WNST - 123

Zhang Yuehui sat in the carriage, cloaked in the night’s darkness, as still as a statue. Despite the swaying of the carriage and the shifting shadows, he remained unmoved. 

She’s gone. 

This woman truly has a ruthless heart. 

He closed his eyes, feeling the jolts of the land beneath him. Each bump sent pain through his wounds. Yet strangely, he felt somewhat detached—not sad, not lost, just accepting. 

He knew her and Luo Ci’s plan, but he hadn’t exposed it. In fact, he even hinted to Luo Ci not to tell Nanyi, fearing she wouldn’t think of it herself. 

At the moment when he was closest to her, when they had the best chance of being together, he chose to let go. 

Living in denial was painful. A person could deceive millions, but never themselves. He clearly knew that the moment she agreed to leave with him to save Xie Queshan, he had already lost completely. 

It was his stubbornness, refusing to give up until the bitter end. He had thought their conflicts would stem from Nanyi, only to realize that the real obstacle was within himself. 

He wanted her to be free and happy—so how could he deprive her of the freedom to choose? 

But paradoxically, he didn’t want to be a magnanimous good guy either. Wasn’t he just a thief? Having taken what he wanted by force, how laughable it would be to act the gentleman now. 

He didn’t want to say to her face, “Go do what you want to do; I’m willing to let go.”

And then he would end up holding her hand, tears streaming down their faces, in some overly sentimental scene. 

But he was a thorough villain; he wouldn’t bother meddling in the mess of the Bingzhu Division for no reason. By doing so, everyone would assume he was still the selfish man they thought he was, and she could leave without any burden. 

He wasn’t pretending to be some kind of saint—he simply didn’t want her anymore. 

Yes, he didn’t want her anymore. 

A tear slid from the corner of Zhang Yuehui’s eye, and he laughed at himself mockingly. Though no one was watching, he casually wiped it away as if nothing had happened. 

Instead, he felt a strange sense of relief. 

It wasn’t just about Nanyi—perhaps deep down, he didn’t want to see the Bingzhu Division lose. 

From a practical standpoint, if the Bingzhu Division won, it might delay the Qi forces’ pursuit of him… but there were also other indescribable emotions subtle pestering him. 

It was like the humid air carried by the plum rains that crossed the river and traveled northward, bringing the dampness of the capital and his hometown, seeping into his heart through every crack. 

He wanted to ignore it, but he couldn’t bear the torment within. 

By letting her go to kill A’jiu, for the rest of his life, during countless sleepless nights, his conscience wouldn’t have to suffer for standing idly by. 

It seemed like he was granting her wish, but in truth, she was also granting his. 

But he knew that killing A’jiu would be as difficult as ascending to the heavens. He respected the fate she had chosen, even if she ultimately sacrificed herself for her ideals—even if she died… 

Even if she died. 

Zhang Yuehui clenched his fists tighter and tighter, the veins on his temples throbbing as he struggled to suppress the surging emotions. 

If she died, that would be her choice—it would have nothing to do with him anymore, right? 

— 

Operation Phoenix, the day of. 

Several black horses raced through the dense forest. On them were A’jiu and his men, who had been rushing back to Lidu Prefecture day and night. 

In Qingzhou, A’jiu had uncovered an important clue—the Bingzhu Division in Lidu Prefecture was producing large quantities of gunpowder. 

There was no time to send a message to Wanyan Puruo, who was far away in Jinling. He had to return to Lidu Prefecture as quickly as possible to deliver the news. 

But after days of heavy rain, landslides had occurred, and massive boulders blocked A’jiu’s path. Taking a detour would add several more days to the journey, so A’jiu decisively turned back to a nearby village, hiring villagers to immediately clear the mountain road. 

As a result, A’jiu stopped for a while at a small tea pavilion outside the village. 

Inside the tea pavilion, three workers were busy attending to various tasks. The heavy rain had caused leaks in the roof, and two of them were repairing it, neglecting to properly serve the customers. They hastily brought out a few pots of tea. 

A’jiu and his men were highly vigilant and did not drink anything offered to them. They silently sat and waited for the road to be cleared. 

The three workers clanged and banged as they repaired the tea pavilion, but instead of fixing the leaks, they somehow made things worse. Suddenly, with a loud crash, the entire tea pavilion split in half, and the accumulated water on the roof poured down, soaking the people sitting inside. 

The workers were stunned and hurriedly apologized, attempting to wipe off the water with towels. 

A’jiu, lost in tangled thoughts, didn’t react in time to the sudden incident. When the three workers surrounded him, all he felt was overwhelming anger. 

But in the blink of an eye, those three pulled hidden weapons from their sleeves and killed two of A’jiu’s men. Though caught off guard, A’jiu was still superior in martial arts. He immediately reacted, flipping over the table and rolling three feet away. 

A sharp whistling sound came from above—a nimble woman leapt down from the roof, her sword descending alongside the rapidly falling raindrops. At the last moment, A’jiu barely managed to block the blow with his arm, countering by disarming her. 

Immediately afterward, crossbow bolts shot toward A’jiu. He narrowly protected his vital points but couldn’t avoid being hit by some arrows. 

Nanyi knew A’jiu would be difficult to handle, so these attacks were only meant to weaken him first. Finally, two more assassins emerged from hiding, and several people engaged A’jiu in combat. 

Luo Ci had given her five assassins to command. She didn’t dare confront A’jiu head-on, so she first created a landslide to block his path at a critical point along their route. Then, she rented the tea pavilion for the day to ambush him. 

Even with the advantage, the leader of the Black Crow Camp remained terrifying. 

… 

Corpses lay scattered across the ground. A’jiu was utterly exhausted, but he still slowly stood up. 

Finally… they’re all dead, aren’t they? 

It had been a brutal fight. His blade was chipped and dull from the fierce clashes, but in the end, he had narrowly won. 

He was the leader of the Black Crow Camp, the most formidable warrior under Wanyan Puruo’s command. Killing him wouldn’t be so easy. 

A’jiu dragged his heavy steps toward the exit when suddenly, someone grabbed his ankle. 

He looked down to see that the woman still had some life left in her. Though gravely injured, she used her last ounce of strength to pull him back. 

“You will never… return to Lidu Prefecture!” 

The torrential rain tore open a corner of the sky, and countless raindrops fell like arrows racing toward the earth. 

A’jiu had the illusion that this wasn’t just a dying woman’s final struggle—it was as if a command from the gods had come through a rift in the heavens. 

This command was inescapable and destined to be fulfilled. 

The illusion startled A’jiu. He immediately raised his blade, preparing to strike down hard and send this dying person straight to hell— 

… 

Lidu Prefecture. 

The sun was obscured by dark, oppressive clouds, and the night faded from the world, replaced by a suffocating gray-white hue. 

Wangxue Lodge had become a vast, silent prison. 

Madam Gantang finally woke up. In her last moments of consciousness, the long-planned scheme of the Yucheng Army had been exposed, and the situation had reached its worst point. Terrified, she sat up abruptly, fearing that upon waking, she would face a world that had already collapsed. 

But what met her eyes was only a narrow woodshed. Tang Rong, gravely injured, leaned against a pile of firewood, resting. Their hands, at some point, had intertwined. 

Madam Gantang was startled and quickly let go of his hand.

Tang Rong was startled awake by her movement. With great difficulty, he straightened his body and shifted closer to her. 

This proximity made Madam Gantang’s heart flutter, as if something were plucking at the strings of a boundary she didn’t want to cross. She remembered the scene before she lost consciousness—his frantic expression as he tried to save her. She dared not think about what it meant. She wanted to speak, but her throat was too hoarse to form a complete syllable. All she could do was retreat further away. 

Tang Rong glanced toward the door, signaling with his eyes. Only then did she notice the guards standing outside. Even the slightest noise inside would be overheard. Tang Rong must have moved closer to tell her something. 

Realizing this, Madam Gantang stopped retreating. She allowed him to lean in close, whispering into her ear in an almost inaudible voice: “My lady, the confession was false.” 

Madam Gantang froze, beginning to understand. 

Was it Tang Rong who had given false intelligence to save her? Or had this been part of a larger scheme from the start? 

She raised her hand to gently touch the wound on Tang Rong’s shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak, but still no sound came out. Instead, she looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and doubt. 

Tang Rong understood her unspoken question. Though his face clearly showed the pain he was enduring, he deliberately responded with a cryptic answer: “It doesn’t hurt.” 

Madam Gantang exhaled shakily, her anxious heart finally finding some semblance of peace. 

So there was still hope. 

Her thoughts turned to Xie Queshan’s reaction the previous night. Could it be that he was also playing along with this act? 

Could he be… 

Countless strange moments from the past flooded Madam Gantang’s mind. She didn’t want to believe it, yet she found herself believing without hesitation. 

Covering her face with her hands, overwhelmed with mixed emotions of joy and sorrow, she suddenly began to sob uncontrollably. 

Meanwhile, Xie Queshan was at Wanyan Jun’s residence. 

He had practically clung to Wanyan Jun, offering advice and strategies. Fortunately for him, Wanyan Jun was entirely focused on annihilating the Yucheng Army. Being inexperienced in military tactics, Wanyan Jun needed someone to consult with. 

Xie Queshan had already helped Wanyan Jun plan the deployment on the ship, cramming as many soldiers onto it as possible. 

But unexpectedly, Wanyan Jun suddenly pointed to the sand table and asked, “What if we reduce the number of men at each location to just ten percent? Would that still work?” 

Xie Queshan was startled: “Why would you do that? The Yucheng Army is one of the few elite forces left in Yu. If we reduce our numbers, we’ll lose any chance of victory.” 

“I’m afraid this might be a diversion tactic by the Yucheng Army. If we move all our troops onto the ship, Lidu Prefecture will be left defenseless. What if they turn around and attack our camp? We need sufficient troops in the city to guard it. Otherwise, gaining the ship but losing the city would be a terrible loss.” 

Xie Queshan’s heart sank. Wanyan Jun was meticulous in his thinking. Even though they had deceived him, he wouldn’t act entirely according to their plans. 

If the number of soldiers on the ship was only ten percent of what they had envisioned, all their efforts to blow it up would be wasted. 

But Wanyan Jun’s stance was firm. If Xie Queshan continued to argue, it would only raise suspicion. 

The arrow was already on the string; it had to be fired.