Chapter 21

Today, the sky was overcast. The winter sun hid behind a thin veil of clouds, visible only as a piercing white halo.

A procession of carriages and horses traveled along a winding dirt path skirting the fields. Upon reaching the foot of the mountain, even the lightest carriages could go no further, so Xun Rongbi switched to a sedan chair.

Xie Ci lifted the curtain, steadied Xun Rongbi with one hand as he stepped carefully down the carriage steps, and helped him into a wicker chair beside the path.

Once outside the city, the northwestern wind grew suddenly fierce, whipping their cloaks into the air. Xie Ci returned to the carriage to fetch a thick woolen blanket, wrapping it snugly around Xun Rongbi’s frail, stooped frame.

From beneath the blanket, Xun Rongbi extended a hand to clasp Xie Ci’s, gently feeling it. “Are you cold? Put on another layer.”

Xie Ci was not dressed warmly—a black captain’s armor beneath a thick crimson cloak, the wind tossing it about to reveal the broad shoulders, slender waist, and long, powerful legs sheathed in black mail. His hand was warm; youth and vigor burned in his veins.

Today, Xun Rongbi’s expression was more somber than usual, yet as he looked up at Xie Ci in that moment, a deep and affectionate smile softened his face. “You’ve grown up, Xiao Si. Soon you’ll stand on your own.”

“Yes.”

Xun Rongbi patted his hand in satisfaction. Xie Ci returned the grip, saying, “So, uncle, you must take care of yourself. When I’ve achieved something, I’ll be good to you.” Xun Rongbi was delighted. “Good, good!”

He nodded with a mixture of joy and sorrow, gazing toward the distant mountains as if to steady his emotions. “Let’s go.”

“All right. Uncle, if you’re cold, let me know.”

Xie Ci tucked Xun Rongbi’s hand back under the blanket, slung another over his own saddle, and mounted his horse. Two personal guards lifted the sedan, and the party continued along the mountain path toward the burial ground.

The grave of Xun Xiao was deep in the mountains, said to be on a sunny slope. But today, there was no sunlight; even the halo had vanished behind thick clouds. In the bleak winter month, all things lay silent—the earth and mountains brown and yellow, the trees black and bare, scattered patches of old snow covering the ground.

The northwestern wind was biting and dry, growing even sharper as they entered the mountains. The sounds of farmers covering their fields with wheat stalks faded behind them. The mountains were cold and silent; only the crack and snap of wind breaking dry twigs could be heard.

Xie Ci surveyed the path ahead, every muscle in his back and arms tensed even more than before.

The procession moved on. The mountain trail was narrow, Xun Rongbi’s sedan chair ahead of him. As they started forward, the smile faded from Xie Ci’s lips, and the warmth in his eyes vanished as well.

In truth, at this moment, Xie Ci was more alert and guarded than ever; his vigilance had reached its peak upon entering the mountains.

Though he had just tended to his uncle with apparent care and shared a tender conversation, his back muscles had been taut the entire time.

In such circumstances, reason easily overpowers emotion. Ever since leaving the city, caution had quietly overtaken his heart. Xie Ci had no wish to die—and could not. His father and brother’s deaths remained unjustified; they waited for him to clear their names. He had only just begun to probe into these matters.

He could die—but only after all was done, never now! Gu Wan was still waiting for him.

His mother, his family, his father and brother, Gu Wan—the weight of his whole family pressed upon him, and in an instant, that burden overcame all else.

His uncle’s kindly face and gentle words were close at hand, yet Xie Ci’s heart was half burning, half cold, his whole being trembling with intense emotion and the possibility of deadly peril.

It felt as if something was churning in his chest, grinding him down, yet another part of him was exceptionally calm. In this clash of fire and ice, he was like a bow drawn to its limit.

—If this was a trap, what should he do?

Xie Ci’s dark eyes slowly turned, taking in the brown and snowy undulating hills, the black, gnarled branches, the clumps of yellowed thornbushes, and, at the farthest edge of vision, a few scattered evergreens. The winter mountains of Suzhou were as desolate and somber as ever, just as he remembered.

If this truly was a trap, he thought, he should act first, choose the most advantageous spot, and break the snare before being dragged into an ambush.

The mountain wind howled, cold to the bone. For a moment, Xie Ci’s blood seemed to boil. He clenched his fists tightly. If he was simply being paranoid, he would kneel in apology after this day, confess every dark suspicion to his uncle, beg forgiveness, and accept whatever punishment was meted out—be it beatings or scoldings, he would endure it all!

But if not...

His hand moved to his waist, gripping the hilt of his blade tightly. Events unfolded even faster than he’d imagined.

Of course, Xun Xiao’s grave could not be deep within the wilderness. The Xun clan’s ancestral home was in Haozhou, but they had long been rooted in Suzhou. Like other generals who had fallen in Suzhou, Xun Xiao was buried in the soldiers’ cemetery.

His tomb was in the new eastern section, at the highest, outermost edge. A sheer cliff rose to the west, its pines twisted and strong, the winter wind howling fiercely along the precipice.

To the east lay the newer and older graves, circled by evergreens. Looking from Xun Xiao’s grave eastward, to the west was a hollow, like the bottom of a bowl, encircled by hills.

After the rites, one had to wait for the incense to burn out. Xun Rongbi, frail as he was, would need a rest. That wind-sheltered hollow was the perfect spot for a break.

The journey was far shorter than expected—barely the time of a cup of tea. As Xie Ci rode up to the cemetery, a sweep of his eyes caught the hollow immediately.

The sky was gloomy, the thorns rustled, and the western mountains gaped wide like a silent, open maw. Xie Ci’s hair stood on end.

The Xie family’s military instincts were innate. He whipped his head around. The guards were dismounting, some sweeping the graves, some setting up incense and offerings. The rest, as on the road, had formed up in a protective cordon.

Their movements pressed upon his heart.

Xie Ci looked up sharply. Ahead and to the side was Long Shouren, behind him the howling wind and the cliff, which stretched up dozens of yards, a solitary pine at its crest, beyond which the cloud-churned gray sky loomed.

A lone wild goose flapped its wings, flying south alone.

Without hesitation, Xie Ci drew the longbow from his saddle, nocked an arrow, and—thwack!—let it fly at the goose.

A sharp sound—bullseye!

—Whether the split arrow or the tossed cup, both were well-known signals in the army to begin an attack. If this was a ruse, these apparently relaxed guards would be as tense as he was, ready for anything.

With Xie Ci’s arrow, the guards instinctively straightened, brooms pausing, incense and offerings tumbling to the ground, some even reaching unconsciously for their weapon hilts before hurriedly relaxing.

Everyone froze for a heartbeat, then resumed their tasks as if nothing had happened.

“Xiao Si, what are you doing?”

Xun Rongbi, currently rising from the wicker chair with help from his guards, paused as a thick black fox-fur cloak was fastened around his neck.

His upward glance halted, and he turned to look at Xie Ci.

Staring at that familiar yet subtly changed, kindly old face, a chill grew in Xie Ci’s heart, slowly encasing it.

He shifted; his black horse pawed uneasily, stepping west. Xie Ci reined in, and the horse, after a shrill whinny, finally settled. In truth, Xie Ci had edged closer to the cliff’s base.

He said to Xun Rongbi, “A lone goose cries over the grave—not auspicious. My cousin was a warrior; surely he wouldn’t mind the sight of blood.”

“Is that so?”

Xun Rongbi’s smile stiffened, his kindly expression waxen.

After this exchange, an indescribable tension filled the air between them. In the next instant, the truth was revealed.

Someone clapped their hands. A mellow male voice said, “Enough talk. Do it!”

At the command, dozens of guards and soldiers dropped what they were holding and, with a collective hiss, drew their swords, rapidly closing in a circle.

At the edge, a tall, unremarkable guard peeled away a fake beard and grime, wiped off powder, and revealed his true face.

Tall and well-built, his stride measured and confident, with sharp, hawk-like features, he was twenty-five or twenty-six, a faintly lifted brow, moving from the rear to the center as men parted for him. Soon he stood at the core, commanding all.

This was none other than Xie Ci’s true second cousin, Xun Xun!

With a wave of his hand, beyond the immediate area—outside the range of any human ear—some seventy or eighty men in tight black garb began charging in.

So Xun Xun had prepared a deadly arrow formation in the western hollow, determined to kill Xie Ci. Pity it wouldn’t be used, but the ambush was only insurance. Since it wasn’t needed now, it could be set aside.

Xun Xun’s features were sharp and cold, and everyone obeyed his direction, except for a few old guards Xie Ci recognized from his uncle’s side, who now drew swords and clustered tightly around Xun Rongbi, weapons raised not only against Xie Ci but also warily against the other guards.

In a heartbeat, the kindly-faced uncle and soft words vanished into dire peril.

It happened in a single breath.

On seeing Xun Xun, Xie Ci was shocked and enraged. In that moment, everything became clear.

He turned with a stiff, stricken anger to look at Xun Rongbi—his uncle, as dear as a father. His voice was hoarse: Why?

He and Gu Wan had scrutinized it all; the shackles on Xun Rongbi’s wrists, the wounds of a prisoner, were not faked. He had truly been locked in a sealed room, half-dead.

To set such a trap, the sacrifice was immense. Could he have foreseen, more than a year ago, that Xie Ci would one day escape prison?

But none of this confusion could compare to the overwhelming sense of betrayal and bitterness that flooded him. Even with all his mental preparation and firing the arrow himself, when the moment came, Xie Ci still could not believe it.

A tidal wave of fury crashed over him; he was like a wounded lone wolf, eyes red with rage.

—It was all to lure out the last of the Xie family!

Xie Ci roared: Why? Tell me why?!

Why did you frame my father and brother?!

The Xie clan was already destroyed—wasn’t killing me enough? Why must you wipe us out completely?!

Isn’t my mother your own sister by blood? Weren’t you the one who traveled a thousand miles in haste just to see her, to make sure she was truly safe and happy?

Xie Ci had never forgotten: when he was small, running down the corridor, his mother had just given birth to his brother. Men weren’t allowed inside, but he saw his uncle standing beneath the window, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the lamplight within, though he knew he couldn’t see anything.

That moment—the strong figure in black armor, the cautious, caring gesture, the lantern casting a warm glow over him—Xie Ci would remember forever.

Because of moments like these, though Xie Ci was always alert, he could never truly believe his uncle would betray the Xie family.

As he searched along the way, a small part of his heart was taken up with thoughts of how he would apologize to his uncle afterward, how to make amends, how not to hurt the old man.

Xie Ci’s hatred was absolute.

Xun Rongbi’s face darkened; he did not answer. His gaze was evasive and fierce as he turned away from Xie Ci’s eyes.

“I’ll tell you,” Xun Xun sneered, his gaze piercing through the crowd at Xie Ci, but also at the aging, drooping figure of Xun Rongbi. “It’s simple—mutual benefit. I still need him to serve as governor of Suzhou for another two years, and he wants a comeback. That’s all.”

“He wrote the letter. He met the envoy.”

It was just a contest of father and son, and he’d lost again.

“He had no choice! Your uncle—what matters most in his heart has always been himself!”

Yes, he loved his sister and nephew, and was close as family to the Xies, but in the end, nothing outweighed his own interests!

His greatest skill in life was sacrificing kin and friends for his own sake!

Xun Xun scoffed coldly, his voice full of hatred: “Do you know how he returned from captivity in the Northern Court of the Kunyu tribe?”

“He won the favor of Princess Rilian, changed his identity, married her, became a prince consort, and after six years and three children, finally won the king’s trust. And then, within a year, he led the Kunyu army right into a Wei ambush—wiping them out completely!”

“And he killed Princess Rilian with his own hands, and everyone in her palace who knew him, even his own children! He wiped out all witnesses! Then he returned in glory, having suffered seven years of humiliation, and became the celebrated hero Sun Suwu!”

“He returned, stepping over the corpses of the Kunyu and Princess Rilian’s household, a great general of Wei, famed for killing his own wife and children. Isn’t it laughable? Hahaha!”

Even through his hatred, Xie Ci was stunned. He swung around to stare at Xun Rongbi, whose face was twisted with shame and anger.

Could he have refused? Could he have dared to speak out? That was the root of it!

“He’ll betray anyone if it means saving himself—family, friends, old ties mean nothing!”

“Never mind a Xie clan—ten Xie clans, even you, Xie Ci, even if his own sister stood before him, he would kill her without hesitation! Isn’t it ridiculous, Xie Ci? Are you disappointed?”

Xun Xun’s voice was cutting. “There’s no one else to blame—it was him! Without him, this could never have happened. Xie Xinchong would never have led his troops out at night to Lantianyuan!”

Xie Ci stared at Xun Rongbi, whose face shifted from dark to wretched to fierce as he glared at Xun Xun for exposing him. Xie Ci’s heart plummeted into a cold abyss, seething with volcanic fury.

He ground his teeth audibly.

“Well, now you know; you can die understanding. Don’t thank me.” Xun Xun’s laughter cut off abruptly, his face sharp as a blade. “Xie Ci, die! There will be no adult men left of the Xie clan!”

With that, the air before the mound turned murderous.

Xun Xun had chosen only his most elite men, including his own deathsworn and spies—a killing formation.

In the distance, archers appeared along the high edge of the hollow, racing into position. Xie Ci’s shot at the goose had bought himself a brief chance, but he had to escape before the archers arrived.

Otherwise, he was done for.

Hot blood surged to his head, but his mind was icy clear. Before the tomb, a slaughter commenced. With a leap, blood splattered the brown earth.

Under a wheel of attacks, Xie Ci threw back his head and howled, drawing his backup blade with a reverse grip in his left hand. With a metallic clatter, he swept the blade in a wide arc—the blade detached from its hilt, revealing a chain, and swept through the innermost circle, taking seven or eight lives in a single strike.

Blood spurted from severed throats; the air reeked with carnage.

Xie Ci’s backup blade was a chained fly-knife, the hilt and blade joined by a long iron chain. Blades slashed at him, cutting through his leather armor only to reveal three layers of tightly-woven chain mail beneath.

—All materials secretly acquired and modified by Gu Wan from the armory.

Blades scraped the chain mail, sparking faintly but failing to pierce it.

Xie Ci judged swiftly, finishing the inner circle with a howl, then leapt for the cliff’s far side. Long Shouren bit his teeth and swung his great saber to meet him—a shrill clang of metal. Long Shouren’s hands burst open, and, though famed for his strength, the force of Xie Ci’s strike drove him to his knees.

Xie Ci killed him.

Perhaps Long Shouren had once been conflicted, but in the end, he had chosen to assist the wicked, becoming the most effective executioner of Xie Ci and the last of the Xie family.

“You’ve mastered the chain-blade?!”

Xun Xun drew his own sword, shocked and furious. Years ago, Xun Rongbi had hired a proud master to teach Xie Ci; that master’s specialty was the chain-blade, and he had taught only Xie Ci.

And now, Xie Ci not only wielded one but had mastered the technique.

Xun Xun’s mind reeled, but Xie Ci’s blade flashed again, blood spraying. Using Long Shouren’s head as a springboard, Xie Ci vaulted toward the cliff. In midair, he had a brief opening for another strike.

To his left was Xun Xun, to his right, Xun Rongbi. With a fierce cry, Xie Ci swung the chain-blade hard to the right.

Xun Rongbi’s eyes widened. “Kill him! Kill him, now!”

He shoved his bodyguard forward and threw himself back with all his strength. The blade caught him as he fell, cold as snow, and he felt a chill at his throat.

Horror-stricken, Xun Rongbi clutched his neck as hot, sticky blood gushed out. He looked down—his hands were red with blood from his own throat.

Xie Ci’s eyes were sharp as blades—and then the archers arrived.

“Loose!”

Arrows whistled down like rain, swarming as locusts. Even three layers of chain mail could not protect against such a volley—his head and neck were still exposed.

A single barrage would be fatal.

But just then, a clear female voice rang out from the top of the cliff: “Xie Ci, catch!” A supple vine with a cloth loop at its end was thrown down from above.

At the same time, firecrackers and rockets crackled to life, a basketful landing on the ground and spewing black smoke. “Taste my poison smoke!”

The shout startled everyone below; even the archers faltered.

Xie Ci seized the moment, grabbed the vine, and was hauled up to the cliff top.

In a flash, he swung up behind Gu Wan on her horse. She yanked the reins. “Go!” The firecrackers were just a bluff—pine resin and cow dung, nothing deadly.

But it was enough. In the nick of time, Gu Wan had saved him—exhausted but successful.

She wheeled the horse and they galloped away!