A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

On the tenth day of Fang Zhaoru's westward journey, the shadow of the large group of people finally appeared on the horizon of Yangguan.

The sentry's horn did not sound.

On the wall, Huo Qingluan leaned against the cold battlements, squinting at the swirling yellow sand.

Two captains stood behind her, not daring to utter a sound.

She received the document from the capital three days ago; every word on it looked as if it had been carved with a knife.

Fang Zhaoru, Pacification Commissioner of the Western Regions.

The White Wolf tribe returned west, passing through Yangguan Pass.

Neither of these two matters is something Yangguan can easily handle.

The former represents the face of the imperial court, while the latter is a sword hanging over the sun.

"Open the door." Huo Qingluan's voice was calm, as if she were giving an order for something very ordinary.

The captain beside him hesitated for a moment: "General, shouldn't we wait for them to submit their documents and verify their identities?"

"Their numbers have already been reported from the capital. His Majesty has already met with their leader in the Hall of Supreme Harmony."

Huo Qingluan did not turn around; her gaze remained fixed on the approaching group.

"Now, we are the hosts, and they are the guests. There's no reason to make the guests wait outside."

She knew perfectly well that Wei Zhao's move was intended for both the White Wolf tribe and her.

Yangguan in Xinwu is no longer the isolated border town that needed to be defended to the death.

It is now a door.

It can be turned on or off.

When and how it will open will be determined by Xinwu.

The heavy door creaked open and slowly began to open inwards.

Kinler's group stopped just before the gates closed.

Two hundred White Wolf knights sat quietly on their horses, as silent as a forest.

The murderous aura honed from the mountains of corpses and seas of blood made the defenders on the city wall feel oppressed, even from a hundred paces away.

In the middle of the procession, the blue cloth carriage looked out of place.

Instead of riding his tall camel, Kinler rode a black warhorse.

He looked up at the plain-colored figure on the city wall, said nothing, and simply urged his horse to slowly enter the pass.

Huo Qingluan did not hold any welcoming ceremony.

She simply had a large, clean camp area cleared out on the west side of the pass.

Outside the camp, there were guards every three steps and sentries every five steps. The Imperial Guard taxi drivers stood with their hands on their swords, their eyes alert, but they made no provocative moves.

In the camp, clean water and fodder had already been prepared, and there were even several large baskets of dry rations that had just been transported from inside the Great Wall.

This is etiquette, and also a rule.

The White Wolf Knights dismounted and led their horses into the camp in an orderly fashion, without a sound.

They glanced at the mountains of hay and dry rations, their faces expressionless, showing neither gratitude nor disdain.

Huo Qingluan stood on the city wall, taking in all of this.

The tension in her heart eased slightly.

This team was more disciplined than she had imagined.

Kinler, who could keep two hundred unruly knights in check, was no ordinary man.

She didn't go to see Kinler, nor did she look at the knights.

Her gaze fell on the blue cloth carriage.

The carriage curtain moved slightly, and an old hand reached out to support the carriage shaft. A thin figure slowly stepped down.

Fang Zhaoru.

The old man looked up at the bright sky and let out a long breath.

The breath dissipated in the dry air, as if carrying away the dust that had accumulated on his body over the years.

On the second night after the group stopped at Yangguan, the moonlight was as clear as water.

Fang Zhaoru walked out of the camp alone.

The Imperial Guard soldiers saw him but did not stop him; they simply followed him silently a dozen paces away.

He walked slowly along the inside of the gate wall.

He hadn't been to Yangguan for over a decade.

Every brick here seems to still hold memories of the past.

He walked to a corner, stopped, and reached out to touch a deep black mark on the wall.

It was an arrow mark; the arrowhead was long gone, but the scar left on the bricks was clearly visible in the moonlight.

He remembered that when he finished drawing that picture and fled back to the Central Plains from the Western Regions, he also passed through this Yangguan Pass.

At that time, he was just a painter struggling to make a living, and all he could think about was how to turn what he had into silver so that he could buy a house in the Central Plains and live a peaceful life.

He never imagined that what he was taking away was the journey home of a tribe spanning three hundred years.

A very light footstep sound came from behind.

Fang Zhaoru did not turn around.

In the entire Yangguan region, besides that female general, there was no one else who could silently walk up behind him in the dead of night.

Huo Qingluan stopped beside him, her body radiating the chill of the night.

She followed the old man's gaze and looked at the arrow mark.

"Sir, how have you gotten used to the journey?"

Fang Zhaoru withdrew his hand, his voice a little hoarse: "Whether you're used to it or not, you have to keep going. I owe them a place, and I have to finish the journey."

Huo Qingluan remained silent.

She knew nothing about the landscape painting, nor about the events of the past three hundred years.

All she knew was that the old man before her was representing the Xinwu Dynasty as the "Western Regions Pacification Envoy," embarking on this journey westward.

His safety is a matter of pride for Xinwu.

"His Majesty asked me to convey a message to you."

Huo Qingluan gazed at the distant outline of the Gobi Desert, her voice exceptionally clear in the night wind.

She paused, then said, word by word, "If you've come to the end of your journey and still wish to return, the gates of Yangguan will always be open for you."

Fang Zhaoru's body seemed to stiffen for a moment.

He didn't answer, nor did he turn around.

He simply reached out again and gently touched the brick with arrow marks embedded in it.

The gesture was like saying goodbye, or like touching an old friend.

Then he turned around and walked toward the camp.

His steps remained slow, his shadow stretched long in the moonlight, making it impossible to tell whether he was relaxed or even more burdened.

As Huo Qingluan watched his figure disappear into the dim light of the camp, she suddenly understood something.

His Majesty's words were not meant for Fang Zhaoru alone.

This was also said to the White Wolf tribe, and to the entire Western Regions.

Xinwu can return the road to you, or he can send people to you.

But the gate to Shinbu will always be here. Whether you stay or leave, whether you are friend or foe, the choice is in your own hands.

On the morning of the third day, just as dawn broke.

Kinler's troops then began to assemble.

Without any urging or commotion, the two hundred knights were ready to go within half an hour.

The west gate of Yangguan was opened for them.

Huo Qingluan remained standing on the city wall, watching the procession slowly drive out of the pass.

Fang Zhaoru's blue cloth carriage was placed in the very center of the procession, like a soft heart encased in a hard shell.

The group headed west and gradually disappeared into a vast, desolate Gobi Desert.

Huo Qingluan stood on the city wall for a long time, until the last wisp of dust on the horizon had settled, before turning to the captain beside her and saying:

"Send a scout team to follow fifty li to the west."

The captain clasped his hands in a fist salute and accepted the order: "General, is it surveillance?"

"No."

Huo Qingluan shook her head: "It's confirmed. Confirmed they didn't turn back or split up their forces. Tell them to come back after fifty miles."

She knew very well that someone like Jinle, once he agreed to go, wouldn't try anything funny along the way.

But rules are rules.

Yangguan is the western gateway to Xinwu, and she must know the movements of every team that leaves from here.

The captain accepted the order and left.

Huo Qingluan stood on the city wall for a while longer, the wind from beyond the Great Wall blowing the hem of her plain-colored dress, making it flutter.

She knew that this road was truly open again starting today.

But once the road is open, whether it will bring peace or more trouble, no one can say for sure.

All she can do is guard this pass.

Whether it's a caravan or enemies coming from the west.