Tang Dynasty: Starting with 3,000 elite cavalry, a bloody battle to retake the city.

If... Han Ye really is that person.

Is he still alive?

Li Jing dared not even think about it.

He felt a chill run down his spine, and his voice was as cold as iron: "This matter ends here."

Our army is still searching for the whereabouts of the Ghost-Faced General—once we find him, we will bring him back to Chang'an. If Han Ye is also there, we will question him face to face and the truth will come out.

Do you understand?

Li Yingge nodded silently.

Her feelings were exactly the same as Li Jing's.

In the past, she would have been eager to unravel the mystery and uncover the truth.

But now... she's scared.

Because the Ghost-Faced General's injuries were too severe.

It was so heavy that one wondered if the person could even breathe.

If Han Ye is him...

Does that mean they lost Han Ye a long time ago?

Even... he has forever lost that demon god on the battlefield?

On the hillside, the wind swirls up the remaining clouds.

Li Yingge sat alone and slowly took out a piece of white cloth from her bosom.

That was a poem that Han Ye wrote himself when she left Chang'an.

I cut my own Shu brocade battle robe, and on horseback, I requested a long spear.

How many extraordinary men are there in this world, yet none are willing to travel thousands of miles to the battlefield?

The handwriting was clear and neat, each stroke clean and crisp, yet it brought tears to her eyes.

She suddenly remembered the black mole on his palm—a tiny spot hidden deep within the lines of his palm.

On that day, when Gongsun Zan carried the Ghost-Faced General onto his horse, she inadvertently caught a glimpse of his drooping hand—stained with blood, yet still revealing a black mole on his palm, its position perfectly clear.

The same.

Her fingertips trembled as she gripped the white cloth tightly, her voice as soft as a sigh in the wind:

"This time... I hope you're not him."

In the past, she tried every means to prove that he was him.

Now, she'd rather be wrong.

As long as Han Ye isn't the Ghost-Faced General, as long as he's still alive and well, even if he's just a weak scholar who can only recite poetry, she'll accept it.

Just then, a loud shout from the distant camp broke the silence:

"His Majesty is awake!"

Li Yingge suddenly snapped out of her daze, quickly wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, carefully tucked the white cloth into her body, and hurried towards the central command tent.

On the banks of the Wei River, the campfires still burn.

Li Shimin, who had been asleep for a full day and night, finally opened his eyes.

Changsun Wuji stayed by the bedside, never leaving for a moment.

When Li Jing, Fang Xuanling, Li Yingge and their entourage stepped into the tent, everyone paused, their hearts trembling.

Li Shimin was sitting on the bed, his face pale, but his eyes were clear.

But what was most striking was his head of black hair.

Overnight, however, his hair turned as white as snow, each strand glaringly bright, as if fate had forcibly ripped away all his years.

His hair turned white overnight.

It's not a legend, it's true.

Everyone felt a pang of sadness, fought back sobs, and knelt down in unison:

"Greetings, Your Majesty."

Li Shimin took a sip of warm water, his breathing calmed down, and he asked in a low voice, "Fuji, how long... have I been asleep?"

Changsun Wuji bowed and replied, "Your Majesty, it was one day and one night."

The tent was silent except for the crackling of the candlelight.

That head of white hair, shimmering in the firelight, was heartbreaking.

Li Shimin nodded slightly, his gaze sharp as a knife, and spoke again: "Pharmacist, how did this battle end? What were our casualties? Have they been tallied?"

Li Jing's throat tightened, his lips moved slightly, but he remained silent for a long time.

His voice was hoarse and deep, as if seeping from the ground: "Your Majesty... this battle has been won, truly a blessing from Heaven upon the Great Tang."

As for the other trivial matters, I'll report them in detail after we return to Chang'an..."

He was genuinely scared.

I fear that this emperor might suffer another blow.

Turning white hair overnight is a sign of a broken heart and soul.

Qin Shubao fell on the battlefield, and the fate of the Ghost-Faced General remains unknown—which of these pains wasn't heart-wrenching? Li Shimin could withstand the storms of the empire, but could he withstand the pain of losing generals one after another?

But who was Li Shimin?

The supreme ruler, an iron-blooded emperor, how could he not see through your little bit of forbearance?

He abruptly raised his eyes, his gaze exploding with a blood-red intensity, and roared in a hoarse voice, "Speak! I want to hear it all!"

In that instant, the heavens and earth seemed to tremble.

Li Jing gritted his teeth and finally dared not hide it any longer: "Although we won this battle... our army suffered about 50,000 casualties, and more than 100,000 civilians were killed or wounded..."

boom--!

It was like a thunderbolt striking my mind!

150,000!

A total of 150,000 precious lives were buried in the yellow sand!

This only includes those who died in battle! Those who lost limbs or suffered lifelong disabilities are not included!

However, Li Shimin led only 130,000 troops on this personal expedition!

Almost the entire army was wiped out!

"puff--!"

A mouthful of scalding blood spurted from Li Shimin's mouth, staining his front robe red.

"His Majesty!"

Li Jing, Changsun Wuji, and others exclaimed in unison and hurriedly stepped forward to help him up.

But Li Shimin remained unmoved, his eyes bloodshot as if they had burned the mountains and rivers, his teeth clenched, and he squeezed out each word from between his bloodied jaws:

"Turks... I am irreconcilably opposed to you!"

Even though—Khan Jieli is dead.

Even if—the enemy chieftain is executed.

So what?!

The Turkic royal court still exists, the bloodline of the steppe remains unbroken, a new Khan will surely succeed to the throne, and the iron cavalry will still be able to break through the border!

Hatred will not dissipate because of the death of one person.

At this moment, Li Shimin saw only destruction.

He wished he could mobilize a million troops to sweep through the Turkic territory, turning the entire Turkic land into scorched earth, leaving not a single blade of grass behind!

But he also knew—

The Tang Dynasty suffered a severe blow after this battle.

Our current national strength cannot support a war that could lead to the extermination of our entire nation.

He could only suppress his overwhelming rage deep within his bones.

After a long while, he slowly closed his eyes, his voice dry and hoarse, like sand grinding against each other:

"Has the Ghost-Faced General... returned?"

These words, spoken lightly, struck everyone's hearts like a heavy hammer.

Li Yingge's eyelashes trembled suddenly, and her fingertips felt icy cold.

Li Jing was also deeply shaken.

Even he couldn't be sure who the Ghost-Faced General was, or whether he was truly connected to Han Ye.

But he knew that he could not hesitate at this moment.

"Your Majesty," he said in a deep voice, "there is news... but he has not yet returned."

Li Shimin's tense expression finally relaxed slightly.

If there is news, then there is still hope.

He was not afraid of defeat, death, or the collapse of the country.

What he feared was that it would all be silent and without a trace.

The Tang Dynasty won this battle.

But the victory was too crushing.

The scene was so tragic that corpses piled up like mountains and blood flowed like rivers.

So tragically, even veterans like Qin Shubao were buried far from home.

He didn't want to see yet another hero disappear into the sandstorm.

Especially the man wearing a ghost mask, burdened by the souls of countless wronged souls.

Li Shimin's voice was hoarse, almost pleading: "Read his news to me."

Li Jing hesitated for a moment, then finally waved his hand.

Several weary Tang scouts immediately stepped forward, their armor stained with blood, their faces filled with exhaustion and sorrow.

They are the people who have been searching desperately for the past few days.

They witnessed the last traces of that lone army.

The first scout knelt, his voice trembling: "Your Majesty! Last night at midnight, while pursuing the routed Turkic army on the western front, I witnessed thousands of masked soldiers being surrounded and annihilated by the enemy, fleeing westward in a trail of blood stretching for miles..."

The second person spoke, his voice choked: "Yesterday morning, shouts of battle suddenly arose from the Turkic camp a hundred miles away. In the chaos, a group of men in black armor broke through the encirclement, their armor stained with blood. The leader... wore a demon mask..."

The third man swallowed hard and said with difficulty, "At noon, they were surrounded in a canyon, and the battle was fierce... When they broke out, they were all covered in blood, and less than five out of ten survived..."

The fourth man bowed his head, his hands clenched tightly: "Last night we encountered pursuers again. The Ghost Face Army was exhausted and forced to split into two groups... Our army split into two teams to pursue them, but they have not returned yet..."

The fifth man's voice suddenly deepened, as if it came from hell: "A unit on the western front was trapped in the mountains, completely wiped out, with no survivors... their remains have been devoured by wild wolves..."

The sixth man could barely speak: "The remnants on the eastern front... retreated into a Turkic tribe's territory, where flames soared into the sky and battle cries shook the fields... We were unable to get close... To this day... their fate remains unknown."

Quiet.

A deathly silence.

The wind blew past the tattered flag, stirring up dust, as if it were sending off the dead.

No one dared to look up.

No one dared to speak.

Li Shimin stood still, like a frozen statue.

Blood trickled down the corner of his mouth, but he was completely unaware.

The souls of 150,000 dead have not yet cooled.

A veteran has passed away.

And now-

The final suspense hangs in the air.

The man who walked through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, draped in a black robe...

Are you still alive?

Everyone present felt as if their hearts were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, making it hard to breathe.

The intermittent battle reports sounded like a knife scraping against my bones.

The scene of the masked warriors fighting bloody battles seemed to be right before my eyes—raging flags, mountains of corpses and seas of blood, iron armor stained red, and roars shaking the heavens!

Li Shimin stared intently at the returning soldier, his eyes reddening as if they were about to bleed: "And then?! Tell me! What happened next?!"

later?

There was no "later" after all!

After the last soldier fell, no one sent back a single word.

The Ghost-Faced General, along with his elite troops, vanished into thin air as if swallowed by the yellow sand.

"Since then..." the soldier's voice choked, his nose stung, and he slowly lowered his head, "there has been no further news."

As soon as he finished speaking, the entire military camp fell into a deathly silence.

You could hear a pin drop.

The wind whipped up dust as it swept past the tents, and the torches crackled and popped, casting flickering light on everyone's faces.

That silence was more suffocating than the battle of thousands of troops.

They could imagine how that lone army charged left and right behind enemy lines, how they were surrounded and intercepted, and how they fought to the death in desperate situations... But they could only stand here, listening and waiting, powerless to do anything!

It felt like a mountain was pressing down on my heart.

Li Jing and the others clenched their fists so tightly their knuckles turned white, and their eyes were already red.

What surged in my chest was anger, grief, and a sense of powerlessness!

Li Shimin was stunned.

He stood frozen in place, his bloodshot eyes suddenly welling with tears. His throat bobbed, and his voice was hoarse and inhuman: "No more news... what does that mean?!"

He suddenly looked up, his gaze piercing, fixed on the soldier's face: "Tell me! General Ghost Face... is he... not coming back?!"

"Is he... just like Qin Shubao...?"

As the last word fell, the air seemed to freeze.

"Thump!"

The soldier's knees buckled, and he knelt heavily on the ground, gritting his teeth and trembling as he said, "Your Majesty... this humble general... does not know!"

Li Shimin swayed, his eyes glazed over, and after a moment, he chuckled softly.

The laughter was shrill, a mixture of crying and laughter, sending chills down one's spine.

What good would it do to win?

This victory was stained with the blood of loyal souls and buried the bones of nameless heroes!

A Pyrrhic victory!

It was so tragic it was heartbreaking!