Driven by days of relentless travel and high-strung nerves, Xiao Nanhui had not slept soundly for three days. The jar of aged fruit wine had left her draped in the exhaustion that follows an emotional purge. Having spent so long exposed to the elements, the simple presence of a roof over her head allowed a sense of security to seep in, causing her guard to inadvertently slip.
Though she repeatedly reminded herself to stay alert, she eventually drifted into a brief, fitful slumber.
She did not dream. Instead, through the haze of sleep, she seemed to hear a sharp cry echoing through layers of rock from a great distance. She jolted awake.
Remaining still, she listened intently for a moment, confirming it wasn't a hallucination born of drowsiness.
It was the cry of a Night Owl.
The joy she felt in that moment was beyond words; it was as if the pitch-black world around her had suddenly been set ablaze with light.
Following the direction of the wind, she quickly found the nearest opening to the outside and peered out.
The nearby hills were still shrouded in night, but a faint, pale green tint touched the horizon—the first glimmer of dawn.
As soon as she poked her head out, the cry drew closer. She craned her neck toward the sky and saw a plump silhouette circling in the air.
She gave a short, sharp whistle. The figure dove, landing swiftly before her.
Seeing that familiar, round body, Xiao Nanhui’s eyes welled with tears. Had it not been a speckled beast, she might have pulled it into a massive hug.
The Night Owl lifted a leg and scratched the two tufts on its head impatiently, as if urging her to prepare the message quickly so it could be on its way.
Xiao Nanhui was momentarily stumped. She had neither pen nor paper, nor even an inch of white cloth. She tore another strip from her already tattered hem and used a piece of charcoal from last night’s fire to scrawl the words "Se Hill." After a thought, fearing it was too vague, she flipped it over and added "Cave."
She tied the cloth securely to the owl’s leg. The bird gave a powerful thrust of its tail and shot into the air like an arrow.
She watched the silhouette go, her hopes for survival riding on its wings. She wished for it to fly higher, faster...
*Whiz.*
A cold light streaked from the valley, heading straight for the ascending owl. Because of the distance, it looked like a lightning-fast silver needle.
Xiao Nanhui’s face paled with shock, her body leaning forward instinctively.
Hearing the wind, the Night Owl beat its wings and hovered mid-air. The cold light grazed past it, then suddenly swiveled and fell back toward the valley. It looked like a tethered arrow used in stringed archery.
Among archers, there were those who specialized in shooting birds using arrows attached to fine cords. Even if a bird of prey managed to struggle and escape after being hit, the hunter could follow the line to find their quarry as long as the thread remained unbroken.
While this was a sport for princes and nobles, who would be playing such games here in the wasteland? It was almost certainly the group they had encountered during the day.
Having missed once, the archer fired again—faster and more vicious than before.
The Night Owl let out a cry and soared into the higher clouds. The mist quickly concealed its form, and the pursuing arrow lost its target, falling back down only to be sliced in two by an invisible blade of wind.
She held her breath, staring unblinkingly at the barren hill.
A moment later, a figure stepped out from behind it.
An Lü’s eyes were fixed on the sky, a cold smirk curling his lips. "No rush. The monk can run, but the temple can't."
Behind him stood a Puhuna, silent, staring intently at the bells on his wrist.
Sensing something, An Lü turned back. "Did you not hear me? Move faster. Those two must be nearby. We’ve searched all day without a trace; they’ve likely hidden in some cave."
The Puhuna remained silent for a moment before suddenly speaking. "Little Master, the bells rang just now."
An Lü’s expression soured.
These Nanqiang people were strange, always muttering to themselves in a language he couldn't understand, and he had never once heard those bells on their wrists make a sound.
They were clearly a string of mute bells; what was the point of this mysticism?
"The bells rang? Why didn't I hear them?" He stepped forward and shook the bells violently. "There’s clearly no sound. And even if they did ring, so what? You probably just imagined it..."
"Little Master does not understand. These Spirit Bells cannot be rung by shaking. They only react when they sense an incantation or..."
The Nanqiang man stopped, seemingly wary of something.
An Lü grew even more impatient. "Speak plainly. Why the hesitation? Or do you look down on me and insist that the Great Master be here before you'll open your mouth?"
The man lowered his head and muttered a few words in the Nanqiang tongue, seemingly asking for forgiveness, before slowly continuing: "It is not that I am unwilling to say. It is just that the elders of our tribe once warned us: if the bells ring without the drive of a spell or the touch of wind, it means a god is approaching. We must retreat and keep our distance."
As the man finished and bowed his head again, An Lü stared at him for a long time before suddenly erupting into a fit of laughter, as if he had heard something utterly ridiculous.
"Interesting! Truly interesting!" His laughter reached a peak, twisting into a manic expression, his eyes filled with indelible mockery. "In that case, let us go and meet this 'true god.' I would very much like to see what a god actually looks like."
A dozen expressionless faces melted into the gray valley, quietly closing in through the darkness.
Even at such a distance, Xiao Nanhui had lost sight of them, yet she felt a threat more profound than any she had known.
A gust of cold wind blew past, and she jerked back into the cave.
If the Tiancheng army had already passed the Triple-Eye Pass, it might only take a few hours for the Night Owl to bring reinforcements. Risking an exit now might mean missing the best chance to regroup, but was staying in the cave simply waiting for death?
Dawn was ahead, yet this was the darkest hour.
By the time she ran back into the heart of the cave, the fire had gone out.
The man was awake, standing beneath the massive mural. A sliver of cold light outlined his silhouette from behind, making him seem, for a fleeting moment, as one with the deity depicted on the wall.
He heard her movement but did not turn around.
"Someone is coming?"
Panting, she nodded. The sound of the tethered arrow whistling through the air still seemed to ring in her ears.
"Friend or foe?"
Xiao Nanhui said nothing. She stared at him fixedly, as if by doing so she could make him understand what was about to happen without needing to speak.
After a pause, she made her decision.
She stepped forward quickly, removed the only piece of cloth armor she wore, and carefully draped it over him.
"It is warmer in the cave than outside, but it still gets bitterly cold at night. If Your Majesty does not know how to build a fire, I fear the cold will be unbearable."
She then gathered the remaining food, wrapped it, and placed it in his hand. She carefully covered the remains of the fire with sand and stone until the ground was clean.
He watched her with a calm gaze. "What are you doing?"
"I... I will go and lead them away."
She kept her head down as she spoke, but her tone was resolute.
She had returned to using formal titles, as if using them to remind herself: *Do not forget your place.*
"The Night Owl has already gone to deliver the message. It won't be long before the people of Tiancheng arrive. I will lead those men away. As long as Your Majesty stays here, you will surely be saved."
As she spoke, a glimmer of hope seemed to rise in her heart.
From the day she decided to step onto the battlefield, she had been prepared to die. Her hope could be left to someone else—and that person was the most noble figure in the dynasty. She should feel honored.
The Emperor looked at her silently.
In the darkness, that begrimed face held a pair of determined, bright eyes, carrying both the heat of life and its fragility.
Even if she had been terrified just moments ago, now that the time had come, she had summoned all her courage.
The fearlessness of the ignorant is worthless; only those who understand fear and yet choose to be brave are as precious as gold.
"There is no need."
She stared blankly at the hand that caught her own. It was still wrapped in the fresh bandages she had applied today.
"Do not leave. Stay here and accompany Us in admiring the light of dawn."
"But they are coming..."
"This place has more than one entrance. If you leave from here and they enter from there, how is Us to protect Ourself?"
Xiao Nanhui stood there like a block of wood, unable to move forward or back.
He was right.
But now, did she have any better way?
"I do not know how they tracked us here. Perhaps it is by scent. If I wear Your Majesty's outer robes and leave from another exit, perhaps they will follow..."
"Xiao Nanhui, do you remember what you said?"
She blinked, then dropped to one knee to recite her vow: "I remember. As long as I have a breath left in me, I will ensure Your Majesty's safety."
"That is not the sentence Us is referring to."
Not that one?
She had said thousands of words; which one was he talking about?
Before she could ask, a thunderous boom echoed from deep within the cave. A layer of dust hissed down from the rock walls, making her cough.
In this cavern, a sound from miles away could reach every corner through the stone. To say nothing of a vibration like this.
As the echoes of the boom faded, the sound of faint footsteps began to drift in from all directions.
What was meant to come had arrived.
The divine figures on the murals watched them silently, devoid of sorrow or joy, as if this were just another ordinary day in their long vigil.
Yet the air was thick with a murderous aura—the silence before the gates of hell swing open.
The Pingxian was extended, its rust-colored patterns stained with blood. It was the final line of defense between the two of them.
Xiao Nanhui’s face was still pale, but the hand gripping her weapon did not tremble in the slightest.
She visualized the unknown terror as a pack of wolves on the wasteland. If she could not flee, she would face it. She would be the hound protecting the innocent lamb, fighting with a ferocity meant to tear the enemy apart until her final moment.
"Xiao Nanhui."
He called her name from behind, his voice so close.
She turned slightly and saw that he had removed the string of prayer beads he always wore on his left hand. He reached out, took her hand that held the spear, and placed the beads in her palm.
"Keep this safe."
She couldn't react in time. "For what?"
He actually managed a small smile. "Is there not a battle to be fought?"
Xiao Nanhui was speechless. Looking at his slender fingers, which lacked even a single callus, she gave a smile that looked more painful than crying. "Your Majesty, please stop joking."
The footsteps grew closer. The echoes within the cave blurred the chaotic sounds into a single mass, like an approaching swarm of bees.
His smile vanished. He seriously lifted Xiao Nanhui’s hand, letting the prayer beads slide onto her wrist, carrying a trace of his body heat. "When everything is over, you must put them back on Our hand. No matter what, you must do this."
What? When everything is over?
She felt that the question she hadn't had time to ask might never be asked at all.
The air stagnated. They held their breath in the moment before the storm.
In the next instant, something pierced the darkness first, whistling like the shrill cry of a crane.
It was the sound of an arrow cutting through the air.
She swung the Pingxian with all her might. The shaft of the arrow snapped, and the barbed iron head hit the ground with a clatter—the "creak" of the gates of hell opening.
Immediately, a torrential rain of arrows roared toward them. Each arrow trailed a long silver thread. If they missed their mark, they turned into an invisible web, intent on shredding the prey within to pieces.
The Pingxian in Xiao Nanhui’s hand danced like an impenetrable wall, striking down the probing arrowheads one after another.
However, the attackers soon revealed their sinister intent. An invisible blade of wind slipped through her defensive line, silently slicing open her side.
Blood surged out, but she had no time to care. Looking up, she saw An Lü standing at the mouth of a dark tunnel, silently offering her a smile.
It was the same technique she had seen on that evening when she left Bijiang.
Invisible wind blades.
How could someone command such a technique? What weapon was he using? Even the greatest martial arts master could not conjure an invisible, wounding blade out of thin air.
An Lü seemed to sense her confusion but had no intention of explaining.
"Kill her."
The dense network of fine threads around her began to rotate and tighten, intending to execute the prey within the web by a thousand cuts.
These Puhuna were even more formidable than the group they had encountered in Muerhe. Their moves were flawless, clearly the result of long-standing coordination. They methodically manipulated the threads, gradually forcing her into a corner. Those barbed arrows were like hunting tools; the moment she showed any intent to escape, they would pin her like a kite. As long as the lines were in their hands, she could not flee.
To break through, she had to find a flaw in the formation. But An Lü’s technique was waiting for her to try; the moment she deviated from the center of the formation, that eerie, invisible wind blade would strike from a cunning angle.
Only a small patch of ground remained around her. Her defense was crumbling. The sound of the threads vibrating through the air thrummed against her eardrums, making it so she couldn't even hear her own voice clearly.
"Your Majesty, get down! Get down quickly!"
Amidst the ringing in her ears, she couldn't hear if he responded, but she felt the person behind her slowly press against her back. Then, a pair of arms pulled her into an embrace.
In her shock, she couldn't react to this movement from behind. The Pingxian in her hand faltered, and a tethered arrow, sensing the opening, came flying straight at her.
The arms around her waist swung her through a half-circle. Her vision blurred, and she found herself facing two lapels embroidered with familiar dark patterns.
He had pulled her to his chest.
In that split second, she saw the barbed arrowhead like a venomous snake, tearing through the exquisite, complex embroidery and poking its head out. Warm blood splashed across her brow, accompanied by a slight, trembling current of air that felt somewhat itchy.
Her right hand held the Pingxian, while her left hand slowly reached for the man’s back. Her hand felt as if it had plunged into a pool of warm spring water; a wave of heat spread beneath her touch.
What had happened?
The cacophony around them ceased for a heartbeat, as if even the enemies were stunned by the scene before them.
Dully turning her eyes, her eyelashes brushed against the line of his jaw.
"Xiao Nanhui, you said you were not afraid of Us. Remember what you said."
His breath still lingered by her ear. In the next instant, a massive force erupted. The hair she had personally pinned up for him last night was instantly blown apart by a sharp, violent aura.
His raven-black hair scattered like a piece of shredded silk. The jade hairpin fell with a crisp sound before her eyes. Then, a heavy pressure descended, making it impossible for her to stand straight; she was forced down onto the ground.
A strange sound bored into the depths of her ears, like the sound of millions of insects devouring leaves, or a swarm of bees circling overhead. The sound came from all directions and went to all directions—dense, pervasive, and heart-wrenching.
Xiao Nanhui covered her ears, struggling to overcome the splitting headache. Then, she tried to slowly open her eyes.
What she saw was a sight she had never witnessed in her life.
Many years later, she would still remember that feeling.
The air seemed to be sliced in two by an invisible blade, then into four, sixteen, hundreds, thousands, countless pieces, until it could be divided no more.
She saw the arrows flying in mid-air dissolve into mists and vanish into the wind. The web of fine threads also vanished into thin air, like charcoal marks on a piece of paper being brushed away.
The dozen or so assassins remained standing, seemingly uncertain of what had just occurred. They maintained their offensive stances, but the weapons in their hands had turned into illusions.
The one closest to them was the first to let out a blood-curdling scream. He watched as his outstretched arm seemed to be eaten away by something, dissolving into the air.
His scream was then cut short in his throat, replaced by a strange "gurgle." His legs seemed to want to carry him away, but he couldn't move an inch. In that heartbeat, his entire body turned into a mist of blood and vanished from the space. No trace remained that a person had ever existed there.
An Lü collapsed to the ground, then turned and scrambled up the rock wall, clawing at the crevices like a madman.
The remaining men stood there, their wax-like, ruined faces showing only eyes filled with terror and trembling. Someone suddenly fell to their knees, hands pressed together, muttering something—praying that a god might hear them.
However, the divine statues on the cave walls remained indifferent. Soon, the lines of the murals began to blur, fading as if the color were being washed away, finally turning into a mist of golden light that merged into the rapidly churning, rotating air.
Xiao Nanhui widened her eyes, struggling to see, and realized that the glowing, fine powder was the pulverized remains of the rock walls. Mixed within were the gemstones and gold threads from the murals. Those beautiful, hard stones had been ground into dust by the invisible wind.
The howling of the wind grew shriller. The air distorted due to the rapid vibration. The debris caught within turned to dust, giving shape to the invisible wind, forming layers of gauze-like barriers that wrapped into a massive sphere. This sphere continued to expand, pressing against the surrounding rock walls.
Her head felt incredibly heavy; it took a great effort just to lift it.
Her fingertips dug in, wrinkling the man’s robes.
The body beneath the fabric was as immovable as stone. The barbed arrow had nearly pierced him through. She saw the blood flowing from his chest, gradually turning into fine lines, spreading into the air like the veins of a leaf, constantly expanding the terrifying eye of the storm, as if it were about to swallow the entire world.
The air grew thin. She found it increasingly difficult to breathe. Her vision darkened in waves, as if an invisible shroud had been placed over her head, slowly draining her life force.
"Your Majesty..."
She reached out with a trembling hand, brushing aside the man’s loose hair to reveal the face that was both familiar and strange to her.
He still wore no expression, but his pale face radiated a singular, haunting brilliance that made it impossible to look at him directly. In those eyes that had once been as indifferent as an ancient well, there were now only two infinitely dilated pupils—like pitch-black, terrifying voids, containing an endless depth of madness and pain.
A foreign soul dwelt there, seemingly the cold and haughty god of legend.
Under the drive of that terrifying power, his pupils began to seep blood. Lines of blood grew from the corners of his eyes, slowly crawling toward his temples.
"Your Majesty... Your Majesty... wake up..."
He did not react, as if he could hear no sound at all.
She reached for his hand. Those pale, slender hands were now like the coldest, hardest stone, impossible to move.
Only one sentence remained in her mind: *No matter what, you must put the beads back on.*
"Your Majesty!"
She screamed with all her might, praying that he might regain a sliver of his former consciousness. Yet her cry was like a bubble sinking into the deep sea; it burst and left no echo behind.
Using the last of her strength, she frantically dug her fingertips into the coarse, dry ground beneath his left hand. Sand and grit wedged under her nails, and blood seeped from her fingertips, but she felt nothing. She repeated the motion without stopping until she could slide her hand into the narrow gap.
The suffocating pressure made her hand shake uncontrollably. She gathered his fingers into her palm one by one, then slowly tightened her grip, overlapping her hand with his.
She remembered the character he had written in cinnabar on her palm.
"Su Wei..."
Her blood-stained fingertips gripped the back of his hand tightly. She pushed the string of sarira prayer beads, which she had been wearing on her wrist, back onto his hand.
*Su Wei...*
She called his name over and over again until she sank into a deep, heavy darkness.
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
色丘 | Se Hill | A place name (Sè Qiū).
洞窟 | Cave/Grotto | Referring to the location where they are hiding.
弋射 | Stringed Archery / Tethered Arrows | A method of hunting birds using arrows attached to silk cords.
灵铎 | Spirit Bell / Soul-Chime | A ritual bell used by the Nanqiang people.
平弦 | Pingxian | Xiao Nanhui's weapon (literally "Level String").
夙未 | Su Wei | The Emperor's personal name.
舍利佛珠 | Sarira Prayer Beads | Buddhist beads containing sacred relics (sarira).
