The western wind has swept away the snow of the Dragon Sands.

Xu Guiyi’s face was ashen as she drew the Empress closer, sweat beading incessantly on her brow. The path wound through mountains, and dusk was already falling, making their plight even more dire. Outside, chaos reigned; the wailing wind and the sound of blades piercing flesh mingled in the air, chilling one’s heart to the core.

The carriage raced onward, the ride growing ever rougher as a large group of men in black closed in. Their guards fell one after another, and the path ahead looked grim. Surrounded by so many escorts, their carriage became an obvious target—too many people, too slow to escape. She needed a plan, and quickly.

Earlier, the deputy commander of the Imperial Guards had mentioned a royal post station nearby, suggesting the Empress be escorted there for safety. But at the way things were going, Xu Guiyi feared they would all perish before reaching it.

Resolving herself, she struck the Empress and Xiyue unconscious with a swift chop, then summoned several guards to quickly transfer them onto horseback. The commander himself led a detachment to protect them, and with light cavalry, they soon vanished into the gathering night.

A fine drizzle began to fall from the darkened sky. Xu Guiyi gripped Qingyu’s wrist, pressing a longsword into her hand. Her words were urgent and swift. “Qingyu, your horsemanship and martial skills are unmatched. Now, I need you to take a team, disguise yourself as me, and lure the assassins away.”

Qingyu, a shadow guard of the Pei household, was one of the few remnants left after the Emperor’s purge of the Pei clan. Realizing Xu Guiyi’s intent, she clutched Xu Guiyi’s hand anxiously. “What about you, Your Highness? Won’t you come with us?”

Xu Guiyi could spare no more words. “I must keep the carriage and make the assassins think the Empress is still inside. Go, quickly!” She unfastened her own cloud-patterned cloak and tied it around Qingyu, urging her toward a waiting horse.

But Qingyu refused to leave. Xu Guiyi, desperate, shouted, “It’s life or death—if you hesitate, we all perish here! If anything happens to the Empress, how am I to answer to the Crown Prince? Besides, by drawing away some of the assassins, you lessen the danger for us all. I’ll find a way to join you. Trust me—go!”

She pushed Qingyu onto the horse and ordered a group of guards to escort her, galloping off in another direction. The assassins, seeing this, split up, believing the Crown Princess had left the carriage.

Xu Guiyi returned inside and pressed onward. The night was moonless, wind and rain lashing against the carriage. She gripped her sword tightly, thoughts racing, eyes sharp and unyielding—missing nothing.

She refused to believe this was a senseless assassination. Even if she were to die tonight, she would uncover the cause. As she pondered, a volley of arrows came whistling through the air. Someone shouted, “Your Highness, beware!”

In an instant, the carriage’s frame splintered under the force of the arrows, its protection gone. Xu Guiyi wasted no time, seizing her Solitary Bloom Sword, leaping onto a horse with practiced lightness. She had trained in martial arts years ago—though rusty, the skills came back to her.

By the latter half of the night, dawn’s faint light crept over the horizon. Xu Guiyi rode hard but was soon encircled by the assassins. Only fifty or sixty Imperial Guards remained, while the attackers numbered nearly a hundred. The leader, a burly man in black, directed his men to form a ring around them.

A guard pointed his sword at the leader and rebuked him loudly, “Who dares assault the Crown Princess’s carriage?!”

The assassins conferred briefly, having likely realized the Empress was not within, only Xu Guiyi. The leader paced with his sword, hawk-like eyes counting their numbers. “Our master’s orders are clear: blood must be shed before we withdraw. If the Empress has escaped, killing the Crown Princess will suffice to answer for our task.”

“Kill them!” At his command, the assassins surged forward like a tide, and battle was joined anew. Xu Guiyi’s swordsmanship was formidable, but the numbers were overwhelming. After an endless struggle, only twenty or so guards remained at her side, retreating step by step until they found themselves at a sheer cliff.

...Was this the end?

Xu Guiyi had never imagined she would die at the foot of some nameless precipice. The first light of dawn revealed how trapped they were, most guards gravely wounded. Unwilling to die at the assassins’ hands, she glanced at the cliff behind, but the watchful guards pulled her back before she could take another step.

She had barely regained her balance when a crossbow bolt whistled toward her, but someone grabbed her waist, rolling her to safety. More assassins emerged, seemingly endless in number.

A team of black-clad men advanced, each wielding a compact crossbow, firing in quick succession. Another group of Imperial Guards fell.

Heaven itself seemed bent on her destruction. Xu Guiyi closed her eyes, steeling herself for death. Then, opening them wide, she cried out, “If I am to die, I must at least know the truth! Who sent you?!”

The leader replied calmly, “Your Highness, better to ask the King of Hell. We bear you no personal grudge—only carry out orders.” With that, he swung a great saber as tall as a man and leapt at her. His force made Xu Guiyi step back.

“Look out!” a guard shouted. One threw himself in front of her, cleaved in two by the blow. Xu Guiyi knew both sword and saber well enough to fend for herself for a while. But watching the guards fall for her, she felt her own sword powerless in her hands. So many had died for her again.

How many times since the eighth year of Chengxiao had people died on her behalf? She could no longer remember.

In her terror, the nearest guard charged the assassins, dying valiantly. Tears streamed down Xu Guiyi’s face as she cradled a wounded guard, her voice filled with grief. “My fate ends here. You all must save yourselves...”

“If any of you survive, give the Crown Prince a message: in this life, I owe him nothing.” At least the Empress escaped—she had repaid Fu Lanchen in some measure. She owed him far too much already.

As she finished speaking, a volley of crossbow bolts flew toward her. Struck by one, she staggered to the cliff’s edge. Glancing at her Solitary Bloom Sword, she gave a bitter laugh, then turned and leapt into the abyss without looking back.

Wind howled past her ears, and she heard many voices calling her name: “Crown Princess! Crown Princess!” But the wind was too swift, the voices fading, and even her sword slipped from her grasp, plummeting into the void.

In the sixteenth year of Chengxiao, late April, the Empress’s carriage was ambushed on the way back to the capital through the Five Elements Mountains. The Crown Princess Xu was struck by arrows and fell from a cliff, her fate unknown.

On that dim morning, the Emperor, in the bed of his favored consort of the Southern Palace, learned of the attack and awoke in shock, immediately dispatching thousands of Crane Guards to assist.

Court was suspended that day.

By midday, the Crane Guards had located the Empress, sheltered in a monastery, but the Crown Princess was nowhere to be found. Following the trail of battle, they reached Zhaoguan Mountain’s cliffs, where only the corpses of a dozen Imperial Guards remained.

Commander Zhao Gao dared not delay, personally escorting the shaken Empress back to the palace. The remaining guards scoured every inch of the mountain, but no trace of the Crown Princess could be found.

In the Hall of Eternal Autumn, physicians came in waves. The Empress, traumatized and devastated by the news of the Crown Princess’s disappearance, fainted repeatedly. The Emperor, too, was stunned, unsure how to relay the news to Fu Lanchen, so far away on the western frontier.

Without the Emperor’s command, the Crane Guards dared not act. Another night passed before a messenger was dispatched to the west at breakneck speed.

Fu Lanchen received the news five days after the incident. He had just finished inspecting the Left Camp and was about to visit a nearby pasture. Sensing something amiss, he noticed the atmosphere change abruptly. In an instant, a row of generals behind him dropped to their knees.

Puzzled, Fu Lanchen asked if something urgent had happened, but the men’s faces were grim and silent. Seated on his horse, he pressed them. “If you only kneel and say nothing, how can I help you?”

He thought they sought a favor. After a long pause, the lead general, Shangguan, finally spoke hoarsely, “Your Highness, urgent dispatch from the capital...”

Urgent dispatch? What could have happened in the capital to warrant such haste? Fu Lanchen sensed a great upheaval and urged, “Speak—what has occurred?” Was it the Palace of Supreme Tranquility? The Hall of Eternal Autumn? Or the Eastern Palace?

Shangguan’s throat worked, and at length he replied, “...On their return to the capital five days ago, the Empress and the Crown Princess were ambushed...”

Fu Lanchen’s frown deepened, his expression freezing at the word “ambush”—not quite a smile, not quite a frown, but his gaze grew colder and colder.

The news rocked Zhang Qi, who stood behind Fu Lanchen, his eyes wide, his face turning pale. They had imagined many calamities—had the Empress or Crown Princess been gravely wounded? Kidnapped? Taken hostage? Or worse...

But Shangguan went on: “...On the day of the attack, the Crown Princess was struck by several arrows and fell from a cliff. Her whereabouts remain unknown...”

At that moment, everyone held their breath—even the desert winds seemed to stop. All eyes waited for Fu Lanchen to speak, but he only stared at Shangguan, his face growing whiter, colder, harder—like the bleak winds that forever swept the western frontier.

“Your Highness?” Shangguan called anxiously, his voice trembling. No one dared breathe. Soon, Cao You’an arrived, clearly aware of the news as well.

At last, Fu Lanchen moved. He released the reins in his right hand and pressed it to his heart, feeling a growing ache that soon became unbearable, his mind finally clearing under the sharp pain.

Amid the endless dust, someone finally spoke: “Your Highness, return to the capital!”

Alive or dead, he must return first...

On the ancient western road, yellow sand filled the sky, swirling in chaos. The sound of hooves and wind rose together, sweeping across the desert, but nothing could disturb the Crown Prince’s icy gaze.