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Everyone’s eyes were bloodshot from the chaos.
Suddenly, amidst the endless cries of battle, the blare of horns echoed through the vast mountains, leaving lingering reverberations. The crowd turned to see Han Shouye and his son mounted on horseback, their figures emerging slowly from among the ranks of iron-armored soldiers.
Inside the palace hall, Crown Prince Xiao Yizhao was cradled in his mother Empress Fu Rong’s arms. Peering through the crack in the door, he spotted Han Shouye and instinctively called out, “Uncle Grandfather!” He thought Han Shouye had come to join him and his parents for dinner.
But almost immediately, his mother clamped her hand over his mouth. Her trembling hand confused him, and when he looked up at her with wide eyes, she wasn’t looking at him but instead staring fixedly through the crack in the door. Her expression flickered, filling him with unease. Swallowing hard, he instinctively pressed closer to the door, his large, dark eyes reflecting the countless torches outside—and the endless sea of corpses and blood.
He saw his uncle-grandfather clad in armor, surrounded by soldiers, drawing his sword and pointing it at his father. “Ziteng,” Han Shouye declared, “we are blood relatives, uncle and nephew. If you surrender now, abdicate the throne, and issue an edict of self-reproach, I will spare your life. You may still be granted a noble title or high office—a life of wealth and honor.”
The sight of a subject drawing a sword against the Emperor shocked everyone. Fu Jiang, enraged, brandished his halberd at Han Shouye and roared, “Han Shouye! How dare you spout such treacherous nonsense! Surrender your neck at once! Does the Emperor’s mercy give you the right to push your luck?”
Han Shouye sneered, not even sparing Fu Jiang a glance. His cold gaze remained locked on Xiao Ziteng, like a ravenous wolf eyeing a piece of bloody meat.
In stark contrast to the tension outside, Xiao Ziteng appeared remarkably calm. He even let out a hearty laugh, countering, “An edict of self-reproach? May I ask, General, what crimes have I committed?”
The edge of Han Shouye’s sword gleamed coldly, and his tone was even colder. Through the crack in the door, Xiao Yizhao heard his uncle-grandfather say, “As a ruler, you are narrow-minded and ungrateful, disregarding the contributions of the southern families who fled here forty years ago. Now, you seek to eliminate the noble clans—is that not true?”
Yizhao didn’t fully understand his uncle-grandfather’s words, but he realized that Uncle Grandfather truly intended harm to his father.
Yizhao grew frightened and instinctively clutched his mother’s hand. At that moment, he heard his father retort, “General speaks so confidently—why, then, did the Han family not lift a finger when the Shen and Qi families fell into ruin? You were quick to devour their power, yet now you speak of righteousness as if mourning the death of a rabbit? Hypocrisy!”
Han Shouye was momentarily silenced, then erupted in fury: “You!”
Xiao Ziteng stood there in his bright yellow robes, hands clasped behind his back, disdainfully eyeing Han Shouye. His voice rang out with authority: “You accuse me of ingratitude? Or is it you who have overstepped? Since ancient times, the relationship between sovereign and subject has been clear, generation after generation. Yet in our Liang Dynasty, ministers dare to place themselves above the Emperor. What kind of nonsense is this?”
“The skies over Jiangzuo have been chaotic for far too long.” The Emperor’s voice echoed across the mountains. “Today, I stand here for you to cut down. Victory or defeat—no second thoughts. But if you fail, I will take the heads of every single member of the Han family to restore the proper order between sovereign and subject. Do you dare?”
When an emperor grows angry, millions fall dead, rivers run red with blood.
This was already the sixth year of Xiao Ziteng’s reign. He was no longer the young prince hiding behind a mask of dissipation; he was now a calculating monarch who had personally orchestrated the massacre of the Qi clan. Standing beneath the grand palace pavilion, his bearded face exuded a seasoned ruthlessness that inspired awe.
Yet Han Shouye was not intimidated by this display of imperial authority.
A man determined to overturn the chessboard no longer cared for its rules. With Qi Yin dead, Xiao Ziteng had lost his greatest ally. Trapped here alone, how much trouble could he possibly cause? Tonight, Han Shouye had brought twenty thousand troops, while the Imperial Silver Guards numbered only five thousand. Surely they could subdue Xiao Ziteng, this mere whelp!
With his resolve set, Han Shouye saw no need for further words. He raised his sword, ready to lead his men to claim his nephew’s head. But just then, a glint flashed in Xiao Ziteng’s eyes, followed by the sharp whistle of an arrow slicing through the air. Han Feicong shouted, “Father, beware!”
Leaping forward, he slashed the arrow aimed at Han Shouye’s back into two pieces!
All within the blink of an eye!
Han Shouye’s steed reared up, neighing loudly. After stabilizing the horse, Han Shouye quickly turned to look behind him. From a hundred paces away, countless armored soldiers emerged from the forest. At their head stood a man in full military regalia, holding a bow wrapped in red cloth. His presence was commanding—it was none other than General Pei Jian, Commander of the Cavalry!
Xiao Ziteng had kept a hidden ace up his sleeve!
Exchanging a glance with his son, Han Shouye barely had time to speak before Xiao Ziteng’s voice boomed: “Traitors rise against the state, endangering our nation! All under heaven have the duty to exterminate them. Pei Jian! I command you to capture the Han father and son alive. As for the rest, spare those who surrender!”
The Emperor’s voice resonated like jade, echoing across the mountains like a divine decree. Pei Jian, the young general, crisply acknowledged the order. Soldiers concealed in the forest surged forward, their war cries chilling all who heard them.
Yet Han Shouye’s face showed little panic.
He laughed heartily, his voice filled with triumph. “Xiao Ziteng! You think yourself clever, but you’re nothing more than a fool!”
With a swift motion of his hand, Han Feicong signaled an officer to fire a signal flare into the sky. A brilliant light shot into the heavens above Xiaoshan, followed by the thunderous roar of advancing troops from below.
Han Shouye… had also kept a hidden move.
Ha! He was committing treason—how could he not be cautious? How could he not account for every possibility?
Ten years ago, Pei Jian had been an obscure commander in Shicheng, worth nothing. But that year, after Jiang Yong’s assassination, he inexplicably caught Qi Jingchen’s attention. Qi had secretly supported this young commander, later entrusting him with critical roles during the northern campaign. At the Battle of Jianshan Pass, Pei Jian nearly decapitated the late Yan Duke of Northern Wei, earning fame overnight.
Over the past five years, Qi Jingchen openly supported commoners, and Pei Jian rose alongside them. In every campaign led by Qi, Pei Jian fought on the frontlines, repeatedly distinguishing himself. By the age of thirty, he had risen to become Commander of the Cavalry, one of Xiao Ziteng’s most favored generals, gradually eroding the military power held by the Han family.
It was clear Pei Jian was Qi Yin’s man. How could Han Shouye not prepare for this?
Han Shouye had planned this game for years, accounting for everything. Besides Pei Jian, he had anticipated others—the Qi family’s collateral branches, Qi Feng, Qi Zheng, and Qi Ting. Every general within five hundred li of Xiaoshan had been scrutinized. Either spies had been planted near them, or they had been preemptively transferred to border regions. None could interfere tonight!
No loopholes!
Everything rested on this one gamble!
Xiaoshan’s vastness belied the rapidly shifting tides of battle, leaving everyone dizzy from the whirlwind of changes.
Inside the palace hall, the young Crown Prince finally understood that what lay beyond the crack in the door was no game, no jest. His uncle-grandfather truly sought to kill his father. Before him stretched a real mountain of blades and sea of flames—a living hell.
He began to tremble uncontrollably.
“Mother,” he sobbed, his small hands clutching her skirt. “I’m scared, I’m scared…”
Unable to bear looking outside, he turned to bury himself in his mother’s arms. But she pushed him away firmly, her nails digging painfully into his shoulders as she forced him to open his eyes and witness the carnage.
“Zhao’er, look carefully,” her voice was icy and heavy, each word striking bone-deep. “This is the path you must walk. Even amidst the destruction of life, even in storms of blood, even when your own kin raise swords against you, you cannot retreat.”
“Like your father,” her long nails pierced deeper into his flesh. “Always standing there, never ceasing to fight, always striving for the highest place.”
Xiao Yizhao trembled violently, unsure why.
Was it his mother’s tone that terrified him so?
Or the sharp pain of her nails digging into his skin?
Or the fear of facing these horrors for the rest of his life, like his father?
Or simply because… it seemed his father might be defeated by Uncle Grandfather?
He was too young to know.
All he felt was mounting terror. He watched as the Silver Guards fell one by one, their numbers dwindling. He saw General Pei Jian rush to protect his father, cutting down several assailants with swift strokes. But for every enemy felled, another took their place. Two fell, and two more appeared—endless waves.
He saw Uncle Grandfather laughing triumphantly, his father’s lone figure appearing increasingly desolate. His father’s fists clenched tightly behind his back. He saw Uncle Fu Jiang gravely wounded, collapsing before their door, his body riddled with wounds…
He saw more and more iron-clad soldiers closing in on his father, on the palace where he and his mother hid…
General Pei Jian had slain countless enemies, his body drenched in blood. Yet still, more men charged toward the gate, their eyes blazing with malice, their blades dripping with gore, like demons intent on taking his and his mother’s lives!
His father was the most exalted person in the world! His mother was the Empress! He was the future heir to the throne, destined to ascend and inherit the empire!
Why did these people want to kill them?
He was so afraid…
Meanwhile, Han Shouye gazed at the crumbling Xiao Ziteng with growing confidence. He laughed triumphantly, his voice echoing across the mountains. He envisioned himself cutting off Xiao Ziteng’s head, donning the bright yellow robes, ascending to the highest seat, and being worshipped by millions. He would crown his concubine Lady Yan as Empress! She and their son Li’er would enjoy endless riches! He would make the elders of the Han family, who once looked down on him, open their eyes wide and see who had brought infinite glory to the Hans!
But just then, he noticed something.
The clamor of battle from below had gradually faded into silence. Slowly, the mountain paths lit up with brighter and brighter torches, countless flames illuminating Xiaoshan’s night like daylight!
Amidst that sudden quiet…
Beneath that scorching light…
Everyone saw a solitary figure slowly approaching along the mountain path.
Tall hat, flowing robes, phoenix eyes gleaming.
Without a trace of martial aura, yet an overwhelming pressure emanated from him like a mountain.
Behind him stretched endless torches, suggesting he brought light. Yet those flames burned like the fires of hell, consuming countless grievances and greed, reducing them to ash.
They had mercilessly consumed him too.
He emerged from the abyss of karma.
Still, like those towering days of old—
Both an Avīci Asura,
And a compassionate Buddha.
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