The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

Inside the strategist's tent, the candlelight flickered, casting a warm yellow glow.

Yan Ci stood quietly with his eyes lowered.

Her long, silver-gray hair was half-tied up in a silver crown, with the rest cascading down her shoulders like a flowing spring, gleaming coldly in the candlelight.

His dark blue hair ribbon with silver patterns swayed gently as he flipped through the books, shimmering with tiny sparkles, like shooting stars flashing across the night sky.

His white robe with ink patterns and wide sleeves accentuated his refined and otherworldly appearance, giving him a dashing and elegant demeanor.

He sat there as if he were not in a battlefield, but rather leisurely reading classics in his own study, with a warm cup of tea beside him and a few slender bamboos outside the window.

On the table, a jade box lay quietly open.

Inside the box, the light of the spirit pearl shifted and flickered.

During the battle when he sent troops to sweep through the Heavenly Punishment Hall's main altar, he personally witnessed the Moon Brahma Saint Son, Yun Boyan.

His silver robes fluttered in the wind, and his sword aura was as cold as frost.

With a slight frown, a sword swept across, its killing intent as chilling as a tidal wave.

Those majestic statues of the sun and moon shattered into dust under his sword, and the sound of their collapse seemed to shake the heavens and earth.

His men discovered these spirit orbs deep within layers of rubble while clearing the battlefield.

They lay there quietly, finally waiting for the moment when they could see the light of day again.

The item was immediately presented to him.

It's not that no one wants to embezzle these spoils of war.

But Strategist Yan is too terrifying.

He usually wears a white robe with ink patterns and wide sleeves, and his smile is as gentle as a spring breeze. He looks refined and gentle.

But everyone in the army knows that this strategist is the most ruthless and cunning.

Everyone knows perfectly well what fate awaited those who tried to deceive the heavens.

They all wanted to live a few more days.

Who would dare?

Inside the strategist's tent, Yan Ci held a scroll in one hand, carefully flipping through the yellowed book, "The Secret Records of Returning to the Void: The Chapter of Creation".

The pages were as thin as cicada wings, and the edges were badly worn, as if they would break at the slightest touch.

Those yellowed pages hold secrets that have remained unspoken for centuries.

His gaze swept over the lines of ancient text, finally settling on the vermilion annotation on the last page.

The handwriting was messy and unrestrained, yet powerful enough to penetrate the paper.

The cinnabar had darkened, yet it was still shocking to behold.

"The Heart of the Sun and Moon, a pearl formed from the life force of all living beings plundered by the Heavenly Dao."

"Destroy the statues of the twin gods of the sun and moon, and you will obtain their hearts; whoever obtains their hearts can seize the myriad life-giving opportunities stolen by the Heavenly Dao."

This prophecy was hidden deep within the secret records, and for thousands of years no one dared to verify it, nor dared to pass it on.

However, the workings of Heaven are ever-changing, and cause and effect are in a cycle; the day of fulfillment will eventually come.

On a new line below, the handwriting appears even more urgent:

"Those who steal hearts will surely face calamity from Heaven. Be cautious and heed this warning."

Yan Ci's gaze narrowed slightly.

My fingertips gently traced the line of vermilion annotations, as if stroking a wound from a thousand years ago.

Be careful.

Quit it.

"Oh."

He chuckled softly.

"Is there still a Dao in this world?"

He raised his eyes and looked out at the deep night outside the tent.

The sky was pitch black, with no stars or moon in sight, as if even the heavens themselves dared not open their eyes to look at the human world.

"Since Heaven is unjust, why should we respect it?"

He put down the books, and a deep undercurrent surged in his usually calm eyes.

My heart feels as if it has been pricked by fine needles, covered in wounds and bleeding profusely.

Your Highness.

She was not part of his game.

"The plan should have been safe and sound."

His voice was deep and resonant, like a harp string, yet it was filled with remorse.

"But why, in the end, did I lose everything?"

He had calculated the general trend of the world and the hearts and minds of the people.

"Countless schemes, meticulous planning, yet one oversight—I couldn't protect you."

He has always been the "center point" that his clansmen have placed on the chessboard.

Bearing the weight of victory and defeat, and shouldering the responsibility for a long and promising future, he never dared to make a mistake, never dared to indulge himself.

I kept telling myself: Don't fall into her trap, don't get obsessed, don't let this heart ruin the whole game.

He hid for so long.

I avoided it for so long.

She is dead now.

He died so tragically, so resolutely, leaving not even ashes behind.

He no longer had to hide.

There's no need to avoid it anymore.

But the heart that had been hanging in suspense for half its life felt as if all its burning passion had been brutally ripped away by life.

All that's left is cold.

A chill that seeps into the bones.

Suddenly a gust of wind lifted the curtain of the large tent.

The wind came so fast, as if something had torn the night apart.

Feng Zhuo burst into the tent.

The boy, dressed in red, had his hair disheveled and looked like a burning flame.

He stood there, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Yan Ci.

There was so much in those eyes—fear, anticipation, and despair that dared not be asked.

"Brother Yan Ce!"

His voice was hoarse, filled with unease.

"Ah Xue is alright, isn't she? She's perfectly fine, isn't she?"

Yan Ci looked up at him.

His gaze was indifferent, as if he were looking at a child who didn't know any better.

"If you want to avenge her yourself, then hold on and don't die."

His voice was flat and indifferent.

"Otherwise, the Ten Thousand Bones Cave behind the military camp wouldn't make much difference if there were one more corpse."

He reached out and pointed to the intelligence report on the table beside him.

"See for yourself. Feng Yi protected you too much; you were even the last to know about your beloved's death."

Feng Zhuo was stunned.

He couldn't hear what came after that.

All that remained in my ears was a sharp buzzing sound, as if something had exploded in my brain.

My heart skipped a beat.

That old wound looked as if it had been ripped open, dripping with blood.

He clenched his teeth tightly.

A trickle of blood spilled from the corner of his lips, but he didn't bother to wipe it away.

He walked to the desk and picked up the secret report that recorded Princess Mirror being burned to ashes by the Heavenly Fire Array.

Every word is like a knife.

They slowly tortured him, slice by slice, bit by bit.

His hands were shaking violently.

Tears instantly blurred my vision.

He wiped it off hard with his sleeve and continued reading.

Look again.

Tears welled up again, then I wiped them away.

He clutched that thin piece of paper until it was crumpled, but he never put it down.

No matter how painful the old wounds in my heart are, they can't compare to the excruciating pain that feels like my soul is being torn apart right now.

"I used to be afraid of..."

His voice trembled, and his hands trembled as well.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to stay with Ah Xue for long, I'm afraid my heart won't be able to hold on until we grow old together."

He took out a heart-protecting pill from his pocket.

That was prepared by his older brother to help him get through each attack.

He swallowed it.

That medicine was very bitter.

But no matter how bitter it was, it couldn't compare to the feeling in his heart at that moment.

"Now it's all right."

He raised his tearful eyes and looked at Yan Ci.

There was no resentment in those eyes, only a heartbreaking clarity.

"Even if it doesn't jump for long, it'll be enough for me to send those people down to their deaths, one by one."

He paused.

"My brother isn't saving me. He's harming me."

A bitter smile appeared on the boy's lips, a smile so bitter that it was unbearable to look at.

"He asked me how I would face Ah Xue when I got there?"

"Brother Yan Ce, thank you for telling me the truth."

He stood up.

A red dress fluttered and rustled in the wind.

That red color is both a battle robe and a wedding dress.

From the day she first smiled at him, he thought that one day he would wear the reddest dress and marry her.

The gilded rose tassel on his sword was still tied around his waist.

She tied it on herself.

That was the most precious gift he had ever received in his life.

"I, Feng Zhuo, have no great ambitions in this life."

"I just want to be with Ah Xue."

"From the highest heavens to the deepest hells."

Feng Zhuo's voice was strained and nasal, like a blade of grass that was wet with rain but stubbornly refused to droop, standing tall and wet.

He raised his head and looked out at the deep night sky.

Tears continued to flow, silently, sliding down that pale face and dripping onto that red dress.

But those eyes shone brighter than ever before.

Brighter than firelight.

Brighter than the stars.

"Ah Xue, look—"

He opened his arms, letting his red clothes flutter in the wind.

That red color was like a burning flame, like a heart that never goes out.

"I'm dressed in red, and no matter when I fall, it's because I'm here to marry you."

His voice was carried away by the wind and drifted into the distance.

"You wait for me."

"Don't go too far."

"I'll be there soon."