Section Six: Battle to the Death

With his strike landing true, he did not pause for an instant, fearing the Grand Chancellor within the carriage might take action. Wielding his heavy sword, he unleashed the Deadly Ground Assault, charging straight into the encircling enemy soldiers, hacking and slashing his way through at lightning speed—there was not a single foe who could withstand even one exchange. The soldiers, gripped by fear, dared not approach, only stabbing at him from afar.

In just moments, he had fought his way across over thirty yards, breaking out of the encirclement. But from the direction of Golden Radiance City surged forth a massive host of troops, and all around the fields of luminous grass, waves of movement revealed even more soldiers closing in.

Bu Jingxian plunged into the golden grass, cutting down any he met.

Meanwhile, the Grand Chancellor, composed and unhurried, ordered his carriage to halt along the official road. Stepping down, hands clasped behind his back, he watched the battle unfold from afar.

The Lord of Golden Radiance City dismounted swiftly and hurried over, kneeling in salute before him.

“Rise,” said the Grand Chancellor. “I have heard that the weapons forged in Golden Radiance City are of the finest quality, and that you are a renowned collector of treasured swords. If I were to request the loan of such blades, would you be willing?”

“Grand Chancellor, you are welcome to take whatever you require!” replied the city lord.

“Good! Then I shall not stand on ceremony. I must trouble you to immediately arm an elite unit with your finest swords and weapons, then draw additional troops from the army. Prepare a thousand axes, as many iron-forged chains as you can muster, each fixed with blades along their length, and as many thick ox tendons as possible—soak them all in water for use at once.”

The city lord received these orders and rushed to carry them out.

The Grand Chancellor then commanded his attendants to urgently requisition siege wagons from the nearest garrisons.

Bu Jingxian, now swallowed up by the enemy ranks, fought with desperate fury. But these were no common rabble—they were the trained regulars of Golden Radiance City, utterly unafraid of death. No matter how quickly he slew, their ranks closed in faster, and escape seemed all but impossible.

Meanwhile, the Moon Worshipper, leader of the Luminous Dusk Sect, waited anxiously with a dozen of her finest disciples, ready to provide support. Star Worshipper, unable to suppress his fretful worry, was on the verge of running ahead to scout but dared not act rashly with the sect leader nearby.

At last, after what felt an eternity, a breathless disciple arrived to deliver news.

“Sect Leader! Disaster has struck. The military governor was prepared all along—our young hero is now trapped in a deadly encirclement. I also saw the city lord personally leading a large force in that direction; it seems they have long conspired with the Reformists in secret.”

The Moon Worshipper’s face turned ashen. Calm as she usually was, even she understood the gravity of the calamity before them.

Star Worshipper immediately declared his intent to rush to the rescue, but the Moon Worshipper, regaining her composure, seized his arm.

“You must return to the manor at once and gather reinforcements. The enemy’s numbers are overwhelming—if we act alone, we will gain nothing and lose everything!”

Star Worshipper protested, “But—”

“No more words—go, quickly!” she insisted.

He understood that in matters such as these, only the sect leader or he himself could take the lead. Without further argument, he turned his horse and sped back toward the city.

Yet some among the disciples voiced their concern. “Sect Leader, we must not intervene. The Reformists have come prepared—if we attempt a rescue now, we will only drag the sect into grave peril. If we stay out of this, perhaps we can survive the coming storm…”

The Moon Worshipper saw that most of them agreed.

Of course, she had already thought as much herself. If Bu Jingxian died in battle, there would be no one left to bear witness. The Reformists could fabricate any accusation they wished; even if the city lord tried to testify, it would be mere words against words. To step in now would be to court destruction, to openly defy the King of Chen—a crime tantamount to treason.

In days past, she would have made the prudent choice without hesitation.

But now, in this moment, her heart wavered and faltered. She remembered the first time she met Bu Jingxian, standing in the broken opening of a prison cell, gazing at the figure outside—a young man in patched clothing, yet exuding the aura of a lion or tiger among a flock of sheep.

She recalled the night six days ago, standing in the attic pondering the sect’s future. She watched as Star Worshipper and Bu Jingxian returned, saw them part ways in the courtyard, and how Bu Jingxian did not go indoors, but instead picked up a discarded gulu fruit in the garden. Under the moonlight, he spoke to it, holding it up to admire the moon, his smile pure and innocent.

She had once thought Bu Jingxian ambitious and ruthless, but she now realized she was wrong. During his days at the Luminous Dusk Sect, he had always evaded Star Worshipper’s affectionate gaze, never once coveting the sect’s wealth or power; and now, though he must have suspected a trap, he had cast himself into danger without hesitation.

She often teased Star Worshipper for being a child unaware of his own heart.

Yet now, the Moon Worshipper realized she herself was no different. Last night, out of anxiety, she had spoken words she could not take back, and now, unwilling to see him die, she found herself weighing his life against the very survival of the sect.

She felt that if Bu Jingxian perished tonight, she would never again encounter another man like him—so magnificent, so loyal and true, yet gentle as flowing water.

She understood the political landscape of Chen: the King had long resolved to use the Grand Chancellor to enact reforms. The ministers all sought to dissuade him, but so far, their efforts were in vain. The Luminous Dusk Sect had always been martial in nature, and since the Moon Worshipper’s ascension, she had striven to make it a dominant force, hoping to safeguard its future against the shifting tides of power.

The emergence of Zuo An gave her hope for the sect’s revival.

Reason urged her again and again to lead her people back to the city without delay. Yet she was suffocating, torn by an agony that left her breathless.

“It’s only been a few short days of acquaintance—how could I risk the sect’s future for this?” she reminded herself over and over. Time and again, she opened her mouth to issue the order to withdraw, yet the words would not come.

“Sect Leader! You must decide quickly…” urged one disciple, bowing anxiously.

“You… You all return first,” she finally managed.

“Sect Leader? Are you—” The others saw her pale face and faltering speech and thought perhaps she was ill or her internal energy was disrupted. She waved them off, signaling she was fine and urging them to leave at once.

Only when all the Luminous Dusk disciples had departed did the Moon Worshipper employ her lightness skill, speeding toward the scene of action while telling herself endlessly, “Just to have a look—perhaps he’s already dead—just a look, nothing more…” Even she could scarcely believe her own hesitation and inner conflict.

When she arrived, she saw the moonlit fields swarming with soldiers. She leapt into the mountain woods by the roadside, scaling to a vantage point and gazing down. At a single glance, she was stunned speechless.

The golden fields below had long been ruined, soaked with blood across many acres. The ground was littered with the bodies of slain soldiers.

Bu Jingxian, bathed in blood, stood alone at the center. It was impossible to tell if the blood on him belonged to his enemies or himself.

The surrounding soldiers mounted their siege wagons, following the orders of their decurions as they hurled iron chains across the battlefield. The chains, flying in a crisscross web, were caught at the other end by waiting men, then passed swiftly along to dozens, even hundreds, of hands. At their commanders’ signal, the soldiers heaved in unison, drawing the chains tight from all directions, trapping Bu Jingxian at the very center.

The Moon Worshipper’s heart clenched. Dozens of iron chains now bound Bu Jingxian tightly, while soldiers atop the siege wagons shouted and pulled with all their might. She thought surely, in the next instant, he would be crushed alive. But then, in a sudden burst of force, Bu Jingxian let out a thunderous cry and shattered every chain binding him.

At the same time, his hands seized six or seven broken lengths of chain. With a powerful yank, he flung the hundred or more soldiers on the opposite ends into the air, sending them crashing into the open space circled by siege wagons. Most died instantly upon hitting the ground; those who survived were slain by Bu Jingxian’s sword or trampled beneath his feet as he strode past.

Even knowing of his extraordinary strength, the Moon Worshipper could scarcely believe what she saw. Only then did she notice that every chain was lined with barbs or blades—clearly, Bu Jingxian had paid a heavy price for breaking free.

Yet the gaps left by the fallen soldiers were immediately filled by others.

The Grand Chancellor stood atop a siege wagon, watching with cold eyes.

Suddenly, he spoke.

“Zuo An, if you surrender now and testify to the Luminous Dusk Sect’s treason, I can still offer you a way out. Otherwise, you will surely die!”

Bu Jingxian, standing alone at the center, replied with a scornful, icy laugh.