Jianan Mountain

As soon as Great Yuan retreated, the camp's stored provisions were immediately stripped bare. Wu Yu was the one who did it; Xin Yi didn't even need to remind him, as he had already swept clean everything like a whirlwind, not even leaving a single strand of wool.

The Beiyang Army, now provisioned, was like well-fed wolves, pursuing them from Shangjin all the way into Great Yuan territory in a single push. During this time, they never directly charged the heavy cavalry, instead using hit-and-run tactics against the light cavalry. The Great Yuan soldiers' retreat path was not smooth either; the Qiyan Tribe continuously intercepted relief provisions for other tribes ahead, making their initially tentative retreat exceedingly difficult.

Xin Yi pursued relentlessly, determined not to let him reach Jianan Mountain.

However, at this time, the Prince of Tang submitted a memorial advocating for peace, citing that the people along the Jiangtang line were in a state of panic, food reserves were insufficient, and further levies on the populace might prevent them from surviving the winter. Bai Jiu's faction was the first to refute this, led by Xie Jingsheng, strongly advocating for the war faction, with Hou Ke of the Left Faction seconding.

With unrest in the imperial court, Xin Yi's pursuit time was unstable. This batch of provisions was hard-won, and with this lesson learned, Yan Jueshu would surely find ways to obstruct the next. Therefore, if Xin Yi failed to break through Jianan Mountain in one go, they would once again face their previous predicament.

It was as if everyone had made up their minds overnight.

Jianan Mountain had to be breached before spring of next year.

But unexpectedly, Arslang also seemed to have given up on waiting for reinforcements. Instead, he reorganized his troops and retreated, crashing through the Qiyan Tribe's thin harassment line, heading straight for Wan Ze, and rushing back to Jianan Mountain.

The snow on the mountaintop hadn't melted yet.

Xin Yi truly pursued them to Wan Ze.

An eagle from Jianan Mountain glided over Wan Ze, then spread its wings and soared high, breaking through the clouds with a cry as it returned to its nest.

The Beiyang Army was two days late; Great Yuan's heavy cavalry had already returned to the Jianan Mountain camp. Xin Yi bent down and grabbed a handful of snow from the ground in Wan Ze, watching the heavy hoof prints disappear without a trace.

"If we had been a little faster, we would have met him." Ji Baiyue squatted beside him, meticulously examining the hoof prints. "He rushed this time, completely different from when he left. I suspect there's a problem with the Habugeqin Clan."

"The Qiyan Tribe said that apart from the initial three times, no more relief provisions have gone to the Tatar Clan." Xin Yi watched the snowflakes fall, then looked up at the towering, formidable Jianan Mountain, mumbling, 'Perhaps he wants to return here to prove something.'

"After all, it was here that he forged the reputation of the Sky-Draping Iron Wings." Wu Yu huddled cunningly by his horse. "This is a place that can stop the Prince of Yan, so perhaps he feels safe? No matter what problem the Habugeqin Clan has, as long as the Zhadalan Tribe, led by Arslang, still holds its prestige, there won't be any major issues. Likewise," he raised an eyebrow at Aoyun, "your Qiyan Tribe won't be able to reclaim your territory and kingship either."

"This is the last battle." Xin Yi stood up. "Once we pass Jianan Mountain, and the Qiyan Tribe reclaims its territory, we will retreat."

"What about the matters afterward?" Wu Yu smiled. "I don't want to leave them to the Capital to resolve anymore."

A silence fell over them, then Ji Baiyue spoke first, "But that's not something Beiyang can decide."

"What if the Crown Prince takes advantage of the situation to split our forces again?" Wu Yu's smile faded slightly. "Beiyang can fight wars, but not as the Capital's dogs. If Beiyang can't decide what happens next, then what's the point of taking Jianan Mountain? What about the Prince of Yan? Who can guarantee that he won't immediately be ordered to surrender his troops and return to the Capital, only to be charged with fabricated crimes a few years later, just like the Prince of Ping?"

"Wu Yu!" Ji Baiyue rebuked, "What are you saying?"

Wu Yu turned his face away and said nothing more.

But what he said was all true.

What after victory? Once Xin Yi was recalled to the Capital, his military authority completely handed over, Beiyang would still be meat on the chopping block for the Crown Prince and his cronies, to be carved up however they wished. Moreover, after this matter, the Prince of Yan's prestige would rise again. Would the Emperor then remember the Old Prince of Yan?

If Xin Yi died.

Who else could Beiyang wait for?

Xin Yi mounted his horse, exhaling a puff of cold air. He said to Wu Yu, "Even if it's not something Beiyang can decide, it's also not something the Capital can decide at will. Let's go, after tonight." He looked towards the mountain peak. "Tomorrow should be a tough battle."

The next day was still a clear sky.

The Beiyang Army stood before Jianan Mountain. Xin Yi watched the majestic eagles soar from the mountain again, heard Great Yuan's thunderous war drums, and Beiyang's horns sounding in unison with the sky. His blood boiled, and even his hand grasping the Heavenly Dao was three-tenths tighter than usual.

"A little nervous," Aoyun wiped the sweat from his palms beside him. "It's almost over."

"Almost?" Xin Yi smiled. 'I hope so.'

As Ji Baiyue's Wind-Breaking Arrow shot straight through the Great Yuan banner, both sides ordered a charge almost simultaneously. The two armies suddenly clashed before the mountain, blood red tearing through the clear sky, and battle cries shaking the heavens.

Chiye charged into the opposing ranks, and Xin Yi hacked and slashed from horseback. His heart pounded fiercely, as if, besides the overwhelming killing intent, he felt an imperceptible sadness. But this sadness vanished instantly upon seeing Arslang. As Chiye moved, so did the opponent. The two men raised their sabers and charged at each other, colliding amidst a thousand horses and ten thousand soldiers.

Hacking and shouting.

Blood and corpses.

Hoarse voices and broken blades.

Countless people clashed again in the old place; the grandeur of memories reappeared before their eyes, and past unwillingness surged anew in their hearts. Both sides knew there was no retreat; they had to advance their battle lines and protect their rear. This was the most inevitable struggle and the most ferocious war.

Xin Yi was trapped in the center of the slaughter, as if it would never end.

Who knew how long.

Arslang stood on the slope, his saber planted before his feet, his horse dead behind him. Dawn broke, and he stood in the light, still resembling the spirited Lion King. He loudly and boldly declared to Xin Yi: "I guarded Jianan Mountain, waiting for Beiyang's wolves for six whole years. In those six years, I thought countless times, Xin Zhensheng died, and Xin Jing also died, dying shamefully and resentfully, regrettably and tragically! I roamed the grasslands for many years, only to remain at Jianan Mountain for the opponent of this lifetime, yet neither of them died by my blade. If in this lifetime I can no longer wait for that little wolf cub who can lead the Beiyang Army, then I will not be able to close my eyes even in death." He drew his saber and walked towards Xin Yi. "Little wolf cub! Come! Bear your father's and eldest brother's will, die by my blade, or let me die by yours! You and the Xin family of Beiyang must have a proper, honorable end."

Xin Yi drew his saber and stumbled forward to meet him. He was gasping, his mind hazy. Arslang, walking towards him in the morning light, also swayed. They had fought for an entire day and night at the foot of Jianan Mountain; both had a premonition that it was about to end.

The saber blades clashed with a clang. Arslang pressed down on Xin Yi's saber, demanding, "Who are you!"

Xin Yi gritted his teeth, raised his arm, and shouted, "Xin Yi!"

Arslang raised his foot and kicked him in the waist and abdomen, bringing his saber down. Xin Yi parried, blocking horizontally, and saw Arslang's eyes bloodshot, hearing Arslang ask again, "Who are you?"

"Xin Yi!"

Their sabers clashed repeatedly. Arslang asked again and again, as if in countless nights past he had waited with a question: who else would come, who else could be his lifelong adversary? To see a sworn enemy die by a venomous dagger was a grief no less than losing a close friend. The Lion King had sat countless nights on Jianan Mountain, watching the sun rise and set over Wan Ze. He grew older, his time gripping the saber grew shorter, and his loneliness grew heavier.

Xin Yi responded again and again, the strength of his hands on the saber hilt growing stronger in the echo, as if his father had held his hand when first teaching him to wield a saber, or as if it were the stubborn force under his eldest brother's gaze. Who was he? In this moment, he was Xin Yi, and also the dream of the entire Prince of Yan lineage as they guarded the frontier.

Xin Yi suddenly cried out, his voice hoarse as if weeping blood. He said, "I am Xin Yi! I am Beiyang's Xin Yi!"

The saber blade scraped with a 'zha' sound and plunged into Arslang's chest. Arslang's saber slipped from his hand, and he grasped Xin Yi's hand. He moved the corners of his lips, as if to give this dream a smile, but his eyes were filled with sorrow.

"Xin Zhensheng." Arslang lowered his head and laughed, his hand trembling violently, gripping tightly. He said, "Finally, I can, can—"

"Ah." Xin Yi's eyes burned, watching the eagles of Jianan Mountain behind him soar into the sky. Slowly, hoarsely, he said, "You finally lost."

The Lion King was dead.

Jianan Mountain was no longer impregnable.

The Sky-Draping Iron Wings were broken.

...Xin Yi knelt on the ground, supporting Arslang, clenching his teeth, but looked down and began to sob.

The Prince of Yan died in battle.

Beiyang broke through Jianan Mountain.

His entire family was loyal and righteous, pure and honorable, galloping freely across this land.

Xin Yi sobbed, his vision blurry and indistinct. The wind from Wan Ze ruffled the stray hairs on his forehead. Hoofbeats approached. He saw his father's horse, saw his mother and brothers. The grasslands below Jianan Mountain stretched endlessly. They rode side-by-side far from him, seemingly ready to scatter with a gust of wind, yet they clung tightly to his chest, making him stand up and live, time and again.

'...Don't go.'

Xin Yi thought, but he couldn't say anything. He collapsed in the mud, gasping for breath, tears streaming down his face. The sky was vast and boundless, without clouds or haze, calm and profound. All those things once within reach.

'They would never return.'