Legend of Fu Yao

Meng Fuyao looked up and for a moment, mistook the sudden emergence of the black sheet wave on the western slope as a sign that she was about to pass out. The leading horseman raised his sword, and the whole wave of black-armored soldiers followed suit, before charging right into the enemy formation. These men controlled their reins and galloped full speed ahead, releasing rain-like arrows and chopping their enemies as though they were vegetables. From their ruthless and careless attacks, it was clear that these people were Zhan Beiye’s.

But how could it be?

The strongest troop, Dark Wind Horses, were well known in all nations. While it consisted of only a few thousand horsemen, each member had the ability to take on a hundred enemies and own the battlefield. Their achievements were glorious, and they were a presence feared by the Moluo Nation, situated in the western region. How did such a troop cross Wuji Nation border? And how could they have appeared here?

Hearing the man behind her laughing out loud and feeling his shaking chest against her back, Meng Fuyao heard him say, “I arrived much earlier, but turned back to wait for these brothers. We charged our way through the border.”

Meng Fuyao was speechless. ‘This man… he is going to die one day without even knowing why.’

Zhan Beiye mumbled, “It’s strange, now that I think of it. The border troops stopped pursuing after a while, leaving us at a darn mountain area, and when we finally exited, we were already close by.”

He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the intense battle that was ongoing. “Damn it, got used by him again… I must get back at him.”

Meng Fuyao turned her head doubtfully. “Eh?” she let out, as Zhan Beiye looked at her blood-stained face and clotted eyelashes. Her body was filled with so many wounds that he daren’t touch her. Her appearance, no different from that of a tiny, severely injured beast, silenced him.

How much must she have fought? With a character like hers, unless forced to a dead end, there was no way she would end her own life. Who had the power to render her so helpless and desperate?

And where was that man when she was suffering? Alright… he had military affairs to attend to, but how could he have let her fall into such a perilous situation?

And himself as well… how he wanted to punch himself in the face. If he hadn’t been so poor with directions and gotten lost deep in the mountains, and if he hadn’t bumped into one of the ten strongest fighters, also known as “the Fog”, provoking her to set up all sort of obstacles within the area, he could have arrived half a month earlier. Thus, she wouldn’t have been beaten down to this state.

Zhan Beiye’s mind went blank when he saw her raising her sword, ready to take her own life. As such, his hand slipped, and he had only managed to chop off an ear of his enemy. Anxious and left without a choice, he swung his sword, flinging it toward her as an intervention.

Upon his attempt, he felt his body turn cold. He hadn’t channeled any inner energy into his toss and was certain that it wasn’t going to be enough to counter Meng Fuyao’s strength.

Fortunately, she was already extremely weak, and an ear was sufficient to knock her weapon off.

She had almost died before his very eyes.

Remorseful, Zhan Beiye wanted very much to tear his hair out to stop her wounds from bleeding. He looked on as the sinister-looking flesh blossomed, feeling as though he was about to suffocate. After some thought, he removed his overcoat and wrapped it around her. “Bear with it and wait for me.”

Meng Fuyao shrunk her head into his coat but ignored him. She had no mood.

Seeing that her face was turning green from fatigue, anger rose within him once more. He turned around, eyes sharp as a blade, and glared at the broken-armed general, Old Ha.

Old Ha was surrounded by the Rong army, and he was carefully retreating. They were no longer able to force Meng Fuyao to her end and had to deal with the unexpected appearance of a wave of armored horsemen, whose combat power was nightmare-triggering.

Last night, alongside fifteen guards, Meng Fuyao had killed a few thousands of them. These horsemen’s skills were not bad at all and were even better experts in battle formations. They moved, fast as lightning, and attacked, light as wind. With every flash of their sword, blood rain and severed heads ensued. Amid the gradually scattering formation of the Rong army, these horsemen continued pressing their way through. On the other hand, his own horsemen, 5,000 of them, simply turned into wooden blocks and gradually got slaughtered.

Worse, he suddenly felt a chill in his chest and numbness in his back, as if worms were crawling all over. Goosebumps surfaced, and his hair stood on end.

As Old Ha retreated, he turned and saw from afar, hundreds of steps away, a man dressed in a black robe with scarlet trimmings sitting upright on his horse and slowly drawing his pure golden bow.

They were far apart, but he could feel the deadly aura that man in black was exuding. Just his gaze alone was substantial enough to pierce through him.

Old Ha was startled but immediately loosened himself up. ‘What a joke, how could anyone shoot accurately from such a distance?’

Of course, the number one archer in the whole of Tiansha Nation, also the King’s subordinate, might be able to, but this man was the prince, so how could he have appeared here in the first place…

He paused his thoughts.

‘Tiansha… black elite force… the number one cavalry that was as sturdy as mountains and as impenetrable as forest… the fiery red palm symbol on the horses’ abdomen… Dark Wind Horses!’

‘Tiansha King Hunter’s Dark Wind Horses!’

Old Ha let out an odd cry as he whipped his horse hard with his hand. “Quick! Quick! Withdraw! Withdraw!” he yelled.

Despite his rather quick reaction, it was already too late.

“Xiu!”

A scarlet arrow, seemingly carrying a ring of fire around it, blossomed like a firework and pierced through the far gap between them, through the sky full of raised dust and fresh blood, and ultimately through the back of the target.

The flame-like arrow penetrated through his skin and bones before exiting from his chest. The blood that flowed out with it splattered into the air, creating a stunning painting.

It was a painting that immortalized the moment in which Old Ha while maintaining a fleeing stance, arm in mid-air, attempted to hasten his horse but would forever be condemned by the impossible arrow that had shot him.

He let out a guttural choke that seemed to contain a soft sob as if he was sighing over his bad fate. Why had Zhan Beiye come and why hadn’t he made use of every precious moment to get rid of Meng Fuyao. Now he had to pay with his own life.

Just like that his raised arm slowly fell, and he plunged into the crowd of soldiers and horses. Like the men in black who had protected Meng Fuyao with their lives, he was instantly crushed.

Meng Fuyao rested on the horse, tears welling in her eyes as she watched. ‘Revenge doesn’t feel good, revenge doesn’t feel good.’

Even if Zhan Beiye hadn’t attacked, she would do whatever it took to seek revenge as long as she was still alive.

Upon Old Ha’s death, the leaderless army fell into a mess. Not the Dark Wind Horses’ match, to begin with, it was clearer than ever that they were now trapped in the elite force’s slaughterhouse.

As if herding sheep, the powerful horsemen forced the Rong soldiers together before starting the massacre without hesitation.

The clattering of hooves collided with the sounds of bones breaking and the neighing of horses as a wave of soldiers charged toward Yaocheng. The soldiers above the city gate were shocked silly. They had initially thought that Meng Fuyao sold their city and lured the soldiers over to kill their people. However, from the looks of it, things appeared not how they did previously, and they were all stunned.

Still covered in Zhan Beiye’s overcoat, Meng Fuyao did not turn around to observe their expressions. The chaotic screams and battle tired her out more, to the point where she couldn’t be bothered with anything.

A soft click sounded from behind.

It sounded especially crisp amid the jumble of the battlefield. She whipped her head around and saw that the city gate, which she had pleaded so hard to be opened, had finally opened.

The thick, solid metal gate opened slowly, drawing a bright arc in the center, illuminating Tie Cheng’s blood and sweat-filled body as he stood ashamed, with a key in his hand and with Yao Xun by his side.

It took only one look for Meng Fuyao to grasp the situation.

Yao Xun must have thought of abandoning her again but had ultimately decided against it, and even made a simple key to open the gate. Who else, but Yao Xun, could do such a thing?

She took a glance before turning back around.

TIe Cheng had pleaded, but to no avail, the guards by her side had died, one after another, but to no avail, and she had been forced into committing suicide, but still to no avail. Did the door really open now that things were settled? What a joke!

It was a joke she did not want to face at this point.

Before her, the battle was coming to an end. Meng Fuyao reached her hand out to grab the rein and jerk it.

The horse lifted its front hooves, the raised dust sprinkling onto the city gate.

“Where are you going?”

“No idea, but I don’t feel like facing the city.

––––––

“How long do you plan to stay in the mountains, then?” Zhan Beiye asked, lying on the grass and resting both hands behind his head to look at the stars. “My horsemen need to replenish supplies.”

“Let them in, then,” Meng Fuyao answered simply, shutting her eyes and feeling the starlight lighting up her pale face and jet-black brows. “The city is out of provisions. You can head to the Rong army camp to get some. It must be a mess over there right now.”

“You’re right,” Zhan Beiye smiled, revealing his brighter than moon teeth, “I’ve already sent them there.”

He sat up to hug his knees, before adding somewhat regretfully, “Aye, if I seize Pingcheng and Huangxian, won’t a plot of Wuji land belong to me?”