WNST - 125

Xu Kouyue had originally stayed in a safe hideout. But upon hearing that Liang Da and Jiuniang had received orders to intercept Wanyan Jun before the hour of Shen, no matter what, unease stirred within her. 

Stopping Wanyan Jun wouldn’t be easy. If a fight broke out, some comrades would surely sacrifice themselves. 

Xu Kouyue realized she might have a more subtle advantage. 

While Liang Da and Jiuniang were out, she deliberately placed herself in Wanyan Jun’s path. 

She knew exactly how to provoke him—he would stop for her. From the moment he defied everyone and risked everything to take her from the laundry quarters, but then mercilessly trampled and humiliated her dignity afterward, she had seen through his excessive possessiveness. He loved her. 

He thought he could remain in control, but she had long seen through his weaknesses. 

She simply lacked the opportunity, lacked the strength, so she learned to flatter and deceive, to speak with a forked tongue. She had been lying low all along. 

Now, finally, she delivered this blow. In countless moments of mental chaos, she had fantasized about this scene. She did what she had longed to do but never dared.

She hated him with every fiber of her being. 

“You—” Wanyan Jun’s eyes rapidly filled with blood, his features twisted in pain. Anger and regret flooded his dying consciousness. He never expected it to be her. 

“I treated you well!” 

He had shown her rare mercy! How could she do this! 

This spineless woman was nothing but a venomous snake who repaid kindness with betrayal. 

“It was you who taught me to repay kindness with enmity,” Xu Kouyue said numbly, pushing the dagger another inch deeper into his chest. 

Wanyan Jun spat out mouthfuls of blood, using his last ounce of strength to grip Xu Kouyue’s hand tightly. 

“You… will not live either… together…” 

With that, Wanyan Jun collapsed to the ground, and the soldiers rushed over in alarm. 

Xu Kouyue closed her eyes calmly, bracing herself for the retaliatory blows that were sure to come. But instead of pain, she heard the sharp clang of weapons clashing. To her surprise, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her up. 

“Let’s go.” 

Xu Kouyue looked up in confusion—it was Song Muchuan, leading reinforcements. 

The two groups clashed in the courtyard as Song Muchuan shielded Xu Kouyue and helped her escape. Only then did she realize how badly she was trembling; after a few steps, she stumbled. 

Everything had happened so quickly, as if it hadn’t occurred at all. Only the blood on her hands reminded her of what she had just done. Human courage far exceeded what one might imagine—perhaps it was a remnant of divine power left by Nüwa when she created humans, allowing them to become unyielding stones in a fleeting moment. But once that moment passed, they were still weak, ordinary bodies. 

Song Muchuan stopped and asked with concern, “Can you still walk?” 

Xu Kouyue didn’t want to slow them down, but she truly felt drained. 

Without another word, Song Muchuan crouched down and carried her on his back, running toward the exit. 

Xu Kouyue leaned against the broad back of the man, feeling disoriented from the higher vantage point. She had thought she stood on an isolated island in a raging sea, only to realize it was merely land submerged by the tide. As the tide receded, the land remained connected. 

She gazed toward the horizon, where the sky was neither fully dark nor light. 

Far off on the riverbank, it seemed a row of massive objects was drifting downstream. 

In a daze, she murmured in astonishment: “The Dragon Bone Ships have launched…” 

Song Muchuan’s steps abruptly halted. 

“What did you say?!” 

All the Qi soldiers had already boarded the ships. Xie Queshan hadn’t waited for Song Muchuan and his men to arrive before ordering the helmsman to set sail. Each ship should have had assassins ready to ignite the fuses, but circumstances had changed, making it impossible to follow the original plan. He had arranged for the largest flagship to be positioned in the center of the fleet, surrounded by other ships. This way, when the main ship exploded, the shockwave would affect the surrounding vessels. 

He intended to detonate the explosives himself. 

The mixture of saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal had long been packed into the hollow bamboo sections used in the ship’s construction. From the outside, there was no trace of anything amiss. The entire ship was a massive, intricate bomb. 

Song Muchuan was an unparalleled master craftsman. 

He had originally prepared to perish alongside his masterpiece, but someone else had taken his place. 

Song Muchuan finally realized what had happened and, in a frenzy, raced toward the riverbank. 

The Dragon Bone Ships were drifting further and further away from Lidu Prefecture. 

“Xie Chaoyun—Xie Chaoyun!” 

Song Muchuan shouted desperately toward the ships, but his cries were soon swallowed by the roaring river. 

He had deceived them all once again. 

… 

Xie Queshan entered the ship’s armory. He had studied Song Muchuan’s blueprints and knew the location to ignite the explosives was here. When designing the ship, Song Muchuan had left a chance for escape—the fuse would take about the time of a cup of tea to burn completely, allowing someone to leave if they were picked up from outside after ignition. 

If everything had gone according to the original plan, with a grand ceremony underway on the ship, one more or fewer person wouldn’t have drawn attention. But now, with the entire army on high alert, Xie Queshan was the highest-ranking commander on board, and his presence was under constant scrutiny. 

Thus, he hadn’t prepared any means of escape for himself. The overwhelming number of Qi soldiers aboard meant that any suspicion would lead to total failure. 

Claiming he needed to inspect the weapons, Xie Queshan ordered guards to wait outside. Alone, he stepped into the armory and took down a candlestick from the wall. 

The flickering flame reflected in his pupils as he slowly moved deeper inside. 

His slightly trembling hand betrayed the turmoil within him. 

Truthfully, he didn’t necessarily seek death wholeheartedly. He loved some people in this world, and he knew they loved him too. Death meant losing everything. 

But love, hate, desire, and delusion were all like dreams within a dream—his hands remained empty. If everything ended here, perhaps it could bring a fresh start for everyone. 

The flame slowly approached the fuse, sparks crackling as the dormant fuse came alive, snaking its way deeper. 

Yet in this moment, an almost frenzied and reluctant thought of Nanyi surged through him unexpectedly. He hadn’t foreseen that the extinguished longing for companionship would reignite. 

In the final moments, memories of her laughter and smile flooded his mind. Loving passionately was like holding a torch against the wind—it inevitably burned the hand. Though still alive, he felt as if engulfed in flames, endless torment boiling within his heart. 

He had even deceived himself—he longed to grow old with her. But now, there was no turning back. 

That faint flame seemed like his lifeline, briefly illuminating his path. 

Suddenly, a loud explosion shook him. It came sooner than he expected. He closed his eyes, bracing for the imagined destruction—but it didn’t come. Moments later, sounds began erupting one after another. Outside, chaos ensued—but these weren’t explosions. 

He hurriedly opened the window and looked toward the source of the noise. Someone had set off enormous fireworks on the river. 

The dazzling display was rare, captivating everyone’s attention. Some were wary, others panicked, and some simply stopped to watch. The deck was in disarray. 

Realizing something was amiss, Xie Queshan was about to step outside when he noticed two guards silently collapse at the door.

A man dressed in Qi soldier’s armor hobbled closer, leaning on his sword sheath for support—this all-too-familiar and irritating face belonged to none other than Zhang Yuehui.
What was he doing here, walking straight into the lion’s den? In this absurd scene, Xie Queshan thought it over and found a certain logic to it. Aside from him, no one else could have orchestrated such a lavish fireworks display.

When Zhang Yuehui saw Xie Queshan, he tilted his head slightly: “It’s all yours now.”
Xie Queshan moved with practiced ease, swiftly eliminating the pursuers trailing behind Zhang Yuehui.

“Why are you here?”
Zhang Yuehui glanced around the armory: “Just you alone?”
Xie Queshan didn’t understand what Zhang Yuehui meant by that and responded with confusion: “What do you mean, ‘just me’?”
Zhang Yuehui pointed at the fuse: “How long until it blows?”
“One cup of tea’s time.”

Zhang Yuehui spat: “You poor scholar, couldn’t you have spared a few more inches of fuse? You’re so stingy it’s killing you.”
“The fireworks were yours? What are you planning to do?” Xie Queshan didn’t see Zhang Yuehui as an enemy, but his sudden appearance baffled him, prompting a barrage of questions.

“Come here, let me tell you.” Zhang Yuehui stood by the window and beckoned Xie Queshan over.
Without much thought, Xie Queshan approached.

“Get out of here!” Unexpectedly, Zhang Yuehui gave Xie Queshan a hard shove, sending him flying out of the ship’s cabin.
With a splash, Xie Queshan landed directly in the water. At that exact moment, another burst of fireworks exploded in the sky, masking the noise of the commotion below.

Zhang Yuehui shed his heavy armor and, with great difficulty, climbed onto the ship’s railing, then jumped into the river as well.
The surface of the river appeared calm, but beneath it churned powerful currents, pushing them relentlessly in the opposite direction.

“Where’s the raft?” Xie Queshan struggled to maintain his position in the water.
“Who do you think I am, some godlike figure who prepares everything for you? Of course we swim back!” Zhang Yuehui retorted.

“You’re insane, always choosing the most troublesome way to die,” Xie Queshan muttered, though he still didn’t give up this sliver of hope. He swam forward, noticing that Zhang Yuehui’s legs weren’t functioning properly. Without making a fuss, he discreetly grabbed hold of Zhang Yuehui’s clothes, pulling him along.

The fireworks illuminated the river’s surface. Faint outlines revealed a small, unassuming raft speeding toward them.
Song Muchuan had staked everything on reaching this deadly zone. He knew it was a slim chance, but he had to do something. He couldn’t let Xie Queshan die alone on that ship.

As he rowed furiously, he suddenly felt the raft being pulled by some force. Alarmed, he turned to see someone gripping the edge of the raft.
“Scholar, you’re finally good for something.”

Zhang Yuehui clambered onto the raft, panting heavily. His legs seemed useless, and someone in the water gave him a boost before climbing aboard as well.
Song Muchuan had never been one to hide his emotions. The moment he saw Xie Queshan, two clear streams of tears streaked down his astonished face.

Heaven only knew how many life-and-death scenarios had flashed through his mind in those fleeting moments.
“What are you spacing out for? Row faster!”

The raft had barely reached the shore when a massive explosion erupted behind them. One detonation followed another in rapid succession, deafening in their intensity.
Fireworks lit up the sky; flames danced across the water.

The fiery inferno rose from the river like the phoenix’s rebirth—a final glimmer of hope for a collapsing dynasty. Ancient emperors obsessed over alchemy, unknowingly creating gunpowder. Their ancestors likely never imagined they would end up as mere dust, yet their obsession with immortality inadvertently bestowed upon future generations such devastating power. In the equal clash of flesh against flesh, the weaker side had, for the first time, overturned the rules of life and death.

The shockwaves from the explosions reached the shore, sending massive waves crashing down and knocking the three men back into the water. 

Exhausted, they lay on the riverbank, too weak to even look at the explosions on the river. They let the river water wash over their bodies. 

The thunderous roar continued for what seemed like an eternity before finally subsiding. This seemingly impossible mission had been carried forward by countless lives, passing the torch of strength into their hands. They had succeeded. 

This mighty river, flowing ceaselessly eastward, bore witness to tonight’s life-and-death struggle, rise and fall. The land nourished by its waters would soon welcome a true dawn. 

And these three men, in a scenario none of them could have foreseen, briefly found themselves united on the same side.

“Where’s Nanyi?” Zhang Yuehui asked between breaths, his tone tinged with frustration as he looked at Xie Queshan. 

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Xie Queshan replied, both puzzled and anxious. 

He began to realize that Zhang Yuehui had come here today for Nanyi. He must have assumed she was with Xie Queshan and had saved him as an afterthought. 

But Xie Queshan had no idea where Nanyi was.

Zhang Yuehui turned to Song Muchuan: “Have you seen her?” 

Song Muchuan shook his head, confused. 

“This is bad.” Zhang Yuehui’s expression changed, and he struggled to get up from the ground. 

He had originally made up his mind to go to Shu Province alone, vowing to leave others’ affairs behind. But barely an hour into his journey, he frantically ordered Luo Ci to turn back. 

He truly was hopeless—he now understood himself all too well. He was simply a man who spoke one way but acted another, forever burdened by his own contradictions. 

On his way back, he had only found A’jiu’s corpse along the road, with no sign of Nanyi. Assuming she had returned to Lidu Prefecture to find Xie Queshan, he hurried back as fast as he could. 

But it was clear that no one in Lidu Prefecture had seen her. So where could she be? 

At this moment, Nanyi had just arrived at the gates of Lidu Prefecture. Her clothes were tattered, her body covered in blood and filth, making her look like a wild creature emerging from the mountains. 

After killing A’jiu, she had been so exhausted that she collapsed in a nearby cave and slept deeply for hours. Upon waking, she made her way to Lidu Prefecture, perfectly missing Zhang Yuehui in the process. 

“Nanyi!” 

Xie Queshan galloped over, spotting her small figure in the distance. Overcome with urgency, he dismounted and ran toward her. Zhang Yuehui followed closely behind, shamelessly tripping Xie Queshan with his cane.

Just as the two men were rushing toward Nanyi, a figure suddenly lunged forward and tightly embraced her. 

“Sister-in-law!” 

Xie Sui’an’s loud wails echoed through the city gate: “Waaah, Sister-in-law, how did you end up like this?!” 

“Mmm... Little Six... I can’t breathe...” Nanyi was nearly suffocating in Xie Sui’an’s tight grip. 

Xie Sui’an finally let go of Nanyi, tears and snot streaming down his face, and after a moment, broke into a relieved smile. 

“It’s so good… all of you are alive.”