Chapter 838: Chapter 588: Meeting by the Beacon Fire_2
"The grudges of the past life... it’s time to settle them, don’t you think?"
Pei Jue held her tightly, saying nothing, not needing to say anything, burying his head in the crook of her neck and kissing her feverishly.
Feng Yun chuckled softly, leaning gently against him.
His chest was firm, carrying a reassuring strength.
The exhaustion from the journey seemed to wash away in this moment.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, relaxing entirely, "Don’t tease me. I’m feeling a bit drowsy. I’ve barely slept this whole trip... Let me rest for a bit. Wake me when we reach the camp."
Pei Jue’s hand slid across the smooth warmth of her skin, unwilling to stop.
Only when he heard her yawn did he respond softly, adjusting his position to make her more comfortable. Feng Yun nestled her head into the curve of his arm and closed her eyes.
Pei Jue pulled the Wind-Gown over her and held her tight.
The world outside fell silent.
The carriage moved beneath the pitch-black night sky, the attendants’ torches illuminating the snowflakes that danced wildly in the air, glimmering faintly like crystals.
The snow fell heavier and heavier, twirling in the air before landing lightly on the carriage roof, only to dissolve quietly. The road grew increasingly slippery, the wheels pressing out a water-slick path on the ground, the noise thick and sticky, resonating like low, lingering notes in a winter’s symphony...
"We’re here," Pei Jue said quietly, prompting Feng Yun to open her eyes.
She had already woken as the carriage slowed.
Yet, for a moment, she indulged in the sense of being cared for and stayed still.
"Alright." Feng Yun stretched lazily.
It was Pei Jue who helped her down from the carriage.
At this hour, the camp was still ablaze with lights, without a hint of slumber.
A group of people had gathered, their torches burning fiercely.
Outside the barracks, more figures arrived through the wind and snow, leading horses into the camp.
Feng Yun fixed her gaze on them and noticed a flat, uncovered cart, creaking and shuddering as it carved through the snow, pulled toward the brightest lights where it came to a halt.
Only then did she see clearly...
The cart carried the corpses of fallen soldiers.
In the glow of the torches, there were already several bodies laid to rest.
Feng Yun paused, momentarily stunned.
On her first day here, she was met with the cruellest face of war.
The joy of reunion was swept away by the harshness of death; even as she entered the camp, there wasn’t a trace of mirth on her face.
Pei Jue instructed someone to prepare water, glancing at her.
"Frightened?"
"How could I be?" Feng Yun smiled, "For your woman to be afraid of death would bring you shame, wouldn’t it?"
Pei Jue lowered his body slightly.
He towered over her, and had to bend down to meet her gaze.
Not an ounce of fear could be found in her expression—her unflinching eyes clear as water.
He chuckled softly, brushing her hair aside, "My woman."
Feng Yun shot him a glare. She wasn’t unfamiliar with death, nor naive about the raw realities of war. Her earlier emotion, perhaps, stemmed from the dissonance of stepping away from the bustling Xinjing into a stark war zone.
She removed her fur coat, noticing the tent was already warmed by a lit brazier, and gave Pei Jue a grateful smile.
Then she said, "People often describe Xiao San as overly cautious, but in truth, he’s fearless in embracing danger."
Pei Jue looked at her.
Since the campaign began, this had been the most unbiased assessment he’d heard about Xiao Cheng.
The two had crossed swords many times, and Xiao Cheng had repeatedly shattered Pei Jue’s initial impressions of him.
He could act decisively, abandoning pawns to save his king, brushing aside ridicule for cowardice, all the while biding his time until an opportunity presented itself, locking in for the kill—a relentless, unyielding battle until mutual exhaustion...
He resembled a starved wolf, lying in wait for ages; once his prey was in sight, he wouldn’t relent, patient and calculating, enduring trials beyond most men, waiting for the perfect chance to snap its neck...
Waging war against such a man was a torment.
Not a single lapse in vigilance was allowed.
Since winter began, this feeling had become overwhelmingly palpable.
It wasn’t so much Pei Jue thwarting Xiao Cheng’s advances as it was the Qi Army dragging him into exhaustion here...
The two armies faced off, neither capable of retreating an inch.
Suo Yue Ridge lay ahead—a defensive line and the battlefield of this deadly contest.
The man who could control the tides of war would be the true Emperor.
Both Pei Jue and Xiao Cheng sought to prove that person was themselves.
A head-on clash was the simplest tactic.
It was also the most demanding—on manpower, resources, and national strength...
In this confrontation, Pei Jue bore greater burdens than Xiao Cheng.
He was the War God.
The legend of Da Yong...
The embodiment of fear for their enemies.
In the scales of victory and defeat, the expectations placed upon Pei Jue far exceeded those on Xiao Cheng.
He couldn’t afford a single mistake.
But Xiao Cheng could.
"Go, attend to your tasks. Don’t overwork yourself." Feng Yun looked into his resolute eyes, her heart stirring with conflicting emotions—a mix of sorrow and worry. She smiled faintly.
