133: Chapter 133 I was right

On the city wall.

The wind was strong.

The gray sky pressed down low, the clouds hanging heavy like a sodden cloth, ready to fall at any moment.

Zhou Yun stood beside the crenel, his hands braced against the city wall.

It was not the posture of someone leaning against a railing to gaze into the distance, but the posture of someone who needed to brace himself just to stand steady.

His face was ashen, his lips cracked, and his eyes were bloodshot.

The sound of wheels rolling over the brick surface rang out behind him.

Lei Lie pushed Strategist Zhu Ge's wheelchair, slowly approaching.

Strategist Zhu Ge signaled to stop.

The wheelchair came to a halt two steps away from Zhou Yun's side.

Strategist Zhu Ge did not speak.

Lei Lie did not speak either.

The wind blew up from outside the city wall, pushing the robes and hair of the three men in the same direction.

A long time passed.

So long that Lei Lie felt as if time had stopped.

Zhou Yun's lips moved.

"If I had set out a few days earlier..."

The voice was very soft, like air leaking from his throat, not as if he were speaking to anyone, but rather asking himself.

"Would everything be different?"

He paused.

"If I had been faster..."

He paused again, for longer.

"Would the outcome have been different?"

Strategist Zhu Ge stared ahead, his gaze falling on the end of the gray skyline.

His voice was also very soft, as soft as Zhou Yun's, as if two people were conversing in a volume only they could hear.

"Earlier, and you could not have saved those destined to die."

"Faster, and you could not have stopped the blade destined to fall."

The wind scattered these two sentences.

Silence fell once more, heavier than before.

Lei Lie stood behind them, his fists clenched until his knuckles turned white.

He looked at Zhou Yun's back—that back, thinner than he had ever remembered—and felt as if his chest were blocked by something.

He could not hold back.

"City Lord..."

Zhou Yun turned his head.

Lei Lie's voice stuck in his throat.

Because Zhou Yun was smiling.

It was not a bitter smile, nor was it forced; it was just a very faint, very light smile.

The bloodshot eyes were still there, the ashen face was still there, the cracked lips were still there, but he was smiling.

"I am not wrong."

Three words.

After saying this, he turned and walked down from the city wall.

Beneath the gray sky, his figure moved further away, step by step.

The wind blew his robes against his body, outlining a thin, frail silhouette.

Lei Lie stood where he was, watching that back, unable to say a word.

Strategist Zhu Ge was watching too.

His fan rested on his knees, unmoving.

...

Somewhere far away.

On a vast wasteland, five hundred cavalrymen galloped under the moonlight.

The sound of hooves thudded dully against the cracked earth, and the dust kicked up was pulled by the night wind into a long, gray-white tail, dragging behind the troop.

Wang Shuai rode in the lead.

He suddenly pulled on the reins, though he did not slow down; he merely turned his head to glance back at the direction from which they had come.

On the distant skyline, nothing could be seen.

No firelight, no outline of the city wall, nothing at all.

But the corners of his mouth twitched.

"This time, Qing City has lost."

The voice was torn apart by the wind, but Old Dao, who was half a horse's length behind him, heard it clearly.

Wang Shuai withdrew his gaze and looked forward again, something burning in the depths of his eyes.

It was not sorrow, not regret, but a fire suppressed to the very bottom, not yet ignited.

"But I have not lost!"

He dug his spurs into the horse's belly.

"Giddyap!"

Old Dao was silent for a moment.

The wind poured into his collar, into that old scar running from his eyebrow to his chin, chilling him until it ached.

He did not know what had happened to Qing City, nor how those left in the city were faring.

Wang Shuai had only said, "The position of City Lord belongs to those with virtue; I will yield it to him for now, but I will return," and then led him and the five hundred men to set off overnight.

He hesitated for a moment...

"Giddyap!"

Old Dao spurred his horse and followed.

The five hundred cavalrymen vanished into the night.

...

A great fire broke out in Qing City.

It did not start from one place; it was ignited simultaneously from all four directions of the city.

Tongues of fire spread along the streets, licking the eaves, curling over doors and windows, and the wooden beams made crackling, splitting sounds in the high heat.

Thick smoke surged into the night sky, reflecting the firelight below, dyeing half the sky a dark red.

This was an order from Zhou Yun.

They could not be buried on the spot.

The black stone powder had permeated the water source and soil of Qing City; if the bodies were merely buried, the toxins would spread with the rainwater, poisoning this entire land.

Only fire.

Only by burning everything clean could the continued spread of the black stone powder be stopped.

On a high slope outside the city, Zhou Yun stood there, watching the firelight.

The wind blew from the direction of the city, carrying the smell of scorched matter and heatwaves, blowing his hair backward.

The firelight reflected on his face, flickering, making his expression difficult to see.

Lei Lie stood behind him, wanting to say something, opening his mouth, but making no sound.

Strategist Zhu Ge's wheelchair was parked a little further away, his fan resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on that sea of fire, unmoving.

Zhou Yun took the black city lord seal from his bosom.

The city lord seal of Qing City.

The one he had obtained from City Lord.

He lowered his head to look at it, his thumb gently rubbing against the face of the seal.

Then he raised his hand, pulling his entire arm back, and like throwing a javelin, he hurled the city lord seal with all his might toward the sea of fire.

The city lord seal tumbled a few times in the air, the firelight flashing on its surface, before it plunged into the sea of fire and disappeared.

Zhou Yun's arm hung down.

He stood there for a while longer, watching the fire.

Then he turned and left.

He did not look back.

...

Flower City.

The East City Gate.

Wan'er stood at the city gate, holding a stack of books in her arms, just as she had been when they set out.

Minister Wang Fugui stood beside her, his hands behind his back, his feet unusually still, not shifting his weight.

Iron Mountain stood on the other side with his arms crossed, his expression darker than usual.

They had been waiting for a long time.

On the distant horizon, a black line first appeared.

Then the black line widened and thickened, the sound of hooves and footsteps coming from afar, faintly at first, then closer and clearer.

The army had returned.

Wan'er's eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze passing over Zhou Yun in the lead, and landing on Lei Lie and Strategist Zhu Ge behind him.

Lei Lie rode on his horse, staring ahead, expressionless.

But his jawline was so tight that the contours of his masseter muscles were protruding.

Strategist Zhu Ge sat in his wheelchair, his fan resting on his knees.

Wan'er's gaze rested on their faces for less than a breath, then she withdrew it.

Her fingers tightened slightly on the cover of the books.

Her lips were just about to open—

"Wan'er!"

Zhou Yun's voice came from the front, filled with a smile.

He was riding on his horse, waving at the few people at the city gate, his smile clearly visible in the setting sun.

"Iron Mountain! Minister Wang! You are all here!"

He dismounted, his movements as agile as if nothing had happened, and strode toward them.

"Thank you for your hard work; nothing has happened in Flower City, has it?"

Wan'er looked at his smile, and her mouth closed.

All the words she had prepared were blocked in her throat the moment she saw that smile.

Minister Wang Fugui was stunned for a moment, subconsciously replying: "No... nothing happened, everything in the city is normal..."

"That's good."

Zhou Yun nodded with a smile, "Let's go, into the city."