Chapter Nine: The Fox Demon, Please Step Forward

Once again, moonlight shrouded the County of Xiangyang.

It was deep into the night.

The Princess of Qingqiu was in no hurry to open the latest military dispatch.

The past several reports from the front line spoke only of the march northward from Xiangyang—an army vast and unstoppable, advancing unimpeded. The Great Zhou seemed to have abandoned any attempt at dividing their forces for interception; not a single cavalry or shock troop had been deployed.

They must intend to stake everything on a final, desperate battle at Jiangdu.

Such preparations, however, were hopelessly late. If the lifeblood of Qingqiu was its supply lines, then that of the Great Zhou was time itself.

Su Zhiqiu braced both hands on the window ledge. Xiangyang had certainly earned its reputation as a strategic stronghold; from the highest watchtower in the county’s east, one could easily gaze over the vast, boundless plains of the Great Zhou.

This dynasty, which had endured for over a thousand years, was far from as withered as it appeared—its strength was hardly less than Qingqiu’s.

But they hesitated, plagued by too many concerns, powerless against Qingqiu’s all-out assault.

Qingqiu’s every move, meanwhile, seemed to transcend ordinary stratagem, ghostly and unpredictable.

The Great Zhou’s armies had no recourse but to retreat, but this was likely the final battle, for the Western Liang forces had nowhere left to withdraw.

Su Zhiqiu slowly sat down, unsealing the dispatch in the moonlight, though her thoughts were far from its contents.

The Western Liang army…

Once, they had been a cavalry to astound the world. This battle was sure to be brutal—just like the flames now flickering on the horizon… Flames?

Suddenly, Su Zhiqiu sprang to her feet. Looking out from the watchtower, she saw a spark ignite in the distance, growing rapidly into a blazing inferno. Then, in another vital position, fire broke out as well…

To the west of Xiangyang, flames emerged in the endless night like stars and moons.

Chaos erupted within the county—hurried footsteps and shouts resounded.

A demon soldier rushed up the tower and knelt in the courtyard, shivering all over.

“Your Highness, I report… our three supply depots have been set ablaze, and the central granary outside the county has not been spared either. All our supply lines… have been cut off…”

Su Zhiqiu had already guessed as much; the fires at those locations could mean only one thing. She slammed her hands on the table, her voice icy:

“Thousands of troops were stationed at each depot, and yet not a single countermeasure? With so many scouts monitoring the enemy, how could the Western Liang army pull off such a feat?”

“It… it was not the Western Liang army. It was… several volunteer forces led by martial artists. We do not know how they learned our supply routes. Even our scouts received no sign of their movements—they seemed to appear out of thin air!”

Su Zhiqiu glanced at the dispatch under her hand; its message was brief: “Frontline scouts report Western Liang army has broken camp.”

“Retreat at once!” Su Zhiqiu’s foxlike eyes flew wide, a chill gripping her heart. “Send word through the swift messengers—order the army to fall back to Xiangyang. There is still grain here; we may yet negotiate…”

“Loose arrows!”

The clang of the alarm bell mingled with shouts below. Su Zhiqiu saw lanterns spring to life throughout the county, mirroring the flames behind.

The twang of bowstrings echoed. She saw, outside the walls, a white horse caught in a rain of arrows.

“Report!” Another demon soldier burst through the door, stumbling breathlessly. “Your Highness, the Third Prince of Great Zhou requests an audience.”

Su Zhiqiu was taken aback. “How many soldiers has he brought?”

“Your Highness, none. Only a single female companion at his side.”

—

When the distant flames came into faint view, Pei Xiunian knew their operation was a resounding success. Without delay, he and Jiang Yunhe spurred their horses toward Xiangyang.

The demon soldiers guarding the county, however, were clearly shaken by the simultaneous infernos that had erupted at their supply depots. Though Pei Xiunian rode alone, he was met only with a dense volley of arrows.

Fortunately, there was Jiang Yunhe.

It was from her that Pei Xiunian truly glimpsed a corner of this world of immortals and heroes.

Dressed in white as pure as snow, Jiang Yunhe did not even draw her sword. A single graceful movement of her slender hand unleashed sword energy that swept forth, slicing through the air like a breeze.

The arrows fell like rain, only to shatter, split, and dissolve in that wind, as if a trifling snowfall had passed.

Pei Xiunian watched the arrows veer off and embed themselves deep in the trees behind. Any one of those, had it struck him, would have spelled his ruin.

He turned to Jiang Yunhe—the blindfolded, white-haired girl seemed to “look” back at him.

Only then did the demon soldiers on the wall recover and shout, “Open the gates!”

The battered red doors swung open. Qingqiu’s garrison was assembled, solemn in bearing. When their eyes fell upon the mysterious, ornate wooden chest strapped to Pei Xiunian’s steed, their vigilance intensified.

“Your Highness, we await your command. The Princess is on the tower, awaiting you,” the officer saluted and led the way.

A prince of Great Zhou, escorted by enemy soldiers to meet their commander in his own land—Pei Xiunian found the irony striking.

Within the occupied county, he was surprised to see so few ruins; most buildings remained intact, only deserted.

The tower stood near the east gate, and in less than a quarter of an hour, they arrived at its base. Before ascending, the officer, unable to resist, pointed to the ornate chest and asked:

“Dare I ask, Your Highness, what is this?”

Pei Xiunian smiled lightly, “I am here to negotiate peace. Naturally, this is a gift.”

Jiang Yunhe was about to follow Pei Xiunian up the tower, but he said, “Miss Jiang, please wait below. I may need your help bringing this item up later.”

Jiang Yunhe nodded without a word, quietly standing by the white horse.

The Qingqiu guard eyed the wooden chest warily, clearly suspecting it to be a deadly weapon, and kept a full ten feet away from Jiang Yunhe, cold sweat beading on his brow.

Just then, the white horse snorted and kicked, making the officer flinch in fright.

The stairs and rooms within the tower were deserted. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows as Pei Xiunian climbed to the top floor. The door stood open.

Moonlight spilled over the windowsill, illuminating a pair of long, jade-like legs, extending down to feet as pale and lustrous as mutton-fat jade.

At last, he beheld the supreme commander of Qingqiu’s two hundred thousand demon troops… or rather, her legs.

“That the Third Prince himself would come to Xiangyang—truly, I did not expect it~”

That sultry, bewitching voice drew Pei Xiunian’s eyes upward, where the candlelight revealed the foxlike beauty of Su Zhiqiu.

This fox spirit’s beauty alone was enough to topple kingdoms, to say nothing of her breathtaking figure… What on earth was that distracting shape?

With effort, Pei Xiunian forced himself to look away, steadying his mind. “Your Highness, please conduct yourself with dignity. We are both reasonable people. Let us speak plainly—I have come to negotiate peace.”

“Oh?”

A hint of surprise flickered in Su Zhiqiu’s eyes. Whether she was startled by his disregard for her innate charms or puzzled by his purpose, she asked softly:

“You cut off several of Qingqiu’s supply lines with your cavalry, leaving me isolated and besieged, and yet you come to talk peace?”

“I do have conditions of my own,” Pei Xiunian replied, smiling. From the storage pouch at his waist, he withdrew a medicine bottle, poured out a single pill, and said slowly, “As long as Your Highness takes this pill, I swear on my life that your two hundred thousand troops can withdraw from Yunchuan unharmed—not a single soldier lost.”

“And what is this?” Su Zhiqiu did not answer immediately. She fixed her foxlike gaze on the pill in Pei Xiunian’s palm, her eyes narrowing.

The demon race was never skilled in alchemy, and even as Qingqiu’s princess, Su Zhiqiu knew little of such things. Yet instinct warned her that the pill in Pei Xiunian’s hand was extremely dangerous.

Pei Xiunian seemed pleased with her caution. The corners of his lips curved, his eyes rising as he invented a name for the pill:

“The Heart’s Will Pill.”