Shi Biao and Ding Jin struck unexpectedly, swiftly severing communication between the rebel army and Danzhi's forces according to Duan Xu's arrangements. Meanwhile, with Zi Wei's assistance, news of Tang Dequan's defection to Danzhi spread like wildfire through the rebel ranks. Seven or eight out of ten of Tang Dequan's subordinates transferred their allegiance to Duan Xu. Before Tang Dequan could betray them, he had already become isolated and fled in panic to Danzhi's territory seeking protection.
Now two-thirds of Jing Province fell into Duan Xu's hands. He deployed the Returning Crane Army and Meng Wan's Su Ying Army as the vanguard to continue attacking the remaining cities in Jing Province. Shi Biao, who had once ruled the mountains as a bandit king, was most proficient at ambushes and attacks in mountainous terrain. His battle tactics were utterly unprincipled, excelling at defeating larger forces with smaller ones and feinting attacks in one direction while striking in another—displaying remarkable prowess on the battlefield. Danzhi's most prized cavalry was fully armored heavy cavalry that couldn't maneuver well in mountainous regions, so they were run ragged by Shi Biao's guerrilla tactics.
Meng Wan's Su Ying Army was much steadier by contrast. While Shi Biao was brilliant at capturing cities but hopeless at defending them—a city under his control could change hands multiple times—they complemented each other perfectly. Breakthroughs were handled by Shi Biao's aggressive forces, while the Su Ying Army secured and stabilized captured territory. In half a month, they gradually consumed Jing Province bit by bit.
At this time, Duan Xu opportunely wrote a letter to Zhao Xing, the rebel leader who controlled Qi Province. Zhao Xing had been in control of Qi Province for some time, and emissaries from Great Liang had come in wave after wave. Seeing that General Qian from Wei Province had already submitted to Great Liang, Zhao Xing remained frustratingly ambiguous in his responses.
Truthfully, the rewards Great Liang bestowed upon Qian Chengyi were extremely generous, and Zhao Xing would certainly receive no less. Despite knowing this, he maintained an ambiguous attitude and merely observed the rebellion in Jing Province from the sidelines—likely hoping to take advantage of the chaos to establish himself as a regional hegemon.
Duan Xu's letter was polite in tone, but its content was stark: the traitor Tang Dequan who had defected to Danzhi had his head chopped off by Han righteous warriors and his corpse abandoned in the streets. If Zhao Xing chose to side with Danzhi, he would likely meet the same fate. Duan Xu then explained he needed to attack You Province and required Qi Province to join with Jing Province to encircle and breakthrough. If Zhao Xing refused to submit, then just as Duan Xu had conquered Jing Province, he would conquer Qi Province. By then, Zhao Xing would no longer be considered a meritorious official, but a traitor.
Not long after the letter arrived, Zhao Xing sent an envoy saying he was willing to accept Great Liang's rewards and surrender Qi Province.
"Zhao Xing is a cunning man. He has agreed to submit, but there will likely be complications ahead. We'll see what happens. After this, we must attack You Province, and Qi Province must remain stable as our army's rear. Xia Qing Sheng is cautious and meticulous; let him go to Qi Province first to meet Zhao Xing and reorganize his troops. I will follow shortly," Duan Xu said as he set down Zhao Xing's letter, instructing Chen Ying.
Chen Ying nodded in understanding.
"Does Zi Wei have any useful people in Qi Province?" Duan Xu asked.
"Sister Luo said that Zhang Qian, the military advisor on Zhao Xing's side, is Zi Wei's man. She has observed him previously and believes he can be trusted."
"Good. Have Qing Sheng contact Zhang Qian after arriving in Qi Province. If Qing Sheng also believes Zhang Qian is reliable, then place Zhao Xing's former elite troops under Zhang Qian's command. Before Zhao Xing departs for the Southern Capital to receive his title, Zi Wei must keep a close watch on him."
Chen Ying replied, "Yes."
Duan Xu sighed in relief, then suddenly changed the subject. "How is your Brother Han doing now?"
This was the first time Duan Xu had mentioned Han Lingqiu in more than half a month. Upon his return, he had thrown Han Lingqiu into prison and barely inquired about him since. The official explanation given was that Han Lingqiu was being punished for offending the commander.
Chen Ying had received much care from Han Lingqiu during the previous four months. Seeing that Han Lingqiu had returned completely changed—gloomy and silent—and noticing the strange, tense atmosphere between him and Duan Xu, Chen Ying had been suspicious for some time. Now hearing Duan Xu finally mention Han Lingqiu, he jolted with relief and thought, "Third Brother is finally bringing this up," and eagerly answered, "He's still the same… doesn't speak all day. Even when I try to talk with him, he doesn't respond. Third Brother, what exactly happened to Brother Han?"
Duan Xu let out a long sigh and smiled. "You call him Brother, and call me Third Brother, making my generational status younger than it should be."
He stood up from his chair and stretched. "Come, let's go see him. Since he can't figure things out himself, I'll help him sort through it."
Chen Ying followed Duan Xu curiously to the prison. Duan Xu walked casually to the bars with his hands behind his back, then turned to look at the disheveled, gloomy figure hunched in the corner. After half a month, Han Lingqiu's physical wounds had mostly healed, but the wounds in his heart remained raw and festering. He seemed like a completely different person from the earnest, sincere, and straightforward Han Lingqiu from before—as if someone else's soul had been stuffed into this body.
But his experience had been something like that.
The youth who had fought for the Azure God as Tian Zhixiao could not accept being the Great Liang general Han Lingqiu.
And the patriotic Han Lingqiu could not accept being the youth Tian Zhixiao with hands stained by innocent blood.
He had two opposite, mutually hostile pasts. Now the education he had received at Tian Zhixiao and the beliefs he once firmly held had returned to his mind. He had once vowed that regardless of the past, he was only Han Lingqiu of Great Liang, but now it seemed this was merely a beautiful and wishful fantasy.
Duan Xu opened the lock, and the sound echoed through the spacious cell. As he unlocked the door, he called out, "Han Lingqiu."
Han Lingqiu's gaze suddenly snapped toward him, filled with wariness and hatred. He said coldly, "Don't call me by that name."
"Why? I'm not the one who gave you this name. Are you now blaming me?" Duan Xu walked up to Han Lingqiu, bent down to look at him at eye level, and smiled. "Remember, you once grabbed my throat. Under those circumstances, when you laid hands on me, I could consider it a betrayal."
Han Lingqiu's eyes flickered with something unreadable, and then he gave a cold laugh. "Betrayal? Isn't that your specialty?"
Duan Xu straightened up, fiddling with the key in his hand as he looked down at Han Lingqiu for a long moment, then said, "Speaking to your commander in such a tone, it seems you've completely decided not to be Han Lingqiu anymore. Have you decided to return to Danzhi?"
Han Lingqiu clenched his teeth and remained stubbornly silent.
"Lingqiu, would you like to have another ming trial with me?" Duan Xu asked, unsurprisingly seeing the shock flash through Han Lingqiu's eyes. He added, "The Ming trial is a fight to the death. If you win, you can kill me."
In the afternoon on the grasslands of Yun Province, sunlight sparkled on the shallow lake's rippling surface, and the green grass grew tall enough to submerge one's ankles. There was no wind at the moment, and all was peaceful—deceptively tranquil.
Duan Xu and Han Lingqiu stood facing each other by the lakeside in the sunlight, both dressed in black. Duan Xu wore a black and silver headband, just as he had when walking in the ghost realm, looking nothing like a military commander but rather like a carefree youth without burdens.
Han Lingqiu gazed at Duan Xu from afar, as if across nine years, seeing the admirable opponent from Tian Zhixiao. Duan Xu was taller now, his features more angular and defined, but otherwise not much different from who he had been at Tian Zhixiao. Even then, Duan Xu had always smiled with crescent eyes, seeming without any worries.
Han Lingqiu vaguely wondered if he had ever envied Duan Xu. It seemed he had—perhaps for Duan Xu's talent, his master's favoritism, or perhaps for Duan Xu's happiness—he couldn't quite remember clearly anymore. Back then, they had no names, and no friends, and Duan Xu was merely a symbol to him.
During that long period, everything seemed symbolic. What was right, what was wrong, what was valuable, what was worthless—all were clearly labeled. Simple, precise, uniform, and deeply rooted in their minds.
He was now extremely confused. During these past two weeks, he often felt he was going mad. Whether as Han Lingqiu or as a disciple of Tian Zhixiao, both felt like betrayal to him. He couldn't find himself; he didn't know where he belonged.
And the instigator of all this—Duan Xu—stood before him calmly. He couldn't understand this person, neither in the past nor now.
In the distance, Duan Xu smiled slightly in the sunlight. He covered his eyes with the black cloth. "General Han, please focus."
As Han Lingqiu blindfolded himself, he thought about how contradictory it was that Duan Xu wanted to use Tian Zhixiao's ming trial to compete with him while still calling him General Han. Perhaps losing to Duan Xu again here and being killed by him would be his best ending—a mercy, even.
After covering his eyes, all other senses became more acute in the dark world. Han Lingqiu heard Chen Ying shout "Begin!" and then came the slight, rapid footsteps from ahead. In the moment he hesitated, the sword wind arrived, and he immediately dodged. In that instant, he realized Duan Xu was serious—genuinely fighting to kill.
He was drawn into Duan Xu's rhythm, with Duan Xu moving so quickly that Han Lingqiu could only retreat and defend. It had been many years since anyone had pushed him to this desperate point. In the clash of blades, deeply buried memories gradually awakened. He seemed to return to those days of combat with Duan Xu, those memories of constantly pushing beyond his limits, immersed daily in killing—these came alive in the dark world like ghosts rising from graves.
During those seven years, it seemed he killed people every day.
He found it exhilarating. People in his eyes weren't people, but a kind of livestock. He enjoyed the sound of blades piercing flesh, he enjoyed the pleas and cries, he enjoyed blood spraying and bodies dismembered. He took pride and pleasure in it.
This was his purpose for existing in the world.
For him as a youth, killing was the most beautiful thing in the world.
But these vivid memories terrified Han Lingqiu now—terrified him to his very core.
Not just terror—he felt disgusted. He wanted to cut off his limbs, to sever those blood-stained, filthy hands and feet. He wanted to run back to the past and pin down that person who took delight in killing. He wanted to seal that person's mouth, to shatter that person's skull.
He wanted to call for help.
If only someone could have saved that person, saved him. If someone could have stopped him before he killed his first victim, even if it meant cutting off his hands, he would have been eternally grateful.
He desperately wanted to grab someone to save that demonic self, but it was too late—far too late.
Moreover, there was a voice in his mind mocking him, telling him this was how the world was meant to be: Weren't you happy then? What are you despairing about now? You just need to choose to return to that path, and you can proceed smoothly.
You are the Azure God's glorious warrior, and those you killed were merely necessary sacrifices. Let go of the hand strangling your own throat, stop struggling, and return to the past.
"Why don't you kill me?"
The sudden voice pierced Han Lingqiu's dark world. He hesitated, realizing that in his extreme despair and frenzy, he had been attacking Duan Xu almost purely on instinct, fighting like a man with nothing left to lose.
Then he seemed to have won. How could he have won?
Han Lingqiu tore the blindfold from his eyes. Duan Xu sat on the ground clutching his abdomen, blood flowing between his fingers, while Han Lingqiu's sword pointed at Duan Xu's throat. Duan Xu spat blood, wiped his mouth, and asked with unsettling calmness, "Not only have you not deteriorated, you've improved considerably. Lingqiu, why don't you kill me?"
In the darkness, Han Lingqiu had lost sense of time. What felt like a mere moment had passed, yet now the sun was setting, painting the world in dazzling red. The lake beside them reflected the crimson afterglow and setting sun, resembling a pool of boiling magma.
Duan Xu looked up at Han Lingqiu with composure. In that gaze, Han Lingqiu saw a hint of compassion—the same damned compassion.
He suddenly remembered that nine years ago, on the arena at sunset, Duan Xu had looked at him with the same expression before they began their ming trial.
He vaguely recalled that in the hazy chaos afterward, someone had carried him on their back, walking a long, swaying path. That person had told him—go south, go to Great Liang, don't come back.
Han Lingqiu seemed unable to bear it any longer. He growled, threw away his sword, and grabbed Duan Xu's collar. With bloodshot eyes, he questioned through gritted teeth, "Why… why did you save me? Don't tell me it was some kind of compassion; we've killed even three-year-old children! There was not the slightest friendship between us—why didn't you kill me?"
Duan Xu looked at him without flinching, then smiled. The smile caused blood to flow from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto Han Lingqiu's hand that gripped his collar.
"The only one who survived would become Number Seventeen. I didn't want to be Seventeen, so I couldn't let you die. I wasn't saving you; I was saving myself."
Han Lingqiu was stunned.
"Of course, as you said, we've killed even three-year-old children. What difference could saving you at the end make? It changed nothing. It was just a childish notion, a reason to comfort myself. But Lingqiu, I've sustained myself with such childish notions."
"You say I'm good at betrayal, but in my view, I've never betrayed anyone. The struggles and thoughts you're experiencing now, I went through long ago. Since then, I've only been loyal to myself. But you and I are different. Out of selfishness, disregarding your wishes, I arbitrarily made such a choice for you."
Duan Xu grasped Han Lingqiu's hand that held his collar and smiled gently with composure. "Lingqiu, I apologize for my presumption and for the scar on your face. I'm sorry."
Han Lingqiu gradually loosened his grip. He lowered his gaze and remained silent for a long moment, then tugged at the corner of his mouth as if finding it absurd. "You saved me, yet you apologize to me. I'm not so ungrateful."
He raised his eyes to look at Duan Xu, his eyes reflecting the crimson sunset. His madness had settled into a heavier scar—one that would never fully heal. He said, "Commander Duan."
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