King of Hundred Victories Saber

The spring wind of Ningxia carries the salty grains over the wilderness, making the eaves of the wooden houses of the Northwest Salt Gang rustle.

Xue Qiuchun leans by the window, gazing at the white waves rolling over the salt fields, as if she is in a frozen sea of snow.

Inside the room, it is filled with her carefully tended potted plants; the fallen petals of red plum are scattered along the rim of the blue porcelain pots, while the newly sprouted Lu Luo vines have quietly climbed up the carved window lattices, sketching interwoven lines amidst the play of light and shadow.

She gently strokes the warm jade token in her palm, the character ”Xia” glows faintly in the sunlight, it is the last warmth before Shi Feiyang left.

Last winter, his cloak swept over the snow-covered salt field, and the moment the Celestial Frost Blade killed the assassin, she knew she couldn’t tear her gaze away. ”If Miss Xue faces difficulties, you can come to Jiangnan anytime to find me.” As he slipped the jade token into her hand, the thin calluses on his fingertips brushed her palm, and even now, thinking of it still makes her heart pound like a drum.

”Miss, it’s time to change the medicine.” The maid’s voice came from behind.

Only then did Xue Qiuchun realize she had been standing by the window for quite some time, her skirt already dampened by the salt field’s humidity. She lowered her gaze to her wrist, looking at the wound—a scar left from the arrow she took to protect Shi Feiyang, though it has long healed, it remains a mark of her longing.

In the deep night, the salt field’s wind grew harsher, howling and crashing against the wooden house.

Xue Qiuchun curled up on the embroidered couch holding the jade token, listening to the distant sound of the salt workers’ clappers, slipping back into that snowy night.

Shi Feiyang held her close while avoiding pursuit, his warmth permeating through the cold garments: ”Don’t be afraid, I’m here.” Now, on the deserted embroidered couch, only moonlight drapes her in a veil of coolness.

In the morning the next day, she suddenly threw open the brocade quilt, the jade token reflecting a resolute glimmer in the morning light.

Xue Qiuchun looked at her pale but determined face in the mirror, murmuring softly, ”Feiyang, you said you would always help me no matter what... All I want now is for you to look at me.”

She traced her fingers across the reflection in the mirror, as though she could touch the tenderness in his brows and eyes.

She donned a fur coat and walked to the salt field, the early spring sun shining upon the boundless salt flats, blindingly white.

Xue Qiuchun allowed the wind to mess up her black hair, pressing the jade token to her chest, muttering, ”No matter how vast this salt field is, it can’t hold me anymore. The spring in Jiangnan should bring apricot blossoms and misty rain, would you suddenly think of me one morning?”

In the distance, the salt field’s windmill creaked and turned, stirring up a sky full of salt mist, blurring her eyes growing moist.

The northerly wind swept across the Golden Summit Tent along with the howling of wolves, Yili leaned on the carved arrow head, the silver wolf head ornaments rattling with the crimson cloak.

This Queen of the Naiman gazed towards the southern horizon, her eyes filled with boundless longing akin to the grasslands, but the longsword at her waist gleamed with chilling light: ”If it weren’t for guarding the territory he forged with his sword, I would ride to Jiangnan and slay those who dare hinder his return, turning them into mince meat.” Lin Wanqing lightly rested against the vermilion lacquered corridor, pressed the silk handkerchief embroidered with twin lotus against her raised belly.

This woman who came from Liaodong Changsheng Castle, though stained with some valiant air from the grassland winds, still held gentleness and kindness in her eyes: ”Sister, don’t be anxious, my husband said before he left, once the rebellion in Bozhou is quelled, he will take us to row a boat on West Lake.”

Her fingertips gently stroked the satin skirt hem, ”I have already prepared the Su embroidery boat cover, just waiting for his return.”

Gong Simeng slouched in the tiger fur chair, her fiery red skirt trails like burning flames across the bluestone.

She teased the infant in her arms, silver bell-like laughter startled the Hai Dongqing under the eaves, ”Look at this little rascal, when grabbing objects, he ignores everything else but snatches his father’s tiger talisman.” Suddenly her smile fades, fingers brushing the falchion, ”When that heartless man returns, I must have him teach our son how to take enemies’ heads amidst the armies!”

Miaojiang beauty Bai Zhi, dressed in dark sturdy attire, the spiked silver staff at her waist exudes a cold glint. This heroine who once traversed Bozhou Jianghu, now affixing a sprig of white cloud grass in her hair: ”Recently during sword testing, the newly cast ’Jinghong’ moaned under the moon.”

She fondles the engravings on the sword sheath, ”I engrave a sword cut on the city wall every day, waiting until a thousand marks are complete, then I must stand side by side with him again, killing through the enemy ranks seven times!”

Liu Guihua, possessing a touch of banditry yet beautiful like a Celestial Immortal, came quickly carrying a steaming food box, with the coarse cloth skirt edge stained with grass debris, yet a simple smile on her face: ”Quickly try the newly baked flatbread, I specially added Central Plains’ osmanthus honey.”

She stuffed the snacks into the hands of the others, ”Even the mightiest heroes need to be well-fed, I offer sacrifices to the Kitchen God in front of the stove, daily beseeching him to ensure my husband’s safety.” The five young women stood side by side together, the dusk on the grassland drawing their shadows long.

Yili suddenly drew her long sword, etching a wolf totem onto the bluestone, ”My husband said, we are his soft spot, yet also his armor.”

Sparks flew where the blade went, ”When he returns, every gust of wind on this grassland must sing for our reunion!”

The late spring Helan Mountain Range was clad in a blue-gray mist, remnant snow fell from the cliffs, resembling the shattered worries of Guo Xiangyu.

She leaned by the rock window of Qin Stone Cave, finger repeatedly stroking the pleats of the pigeon message scroll, the seven characters ”Shi Feiyang has arrived in Ningxia” blurred by teardrops, yet burning desire in her eyes.

”Little Xiong!” She abruptly turned, the jade flute slipped from her waist, striking the stone floor with a clear sound.

The scholar’s attendant Shi Xiong stood stiff at the doorway, holding a cloak—Miss Guo’s bun was crooked, clothes half-open, clearly in a hurried state.

Outside the cave, cold crows took flight, amidst the fluttering wing sounds, Guo Xiangyu had already grasped the reins rushing out of the cave.

Inside the Ningxia Sub-Branch of the Heroic Sakura Association, the bronze tea cup in Liao Pei’s hand exploded with a bang, ”Outrageous!” He stared at the urgent confidential report flying outside the window, beard trembling in anger, ”The White Bone Sect set up the Nine Netherworld Fire Array in Lupan Mountain, if Guo Xiangyu insists on heading north, she’s plainly entering a den of tigers as a sheep!”

Before the words fell, Wu Zhong had already picked up the Profound Iron Hand Guards, and Xiao Lingling’s Dual Blades were already drawn three inches out of the sheath.