Chapter 122: The Turning Tide

 

Feng Suige followed the guard's stunned gaze upward, and in that instant, he felt all the blood in his body perform an impossible journey—surging from his heart straight down to the soles of his feet, leaving him light-headed and cold.

High above, amid howling mountain gales that tore at fabric and threatened balance, a slender figure clung to the nearly vertical cliff face. She descended without pause, without hesitation, her robes fluttering wildly behind her like the wings of some desperate, beautiful creature attempting flight.

That figure—who else could it possibly be but Yixiao?

Xia Jingshi stood nearby, and after a moment of stunned recognition, he suddenly smiled. The expression held equal parts exasperation and fondness, familiarity and acceptance. She was still the same—once she set her mind to something, she would throw caution to the wind without a backward glance.

"This is madness..." Feng Suige's curse emerged barely above a whisper, cold sweat beading on his forehead despite the mountain chill. He didn't dare blink, couldn't tear his eyes away even for a heartbeat. "At a time like this, she still acts so recklessly..."

"No." Xia Jingshi's interruption came soft but certain. "She isn't one to disregard what's important. If she chose this path down the mountain, something major must have happened."

Before he could finish the thought, Yixiao's hand found a piece of weathered rock. The ancient stone crumbled under her weight, sending her sliding down several feet in a cascade of debris and dust before she managed to arrest her fall, fingers finding purchase on a more stable outcropping.

The one who fell bit back a cry of pain. Those watching from below broke out in fresh cold sweat, hearts in their throats.

Feng Suige stomped his feet in helpless agitation, already lifting the hem of his robe as if to climb up after her—as if he could somehow reach her, catch her if she fell. But Xia Jingshi's hand shot out, grabbing his arm with firm restraint.

"Don't. Don't distract her."

The words were wisdom, but they tasted like ash. All they could do was watch, powerless spectators to her death-defying descent.

Despite the close call, it wasn't long before Yixiao neared the bottom. The final stretch was still a dangerous drop, but manageable compared to what she'd already navigated. Just as Feng Suige moved forward to meet her, she suddenly launched herself from the cliff face, trusting momentum and luck in equal measure.

She landed unsteadily on the rugged slope, her exhausted legs barely holding her weight. She stumbled forward several steps, arms windmilling for balance, before Feng Suige caught her. But before he could unleash the scolding burning on his tongue, she collapsed against him, boneless with exhaustion.

"The Holy City's pursuers are coming..."

The words dropped like stones into still water. Everything else became secondary.

---

Far in the distance, barely visible through the haze of battle, birds suddenly took flight from the forest in a panic—hundreds of them erupting skyward in a dark cloud that spoke of disturbance on a massive scale.

Standing at the rear of the battlefield where he could observe the flow of combat, Xiao Weiran had already sensed something amiss. The very air seemed to change, carrying some indefinable warning. Suppressing the dread threatening to overwhelm his tactical thinking, he clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms. The order to retreat rose in his throat multiple times, only to be swallowed back each time.

His Highness must have already taken action by now. Just hold on a little longer—just a little longer, and they might break through...

The thought became a mantra, repeated with increasingly desperate hope.

Suddenly, a resounding horn blast shook the very heavens—deep, resonant, impossible to ignore. The sound cut through the chaos with such authority that even the war drums that had been rallying both sides fell silent in its wake.

The fighters locked in melee froze momentarily, weapons still raised, confusion rippling through the ranks.

That brief, eerie silence was enough for everyone to clearly hear what came next: the thunderous approach of countless hooves from the side, growing louder with every heartbeat. The sound was unmistakable—cavalry, and not just a small force. An army.

The Holy Emperor heard it too. He rose to his feet involuntarily, his expression transforming from smug satisfaction to something approaching uncertainty.

The tremors of the earth traveled up through everyone's feet—a physical sensation that preceded visual confirmation, that made bones vibrate and hearts race. Xiao Weiran closed his eyes briefly and gave a bitter smile.

It was too late.

In the blink of an eye, golden war banners embroidered with the Brocade emblem appeared on the horizon—not just a few, but hundreds of them, fluttering like a vast sea of silk and threat. The pounding of hooves mingled with the heavy metallic clatter of armor created a sound like approaching thunder, like the earth itself cracking open.

A dark tide of elite soldiers and generals materialized as if conjured, their formation perfect despite the speed of their advance.

"Hahaha... hahahaha..."

Triumphant laughter spilled from the Holy Emperor's lips—tentative at first, then growing louder and louder, feeding on itself until he was doubled over with mirth. The Imperial Guard General beside him hastily reached out to steady the emperor before he lost his balance entirely.

"Your Majesty—"

The Holy Emperor abruptly shoved the supporting hand away with surprising violence, turning his gaze toward the distant mountaintop. His expression shifted into something chilling—triumph mixed with vindictive satisfaction and years of accumulated hatred finally finding release.

"Xia Jingshi! Let's see where you can run now!!!"

The words rang out across the battlefield, carrying his voice farther than should have been possible—as if the universe itself wanted to ensure his enemy heard this moment of victory.

---

The Brocade army moved like an unsheathed blade of impossible size, slicing straight into the heart of the battlefield with devastating precision. Within moments, they had separated the two opposing forces as cleanly as a butcher dividing meat from bone.

The Holy Emperor strode forward with renewed confidence, pointing at the General of Agile Cavalry who had just dismounted from his warhorse. Authority rang in every syllable as he barked his command: "Perfect timing! I command you to swiftly crush the rebels and then—"

But instead of the expected bow, instead of immediate obedience, the general shouted over him: "Commander Fan of the Imperial Guard Battalion! A word, if you please!"

The Purple-Robed General at the Holy Emperor's side was visibly taken aback, his expression shifting from professional composure to outrage. He snapped with all the indignation of violated protocol, "The Emperor is present! Show some respect!"

At that precise moment, a commotion arose from the rear—shouts, the clash of weapons being drawn. The Holy Emperor whirled around to see a small cavalry unit emerging from the mountainside path. They wore mismatched armor, clearly not the uniform purple of the Imperial Guard Battalion.

Understanding struck like lightning. Without hesitation, he shouted, "Stop them!"

The Imperial Guards immediately moved to comply, weapons raised, formations shifting. But the General of Agile Cavalry merely raised one hand—a casual gesture that carried absolute authority.

A waiting cavalry unit immediately charged forward while infantry from the rear advanced with practiced coordination, swiftly positioning themselves to block the Imperial Guard Battalion's path. The maneuver was executed with such speed and precision it could only have been pre-planned.

"How dare you! Are you rebelling too?"

The Holy Emperor finally understood, the realization hitting with the force of physical blow. His carefully constructed victory was crumbling before his eyes. His face turned ashen, all the blood draining away as he stumbled back several steps. The Imperial Guards quickly gathered around him in a protective circle, but the gesture felt futile—defense against a threat that had already materialized inside their perimeter.

"Not at all." The General of Agile Cavalry's reply emerged cold and formal, though a faint smirk played at his lips as he observed the emperor's distress with barely concealed satisfaction. "The Old Prime Minister ordered me to lead troops here to protect Your Majesty and escort the Emperor back to the capital to restore order."

The words were respectful. The tone was not.

"By my command, arrest all the traitors at once!" The Holy Emperor's roar carried desperation beneath its fury as he tried to reassert control, to make reality bend to his will through sheer force of imperial authority. "Why are you standing there? Move!"

The soldiers didn't move. The moment stretched, crystallized, became undeniable truth.

---

This was the second time riding together with him—the second time Yixiao had been forced to share a saddle, pressed against Feng Suige's back as the horse thundered forward. Exhausted beyond measure, every muscle screaming, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest, seeking some small shelter from the chaos.

If she hadn't met him. If he hadn't married her. If he hadn't accompanied her to Brocade...

The chain of causation spiraled through her mind, each link leading to this moment of flight and danger.

"Foolish woman..."

She faintly heard Feng Suige murmur something, the words vibrating through his chest. Instinctively, she lifted her head, straining to hear properly. Yes, he was speaking, his voice barely audible above the thunder of hooves.

Amid the violent jolting that threatened to unseat them both, his fragmented words reached her ears in pieces: "This reckless move won't change anything. Wouldn't it have been safer to stay on the mountain? You might have escaped..."

"If I must die..." Yixiao struggled to shift her weight, trying to glance ahead at what lay before them rather than what pursued from behind. "I'd rather die on the battlefield—can we break through?"

"Unlikely." Feng Suige's chuckle emerged dark with gallows humor. "Tell me, do you think they'll bury us together?"

Then, abruptly, his tone shifted to surprise: "What's the Holy Emperor up to now?"

"What's happening?" Yixiao twisted around to look, craning her neck to see past Feng Suige's shoulder. But her exhausted muscles betrayed her. She lost her balance, the sudden movement combined with the horse's gait proving too much. She felt herself slipping sideways, sliding off the horse's flank with nothing to grab, nothing to stop the fall.

"Yixiao!" Feng Suige's shout tore through the air, raw with panic. His hand shot out, reaching back desperately, but too late—always too late. He could only watch in horror as she tumbled toward the ground, time seeming to slow even as he remained powerless to stop it.

The officer riding immediately behind them yanked hard on his reins, trying to halt his galloping mount. But momentum was a cruel master—the horse's speed carried it forward despite the rider's best efforts, hooves still pounding toward where Yixiao would land.

Amid the collective gasps of those witnessing the disaster unfolding, Xia Jingshi—who had been riding half a length behind Feng Suige—made his choice in an instant. He launched himself from his saddle without hesitation, without calculation of personal risk, his body arcing through the air.

He caught the dazed Yixiao mid-fall, arms wrapping around her protectively as they hit the ground together. They rolled aside in a tangle of limbs and fabric, clearing the space just as the officer's horse thundered past, hooves striking earth mere inches from where they'd been.

She's safe. She's unharmed...

The relief flooded through Xia Jingshi with almost painful intensity. He exhaled deeply, the breath he'd been unconsciously holding finally escaping. Cradling her still, he asked softly, "Are you all right?"

Hearing his question—hearing his voice so close, feeling the protective circle of his arms—Yixiao instinctively looked up. Her eyes met his gentle, concerned gaze at close range, and she froze. Something passed between them in that moment, unspoken and undeniable.

Meanwhile, Feng Suige had already wheeled his horse around in a tight circle, dismounted before the animal fully stopped, and rushed over with panic still etched across his features. "Are you hurt?"

The question shattered the moment like dropped glass.

Xia Jingshi stiffened, his arms loosening their protective hold. He released her with careful deliberation and shifted back, creating proper distance.

As Yixiao struggled to her feet with Xia Jingshi's steadying hand, Feng Suige pulled her into a tight embrace that spoke of terror barely survived. "You nearly scared me to death..."

"My arms were weak from climbing earlier—I couldn't hold on." The explanation emerged as a mumble against his shoulder. Yixiao stole a glance over at Xia Jingshi. He had already turned away, accepting the reins of his horse from a returning Military General with studied normalcy, as if nothing significant had just occurred.

She blinked and offered an apologetic smile to the group at large. "I'm sorry. We were supposed to charge through, but now I've made everyone stop."

"If I had known you'd be so restless, I would have gladly tied you to me with a rope." Feng Suige's words carried relief disguised as irritation. "But—"

He tilted his chin to gesture behind her, toward where the battlefield had fallen into strange stillness. "—it seems they don't have time to bother with us now..."

Yixiao turned to follow his indication, and what she saw made her breath catch. The entire tactical situation had transformed in the brief moments of her fall and rescue.

The tide had turned. But whether in their favor or against it remained terrifyingly unclear.