She felt as though she were trapped beneath an invisible, supple net. No matter how she struggled, she couldn't escape the complicated feelings Lin Xuan had awakened in her—feelings that were both shameful and strangely comforting.
Yet the war would not pause for anyone's personal feelings.
Soon, a new crisis descended upon Xiangyang. Though the Mongol Army had suffered heavy losses in the previous night raid, its vast war machine had not ground to a halt.
On the contrary, Mongol supply convoys had become more frequent and larger. Like countless black serpents winding across the land, they carried food, weapons, and soldiers from the north toward Xiangyang City without end. Clearly, they were preparing for an even larger siege.
The mood within the city grew tense once more. Guo Jing was frantic, rushing day and night between the defensive encampments and the Council Hall. His square face was etched with deep concern, and the furrows between his brows had grown more pronounced.
"Rong'er, these Tartars are like locusts. We wipe out one batch, and another swarms in!" Guo Jing sighed heavily as he studied the map of the city's defenses. "Their supplies are plentiful. How can we afford to wear them down for long?"
Huang Rong frowned as well. Her delicate fingers, pale as jade, tapped lightly on the table. In the days spent analyzing intelligence from beyond the city, she had only grown more troubled.
The Mongol supply lines were vast, but they were not without weaknesses. A bold idea had begun to take shape in her mind, but carrying it out would require more precise planning—and an aide who could fully understand and execute her intentions.
Her gaze drifted toward the room outside the study, settling on Lin Xuan's quarters.
She didn't want to be alone with Lin Xuan again. But reality forced her to admit that, in military strategy, he was now her equal, perhaps even her superior. Their previous battle had proved as much.
At the next two military councils, Huang Rong tried to avoid Lin Xuan, deliberately keeping him out of the core discussions.
Yet when Guo Jing gathered the various generals and Beggar Sect elders to discuss defensive strategies, Lin Xuan offered an exceptionally precise analysis of the Mongol supply routes.
He made no attempt to show off. In a calm, objective tone, he explained his assessment of the Mongol supply lines, his estimate of the size of their convoys, and the weaknesses in their escort.
His words were modest, yet every sentence was incisive and carried weight. The generals and Guo Jing couldn't help but take notice. They were astonished by Lin Xuan's grasp of the enemy's intelligence and his extraordinary powers of observation.
"Young Master Lin is absolutely right!" an elderly general exclaimed, stroking his beard. "We saw that the Mongol supplies had increased, but never considered that the larger they grew, the more obvious their weaknesses would become!"
The generals all agreed and urged Huang Rong to consult with Lin Xuan. Guo Jing went further, addressing her directly. "Rong'er, I think Xuan'er truly has a remarkable talent for strategy. He's a hundred times better than me! You should listen to his opinions more often."
Huang Rong was torn. Reason told her that she couldn't let her emotions cloud her judgment when Xiangyang's fate was at stake.
The memory of Lin Xuan touching her and leaving her mind in a daze filled her with shame. But with the country and its people in danger, she couldn't afford to dwell on personal feelings.
She took a deep breath, suppressing the unnameable agitation and turmoil in her chest. After a moment of struggle, clarity returned to her bright eyes.
"Very well," Huang Rong finally said with a reluctant sigh, her voice now resolute. "Xuan'er, come to my study."
Lin Xuan was overjoyed, but his face remained composed as he bowed his head respectfully and agreed.
The private discussion in the study was solemn and tense. Candlelight flickered across the maps and sand table on the walls. The air held the scent of ink and faint sandalwood, along with an almost imperceptible intimacy that only Lin Xuan and Huang Rong could sense.
Huang Rong sat in the seat of honor, dressed in dark, close-fitting clothes that made her slender, shapely figure seem even more delicate. Her waist was so slim it looked as though one hand could encircle it, like a willow branch swaying in the breeze.
She rested her slender hand against her temple. Her beautiful eyes shone like stars, their light mingling intelligence with fatigue. When her gaze swept over Lin Xuan, it held a complexity she could barely conceal—both a teacher's authority and helplessness toward him, as well as a dependence she kept deeply hidden.
Lin Xuan sat opposite her, at just the right distance—not so far as to seem aloof, but not so close as to seem overly familiar, as though nothing had happened between them. He remained focused on the map and sand table throughout. His eyes were clear, his voice steady, and he played the part of a strategist devoted entirely to his country and its people to perfection.
"The Mongol supply convoys have indeed been unusually frequent lately. In particular, the route from the north into the depths of the grasslands, passing through Withered Wood Ridge, has seen almost constant traffic." Lin Xuan pointed to a mountain ridge on the map and spoke in a low voice. "The terrain is steep and covered in brush. It's a natural ambush site."
Huang Rong's eyes followed his finger. She studied the map, her brows knitting together. "Withered Wood Ridge... It's certainly easy to defend and difficult to attack, but surely the Mongols will have stationed a strong force there?" she asked, her voice sweet with doubt.
Lin Xuan nodded.
"Master is quite right. That's why we aren't looking for a full-scale engagement. We're going to cut off their head." Lin Xuan's gaze sharpened, and his voice showed a precise grasp of the moment. "The Mongols believe their supply convoy is safe, so they'll let their guard down. On a dark, windy night, we can concentrate our elite troops and strike directly at the convoy's most critical elements—the wagons carrying food and military supplies, along with their commanding officer. If we burn the provisions and kill their commander, it will severely hinder their offensive."
A glimmer entered Huang Rong's eyes. She instinctively leaned forward. Beneath her dark clothes, her full chest rose slightly, her slender waist narrow enough to encircle, her figure radiating a startling allure. Without realizing it, she braced an elbow on the table and leaned closer to Lin Xuan, trying to hear every word more clearly.
Lin Xuan felt Huang Rong move closer and was secretly pleased. He continued:
"To keep a large Mongol relief force from interfering, we need to create several false battlefields. I've found a few hidden valleys outside the city where Beggar Sect disciples can pose as small units and stage harassment attacks at different times and places, distracting the Mongols."
"At the same time, we can use several hidden tunnels discovered inside Xiangyang City that the Mongols haven't noticed. On the night of the raid, we'll send a surprise force through one of them to strike from behind, driving straight toward the rear of the Mongol supply route and blocking their retreat or relief forces."
He even laid out in detail how they could use Withered Wood Ridge's terrain to set up their ambush.
"We can plant fire oil and boulders on both sides of Withered Wood Ridge. Once the supply convoy enters, we detonate them at the same time and create chaos. Our elite vanguard will rush out from the ambush site and make straight for the enemy commander. The Beggar Sect disciples will cut off support from the rear and make enough noise in a short time to convince the Mongols that we've committed a large force."
"We'll also create false signs of retreat. After the supply route has been burned, our main force will withdraw quickly, leaving behind traces that lead the Mongols toward a trap we've prepared, rather than along our actual escape route."
Lin Xuan's plan fit together perfectly, minimizing the risks. He had accounted for every detail and arranged every part of the operation with such precision that it was impossible not to be impressed.
The more Huang Rong listened, the more astonished she became. She realized Lin Xuan's way of thinking had already surpassed that of any general she knew. He understood not only the art of war, but also the enemy's changing mindset, building all of it into a complete system of warfare. Even she could hardly match such an ability.
She picked up the ink brush from the table and began marking the spots Lin Xuan had indicated on the map. Her slender fingertips occasionally brushed his. The warmth sent a strange current through her body, making her shiver.
Huang Rong's heart tightened. She forced herself to focus on the tactics and not let that strange thrill distract her.
"Xuan'er, this strategy of yours is truly... ingenious!" Huang Rong praised him sincerely, her voice brimming with barely restrained excitement and exhilaration, as melodious as an oriole's song. "With this plan, even if the Mongols bring their full army to bear, they'll be no more than trapped beasts!"
Her gaze filled with an unprecedented admiration for Lin Xuan—a thrill at finding a kindred spirit, and a fascination with his remarkable talent. For the moment, the shame and turmoil he had stirred within her seemed to be completely eclipsed by his extraordinary intelligence, leaving only unadulterated praise and reliance.
"Master is too kind. This disciple has only done what little he could," Lin Xuan replied respectfully, still humble in tone, though his eyes shone with confidence. "Without Master's wise leadership, my crude plans would be of no use."
Huang Rong smiled slightly. In the candlelight, she looked especially beautiful, and her expression held a rare ease and charm, like a spring breeze passing over a blooming peach grove. She gently patted Lin Xuan's shoulder with her slender hand. The soft, supple touch passed through the fabric and into his body, sending a tingling sensation through him.
"Xuan'er, you and I will plan and command this battle together!" Huang Rong declared, her voice firm, her eyes full of trust in Lin Xuan.
Moonlit Surprise Attack
Night fell, shrouding the wilderness outside Xiangyang City in darkness like a splash of ink. A waning moon hung alone beyond the heavy clouds, its curved sliver casting only a faint, cold light.
The distant mountains and nearby trees became vague silhouettes in the gloom, their indistinct shapes adding to the air of deadly menace and mystery. A cold wind swept in from afar, carrying the scent of earth and wild grass as it rushed through the woods and across the land that would soon be ablaze with war.
The Mongol Army's enormous supply convoy, made up of hundreds of wagons, rolled slowly toward Xiangyang from the north under heavy guard.
The wheels groaned rhythmically as they bumped over the uneven dirt road. Their muffled creaking echoed through the still night like the beat of a death drum.
The air reeked of the Mongols' distinctive animal musk and the sour stench of exhausted sweat. The soldiers wore heavy leather armor, their faces worn by the long march. None of them noticed that they had already entered the deadly trap Lin Xuan and Huang Rong had carefully prepared.
Withered Wood Ridge loomed in the night like a slumbering prehistoric beast. Brush covered both sides of the valley, and jagged rocks littered the slopes, making it a natural place for an ambush.
Elite Xiangyang troops lay hidden there under Lin Xuan's command, as silent as ghosts and indistinguishable from the night as they waited for their prey. The wind howled, but could not mask their tense, orderly breathing.
Dressed in dark clothes, Lin Xuan blended perfectly into the shadows. Agile and nimble, he leaped across the rocks like a gibbon, slipping silently through the rugged woods.
His gaze was sharp and composed. Even surrounded by utter darkness and danger, he showed not the slightest sign of panic. It was the composure of a seasoned warrior—or a natural-born talent.
A faint, clean fragrance surrounded him, a distinctive scent naturally produced by the nourishment of the Yin Yang Deficit Supplementation Technique. It was masculine yet restrained. Anyone who caught it felt their mind settle, as though the tension around them had been gently soothed.
This side of him was utterly different from the clever strategist who had spoken so eloquently by day. Now he seemed more like a ruthless, decisive hunter of the night, every breath and every muscle poised for battle.
Whispers and hand signals passed between the soldiers. Lin Xuan quietly issued a series of orders, each precise as to both position and timing, without a moment's hesitation, like an instinct carved into his bones.
"First squad, slip into the brush on the northwest side. When the signal comes, set the fire oil alight at once... Move quickly. The bigger the blaze, the better!" He kept his voice low, speaking right beside the messenger's ear, yet there was an undeniable authority in it.
"Second squad, guard the retreat route and keep the enemy reinforcements away. You must hold them off for at least half an incense stick!" He pointed in one direction, his tone firm.
"Third squad, come with me straight into the center. Remember, our target is their commander! Kill him at any cost!" His gaze was as sharp as a blade as he stared ahead, as though he could already see the burly Mongol general through the darkness.
Every soldier trusted him completely. They had never seen such a young yet experienced commander. He could devise strategies from behind the lines, but he was also willing to enter the battlefield and lead from the front. Stranger still, wherever his gaze fell, it seemed to calm their taut nerves even as it kindled an endless fighting spirit within them.
"Whoa—"
As the main body of the Mongol supply convoy lumbered into the narrowest part of the ambush site at Withered Wood Ridge, Lin Xuan, who had been hidden in the darkness, saw a flash of light in his eyes. His muscles reached a state of perfect tension and relaxation at once, like a bow pulled taut.
He suddenly raised his hand.
The next second, a piercing arrow's cry tore through the night! Trailing fire, the arrow shot straight into the sky, slicing through the darkness like the scythe of death. It was Lin Xuan's signal to attack.
In an instant, the slopes on both sides of Withered Wood Ridge erupted in flames!
The fire oil planted in advance ignited, and roaring flames shot into the night sky, bathing the scene in red. The flames and thick smoke swept across the convoy, splitting it in two.
Boulders poured down the slopes like rain, their deafening rumble smashing the supply wagons to pieces. Splintered wood flew everywhere, and screams and whinnying horses filled the air, tearing the silence of the night apart.
"Kill!" Lin Xuan's command rang out alongside the roar of flames and falling rocks, like a death warrant from the deepest pits of hell.
The Xiangyang troops, who had lain in wait for so long, surged from all directions like a tide, roaring as they charged the disorganized Mongols. They clashed at close quarters, and fierce combat broke out at once. Swords flashed and blood flew as the valley became a living hell.
Lin Xuan moved like lightning among the enemy ranks. He did not use the exquisite palm techniques of the Nine Yin Manual. Instead, he turned the comprehensive transformation of his body through the Yin Yang Deficit Supplementation Technique into unparalleled agility, speed, and strength.
Every dodge was perfectly timed, and every strike landed precisely on a vital point. He stepped into the Mongols' blind spots, each attack leaving them unable to defend themselves.
With what looked like a casual tap of his finger, he could make a burly Mongol soldier lose his balance and stumble sideways. With an apparently careless sidestep, he could send an enemy crashing into the attacks of his own companions.
Each of his strikes was simple, as though returning to the source of the art, yet carried terrifying force. He made no wasted movements. Every step and every attack went straight to the heart of the matter, each one lethal.
When Mongol soldiers faced him, they would feel their minds grow confused without knowing why, gripped by an instinctive fear and sluggishness that twisted their movements and left them full of openings. Many fell dead before they could even see him move, their eyes filled with confusion and resentment.
The elite force under his command drove into the enemy's central formation like a sharp knife, heading straight for the main command wagon at the heart of the supply convoy. None of the Mongol fighters they encountered along the way—whether swordsmen or spearmen—could stop them. Lin Xuan was like a streak of black lightning, leaving fallen enemies in his wake.
Meanwhile, Huang Rong commanded the rear from a hidden hollow about ten miles from Withered Wood Ridge. Dressed in dark, close-fitting clothes, her shapely figure seemed even more slender, her waist so narrow it looked like a tender spring willow swaying in the breeze. Her allure was breathtaking.
She sat at a makeshift campaign table, a large map of Xiangyang's defenses spread across it. The cold moonlight could not pierce the clouds, but candlelight in the tent lit the small space and illuminated her lovely face.
Huang Rong rested her slender hand against her temple. Her beautiful eyes shone like stars, their light mingling intelligence with fatigue. Her skin, smooth as jade, gleamed faintly in the candlelight, and the graceful, delicate line of her profile remained composed even in the most tense moments.
Her elegant, firm neck leaned forward slightly as she studied the map, as though she wanted to commit every detail to memory. Her full chest rose and fell with each breath, betraying the turbulent emotions within her. With a light flick of her finger, signal flares rose one after another into the night sky, carrying her precise orders to coordinate the movement of the forces waiting in reserve.
Beggar Sect disciples moved like shadows from place to place, harassing the enemy and creating false impressions that made it difficult for the Mongols to identify the main attack. Occasional explosions and shouts of battle came from the distance. Those were small Beggar Sect units, scattered across the area and drawing the Mongols' attention according to Lin Xuan's plan.
She could feel the course of the battle at Lin Xuan's end. Though she couldn't see it, the precise rhythm of the attacks and his command of the troops, as natural as moving her own arm, brought an unprecedented excitement and pride to her weary face. She had been right. Lin Xuan truly was a rare talent who could help her turn the tide.
"Reporting to the helmswoman: the main attack at Withered Wood Ridge is going well. The Mongol center is in disarray, the fires are burning, and Young Master Lin's assault force has reached the enemy commander's wagon!" A Beggar Sect disciple bowed, unable to hide his excitement.
At the news, the taut string within Huang Rong finally loosened a little. A glimmer entered her beautiful eyes, and an almost besotted admiration appeared openly on her exquisite face. She let out a long breath that carried the faint, enticing fragrance of orchids.
"Good!" she said, her voice excited and clear, especially sweet in the silent tent. "Order the reserve force to enter through the third tunnel at once and cut off the enemy supply route from behind! Stop the fleeing soldiers. Don't let a single one escape!" She knew Lin Xuan's plan was unfolding exactly as she had envisioned, step by step toward victory.
The night deepened, and the air filled with the stench of blood. Fires at Withered Wood Ridge lit the silhouettes of soldiers fighting in blood-soaked combat. Lin Xuan was like a ruthless god of war in the night, using his astonishing strength and precise command to burn the Mongol supply lines to the ground, piece by piece.
By the first hint of dawn, the flames at Withered Wood Ridge had begun to die down, leaving only charred walls, scattered ruins, and drifting smoke. Hundreds of supply wagons had been reduced to ash. The Mongol commander and almost his entire elite guard had been wiped out, while the surviving soldiers fled in every direction like stray dogs.
Lin Xuan stood on a high ridge, his dark clothes speckled with blood. In the morning light, he looked somewhat weary, but his deep eyes were filled with the joy of victory and absolute confidence. He gazed toward Xiangyang City, a faint smile curving his lips.
It was a perfect victory.
Standing atop the city wall, Huang Rong gazed at Lin Xuan from afar, his bearing proud and spirited. The morning breeze stirred her silky black hair, making her exquisitely beautiful face seem even more refined and radiant.
The rosy dawn made her already lovely face all the more captivating, an indescribable charm flowing through her eyes and brows. Lin Xuan's figure was reflected in her bright eyes, while complicated emotions surged within her like the tide.
She felt relief and excitement at Xiangyang's great victory, along with sincere admiration for Lin Xuan's extraordinary talent. More than that, her complicated feelings for him—both shameful and impossible to let go—were quietly growing like vines, winding around her heart.
Celebratory Banquet
As the first golden ray of sunlight broke free from the heavy clouds in the east, tore through the sky, and fell upon the battered wilderness outside Xiangyang City, the Mongol encampment had already been reduced to a scorched wasteland. Thick smoke rose from the destroyed supply route like a wounded dragon, climbing into the heavens and blotting out half the sky.
The air reeked of char and blood, silently bearing witness to the devastating surprise attack of the night before.
Lin Xuan's plan to attack the supply route by night had succeeded brilliantly!
With their provisions destroyed and reinforcements nowhere in sight, the Mongol Army's morale collapsed in an instant. They suffered heavy casualties and were utterly routed, fleeing in panic toward the rear like stray dogs. The Xiangyang garrison pursued them and seized a great deal of supplies and weapons that the Mongols had been unable to burn, replenishing the city's depleted stores.
An unprecedented joy swept over Xiangyang in the morning. When the first victorious soldiers returned with the news, the people gathered before the city gates. Their initial disbelief gave way to shock, then erupted into thunderous cheers.
Their voices seemed ready to drive the Mongol shadow from above the city walls forever.
"We won! We really won!"
"Young Master Lin is a brilliant strategist, a god sent from heaven!"
People spread the news from one to another, weeping tears of joy, their eyes brimming with tears.
Guo Jing personally went out of the city to assess the spoils. He looked at the Mongol supplies reduced to ash, then at Lin Xuan, whose face was covered in dust but whose spirit remained high. Gratitude and admiration could not be suppressed on his square face.
"Xuan'er! You've done it again!" Guo Jing clapped Lin Xuan on the shoulder with a large hand, his voice ringing like a bell with sincere praise. "Without your brilliant plan, the Mongol supplies wouldn't have been burned so thoroughly. The crisis facing Xiangyang has been greatly eased. You truly are Xiangyang's lucky star!"
Lin Xuan bowed respectfully. He gave all the credit to Guo Jing and Huang Rong. "Master's Husband, you honor me. This was all thanks to your courage and leadership on the battlefield, and Master's brilliant plans. I merely offered a few crude ideas from the armchair. It was the Xiangyang soldiers who fought and bled to put them into practice."
Guo Jing scratched his head and laughed simply. "Xuan'er, you're too modest! Ha, you're right! The soldiers worked hard, too!"
Huang Rong stood atop the city wall, gazing at the fires beyond the city and the returning soldiers. In the morning light, golden rays gilded her silhouette with a sacred glow, making her look especially graceful and lovely.
A pale pink gauze robe stirred in the breeze, draping softly over her shapely figure like a light cloud. It swayed gently in the wind, subtly tracing her captivating curves.
Her features were as lovely as a painting, her skin smooth as jade. Her flawless cheeks glowed healthily in the sunlight, and she looked so refined and lovely that she seemed untouched by the dust of the world.
Now, beyond the fatigue of the previous night, her eyes held an emotion too complicated to name. She watched Lin Xuan surrounded by Guo Jing and the soldiers. The local people gathered around him too, bowing in gratitude and calling out the names "Little Zhuge" and "Young Master Lin." Their cheers rose and fell, deafening.
Lin Xuan's fame had grown beyond that of Little Zhuge. Throughout Xiangyang City and the surrounding military camps and villages, everyone knew his name. Wherever he went, the people gathered around him, looking at him with reverence and hope and seeing him as a heaven-sent hero who could turn the tide and save them.
A relieved yet complicated smile curved Huang Rong's lips. She was proud of Lin Xuan's achievements, as though he were a treasure she had personally cultivated, now dazzling the world with his brilliance.
But deep down, the shame and confusion born of that kiss in the bamboo grove had grown even more intense. Every word of praise the people gave Lin Xuan struck at her secret in a way she couldn't explain.
He had openly become Xiangyang's hero, yet in the private memories she kept hidden, that "hero" had once been so bold and domineering, violating her boundaries. The stark contrast left her even more conflicted and troubled.
There was a secret between them, one no one else could know, and it made her heart race.
Their intimate friction on horseback that night, the intense entanglement of lips and teeth, and the sensation that had made her lose control of her body—all of it haunted her like a nightmare, returning again and again. Yet when she looked at Lin Xuan now, his eyes were still clear, his manner still humble and respectful, as though it had all been her imagination.
His eerie calm only made it harder for her to tell what was real.
Before you continue