After being reborn, the aloof prime minister was once again forced by a tyrant.

The wind from the Western Rong carried gravel and sand, which crackled and popped against the black iron armor.

The gravel in the Gobi Desert was scorching hot under the sun, and hot winds swept dust across the slopes, making even the air seem to shimmer with distorted heat waves.

Xiao Jingyuan reined in his horse and stood at the highest point of Wild Wolf Slope, his black cloak fluttering wildly in the north wind like a taut black flag.

The black horse beneath him pawed at the ground, its breath hitting the scorching sand and sending up two plumes of white steam.

Behind them, 20,000 Yanran iron cavalry spread out in a goose-shaped formation, their black armor stained with blood and sand, their swords and spears like a forest, their banners obscuring the sun, stretching heavily from the top of the slope to the bottom.

The wind lashed against the armored formation, breaking into sharp, fragmented sounds. The entire force, like iron tempered with blood, stood silently awaiting the moment of its unsheathing.

When he led his troops to Xirong half a month ago, the battle situation had already deteriorated to a complete mess.

Xiao Zhaoyue's 20,000 Yanran Iron Cavalry were attacked from the north and south by Wanyan Hao and Nanyue's 50,000 reinforcements, and were trapped in the narrowest gorge of the Hexi Corridor. Their supply lines were cut off for seven days, 70% of their arrows were used up, and even the water bags in the army were empty.

Shen Hanzhou and Wanyan Lie led 5,000 elite troops across the vast desert, and then disappeared without a trace. The yellow sand covered the sky, and even carrier eagles could not fly out of that dead land. Everyone in the army whispered that the army was probably buried under the sand.

The generals urged a cautious and steady approach, suggesting that they wait for supplies and provisions to arrive before making any further moves.

Xiao Jingyuan tapped the reins with his fingertips and uttered only one word: "Strike."

That night, he led 8,000 elite cavalry, removed their heavy armor, and each man carried only three days' worth of dry rations and two jugs of water. Under cover of darkness, they circled around the Gobi Desert for over a hundred miles, heading straight for the rear camp of the Nanyue reinforcements.

That night there was no moon, and the sky over the Gobi Desert was as black as an inkwell, so dark that one could not see a person more than three steps away.

The commander of Nanyue calculated that the Beishuo army was exhausted from their long journey and would have to divide their forces to rescue the gorge, leaving them with no strength to launch an offensive. Therefore, the camp's defenses were as loose as a sieve.

The patrolman leaned against a camp pillar, dozing off, his spear in his arms. Only two lanterns hung at the camp gate, swaying in the wind, and even the deer antlers were crooked and not aligned.

Xiao Jingyuan divided his 8,000 cavalry into two groups: he personally led 6,000 to attack the main camp, while the remaining 2,000 circled around to the southern supply depot. Each cavalryman carried two bundles of firewood, along with banners and war drums. When the main camp began to sound battle cries, they set fire to the supplies, beat the drums to raise dust, and feign a large-scale encirclement.

Almost at the same instant Xiao Jingyuan rode his horse close to the camp gate, flames suddenly shot into the sky from the southern supply camp.

The night wind in the Gobi Desert is the fiercest. The fire, fueled by the wind, instantly licked at the grain stacks. The crackling and popping sounds, mixed with the drumming and shouting all around and the illusory shadows of banners swaying all over the mountains, made it seem as if tens of thousands of troops were closing in.

The soldiers of Nanyue were awakened from their sleep and saw that their food supplies had been burned and they were surrounded by enemies on all sides. Their morale was immediately thrown into chaos, and no one could tell how many troops had come from Beishuo.

Xiao Jingyuan drew his sword, spurred his horse, and was the first to burst into the camp gate.

The moment the heavy iron blade struck, the first camp palisade shattered, sending wood chips and dust flying everywhere.

He charged into the camp with his horse, blood spraying everywhere his blade flashed, and screams instantly pierced the dark night.

Eight thousand elite cavalrymen, like sharp knives burning at white-hot incandescence, pierced straight into the weak belly of the Nanyue army.

From the rear camp to the central army, a distance of three miles, Xiao Jingyuan's blade never stopped slicing.

The Xuan Tie Dao weighs fifty-two jin (approximately 26 kg), which would be difficult for an ordinary person to lift with one hand, but it felt as light as a willow branch in his hand.

The dull thud of blades slicing into flesh, the crisp crack of bones breaking, the dying screams, mingled with the crackling of horses' hooves trampling over the campfire, weaving a blood-soaked web of killing.

The soldiers of Nanyue surged up like a tide, and then collapsed like a tide. Within three zhang of him, there was no one left standing alive.

Lin Song, the commander of Nanyue, was a confidant of Pei Nanchi. Upon hearing the commotion, he donned his armor, grabbed his spear, and rushed out of the tent, only to run into Xiao Jingyuan charging into the central command tent.

He was one of the most formidable generals in Nanyue, wielding his long spear with great skill. Seeing the man opposite him clad in black armor and covered in blood, he assumed he was a junior general of the Northern Frontier and spurred his horse to thrust it straight at the man's heart.

Xiao Jingyuan raised his eyes, his gaze cold and sharp.

Without dodging or evading, he waited until the spear was close before grabbing the shaft with his bare hands. The black iron gauntlet, imbued with immense force, caused the spear shaft to tremble violently. Lin Song's hand instantly split open, and blood flowed down the shaft, dripping into the sand.

Before he could even react, he was dragged off the saddle, gun and all, and slammed heavily to the ground, raising a cloud of dust several feet high.

Xiao Jingyuan spurred his horse forward, a flash of sword light appearing.

With his head and body separated, Lin Song's eyes were wide open, and he could not believe that such divine power existed in the world until his death.

That night, the 50,000-strong army of Nanyue was leaderless and was routed by 8,000 cavalry.

At dawn, the Gobi Desert was littered with corpses, surrendered soldiers knelt on the ground, and discarded armor and weapons were piled up like small mountains.

When Xiao Jingyuan sheathed his sword, the edge of the Xuan Tie sword was curled. Blood splattered all over his face, dripping down his chin and hitting the scorching sand, where it seeped away in an instant, leaving only a dark brown mark.

He was hit in the ribs by a stray arrow, which cut open his armor plate. Blood soaked through his inner clothes. He raised his hand to press it, felt only a dull pain, and didn't pay it any mind.

The siege of the gorge was thus lifted.

When Xiao Zhaoyue led her army out of the gorge, she ran into him standing amidst the mountain of corpses, his black armor stained with blood, his murderous aura soaring to the sky.

The usually valiant princess suddenly pulled on the reins, and after a long pause, she dismounted, her voice hoarse with the pain of surviving a close call: "Everyone says His Majesty is a battlefield demon, but today we've seen the real deal."

Xiao Jingyuan casually wiped the blood from his face, his voice cold and hard: "Any news from Shen Hanzhou?"

Xiao Zhaoyue's expression darkened, and she shook her head: "Not yet."

Xiao Jingyuan frowned slightly, said nothing more, mounted his horse, and uttered only two words: "Head west."

Three days later, Shen Hanzhou and Wanyan Lie emerged from the depths of the vast sea with their surprise troops.

The five thousand Northern Shuo soldiers at the front were emaciated, their lips were cracked and peeling, and nearly a thousand of their warhorses had died, but each of them gripped a knife tightly in their hand and their eyes shone with a burning light.

Following behind the column was a vast cavalry force of the Western Rong—12,000 archers from three northern tribes whom Wanyan Lie had recruited along the way when he crossed the vast desert; they were all his former troops who had guarded the northern frontier.

Upon hearing that their young master was in the Northern Shuo army, the three tribal leaders immediately beheaded the supervisor sent by Wanyan Hao and brought their entire tribes to surrender.

Shen Hanzhou's face was half covered in scabs from the wind and sand. Upon seeing Xiao Jingyuan, he grinned, revealing a set of white teeth: "Your Majesty, this humble general has fulfilled his mission! All the patrols behind the Han Sea have been wiped out!"

Wanyan Lie followed behind him. His left leg was stung by a poisonous scorpion in the Gobi Desert and was swollen high, but he didn't utter a sound. He just leaned on Shen Hanzhou's shoulder and barely managed to stand.

Shen Hanzhou muttered curses, "How can you be so useless?" but his hand was gripping the other person's arm tightly.

Xiao Jingyuan stood at the camp gate, gazing at the distant, continuous Gobi Desert, and thought to himself: The Western Rong's game has come to fruition.

But he didn't expect that the Northern Barbarians would interfere at this time.

On the first night the army temporarily stopped at the camp to rest, Shen Hanzhou, carrying a medicine pot, kicked open Wanyan Lie's tent door.

Inside the tent, a dim yellow oil lamp was lit. Wanyan Lie was supporting himself on one leg, trying to bend down to reach the water pouch beside the bed, but his left leg gave way and he swayed.

"What are you showing off for?" Shen Hanzhou strode over, pressed the man back onto the couch, and slammed the medicine pot onto the small table with a dull thud. "Your leg is even more lame than it was back in the Gobi Desert of the Western Regions."

He squatted down, reached out to lift Wanyan Lie's trouser leg, and kept saying, "Back then, at least I could walk on my own, but now I have to help you after just a few steps. I've never been this tired even when I was fighting a war, helping you is more tiring than carrying a military flag."

When the trouser leg was rolled up, the left leg was swollen and shiny, the scorpion venom had not dissipated, and purplish bruises covered half of the leg.

Shen Hanzhou frowned, scooped out some ointment and rubbed it in his palm, his tone harsh: "Sit still, I'm going to apply the ointment for you."

"I... I can do it myself." Wanyan Lie reached out to take the ointment, his fingertips brushing against Shen Hanzhou's wrist before he quickly withdrew his hand. His Northern Shuo accent was slightly stammering. "You always apply it to the wrong... places."

Shen Hanzhou immediately bristled upon hearing this.

"That's because I thought you were a girl back then, and I was too scared to touch you with my eyes closed!" Shen Hanzhou suddenly looked up, his voice rising sharply. Then, remembering the patrolling soldiers outside the tent, he hurriedly lowered his voice, his ears already bright red. "Who knew you were actually a man!"

Wanyan Lie looked at his flustered appearance and smiled.

"You dare laugh!" Shen Hanzhou was even angrier. He reached out and poked his swollen leg, then regretted it immediately. He remained defiant, saying, "I'll divorce you when we get back to the capital!"

"No." Wanyan Lie shook his head, his light golden eyes reflecting the light of the oil lamp, soft as if soaked in honey. "You like... beautiful women, and I can be a beautiful woman too."

Shen Hanzhou stammered, his eyes widening: "You're a man, how could you—"

"Am I... not beautiful?" Wanyan Lie tilted his head slightly, a few strands of golden hair falling in front of his forehead, a faint smile at the corner of his eyes, and his voice became even softer.

Shen Hanzhou opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word for a long time.

He couldn't refute that.

Wanyan Lie looked at his flushed face and slowly added, "You said I... have a slim waist, and when we go back to the capital... you'll buy me lots of... beautiful dresses, but you haven't—"

"What do you, a grown man, need dresses for!"

Shen Hanzhou panicked and reached out to cover his mouth, but he couldn't control his strength and lunged forward, causing the edge of the bed to sway violently.

Wanyan Lie had an injury to his leg and was unsteady on his feet. He leaned back and fell straight onto the couch.

Before Shen Hanzhou could stop, he fell onto him, his hand tightly covering his mouth. The two were pressed tightly together, their breaths mingling.

The curtain was lifted at that very moment.

Xiao Jingyuan had come to check on the two men's injuries, and his steps were light when he looked up and saw this position—Shen Hanzhou was lying on top of Wanyan Lie, his hand covering Wanyan Lie's mouth, and the bedding on the bed was in a mess. Something was wrong no matter how you looked at it.

The tent remained silent for three breaths.

He's so energetic; it seems he's alright.

Xiao Jingyuan casually tossed out a sentence and turned to leave: "You guys continue."

"Your Majesty! Don't go! It's not what you think!"

Shen Hanzhou suddenly jumped up and shouted at the tent entrance, stamping his feet anxiously even though no one was around.

He turned and glared at Wanyan Lie, who was slowly sitting up on the couch, grinding his teeth in anger. "Aaaaaah! Wanyan Lie! You're the one sent by heaven to bring me down!"

Wanyan Lie watched his ruffled back and chuckled softly, the smile spreading across his eyes, enveloped in the warm light of the tent.