Chapter 340: Weeping, She Was Slain

From the moment Zhang Jiaqi was brought to Jiang Mingyu’s tent, the air carried more than just chill—it was thick with unease. Everyone exchanged glances, trying to unravel the complex web of relationships behind this.

Jiang Mingyu regarded Zhang Jiaqi with a grim expression; her eyes, filled with shock, radiated a venomous coldness. He never imagined the woman he loved most would one day raise a blade to kill him. Turbulent emotions churned within him—he couldn’t understand how his decision could have made her hate him so deeply.

“Send for Tukesiluo.” Jiang Mingyu ordered in a low voice, knowing this matter was of grave importance and required his personal handling.

Moments later, Tukesiluo entered the tent, his face equally grave. Jiang Mingyu slowly closed his eyes, then opened them, his voice icy: “Zhang Jiaqi conspired with our mortal enemies, causing General Su Feng and other soldiers to suffer cruel deaths; today she infiltrated this tent to assassinate me—her crime merits death. Execute her. See her to her final path.”

“Yes, my lord.” Tukesiluo’s throat bobbed slightly before he bowed and accepted the order. He understood: if Zhang Jiaqi lived today, Jiang Mingyu could not answer for it.

After the two left, Jiang Mingyu’s heart felt crushed beneath a thousand-pound boulder. Outside, the wind howled, as if voicing some terrible accusation.

At the fifth watch, Tukesiluo returned alone. His longsword still dripped fresh blood; his voice was low: “Brother, Jiaqi has been executed. Her body lies buried beneath the snow...”

The words struck like thunder. Jiang Mingyu merely nodded slightly, then waved his hand, dismissing all his personal guards. Through their whispers, the entire army would soon learn of the tragic event that unfolded in the dragon tent today.

Jiang Mingyu’s heart ached with bitterness—he knew this was the only fitting end for both Ou Hang and the Wandering Souls. But nothing would ever be the same again...

He closed his eyes, and memories of meeting and knowing Zhang Jiaqi flooded his mind. If only he had chosen differently back then—would things have turned out otherwise? How could one ever heal a lifetime of regret and pain?

Thus, Jiang Mingyu sat alone in the tent, amidst the howling wind and flickering oil lamp, letting the searing agony spread through his soul...

In the Western Xia capital, Tuoba Jiqian sat in the grand hall, frantic. His army had only two days’ worth of grain left—if he delayed further, both civilians and soldiers would starve to death. Worse, Jiang Mingyu, that southern barbarian, had changed his mind—he no longer intended to strike straight for the heart of the capital, but instead chose to lay siege, hoping to starve him to death.

Tuoba Jiqian barked at his guards: “Quick! Find out what happened to Zhang Jiaqi—why hasn’t she appeared yet? Only she can help me resolve this!”

The guard hurriedly replied: “Your Highness, we’ve sent men everywhere. Rumor says Zhang Jiaqi’s concubine vanished last night—and no trace remains.”

“What?!” Tuoba Jiqian erupted in fury. “My favorite concubine disappears without a single report? Is the entire palace just a waste of food?”

The guard stood silently, head bowed, not daring to make a sound.

Suddenly, shouts rose from the city walls—Jiang Mingyu’s army was advancing again. Tuoba Jiqian immediately rose and strode toward the ramparts to personally command the defense.

But to Tuoba Jiqian’s dismay, Jiang Mingyu’s southern army halted a bowshot away from the gates. Jiang Mingyu raised his steel blade and shouted toward the walls: “Tuoba Jiqian! We’ve clashed many times, evenly matched. Today, I won’t fight you head-on—I’ll besiege you here and see how long you can hold out in this Western Xia capital!”

Tuoba Jiqian gritted his teeth, forcing down his rage: “Jiang Mingyu! Are you truly going to act like a coward, abandoning direct assault for a siege? Do you think ten thousand men can trap the mighty Western Xia?”

Jiang Mingyu laughed heartily: “Tuoba Jiqian, we both know military strategy. You’re deep in enemy territory, your supplies cut, your morale crumbling. I only need three or five days to reap the harvest! When you beg for mercy, it’ll be up to your fate—ha ha ha!”

“Jiang Mingyu, don’t get too arrogant! Our Western Xia is covered in snowfields, barren and lifeless—you can’t kill us with hunger or cold! It’s you who’s trapped, your lines stretched thin, your army cornered!” Tuoba Jiqian rallied himself, refusing to yield the verbal advantage.

“Fine! Let’s see who wins!” Jiang Mingyu said, then turned away, no longer bothering with Tuoba Jiqian. He mounted his horse and returned to his army, beginning to plan the long-term blockade of the Western Xia capital.

Tuoba Jiqian stared at Jiang Mingyu’s retreating back, his heart heavy. His aides exchanged worried glances, fearing their lord, in his desperation, might make a reckless move.

After a long while, Tuoba Jiqian finally tore his gaze from Jiang Mingyu’s camp and said grimly: “Bring me several low stools. I will convene a strategy meeting here.”

Before he finished speaking, his guards’ faces lit up. They hurriedly brought stools and arranged them along the rampart’s edge, inviting their lord to sit. Tuoba Jiqian, clad in leather armor, radiated strength and defiance. His men, all loyal death-soldiers, knelt before him, awaiting orders.

Tuoba Jiqian paused, then spoke slowly: “The situation is dire—our grain lasts only two days. My first priority is to find my beloved concubine. She may be our only hope to turn this disaster around...”

In the Western Xia capital, the people trembled, whispering among themselves whether Tuoba Jiqian could defeat the southern barbarians and lift the looming threat of famine.

Jiang Mingyu gazed proudly at the brightly lit palace within the Western Xia capital, certain Tuoba Jiqian was now frantically devising a plan. He hummed a cheerful tune, deciding to toy with his old rival a little more.

Before dawn the next day, Jiang Mingyu led his army to the city gates and pounded them loudly: “Tuoba Jiqian, open the gates and surrender! Your troops are starving and exhausted, your grain nearly gone! Delaying only harms yourself! Open the gates now—I’ll spare your entire family!”

The defenders on the walls could no longer bear it—they erupted in curses. Tuoba Jiqian sneered from the tower: “Jiang Mingyu, you underestimate Western Xia! Do you think ten thousand men can capture me? Dream on!”

Jiang Mingyu laughed: “Ten thousand men? You underestimate me! Behind me lie fifty thousand more—I brought only the elite ten thousand, just to toy with you!”

The officers gasped in horror. Tuoba Jiqian’s face darkened. He roared: “Lies! Where would you get fifty thousand men? There aren’t that many troops in all the land!”

Jiang Mingyu shook his head smugly: “The world may not have them—but my kingdom does! My realm is mighty, my manpower vast—what can’t I summon?”

The officers exchanged terrified glances. Tuoba Jiqian slammed his fist into the wall—solid blue stone cracked and dented. He choked back his rage and shouted: “Jiang Mingyu, stop your bluster! You think you can capture me? Dream on!” With that, he stormed into the city, preparing to summon his ministers for an emergency council.

But to his shock and fury, Zhang Jiaqi did not appear—not a single clue to her whereabouts. At this moment, Tuoba Jiqian longed for her more than ever. Even in utter despair, her presence gave him boundless courage and confidence. Now, he didn’t even know where she was—his fear and despair were unbearable...

The ministers all shook their heads silently, believing their lord was no longer himself—he would not escape doom. Tuoba Jiqian, too, felt time slipping away, and with desperation, turned to his ministers for counsel...

Meanwhile, the people’s terror reached its peak. They lay awake all night, trembling, waiting for dawn. The Zhang family huddled in their cellar, shaking. The old woman wept: “Oh no, what do we do? If the King loses, won’t the southern barbarians rape and slaughter us?”

Her daughter-in-law, holding her crying granddaughter, sighed helplessly: “Mother, stop crying! We don’t even know how strong the southern barbarians are—what if the King holds out?”

“How could he?!” the old woman cried louder. “Look at the officials these past two days—pale, hollow-eyed, like stray dogs! The King’s doomed too... Oh, we common folk—we’ll either be slaughtered or starve to death!”

A wounded soldier nearby couldn’t bear it anymore. He screamed hoarsely: “Enough! How can we, sons of Western Xia, lose our will? The King has a plan—he’ll slay the southern barbarians and crush this rebellion!”

“That soldier speaks truth!” a neighbor added. “Our fate is tied to the King’s. There’s nothing we can do now—but if the King finds a way, we’ll crush those southern dogs!”

“We should go kneel at the palace gates and beg the Empress to come out and lead us again!” the soldier said. “Didn’t she lead us to victory last time? With her, we fear nothing!”

“That’s true!” the old woman’s spirit lifted. She turned to her daughter-in-law: “Daughter, help me to the palace gates—we must beg the Empress to return! Without her, the King has no hope!”

Thus, from ministers to common folk, all in the Western Xia capital, in their despair, yearned for Zhang Jiaqi’s return—unaware that their Empress would never appear again...