In the pale light of early morning, a quiet convoy rumbled along a rugged, uneven road. The only sounds that broke the stillness were the rhythmic clopping of horses' hooves and the low groan of wooden wheels turning over stones and ruts.
The Mu Mansion's people, after traveling the entire night without pause, were visibly exhausted. Inside the carriages, the female family members had already drifted off, their heads resting against the soft cushions, eyes gently closed as sleep claimed them.
However, sleep evaded the men of the Mu family.
Especially Mu Changtian and his two sons.
The three sat quietly inside one of the sturdier carriages, gazes distant as they stared at the shadowy outlines of the mountains ahead. No one spoke for a long time, each lost in their own turbulent thoughts.
Suddenly, Mu Changtian broke the silence. His voice was calm, yet carried a weight that immediately pulled his sons from their haze.
"This is the road to Beijun."
Mu Jingwu and Mu Xingping, who had both been on the verge of dozing off, immediately snapped to attention.
Mu Xingping leaned forward slightly and asked in a low voice, "Father, are you sure? Could it be that you're mistaken?"
Mu Changtian narrowed his eyes, surveying the familiar mountain peaks that loomed in the distance. "I've marched to Beijun many times to repel barbarian invasions. I know these roads like the back of my hand. I can't be wrong. This is definitely the road to Beijun."
He paused, his brows furrowing slightly.
The night before, Liang Zong had said nothing about where they were headed. The moment they had boarded the carriages, Liang Zong's subordinates had taken control, offering no explanations. It had been too dark to distinguish the direction then—but now, under daylight, the truth was plain.
Those distinctive mountain peaks were seared into Mu Changtian's memory. They were the same peaks he had passed countless times while leading troops against the northern barbarians. Every bend and turn in the road, every outcrop of rock—he remembered them all.
Mu Xingping's eyes widened slightly. "Father, then… could the prince they mentioned really be the Ninth Prince?"
Mu Jingwu's face twitched slightly at the thought. His voice trembled, filled with disbelief. "That's impossible… How could it be the Ninth Prince?"
The Ninth Prince—though now married to Mu Zixuan—was still regarded by everyone in Duke Mu's Mansion as a useless hedonist. A lazy, pleasure-seeking prince who had never accomplished anything of worth.
Mu Xingping hesitated, then added, "But if this is the road to Beijun… and Beijun is the Ninth Prince's fief… then the prince they mentioned couldn't be anyone else, right?"
Mu Jingwu didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned his head, looking at his father with a questioning gaze, clearly hoping he could make sense of the strange situation.
Mu Changtian's face darkened as he sank deeper into thought. After a long silence, he finally muttered, "It does seem unlikely that it's the Ninth Prince… But I can't rule it out. Perhaps he wants to discuss something in private with me in Beijun."
He paused, his brows knitting further.
"Of course… there's another possibility."
His voice trailed off.
Mu Jingwu noticed the change in his father's tone and immediately asked, "What is it, Father? What's the other possibility?"
Mu Changtian was silent for a moment longer before finally saying, "What if the ones who saved us… weren't from DaXia at all? What if they were barbarians?"
The moment those words left his mouth, both Mu Jingwu and Mu Xingping froze in disbelief.
Mu Changtian continued, his voice low and grave. "The barbarians are to the north. If they wanted to bring us back to their territory, they would have to pass through Beijun. It's a natural route."
"And more importantly… they have a motive. They know that I'm loyal to Daxia, but if they could convince me to defect, it would greatly weaken our nation's resolve. I've fought alongside too many generals, commanded too many loyal soldiers. If they can win me over, it would be easier for them to crush Daxia later."
Mu Jingwu's expression turned grim. He clenched his fists, voice tense. "Father, if they really are barbarians… and we follow them… wouldn't that make us traitors?"
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I can accept turning my back on Emperor Xia. He abandoned us. He tried to kill us. But… if you're asking me to betray all of Daxia, to side with the same monsters who've slaughtered our people, burned our villages, murdered our soldiers—then no. I can't do it. I won't."
His words fell heavy, echoing within the quiet carriage.
Mu Changtian didn't respond immediately. His gaze dropped, eyes shadowed with the weight of his own thoughts.
His son's words mirrored the conflict within his own heart.
If he was asked to pledge allegiance to another Daxia prince, he would do so without hesitation. Emperor Xia's betrayal had shattered any loyalty he once felt.
But to side with the barbarians? The same enemy that had spilled so much Daxian blood? That had butchered his comrades and innocent civilians alike?
Never.
Death would be better.
After a long pause, he sighed and said slowly, "There's no use speculating now. We'll know the truth once we reach Beijun."
"You two should rest. You haven't slept all night. There's still a long journey ahead."
…
Meanwhile, in the Capital of Daxia—
Inside the Imperial Garden of the palace, a heavy silence blanketed the space.
Emperor Xia stood beneath a pavilion, his gaze cold as he listened to the Shadow Guard Commander's report. The atmosphere was oppressive, and the only sound that dared to disturb the quiet was the soft splash of crucian carps leaping in the lotus pond nearby.
His expression was dark.
For a long time, he didn't speak.
Finally, a faint sneer curled at the corner of his lips. "Three grandmasters… defeated by a man whose cultivation was already dispersed. In the end, they died with him. Hah."
His laughter was devoid of amusement—cold, chilling, like the wind before a storm.
The pressure in the garden grew heavier. The courtiers standing nearby dared not even breathe too loudly.
Though Daxia still boasted many grandmasters, they were far from expendable. Cultivating such talents took years—sometimes decades. To lose three in a single encounter, and against a man who was supposedly powerless?
Unacceptable.
At that moment, Emperor Xia turned sharply toward the elderly man seated in the pavilion—Situ Ce, the Imperial Master and one of the highest-ranking court officials.
"I recall you saying Mu Changtian's power had been dispersed. Yet he was able to use the Blood Burning Technique in the end. Care to explain, Imperial Master?"
Situ Ce narrowed his eyes slightly. He could sense the suspicion in the emperor's tone.
"Your Majesty," he said calmly, "are you suggesting that I did not give him the Power-Dispersing Pill?"
"I'm simply asking," Emperor Xia replied coolly, "why the Power-Dispersing Pill had no effect."
It was clear that Emperor Xia didn't trust him fully—not after everything that had happened. He knew Situ Ce had always had a close relationship with Mu Changtian. It was not impossible to imagine him pulling strings behind the scenes.
Situ Ce, however, remained composed. "When I last examined him, his internal power had clearly dissipated. As for how he managed to execute the Blood Burning Technique… my guess is that someone inside the prison gave him a small restorative pill—something to recover a sliver of strength."
Emperor Xia's eyes narrowed.
Indeed, though rare, there were pills capable of briefly restoring lost cultivation—especially those produced by certain sects, where pill refinement was an ancient and well-guarded craft.
The Emperor turned to the Shadow Guard Commander.
"Investigate it thoroughly. I want to know who dared defy my will."
"Yes, Your Majesty." The Shadow Guard Commander bowed and turned to leave.
As his silhouette disappeared into the shadows of the garden, Emperor Xia murmured to himself, "Mu Changtian… he truly was a loyal servant of mine. Even in death, he helped me remove a troublesome pawn."
The "troublesome pawn" he referred to was naturally Chen Pengyi—Mu Changtian's proud student.
Initially, Emperor Xia had supported Chen Pengyi solely as a counterbalance to Mu Changtian. Now that the teacher was dead, the student had lost all strategic value.
He had even planned to eliminate Chen Pengyi after his return from the northern front—but it no longer mattered.
Now, both master and disciple were dead.
And with that, the military power of Daxia rested entirely in Emperor Xia's hands.
With such power consolidated, there was nothing he couldn't do.
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