The wind and snow had not ceased. The pre-dawn fog pressed upon the mountain pass like an iron cage, its oppressive weight swallowing sound and light alike. The black-clad men stood motionless, entrenched in the snow like grim sentinels. Their torches flickered, casting erratic shadows that danced across their armor, lending them the appearance of venomous snakes poised to strike.
Amid the swaying firelight, the black-clad leader stepped forward, his movements precise and controlled. He raised the Seventh Prince's token high, its polished surface gleaming like a malevolent eye. His voice, cold as forged iron, cut through the stillness: "By the Prince's command, we are here to escort the General to the Capital."
Chu Hongying sat astride her horse, her posture rigid, the Riftwind Spear resting across her saddle like an extension of her will. Her eyes, sharp and unyielding, scanned the ranks of soldiers before her. When she spoke, her voice was colder than the northern winds that had shaped her: "Escort, or arrest?"
To her left, Shen Yuzhu remained still, but azure light threads stirred restlessly within his sleeves, pulsing in time with his shallow breaths. On her right, Gu Changfeng's thumb nudged his sword sheath, the blade sliding open three inches with a whisper of steel. The mist around them thickened, freezing into crystalline droplets that hung suspended in the air, and the tension between the four figures grew so palpable it felt brittle enough to shatter.
"The Emperor often thinks of your achievements in guarding the Northern Frontier," the black-clad leader said, his tone deceptively calm. Yet every word carried a sharp edge, honed by years of courtly intrigue. "However, recent treason accusations at court... this matter must also be clarified."
Chu Hongying's expression remained an unreadable mask. "If I am to go to the Capital to defend myself, you must agree to three conditions—"
"In the Capital, the word 'conditions' is most fatal," Gu Changfeng interjected with a light laugh, though his eyes held no trace of humor. Instead, they were dark with warning, reflecting the gravity of the situation.
Before his words could fully fade, Shen Yuzhu doubled over, a violent cough tearing through him. Azure light burst from his sleeves, uncontrolled and brilliant, as droplets of blood splattered onto the pristine snow like scattered rubies. Lu Wanning moved in a blur, her figure cutting through the frozen air. Three silver needles had already found their mark along the vital points of his back, her inner energy flowing into him, a desperate attempt to suppress the raging power within.
It was then that Gu Changfeng's gaze sharpened, narrowing on the black-clad leader. He leaned toward Chu Hongying, his voice a hushed murmur. "I recognize that man—the commander of the Seventh Prince's shadow guards. He was the executioner who slaughtered the Censorate three years ago."
Hearing this, the shadow guard commander's lips curled into a cold sneer. From his sleeve, he produced a broken wolf tooth, its surface stained and worn. "Do you recognize this, General?"
Chu Hongying's breath caught in her throat. For a heartbeat, it broke. The iron calm she wore like armor cracked—just enough for grief to slip through. Her pupils contracted sharply. It was the very protective talisman her father, Lu Heng, had personally tied around her neck before his final departure. The blood-stained wolf tooth still bore the tooth marks she had carved into it as a child of ten, a desperate attempt to make it forever hers.
Memories crashed over her like an avalanche, swallowing sound and time alike. She was ten again, standing in the courtyard of their home on a snowy night much like this one. Her father, tall and steady, had knelt before her, his calloused hands gentle as he placed the wolf tooth in her palm. "Ying'er," he had said, his voice soft yet firm, "if I do not return, this will protect you." Now, the same talisman had resurfaced, tainted by the touch of an enemy and stained with blood she did not recognize.
Shen Yuzhu, though weakened, noticed the slight tremble in her fingertips. Without a word, he reached out, his hand closing over hers, the cold of her iron gauntlet a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch. It was a small gesture, but in that moment, it spoke volumes.
The shadow guard commander lowered his voice, his words meant for her ears alone. "General Lu's death... is not as simple as it appears on the surface. The Seventh Prince wishes to speak with you."
But before Chu Hongying could respond, a sudden whistling sound pierced the air. The twang of drawn strings echoed through the fog like the growl of a beast, and the thick mist tore apart as dozens of arrows rained down from the heights above.
Chaos erupted. Gu Changfeng's long sword flashed from its sheath, its gleam like lightning as he struck down three crossbowmen in a single, fluid motion. Lu Wanning's silver needles shot through the air, weaving a protective barrier around Shen Yuzhu. Chu Hongying's Riftwind Spear hummed to life, its tip carving arcs through the snow-laden wind, crimson light blazing across the white plain like a vengeful dawn.
In the midst of the fray, the shadow guard commander lunged toward Chu Hongying, shoving her aside with surprising force. Three arrows meant for her embedded themselves in his back instead. As he collapsed, his breath fading, he pressed an object into her palm—a blood-stained, half-torn parchment. His lips moved again, barely forming words: "He... trusted the wrong man…" Then the light in his eyes faded, leaving the wolf tooth's gleam as the only witness.
Shen Yuzhu's breath hitched, his pulse fracturing beneath his skin. The hum of the azure light grew louder—too loud—as if the world itself was screaming through him. He forced himself to stand, raising his hands as a cyan-blue formation flared beneath his feet, expanding outward into a shimmering barrier that shattered the second wave of arrows. Chu Hongying turned, just in time to see blood drip from his fingertips, each drop sinking into the snow like dying stars. The effort cost him dearly; more blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, blooming on the snow like red plum blossoms.
When the battle ended, the mountain path lay in ruins, littered with the bodies of fallen archers. Gu Changfeng kicked one of the corpses aside, his sneer cutting through the heavy silence. "Someone wants us dead, yet fears others knowing who did it."
Chu Hongying unfolded the blood-stained parchment. Its lines and markings perfectly matched the fragment hidden within the Riftwind Spear. "This is the right half of the Lu Family's complete mechanism diagram," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.
Shen Yuzhu, leaning heavily on Lu Wanning, nodded weakly. "The left half... may be in the Seventh Prince's hands."
For a moment, the world fell silent—no wind, no breath, no heartbeat. Only the faint warmth of the wolf tooth in her palm reminded her she was still alive. Then she lifted her gaze, the dawn's light burning in her eyes. "If one never enters the tiger's den, one will never catch its cub."
As the morning mist cleared, the four stood amidst the carnage, their resolve hardening. They buried the dead swiftly, erasing traces of their presence, then split into two groups. Gu Changfeng and Lu Wanning would enter the Capital from the west gate, disguised as medicine merchants. Chu Hongying and Shen Yuzhu would infiltrate from the south, blending into a merchant caravan.
Before they parted, Chu Hongying turned to Shen Yuzhu, her voice barely a whisper. "If I ultimately become a pawn in this game, what will you do?"
Shen Yuzhu smiled faintly, too faintly. "Then I'll use what's left of me to cut through it."
"Don't." Her voice broke, just once. Then, quieter—"Don't you dare."
He inserted the golden needle near his heart, the motion steady despite the tremor in his hand. "It's already done."
The massive gates of the Capital slowly swung open in the morning light, revealing the bustling city beyond. A guard unfurled a scroll, its contents clear to all—a detailed portrait of Chu Hongying in her battle armor. She tightened her grip on the Riftwind Spear hidden beneath her cloak, its tip humming softly, as if eager for the battles to come.
"This game," she murmured to herself, her voice a blend of steel and resolve, "it's time I moved the pieces myself."