman blinked, hard. Yes.
Murong Jin looked at Xue Liulan. "Don't worry. We'll bring him back."
A faint smile touched the woman's lips. Her hand, clutching Murong Jin's dress, went slack.
"Auntie Liu!" Murong Jin cried out, but she knew it was too late.
Xue Liulan's hand came to rest on her shoulder.
"She's gone. Tomorrow, we go to the Yanyun central command."
"Yes," she answered, her voice thick with unshed tears.
They buried the hunter's wife, disposed of the bodies, and set out.
The road to the Yanyun camp should have been bustling. But it was deserted. Empty houses, a chilling silence.
"Another war, and the borderlands suffer," Xue Liulan sighed.
"The Yanyun have a small population. It's no wonder they're conscripting our men," Murong Jin said as they settled into an abandoned house for the night.
She let out a sudden laugh. "Deng Qinyao really shot himself in the foot, giving them that formation."
The Heavenly Tomb was powerful, but it required a massive number of men. Sayatu had never expected anyone to know how to break it, let alone defeat the Yin-Yang masters. When the formation fell, his men were either killed or captured.
"I still haven't forgiven you for that battle," he said, a note of displeasure in his voice.
"But I'm still alive, aren't I?" She looked away, a smile on her face.
If she had died, he thought, he would not have been so merciful.
"Tomorrow, at their camp, you will not be reckless. And you will not stand in front of me. Understand?" he said, his voice serious.
She turned to him. "I will gladly watch your back."
He smiled faintly. He'd always fought with his back to the wall. But now, the one behind him was someone he couldn't afford to lose.