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

Han Ye subconsciously reached for the Azure Dragon Spear.

But his hand grasped at empty air.

The gun is gone.

He raised the corners of his mouth slightly and actually laughed, a laugh that was both stern and arrogant.

He drew the long, black arrow from behind his back, its tip reflecting the moonlight, cold as frost and snow.

"Since we have no guns... let's use arrows instead!"

His eyes turned cold, and he roared, "Kill—!"

Instead of retreating, he advanced, riding alone like a bolt of crimson lightning, charging fiercely into the enemy ranks!

Blood gushed out on his body, his armor shattered, and his battle robe was stained dark red, yet he continued to kill!

Charge! Slash! Thrust! Thrust!

Even if his bones were about to break and his strength was about to be exhausted, he would tear a bloody path through!

Only by fighting our way out can we return alive!

War has never stopped.

Meanwhile, in Chang'an, Li Shimin, with a white cloth wrapped around his head, personally supported the coffin and led officials and common people in a grand procession to welcome the spirit back to the capital.

The whole city rejoiced, and all the people celebrated together.

No one knew that in the desolate snowfields thousands of miles away, the man known as the "Ghost-Faced General" was being besieged by tens of thousands of Turkic cavalry, breaking through the encirclement time and time again, covered in blood, like a lone wolf walking in a desperate situation.

Finally, he broke through the enemy lines and returned alone.

The banks of the Wei River were deserted.

The army had long since withdrawn, leaving only the cold wind swirling through the withered grass, howling as if in mourning.

Han Ye gazed at the brightly lit Chang'an on the opposite bank, remained silent for a moment, then spurred his horse, Red Hare neighed, and galloped towards the city that belonged to him.

Chang'an remains immersed in revelry.

News of the great victory at the Wei River spread throughout the streets and alleys, and the people sang and danced, the taverns were packed, and the sound of gongs and drums filled the air.

What gets people's blood pumping the most is—

The masked general who should have died on the battlefield has actually returned alive!

He single-handedly killed Jieli Khan and turned the tide of battle!

Legendary! This is a true legend!

In Li Jing's residence, Xiao Tuan was humming a little tune while sweeping the courtyard.

Her eyes crinkled with laughter, her heart bubbling with sweetness: "Young Master, this time you're back, you'll at least be promoted to a high-ranking position, right? Then, will I finally get to wear a new dress?"

As he thought about it, his mouth stretched almost to his ears in a wide grin.

But just then—

"Bang!"

A dark shadow crashed heavily at her feet.

Tall, bloodstained, his cloak tattered, his face covered by that chilling ghost mask.

The person was unconscious and breathing very weakly.

Xiao Tuan's face turned deathly pale instantly, and a scream ripped through the night: "Young Master—!!"

Three days later.

Li Shimin led his army back to Chang'an, and scouts had already rushed into the city with the news.

Crown Prince Li Chengqian personally led all the officials to go ten miles outside the city to welcome him!

Not only that—the entire population of Chang'an surged out of the city like a tide, spontaneously kneeling and waiting by the roadside, eagerly anticipating their arrival!

They were waiting for the triumphant emperor!

He is the legendary Ghost-Faced General, who wore a ghost mask, wielded the Green Dragon Spear, and won the battle on the banks of the Wei River!

They were the iron-blooded soldiers of the Tang Dynasty who returned victorious from their bloody battles!

Smoke and dust rose in the distance, and blurry figures appeared on the horizon.

The crowd erupted in cheers, a deafening roar.

"Great Tang! Victory!"

"Great Tang! Victory!"

"Great Tang! Victory!"

The roar surged and soared into the sky, making even the setting sun on the horizon appear even redder.

Even the usually composed Crown Prince Li Chengqian couldn't suppress his wildly beating heart and his fingertips trembled slightly.

He gazed into the distance, his eyes burning with light: "I... am finally about to meet the Ghost-Faced General!"

He muttered to himself, as if speaking to someone else, yet also as if talking to himself: "If I were to become his disciple, would Father... allow it?"

"Ah, General Ghost Face is the god of war in my heart... This time, I will definitely recommend him to the emperor and make him the most glorious!"

He smiled like a young boy, his eyes full of passion and longing.

But just then—

The wind has died down.

The dust has stopped.

There was no thunder of horses' hooves, no deafening bugle calls, no triumphant roar of soldiers returning home.

Only silent footsteps, heavy as lead, rolled across the earth step by step.

Li Chengqian's smile froze.

He squinted, looking at the approaching procession, and his heart sank.

Li Junxian, who had been standing behind him with a smile, suddenly turned ashen-faced and uttered a hoarse, low growl: "Your Highness... something's wrong!"

Something's really wrong!

This battle should have been a resounding victory!

Even from ten miles away, one should be able to hear the thunder of iron cavalry and the deafening sound of war drums!

But now?

A deathly silence fell, broken only by the sound of footsteps, which tolled like a death knell in everyone's hearts.

As the procession finally drew near—

Everyone's pupils constricted sharply, and their breath caught in their throats!

Li Shimin walked at the very front, carrying a long pole on his shoulder, and personally carried the coffin!

The black lacquered coffin was as heavy as a mountain, pressing down on his shoulders and on the very heart of the entire city of Chang'an.

Buried in the coffin—General Qin Shubao, who died a martyr for his country!

Behind this coffin, instead of fluttering banners and triumphant songs, stood dozens of stretchers wrapped in white cloth, lined up in rows, stretching out like frost and snow covering the ground.

The ground was covered with corpses, all of them were ghost-faced soldiers, soldiers of the Great Tang Dynasty!

Some were even incomplete, with broken arms and shattered blades still held in their hands; some faces were buried by yellow sand, making them unrecognizable.

This is hardly a triumph.

This is the pain of bringing back our lost land, and the word "victory" built with blood and flesh!

Even more suffocating is—

That masked general who should have stood before ten thousand troops, his face covered by a demonic mask, his Green Dragon Spear felling the enemy chieftain...

What about others?

Vanished without a trace!

Strangely, a long spear lay horizontally on top of Qin Shubao's coffin lid—

The cold gleam had not faded, the bloodstains were not yet dry, and dragon patterns were wrapped around it. It was none other than the Ghost-Faced General's personal weapon: the Azure Dragon Spear!

It lay quietly on the coffin, as if in mourning, or perhaps in protest.

The entire room fell silent.

The people who had just been shouting "Victory!" now had tight throats, bloodshot eyes, and trembling lips, unable to utter a sound.

The officials bowed their heads, the princes held their breath, and not even the wind dared to stir their robes.

Li Shimin's eyes were slightly red, and his voice was hoarse yet clear as a knife: "Fuji, read it."

Changsun Wuji stepped forward, holding the imperial edict, his voice booming like tearing silk:

"The Battle of Wei River is over."

His Majesty has decreed—although this battle was won, it was a Pyrrhic victory!

"Displaced people lay piled up everywhere, and corpses littered the fields!"

"The veteran general Qin Qiong, his blood stained the yellow sands, sacrificed his life for his country!"

"The Ghost-Faced General led his troops to cover the retreat, but was surrounded and attacked by the Turkic army. He broke through the encirclement and disappeared without a trace; his fate is unknown!"

"Our elite troops have suffered more than half their losses, and our generals are returning to the capital wounded!"

"The pain of this battle is a disgrace to the Tang Dynasty! The depth of this hatred should be etched into our bones and never forgotten!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the world fell silent.

With a loud "boom," it felt as if someone had smashed a hammer into everyone's hearts!

The Ghost-Faced General... his fate unknown?!

That war god who fought his way out of a desperate situation, that masked general who single-handedly suppressed a thousand troops...

He was chased and his whereabouts are unknown?!

Countless people knelt down and wept bitterly.

The soldiers bit their lips until they bled, their nails dug into their palms, and they felt no pain despite the blood streaming down their faces.

Li Chengqian staggered, his face deathly pale, and roared hoarsely, "What did you say?! He...is dead?!"

No one answered him.

Only the wind whips up the white banners, making them flutter and rustle, like the whispers of departed souls.

Li Junxian looked at him, sighed softly, and her eyes were full of pity.

he knows--

The unshakeable war god in the crown prince's heart is now crumbling.

Now, news has come that his fate is unknown—or, to put it more politely, "his fate is unknown." But how could a dignified Ghost-Faced General possibly return alive after falling into the heart of the Turkic lands, where yellow sands swirl and wolves howl?

That's wishful thinking!

Crown Prince Li Chengqian clenched his fists so tightly that his nails almost dug into his palms.

He didn't want to believe it, and he dared not believe it.

At the same moment.

Changsun Wuji's voice still echoed in the hall. Li Shimin slowly rose, his voice hoarse as if a whetstone had been used to sharpen an iron blade: "Everyone, follow me to respectfully bid farewell to the old general—Qin Shubao!"

"Respectfully bidding farewell to General Ghost Face!"

"Tap! Tap! Tap!"

The heavy footsteps pounded on the bluestone slabs, each sound like a knock on the deepest part of one's heart.

Li Shimin personally supported the coffin and led the officials step by step toward Chang'an.

The journey takes about ten miles.

Outside Chang'an City, the city was already filled with kneeling people, men, women, and children, all with red eyes and tears silently streaming down their faces.

Some choked back sobs, others bit their lips to hold back, but their shouts echoed like thunder across the land—

"Respectfully bidding farewell to the old general!"

"Respectfully bidding farewell to General Ghost Face!"

The sounds echoed in layers, spreading from the city gates all the way to the palace walls, as if the entire city of Chang'an was bidding farewell to a hero.

On the banks of the Wei River, the fighting has ceased.

The whole country should have been celebrating, but everyone felt as if a huge boulder was pressing down on their hearts.

Did we win? Yes, we won.

But this was a victory won with lives at stake, a Pyrrhic victory stained with blood on the yellow sand!

Joy was tinged with sorrow, celebration with grief.

This battle also completely severed the last vestige of reconciliation between the Tang Dynasty and the Turks—from then on, they were irreconcilable enemies!

"Han Ye..."

In the midst of the army, Li Yingge suddenly gripped the reins tightly, her eyes burning brightly like starlight.

She could no longer contain herself and just wanted to rush back home immediately.

She wanted to see for herself whether the man, always dressed in black and taciturn, was sitting in the courtyard, slowly and deliberately wiping his knife.

Li Shimin led his army slowly back to the city.

When the sight of him with a white cloth wrapped around his head and carrying the coffin himself came into view of the people of Chang'an, countless people knelt down on the spot, tears streaming down their faces.

Only after he revealed the truth about the Battle of Wei River did the whole city realize the truth—

It turns out that that battle was not a decisive victory at all!

It's like walking a tightrope on the edge of a cliff; a slight misstep could lead to the collapse of the entire landscape!

If it weren't for that legendary masked general who fought his way through thousands of troops; if it weren't for him single-handedly taking down the enemy chieftain and personally beheading the Khagan of Jieli...

The Tang Dynasty might be the one to lose!

Even so, this victory was achieved at the cost of countless soldiers' lives.

It was extremely tragic.

The people gazed at the dark coffin and wept uncontrollably.

"The old general...is gone..."

"The Ghost-Faced General... I'm afraid he won't be coming back..."

"Heaven is blind! Why must such a hero perish in a foreign land!"

Throughout Chang'an, cries of weeping filled the air and wails echoed across the land.

Some people cried out loud, while many others simply shed tears silently, letting the wind dry the wetness on their faces.

Not long after.

Li Shimin arrived at the city gate, paused, and slowly said, "Fuji, issue the order—General Qin Shubao shall be buried in the imperial mausoleum and given a state funeral!"

boom!

These words shocked the entire court.

Changsun Wuji's pupils contracted, and he almost lost his speech.

Imperial mausoleum? That's the resting place of the imperial family! Now His Majesty is going to break with tradition and bury a military general there?

What an honor!

But before he could think about it further, an even bigger question arose in his mind—

What about the Ghost-Faced General?

He frowned and stepped forward, asking in a low voice, "Your Majesty, what should be done with the remains of the Ghost-Faced General and the Ghost-Faced soldiers?"

Li Shimin's eyes were bloodshot, and his voice was low and hoarse, almost broken: "The rest of the soldiers will be buried in a separate mausoleum with great honors."