Chapter 49: A Battle of Wills and the Unseen Hand

“The rules of the military camp apply to the mortal soldiers under your command,” Gu Chang’an’s voice grew increasingly frigid. “She is a member of my Qingyun Sect, my junior sister. Her safety is my sole responsibility, and it is not for a mere mortal like you to arrange.”

Hearing this, Tuoba Yanxue did not grow angry; instead, she let out a cold laugh.

“You responsible?” She sounded as if she had just heard the most ridiculous joke. “Where were you during the demon clan’s night raid just now? Did your barrier, your sword intent, protect her? If not for my soldiers fighting to the death, her body would be cold by now! Is *that* what you call responsibility?”

Each word struck like a dagger to the heart!

Gu Chang’an’s expression instantly turned incredibly grim.

This was indeed her oversight.

She had not anticipated the demon clan’s ferocity, nor had she expected Tuoba Yanxue to assign Shen Zhaoqing to the most perilous front-line logistics camp. By the time she noticed something was amiss and rushed over, the battle was already nearing its end.

This was a mistake she absolutely could not tolerate.

“Which is precisely why I must take her with me,” Gu Chang’an retorted, refusing to yield an inch. “From now on, she will remain by my side, never leaving it.”

“By your side?” Tuoba Yanxue scoffed, taking a step closer, her imposing aura undiminished. “And then what? Will you have her charge into battle with you, or will she merely be a spectator, potentially crushed by the residual shockwaves when you clash with the Demon King?”

“Gu Chang’an, abandon your self-righteous protection! You fundamentally misunderstand what true safety means on a battlefield!”

“True safety lies in absolute power,” Gu Chang’an’s voice was resolute. “That truth can never be wrong.”

“I may not comprehend your cultivators’ world-shaking abilities,” Tuoba Yanxue’s gaze suddenly sharpened like a blade. “But I understand this: here, at the Frost Iron Defense Line, my word is law! In my military camp, my people are *my* responsibility!”

She emphasized her point with a heavy pause, each word seemingly squeezed from between her teeth, carrying the resonance of metal and stone.

“She is a disciple of my Qingyun Sect, my junior sister!” Gu Chang’an’s patience finally snapped. Her Frostbright Sword let out a clear, ringing hum, as if poised to leap from its sheath at any moment.

Shen Zhaoqing felt as though she were suffocating.

“Um…” Shen Zhaoqing realized that if she didn’t speak up soon, she might be swept away by the aftermath of these two powerful auras. She tremblingly raised a hand, attempting to draw their attention. “Perhaps… you could ask me? Wouldn’t it be better if we sat down and discussed this calmly?”

Yet, their swords were already drawn.

“Gu Chang’an, I respect you as a powerful immortal and as an reinforcement for the Northern Border,” Tuoba Yanxue stated slowly, breaking the tense silence. “But if you insist on fighting within my main command tent, do not blame me for being impolite.”

As her words faded, a series of synchronized, grating clicks echoed from outside the tent.

It was the sound of Immortal-Binding Crossbows being drawn!

Scores of heavy military armaments, capable of posing a fatal threat to Nascent Soul cultivators, had silently locked onto the tent.

Gu Chang’an’s expression finally changed.

She could disregard Tuoba Yanxue, and even the tens of thousands of soldiers under her command.

However, the Immortal-Binding Crossbows, war weapons specifically developed by the Great Yan Dynasty, harnessing the nation’s full power to counteract cultivators, were not something even she dared to easily confront.

More importantly, initiating hostilities would mean a complete rupture between the Qingyun Sect and the Yan State of the Northern Border. This was a responsibility she could not bear.

Tuoba Yanxue had accurately predicted this.

Gu Chang’an gazed deeply at Tuoba Yanxue, then shifted her eyes to Shen Zhaoqing, who was trembling in the corner. The icy coldness in her gaze instantly melted, transforming into a complex, unreadable sorrow and a hint of undeniable possessiveness.

“Junior sister,” she whispered, her voice hoarse as never before. “Wait for me.”

With that, she did not linger, turning into a streak of azure light and vanishing from outside the tent.

The clicking sounds from outside the tent subsided.

A conflict capable of shaking the entire Northern Border’s war situation was thus silently averted.

Inside the tent, a profound silence returned.

Shen Zhaoqing let out a long sigh. Turning her head, she met Tuoba Yanxue’s phoenix eyes, as deep as ancient wells.

The iron-blooded general had, at some point, moved behind her, now looking down at her from above.

“From today onward, you will live here,” Tuoba Yanxue pointed to the simple field cot in the corner. “You are not permitted to step outside this tent without my permission.”

Great.

Just out of the ice cellar, and now into an iron cage.

Her life was truly taking a turn for the worse.

“It’s too dangerous outside. Don’t overthink it; I’m just ensuring your safety,” Tuoba Yanxue seemed quite pleased with Shen Zhaoqing’s resigned demeanor, offering a rare explanation. She turned and walked back to her desk, carefully retrieving something from her robes.

It was a broken wolf’s tooth, covered in fine cracks and meticulously wrapped with red string.

Tuoba Yanxue sat there, by the dim oil lamp, and repeatedly polished the broken wolf’s tooth with a clean, soft cloth.

Her movements were slow and focused. The only sounds in the tent were the soft ‘shush’ of her polishing the wolf’s tooth and Shen Zhaoqing’s own clearly audible heartbeat.

Shen Zhaoqing sat in the corner, unable to comprehend why this decisive female general had suddenly developed such an intense obsession with her.

****

Unlike the ice and snow-laden, qi-shrouded Frost Iron Defense Line of the Northern Border, Qingzhou was currently enveloped in a gentle twilight.

Misty rain veiled the deep alleys.

A shop named ‘Forgetful Study’ sat quietly at the very end of an alley. Its signboard was so old the paint was peeling, and on ordinary days, not even a stray cat bothered to pass its entrance.

Inside the study, a woman in a sky-blue robe sat by the window.

Yan Wusheng was the proprietor of this bookstore.

The woman’s features were as exquisite as a painting, her temperament cool and detached, like a splash-ink landscape—serene and profound. On the small table before her, a pot of clear tea warmed, its fragrant steam mingling with the scent of countless books, creating a tranquility that seemed to slow time itself.

Her fair, slender fingertips gently tapped a bronze auxiliary plate, no larger than a palm, shaped like a tortoise shell. On its surface, countless star-like threads, as fine as silk, crisscrossed, outlining a dynamic sand table.

At the center of the sand table, a soft, gentle, pale golden light—representing ‘vitality’—was now firmly trapped between two distinct, equally powerful, and domineering auras.

“Tsk.”

Yan Wusheng picked up her teacup, taking a delicate sip. A faint, slightly playful smile graced her lips.

“One with a clouded sword heart, the other with an obsession ingrained to the bone… for a mere Qi Condensation Realm cultivator, they can confront each other to such an extent.”

“This is truly more captivating than anything written in storybooks.”

She saw it all with perfect clarity.

“Gu Chang’an, oh Gu Chang’an, your Supreme Forgetfulness Sword Art has truly been cultivated in vain. Your sword may be sharp, but its sheath already bears cracks.”

“And Tuoba Yanxue, mortal emotions are indeed the most interesting and most irrational things in this world.”

Her tone was placid, like a chess player analyzing a game, commenting on an opponent’s brilliant moves and blunders.

As for the ‘chess piece’ being fought over, powerless to decide its own fate…

Yan Wusheng’s gaze fell upon the golden light representing Shen Zhaoqing, a hint of almost creator-like scrutiny and slight dissatisfaction in her eyes.

“Still too weak, and too lazy.”

“Only hiding, only fleeing, only passively waiting for others to break your shackles.”

She set down her teacup, the bottom clinking softly against the table.

The time was almost right.

The observation phase was over. If she allowed this to continue, this crucial chess piece might truly be nurtured into a pampered canary by those overly possessive women.

That was not the script she wished to see.