The Winds and Clouds of the Desert

Upon the boundless desert, human hearts are scattered like the drifting sands, desolation stretching endlessly. Perhaps someone might glimpse the beauty that lies beyond this barren expanse, but should they truly reach that other side, they would find it no different—the world holds no paradise. Better, then, to swallow the yellow sands, to drink of the wild wind! Who is to say that is not another form of heroism? Five hundred years ago, what might this place have been? Water? Mountains, perhaps? Someone once said it was not always a sea of drought!

These romantic yet helpless musings certainly would not be reflected in the people of Yunpei today, for they live in a mirage amidst the desert—a place where nights are filled with song, and days are bathed in water. In their memories, there are always strange birds singing, and ephemeral flowers blooming under moonlit nights.

"Chief, there it is—Yunpei."

Manhu's broad back stood tall and proud. As if just by reaching the borders of Yunpei, that scene of thriving civilization and vitality had somewhat quelled his thirst for slaughter.

"Hmph! Great nations are different indeed, even their outermost defenses are tight. It seems not as easy to exploit as other places!" Ruo Wen, with eyes keen and dangerous, gazed towards the distant border town of Yunpei, his posture relaxed. His steed was far taller and larger than those of the others—only with his imposing stature and agile skill could he ride upon it with such striking elegance. He tightened the reins and turned away.

"Chief?" Manhu called from behind, visibly puzzled.

"We head first to Masui in the west. It's an easier target, and if Mangliu's intelligence is correct, Masui is a ripe feast ready for the taking!" As Ruo Wen spoke, a profound smile played at the corner of his lips.

Manhu had no objections, though he was puzzled as to why the chief would trust Mangliu—a spy organization, after all, might easily give false information.

He still remembered that day, when they were intercepted on the road by a man dressed in black, just after leaving a captured city. The brothers, still exhilarated from their slaughter, had clamored to kill the audacious stranger. But to their surprise, the man proposed a deal, offering a piece of intelligence that would interest the chief for fifty gold pieces.

The chief had said nothing at first, then suddenly laughed long and loud, slashing off the man's arm with his blade, saying, "This is what you get for blocking my way. If your information pleases me, I'll give you a thousand gold as compensation for your arm. If it doesn’t, I’ll cut you into pieces! No one bargains with me!"

The man's eyes flickered—clearly well-trained—and showed no fear before the chief. Swiftly, he tended his severed arm, wrapping it tightly to stop the bleeding, while speaking each word with deliberate care: "Masui. Slave trade overflow. The king enforces no restraint. Overpopulation of slaves. Rebellion imminent. If you proceed south, Masui could be yours for the taking."

The chief studied him for a long moment, then asked, "Where are you from?"

The man answered, "Mangliu—dealers of information across all realms."

The chief smiled, tossed him a pouch of gold, and said nothing more.

There was no proof, yet Ruo Wen believed. Perhaps it was simply his intuition. Often, even with full knowledge, the correct decision isn’t assured; yet intuition—though fallible—is always the most direct and efficient. And Ruo Wen placed great faith in his intuition.

Indeed, the Huangtian Marauders had swept southward, pillaging and slaughtering many small oases and outposts, gaining countless riches and weapons. Their numbers had grown from two thousand to four thousand. Not a lot, but each was a maniac—each worth ten ordinary soldiers. They took one hundred, kept ten; took one thousand, kept fifty. Runaways, traitors, the hesitant, the disobedient, the merciful—all were killed without mercy. Any who could not keep up had no future left to tell.

Thus, one can imagine the scenes of bloodshed and carnage left in the wake of these so-called four thousand troops—a land littered with bones.

Ruo Wen! As you ride atop your wild, fierce stallion, do you still feel the same exhilaration, the same untamed passion? As you gaze deeply upon that imposing palace, is it truly the end of your desires? Who is there, who could ever calm the turmoil in your heart?

Ruo Wen! The seeds of sin are sown by fate.

To kill without restraint, to follow your whims—do you not know that one day, it all must be paid in full?

You do not know, you truly do not!

Crimson clouds tinted the horizon, appearing almost otherworldly, as if heralding the arrival of some ancient mythical beast. Golden lightning streaked across the sky, threads of pale flame rippling like silk. Who would be there, watching this world's cycles of upheaval and the loves and hatreds of those born of the yellow sands? Yet this world is beyond comprehension, for it is desolate, fading—like an old man drawing his final breath, shining with one last flicker of light. Here, there are no people, only the murmurs of memory and distant echoes of lament.

Yet this world is not one that anyone can truly discern, for it is so fallen, so desolate, like an old man on his deathbed, breathing his last, faint breath, blooming in one final flash of radiance. There is no one here—only the whispers and songs of memory.

"Officer! Let us into the city! We will not cause any trouble, please let us in! We beg you, sir!"

"We need to enter, let us through!"

"Sir, here is a small token of appreciation, please show some mercy and let my family in!"

This is the gate of Maca, on the border of Guhe, and a large number of foreign refugees are crowding in, all wanting to enter the city. At this moment, the officials in the Guhe palace are deeply worried.

The three border cities of Guhe, including Maca, have already seen many foreign refugees force their way in, and repeated outbreaks of riots and looting have occurred after they entered, forcing Guhe to close the gates. But how long can this policy last? As long as the border unrest remains unresolved, Guhe stands in grave danger.

"Your Majesty! Masui has sent a third request for aid—how should we respond?"

In the Guangyin Palace of Guhe, the ministers were anxious beyond measure. The neighboring Masui was facing an unprecedented crisis, and Guhe, positioned alongside it, had always been tied to Masui in interests. With both nations among the weakest of the five, the fate of one determined the fate of the other. If one fell, the other was destined for ruin.

King Gucha of Guhe remained silent for a long while before finally asking, "What are your opinions, my ministers? The last time we aided the border towns, the losses to Guhe were disastrous. This time..."

It was apparent from his words that Gucha was a man lacking resolve and leadership. Yet even his ministers were at a loss—what could be done?

The Huangtian Marauders.

Just the mention of their name made their chests tighten, their hearts pound. Who could have imagined that a force as dangerous as this would sweep down from the northern sky, unstoppable? Now, the capital of Masui was completely surrounded, its water supply entirely controlled, and all fifteen of its border towns had fallen. And all this, accomplished by a mere four thousand men!

According to reports, the Huangtian Marauders were nothing more than a group of northern desert bandits in the past. But who could still call them mere bandits? Bandits could lay siege to a city? Could bandits rout Masui's twenty-thousand-strong national army? No, these were no ordinary bandits!

"Your Majesty, in my opinion, we should quickly establish contact with Yunpei. If we join forces with their Red Cavalry, defeating these four thousand marauders should not be a problem!" An elderly minister offered a reasonable suggestion.

Another countered, "The plan is feasible, but the courier must reach Yunpei within three days. Otherwise, Masui is doomed, and Guhe will be on the brink of disaster! Moreover, who should go? Once outside the city, their fate will rest with the heavens."

The hall once again fell into silence—surely no one would volunteer for such a perilous task? Each person silently prayed they wouldn't be chosen for the mission. Suddenly, a heroic voice rang out: "I will go!"

All eyes turned to see the commander of the palace guards, Zhanbie, stride in with his broad shoulders and firm gaze. He walked directly to the king, knelt down heavily, and declared, "Your Majesty, though I am but a simple warrior, I know it is my duty to serve the kingdom without fear of danger. Please, let me go to Yunpei!"

Zhanbie's words were a lifeline to the other officials, who all rushed to agree. Even King Gucha breathed a sigh of relief—at least they had taken the first step. Without further discussion, they hastily appointed Zhanbie as envoy to Yunpei.

Guhe, one of the five nations, was never strong in military might. It had always thrived through commerce, maintaining close trade relations with the other great nations, the Independent Isles, and various border towns. Both Guhe and Masui were wealthy but lacked national unity; the divide between nobles and commoners was deep, leading to a weak foundation. Thus, they always relied on their alliance when faced with foreign threats, and had managed to survive amidst the five powers.

But...

Guhe, oh Guhe!A king who cannot command the nation—how can he be called a king?Ministers who cannot support the throne—how can they be called ministers?Who claims that the world's heroes arise from obscurity?Who claims that the warriors of battle are honored with a stone monument?Ah...In the end, it is but a single passion and two kinds of weariness,In the end, it is but a single blaze and two tastes of suffering!

Zhanbie returned home to find his elderly mother cooking. Her frail figure busied itself around the hearth, and his heart grew heavy. He did not know if he would ever return after leaving the city, but he believed that this was the first step towards achieving fame and glory. Though chaotic, these times were filled with opportunities, and he must seize them.

With this in mind, he steeled his heart and walked over to his mother. "Mother, I am leaving the city."

Zhanbie's elderly mother trembled, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes suddenly filled with bitter tears. Her withered hands shook as she grasped Zhanbie's sleeve. "My son! Are you... are you really going to leave your old mother behind? Do you know how chaotic it is out there? What grand deeds do you want to pursue now?" Judging by her words, it was clear that Zhanbie had always harbored ambitions of making a name for himself.

Zhanbie smiled, helping his mother sit by the table. "Mother, I will return, don't worry. Once I come back, I will have achieved great merit! We won't have to suffer this poverty anymore or endure people's disdain."

His mother looked at him with helpless eyes, knowing that once he had made up his mind, he would not change it. With a sigh and a faint sob in her throat, she said, "Let me make dinner. At least eat this meal before you go." Her frail figure swayed as she busied herself by the stove—a scene set against the earth-toned wall that could make anyone's heart silently weep.

Since ancient times, heroes have been unfilial sons. For a mother, there is nothing left but helpless sorrow.

...

That night.

Stars dusted the dark firmament, appearing on the verge of collapse. On the empty streets, solitary figures moved like apparitions, silent and fleeting. At this hour, a lone figure quietly slipped out from Camai’s city gate. Broad in build, a long black bow slung across his back, and a sack filled with feathered arrows, he walked steadily, step by step. Reaching the city outskirts, he slowly turned back for one last look at Camai, a faint flame glimmering in his gaze. "Mother, wait for my return!" he whispered as if in a dream, and without a moment's pause, sped straight through the gate. Indeed, it was Zhanbie, just recently parted from his mother, with King Gucha's handwritten letter pressed to his chest.

He sprinted without rest, not daring to slacken even a little. Under the cold desert night sky, with the pale moon hanging high, the deep blue like an abyss, the light cast over the dunes, making them rise and fall like waves—wave upon wave, swallowing everything. A small misstep could lead to illusions, ensnaring the traveler on this treacherous night path.

He ran on and on, until suddenly, a flicker of sparks caught his eye. Startled, Zhanbie thought, "Could it be Ruo Wen's men?" He slowed his pace, watching closely the shadowy figures moving by the fire. There seemed to be soft singing as well—it probably wasn't Ruo Wen. Just as he was thinking this, a yellow banner, adorned with a white crown, rose high in the firelight. Trouble. Zhanbie's body tensed as he hurriedly nocked an arrow on his bow, crouching low and probing carefully, his nerves taut.

To the people of Guhe, Ruo Wen's Huangtian Marauders were a terrifying and enigmatic force. They could celebrate wildly in the deep of night, utterly unafraid of the phantoms that seemed to haunt the desert. Perhaps they themselves were already nothing more than restless spirits, immune to such ghostly whispers.

Zhanbie kept his eyes on the group. In the middle of the torches, two bewitching women danced, their foreheads adorned with gemstones seemingly embedded into their skin—one blue, matched by her blue attire, and the other red, her garments also crimson.

The blue-clad dancer swayed passionately, her crimson lips parting seductively, like a serpent tasting the air, flickering out her scarlet tongue. The red-clad dancer entwined her pale, slender legs around the banner pole, her supple body writhing gracefully. Her eyes blazed like fire, stealing the souls of the men watching. They seemed to be the only spirits between heaven and earth, stirring the frenzied hearts beneath the starry sky.

Zhanbie's throat involuntarily tightened as he felt himself beginning to lose focus. Beads of sweat rolled from his forehead to his lips. He shook his head to clear it, reminding himself to stay calm. From the looks of it, these were merely some of Ruo Wen's soldiers having a celebration. If he left quietly now, he could easily avoid them.

Having made up his mind, Zhanbie slowly rose, took a deep breath, and like a bird skimming across water, his figure swiftly darted through the yellow dunes.

"The chief is here!"

Zhanbie's departure went unnoticed by the group, but soon, the arrival of Ruo Wen transformed the flickering torches into a blazing sea of flames. The entire sky turned red. Ruo Wen rode in on his mighty steed, breaking through the desert ground, his face like that of a god, filled with the unmistakable brutality of bloodshed.

The eyes of the crowd were full of reverence, as one by one they knelt at his feet, some even yearning for his trampling.

Upon the platform of sand, the two dancers, seeing the chief, burst into radiant smiles, one leaping into his embrace while the other leaned on him affectionately. Ruo Wen gave a wicked smile, kissing them both passionately, drawing a roar of laughter from the men below.

Indeed, the deeper the night grew, the more Ruo Wen needed women. The brothers all knew Ruo Wen’s desires were like a ghostly river running through the darkness—filled with an insatiable greed, soaring as high as the heavens. Women! Wealth! Fine food! And even the thrill of slaughter on a whim! Ruo Wen’s needs always surpassed those of ordinary men—deeper, fiercer, because he wanted more, and he wanted it with unmatched intensity.

"Chief! Ruo Lan has waited for you so long!" The blue-clad dancer boldly wrapped her leg around Ruo Wen's waist, her eyes full of passionate invitation and seduction. Ruo Wen smiled, his expression almost flippant, touching her chin lightly with one hand while lifting a goblet of strong wine with the other, drinking deeply with brazen abandon.

At that moment, the red-clad dancer climbed up as well, licking his neck with teasing touches. Her slender hands moved over his chest like a serpent, "Chief! Fei Wen missed you... truly missed you... No man here could ever compare to you!"

With that, Ruo Lan, Fei Wen, and Ruo Wen intertwined, igniting a fire that spread throughout their bodies, their passion on full display for all to see. Wild, wanton moans echoed dizzyingly in the dust of the mortal world.

This was Ruo Wen!

But where had Ruo Lan and Fei Wen come from? When the Huangtian Marauders had roamed the northern desert, they had never been seen!

In truth, these two were once priestesses of wandering desert tribes—pure as white jade, innocent and lively. But when their tribe was butchered to pieces by the Huangtian Marauders, Ruo Wen descended like a demon, his gaze ablaze with the flames of the underworld, instantly enslaving them along with their humbled hearts. He looked at the two women who had lost themselves, his face devoid of emotion. Except for a fleeting crimson shadow in his memory, no woman had ever held any autonomy in his presence.

"What are your names?" he asked, his hoarse voice as cold as ice.

"Jiaoting!"

"Huayu!"

Two trembling voices answered.

The two girls looked at the man before them through their thick lashes, his presence like that of a sandstorm tiger.

In an instant, Ruo Wen's large hands clamped down on their heads, thumbs pressing cruelly into their smooth foreheads.

The piercing pain, like having their very souls torn, surged violently!

"Aaah!"

The two girls crumpled to the ground, clutching their heads. Fresh blood seeped from their palms, running down the sides of their noses. The agony came from deep within their foreheads, yet neither dared even to frown.

When they finally released their heads, the two girls looked at each other in shock, realizing that Ruo Wen had forced red and blue gemstones into their foreheads, which now shone with a sinister glow.

"From now on, you are Ruo Lan, and you are Fei Wen! You belong to me alone!"

Ruo Wen said, his hand instinctively brushing the weapons at his waist, lingering over a spear with a repaired golden segment. He caressed it with familiarity before his figure vanished into the darkness.

Cheng Xiang had arranged for Ruo Lan and Fei Wen to serve Ruo Wen, and none dared question their presence. From that day on, the red and blue dancers became the ethereal spirits of their triumphs, time and again following Ruo Wen's domineering shadow, time and again losing themselves to the dark enchantment that seemed to bind them forever.

Masui Royal Palace.

"Still no word from Guhe?"

The anxious voice carried a tension. It was Masui's king, Gel Jinqin. Appearing around fifty, his beard grayed, his face bore deep exhaustion. His narrow eyes squinted from time to time, likely filled with suspicion of the neighboring kingdom's intentions. His fists clenched, the knuckles crackling. Guhe's inaction was undoubtedly a grievous blow to Masui.

"Fools! Fools! Does Gucha have no brains? The fall of Masui, bandits taking power—Guhe will be next! If we don't quickly form an alliance and eliminate this yellow scourge, how can peace ever be restored?" He raged, sitting irritably upon his throne.

"Your Majesty, we can hold the gates for three days at most! The fastest aid from Tiandu will take seven days, and it remains uncertain if Yunpei will intervene. Since Guhe hasn't sent troops, we ministers must protect Your Majesty's escape, in hopes of one day restoring the nation!" Several elderly ministers knelt on the ground, weighing their last options.

After this was said, silence fell. No one thought of another outcome, just as no one had foreseen they would be besieged by a mere four thousand bandits. Their city gates had fallen one after another in ten days, and now, only this central district remained—the capital, Heyan.

In reality, Masui was constructed with a concentric design—the highest authority at the center, and the poorest citizens on the periphery. The land was divided into four concentric arcs, gradually advancing inward, yet now the so-called highest authority found itself trapped in the very center, like the eye of a whirlpool.

The Huangtian Marauders began from the outermost layer, using endless gold and silver to corrupt the hearts of the people, rallying the lower classes to rise against the upper echelons. In just ten days, they advanced like a storm, and now, they stood at the gates, their legions poised to strike.

Masui, situated in the heart of the desert, controlled seven oases, with Heyan being the largest and most resource-rich. The seven oases lay close to each other, with surface and underground waters intertwining like veins. The kingdom was composed of forty-three tribes, with the Rain Tribe as the ruling class, and the Dai Tribe being the lowest. Masui had a population of over half a million, yet the gap between rich and poor was vast, with a thriving slave trade. The Masui nobles were insatiably greedy, indulging in decadence instead of strengthening their military. Now, they found themselves overthrown by the very slaves and commoners they had oppressed—a consequence of their own doing.

However, beneath the hall, the gathered officials wore expressions twisted in worry, their gazes scattered, each one looking ready to faint. King Gel Jinqin himself seemed lost in despair, his demeanor utterly dejected. What was there to fear about a siege by slaves? What was there to fear from a revolt by commoners? Yet now, glancing beyond the gates, one could still sense the inescapable stench of bloodshed.

The river ran crimson, and no one dared to drink from it. The flowers bloomed brilliantly, yet no one dared to pick them. The people beyond the gate—bewitched by some dark magic—had pledged their allegiance to Ruo Wen, their dispositions completely changed, driven to mad plundering and killing. According to spies, Ruo Wen's troops were stationed at the outermost layer, with any retreaters killed without mercy. Under the blazing sun, dried corpses lay piled upon each other, completely disregarded. Meanwhile, within the city, the citizens barred their doors day and night, the streets desolate, devoid of vitality.

"Your Majesty! Pardon my bluntness, but I believe Tiandu will not send troops to aid us. Masui is already on the brink of collapse—even if we manage to survive this crisis, it will leave us gravely weakened and unable to quell internal unrest. Our agreement with Tiandu is no more than a useless scrap of paper!" The general who spoke seemed clear-headed, understanding that minimizing losses was the only option in the current dire situation.

"Your Majesty! The reason Masui is in this situation is ultimately our own internal division. The Left Grand Councillor supports the Pro-Yun faction, advocating for good relations with Yunpei, while the Right Grand Councillor leads the Alliance-with-Tiandu faction, favoring cooperation with Tiandu. Both positions have their merits. Yunpei, Masui, Guhe, and Mizan are all neighboring, while Tiandu lies far to the north. Yunpei is rich in resources and possesses a powerful military; forming good relations with them could bring great benefits to Masui—hence, the Pro-Yun stance. Yet, as Yunpei continues to grow without showing signs of decline, one day, they will likely occupy the oases of other nations, which worries us. Therefore, the idea arose to ally with Tiandu, creating a force that could counter Yunpei, thus preserving our current situation. Thus, Your Majesty sent Princess Yuqiang to Yunpei for a marriage alliance, feigning good relations, while secretly establishing ties with Tiandu, forming the Alliance-with-Tiandu faction..."

As he spoke, he glanced up at Gel Jinqin's face. Perhaps he had touched upon the hidden concerns in everyone's hearts, for the atmosphere turned significantly quieter.

Gel Jinqin slowly closed his eyes, perhaps realizing the naivety of his decisions. A wry smile involuntarily tugged at the corners of his lips.

"So, what you're saying is, Yunpei has already seen through our intentions and will not send aid. Guhe's military is weak and will not dare to send troops without certainty. As for ourselves, we have lost our value to Tiandu and are now completely at Ruo Wen's mercy?"

Indeed, there was no point in pleading for help—no one could save them. The venom of Ruo Wen's force had already seeped into their bones. Even if aid were to come, they would first destroy the Heyan government before considering any resistance. After all, Heyan was at the center.

Ah...

Gel Jinqin sighed in pain, "We surrender. Draft a letter to Ruo Wen. The Heyan Royal Palace is willing to submit, to welcome the Huangtian Marauders within our gates. All I ask is that my royal family—one thousand seven hundred people—be spared, and that we be allowed to remain in the noble mausoleum behind Heyan Mountain, never to step beyond its borders. We will not interfere in the kingdom's affairs."

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!" The generals knelt, a resounding thud echoing throughout the hall. "We are warriors, ignorant of the intricacies of governance, but we know that surrendering on the battlefield is the utmost shame. You are the king, yet you choose to abandon the country, seeking only self-preservation. How can this command our loyalty? How can it earn the people's respect?"

Upon hearing this, Gel Jinqin's anger surged. He struck the armrest of his throne, "Silence! What else can be done now? Without my Rain Tribe, what is Masui? A nation without a king—how can it still be called a nation? If I perish, what is the use of the kingdom, of its people? Once Ruo Wen enters, who among us can earn their respect? If the royal bloodline survives, there may still be a future to fight for!"

His words were impassioned, his face flushed, undoubtedly releasing the pent-up frustration that had festered within him. The gathered officials looked on in silence, seeing their king on the brink of losing control.

Finally, the Right Grand Councillor spoke, his voice weary, "Surrender, at least to save as many lives as possible. If the green hills are left, there will be wood to burn, and we may yet find a way to survive."

With that, no one had any objections.

The sky, cloudless and boundlessly blue, turned from night to day, yet no one rejoiced in their toil. This was Heyan, the capital of Masui, and the only place that had yet to fall. But as beams of sunlight pierced through the palace of Heyan, a heart-wrenching creak echoed through the air.

Creak—!

The main gates slowly opened, revealing the ancient royal court bit by bit, as if a millennium had passed in opening them.

All knelt down, fallen leaves scattered across the stone floor. At the front, kneeling and holding a brocade tray, was none other than King Gel Jinqin of Masui.

Outside the gate, the banner of the Huangtian Marauders fluttered, and the soldiers, brimming with a menacing aura, cast bloodshot glances around them, their very breath radiating unrest and brutality. As they looked upon the kneeling king and ministers before them, their expressions were filled with scorn and disdain.

At the forefront, astride a horse, stood Ruo Wen, the leader of the yellow scourge, a mocking smile on his lips. He dismounted, his black figure stepping forward, each step shaking the hearts of the terrified onlookers, as if a demon had descended. The scorching winds raised beads of sweat upon their foreheads, glinting in the sunlight like countless diamonds in the air—a scene of mythic wonder.

Yet, this was no glorious celebration in a time of peace, but the unescapable, impending doom of catastrophe.

Ruo Wen walked up to Gel Jinqin, a thick black whip in one hand, while the other casually took the jade seal and the red jade ring symbolizing royal authority from the brocade tray. He smiled. "Fei Wen," he called to the red-clad dancer behind him, tossing her the ring. She caught it with delight, putting it on her thumb, and said, "Thank you, Chief, for the reward!" She then turned to taunt the blue-clad dancer beside her, who eyed her with unconcealed envy.

Ruo Wen paid no further attention to those kneeling before him, and entered the grand hall, sitting down without ceremony upon the king’s throne. Instantly, it was as if the palace had found a new master, gleaming with renewed brilliance. Manhu, Luoying, Langtou, Cheng Xiang, and others followed him inside, standing in two lines to his left and right, as if they had returned to their encampment in the northern desert.

"Tell them to get lost!"

Ruo Wen leaned back on the broad throne, his expression dark and menacing.

Hearing this, Manhu turned and walked to the palace gate. "Get out! Why are you still kneeling there?!"

Gel Jinqin, drenched in cold sweat, slowly put down the tray he held, mustering the courage to ask, "The... the royal jade seal, please accept it."

Manhu let out a malicious laugh, frightening the kneeling crowd, each trembling in fear.

"Didn't you hear me?! Get lost! Brothers, whoever wants that worthless thing can take it!" he said to the soldiers lined up by the door. Gel Jinqin and the ministers were stunned. Ruo Wen had become so arrogant that he treated the jade seal as mere stone—a thing that countless people would sacrifice their lives for.

Yet there was only a chilling silence, no one stepping forward to take the jade seal.

"No one wants it? Then forget it!" Manhu waved impatiently, turning back to Gel Jinqin, "Get lost!"

Gel Jinqin shivered and raised his head to look at Ruo Wen. At that moment, the blue-clad dancer beside Ruo Wen's eyes brightened.

Gel Jinqin spoke, "We shall abide by the terms of surrender, retreat to the noble tombs behind Heyan Mountain, and never return to this palace in our lifetime. At this moment, we sing praise to the new king, so that he may be revered for generations."

As soon as he finished speaking, Ruo Wen let out a faint, quick, yet venomous chuckle—like a raindrop suddenly breaking the calm surface of a lake, heralding a torrential downpour.

He said nothing more, nor did he look at Gel Jinqin.

At this point, the blue-clad dancer approached, her voice coy and flirtatious. "Chief! Ruo Lan also wants a reward!" She knelt by his knee, her jade-like hand ambiguously caressing the hand Ruo Wen had rested on the side of the throne.

"Oh? What have you set your eyes on?" Ruo Wen glanced at her.

"I want those blue gemstones!" Ruo Lan's bewitching finger pointed towards Gel Jinqin.

And indeed, there was a pair of sky-blue gems!

Gel Jinqin trembled, falling to the ground in terror.

"You... you..." His face turned ashen, his words incoherent.

Only those sapphire eyes stared at Ruo Wen with terror.

Ruo Wen responded icily, "Gouge them out!"

In an instant, a shrill scream echoed through the grand hall, followed shortly by dead silence.

Amidst this silence...

Nearly three thousand of Masui’s nobility were relocated to the noble tombs behind Heyan Mountain.

The forest was void of birds, and the streams devoid of fish.

Several ministers helped their eyeless king into the largest mausoleum.

Gel Jinqin lay on a bed, his breath faint, lips darkened, his body trembling uncontrollably. Yet he clung tightly to the royal jade seal, murmuring ceaselessly.

"No lineage greater than the Rain Tribe... The jade seal... in hand, the world shall prosper... Take this... as a testament... I... I shall be king!" He muttered these words repeatedly, which were surely from the proclamation on the day of his enthronement.

With a sigh, the gathered ministers could not help but feel sorrowful. In a single day, the dynasty had changed hands—a common enough occurrence in history, yet how many had witnessed such a calamity as today’s Masui? In ten short days, the royal palace had changed rulers.

Who would believe it? And yet it was an undeniable truth.

That night, rare lights blazed behind Heyan Mountain. Surrounding the tombs knelt figures in white robes. Who else could it be? The nobles and ministers of Masui, who once basked in such glory, now desecrated the spirits of their ancestors, forced to share their final resting place—what a grievous sin!

Three thousand people, in mourning garb, knelt before their family tombs, kowtowing and wailing, begging for their ancestors' forgiveness.

Their hearts frozen by a chilling despair, the cries echoed one after another, seeking solace for their lost souls.

"Fire! Fire, there's a fire!"

Amidst their sorrow, a scream came from the edge of the woods.

The figures in white stood up in panic, looking around in terror. The tomb complex was surrounded, the intruders all wielding torches and fiery arrows, their gazes ruthless. The nobles in white huddled together in fear. A thousand pairs of eyes looked at the approaching figure—Manhu, astride his horse, his face illuminated by the wildly flickering flames.

"Burn it!" he ordered, and in an instant, arrows rained down, engulfing everything in a sea of fire.

The descendants of Masui’s royal family, trapped within the flames, screamed in agony.

"Ruo Wen! Ruo Wen! You broke your promise! You will not die in peace!"

The elderly ministers of Masui, engulfed in flames, had reached the end of all hope. They shouted fiercely at Manhu.

"Ruo Wen! You treacherous villain! Heaven and earth shall condemn you—you will be left with nothing but bones!"

"Yellow scourge! Even in the underworld, I will watch, I will see your flesh turned to paste, your bones to ash! Today you destroy my clan—tomorrow another shall destroy yours! The cycle of retribution shall not spare you!"

"Hahaha! Ruo Wen without question, Ruo Wen without return! I await..."

Their cries were cut short as Manhu’s gaze darkened. "Shoot them!" he commanded.

In that instant, those who had been shouting curses were pierced by countless arrows, dying in tragic agony.

The fire and blood seemed like the smoke of a past life, returning to the world with Ruo Wen's merciless wrath.

Manhu, gazing upon the scene of devastation, wore an expression of twisted excitement, clearly pleased.

Seeing the burnt woods reduced to ashes, and with no more voices of mourning, he spoke nonchalantly.

"If you have the guts, come back as ghosts! If I fear you, I'll wear my pants backward! Damn it, from the gods above to the ghosts below—who could ever challenge our chief? The world has no promises to uphold. If you want something, take it! What good is that jade seal to us? Can it fend off my bloodthirsty cavalry? Can it keep me from storming the gates and entering the palace? Bah! How foolish!"

The next day, Heyan Royal Palace once again.

Yet now, the one seated upon the throne had changed.

Ruo Wen's expression was mocking as he looked upon the kneeling crowd below. He couldn't help but sneer, his eyes narrowing, signaling Cheng Xiang to read out the decree.

Cheng Xiang cleared his throat, then spoke loudly.

"Masui has fallen; a new king takes its place! The Huangtian Marauders shall be the national army; the country shall be named Fentian, and Heyan Palace the administrative seat. The Nine Absolutions and One Execution are hereby proclaimed as the nation's law—

First, killing is absolved. Second, brawling is absolved.

Third, scheming is absolved. Fourth, robbery is absolved.

Fifth, fraud is absolved. Sixth, rape is absolved.

Seventh, extortion is absolved. Eighth, entrapment is absolved.

Ninth, theft is absolved—these are the Nine Absolutions!

Tenth, those without desires shall be executed—this is the One Execution!

From here on, all decisions shall follow the lead of the new king, Ruo Wen. Should anyone be dissatisfied, step forward to challenge now!"

As he finished, the court erupted in cheers—who would dare to challenge?

Ruo Wen rose abruptly, exuding an aura of domineering arrogance. He continued, "The decrees of Fentian are made without regard for the surrounding realms, self-governed and self-sufficient. Heyan shall become the capital of desire, and from this day forth, nothing shall be forbidden!"

Under the vast sky, a wave of madness surged.

The once resplendent palace now filled with a chaotic fervor, echoing the unstoppable power of tyranny in the aftermath of war.

Fentian. Proud and solitary, it stood at the center of the dark desert, defiant and unyielding.

Guhe Royal Palace...

There was now nothing left but endless anxiety. Masui had fallen, and Ruo Wen had no intention of forming an alliance. With a great enemy at the gate, hearts were restless.

At that moment, the border general, Luo Jikeda, returned swiftly, excitement written across his face.

"Your Majesty, I have dispatched men to seek aid from Mizan. Additionally, our border defenses have been arranged, and one hundred thousand troops will hold the madmen outside the gates. We have just received word that Tiandu's reinforcements have arrived—fifty thousand in total. Guhe shall surely overcome this crisis. Your Majesty may rest easy!"

At these words, everyone sighed in relief. Especially King Gucha, who unconsciously clutched his chest, murmuring, "Ah... Heaven helps me... Heaven helps me. Within a day, Zhanbie should also have reached Yunpei. Guhe shall survive this calamity unscathed. Only Masui could not endure till the end."

That night!

The palace stood silent, awaiting the mercy of heaven.