Remarried to a top-tier playboy, her reborn ex-husband is filled with regret.

Pinggetan

The winds of the northern desert raged for three days and three nights without stopping.

The yellow sand blocked out the sky and the sun, making it as dark as dusk even during the day.

The flags outside the camp fluttered in the wind, and the flagpoles bent like bows.

Prince Xiao Ji of Zhenbei stood outside the central command tent, squinting at the blurry northern horizon, his face calm and composed.

He had just returned from the front, the blood on his armor still wet. His lieutenants urged him to rest, but he did not respond.

The battle lasted for four days. The Northern Hu people were pushed two hundred miles north by his army, and they should have retreated to rest and recuperate.

But the sandstorm made him uneasy.

Sandstorm days are the weather that the people of Beihu love most.

They were born in the desert, grew up on horseback, and could navigate sandstorms even with their eyes closed.

Most of the border troops under his command were from the Central Plains, and they couldn't even see the flags in the vast yellow sand, let alone form ranks and charge.

He wanted to wait for the sandstorm to stop before advancing, but his son had already led his troops to catch up.

Xiao Fang led the vanguard to pursue the remaining enemy forces three days ago.

Before he left, Xiao Ji stopped him and told him to wait until the sandstorm stopped before chasing after them.

Xiao Fang only said, "By the time the sandstorm stops, the people will be gone."

After saying that, he mounted his horse and led three thousand elite cavalrymen into the sandstorm.

Xiao Ji knew this son very well.

They're incredibly stubborn; once they've made up their minds, nothing can sway them.

But his son is just like him, indeed brave.

Three thousand elite cavalrymen are as effective as thirty thousand in his hands.

But he was young after all, eager to catch up with the enemy, and prone to rash actions.

"Report—"

A fast horse burst out of the sandstorm, the scout on its back covered in dirt, with dried blood at the corner of his mouth, and he had almost rolled off the horse.

"Your Highness! The young general is surrounded at Pinggetan!"

The Northern Hu people were not just remnants; they had 20,000 ambushing troops!

The horsewhip in Xiao Ji's hand snapped in two with a crack.

Pingge Beach.

He knew that place all too well.

Although it is called a "shoal", it is actually a dried-up ancient riverbed.

Surrounded by undulating sand dunes, the middle was an open space without even a single dead tree to provide cover.

Once inside Pingge Beach, the cavalry's impact was rendered ineffective, and the infantry couldn't deploy in time, making it a classic dead end.

Xiao Fang had three thousand elite cavalrymen, but they were surrounded by twenty thousand men in that place. He dared not think about what would happen next.

"Drumming."

Xiao Ji's voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the spine of the deputy general beside him.

"Prepare the horses."

The sound of drums rolled across the camp like muffled thunder.

The central camp of the Zhenbei Army suddenly came to life amidst the sound of drums.

The sounds of footsteps, horses' hooves, and weapons being drawn exploded together.

Xiao Ji mounted his horse, and the black horse that had followed him in battle for many years seemed to sense the unusual aura emanating from its master, pawing restlessly.

He did not wait for the infantry to assemble, but instead led eight thousand cavalrymen and charged out of the camp gate.

"Your Highness!"

The lieutenant chased after him, shouting.

"The infantry hasn't arrived yet—"

"Make them catch up!"

Xiao Ji didn't turn his head, and lashed the horse's rump hard with the whip.

He was a born general, leading troops at the age of sixteen and never losing a battle in thirty years.

He is never impatient, never reckless, and never loses his composure under any circumstances.

His generals said privately that the prince's veins flowed not with blood, but with ice.

But today, the ice has melted.

He galloped wildly across the swirling yellow sand, his heart pounding as if it would burst from his chest.

He wasn't even aware that his fingers were trembling slightly.

Xiao Fang.

His only son.

He has wronged too many people in his life.

He was on the battlefield when his wife died.

He wasn't there when his son killed his mother's killer at the age of seven.

For so many years, he left his son in the capital as a hostage, and even his family letters were written in a businesslike manner.

But he never imagined that one day he would lose even this son.

No! He couldn't let his son die before him!

He already owes this brat far too much, far too much for him to ever repay in this lifetime.

If something happens to Xiao Fang, how can he face his Ah Rou in the afterlife?

On Pingge Beach, the sounds of battle shook the heavens.

Three thousand against twenty thousand, they fought for a full hour.

Xiao Fang's three thousand elite cavalry had suffered more than half losses, and the rest were pinned down on a gentle slope on the west side of the ancient riverbed.

They could only barely hold on by relying on a few jagged boulders.

Arrows flew down from the sand dunes like locusts, their dull thuds echoing as they struck the shields.

Xiao Fang stood at the front of the battle, covered in blood. The long sword in his hand had been chipped, the blade was twisted, and the blade was covered with layers of dried blood.

His helmet had been knocked off at some point, and he had a deep, bone-revealing wound on his forehead.

Blood streamed down his cheek, obscuring half of his vision.

He was struck in the left shoulder by an arrow; the shaft was severed at the base, but the arrowhead remained embedded in his flesh, and blood oozed out with every swing of his sword.

His face was expressionless.

There was no fear, no despair, not even pain.

He was counting with a calm, almost cold focus.

Count the distribution of troops on the opposite side, count the density of arrows, count the number of enemy soldiers remaining under the wolf-head banner on the sand dune.

As long as we rush up and cut down that flag, and kill the Northern Hu prince who leads the troops, the siege will be lifted.

He hadn't thought about whether he could make it back alive.

"Your Highness!"

The guard grabbed his arm, his voice trembling with tears.

"We can't keep pushing! Our people—"

Xiao Fang shook off his hand, picked up an injured brother beside him, dragged him back two steps, and handed him to the guards behind him.

Then he looked up again at the wolf-head banner on the sand dune.

His gaze pierced through the rain of arrows and sandstorm, fixed intently on the Northern Hu general clad in silver armor.

It was an extremely robust man, sitting on his horse like an iron tower, looking down at him with a cold, cat-and-mouse smirk on his lips.

Xiao Fang recognized that face.

The Second Prince of the Northern Hu, a ruthless general known for his brutality.

Yun Shuyao told him that in his previous life, this was the same person who led a large army to break through the Zhenbei Army's defenses after his father's supplies were cut off by the Wing King.

On that day, the hooves of the Northern Hu people trampled the doors of all the homes of the people of Daliang on the border.

The blood of the elderly and children stained every street and alley.

Xiao Fang closed his eyes briefly.

When he opened his eyes again, a frenzied killing intent surged within them.

He picked up a spear that someone had dropped from the ground, weighed it in his hand, and looked up at the Northern Hu prince.

Since we can't survive, we might as well make sure we get our money's worth.

Just then, a muffled thunderous sound rolled over from the depths of the sandstorm.

The sound grew closer and louder, so loud that the sand beneath their feet trembled slightly.

It was the sound of horses' hooves, the sound of thousands upon thousands of horses' hooves!

The cold smile on the face of the Second Prince of the Northern Hu suddenly froze.

He suddenly turned his head to look behind him.

The first flag that emerged from the sandstorm was a tattered Liang army flag, with a blood-red character "Xiao" embroidered on it.

He is the Prince of Zhenbei.

Xiao Ji took the lead, emerging from the swirling yellow sand like a sharp blade.

Behind him were eight thousand iron cavalry, the dust kicked up by their hooves obscuring the sky.

His black horse galloped at the very front of all the cavalry, its mane dancing wildly in the wind, its legs almost becoming a blurry black shadow.

This cautious Liang commander didn't even wait for the cavalry behind him to catch up.

With just one man, one horse, and one silver spear, he pierced straight into the rear of the Northern Hu people.

Before the Northern barbarian soldier could react, the spear tip had already pierced his throat, and blood spurted out three feet away.

Before the man could even let out a scream, the immense force from the gun barrel sent him flying, knocking down several of his companions behind him.

Xiao Ji didn't even glance at him, and spurred his horse forward.

The silver spear danced like a dragon in his hands, each strike precise and deadly.

Thrust, poke, sweep, chop!

His movements were devoid of any frills; they were the simple, deadly moves honed by a general on the battlefield over forty years.

Wherever the spear tip passed, the Northern Hu soldiers fell in droves like wheat being harvested.

A Northern Hu general, wielding a curved sword, charged from the side and slashed at the front leg of Xiao Ji's mount.

The black horse let out a mournful neigh, its front legs buckled, and it threw Xiao Ji off its back.

The Northern Hu general was overjoyed. He spurred his horse forward, raised his curved sword high, and swung it down at Xiao Ji, who had not yet gotten up.

Xiao Ji rolled on the spot, and the curved blade slashed into the sand near his ear, just an inch away from his neck.

He did not give his opponent a second chance.

In the instant he flipped himself up, the silver spear flicked upwards, the tip piercing through the Northern Hu general's jaw and penetrating his entire skull.

Blood and brain matter splattered all over his face. He kicked the corpse aside, drew his silver spear, and continued charging forward without looking back.

No one can stop him.

Like a mad tiger fiercely protecting its cubs, he fought his way through a bloody battlefield.

On the sand dunes, Xiao Fang also saw the flag.

He saw the figure who was leading the way, charging ahead.

I saw the silver spear whirling through the crowd, and I saw the figure, after his warhorse was cut down, roll on the ground and knock down several more men with his ferocity.

His eyes suddenly felt a little sore.

His father, the king, has arrived.

The father he thought he would never forgive, the father he thought would forever leave him in Kyoto.

coming.