Wuchuan was once the jewel of the northern frontier, a bustling hub of trade between the dynasty and the Turks. But now, it was a ghost town.
The Murong banner hung crookedly from the city gate, the family name stained dark with blood. The gates stood wide open, unmanned, a silent invitation to plunderers—if there was anything left to plunder.
Xue Liulan reined in the carriage. He looked up at the tattered flag and sighed. The Murong family had been bled dry.
"What do you see?" Murong Jin asked, fumbling with the curtain.
"Nothing." He turned, lifting her from the carriage. With one hand leading the horse and the other around her waist, he walked into Wuchuan.
The streets were empty. Doors were barred, household goods scattered in the dust, remnants of a panicked flight. The horse's hooves echoed hollowly on the stone. Murong Jin pressed close to him, listening for any sign of life.
Nothing. Not even the wind seemed to want to linger here. Wuchuan was a tomb.
"Everyone has fled." Xue Liulan stopped before a building. A brothel. Silk ribbons hung limply from the balcony. Once, they had adorned the arms of a courtesan, drawing cheers from the crowd. Now, the glory was ashes.
"The Murong family fell. Wuchuan could not stand. It is right that the people fled." Murong Jin rested her head on his shoulder. "I wonder what happened to them."
"We'll go a little further," he said softly, his hand warm on her back. "As long as a Murong lives, they will not abandon Wuchuan."
It was her father's promise. As long as one soldier remained, the city would not fall.
They reached the Murong residence. Xue Liulan stopped. He sensed killing intent. It was fleeting, gone in an instant, but it was there.
"What is it?" she asked, sensing his tension.
"Nothing." He forced a laugh, but every muscle in his body was coiled tight.
She followed him, half-believing. Suddenly, he pulled her into his arms. Before she could react, his soft sword sang as it left its sheath, blocking a strike aimed at her face.
The attacker was skilled. Blocked, he changed tactics instantly, his blade flashing up from below, dancing dangerously close to Xue Liulan's heart. He didn't strike to kill, but to separate.
"Who are you?" Xue Liulan retreated, keeping Murong Jin behind him, defending but not attacking. He couldn't risk her getting hurt.
"The man who takes your life." The attacker sneered, lunging again.
Murong Jin gasped. She knew that voice. She stepped forward, heedless of the danger. "Zhen! You're alive!"
It was Zhen, the intelligence master of the Vermilion Bird Camp.
"Jin, get back! You don't know what he's done!" Zhen's sword stopped an inch from her throat. He glared at her. If she shielded him, he couldn't strike.
"What don't I know?" She froze. His voice carried a weight she couldn't bear.
Xue Liulan pulled her back, his sword snaking out to wrap around Zhen's blade.
"Chengyan Valley's Entwined Silk?" Zhen was shocked. He hadn't known the prince was this skilled. The technique was designed to counter brute force, soft overcoming hard, suffocating the opponent.
Xue Liulan smiled. Zhen dropped his sword and leaped back. A drop of blood welled on his wrist where the tip of the soft sword had nicked him.
Mercy. A fraction deeper, and his tendons would have been severed.
"What happened?" Murong Jin clutched Xue Liulan's robe, hearing the scuffle.
"Nothing." Xue Liulan watched Zhen. If a man from the Vermilion Bird Camp wanted you dead, he wouldn't stop until one of you was in the ground.
Sure enough, Zhen charged, unarmed. It looked like suicide against a swordsman. But as Xue Liulan struck, Zhen dodged at an impossible angle and landed a heavy punch on his shoulder.
"Ugh." Xue Liulan grunted, his arm going numb. He stumbled back, leaving Murong Jin standing alone.
"Xue Liulan?" She reached out, lost without his touch.
"Jin." Zhen grabbed her arm. "What happened to your eyes?"
"Ambushed on the road," she said quickly. "Zhen, what about Xue Liulan?"
"Forget him. Let's go." Zhen pulled her toward the gate.
"Leave her." Xue Liulan stood, his sword sheathed, his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes were murderous.
Zhen turned, sneering. "Leave her to be your bargaining chip with the Turks?"
Bargaining chip? Murong Jin froze.
"Zhen, what do you mean?" She grabbed his hand. "What does he have to do with my father's defeat?"
"Jin, this man… he sent grain to Wuchuan with one hand and gave our defense maps to the Turks with the other!" Zhen's voice trembled with rage. "Because of him, the General and Zuo Xunxiao are missing. Most of our brothers are dead."
"He didn't do it," she said automatically.
"How do you know? Jin, don't you know he's always wanted to destroy the Murong family?"
"I know, but…" Her voice trailed off.
Using the Turks to weaken the Murongs. He didn't need to lift a finger to solve the problem of the powerful in-laws. Borrowing a knife to kill. Reaping the fisherman's profit. It was exactly his style.
Suddenly, she didn't know who to believe.
"Losing Wuchuan benefits me nothing." Xue Liulan stared at her. She was hesitating. The certainty she had shown before was gone, replaced by a frown of doubt.
A suffocating weight pressed on his chest. He had never felt so tired. His heart seemed to collapse in on itself. He wanted to find a place where no one could find him and sleep for a thousand years.
"Xue Liulan, Wuchuan fell, but you stationed heavy troops at the Chengguan Pass nearby. What does that mean?" Zhen shouted. If not for her condition, he would have killed him already.
"Chengguan is a strategic point. With troops there, we can hold out for a year. The Turks can't afford a long war," she said calmly, her general's mind taking over.
Xue Liulan gritted his teeth and laughed coldly. "Yes. So even if Wuchuan is lost, even if Murong Yan disappears and the city becomes a tomb, the dynasty is safe."
"You admit it!" Zhen clenched his fists. But he couldn't attack. She was blind. If he died, who would protect her?
Xue Liulan looked at her silent, thoughtful face. "Do you believe it too?"
"You have always been good at using other people's knives." She took a deep breath, her voice terrifyingly calm.
"Hahaha! Good! Very good! Worthy of the General of Wuchuan!" He threw his head back and laughed. The sound echoed in the empty city, desolate and wild.
He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were empty.
"Since you believe it, there is nothing more to say. Zhen, the rest of your men are nearby, aren't they? Call them out. Let's end this."
"End it? Do you want to pay for my father's life?" She took a step toward him, guided by his voice. She couldn't see his grief. She just wanted to be near him.
"Why bother with a crowd?" He waved a hand, and in a blur of motion, he was beside her, grabbing her hand.
Zhen gasped. He hadn't even seen him move. Murong Jin was in his hands. He couldn't kill him today.
But to his shock, Xue Liulan drew his sword, reversed it, and pressed the hilt into her hand. He stepped back, guiding the tip of the blade to his own heart.
"Murong Jin. One step forward, and you can avenge your father." His voice was dead calm. No emotion. No fluctuation.
Her hand tightened on the hilt. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Her sightless eyes stared past him. She couldn't bring herself to look up, even though she couldn't see.
She knew he was watching her.
"Why do you want me to kill you?"
"Don't you want revenge?" He stood straight, offering himself to the blade. "Husband and wife… I give you the chance to do it yourself."
"Husband and wife." She repeated the words, dazed. "Xue Liulan, why don't you explain? You always explain everything so clearly."
"There is nothing to explain." He turned his head away. His back was warm and wet. The wound had opened again, soaking his robes in blood.
Strangely, he felt no pain. He wanted to let go. Life and death were fate. He was tired. He just wanted to obey.