Chapter 118: with translation of chapter title

When we returned to Trade Prosperity City, the sky had already darkened. Wei Lingfeng urged us to simply pack our belongings; tomorrow we will head to Establish Enterprise City southwest of Mist Capital City, preparing to besiege Mist Capital. The second of the three formations to be killed/surrendered is about to begin.

"Miss, Miss!" Hearing that call, I knew it could only be one person, and I couldn't help but smile, saying, "Xinhui, what's wrong?"

Xinhui paid no heed to my pleasant expression, her face full of panic, her breathing rapid, startling me. I heard her, voice trembling with tears, say: "Miss, Thus Character: Thus Character: Luofeng has woken up. But… but he doesn't recognize me, he drove me away, and even said… even said he hates me. Wuwu… Miss, what should I do?"

"Don't panic, Xinhui." I took a deep breath, grasped her icy, sweat-damp hand, and headed toward Xinluo's quarters—what needed to be faced would have to be faced. I had actually guessed seven or eight tenths already, yet I still couldn't help but feel deflated. Xinluo, you actually don't even recognize your older sister?

As the door was pushed open, a palpable chill and killing intent came straight at us. I merely felt a slight jolt in my heart, nothing more, but Xinhui, having lost all her martial arts, trembled violently all over, her face deathly pale.

I silently sighed, quietly circulated my mental method, my breath flowing, turning the neither-cold-nor-heat true qi into substance and releasing it to oppose. Although my inner strength was not as pure and profound as Xinluo's, it still slightly hindered the effect; Xinhui's complexion improved considerably, the sorrow in her eyes becoming even more unfathomable than before.

Entering this tastefully decorated room, I lifted the bamboo curtain, and finally saw that familiar, slender, cool figure.

"Xinluo." I swallowed my sigh entirely and called out softly.

Xinluo didn't turn his head, propping his chin as he sat by the window, his delicate, pretty childlike face expressionless as he gazed outside. From behind, one might mistake him for a pure teenager troubled by adolescent worries, sitting stiffly in thought; but once you meet his eyes—deep as a cold pool, silver‑gold twin pupils—and notice the faint, almost imperceptible cold smile at the corner of his mouth, you realize this person is not to be underestimated.

"Miss, what excuse have you come up with this time to apologize to me?"

His cool voice reached my ears; I started, then came to my senses, lifting my eyes to catch a faint mockery in his gaze, and the deep‑seated loneliness and arrogance within it—I couldn't help but feel sorrow and regret.

I drew a deep breath, looked at him with a calm expression, and said: "Xinluo, let's have a match. If I lose, I'll leave it to you to decide. If you lose, you must forgive Xinhui."

"Miss!!" Xinhui cried out, grabbing my sleeve, her face filled with anxious grief, on the verge of tears.

I placed my hand over her cold palm, gave a reassuring smile, then looked at Xinluo's astonished expression and couldn't help but say, "What, are you scared?"

Xinluo's silver‑gold eyes flashed, and he sneered, "Since you know my brother is dead, you should realize that all his power has now gathered in me. Not only you, but even Xiao Qiran, without resorting to tricks, could not easily defeat me!"

Seeing him speak of Qiran with indignation, I knew clearly that that day in Yinwing City, Qiran, worried for my and Bubu's safety, must have used some less-than-honorable means to capture him. Thus, I really am overestimating myself.

I smiled and said, "How would you know without trying? Since Qiran can use tricks, who's to say I wouldn't as well?"

Xinluo glanced at me contemptuously, evidently saying, "Even if you use tricks, what good would it do?"

I paid no heed, taking from my bosom a crystal‑clear red jade flute—the Blood Flute—with one hand I flicked it aside, and a chilling blade emerged. I raised my head, expression indifferent, and said: "You surely know this flute, don't you? It is the true Blood Flute that unleashes the ultimate tomb‑worm. The blade inside was installed by Qiran's order, then given to me for self‑defense."

A strange light flickered in Xinluo's eyes, his expression grew considerably more solemn; he evidently recalled the owner of another Blood Flute. Though his face remained calm, a pain of having weathered many vicissitudes flashed in his eyes.

Yet when he spoke, his voice remained indifferent and cool: "Miss, have you decided to duel here?"

I gave a wry smile, unsure whether it was for his pained eyes or my own, and said in a low voice: "My martial arts excel in close combat—you know that well, Xinluo—so an open field would be less advantageous than this small room. Moreover… if we truly went outside, we probably couldn't duel at all."

He curled the corner of his mouth, rose to his feet, a silver flash in his hand—his spear was already in hand. His gaze toward me grew ever more contemptuous; I knew he understood my meaning, yet felt helpless. If we left this house and let Qiran or Bubu know I was recklessly challenging the Ice‑Ling Guardians, I suppose…

"Miss, Thus Character: Thus Character: Luofeng… why, why must we kill each other?" Xinhui covered her face and slumped to the ground, weeping: "Why… why… weren't we all fine? You've come back, Miss, and Thus Character: Thus Character: Luofeng is safe and sound…"

Scorching tears seeped from between her fingers, dropping one by one onto the floor. I focused my gaze on Xinluo's every thought, and indeed I saw a flash of anguished longing in his eyes, which quickly faded, replaced by bone‑deep hatred; his voice remained indifferent, chilling: "Older sister, the Thus Character: Thus Character: Luofeng you speak of died the moment he killed his brother with his own hands—he can never return."

The sobbing was suppressed, yet to my ears it only sounded more grievous. I sighed, circulated my inner breath; my true qi boiled forth from within like substance, warm on the left, icy on the right, they swayed and merged in the air, finally fusing into one, carrying a stern aura that twined around me. I said: "Xinluo, let's begin."

A flicker of surprise crossed Xinluo's eyes, then vanished; he gripped his spear tightly, his body swayed slightly, and he already lunged toward me.

Seeing that slender, azure‑tinged figure hurtle forward with the force of a thousand jin, I did not dodge or evade, raising the flute to block. I heard a crisp clang of metal and jade, and a scorching surge of true qi followed the Blood Flute into my limbs and bones, my meridians feeling as if they were being roasted in an oil pan, burning so intensely I could scarcely endure it—yet a thread of bone‑chilling icy counter‑current mingled within that red heat, penetrating my heart vessels. I knew Xinluo's killing intent was genuine; if I allowed that icy true qi to seep into my heart, even if Qiran rushed over, he could not save me in time.

A tangible gleam flashed in my eyes; I gritted my teeth, enduring the alternating cold‑hot torment within, flipped the Blood Flute, and with an unimaginable arc deflected his spear's tip, striking my chest but not penetrating. A spiral of alternating cold‑hot energy erupted, using the Blood Flute as medium. With a deafening boom, I felt a pang in my chest, yet all my strength vanished, and we both flew backward.

My body slammed heavily against the wall's edge; I heard Xinhui's startled cry. I knew, however, that this impact, though seeming severe, actually canceled the attack I had suffered, simultaneously giving me time to buffer and expel the lingering foreign true qi from my body. A surge of qi and blood roiled in my chest; I gripped the Blood Flute with one hand, leaned against the wall, and forced myself to stand, silently regulating my breath.

Xinluo had retreated a few steps less than I; he stopped before hitting the table's edge, yet the flash of crimson on his face told me he was no better off than I.

He stared at me steadily, his silver‑gold eyes filled with uncertainty; after a long while he asked: "Just half a month ago, you couldn't withstand a single blow. Miss, how did you manage this?"

I held the Blood Flute horizontally before my chest, expression calm, and said: "In fact, half a month ago I was already able to wield this inner power with ease—" I paused, not wanting to admit I didn't wish to use my newly comprehended internal cultivation method to fight him to the death, and only said: "Because this internal art is suited only for duels between masters; when facing tens of thousands of soldiers in a siege, it merely shortens one's lifespan needlessly."

That statement is indeed true. My inner strength largely comes from Qiran and Bubu; their true qi—one warm, one cold—though not mutually exclusive ice and fire, still belong to mutually generating and overcoming forces, so previously I could never wield them with ease. This cold‑hot spiral inner power stimulation is something I cultivated in modern times during idle moments, circulating my inner qi, repeatedly practicing and trying, slowly condensing it.

Although using it may greatly deplete my true essence afterward, it does indeed grant me the strength to briefly contend with a top‑tier expert.

I stepped forward two paces, my qi firmly locking onto him; both of us became wary, killing intent radiating. I then casually asked: "Xinluo, what did Xiaochi say before he died?"

Xinluo's expression visibly shook, his eyes clouding with bewilderment. I thought, now is the moment! My form shifted like a phantom, sliding and leaping, and in an instant I stood behind him; the blade of the Blood Flute flashed with a chilling light, slicing toward his jade‑like neck.

"Miss—don't!!" Xinhui's hoarse, exhausted scream rang out, but I could only turn a deaf ear.

A faint cold smile curled Xinluo's lip, yet he made no move to turn; his pair of pale small hands transformed into boundless snowy shadows, lunging at me head‑on. My heart leapt; I hastily raised a hand to block, only to feel excruciating pain in my wrist—though my true qi shielded me, it could not withstand that innate divine strength.

In the blink of an eye, the small room filled with flashing blades and sword light, the bamboo curtain shaking violently. We exchanged only twenty‑odd moves, each one perilous, genuine, hard‑on‑hard. Seeing that I was fundamentally no match for him and had no chance to launch a counter‑offensive, I panicked, withdrew and fled backward, raising the Blood Flute to fend off the onslaught of his palm shadows.

At that very instant, his silver‑gold pupils suddenly flashed with a strange light, captivating the soul. Having dealt with Thus Character: Thus Character: Luofeng for so long, I naturally knew this was when he tapped his innate extraordinary endowment, greatly boosting his power—I could not help but be greatly alarmed.

Suddenly, the Blood Flute produced an endless adhesive force; my body, which had been retreating, was actually dragged back by it. I struggled to fling off the flute, which clung to me like a poisonous snake, but could not; in my panic, even my protective true qi became disordered, and I watched helplessly as that illusory spear lunged toward my chest.

I had never imagined dying in a duel with Xinluo, but even now, at this moment, I felt not the slightest regret. My heart was peaceful and tranquil, without a ripple. I don't know why, but even Qiran and Bubu didn't come to mind. My eyes slowly closed, and the corner of my mouth curled into a faint smile.

"Older brother—" Xinluo's voice, filled with bewilderment and heartache, reached my ears.

No piercing pain came; instead I heard a clang, opened my eyes, and saw the spear fallen to the ground, the terrified Xinhui unable to move, and Xinluo wearing an expression of anguish and panic.

"Older brother, why didn't you dodge? Wuwu…" Xinluo suddenly collapsed to the ground and burst into tears: "Why didn't you avoid it? You could have won; clearly I should have been the one to die… wuwu…"

My whole body sore and weak, I practically crawled to Xinluo's side, clung tightly to him, and whispered softly: "It's all right! It's all right! Xinluo, everything is over now!"

Suddenly a sharp pain struck my abdomen, then my chest and legs were subjected to merciless kicks and blows; I merely gritted my teeth and held on to him, refusing to let go. Xinluo beat me while shrieking hysterically: "I don't want your pity—get lost, get out! Brother… brother shed so much blood… Xinluo kept calling and calling, Miss, save my brother! Miss, Xinluo will behave from now on, as long as you save my brother! But no one paid attention to me—sister abandoned me, miss abandoned me, even brother abandoned me, the whole world abandoned me! Wuwu…"

"Sorry! Sorry! Xinluo!" I clung tightly to the kicking him, held fast, tears dripping down. I heard Xinhui's broken sobs, then she crawled over on hands and feet, tightly embracing Xinluo's trembling body, refusing to let go.

After crying for a long time, we finally cried ourselves out; the room was filled with low whimpers, as if the recent blade and sword flashes were merely illusory. I slowly rose to my feet, looking at Xinluo's tear‑streaked cheeks yet his face set in stubborn resentment, and at Xinhui clinging desperately to him, unwilling to release. I slowly raised my right hand, lowered it, and a thin‑as‑a‑cicada's‑wing dagger slid out from my sleeve into my palm.

The blade glinted green, my expression cold; the sharp edge was already pressed against Xinluo's neck, the cold light reflecting off his pale collarbone, looking extraordinarily ferocious.

"Miss, what are you doing?" Xinhui looked at me, startled and doubtful.

I gave no reply, my gaze fixed solely on Xinluo, and said calmly: "Xinluo, you lost."

Xinluo's whole body shuddered; his pallid little face lifted, his thoughts complex as he regarded me. I gave a faint smile, sheathed the knife, turned, and departed.

Upon reaching the doorway, I still couldn't help but turn back and say, "Don't forget our promise."

"Ah—" Xinhui's startled cry came. I gave a faint smirk, pulled open the door and stepped out, thinking: I had originally wanted to win by my own strength, but who knew I'd have to resort to deceit—truly embarrassing.

Outside the window, darkness suddenly fell like night's curtain, a moonlight as fine as silver sand made me pause involuntarily; unsurprisingly, I saw that tall, handsome silhouette.

I smiled sincerely and said: "As expected, I can't hide it from you. That's probably why I dare to be so arrogant."

Qiran's face, originally holding back anger and worry, finally relaxed a bit upon hearing my words; he helplessly drew me into his embrace and whispered a reproach: "Do you know just how dangerous that was? Even if I were outside the window, I might not be able to rescue you in time!"

"Mm, I won't take risks lightly again…" I leaned against that fresh, warm embrace, feeling my bodily aches and the fatigue from depleted true qi surge wave after wave; since my mind could relax and my body could rely on something, why not? I slowly closed my eyes, surrendered to deep unconsciousness, yet the corner of my mouth curled into a faint smile.

Sigh— Qiran sighed helplessly, picked me up sideways and walked toward our lodgings; his voice grew faint beside my ear: "You always make these insincere promises. Who let it be that I have no way with you?"

On July 25, the first year of Tianhe 1262, having eliminated their rear concerns, Wei Lingfeng and Qiran led a million elite troops to besiege Yinchuan Mist City, while also sweeping and slaughtering the Ice Ling underground forces within the territories of the Qi and Yi kingdoms, as well as the Yin-Ye scouts. Approximately three hundred thousand Yin soldiers and fifty thousand Ye remnants were trapped inside Mist City. As for the strength of Ice Ling in Mist City, it remained unclear.

On August 2, the already scarce grain and water supplies in Mist City dwindled further, while the momentum of those opposing Yin Ziheng within the city grew ever larger. Even many Yin soldiers led their troops to defect and surrender, but all were secretly executed before the mutiny. Xiao Yifei, leveraging the Ice Ling forces, finally passed through numerous checkpoints and sent a distress signal to the Yin Kingdom.

September: Mist City's grain supplies were cut off, starving corpses littered the streets, and its troops could fight no longer, only awaiting the city's fall. Yet Wei Lingfeng slowed the pace of the siege at this time. On September 12, the Yin Kingdom's relief forces broke through the Yinchuang border defenses and rushed to rescue the lord, but were blocked at the main current of the Huai River. Not knowing how to derive it from the strategy I had left him, Wei Lingfeng had people capture several hundred larks, starve them for a day and night. When the Yin relief troops reached the Huai River Long Bridge, he ordered the larks carrying fire kindling in their beaks to be released, flying into the grain and supply wagons. At that time, though the weather was no longer hot, it grew dry; the fire, aided by the wind, swept across heaven and earth, and wails echoed throughout the Huai River. In the end, the bridge collapsed, numerous soldiers fell into the rushing Huai River main current and were swept away. Several fortunate groups that escaped were also subdued by the ambushing Qi troops nearby, with no way to flee. In the early morning of September 13, the fire finally died out; nearly four hundred thousand Yin reinforcements were almost entirely wiped out.

On September 22 of the first year of Tianhe 1262, Yin Ziheng could no longer endure this cat-and-mouse humiliation; he left the city to surrender, but then suddenly launched an attack—only to find Wei Lingfeng had prepared in advance, his ambush forces emerging to encircle Yin Ziheng and several hundred Yin troops with a hundred thousand elite soldiers, leaving their fate out of their hands, and Mist City was simply taken.

Before the melee began, Yin Ziheng, believing Yin Tianxue's words, sought to capture and kill me on the battlefield, threatening Wei Lingfeng in hopes of a lucky escape. Yet he was slain in a single stroke by Bu Sha, who never left my side. The fierceness of his blade, the strength of his strike, filled all who saw him with dread, not daring to step even half a pace. Even the lament over this nation's ruler dying so ignominiously on the battlefield was momentarily forgotten.

At the time, no one would have imagined that the rulers of both the Yin and Ye kingdoms, two generations, would all die at the hands of a single person—how shocking! Thus, when someone began to realize this, besides marveling at the wonder of fate, the name Bu Sha became an immortal legend of the war god on the Tianhe Continent, even a taboo… a… power so great that even gods and men tremble.

But the next day, a scout hidden in the Yin Kingdom reported the news that the famed courtesan Su Wanrou had hanged herself, still leaving people unable to help feeling sorrow and regret.

Yin Ziheng was killed, Yin Tianxue captured. Before the melee began, Yin Tianxue had disguised herself as a maid, intending to break through the encirclement under the protection of Yin Yue, but was intercepted by Cheng You, who had lain in wait; Yin Yue died protecting Yin Tianxue.

Yin Tianxue's temperament was also firm; when Cheng You seized her, she tried to poison herself, but Cheng You, as if already knowing her tricks, struck her pressure points, knocked her out, and took her without hesitation. I had wanted to stop him, but he coldly refused, saying: 'The emperor has ordered that this person be taken alive.'

In less than three months, Wei Lingfeng and Qiran had nearly annihilated all the elite forces of the Ye and Yin kingdoms. Although Xiao Yifei had not yet been found, this was enough for everyone on the Tianhe Continent to fear and tremble at the sight of these two young commanders.

In fact, Xiao Yifei's failure to completely trap Wei Lingfeng when the latter was isolated and unaided already meant he had lost the entire situation. As the saying goes, 'Place one in a dead end and they will live'; once Wei Lingfeng escaped the trap that bound him, aided by Qiran and the Yi kingdom, his momentum became like a tiger bursting from its gate, a dragon lurking in the water, irresistible as a bamboo split, sharp and unstoppable, so that none under heaven could blunt his edge.

In the three formations, they killed those who surrendered; in the second formation, Yin Ziheng—dead!

(End of chapter)