Chapter Eleven: The Great Victory

Chu Jiangye rode atop his red-maned warhorse, nearly eighty thousand troops trailing behind him. The entire Xiliang army had mobilized, their rows of crimson banners appearing especially somber in the night, which was caught between darkness and dawn.

In his hand, Chu Jiangye clutched a letter, sent by Third Highness through Xiao Qin. The message was brief, containing only a single line:

"Never obstruct a retreating army; always leave a gap when surrounding the enemy."

Years of command had made Chu Jiangye familiar with military strategy, yet he could not grasp the precise meaning of this advice in the present situation. Beyond the letter, he possessed only the tiger tally, the symbol of Xiliang’s supreme command—nothing else.

But upon hearing Xiao Qin say, "His Highness personally leads the righteous army of the martial world to sever Qingqiu’s supply lines," Chu Jiangye immediately slapped the table and rose to his feet.

He ordered the army to break camp at once, marching toward Xiangyang to rescue the Third Prince, unwilling to delay even a moment.

He had never harbored fantasies that an inexperienced prince could, by assembling a makeshift force and relying on ardor alone, truly penetrate enemy lines and torch Qingqiu’s supply routes. Such a feat was as improbable as plucking a weed from the roadside and having it seize the throne in a world rife with strife—a pure fable.

Yet Chu Jiangye felt no scorn for the prince who, against all counsel, embarked on such a reckless course. Instead, he admired the prince’s courage and willingness to lead from the front.

With the tiger tally in hand, Third Prince could have ordered the Xiliang army to hold Jiangdu to the death, then fled to prefectures or even the capital. While contemptible, it would have been the sound move—preserving oneself for future battles.

Even if, against all odds, the Third Prince succeeded in severing the supply line, he would scarcely escape unscathed. The dying counterattack of Qingqiu’s two hundred thousand would be enough to annihilate Xiliang.

In the Great Zhou, the blood of the imperial kin was markedly different from that of the frontier soldiers. Should the Third Prince perish at the Wei River, even in victory, Chu Jiangye himself would share his fate.

Still, Third Prince chose to make a desperate stand, rekindling hope in Chu Jiangye and every Xiliang soldier.

He may not be a wise ruler, but if his father were still alive, he would surely follow him. With a commander like this, Xiliang’s soldiers would die without hesitation.

This battle, destined to offer no return, was about to unfold.

Chu Jiangye sighed silently; alas, the long-awaited triumph would not come for these dying men.

Heaven and earth were vast; the gathering mist met distant hills, and a sense of desolation filled the air.

Suddenly, Chu Jiangye heard hoofbeats—a squad of Xiliang scouts returning. Their horses raced so fast they left afterimages, seeming to have witnessed something extraordinary.

"Report!"

The call for a report came in quick succession.

"Speak!" The adjutant beside him, equally uneasy, tugged the reins and signaled for the march to halt.

The scouts caught their breath, then said:

"General, Qingqiu’s troops are less than ten miles from us, but their formation is in chaos, their fighting spirit gone, they seem utterly broken!"

"Why?" The adjutant stroked his beard. "Is it an intentional ruse?"

"No!" another scout answered, "Qingqiu’s supply lines have been cut, all their granaries are ablaze—His Highness has won a great victory!"

---

Chu Jiangye finally understood the meaning behind the words in the letter.

No wonder the strategic advice was meant for a pursuing army with the upper hand; Third Highness had foreseen this moment from the start, which explained his unprecedented confidence.

Never had there been such a beautiful victory. Chu Jiangye tucked away the tiger tally, raised his silver spear, and shouted:

"Qingqiu’s lifeline is severed—attack!"

The crimson banners billowed, and the shouts shook the heavens.

In the leaden clouds above, it seemed a mighty storm was brewing.

---

Su Zhiqiu stood before a man-sized wooden chest, gazing at the fine ice coffin within.

The person inside had died from an arrow to the throat, but their features remained clear.

The tall Qingqiu Princess scrutinized the coffin’s contents and the two figures before her, patting her palms with some puzzlement.

"Who is this?"

Pei Xiunian replied gravely, "The arsonist—Li Xiunian."

Su Zhiqiu covered her lips and laughed softly, "You humans are truly filthy in your games!"

She understood at once: the one in the ice coffin was clearly the Third Prince’s double, a plausible reason for her army of two hundred thousand to retreat.

How did he die? Threatened all the way to the border, finally killed and brought back—dead men tell no tales.

He looked identical; how could Qingqiu distinguish an enemy prince? Hardly likely.

"Same goes for you. Your demon clan is no cleaner," Pei Xiunian replied with a bow, "Both sides have their share—what’s the point of debating who’s dirtier?"

Su Zhiqiu’s fox eyes narrowed in surprise, "So you knew all along?"

Indeed, she had been tricked.

No wonder she believed so readily when led toward the idea of an insider; her side already had one. Pei Xiunian did not dwell on it but suppressed his thoughts with a hint of mockery.

"I’ve always said Great Zhou and Qingqiu are two sides of the same coin. If your siblings wish to kill you, surely mine wish to kill me. I set out, you crossed the Wei; if I lose Xiangyang, I die. The cards are all on the table, aren’t they?"

The fox Princess perched atop the desk, legs crossed, sipping cold tea. "Your Highness plots so masterfully—anyone who opposes you is doomed."

Pei Xiunian made no comment. Now he was certain: someone not only colluded with Qingqiu but sought to eliminate the obscure Third Prince. He had to be on guard.

But to deal with the mastermind, he first needed to know who it was. Pei Xiunian still had no access to the court, a consequence of lacking allies—there was nowhere to begin investigating.

He could not predict when someone might stab him in the back.

His predicament was far worse than this infamous fox with her legion of followers…

Su Zhiqiu clearly paid him no mind, pondering for a moment before asking, "If Your Highness gives me the double, does that mean you won’t command Xiliang’s army any longer?"

If he continued to lead, it would only take days before scouts discovered the truth, and her words would collapse. If he returned to the capital, months or even years might pass before an undercover meeting confirmed his survival; by then, her position would be firmly secured, with no risk of impeachment.

"Yes."

Pei Xiunian nodded slightly, "With Qingqiu’s retreat, the court will reclaim lost territory and reinforce the borders—tedious work. Besides, commanding troops isn’t my strength. This time, I was forced onto the battlefield merely to protect myself."

---

Su Zhiqiu, still seated on the desk, clasped her hands, legs swaying gently as she murmured, "What a pity."

Pei Xiunian glanced, impassive, at the pale calf glimpsed beneath her golden silk armor, and drew out the pill once more.

"Well then, will Your Highness swallow the pill?"

"Why the rush?"

The moon had set. After a long night of confidential conversation, an understanding akin to "secure the home before repelling the enemy" had been reached, and relations had grown more cordial.

The Qingqiu Princess’s mood relaxed, returning to her alluring demeanor. The seductive fox leaned close to Pei Xiunian’s ear, her breath fragrant as orchids.

"Do you wish to sleep with your elder sister?"

Pei Xiunian’s throat worked; his fist clenched behind his back, his eyes regaining clarity.

Had he not constantly kept his golden finger in check, he might have faltered. One could never relax when facing these foxes.

To claim he did not desire her would be a lie, but if he succumbed now, he would likely gain nothing but a slave’s mark.

Damn it—his lack of cultivation was truly a hindrance.

Seeing Pei Xiunian unmoved, Su Zhiqiu sighed softly, "Your Highness’s cultivation is remarkable. Though it’s my first time using this innate charm, it’s far beyond any ordinary powder or paint… Alas…"

She said no more, lowered her head, took the pill from Pei Xiunian’s hand with her lips, raised her eyes to meet his, and brushed her waterfall of blue-black hair behind her ear before swallowing with a soft "gulp."

Afterward, she opened her mouth wide—"Ah—"—her eyes curved in a smile, "I swallowed it all~"

Pei Xiunian found the scene familiar, but Su Zhiqiu seemed not to be acting deliberately. Raising her delicate head once more, she smiled and asked,

"Are you not afraid I am a double as well?"

Pei Xiunian truly was not; since negotiations began, the outcomes ranged only from great victory to moderate or minor win.

Would she take the pill? Who would take it? Would it work?

None of it mattered. As long as she withdrew her army, Great Zhou would be sliding across the grass, kissing the medal in celebration.

Pei Xiunian decided to lay his cards on the table, speaking plainly:

"In truth, I’m a double myself. My name is Pei Xiunian—the one in the coffin is the Third Prince. I killed him days ago and took his place."

Su Zhiqiu was amused, laughing so hard her gorgeous figure shook with delight.

Then the Princess declared,

"Very well, 'Pei Xiunian,' you are indeed interesting. But next time we meet, I will certainly kill you."

From afar came the clang of a golden gong, followed by the disordered sounds of marching troops.

The fox Princess landed barefoot on the windowsill, the documents piled atop the desk turning to ash. The teapot lifted itself, pouring a cup of tea.

Threads of true energy wrapped around the coffin, as she leapt from the watchtower, taking it with her.