Chapter 464: You and I, Three Pledges

The long sword pierced the heart—precise, cold.

The sword's chill spread outward; perhaps it was from too much wine, or too much indulgence.

The first sensation the Ying royal felt was not pain, but a cool touch—this inexplicable chill spread through his chest, and only then did a stabbing pain emerge.

Once that stabbing pain appeared, it rapidly expanded.

The drunkenness vanished; he recognized who it was. After the initial shock came a far more vivid disbelief and astonishment, surpassing even the sensation of death.

For the one holding the sword was someone who could never, should never, have struck at him!

"Li… Zhaowen?!!!"

The Marquis of Cold Spring muttered the name almost instinctively.

How could it be someone of the Li family?

Shouldn't they have trembled in fear, shouldn't they have been terrified, unable to sleep night after night? How could she?!"

The Marquis of Cold Spring knew what his death would trigger—knew that no matter the hidden motives, no matter the underlying reasons, no matter what thoughts or plans any duke might harbor.

A Vice Minister of the court and a royal clan member died in Xiyicheng.

And killed by the daughter of a duke.

There would be no turning back now—Xiyicheng would break from Ying; this land of four-front warfare, this place nearly symbolizing the next stage of the world's power, would fall utterly into the Qin Wang's hands. And the one who directly altered this grand tide of the world was not the Li Duke they had feared, nor any elder or famed general—but Li Zhaowen, who was merely nineteen this year.

How could she dare?!

How could she possess such resolve and audacity!

Beneath the Fire Qilin, besides the Gray Wolf, is there also a Phoenix…

Among the young heroes of the world, each had their own nature, each their own methods—but could there really be so many?

The Marquis of Cold Spring instinctively raised his hand to grasp the blade, straining with all his strength to pull it free—but he felt the sword in the woman's hand was as heavy and immovable as iron, as unyielding as her heart!

This person's nature differs from the Fire Qilin and the Gray Wolf.

This sword has carved out its own mark upon the world's fate!

Inch by inch, slowly sinking deeper.

The Black Armor Army had already entered—controlling all, wielding heavy shields, clad in thick black armor, battle-hardened tactics: crossbows clearing the way, heavy shields pressing from behind, spears and halberds thrusting through the gaps between shields, swords and knives following close behind, without a single moment's hesitation, slaughtering the high ministers from Ying's Ducheng.

All of Ying's envoy delegation were killed.

The stench of blood grew thick, driving back some of the wine, meat, and powder scents, then blending into one—overwhelming, soul-shaking, a single nauseating odor. Li Zhaowen stood alone, her expression cold.

The defense here and the city's garrison had long been arranged and controlled by Li Zhaowen; the civilians in this district had been moved away under the pretext of prior conflicts between Ying's high ministers and the people.

Previously, these high ministers from Ying's Ducheng had each been arrogant and disdainful, regarding Xiyicheng's common folk as beneath notice.

They repeatedly insulted the people, sparking constant clashes—so Li Zhaowen simply had the civilians relocated.

At the time, the Marquis of Cold Spring had laughed about it with others, saying the Li Duke's household had finally grown afraid. Back then, he had been quite pleased with himself—yet this self-proclaimed illustrious Vice Minister had never imagined this was merely the unsheathing of a sword.

Silence fell. Screams rose—but no one came. Instead, they only underscored the peace beneath this sky.

The screams gradually faded, grew quieter.

The Hou Jue's life force rapidly dissipated.

Though he himself was at the fifth level of Wu Gong, how could he compare to the world-renowned general commanding the Black Armor Army? There was not the slightest chance of resistance.

Blood continuously slid down the blade. Li Zhaowen calmly ended the Hou Jue's life, slowly withdrawing the sword. Now, all of Ying's high ministers lay dead here, and the singers and servants had all been restrained.

The transmission of intelligence and news was cut off.

Li Zhaowen was not of a capricious, murderous nature. After the trials of the battlefield, her youthful naivety had been entirely erased—every method was mature, complete. She watched it all in silence, knowing that from the moment she drew this sword, everything she had once cherished, everything she had once cared for, was gone.

The veil maintaining the illusion of peace had been torn open.

The past was truly past.

Li Zhaowen gazed at the envoy's mansion. The Black Armor soldiers mixed the Hou Zhongyu's incendiary powder into fine wine and sprinkled it everywhere. Li Zhaowen seized a torch and casually tossed it down—flames surged upward, consuming all. The girl held her helmet, her slightly upturned eyes reflecting the blazing fire, bright and calm.

The girl's crimson phoenix-cloud-patterned battle robe fluttered.

"It's over."

She whispered.

As those three words fell, she severed herself irrevocably from the past—turned, her sleeves swirling, black strands of hair lifting at her temples. With that single step, the barrier that had held her at the peak of the sixth level for four years shattered soundlessly.

Behind her, the flames roared skyward, suddenly trembling—her innate heavenly form once again revealed its power. Boundless fire converged, drawn forth by the Phoenix, forming a great Phoenix. The Phoenix spread its wings, and the flames turned pure gold. The golden Phoenix shot toward the heavens, illuminating the darkness like a great sun.

Li Zhaowen—

The bearing of dragon and phoenix, the visage of the sun and moon.

Realm breakthrough.

Just this one step.

Seventh level peak!

Her accumulation was too profound—a natural Dharma Aspect user who had reached the fifth level five years ago. Now she shattered a thousand knots within her heart, her momentum surging—and even now, its resonance lingered.

She had originally intended only to kill the so-called Ying high ministers who sought to act against Xiyicheng, and to slay this so-called Marquis of Cold Spring, thereby carving out a future path and making her own decision. But after striking, Li Zhaowen's heart fully opened. She followed her spirit's impulse, found a place, abandoned all talk, and simply broke through the door.

Li Yuanchang had been living in chaos lately.

The one who had opposed him, the former Anxi city governor, had grown ever more renowned across the world—intimidating the four quarters, consolidating ten thousand li of territory, defeating the Divine General, settling the hearts of the realm with three arrows, his strategists as numerous as rain, his generals as countless as clouds.

And yet, though he held the stature to proclaim himself emperor or king, he called himself only Wang.

His names of loyalty, righteousness, benevolence, virtue, and heroism spread far and wide.

Li Yuanchang's life was not bad.

But Li Guanyi was simply too renowned. No matter how hard he tried to ignore the name, no matter how much he wished not to hear of this man's deeds, the whole world praised him—how could he avoid hearing it, even if he refused?

Each time he heard others praise him, it felt as if a venomous tongue gnawed at his heart—so he grew angrier, yet anger was useless, only making him feel himself weak and ridiculous.

Coupled with Xiyicheng's shifting status, this period had left him increasingly dazed. Tonight, he had drunk all night, then heard voices outside. At first he ignored them—but the noise grew louder, more clamorous.

For some reason, a faint trembling stirred within him.

And so she trembled, yet grew even more furious; half-dazed, she slammed the wine jar violently to the ground, strode forward barefoot in loose garments, and shouted: "What's all this noise?!"

"If you dare make another sound, I'll break every limb of yours and sell you to traffickers—make your afterlife harder than death…"

His voice cut off abruptly.

A fierce wind swept open, and in the night, mingled with the scent of wine and a faint trace of blood, came the iron-armored breeze; the maidens holding lanterns on either side trembled, their flickering light falling upon the newcomer's face, the dark armor faintly reflecting a cold, chilling glow.

Sharp contours, piercing gaze.

It was Li Yuanchang's long-estranged second sister.

He had always resented Li Zhaowen; in ordinary times, if Li Zhaowen had barged in and disrupted his mood, he would have erupted in shouting—but now, Li Zhaowen regarded Li Yuanchang with the calmness of one looking down from above.

That armor, bloodstained battle robe, the dark night sky behind her like a vast cloak, pressed upon Li Yuanchang like a mountain—her heavy, overwhelming aura seized his throat.

His lips quivered; his Adam's apple rose and fell.

"Second sister… you… what are you doing?"

"What am I doing?"

Li Zhaowen smiled lightly.

Under Li Yuanchang's terrified gaze, she raised her sword.

And then—

She brought it down with all her force!

………………

When Li Jianwen noticed something was wrong and rushed over, he heard a piercing, agonized scream; after a while, the scream faded, replaced by fearful pleading, confessions of every wrong he had done.

Li Jianwen's heart shook; as he sprinted inside, he saw his third brother lying there, Li Yuanchang's legs twisted unnaturally, bloodied, propping himself up on his elbows, scrambling backward; Li Zhaowen stood calmly, her battle robe swirling—as if sensing Li Jianwen's presence, she turned her head slightly.

Li Jianwen's heart jolted; he cried out: "Second sister, no!"

Li Zhaowen seemed not to hear; suddenly, she drew her sword.

The long blade pierced the air and drove downward!

Li Jianwen's heart nearly stopped at the sword's hum; his vision darkened, and only when he gasped for breath did he see Li Zhaowen's blade had grazed Li Yuanchang's cheek and sunk deep into the stone, emitting a chilling, deadly hum.

Li Yuanchang's face was deathly pale, utterly drained of color.

The world fell utterly silent.

Li Zhaowen rose, and as she passed Li Jianwen, she tossed a spare jade token into his arms, saying coolly:

"I've destroyed his Wu Gong, broken his limbs. Hand him over to you, Elder Brother."

Li Jianwen said: "You're going…?"

Li Zhaowen gave no answer; she simply left.

Li Yuanchang wept, crawling on elbows and knees to Li Jianwen's side, grabbing his sleeve, tears and snot streaming: "Big brother, big brother, second sister's gone mad, she's mad! She wants to kill me, big brother!"

He had been beaten with the scabbard of her sword, bones shattered, dantian destroyed.

He looked pitiful—his right leg broken, Li Zhaowen had vented her fury, and felt much better; Li Jianwen hurried to lift his brother up. He had always gotten along well with his younger brother; though he didn't understand what had happened, seeing such a sight, he still felt the ache of blood ties.

Li Yuanchang kept repeating how Li Zhaowen had gone mad.

And put on a pitiful, weeping act.

Li Jianwen comforted him, yet stared at the jade token in his hand, curiosity finally stirring—he instinctively activated it—

The Yin-Yang School's power surged, and immediately, Li Yuanchang's laughter rang out—the carefree, relaxed laugh—mingling with his half-genuine, half-faked sobbing, creating an uncanny dissonance.

Along with a low hum and the stirring of Qi, the figures of Li Yuanchang and the Mo Sect women reappeared before Li Jianwen and Li Yuanchang, vivid, lifelike, utterly real—created by Yin-Yang School techniques.

It was a method taught by Master Siming, with the silver-haired girl herself recording the images.

Li Zhaowen had personally brought three flasks of fine wine and asked Master Siming to recreate them.

It was as if one stood right there.

As the phantom images played—Li Yuanchang's arrogance, his carefree demeanor, his words plotting against their father, trampling his elder and second sister into the mud for pleasure—Li Yuanchang's crying stopped. He felt a shudder run through him.

He felt the hand supporting his shoulder suddenly harden.

His brother's once gentle hand now gripped his shoulder like forged iron.

Li Yuanchang stiffened, slowly, painfully, raised his head.

He saw his elder brother looking down at him, the warmth in those eyes slowly draining away; Li Yuanchang's body trembled:

"Big brother, I'm wrong, I'm truly wrong!"

"It was them—they drugged me, they bewitched me, big brother!"

"We're blood brothers, same father, same mother, flesh of my flesh, big brother! I'm truly wrong!"

"Big brother, big brother!!!"

Li Yuanchang's pleading cut off, then turned into a scream.

…………………

Li Zhaowen had resolved her inner turmoil; she no longer cared what came next.

Before acting, she had severed all intelligence networks in Xiyicheng; the city gates were guarded by her own men.

Now, sword in hand, she headed for the Duke's Mansion—where the Duke sat stunned, the entire compound now under control of the Xuanjia Army—these Xuanjia soldiers were elite veterans of the battlefield; their armor plates clanked with chilling, deadly precision, silent and seasoned, surrounding the mansion in formation.

The Duke drew his sword and coldly shouted: "Are you all plotting rebellion?!"

The Xuanjia Army replied only: "We dare not."

Li Shude said: "Then, stand aside!!"

But these Xuanjia soldiers merely bowed respectfully, standing firm—no disrespect, no insubordination—but absolutely refusing to move. Li Shude, alarmed and furious, fearing fratricide, grew desperate—his sword raised to strike.

A hand reached out and seized Li Shude's wrist.

The hand was strong, solid—Li Shude could not break free.

Li Shude turned— it was Xia Hou Duan, the famed general who had ridden beside him since youth across this land, who had followed him even through the direst passes like Yanmen Pass, never once betrayed him, now blocking his blade.

Xia Hou Duan whispered, "My Lord, the Second Young Lady has her own thoughts."

"She could never do anything extreme."

Li Shude froze, noticing Xia Hou Duan's gaze shifting away, refusing to meet his own.

Li Shude suddenly understood.

This general, utterly loyal to him, even willing to die for him, had also sided with Li Zhaowen—how had his own daughter won the approval of men like Xia Hou Duan?

Was it her campaigns across the land, or her rank as twenty-seventh on the Divine General List at such a young age?

Or had this daughter, whom he thought could never escape his grasp, already surpassed his expectations and control?

At this moment, Li Shude felt a sense of irrevocable loss; the earlier urgency and rage, the force that had seemed ready to explode his very being, vanished, drained from within him.

His hand lost strength, and the sword fell to the ground.

At that very moment, the quarters where the Ying Kingdom envoys stayed were engulfed in flames; the Phoenix's divine form rose from the fire, golden flames brightening the entire sky as if the great sun had risen.

Amid this divine spectacle of the Phoenix ascending, Li Duke watched his daughter approach, drenched in blood, her formidable aura and chilling killing intent radiating outward.

Li Shude's voice trembled: "You, you..."

Li Zhaowen tossed down her scabbard and said, "Father, I have made your choice for you."

Li Shude's trembling voice asked, "Did you kill your brother?"

Li Zhaowen looked at Li Shude and said, "No."

Li Shude did not know what to feel; he staggered back half a step—this retreat was relief, fear of his child's terrifying presence, or perhaps the weary release after making a choice for the world, or fear of his daughter.

He didn't even know himself.

Li Shude grew dazed, then spat out a mouthful of blood and collapsed backward.

Xia Hou Duan's face turned pale; he drew his sword and dagger, supporting Li Duke's arm and escorting him inside to rest.

That day, all intelligence in Xiyicheng was sealed, especially concerning Ying Kingdom personnel—no one, regardless of background or origin, could leave Xiyicheng.

The next day, the "unconscious and wounded" Li Duke awoke, extremely weak.

He summoned the civil and military officials of the Duke Mansion and said: "I am old. Yesterday, the Cold Spring Marquis of Ying Kingdom suffered a fire that burned his mansion to ashes. I can no longer guide Xiyicheng through this chaotic age."

He must choose a new heir.

Among the civil and military officials and strategists of the Duke Mansion, they exchanged glances but saw no trace of the Third Young Master.

Yet Li Jianwen, always known for his gentle and noble demeanor, had numerous bruises on his fists for no apparent reason.

These marks, rather than seeming like accidental collisions,

looked more like the result of furious, hostile punches relentlessly hammered into something—wounding himself in the process. Rumors also whispered that the Third Young Master, Li Yuanchang, had accidentally fallen from his bed while drinking and reveling.

He had fallen terribly!

His arms, legs, wrists, and ankles were all broken.

He could only lie in bed and recover properly.

There were certainly hidden truths, but the civil and military officials of the Xiyicheng Duke Mansion, who had held their ground in this critical four-way battleground, were all shrewd men who understood one principle well:

Do not speak what should not be spoken; do not inquire into what should not be known.

Do not ask about what should not be questioned—even if the strangest thing happened right before their eyes.

Absolutely do not ask!

Just as everyone assumed the First Young Master would inherit the position, Li Shude's gaze settled on Li Zhaowen, standing calmly there, and said: "…The Duke title passes to Zhao Wen."

"I will later submit a formal petition to Your Majesty detailing the matter."

The crowd was stunned.

The Lord of Xiyicheng, though titled Duke, wielded immense power—especially under current circumstances, enough to claim kingship, with his own court, troops, generals, and unparalleled status.

To suddenly transfer it to Li Zhaowen was highly abnormal.

Subtly, some sharp minds sensed the situation escalating, their hearts trembling; they quickly suppressed such thoughts, refusing to dwell further. Amid the stares of shock, fear, and panic, Li Zhaowen stepped forward from the crowd, slowly bowed, and paid her respects.

She accepted the seal and, as she turned, became the Duke.

The void rippled; the golden Phoenix divine form appeared, spreading its wings and soaring, as destiny and martial momentum converged, riding the final resonance, she took one step forward!

In this chaotic age of countless knots, some cut through with swords.

Some burned through with fire.

Others shattered through with brute force.

Li Zhaowen.

Entered the Eighth Heaven!

All civil and military officials and strategists beneath her bowed together and said:

"We pay homage to the Duke!"

………………

After the matter concluded, Li Zhaowen changed out of her armor and battle robe, bathed in hot water, and let her spirit slowly calm; the fierce spirit in her eyes gradually faded, becoming languid.

The next day, Xiyicheng—the most critical place in the world—began a series of changes: the Black Armor Army appeared everywhere; some were arrested, some messages intercepted; officials and noble families trembled like birds frightened by bows, yet the common folk simply carried on with their lives.

As for the former Marquis from Ying Kingdom, who had been arrogant and boastful, it was said he had been too delighted while drinking, accidentally igniting silk or other flammable materials, and burned himself alive.

People merely muttered and cursed: "Served him right."

When mentioning the dissolute Third Young Master who had fallen onto his bed,

one could not openly curse him anymore.

One could only whisper privately: "Good fall."

Dressed in ordinary robes but still wearing her sword, Li Zhaowen rode her steed out of Xiyicheng. This time, Xiyicheng was no longer under others' control—it had made its own choice from the chaos, no longer dragged along as before.

She quietly watched the winter landscape of Xiyicheng, patted her mount's neck, her expression calm and composed. She recalled the day when Li Guanyi's sixth steed, killed by the Wolf King, had been buried—and the three promises she had made to Li Guanyi.

At that time, those three promises had stirred faint ripples and unease within her; she had said she had not yet decided, and would wait until she had thought it through.

If she were an ordinary woman, she might have been swayed by that fleeting moment of emotion, uttering tender vows of lifelong companionship and undying devotion.

But she was Li Zhao Wen, a blazing phoenix whose gaze swept across the world, clad in stern armor, wielding a cold sword; she penned her letter and sent it via a majestic falcon to Jiangnan, where Li Guanyi unrolled it and scanned its words.

"Brother Li, long no see—how have you been? I have a younger brother named Li Yuanchang; you still remember him, I'm sure—arrogant, utterly dissolute—but he is my full brother, born of the same father and mother. I cannot kill him, yet keeping him risks hidden dangers. After much thought, I've devised a perfect solution."

"If possible, I hope you will entrust him to Master Wen Qingyu for guidance."

Li Guanyi fell silent, suddenly thinking of Chen Tianyi, his lip twitching.

"If you're willing…"

He muttered under his breath, set down his tea, and read the rest of the text, which continued:

"Do you still recall our agreement outside Anxi City? Back then, I hadn't decided. Now, I have."

"So, my first agreement is…"

Li Guanyi's gaze halted on those bold characters—though they were old friends, he was struck dumb, heart seized in an instant.

Li Zhao Wen's eyes had already seen the vastness of the world.

Li Zhao Wen had dropped her piece into the game.

Li Guanyi and Li Zhao Wen made three agreements that day.

The first—

Amidst this great upheaval of the world, winds rising and clouds surging, where battles rage in all directions, and opposing forces clash—

【Qin Wang accepts Xiyicheng】!

?? Please vote for monthly tickets, friends~