Chapter 353: Chapter 353

"Alas, people are sure to die tomorrow," Zheng Fan thought, a pang in his heart.

Xu Wenzu had made it clear: Green Willow Fortress would have to give its all tomorrow.

"You can’t catch a wolf if you’re unwilling to risk the child. Besides, My Lord, in this world, there’s no such thing as reaping rewards without putting in the effort."

"I understand this principle. By the way, is there still no news from San’er?"

"Send the barbarian cavalry further out to search. San’er can’t have died that easily."

"This subordinate obeys."

"Let the brothers enjoy themselves tonight."

The Blind Man and Liang Cheng exchanged glances; they clearly saw their lord’s spirits were low.

"This subordinate takes his leave."

"This subordinate takes his leave." The most update n0vels are published on novᴇlfire.net

The Blind Man and Liang Cheng left. Soon after, Siniang pushed open the door and walked in, latching it behind her.

"My Lord, would you like a bath?"

"It’s still so early," Zheng Fan chuckled.

"There’s a battle tomorrow. My Lord needs to rest early to conserve energy for the morrow."

"It’s too early; I can’t sleep yet."

"Hmm, a bit of release, and you’ll be able to sleep."

"My Lord, shall I go boil the water then?"

"Alright. I am indeed a bit tired. Let’s wash up and go to bed early."

"What color would My Lord like to choose today?"

"Hey, did you hear? That Yan general, Zheng Fan, was killed by our Young Lord!"

"You mean that Yan bastard Zheng Fan, the one who attacked Mianzhou City twice?"

"He was really killed?"

"Killed! His head was even brought back by our Young Lord! Our Young Lord led our Great Qian iron cavalry straight into Yan State, took down four of their military encampments, and killed that Yan bastard Zheng Fan!"

"Wow, that’s incredible!"

"Hah, just look! Before our West Army Division headed north, those border armies along the three frontiers were completely suppressed by the Yan people, practically humiliated with the Yan riding on their necks! Now that our West Army Division is here, haven’t we pushed them right back? Direct Thief! They always boast that the Yan Iron Cavalry is the best under heaven, but from what I see, they’re nothing special."

Two army cooks were washing vegetables by the wellhead, chatting away, oblivious to a pair of ears eavesdropping on their conversation from down in the well.

What? My lord is dead?

Xue Three was stunned.

Then he subconsciously touched his body. Hmm, I haven’t disappeared. And it seems I haven’t dropped dead either! Heh... HAHAHAHA! So it turns out I don’t have to die if my lord dies!

After the wave of shock and elation, Xue Three quietly assessed himself again and found that his strength hadn’t changed at all.

Pfft! That oaf Fanli’s words really can’t be trusted. The restrictions on us haven’t disappeared even though my lord is dead.

After this intense emotional rollercoaster, Xue Three fell silent once more.

Alas... my lord is dead.

A faint melancholy suddenly washed over his heart.

Meanwhile, as he looked at Prince Fu’s head—wrapped in cloth and already preserved—in his arms, he suddenly found it wasn’t so endearing anymore. My own lord, too, had been beheaded.

Xue Three suddenly felt adrift. On one hand, he was free, something he had always craved. Yet, this freedom was accompanied by a profound emptiness. I don’t think I’ve ever seriously considered what I’d do after becoming free, have I? If my lord is dead, then are the Blind Man, Siniang, and the others... likely gone too?

A sense of desolation welled up in his heart.

Xue Three decided he wouldn’t wait any longer. In fact, he had tried to escape these past few days, but Mianzhou City seemed to be occupied by some important figure, and that person’s subordinates kept the city under ironclad security. Xue Three had attempted to leave several times but had been forced to retreat into the well each time.

As an assassin, ensuring a successful strike was his instinct.

But after hearing of Zheng Fan’s death, Xue Three couldn’t help but feel a surge of recklessness.

So, after the two men outside finished washing the vegetables and left, Xue Three climbed out of the well once more.

In his hands, he still clutched Prince Fu’s head.

Now that my lord was dead, this head, technically, had no more meaning.

But these past few days down in the well, Xue Three had only Prince Fu’s head to talk to. By now, in his eyes, Prince Fu wasn’t just a head but a cherished cloth doll that had kept him company for a long time.

This courtyard had become the "cookhouse," so even after the cured meat ran out, Xue Three wasn’t short of food. But the moment he stepped out of this cookhouse, the defenses outside immediately tightened, especially near the city walls. Not even a bird could fly over.

RUMBLE... RUMBLE... RUMBLE...

The sound of cart wheels came from beyond the wall.

Xue Three immediately pressed himself flat against the wall. Peeking his head out, he saw it was a dung cart.

The West Army Division maintained strict discipline. This was evident in all aspects, including hygiene. Wherever troops were to be stationed for an extended period, commanders would enforce extremely stringent sanitation regulations within the camp. This was a lesson hard-learned from years of warfare; often, an army was defeated not by the enemy, but by plague or infectious diseases.

The auxiliary soldiers and laborers attending the dung cart had gone into the neighboring house to collect the wooden latrine buckets, leaving the cart parked there unattended.

He quickly took off the Golden Silk Soft Armor he wore underneath his clothes and carefully wrapped Prince Fu’s head in it.