Chapter 39: In Control

The young general of the Li family exploded in rage. No longer calling upon his dragon, he snatched a sword from the nearby commander and swung it straight down toward Yang Xiu’s head!

Yang Xiu sat motionless, neither dodging nor flinching. A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth—utter contempt, dripping with mockery.

“Li Pinghai, step back.” A woman’s voice cut through the air.

Li Pinghai seethed. Why now? Who dared stop him when this man had nearly defiled their family name right under their own roof?

“Step back!” The voice sharpened like a blade.

Li Pinghai froze. For no reason he could fathom, his entire body trembled. His grip on the sword slipped. It clattered to the floor.

He stared, stunned, toward the side door of the hall. There she stood—silent, statuesque, a woman whose presence alone seemed to command the very air. Her every breath felt like a spell.

That voice—the one that had paralyzed him, that had made his bones ache with dread—had come from her.

“Li Yunzi?”

Li Pinghai barely recognized her. How could one sentence send chills racing down his spine?

“Keep him alive,” Li Yunzi said calmly. “I need him to deliver a message to Ling Luotian.”

She walked forward into the grand hall, uninvited, yet utterly at home. She wore a lightweight armor that hugged her frame like a second skin—sleek, sharp, revealing both strength and grace. Her long black hair was pulled into a tight knot, her brows sharp as swords, eyes bright and piercing. No makeup. No adornment. In this solemn chamber filled with festive banners and red-draped guards, she looked like a warrior stepping off the battlefield—not a bride-to-be, not a noblewoman, but a general returning from war.

In truth, she’d worn this look before—when she still held the title of Female Sovereign. But that was then. Now, she was no longer ruler. And today was the day the Lingxiao wedding procession arrived.

“Your Excellency, Yang Xiu greets you,” Yang Xiu said, rising from his seat and bowing deeply.

After the bow, he didn’t glance once at the furious young general. Instead, his gaze locked onto Li Yunzi.

“Still the same familiar face, my dear Female Sovereign. If you enjoy this look so much, I’m sure our city lord would prefer it even more… oh, wait—did I forget to mention? The terms for ceding the four cities are non-negotiable. You’ll be arriving at the Ling Family residence in Lingxiao City on time. Otherwise, peace talks are out of the question.”

With that, he let out a grotesque chuckle—mocking, vulgar, laced with venom.

“Mr. Yang Xiu,” Li Yunzi said, standing firm in the center of the hall, “I have a gift for you. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to accept it on behalf of your lord?”

“Ah, Your Highness,” Yang Xiu bowed again, grinning. “Save your charms for the wedding night with our lord. I wouldn’t dare take such a present.”

Li Yunzi ignored his taunt. She gave a subtle nod to Cheng, the commanding general.

Cheng lifted his hand and slammed it down hard.

The sound echoed through the hall. Instantly, a dozen soldiers marched in, each carrying a bundle wrapped in black cloth. They lined up before Yang Xiu and placed the bundles at his feet—neatly arranged, silent, ominous.

Yang Xiu frowned. What was this? He couldn’t tell what lay beneath the fabric.

“Unwrap them,” Li Yunzi said coolly. “See if any of the faces are familiar.”

Yang Xiu snapped orders to his two attendants. One by one, they tore open the cloths.

The first revealed tangled hair. Then a head—its skin stained dark with dried blood.

Yang Xiu paled instantly.

“Keep going!” he gasped, his breath catching.

Growing impatient, he ripped the cloth himself.

Inside—more heads. Dozens of them.

The stench flooded the hall—thick, metallic, rotting. Some of the younger women, unused to war, turned pale, clutching their mouths, ready to scream and flee.

Yang Xiu kept tearing. His hands shook violently.

Each head—he knew them all.

Just days ago, he’d shared wine with each of them. Their heads were still attached. Now, they were piled here, wrapped in filthy rags, rolling slightly when touched.

Their faces—familiar. Too familiar.

They weren’t supposed to be here. They were meant to be charging through the western gorges, breaking into the Four Western Cities of Zulong!

Why were they all dead? Why only heads?

His hands were soaked in blood. When he finally looked up at Li Yunzi, there was no smirk left—only terror.

She’d killed them all.

She’d slaughtered every soldier sent to raid the western cities. She’d taken their heads—and brought them here.

All those talk of “raising demands,” “changing plans”—none of it mattered.

If Li Yunzi hadn’t seen through their scheme, they’d already be in control of the west.

But now…

Her men had found them. And they’d been wiped out.

“Commander Cheng,” Li Ying asked, confused. “Who are these?”

“These were elite troops from Lingxiao City,” Cheng replied. “While we were distracted by the peace negotiations, they slipped through the gorge. They planned to breach our border defenses. But our scouts—former subordinates of the Female Sovereign—had been watching the passes. We intercepted them in the canyon and eliminated them all.”

“Former subordinates?” Li Ying whispered.

“The Female Sovereign’s own guard,” Cheng said. “We gathered them from various units, following her orders to search for enemy infiltrators. We found them. And we destroyed them.”

“Her guard?” Yang Xiu choked out, collapsing to the ground as if struck by lightning.

The entire Li family froze. Cold sweat broke across their brows.

Lingxiao had already invaded?

While they hung lanterns and celebrated, while they believed the marriage alliance was genuine—Lingxiao had launched a full-scale assault on their western cities?

Four cities lost. All because Li Yunzi’s spies had uncovered the plot.

The blood on the heads was dry. Old. Long cold.

“You—*you* will burn in hell!” Yang Xiu screamed, wild-eyed. “Li Yunzi, you witch! May you rot!”

“Stop pretending to be mad,” Li Yunzi said, icy calm. “I’m sparing your life.”

Yang Xiu’s expression shifted instantly—from fury to abject submission. He crawled toward her, pounding his forehead against the stone floor.

“I’ve always heard the Female Sovereign speaks with finality! Thank you, Your Highness! Thank you for sparing me! Thank you!”

This man—so polished one moment, so savage the next, now broken, crawling like a dog.

“Did you find the one you were most afraid of?” Li Yunzi asked, looking down at him from above.

“Yes… yes…” Yang Xiu trembled. He felt exposed, hollow. Every secret laid bare.

“Your Lord’s eldest son is still alive,” Li Yunzi said. “That is the message I want you to carry to Ling Luotian.”

Yang Xiu slowly raised his head, disbelief etched across his face.

Alive?

The heir of the Ling family—still alive?

No general, no battle plan, no strategy could compare to the weight of that single life. He was the future leader of Lingxiao City. The master had cherished him, entrusted him with this raid—meant to make him a hero, conquer Zulong, earn glory.

And now? This.

“Then I’ll sign the treaty now! Right now! No conditions! I swear—I’ll never mock you again!” Yang Xiu scrambled on the floor, searching frantically for the peace document. He found it. Lifted his head.

But Li Yunzi wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was cold, distant.

Peace?

With Li Yunzi standing here, peace between Zulong and Lingxiao? Impossible.

“Sit,” she said. “Use your wit to write a letter demanding the return of your lord’s son. Until then… clean up the mess on the floor.”

She gestured to the pile of waste—peelings, seeds, chewed fruit, phlegm, remnants of food.

Yang Xiu stared at the filth. A wave of nausea rose in his throat. He wanted to slap himself.

Li Yunzi turned away, leaving him to his task.

“Yunzi,” an elder spoke, voice thick with pride. “You’ve saved us all.”

“Truly, the Female Sovereign returns,” someone sighed. “Zulong is blessed.”

“We must restore her title. She’s suffered enough.”

Li Yunzi didn’t respond. She walked straight ahead—past the dais, past the stunned courtiers—until she reached Lady Kongtong.

Lady Kongtong smiled, uncertain, wondering what Li Yunzi intended.

Li Yunzi took the thick marriage register from her hands. In front of everyone, she drew a sharp line through the name: *Li Yunzi.*

Lady Kongtong’s face drained of color—but she stayed silent.

Then, with a flick of her wrist, Li Yunzi tossed the ink brush across the hall. It landed squarely on the desks of Li Kongxi, Mu Qing, and the other “proper” daughters of the Li family.

The tip splattered. Ink smeared across their delicate, porcelain cheeks.

“Let them sell themselves for peace,” Li Yunzi said, smiling. “If I ever lose a battle, they’ll make excellent gifts for enemy cities.”

And as she spoke, the girls—Li Kongxi, Mu Qing, and the rest—turned ghost-white. Their laughter died in their throats. Their composure shattered.

Because they understood.

This wasn’t just war.

It was judgment.