Chapter Fifty: Pear Blossoms Fill the Sky

Between heaven and earth, only the mournful cries echoed, then all fell silent, as if time itself had stopped and not a single sound could be heard. The men of Dongling silently let their tears fall, as if their grief alone could soak the land beneath them.

Zhongli Yu sat quietly upon his horse, letting his blood flow freely, his gaze fixed on Yang Qi. "Yang Qi, it's time to release them." With those words, his body slumped, slowly collapsing onto the horse's back.

"Someone, go check if he's dead," Yang Qi ordered, still uneasy, and sent a soldier to investigate.

"Second prince, he is no longer breathing," the soldier reported truthfully upon his return.

"Release the hostages," Yang Qi commanded with a wave of his hand, and the soldiers of Xiyuan immediately loosened their grip. The freed hostages walked slowly toward the Dongling troops, knowing their lives had been traded for by the noble Prince Chun’s own death. Their hearts were not relieved; instead, their vision blurred with tears, and even years later, this scene remained vivid in their memories.

When Zhan Yan arrived at Wangcheng, she immediately spotted the pale blue figure—he lay lifeless across the horse’s back, his blood staining his clothes, dried traces marking the saddle, while the hostages had already returned safely to the Dongling ranks.

She stood frozen, overwhelmed by sorrow.

"No—" At last, her anguished wail pierced the silence. All eyes turned and saw a figure in white standing atop a white horse, dust-laden yet unable to obscure her peerless beauty. She touched down lightly, landing steadily on Zhongli Yu’s horse, gently caressed his face, still warm, and hurriedly pressed a Great Revival Pill into his mouth. But he could not swallow; it would not go in. In desperation, her tears blurred her vision; she placed the pill in her own mouth, pried open his lips, and fed him the dissolved medicine mouth-to-mouth.

Hundreds of thousands of eyes were fixed upon this moment, uncertain who this mysterious woman was.

“Lady!” Li Hun and his companions cried out, trembling with excitement—she had arrived, and perhaps the young lord could yet be saved. His greatest regret had been not seeing her one last time before death, and now she appeared as if from nowhere, an event they could scarcely have imagined.

Everyone watched as the woman in white fed medicine to Prince Chun, her tears falling ceaselessly, wetting his face. She struggled to pry open his mouth, urging the pill inside, only leaving his lips once it had been swallowed. Zhan Yan hurriedly checked his pulse, but Zhongli Yu’s heartbeat was gone; she could feel nothing. Panic set in—the Great Revival Pill should have the power to bring the dead back to life, yet Zhongli Yu lay silent and still. Had she arrived too late? Her tears flowed even more fiercely; never before had her heart ached so much that she could barely breathe. Her hands trembled with fear as she shook him gently, “Zhongli Yu, Zhongli Yu, wake up, look at me.” But only silence answered her. Tenderly, she lifted him and with her inner energy extracted the sword lodged in his chest, then sealed his acupoints to stop the bleeding.

After a long while, Zhan Yan finally wiped away her tears and raised her head, looking up at the city tower. She saw her father standing amidst the enemy ranks. In that instant, a fierce hatred welled up within her heart. She could endure his neglect for fifteen years, his lack of fatherly love, even his betrayal of the country, for perhaps he had his reasons. But what she could never forgive was his willingness to involve the innocent—the people of Wangcheng had done nothing wrong; he had no right to decide their fate, nor to use them to force her husband to his death. The deep-rooted sense of justice from her past life surged forth; even if he was her own father, she could not allow him to harm others any longer.

Zhan Yan dismounted, gently cradling Zhongli Yu in her arms, casting a tender gaze upon him before handing him to Li Lan, who stood closest to her. “Wait for me here. I’ll be back soon,” she whispered, then with a light step, flew dozens of yards away.

“Lady!” Li Hun and his companions cried out in alarm, fearing for her safety. They attempted to follow, but she had already vanished. In a few breaths, she landed steadily atop the city tower, standing before Yang Qi and Yan Kuan. All were stunned—never had they seen such remarkable agility; in a blink, she had leapt dozens of yards. Yang Qi and Yan Kuan were equally astonished. Zhan Yan stared directly at Yan Kuan, her eyes brimming with hatred, disappointment, and grief, her emotions a tangled web that unsettled him profoundly.

Zhan Yan drew from her waist a sword thin as a silkworm’s wing, pointing it at Yan Kuan.

Sensing danger, Yan Kuan quickly drew his own sword to face her. The woman in white moved like a swift swallow, her attacks relentless and precise, targeting his vital points. Within ten moves, Yan Kuan could no longer defend himself.

“Protect the general!” Yang Qi cried in horror. This woman’s martial arts were extraordinary—Yan Kuan was one of Xiyuan’s finest warriors, yet he could not withstand ten moves. Yang Qi knew he himself was no match for her. Countless soldiers surged forward. The Dongling troops were still some distance from the city tower, not yet able to assist, while Xiyuan’s soldiers surrounded Zhan Yan tightly. Seeing herself encircled, Zhan Yan steeled herself and unleashed her ultimate martial skill.

All watched as a shower of pear blossoms descended from the sky, chilling to the bone. The petals’ edges sliced through the soldiers’ armor, leaving deep, bloodied gashes on their bodies, a coldness sweeping over them. When Li Hun and his companions arrived, a swath of Xiyuan soldiers had already fallen. They stood aghast, never before seeing such formidable swordplay—one move, and countless enemies slain. All forgot to advance, forgot to fight, staring in awe at the woman in white.

Around her, countless pear blossom-shaped flakes of ice and snow floated, drifting down like petals. The sky was filled with white pear blossoms, which melted into snow water upon landing. In this sweltering summer, all felt a sudden, refreshing chill.

None dared approach again. Facing Yan Kuan, Zhan Yan drove her sword through his heart. He stared wide-eyed in disbelief, never expecting to die at the hands of an unknown woman. Just before his eyes closed, he saw a flash of pain in her gaze, then realized her face was strangely familiar.

Yan Kuan collapsed, and a jet-black worm, as thick as a finger, wriggled from his wound. The disguise parasite had lived in him for years, absorbing his vitality and growing large. Yan Kuan’s face began to change, no longer resembling the Prince of Southern Defense, but reverting to his true appearance. Drained by the parasite, though he was only in his thirties, he looked like a man in his fifties. Zhan Yan stared in disbelief, lost and confused by this scene.

“This is General Yan Kuan of Xiyuan, not the Prince of Southern Defense,” said General Liang Ruhai, who had just arrived. Years ago, he had encountered Yan Kuan in battle; despite their age difference, he recognized him instantly. The crowd murmured in astonishment—if this was not the Prince of Southern Defense, where was the real prince?

“Li Hun, take this man's body back,” Zhan Yan said, turning to her companion. She gently picked up the parasite and placed it in a bottle, knowing there were secrets yet to be uncovered and hoping Grandpa Meng could solve the mystery when he arrived.

“Yes, Princess,” Li Hun replied, lifting Yan Kuan and heading toward the Dongling troops.

Zhan Yan looked up and saw that they were again surrounded by Xiyuan soldiers, but Yang Qi was nowhere to be seen.

Dongling troops, realizing Zhan Yan had killed the impostor prince, suddenly recalled the tactics Prince Chun had arranged for them. With a burst of shouts, their morale surged, and they launched a fierce attack on the enemy. In less than half an hour, they forced the enemy into retreat. Yang Qi, seeing the tide turn, hastily ordered a withdrawal, pulling his forces out of Wangcheng and fortifying them outside the city.

With Prince Chun’s fate uncertain, General Liang Ruhai and the others had no heart for pursuit. Reclaiming Wangcheng was already a great victory, and so, with Zhan Yan’s sudden arrival, the battle ended abruptly.

Zhan Yan returned to Zhongli Yu’s side, only to find him still silent and motionless, her heart aching anew.

“Give him to me,” she said to Li Ying, who gently handed Zhongli Yu over.

She touched his hand—still no pulse, though it retained a faint warmth. At this moment, she was filled with regret—regret for not properly learning medicine from Grandpa Meng, leaving her ignorant of whether he was truly alive or dead.

Cradling him in her arms, Zhan Yan leapt lightly over Wangcheng’s city gate, entering the headquarters. She found a spacious room, laid him on the bed, brought clean clothes and changed him, carefully bandaging his wounds. Yet as she did all this, he remained utterly unaware. His face was pale as snow, limp upon the bed, and Zhan Yan stared at him, uncertain what to do next.