Chapter Sixty-Five: Disheartened

Yang Ming, the Prince of Xiyuan, hurried along the road with Zhan Tianyi day and night, as if fearing that if they delayed even a moment, Dongling would truly kill Yang Qi. After all, the two nations were now at war and peace was but a memory. He believed Dongling had the courage to execute Yang Qi; as for himself, merely the brother-in-law, he was just another foreign prince in Dongling’s eyes. Dongling would exchange a royal son of Xiyuan for the life of the Lord of South Suppression—hardly a fair trade. If they regretted the deal at the last moment, his brother-in-law would have no hope for survival. Deep down, he wished for his brother-in-law to live. To this day, the people of Xiyuan remained unaware that Yang Qi’s captors were none other than Zhan Tianyi’s own daughter and son-in-law; they assumed Dongling had dispatched some unknown master.

Zhan Tianyi, having left, heard of what had transpired: Yan Kuan had been exposed, and the accusation of treason against himself had been cleared. Yet he had lost the will to live; his wife and child were gone, and he saw no reason to go on. No matter how Yang Ming rushed him or urged him forward, he moved at a slow and deliberate pace. Shackled with heavy iron chains, his progress was even slower. He wished they wouldn’t reach Wangcheng within three days, so Dongling would kill Yang Qi—at least then, he’d feel some measure of vindication. Eventually, Yang Ming had no choice but to pull him onto his own horse, so they rode together. Two men on a single mount, Yang Ming worried he might fall and held him with his hand. The sight was comical, but he cared little for appearances—getting to Wangcheng on time was all that mattered.

Yang Ming looked at the despondent Zhan Tianyi and sighed helplessly. “Brother-in-law, what’s the point of this? I know you want to delay, hoping we won’t arrive in time, but if the Second Prince is harmed, you will die as well.”

Zhan Tianyi glanced at Yang Ming, his voice calm. “Brother, Xin’er is dead, my child is gone. What meaning is there in life? I might as well join them below. If I die and take the son of the King of Xiyuan with me, I think it’s worth it.”

“Oh, you truly... You’re only in your thirties, with so many years ahead. Why speak so easily of death? If Xin’er knows in the afterlife, she won’t be at peace.”

“I’ll explain it to Xin’er when I see her below. She must have waited a long time.”

“Zhan Tianyi, have you considered that if you delay any further, I’ll have to go with you to see Xin’er? Would you be willing to do that?” Yang Ming looked at his gloomy expression, feeling sorrow himself.

Zhan Tianyi glanced at Yang Ming, as if suddenly realizing that Yang Ming was Xin’er’s brother—he couldn’t harm him, or Xin’er would blame him. At last, he traveled in earnest, no longer attempting to stall. Yang Ming, seeing Zhan Tianyi persuaded, breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly, this man loved his sister deeply; otherwise, he would not care about his brother-in-law’s fate. How pitiful that his sister had departed so early. Yet, if she had not died in childbirth and had only now discovered she’d spent sixteen years with a man who wasn’t her husband, would she not wish for death herself?

Three days later, Yang Ming arrived at Wangcheng with Zhan Tianyi, followed by the hundreds of thousands of Xiyuan troops stationed outside the pass, as the King of Xiyuan had decreed that he take command.

Zhongli Yu and Zhan Yan, upon hearing that Zhan Tianyi had been brought, found Feng Lin and asked him to lead them to Yang Qi. Feng Lin had naturally placed Yang Qi in a hidden location, guarded tightly. This time, when they went to see Yang Qi, they did not wear masks—they had no fear of being recognized.

Yang Qi was shackled by Feng Lin with iron chains and had been forced to take a powder that suppressed his martial arts; Feng Lin knew Yang Qi’s skills were formidable and feared he might break free and escape, which would cost him dearly.

When Yang Qi saw Zhongli Yu and Zhan Yan enter, fury flashed in his eyes. He had been imprisoned for three days, unaware of his captors’ identities. Now, seeing Zhongli Yu, he finally understood: it was the Prince Chun. He exclaimed angrily, “Zhongli Yu, you’re alive?”

Zhongli Yu gave him a cool glance. “Indeed. Disappointed, are you?”

Yang Qi looked at Zhongli Yu with disdain and sneered, “So, Prince Chun is a liar after all. I thought you were so noble, willing to exchange your life for Dongling’s people. Turns out you’re nothing special.” Yang Qi was furious. He had borne the scorn of the world to eliminate Zhongli Yu, but in the end, Zhongli Yu not only survived but captured him—how could he not hate and rage?

Zhongli Yu ignored his jeers, responding quietly, “Dongling’s people have indeed been rescued, haven’t they?”

Yang Qi was momentarily speechless. He could not fathom how, when his men had found Zhongli Yu with no breath left, Zhongli Yu could still be alive. He had seen with his own eyes Zhongli Yu’s heart pierced by a sword. Yet the man standing before him was unmistakably Zhongli Yu, alive and well. His gaze shifted to the woman beside Zhongli Yu, and he was stunned. She was strikingly beautiful; before, he had only glimpsed her from a distance and paid her little mind. When she fought Yan Kuan, he saw her martial prowess but was too busy fleeing to really notice her. Now he realized she was an extraordinary beauty—could she have saved Zhongli Yu? He could find no other explanation for Zhongli Yu’s survival.

“Who are you?” Yang Qi asked Zhan Yan.

“Who I am is of no concern to you. In truth, I wish nothing more than to kill you. You dared to force my husband into suicide. You’re lucky—the true Lord of South Suppression is alive, so your worthless life will be exchanged for his.” Zhan Yan spoke coolly. She loathed Yang Qi’s despicable ways; thinking of how Zhongli Yu had nearly been killed by him, she truly wished to end his life herself.

Yang Qi nearly choked with rage at Zhan Yan’s words. He, a noble prince, was called “worthless” by this woman. If his life was worthless, whose could possibly be deemed valuable? From her words, he realized she was the Princess Chun. No matter that she was a peerless beauty, he hated her all the same.

Zhongli Yu paid no heed to Yang Qi’s expression, which looked as though he had swallowed filth. He spoke in a deep voice, “Take him away.”

“Yes, young master,” Feng Lin replied loudly, barely suppressing a laugh. The mistress truly had a way with words—she could kill a man with her tongue.

Feng Lin lifted Yang Qi with one hand and hauled him onto his shoulder. Yang Qi’s head faced Zhongli Yu and Zhan Yan, his gaze nearly shooting flames. Imagine—a prince of Xiyuan, carried like cargo. He had never been so humiliated in his life, but thanks to Zhongli Yu, he had now suffered such disgrace twice in just three days.