WNST - 124

Xie Queshan suddenly stood up and walked to the window. He glanced outside, where a few guards were patrolling. Their presence was ordinary, nothing unusual. 

Wanyan Jun’s suspicious gaze followed his movements, but seeing Xie Queshan casually close the window, he thought nothing of it. Perhaps it was the coolness of late spring, or perhaps he feared eavesdroppers. Either way, Wanyan Jun didn’t suspect anything. His focus now was entirely on how to wipe out the Yucheng Army. 

“My lord, would you like to hear the truth from me?” 

“Mr. Que Shan, feel free to speak. At this moment, in all of Lidu Prefecture, you are the only person I can trust.” 

Xie Queshan slowly approached Wanyan Jun, an enigmatic smile flickering across his face. 

“It is an honor to have your trust, my lord. However… your suspicions about me are not without reason.” 

There was something odd about this statement. As Wanyan Jun furrowed his brow in thought, the next moment, a swift hand strike came crashing down. 

In the last second before losing consciousness, Wanyan Jun seemed to glimpse determination in Xie Queshan’s eyes. He felt immense regret, but it was too late. 

Xie Queshan drew his sword from his waist but hesitated for a moment before putting it back. 

Killing Wanyan Jun would indeed save a lot of trouble, but the guards would notice something amiss within moments. Xie Queshan wouldn’t be able to leave the premises. With such sudden developments, he had no time to clean up properly. 

He still needed to use this identity to accomplish his mission. He had to remain untainted. 

Leaving Wanyan Jun alive was a significant risk, but to buy some time, this was the only option. Xie Queshan dragged Wanyan Jun into the inner chamber, took the military token from his waist, and dumped him onto the bed. To the guards outside, he claimed that he and Lord Wanyan were celebrating early. “The lord has had too much to drink and is resting,” he said. A guard peeked in and saw Wanyan Jun sleeping soundly, raising no further suspicion. 

Once out of the mansion, Xie Queshan immediately headed to Jiangyue Lane to find Song Muchuan. 

Though this street appeared to still be under Qi control, all the stationed troops had been quietly subdued. The Yucheng Army had donned the uniforms of the Qi soldiers, waiting to sneak aboard the ship and detonate the explosives at the right moment. 

As soon as Xie Queshan entered Jiangyue Lane, he was met with the sharp points of swords and blades from the vigilant Yucheng Army. 

Song Muchuan quickly dismissed everyone and pulled Xie Queshan aside to a secluded spot. “Why are you here?” Since their hurried parting last time, they hadn’t had a chance to catch up. But now, at such a critical juncture, Song Muchuan didn’t want to see Xie Queshan—his arrival meant that something had changed. Yet his fragile heart couldn’t bear even the slightest problem arising with his dear friend. 

“I need more time. Wait for my signal before boarding the ship.” 

Xie Queshan spoke calmly, but Song Muchuan still detected a hint of urgency. “Is it serious?” 

“It’s still under control.” 

Song Muchuan understood—it was both a reassurance and a sign of unwavering resolve. He didn’t want Xie Queshan to take any more risks, but he had to suppress his personal feelings and trust him. That was the only way to give him strength. 

He kept his words brief: “Is there anything you need me to do?” 

“Before the hour of Shen, send someone to keep watch on Wanyan Jun’s residence. If he leaves, no matter what, even if you have to kill him, don’t let him reach the camp.”

The order was so intense that Song Muchuan immediately understood: Xie Queshan had completely cast off his disguise and was openly challenging the Qi forces. The long years of undercover work had been compressed into these few hours—a desperate gamble to secure even the slightest chance of victory today. 

“Understood.” Song Muchuan’s response was solemn. 

“Take care.” Without a moment’s pause, Xie Queshan turned and hurriedly left. 

Watching his retreating figure, Song Muchuan suddenly felt uneasy. 

“Xie Chaoyun.” Driven by an inexplicable intuition, Song Muchuan called out to him. 

The man paused briefly, as if he had anticipated what Song Muchuan might say. Deliberately not turning around, he didn’t want anyone to see his expression. 

“Victory awaits your return,” Song Muchuan shouted to his back. 

A rare smile appeared on Xie Queshan’s face. He waved his hand dismissively. 

Song Muchuan expected Xie Queshan to say something in response, but he remained silent, mounted his horse, and rode away. Watching the fading hoofprints, Song Muchuan realized that Xie Queshan was being pessimistic. 

Silently, he was telling him: Do your best and leave the rest to fate. But Song Muchuan believed—this time, heaven would be on their side. 

His heartbeat thundered like a drum, growing louder as Xie Queshan disappeared into the distance. That sound leapt from his chest, echoing with the war drums resounding from the other side of the city. 

Wooden mallets struck taut sheepskin drumheads, bare-chested warriors pounding rhythmically and powerfully. Horns blared from the watchtowers. 

An unexpected military order sent all soldiers into high alert, quickly donning armor and forming ranks. 

On the training platform, Xie Queshan raised the stolen military token in his hand and declared loudly: “The Yucheng Army has broken through the gates and is escorting Prince Ling’an out of Lidu Prefecture! The situation is dire. Lord Wanyan has specially ordered me to mobilize troops—all soldiers, listen up! Move out immediately and board the Dragon Bone Ship! Kill the new king and seize Jinling!” 

The camp commander still had some doubts and asked, “But Lord Wanyan clearly instructed us to hold our positions here...” 

Before he could finish, Xie Queshan wasted no words. In one swift motion, he drew his sword and killed the man on the spot. 

“The order is clear: any who defy or delay will be executed immediately. Does anyone else have objections?!” 

Xie Queshan had previously managed the army alongside Husa. In everyone’s eyes, he was a meticulous and infallible Han strategist, highly respected within the military. His words carried weight. 

A natural-born leader—even holding a stolen military token and spouting lies—he stood there, raising his arm in a rallying cry, stirring hearts and leaving no room for doubt. 

“Kill the new king and seize Jinling!” 

“Kill the new king! Seize Jinling!” 

The soldiers’ blood boiled; they harbored no suspicion and immediately formed ranks to move out. 

--- 

The torrential rain in the mountains continued unabated. 

As A’jiu’s blade came crashing down, Nanyi, having anticipated it, crossed her sword to block with all her might. Just as the blade pressed closer and closer, A’jiu suddenly heard a click and felt a sharp pain in his chest—a small crossbow bolt had shot out from her sleeve, catching him off guard. 

“Damn woman, full of dirty tricks,” A’jiu cursed inwardly. 

Bearing the pain, he summoned his last ounce of strength and drove the blade deep into her shoulder blade. 

Blood gushed forth, washing away in the heavy rain and mingling with the mud. Nanyi’s face was blurred by the downpour, but her eyes—wild, unyielding—remained wide open. 

A’jiu was driven mad by those eyes. In a fit of frustration, he kicked her hard, hoping she would die quickly. 

Panting heavily, A’jiu staggered back a few steps and pulled the crossbow bolt from his chest. She had aimed accurately, and at such close range, the arrow had penetrated deeply. Fortunately, he wore soft armor, so it hadn’t hit a vital spot—only the tip drew blood. Normally, such a wound would hardly matter, but now it added insult to injury. Beyond this woman, the other assassins were masters among masters, and defeating them had already drained him completely. Standing was now a struggle; he was at his limit. 

For the first time, A’jiu—the man who had killed countless enemies—felt fear. A formidable opponent wasn’t necessarily someone with great skill; it was enough to have an unyielding heart that could drag you into hell. He didn’t want to fight anymore, nor did he dare. He didn’t know what other tricks this woman might have up her sleeve. Retreat was the best option. 

Dragging his wounded body, limping and staggering, he fled. After running far ahead, he glanced back—there she was, stubbornly following him like a ghost. 

Madwoman! 

A’jiu cursed inwardly. 

From her movements, it was clear she no longer had the strength to lunge forward and kill him—she could barely keep up. 

And he no longer had the strength to counterattack. 

Only then did A’jiu realize he had underestimated her. This woman was clearly the least skilled among the assassins. 

Nanyi trudged forward, her gaze locked firmly on A’jiu. 

She had only one thought: A’jiu must die. 

At this point, peerless martial arts and legendary weapons no longer mattered—it was about sheer willpower. 

Before completing her mission, she dared not fall. Behind her stood countless warriors of this land. She thought of Pang Yu, who had charged headlong into death before her eyes. For so long, she had been afraid to admit that her small sense of justice might not be enough to change the world—it might even seem laughable. Yet she couldn’t stop recalling him. Someone had truly lived and died for their ideals, unwavering until the end. Only now did she realize how profoundly he had influenced her life. 

Pang Yu had been her first teacher. Later, she began to suspect that handing over intelligence to her—an irresponsible thief—had been a dangerous gamble on his part. But he had no choice; it was the only way. His death had taught her a lesson. And when Xie Queshan had spared her life and taught her how to survive, had it also been for this reason? Because she was Pang Yu’s student, and he hoped she would carry on that greater cause. 

And she… she hoped she hadn’t disappointed her teacher. 

Nanyi tore a strip of cloth from her garment, wrapping it tightly around the hilt of her sword and binding it to her wrist, making the weapon an extension of her body. 

With a fierce roar, she summoned her last reserves of strength and charged forward. Mud splashed beneath her feet, blooming like the final flower of spring—silent, yet magnificent.

She was very clear about where she was heading, beyond all this mud. 

Puchi—the sharp blade pierced through flesh and blood. 

A’jiu no longer had the strength to dodge, and he knew there was no escape. If not this sword strike, then the next one. If not here, then at the next hilltop. 

The determination of a person is the most terrifying thing in this world. 

--- 

The gates of the dockyard opened. The newly built fleet of over ten Dragon Bone Ships were connected by iron chains, entering the water one after another in an orderly fashion. Nearly ten thousand soldiers from the camp boarded the ships in succession. 

Xie Queshan watched everything unfold with bated breath. At this moment, nothing could afford to go wrong. This was a battle of one against ten thousand. He needed to wait until every soldier was aboard, until the ships were out in the middle of the river, leaving everyone with no means of escape, before igniting the fuse. All the ships were linked together—once one exploded, the surrounding vessels would be affected, triggering a chain reaction of explosions. 

Meanwhile, Wanyan Jun had awakened. 

He was furious, never expecting Xie Queshan to dare knock him unconscious so brazenly and steal his military token. He assumed that Xie Queshan would head straight to the camp, so he immediately rallied all his guards to chase after him, determined to intercept Xie Queshan at all costs. 

Just as he stepped out, a guard suddenly reported that they had captured Princess Lingfu. 

She had already been brought to the courtyard. Dressed in plain clothes, her hair adorned only with simple pins, her face free of makeup, she appeared as fragile as a piece of paper ready to be blown away at any moment. 

It had been some time since he last saw her, and her image in his mind had grown faint. 

Wanyan Jun’s instincts immediately kicked in—he sensed the trap. 

For days and nights, his men had scoured the city but found no trace of the royal siblings. Why hadn’t she been caught earlier or later, but precisely now? 

“Kill her.” 

A ruthless, cold expression crossed Wanyan Jun’s face. 

He was fully aware that his priority now was to capture Xie Queshan; nothing could hinder his progress. 

The soldier had already drawn his blade when Xu Kouyue suddenly called out to his retreating back: “I saved your life once—you owe me!” 

Wanyan Jun’s figure trembled violently. 

She still remembered! 

Incredulous, he turned back: “Stop!” 

The tip of the blade was only an inch away from her neck. At Wanyan Jun’s command, the soldier barely managed to halt. 

Despite knowing something was amiss, Wanyan Jun waved his hand, dismissing the soldier. 

“What do you remember?” he asked, gripping her chin uncertainly. 

Xu Kouyue laughed, an expression of rare audacity on her face as she faced him. 

“The first time I saw you, I recognized you immediately. You were the son of that peddler who was trampled underfoot, pleading for mercy for your father’s life.” 

Yes, twenty years ago in Bianjing, when they were still children, their paths had crossed briefly. 

Wanyan Jun’s father had been selling felt hats in the market when he was falsely accused of using counterfeit coins for change—coins given to them by a previous customer. Soldiers had seized their stall, and he could only kneel and beg for mercy, imploring them not to take his father away. 

It was a matter that could have been easily resolved with a simple investigation, but the soldiers were too lazy to act, choosing instead to arrest him outright. Just then, Princess Lingfu’s ceremonial procession happened to pass through the marketplace. That little girl, surrounded by adoration, had kindly stopped for an insignificant ant like him, speaking up on his behalf. 

From the dirt, he had looked up at her. He had to be grateful for her pity, yet his pride resented it deeply. To him, her kindness felt like a silent boast of superiority, flaunting the goodness of those above. 

And so, he vowed to rise to the top, ensuring no one could ever manipulate him again. 

The purer and more flawless she was, the more he wanted to crush her—to prove that he had succeeded. 

Wanyan Jun hadn’t thought about his humble origins in a long time. It felt like a past life, distant and forgotten. He had assumed she wouldn’t remember—it was just a fleeting encounter when they were children. But her words struck a raw nerve, exposing his shameful past. It made him seethe with anger while simultaneously sinking into self-loathing. 

Xu Kouyue gazed at him, as if reading his thoughts: “Do you know how I recognized you? The faces of the poor always bear the eyes of the poor, looking at this world with a sense of desperation, as if you don’t grab what you want, someone else will take it from you.” 

“Even if you trample me beneath your feet, even if you rise above me, you can never escape your origins.” 

Her words stung him, one after another. With a loud slap, Wanyan Jun struck her across the face. 

Enraged, he grabbed her by the collar, shouting louder and louder as if trying to mask his deep-seated inferiority: “Xu Kouyue, what are you now? You’re nothing! You’ll have to kneel before me, begging for my favor, begging for your life! Do you understand how fortunes change?” 

“I do,” Xu Kouyue replied calmly. “It’s your turn to face the consequences.” 

In Wanyan Jun’s angriest, most unguarded moment, Xu Kouyue plunged the dagger hidden in her sleeve into his heart.