Chapter 339: From Love to Hatred

Dark clouds pressed down on the city; the sky had grown heavy with night, a waning moon hanging over the bleak northwest. Yet Jiang Mingyu’s expression was darker still. Since raising his army, he had never faced such an unyielding foe. Our forces had suffered heavy casualties, and the reinforcement column led by Zha Wenhuai had been annihilated. Meanwhile, the ten-thousand-strong rescue army under Tu Kesiluo remained utterly silent.

Jiang Mingyu’s heart sank. He ordered his men in a low voice: “Quickly tally our dead and wounded!”

After a while, Lu Yi trudged into the command tent, pale and defeated: “Your Majesty, according to our count, over ninety thousand of our soldiers have fallen. We now have roughly half our original strength remaining...” His voice faded into a whisper too faint to hear.

Half! Jiang Mingyu had braced himself for heavy losses, but hearing the exact number sent a chill through him. He forced calm, forcing a grim smile to lift the gloom in the tent: “Though we’ve suffered grievously, the Northern Xixia defenders are no better off. The key is, our army has ample grain—we can wage a war of attrition. All we need do is encircle the city and starve Tuoba Jiqian and his men to death!”

The generals’ expressions eased slightly, their brows relaxing. Jiang Mingyu breathed a quiet sigh of relief—this bloody battle had taught his once-unbeatable commanders that conquering the world was still far off.

At that moment, a sentry’s excited cry rang from outside: “Halt! Prince Tu Kesiluo has returned with his troops!” Jiang Mingyu’s joy surged. He abandoned the meeting and strode out. There, bloodied and staggering, Tu Kesiluo limped forward, each step unsteady. Weakly, he called out: “Big brother... I’m back...” His dry voice carried deep exhaustion.

Jiang Mingyu hurried to support Tu Kesiluo’s arm, half-dragging, half-carrying him into the tent. The generals quickly cleared a space, helping Tu Kesiluo sit before the table, draping a warm blanket over his shoulders. Only then did he exhale slowly. Jiang Mingyu watched the dying man with concern, swiftly bringing hot tea and offering it: “Prince, rest a moment. Then tell me—what happened at the North Gate? How many did we lose? What’s the situation with the Northern Xixia?”

Tu Kesiluo took the cup and gulped down several sips before gathering his strength: “Ah, big brother, you wouldn’t believe it—Tuoba Jiqian had deployed thirty thousand troops at the North Gate! Had I not foreseen the danger and withdrawn in time, my men and I would’ve been wiped out...” He shuddered, shaking his head, still haunted.

“The garrison commander there, Du Gaocen, confident in his strength, thought he could swallow my ten-thousand-man rescue force whole.” Tu Kesiluo drained half the cup, his expression complex. “But then, that fool actually dared to sally out and fight me. Just as I was about to strike off his head, the Northern Xixia troops suddenly retreated back into the city.”

Here, Tu Kesiluo sighed heavily, clenching his fist in frustration: “We killed thirty or forty thousand of them, yet we still couldn’t breach the North Gate. Those Northern Xixia soldiers are like moles—they vanish back into the city in an instant!”

Jiang Mingyu exhaled. “Then what were our losses?”

“Twenty to thirty thousand dead or wounded—still within tolerable limits. To ensure success, I brought only our elite troops from Dajiang.” Tu Kesiluo spread his hands, indicating the cost wasn’t catastrophic.

After hearing Jiang Mingyu’s summary of the fierce battle at the East Gate, Tu Kesiluo glanced at Lu Yi and the others, their faces grim—and a flicker of cunning passed through his eyes. “Big brother, you won’t believe it—I was lucky. I captured a few Northern Xixia prisoners. They revealed: the capital’s grain reserves are nearly gone!”

The generals fell into murmured discussion again. Only Lu Yi remained skeptical. He sighed: “Even if Tuoba Jiqian runs out of grain, can we storm the capital quickly enough? If we delay too long, our own army may collapse...”

“Out of grain?” Jiang Mingyu seized the words. He turned to Tu Kesiluo. “How many days can Tuoba Jiqian hold out?”

“Two days! Within two days, the Northern Xixia army will have no grain left!”

Jiang Mingyu fell silent for a moment, then his eyes flashed with sudden brilliance. He slammed his fist on the table: “Give them two days. All troops—hold the siege, do not attack. When Tuoba Jiqian’s grain runs out, I’ll have a plan to finish him!”

“A plan?” The generals chorused.

Jiang Mingyu smiled meaningfully, lowering his voice: “Listen closely. This is what we’ll do...”

The men’s expressions turned complex.

After a long pause, Tu Kesiluo raised his thumb in praise: “Big brother, only you could devise such a scheme!”

Jiang Mingyu slapped his shoulder lightly. “No objections? Then it’s settled. Send the orders at once—delay, and things may change.”

Deep into the night, cold air hung heavy. The sentries at the camp gate strained to stay alert. Suddenly, a slender black shadow emerged from the deep darkness, slipping into the camp like a ghost.

The black-clad figure headed straight for the commander’s tent. He lifted the curtain’s edge slightly—inside, steady breathing signaled the commander was asleep. The intruder’s gaze hardened. He drew a dagger and lunged toward the sleeping man’s vital point. A cold hiss escaped his throat: “Die!”

But in that instant, dozens of lanterns flared to life, illuminating the intruder’s face—it was Zhang Jiaqi! She had never expected Jiang Mingyu to anticipate her arrival, to have prepared silently. Worse still, icy arrowheads surrounded her from all sides, forming a deadly cage—any movement would turn her into a pincushion.

Jiang Mingyu, who had been feigning sleep, slowly sat up. His face revealed no emotion, only coldness as he stared at Zhang Jiaqi: “Didn’t expect me to be waiting for you all along, did you?”

“You...” Zhang Jiaqi gasped, disbelief warring with shock—Jiang Mingyu had foreseen her move!

Jiang Mingyu yanked the black veil from her face. Complex emotions churned in his eyes. He had never imagined the assassin standing before him, ready to kill him, was the woman who had once loved him deeply.

“Why... how did we come to this?” Jiang Mingyu’s voice brimmed with unbearable pain. He didn’t understand—how could his rejection have driven her to such hatred? How had she turned to his enemies, become his sworn foe? Was love turning to hate truly this mad?

“You’ll pay!” Zhang Jiaqi’s venom nearly burned him. She sneered: “You thought so highly of yourself—believed I couldn’t live without you? My revenge has nothing to do with love!”

Jiang Mingyu froze. His voice cracked as he whispered: “What drove us to this? Tell me the truth!”

“It’s done. Words change nothing.” Zhang Jiaqi looked at him, her eyes empty. “We are now mortal enemies. Kill me if you wish.”

In that moment, Jiang Mingyu understood. In her heart, he had already died. The day she left Jincheng, her beautiful soul had perished. What truly wounded her wasn’t Liu Yifei’s selfishness—it was his invitation at the wedding. To a woman who loved him utterly, it was the ultimate humiliation.

And all of this—every step, every move—was her meticulously planned revenge. For that single moment of shame, she would stake her life, demanding justice.

But what price could her shoulders bear for such justice...?