Chapter Thirty-Four: The Final Battle

Speaking of Feng Shuichen, he and Ye Pei had known each other since childhood, along with a few others who lived in other cities of the Snow Kingdom. Later, Yue Zhe joined their circle as well. Now, this generation had gradually grown up, ready to formally step onto the stage of history.

Ye Pei’s move completely ignited Lin Yufei’s fury. His younger brother’s mangled corpse had been sent back tied to a crossbow bolt. Lin Yufei, who had been discussing the next siege with his generals, immediately gathered several hundred men and charged over upon hearing the news.

“Ye Pei, you brat! You dare kill my brother—do you dare come out and face me in battle?”

Lin Yufei roared loudly before the gates of Luoshui City. Ye Pei, who had just spoken a few words with Feng Shuichen atop the city wall and was on his way down, paused at those words and returned to the battlements.

Seeing Ye Pei appear so quickly, Lin Yufei shouted again, “Come down and fight! Let me show you the price of killing my brother!”

Ye Pei’s face was still pale, his expression as cold and distant as ever. Looking down at Lin Yufei, his lips curled slightly as he replied, “You should have known this day would come when you killed my father. I haven’t even brought my men to seek trouble with you, yet you dare make such a fuss?”

Lin Yufei was enraged, about to retort, when Ye Pei interrupted, “Hmph. Next time you try to develop spies before a battle, at least find someone who can give you all the information. Take this time, for example—if you’d managed to assassinate me while I was still gravely wounded in the early to middle stages of the Wangyan season, then plotted against my father, then you’d have been truly foolproof.”

After a pause, Ye Pei continued, “However, you likely won’t have another chance to wage war.”

Lin Yufei roared, “Enough talk! Come down and fight if you dare!”

Ye Pei laughed, but his eyes brimmed with killing intent. “I’d love nothing more than to go down and end you now. But I think if I destroy you on the field of battle, my father’s soul will rest even more easily.”

With that, Ye Pei flicked his robe and turned away. Yet his voice, empowered with inner force, echoed across the city wall:

“Three days from now, the final battle at Wangyan.”

…

In the distant Star Realm.

“Qingfan.” The Star Emperor frowned slightly, calling softly.

Qingfan entered the chamber and asked, “Your Majesty, what are your orders?”

The Star Emperor said, “Recently, the Spirit Drum has sounded several times. It should be the Flame Tribe killing some key figures of the Wang bloodline. Now Wang’s Ye Linhui is dead, and these past two days the Spirit Drum has been vibrating violently. Go take a look.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Qingfan stepped to the silk-draped instrument, closed his eyes as before, and placed both hands upon it. Light shimmered around him, but this time the process took much longer.

After a while, Qingfan opened his eyes and reported, “Your Majesty, it’s the same young man as last time—he is now eighteen. Judging from previous observations of Ye Linhui, this youth is closely connected to him.”

The Star Emperor said, “How useless the Flame Tribe is. We sent Star Envoys to help them devise strategies and dealt with so many key figures of the Wang bloodline, yet not a single step has been gained. How long until the Demon Gate Valley closes?”

“Three days, Your Majesty.”

The Star Emperor sighed. “If they fail again this time... we’ll have to wait at least another twenty years.”

The morning three days later, Luoshui City.

“Marshal Duan, I leave the army in your hands.”

Duan Yaoqi had arrived at Luoshui City two days ago. Ye Pei had never intended to command the entire army for this battle and simply handed it over to the old general.

A trace of shame crossed Duan Yaoqi’s face. “After my traitorous son committed such a heinous crime, how could the Young General trust the army to this old man?”

Ye Pei waved off his concern impatiently. “For this battle, I’m just a vanguard officer in the front army. Even though Duan Xingyun colluded with the enemy, I still trust you, Marshal.”

It wasn’t that Ye Pei trusted him lightly. Of all the seasoned veterans left in the Summer and Snow kingdoms, only Feng Jing and Duan Yaoqi remained. Both had spent their lives in the army; no one would suspect men of their age of treason.

“Report—!”

The armies had just deployed before the city, and the vanguard officers were heading from central command to the front line when a scout arrived.

“Marshal, a large army under the ‘Wind’ banner has been sighted ten miles to the north; by estimate, they are now only about seven miles away.”

…

“What?!”

At that moment, Feng Xiaoyang also arrived with his army at the main battlefield of Luoshui City.

“Marshal, give the order. I believe General Feng will soon arrive with reinforcements as well,” said Ye Pei.

Thinking of Feng Jing’s temperament, Duan Yaoqi nodded. “Very well. Vanguard officers, stand by at the front line. Sound the gold drums; attack in a quarter hour!”

But in truth, no one knew that the opposing Flame army, though standing seemingly in perfect order, had already begun retreating at the rear. The reason was simple: Demon Gate Valley was closing and would be fully sealed by sunset.

Lin Yufei ought to have withdrawn immediately, but he wanted to avenge Lin Yukong before leaving, so he was now at the front, staring across the field at Ye Pei.

“Old Yue.”

“Hm?”

“Once the fighting starts, take ten thousand Ye troops north to block Feng Xiaoyang.”

“All right, no problem.”

Neither brother mentioned that Ye Pei had long relinquished overall command.

Soon, the drums of advance thundered. Ye Pei’s body tensed, he let out a long howl, drew his heavy demon-iron spear from his waist, and mounted up.

On the road to the charge, Ye Pei encountered an unexpected figure. He and the other vanguard officers rode faster than the main infantry, and suddenly Ye Pei saw a white-clad cavalryman racing in from the right.

“Young Lord Ye! My great vengeance is done—I’ve come to aid you!”

“Zhongqing!”

Jiang Zhongqing had arrived, having avenged his family and wiped out the Feng clan of Baizhou in the chaos of war.

Ye Pei nodded. Jiang’s white attire made it easy to distinguish him from the rest of the snow army’s white-armored troops.

“Zhongqing, in a moment, join Yue Zhe in intercepting Feng Xiaoyang.”

“Understood.”

Ye Pei didn’t want anyone interfering in his duel with Lin Yufei. Judging by the way Lin Yufei, commander of an entire army, was charging ahead, he clearly felt the same.

The earth before Luoshui City had long been stained crimson by nearly a year of war. Countless families on both sides—whether Wang bloodline or Flame land—had lost husbands or sons. The soldiers bore no personal enmity; some fought by order, others for their nation or people.

Upon this blood-soaked land, perhaps it was the sacrifices of those ruined lives that had bought peace and security for many more.

When the armies clashed, the cavalry felt little difference, but the infantry sensed that the Flame soldiers lacked conviction. From the first contact, there was no real urge to advance.

This reminded the Wang coalition of the recent battle where two marshals were lost, and they dared not press forward, choosing instead to await orders.

Thus, the cavalry officers on both sides feinted and fell back, leaving the armies less than fifty paces apart, glaring at each other. An awkward, tense atmosphere settled over the field.

At that moment, a scout from the Ye troops galloped up to Ye Pei and whispered, “Young General, our investigation confirms Demon Gate Valley is closing. The southern Flame forces are retreating. Only about fifty thousand remain on this field, with some already waiting at the valley.”

Ye Pei started. “Are you sure?”

The scout nodded. “We hid for a long time to confirm it.”

Ye Pei realized that Feng Xiaoyang must be planning a withdrawal. “Go catch up with Yue Zhe and his ten thousand men to the north. Tell him to avoid the main road, ambush Feng Xiaoyang in the mountains, and cut down his command.”

“Yes, sir.” The scout turned his horse and sped north.

Lin Yufei already doubted he could best Ye Pei. The scout’s report worsened his fears. Sure enough, Ye Pei spun his spear and shouted, “Full attack!”

Ye Pei and the snow army charged. The summer troops hesitated, fearing a feint, but also feared the scorn of their snowy allies. As they wavered, Duan Yaoqi, having received the same news, gave the order to attack, and the summer army surged forward.

Lin Yufei panicked, roaring, “My command! Hold the line at all costs!”

…

He had no choice. He could not retreat now. If he left, with no one else to command, the army would be routed in chaos. A full withdrawal was impossible—Demon Gate Valley was packed with troops, supplies, and logistics personnel, slow and unwieldy, unable to mount any defense.

And so, the battle flared up once more.

To the north, Yue Zhe and Jiang Zhongqing led their ten thousand to intercept Feng Xiaoyang’s rear. Feng’s troops, having taken a wrong turn, had their vanguard become the rear. Supplies and non-combatants were now ahead, so Feng ordered the main and central columns to push on while he led part of the rear in a fierce melee with the Ye troops.

…

On the battle’s edge, Feng Shuichen lingered. He was not a front-line fighter—his task was to command a volley during the charge and otherwise act as needed.

Suddenly, he heard Yue Zhe’s shout: “Feng Shuichen! That’s Feng Xiaoyang!”

Looking north, he saw Yue Zhe and a white-robed swordsman chasing a figure who was clearly a high officer. As Yue Zhe shouted, he drew his bow from horseback and shot an arrow into Feng Xiaoyang’s horse’s rump, making it bolt even faster.

“Damn it! What kind of archery is that?” Yue Zhe cursed himself, loosed three more arrows, and finally struck the horse’s leg. Feng Xiaoyang tumbled from his mount—just as Feng Shuichen, with a grateful shout, sent an arrow straight into Feng Xiaoyang’s heart as he fell.

Feng Shuichen knew Yue Zhe had left the kill for him; Yue Zhe could easily have finished Feng Xiaoyang himself, but as a non-military man, the merit was best given to Feng Shuichen.

“Ha! I’m off!” Yue Zhe drew his twin blades, wheeled his horse, and with Jiang Zhongqing, charged back into the mountains.

…

For so long, the battles had been intermittent—skirmishing, resting, and fighting again. The Flame Tribe fought and retreated, while the Wang coalition pressed relentlessly forward.

Lin Yufei had twice been unhorsed by Ye Pei, only to be saved each time by his men. Ye Pei, meanwhile, was burning with rage.

As the sun neared the horizon and Demon Gate Valley was about to close, the Flame forces grew desperate and turned to flee into the valley.

“Damn it! After them!” Ye Pei ordered, and his troops rushed after the retreating Flame army. Whether or not they heard the order, all could see the movement and followed.

To be honest, it was difficult to catch an army bent on escape, especially after a day of sporadic fighting. The fleeing Flame soldiers ran for their lives, knowing that to be left behind meant certain death. Lin Yufei remained at the rear, fighting and retreating against Ye Pei, not because he wished to, but because the fleeing mass blocked his way forward. He was left behind even as he fought, unable to break through the crush.

Soon, the bulk of the Flame troops had nearly entered Demon Gate Valley. Lin Yufei turned his horse and galloped for the entrance. In his haste, Ye Pei drew his bow and, like Yue Zhe before him, struck the horse’s right haunch, sending it veering off course and up the mountainside rather than into the valley.

Inside Demon Gate Valley, red mist swirled. Everyone knew that once the mist lifted, the lands of Flame and Wang would again be cut off.

Now, Lin Yufei’s horse had run up the slope instead of into the valley, leaving him terrified. From behind, he heard Ye Pei’s furious shout: “Lin Yufei, meet your end!”

In desperation, Lin Yufei leapt from his horse, stomped hard on its head, and vaulted toward the valley mouth.

Seeing Lin Yufei about to escape in this fashion, Ye Pei’s eyes reddened, his heart burning with resolve. Gripping his demon-iron spear, he too leapt into the air, chasing Lin Yufei mid-flight.

“Young General! Don’t!”

“Yezi! Come back!!”

Cries of alarm rang out behind him. If Ye Pei fell into Demon Gate Valley, he would enter the land of exile with no hope of return.

Yue Zhe believed that, with Ye Pei’s lightness skill, he could still turn back. To be sure, Yue Zhe spurred his horse forward and summoned his inner force to ride the wind after him, but realized mid-leap that he could not catch up to Ye Pei.

Ye Pei, already weakened by internal injuries and having barely used his inner force for days, now summoned all his strength to accelerate midair. At the very moment he and Lin Yufei plunged into the valley mouth, his spear pierced Lin Yufei’s throat.

“Ha ha ha ha ha…” Blood spurted from Ye Pei’s lips. He had no strength left to leap back to safety. Retrieving his spear, he stepped off Lin Yufei’s corpse and, laughing wildly, vanished into the swirling red mist… never to be seen again.