Because there were simply too many patients and a severe shortage of professional medical resources, countless patients still left this world every day without receiving adequate treatment.
To this mortal realm, the cycle of birth, aging, sickness, and death among the masses was merely the norm.
But to the friends and family of every soul who departed, once they were gone, it meant an eternal loss.
Zhu Qingyu hung a wooden board above her desk in the clinic, recording the daily changes in the number of patients in the military camp—
how many arrived, how many left, how many remained.
Among those who left, one column recorded those who had passed away from illness, and the other recorded those who had recovered and departed.
Though the numbers in the first column were decreasing daily, the second column remained at zero.
Zhu Qingyu’s goal was to make the first column shrink more and more, and the second column grow larger and larger, until every number on the board became zero.
Placing the board where she could see it at a glance, she used it as motivation. During this time, she was swamped with work, often forgoing meals and sleep.
She had once believed that when she was fully immersed in her work, she would have no time for romantic thoughts—that no matter how deep her feelings might be, they would fade away like the wind.
But every time she saw the cluster of little purple flowers, she had to admit that some flowers possessed such vigorous and tenacious vitality. Not only did they bloom everywhere in the northern frontier, but they also took root in her heart, sprouting from tiny seeds into blossoming flowers—growing more abundant and lush until they filled every corner of her heart, impervious to any storm that came.
These humble little purple flowers opened under the warmth of early spring day breezes and endured the harsh night winds.
They bloomed on Lord Zhu’s desk, and also flourished beside the military camp’s training ground, stretching across the vast northern frontier lands—onto the Gobi Desert, onto the battlefield at Jiufeng Mountain where two armies clashed, and even beneath Vice Minister Gu’s blood-dripping long blade.
Soaked in the blood of their enemies, these little purple flowers grew even more wanton and ostentatious.
Jiufeng Mountain was named for its shape—a range of nine towering peaks, stretching between the northern frontier and the northern barbarians, serving as the first line of defense for the northern frontier.
Deep and narrow gorges carved through the mountains provided the shortest route for armies marching from the barbarian lands to the northern frontier.
Gu Zhao led his army, lying in ambush for an entire day and night, until finally, the northern barbarian cavalry appeared in the narrow gorge.
For this campaign, the Eldest Grand Princess had specially arranged for General Wen’s Advisor Jiang to accompany Gu Zhao.
Advisor Jiang had served Grand General Wen for decades, surviving dozens of battles large and small against the northern barbarians. He knew every barbarian general inside out.
Thus, as soon as the barbarian cavalry came into view, Advisor Jiang’s expression turned grim. He leaned close to Gu Zhao’s ear and whispered:
“Vice Minister Gu, this time the invading army is led by the Left Virtuous King of the northern barbarians. This man’s combat prowess is terrifying—he is their number one fierce general. If you engage him, you must be extremely careful.”
Gu Zhao, hidden among the mountains, looked down. The leading Left Virtuous King stood taller than him, fiercer and more robust than Xiong Kun. In his hands, he wielded a wolf-teeth mace, topped with iron spikes, eighteen feet long. Riding a steed even larger than ordinary warhorses, he moved like a mountain.
If one were to confront such a charging mountain head-on in open battle, the outcome would be death or severe injury. Even those who survived would likely not escape the swift strike of that eighteen-foot wolf-teeth mace.
However, the narrow gorge both restricted the cavalry’s speed and limited the mace’s range. No matter how ferocious the Left Virtuous King, as long as Gu Zhao could trap him in the gorge and prevent him from reaching flat, open ground, his combat effectiveness would be greatly diminished.
Gu Zhao thanked Advisor Jiang for the warning, patiently waiting until the enemy’s main force had fully entered the ambush zone. Only then did he fire a signal flare.
Now was the time—attack!
From both sides of the peaks, countless boulders tumbled down, and tens of thousands of fire-tipped arrows rained from the sky. At both ends of the gorge, heavy troops had already sealed off the enemy’s escape, surrounding them completely.
Faced with the sudden avalanche of rocks and flaming arrows, even humans found it hard to remain calm, let alone beasts.
The northern barbarian warhorses, driven wild by animal instinct, panicked and scattered, but the narrow gorge left them nowhere to hide, causing them to trample one another.
Seizing the chaos caused by the barbarians’ internal turmoil, the northern frontier army charged in to harvest their heads, refusing to give the enemy any chance to reorganize.
As the melee unfolded, the barbarian cavalry, trapped from both ends and limited in space, trampled each other. More men died under their own horses’ hooves than from the frontier soldiers’ blades.
Thanks to the sudden assault and the gorge’s natural disadvantage for cavalry, the battle tilted overwhelmingly in the frontier army’s favor. Winning this ambush seemed only a matter of time.
But amid the encirclement, the Left Virtuous King finally steadied his horse, regrouped his men, and swung his eighteen-foot wolf-teeth mace. With one fierce sweep, he knocked down a line of frontier soldiers; with another, he flattened yet another line.
As soon as the barbarians’ number one fierce general struck, dozens of the frontier side fell dead or wounded within moments.
Brandishing his wolf-teeth mace, the Left Virtuous King bellowed:
“Who dares to come and die!”
Watching dozens fall, their fates unknown, the frontier soldiers hesitated—no one dared approach him for a time.
The Left Virtuous King let out a wild laugh:
“Since you cowards dare not face me, I’ll be on my way!”
Relying on the space carved out by his mace swings, the barbarian cavalry, with the Left Virtuous King at the lead, gradually closed ranks and pressed closer to the edges of the encirclement, threatening to break through.
Advisor Jiang, hiding halfway up the mountain, clenched his fists in frustration:
“Oh no, why did it have to be him! Vice Minister Gu, this is bad—if he breaks out and escapes this gorge, it will be nearly impossible to contain him again! Huh? Vice Minister Gu? Vice Minister Gu?”
The Left Virtuous King was breaking through the encirclement, slaying anyone in his path like a demon incarnate—he might as well have been stepping into an empty field. But just as he was about to break free, two horsemen charged against the stream, one from the left and one from the right.
The one on the left, as burly as a bear, was Xiong Kun.
Xiong Kun held a long spear, roared, and spurred his horse, charging directly at the Left Virtuous King.
The Left Virtuous King lifted his mace to meet the attack. The one on the right—Gu Zhao—rode up at lightning speed, as the three horses nearly collided.
Gu Zhao, gripping his long blade, leaped from his own horse onto the Left Virtuous King’s mount as Xiong Kun distracted the enemy. Swinging his blade downward in a horizontal slash, he shouted:
“If you want to leave, you can—but leave your head behind!”
