Transmigrated into the Villain's Cannon Fodder Ex-Wife (Transmigrated into a Book) - Chapter 24.2

A lone rider galloped into the silent city. The streets were empty, the walls standing tall and cold under the wind.

He pulled on the reins, stopping his horse before the great gates.

There, carved into stone, were two words: “Qiang City.”

The man stared at them for a long time. Then, slowly, he got off his horse, knelt on the ground, and bowed three times.

His handsome face, though hardened by years of hardship, betrayed no emotion. Only his hoarse whisper carried the weight of his anguish. 

“Father… It wasn’t that I failed to defend the gate at Qiang City—it’s that I couldn’t hold it…”

The Crown Prince had been the eldest legitimate son of Emperor Zhao, the two separated by a mere twenty years. Yet, as Emperor Zhao aged, his declining health only tightened his grip on power. Paranoid of betrayal, he had grown increasingly wary of his son.

Though the Crown Prince was known more for mediocrity than brilliance, his maternal family, the Yan clan, commanded formidable military strength—a fact that festered in the emperor’s mind, feeding his distrust. The paranoia soon took its toll, manifesting as illness.

One fateful day, while the Crown Prince dutifully attended to his ailing father, the emperor choked on the medicine fed to him. Chaos erupted, and the Imperial Medical Bureau was summoned in haste.

Before they could diagnose the situation, Consort Song, the Second Prince’s mother, accused the Crown Prince of poisoning the emperor. The accusation was swift, and the consequences dire: the Crown Prince was imprisoned.

Though the emperor later dismissed the incident as a misunderstanding, he seized the opportunity to weaken the Crown Prince’s influence. Under the pretext of eliminating potential threats, he targeted the Yan clan for destruction.

The charge of attempted regicide carried the harshest penalty—the execution of nine generations.

Reflecting on those events, Yan Mingge’s expression remained calm, though his fists clenched tightly beneath his robes. Five years had passed since his exile to the borderlands.

Early on, the Second Prince had secretly ordered his execution, but the constant invasions by barbarian forces had made Yan Mingge indispensable. General Feng Yan, incompetent but politically astute, had relied heavily on him to hold the city together.

Through sheer tenacity, Yan Mingge had not only defended Qiang City but secured victories that bolstered Feng Yan’s career. Yet his reward for this loyalty was betrayal—an arrow loosed from within his own ranks during the final battle.

As he bled in the snow, Yan Mingge uncovered the truth. Some within Qiang City were not loyal to the Second Prince. Among them was Wang Meng, a spy planted by the Third Prince to sow chaos and destabilize his rival.

Now, the chains that had once bound him were gone.

Yan Mingge knelt in the snow for what felt like an eternity. Only when the freezing cold seeped into his knees did he rise. Leading his black steed by the reins, he stepped forward, passing through the gates of Qiang City.

Inside, desolation greeted him. Everywhere he looked, there was nothing but ruin.

As Yan Mingge walked down the empty road, his boots crunched over broken debris and, at times, the lifeless bodies of the fallen.

When he passed the east city gate, his steps slowed. A man was pinned to the gate by a spear—an old veteran.

It was Uncle Song.

Without a word, Yan Mingge walked over, pulled his body down, and buried him in the snow and mud.

He remained silent the whole time.

Once the burial was done, he took the reins of his black horse and continued forward.

Before long, he reached the general’s mansion. Instinct made him stop. This place had once been his father’s home. He had lived here too, long ago…

He stepped inside. The courtyard was quiet, covered in a thin layer of snow. But then, he saw a small figure squatting near the ground.

It was Baozi.

The cold night had drained the color from Han Junye’s face. In front of him lay Jiang Wanxue, her expression frozen in pain and regret.

Snow covered her body like a shroud, whiter than the robes she used to wear. Only her face had been wiped clean—Han Junye’s trembling hands had done that.

Yan Mingge stood still, looking down at her lifeless form.

Only then did Han Junye notice him. His lips were tinged with blue from the cold. He lifted his round eyes and asked in a voice as soft as a kitten’s, 

“Is my mother too cold? She’s so frozen.”

He still had bits of straw and chicken feathers clinging to his clothes. Yesterday, after being separated from Jiang Wanxue, he had run to the henhouse to hide and cry.

He had once watched his father and mother play the guqin together under a plum tree. But that day in the inn, he saw his mother playing the guqin for a stranger.

He was young, but he understood. His mother didn’t want him anymore. That was why he had said those cruel words to her.

He had cried himself to sleep in the chicken coop. Half-asleep, he heard the sounds of chaos outside. When he peeked out, he saw death everywhere. Fear kept him hidden beneath the straw. He was small—no one thought to look for a child among the chickens.

When the noise faded, he finally crawled out.

Everyone was gone.

He had dug through the snow for a long time before he found his mother.

Yan Mingge crouched down and reached out to close Jiang Wanxue’s eyes.

But even after brushing them three times, her eyes remained wide open in anger.

He exhaled softly. “Forget the good and bad of this life,” he murmured. “Only in the next one can you be born into a good family.”

Jiang Wanxue’s eyes closed.

Han Junye watched blankly. Then, in a small, hollow voice, he asked, 

“Is my mother asleep?”

Yan Mingge didn’t answer.

Han Junye pressed his lips together. 

“Then I won’t wake her. If I do, she’ll get mad. She never liked me much anyway…”

Yan Mingge stared at him, his voice cold and certain. 

“You don’t have a mother anymore.”

Han Junye blinked up at him, his face drained of all color. Then, after a long pause, he said softly, 

“My chicken is dead too.”

Only then did Yan Mingge notice the small, lifeless bird clutched against the boy’s chest. Its beak was slightly open.

Yan Mingge was not good at comforting. He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but before he could, Han Junye’s small body swayed—

And then he collapsed.

Yan Mingge caught him just in time.

For a moment, he simply stared at the child’s delicate features—features that resembled his old friend.

Then, after a long silence, he unfastened his cloak, wrapped the boy’s frozen body inside, and strode away with him in his arms.

Yao City

The afternoon sun had risen high.

In the teahouse, the wind was dry and biting, cutting through the air like a blade.

At first, the group had been laughing, joking—but now, an uneasy silence fell over them.

All eyes were on the city gate.

In an inn nearby, Shi Liu jolted awake. As soon as he found out that Lin Chu had gone to the city gate, he hurried out.

But when he arrived, his face darkened.

Yan Mingge was still missing.

Yuan San and the others had already gone out searching for him, but they hadn’t returned either.

Shi Liu clenched his fists, then turned and headed straight for the tower.

Wang Hu grabbed his arm. “Xiao Liu! Where do you think you’re going?”

Shi Liu’s jaw tightened. “I’m a scout. I know how to slip past the barbarians. I’ll find Brother Yan and Brother Yuan and bring them back!”

Wang Hu—an eight-foot-tall man—felt his throat tighten at Shi Liu’s words. He raised a hand to pat Shi Liu’s shoulder, about to say something—

Then, suddenly—

The ground trembled.

Shi Liu’s expression sharpened.

Without hesitation, he crouched down, pressing his ear against the earth—listening.

After a moment, Shi Liu lifted his head, eyes bright with excitement. 

“They’re here!” he shouted. “Two groups—one smaller in the front, the other behind them, all on horseback. It’s Brother Yan and the others!”

A cheer erupted from the group. Without hesitation, they rushed toward the city gate.

In the distance, clouds of yellow dust rose from the official road, twisting into the sky like a storm.

The officers and soldiers guarding the city turned pale.

For years, Qiang City had stood as the first line of defense. The cities behind it had never seen such a sight. Panic took hold.

“Close the gates!” one of the guards shouted, his voice trembling. “Shut the city gate—hurry!”

Shi Liu’s face darkened. “Brother Yan and the others haven’t made it inside yet!”

The guard’s expression was cold. “Do you think Yao City is like your broken Qiang City? They are not coming in! If we let the barbarians cross the Dark River boundary, then Qiang City’s so-called defenses will have been for nothing!”

Even as they argued, the soldiers of Yao City moved in unison, pulling the thick iron gates shut. The massive doors, weighing dozens of tons, groaned as they sealed off the entrance.

“Ah—!” Wang Hu let out a roar of frustration, his eyes bloodshot.

Lin Chu’s palms were clammy with sweat, but her mind remained sharp. She took a deep breath and ordered, “Get to the tower! Archers, prepare!”

Her voice cut through the panic like a blade. The remaining Qiang City soldiers, who had been drowning in despair, snapped back to their senses. They bolted for the tower.

Lin Chu followed.

A guard grabbed her arm. “Women aren’t allowed on the tower!”

Lin Chu didn’t hesitate. She swung her arm and struck him across the face.

“Light the signal smoke! Sound the war drums, you idiot!” she snapped.

The guard staggered back, stunned. He wasn’t a true soldier—just some noble from the capital who had been sent to the border for “experience.” In reality, he was here for an easy post, biding his time until he could return home.

He had never crawled out of a military camp.

And now, at the sight of an approaching army, he was paralyzed with fear.

The slap left the guard momentarily stunned. He stood frozen, as if his brain had yet to process what had just happened.

The deputy general hadn’t expected this black-faced woman to be so forceful. But when Lin Chu barked at him to bring up the bows, arrows, and catapults, he instinctively obeyed, nodding before scrambling off—running faster than a startled rabbit.

From the towering height of Yao City’s walls, one could clearly see Yan Mingge’s group fending off the barbarian arrows, their five-pronged volley falling short in the dust-choked air.

Shi Liu cursed under his breath. “Those cowards in Yao City! They could have at least waited for Brother Yan and the others to enter before shutting the gates!”

Qiang City’s gates were made of fine iron—thick, impenetrable, and near impossible to break. Once closed, reopening them required the combined effort of hundreds of men.

Right now, there was no time.

Below the city walls, Yuan San rode alongside Yan Mingge, squinting up toward the tower. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

“Brother, look—your wife is up there!”

Yan Mingge snapped his gaze upward. Amidst the chaos, his eyes locked onto a small, dark figure standing among the soldiers.

He said nothing. Instead, he lashed his whip, urging his horse forward with a fierce “Hyah!”

In his arms, Han Junye—a small, fever-ridden child—remained unconscious.

Lin Chu spotted Yan Mingge as well, but he was still too far away.

The deputy general had brought up all the archers, but their formation was an absolute mess.

The sight of Yan Mingge had roused the surviving Qiang City soldiers into a frenzy. They cheered wildly—but without any sense of order.

Lin Chu’s expression darkened. These men are strong on their own, but without Yan Mingge and Yuan San, they’re nothing but scattered sand.

If this continued, how would Yan Mingge and his group make it into the city safely?

Her sharp eyes swept over the archers the deputy general had gathered. Gritting her teeth, she asked, “Who here can shoot on horseback?”

“Me!”

A Qiang soldier stepped forward.

Lin Chu didn’t hesitate. “You’re in charge of these archers now. Do exactly what Yan Mingge did before!”

The soldier nodded and immediately commanded the archers into position. He ordered them to fill every gap in the tower, while the reserves waited behind, ready to take over the moment the frontline archers loosed their arrows.

Just then, the Yao City Chief guard arrived at the tower. His face turned pale as he saw the approaching army.

“Quick!” he shouted. “Remove the underground river slabs! Open the sluice—cut them off!”

The so-called “underground river” was actually a concealed moat outside Yao City. Normally, it was covered by thick ironwood planks, making it seem like solid ground. But during wartime, the planks could be removed, revealing the deep trench below.

A dam had been built in the mountains to collect water during the rainy season. If the city was under siege, they could open the sluice gates and flood the moat, turning it into an impassable barrier.

Lin Chu’s gaze turned ice-cold.

The sword at her hip was too heavy to wield in this moment, so she simply pulled an arrow from her quiver and nocked it—aiming straight at the Chief guard’s throat.

Her voice was steady, but deadly.

“Whoever dares to remove those planks—try it, and I’ll shoot you down myself.”

The soldiers on the tower stiffened.

There was something in Lin Chu’s demeanor that made Wang Hu and the others falter. For the first time, they saw a shadow of Yan Mingge in her—the same unwavering will, the same fearless resolve.

And just like that, the chaos settled.

Everyone focused on their tasks.

The Chief guard, now held at arrow-point, dared not give another order.

Lin Chu’s voice rang out over the battlements.

“When I tell you to open the underground river—you do it then.”

Fearing for his life, he quickly ordered his men to follow Lin Chu’s commands.

In truth, he felt relieved. With her taking charge, any blame for Yao City’s fate would fall on her shoulders—not his. If things went wrong, he could simply claim he was held hostage.

Lin Chu, however, had no time to worry about his scheming thoughts. Her sharp gaze remained locked on Yan Mingge and his group as they charged across the underground river boundary.

Then, she shouted, “Open the underground river! Release the sluice gate!”

The moment the barbarians reached the boundary, the ground beneath them suddenly gave way.

Horses and riders tumbled into the newly revealed trench. The three-foot-deep, five-foot-wide river cut through their path like a knife, separating them from their quarry.

Some of the barbarians scrambled to climb the slick river walls, but before they could find their footing, a powerful flood surged through the sluice gates. The sudden rush of water swept them away, dragging them into the raging current.

Meanwhile, the closest pursuers—those who had managed to stay ahead—had just entered the city’s firing range.

A deadly rain of arrows greeted them.

The sky darkened with the sheer volume of projectiles. Men and horses collapsed mid-stride, their screams swallowed by the chaos.

Yan Mingge and his group had nearly reached the city walls. Wang Hu, without waiting for Lin Chu’s orders this time, immediately signaled for the hanging cage to be lowered.

Yan Mingge and Yuan San climbed in, clutching tightly to Han Junye. The soldiers on the tower heaved with all their strength, hoisting them skyward.

A few barbarians had managed to swim across the river, but upon seeing the hanging cage rising above their reach, they hesitated. To charge into the arrow storm meant certain death, yet staying outside meant they couldn’t touch their targets. Gritting their teeth, they could do nothing but watch in frustration.

Victory was within reach.

But then—

A sharp twang echoed through the air.

The ropes holding Yan Mingge’s cage trembled violently.

Yao City hadn’t seen battle in years, and the ropes were old, frayed with time.

Lin Chu’s heart lurched.

The fibers strained, about to snap.

“Careful!” she shouted at the soldiers pulling the ropes, her voice sharp with urgency.

Yan Mingge, hanging in midair, met her gaze.

For a brief moment, time seemed to still.

Then, without hesitation, he shifted Han Junye securely into the basket.

And before anyone could stop him—

He let go.

“Brother!”

“Yan Mingge!”