Volume III, Real Ancient Capital, Chapter 55: See also Zhuge
By Xiao Xiang Dong'Er | Translated and Arranged by Angel Chua
The night wind was cold, and bonfires were everywhere. The vast summer chronicles covered an expansive area. To the northwest was a rare red-furred snow deer, brushed with black sea gold powder, adorned with beads, and proudly displaying the Panlong (coiled dragon) emblem. Its eyes were like the cruel winter, its mouth coated with cinnabar, and its claws appeared both hideous and fierce. Two enormous cylinders flanked the grand entrance, torches flickering and dazzling the scene. High banners fluttered in the breeze, while the imperial army stood guard, their presence commanding and distinctive. In the distance, a bright yellow camp reported passively to the Big Battalion, radiating momentum and unparalleled majesty, exuding the essence of royalty in the midst of the far-off festivities.
"Son of man," A'Jing whispered quietly into his ear, his voice barely audible. "Has someone infiltrated the camp, or do we need to move?"
In the darkness, the man's brow gently raised, his voice puzzled and cold. "What is it? Is it a person?"
A'Jing respectfully replied, "I don't know, but it doesn't seem like Mu He's people."
"Let me see," Chu Qiao whispered.
Yan Xun nodded and in a low tone said, "Be careful. If there's no need to use force, come back for dinner immediately. I'll be waiting for you."
"Don't worry, it might just be Zaru's people causing trouble. I'll be back soon."
After finishing, A'Jing left for the camp.
"A'Chu?" Zhao Song called out in surprise when he saw Chu Qiao leaving. He quickly cried out and took a few steps to catch up with her.
"Thirteenth Prince, Your Highness," Yan Shi Zi gently pulled Zhao Song's arm, smiling lightly. "A'Chu just went to handle something. She'll be back. Let's go."
Reluctantly, Zhao Song walked away with Yan Xun, swallowing his words. Even as he walked away, he couldn't help but look back.
The cold wind mixed with snow, and from a distance came the sound of hooves. Flames from the torches on both sides gradually became scarce. The dark sky, pierced by the cold moon like a knife, was scattered with stars. The sky appeared vast and distant, with the occasional goshawk winging through, its cry echoing with a sense of longing.
In the blink of an eye, eight years had passed since she had come to this foreign dynasty. Life had never given her a chance to feel human. The hostile environment, endless killings, and bloody tragedies had forced her to keep fighting and fleeing. There were too many unknowns, too many uncontrollable conspiracies and traps. She didn't know where to hide. In those moments of desperation, she couldn't stop moving forward. She wasn't born a killer, nor a thief. All she wanted was to survive and hold on to the simple values of good and evil that still lingered in her heart.
A heartless world, where everything was expendable. At the edge of the world's collapse, if she could just seize control, perhaps she could overturn its blade of destruction.
"Heee!" Chu Qiao shouted, speeding across the open snowfield as though ten horses were chasing her.
From a distance, another set of hooves could be heard. A black figure riding alone across the vast, snow-covered mountains appeared. Chu Qiao, seeing few others around, urged her reluctant warhorse onward. Her brow furrowed sharply as she muttered coldly, "It looks like a girl, if I'm not wrong, heading toward our camp."
Yan Wei stepped forward, shouting to the distant figure, "Hey! Who are you?"
Before there was time to breathe, a sharp knife cut through the air like lightning, its murderous intent aimed directly at Yan Wei. His roar echoed under the lonely night sky.
With a loud clang, the sword struck, bursting into glaring sparks in the darkness. A swift, refined hand parried the blade, pulling back and snapping, "Who dares to attack so viciously?"
The man, noticing the number of people ahead, cunningly turned westward to flee. Chu Qiao saw this and, raising her brow, whispered urgently, "Chase!" The crowd roared and began the pursuit.
The distant mountains loomed dark, with dense forests shrouded in shadow. A huge, snow-covered beast-like formation lay ahead, the sound of countless horses' hooves kicking up snow, whistling through the air.
Suddenly, a large number of troops appeared in front of them. The war horses moved silently but with a steady, ominous rhythm that betrayed an undercurrent of murder. Chu Qiao, taken aback, pulled up her horse quickly. Before she could speak, Yan Wei's black-clad men raised their crossbows, taking aim across the majestic field.
"Who's there?" came a sudden cry from the darkness.
The storm of violence began before anyone could clearly see the opposing side. The black-clad soldiers alongside Yan Wei sprang into action, arrows flying as swords clashed in rapid succession. The speed and precision of the counterattacks were astonishing.
"Stop!" A'Jing shouted, "Wait! We are not—"
His words were cut off when a sharp arrow flew from a bow. Chu Qiao, with keen reflexes, kicked her horse into motion, flying through the air. She lashed out with her foot, hitting the attacker squarely in the abdomen. The man doubled over in pain, his body bending from the impact. Moments later, the sound of a muffled thud echoed through the cold air—the arrow had embedded itself in his shoulder, narrowly missing vital organs but still causing intense pain.
Chu Qiao's brow furrowed with anger. Indiscriminate killing without understanding the situation—unacceptable. The girl in white fur leaped down from her horse, kneeling on one knee, her giant crossbow at the ready. Her expression was serious, eyes cold like a predator's, piercing through the night. The wind blew strands of hair across her face, her gaze as sharp as a flashing blade.
"Fire!" came the command.
An arrow shot forth from Chu Qiao's bow, fast as lightning, leaving a bright trail in its wake. The air seemed to spark as it cut through the night, its deadly force aimed with precision.
At almost the exact moment, another bowstring twanged from the darkness, an arrow speeding toward Chu Qiao.
The two arrows flew along the same path, hurtling toward each other with incredible speed. In the blink of an eye, the two collided mid-air with a deafening crack, fragments scattering like fireworks across the vast snow-capped mountains.
Chu Qiao moved with lightning reflexes, constantly shifting her body as she adjusted the trajectory of her arrows. She shot seven consecutive arrows, each time expertly countering the other side's ghost-like movements, their arrows meeting hers mid-flight.
In the midst of the battle, the only sounds were the gusts of wind and the eerie, rhythmic twang of bowstrings. Arrow after arrow met its mark in mid-air, each collision sending sharp splinters scattering into the night. It was a true test of skill—a deadly, tit-for-tat exchange between equally formidable opponents.
The drastic sounds of battle suddenly faded into silence. Chu Qiao's sharp eyes narrowed slightly as her fingers lightly touched the last three arrows in her quiver. She waited quietly, timing her next move with precision.
Suddenly, the wind rose, swirling snow into the air, blinding everyone in its path. Sand and snow whipped around furiously. Chu Qiao released the three arrows at once. Two shot into the darkness immediately, streaking forward like meteors bursting into the cold night. The sound of arrows snapping filled the air as they collided mid-flight, crumbling into powder. The wind howled, carrying the third arrow like it had eyes, guided by the wind and flashing toward its hidden target.
Chu Qiao moved with beast-like agility, her body erupting in violent, explosive energy. She dropped her crossbow to the ground and leaped into the air, twisting to dodge incoming arrows. She rose using the power from her waist, but a loud bang echoed as a sharp arrow passed dangerously close, grazing her neck and leaving a dark red bloodstain.
"Girl!" Yan Wei shouted in alarm, rushing toward her in distress. Chu Qiao stood up slowly, her hand pressed to the bleeding wound on her neck. Her eyes, calm and cold, scanned the darkness in the distance.
She knew the archer had survived her killing arrow, just as she had barely escaped theirs. Both had suffered minor injuries but lived to fight another day.
The night grew still and heavy, the cold air filled with an eerie silence. Even though the opponent was far off, hidden in the deep shadows of the forest, Chu Qiao could still feel their sharp, icy gaze locked on her.
Suddenly, a whistling eagle pierced the sky, soaring over the dark expanse that lay between the two parties. A vigorous shadow shot up from the ground, someone among the black-clad soldiers who had been lying in wait. Like a projectile, the figure bolted from the scene, trying to escape the dangerous standoff.
Almost at the same moment, Chu Qiao and her opponent simultaneously drew their swords. With a powerful swing, Chu Qiao hurled her blade toward the fleeing figure. Her opponent did the same, both swords cutting through the air like thunder. The man's eyes widened in shock, unwilling to accept his fate, but he could only watch as two blades pierced his chest. With a heavy cry, he collapsed into the snow, lifeless.
Time passed in tense silence, neither side making a sound. Yan Wei cautiously stepped forward, but when there was no response from the other side, he called out, "To our friends on the opposite side, we've only seized thieves. This is all a misunderstanding."
Still, there was no answer from the other side. After a while, Yan Wei and Zuo Tang rode ahead, the sound of their horses' hooves breaking the silence.
"Girl," Zuo Tang called as he dismounted, handing Chu Qiao a sword. "Your sword."
Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow and asked, "Who was that person supporting the other one?"
"I don't know," Zuo Tang replied honestly. "The other side wore a black fur coat. It was a very ordinary style, nothing recognizable."
Chu Qiao gave an indifferent sneer, nodding slightly. She took the sword from Zuo Tang, but her brow creased in confusion.
This sword was rare, simple in style, with a thin blade and faint bloodstains. The edge was sharp, gleaming in the pale moonlight like mercury. The hilt was wrapped in golden silk, with two ancient characters engraved in the seal: "Broken Moon."
Chu Qiao frowned, rubbing the hilt with her fingers, and coldly muttered, "This is not my sword."
Zuo Tang, startled, quickly suggested, "We should find them and exchange it."
But before the words had fully faded, the sound of whistling hooves came from the opposite side. The snow churned into a fog, and in a flash, the other party disappeared into the night.
"You won't catch up with them," Chu Qiao said quietly.
The girl spoke slowly, the sound of rustling accompanying her movements as she used her backhand to slide the sword back into its sheath. To her surprise, the sword fit perfectly into her own scabbard.
"Take the man's body back. A'Jing, return to camp for treatment. The rest of you, come with me to the Royal Plaza," she commanded.
With a turn of their horses, the group set off.
When they arrived at the square in front of the Royal Bank, it felt like entering another world, full of the rich aromas and laughter of those enjoying roasted meat. Chu Qiao handed her unarmed blade to the guards and led the half-army toward a large tent, which they swiftly occupied.
The tent was vast, filled with 36 seats arranged along the sides. Conversations buzzed throughout the space, and many had already arrived. As the emperor had yet to appear, the atmosphere was bustling, with people crowded together, waiting for the evening's proceedings.
Chu Qiao, despite her pro-identity, couldn't afford to linger. She made her way straight to the quieter section of the tent. Sure enough, there was Yan Xun, wearing a white robe, his handsome face calm as he quietly sipped tea. Beside him, Zhao Song fidgeted impatiently, scratching his head.
"A'Chu!" Zhao Song cried as she approached. Without waiting for a response, he noticed her wound and exclaimed in alarm, "What happened? Why are you injured?"
Though it was only a bruise on her neck, the wound had bled. Chu Qiao shook her head dismissively. "It's nothing, just a minor scrape."
"How could you be so careless?" Zhao Song frowned, clearly concerned. "I'll go get a doctor."
"No need," Chu Qiao replied, holding him back. "It's just a small wound. There's no need to trouble anyone."
Zhao Song, still worried, glanced between her and Yan Xun. "What do we do then?" he asked, uncertainly.
Yan Xun's eyebrows knit slightly as he looked at the pale face of the girl he had known for years. He could read her well and understood when to push and when not to. He spoke softly, "Are you alright?"
Chu Qiao nodded firmly. "I'm fine."
Seeing their quiet understanding, Zhao Song suddenly felt excluded, his frustration bubbling up. He sighed, his expression deflated. "I'll go get some golden ointment for you," he said, turning to leave.
After he had gone, Chu Qiao leaned forward, whispering, "Zaru's men stole the secret box from your camp. I dealt with them."
Yan Xun frowned. "That box is worthless, just a decoy. Why risk yourself for it?"
"Zaru's men don't have the skills for this," Chu Qiao replied, gently touching the wound on her neck. "What happened was unexpected. The real mastermind is in the capital. Do you think anyone of importance would return without their experts?"
"The mastermind is in the capital?" Yan Xun raised an eyebrow, his expression becoming more elusive. "That explains quite a bit."
"Brother!" A flirty voice rang out across the tent.
A girl in a bright, sassy dress, surrounded by her entourage, was laughing as she made her way toward them. However, as she approached, her laughter faded, and her face grew cold upon seeing the person beside Yan Xun.
"Why is she here?" she demanded icily.
Chu Qiao stood up and respectfully bowed. "Eighth Princess."
Zhao Chun, however, ignored Chu Qiao and stormed straight to Yan Xun. She sat down with a huff, her eyes narrowing. "You haven't come to see me these past few days. Is it because she's back?"
Yan Xun stood, speaking politely but firmly. "I feared disturbing you, Princess, while you were resting."
"Well, you came running the moment she returned." Zhao Chun pointed an accusing finger at Chu Qiao, her tone sharp. "Who permitted you to bring this humble servant here?"
As her voice trailed off, Yan Xun's expression turned cold. His brow furrowed, and he spoke slowly, "Princess, you are a cherished jade leaf. Why speak in such a way? A'Chu is here under my authority, and I will not tolerate insults toward her."
Zhao Chun's lips trembled as her eyes filled with tears. Bitterly, she stomped her foot, saying nothing in response to Yan Xun's words. She pointed at Chu Qiao once more, shouting, "You'll regret this!" before turning to leave, her entourage hurrying after her.
Chu Qiao sighed, her voice chilly. "Why provoke her? I can leave."
Yan Xun's voice, deep and calm like the flow of a mountain stream, was deliberate. "When I was young, I could only endure such things because I had no choice. But now, if I still need to swallow these insults, then all of my efforts over the years would be meaningless."
He sat back down and quietly sipped his wine, looking handsome and serene, his white robe glowing in the dim light, like a figure out of a painting.
Suddenly, a gust of cold wind blew through the door, catching everyone's attention. They turned to see a young man in a purple robe with white fur step inside. His majestic hair and sharp features—eyebrows like swords, eyes like cold stars—made him look like a blade unsheathed, exuding a powerful, dangerous aura. He was tall and straight, but there was an unmistakable bruise on his neck, tinged with blood, hinting at the fierce struggle he had just survived.
Chu Qiao's pupils suddenly tightened, and her eyebrows furrowed deeply.
"Fourth Young Master," the Seventh Prince called out, his voice light and breezy as if carried by the spring wind. "You've certainly outshone us all. Your style is as sharp as ever."
Zhuge Yue's lips curled into a faint smile, his aristocratic demeanor apparent as he stood among the crowd. Gone was the eccentric paranoia of his past. Seven years of experience had honed him like a sword freshly unsheathed, ready to shine brilliantly at any moment.
The lights flickered, casting a jubilant glow over the gathering. Zhuge Yue's gaze swept through the crowd, cutting through the laughter and conversations, until it finally landed on the last seat in the corner.
Yan Xun sat quietly, sipping his drink, his posture upright and elegant. His broad back completely shielded the woman behind him from Zhuge Yue's penetrating gaze.
"Yan Shizi, I hope you've been well," a deep voice called out, echoing across the room.
Yan Xun looked up, his lips breaking into a smile as he rose to greet the newcomer. "Zhuge brother, it's been a long time."
Zhuge Yue's cold smile remained as his gaze shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing as they focused on the woman behind Yan Xun. His voice softened, laced with intrigue. "Star child, do you not recognize me?"
Time had passed, but the years had not erased the scars of fate. Seven years had churned the sands of life, bringing with them change, yet once again, those bound by the blade stood at the precipice of destiny.
Chu Qiao looked up, her expression calm and her eyes indifferent, as if the weight of her past no longer held sway over her. With a light smile playing on her lips, she spoke, "Zhuge Fourth Son, famous throughout the world—who wouldn't know him?"
AC Afterthoughts on Zhuge Yue in this Chapter:
Zhuge Yue's reappearance in this chapter marks a pivotal moment in the narrative. Once a figure shrouded in paranoia and eccentricity, Zhuge Yue has evolved into a character of undeniable power and presence. His transformation over the past seven years is stark—he is now likened to a sword unsheathed, sharp and polished, exuding a controlled, yet dangerous charisma. His aristocratic grace remains, but there is a new edge to his personality, one that suggests he has become more than just a nobleman; he is now a force to be reckoned with.
The interaction between Zhuge Yue and Yan Xun carries the weight of history. Though their words are cordial, there is an unmistakable tension between them, rooted in their past and the complicated ties of fate that bind them. Zhuge Yue's attention to Chu Qiao, the "Star child," is particularly telling. His recognition of her and the subtle intrigue in his words suggests a connection that goes beyond mere acquaintanceship. This moment underscores that despite the passing of time, old wounds and memories linger, ready to resurface when the paths of these complex characters cross once more.
Zhuge Yue's calm yet calculating demeanor hints at a man who has learned to wield both power and restraint. His cold smile, his ability to command attention with just his presence, and the sharpness in his voice all reveal that he is a character who has grown, not just in influence, but in his ability to navigate the treacherous waters of court politics and personal rivalries.
In this chapter, Zhuge Yue emerges not just as a foil to Yan Xun, but as a formidable figure in his own right. His presence immediately shifts the dynamic, and it is clear that he will play a significant role in the unfolding events. His past with Chu Qiao, hinted at in his cryptic words, adds another layer of complexity to his character, suggesting that Zhuge Yue's motivations may be deeply personal, and perhaps, unresolved.
Zhuge Yue's reintroduction sets the stage for an inevitable clash of wills and fates, one that promises to explore not only his power and cunning but also the lingering emotions that still bind him to those from his past.
This chapter masterfully builds tension, drawing the reader into the complex web of politics, strategy, and survival. The contrast between the cold, brutal environment and the internal conflict of the characters—especially Chu Qiao—adds layers of depth to the narrative. Her eight years of struggle within this foreign dynasty show the relentless pressure she faces, constantly balancing between her moral compass and the demands of survival.
The interactions between Chu Qiao, Yan Xun, and Zhao Song hint at a complicated dynamic where trust, duty, and personal relationships are delicately interwoven. The presence of powerful forces like the Zaru people and the mysterious master in the capital heightens the stakes, signaling that much more is at play than what meets the eye.
As the narrative progresses, it's clear that Chu Qiao's journey is not just physical but deeply emotional and psychological. Her determination to survive while maintaining her humanity in a ruthless world positions her as both a compelling and tragic figure. This chapter leaves readers eager to understand how Chu Qiao will navigate the challenges ahead, and whether she will remain steadfast in her principles or be forced to compromise for survival.