While everyone’s attention was fixed on the flashing blades and clashing swords, too preoccupied to notice him, Ruan Xuezong slipped away—and he took the white horse with him as he went.
The white horse had no idea he had escaped. The moment Ruan Xuezong appeared, it trotted right over and nuzzled him affectionately. It was clear that after spending the past few days together, the horse had grown quite fond of him.
“Want to come with me? Are you willing to go from royal steed to wandering stray?” Ruan Xuezong gently raised his hand in a symbolic request for permission. The white horse, thinking it was about to be petted, eagerly pressed its neck forward.
Ruan Xuezong stroked its mane and smiled faintly. “I don’t speak horse, so I’ll take that as a yes.”
Soon after, just outside the royal city, a young man in a veil hat galloped away from the capital atop the white horse, dashing off in style.
Half an hour later, as one of the players shouted, “Ah, Zongzong’s gone!”, the Yong Royal Palace finally realized their key figure had vanished. Everyone’s faces filled with shock. Expert duels were a whirlwind of action, every second a blur that left spectators breathless—but no one had even noticed when the beauty who sparked the whole conflict had disappeared. Of course, ordinary people wouldn’t suspect someone might just bolt amid the chaos.
In the blink of an eye, the two grandmaster-level powerhouses facing off decisively sheathed their weapons. They exchanged a cold glance, both understanding that with the main player gone, there was no point continuing the duel.
The players were the ones truly heartbroken. “Aaaah, we just met Zongzong, our warm and fresh Zongzong, and poof—he’s gone!”
【Never saw it coming—the massive Western Regions storyline special “Finding Zongzong” gets a sequel!! Dog planner, get out here and take your beating! Spill the next location already!!!】
Ruan Xuezong had noticed the horse’s proud temperament upon first meeting it, a natural nobility that made him suspect it came from exceptional bloodlines. After spending time together now, that hunch was confirmed. The white horse’s warm amber eyes seemed to understand human speech, and it could carry him anywhere he wished.
But Ruan Xuezong had underestimated just how conspicuous a beautiful white horse would be in the desert.
He had just checked into an inn at a small town, planning to stock up on rations and fresh water.
That very night, a troop of soldiers came knocking, using the kind of house-search excuse no ordinary citizen could refuse.
Ruan Xuezong cooperated and opened the door. Outside stood several armored soldiers. Their leader, an older man who seemed to be the Guard Captain, swept the room with hawk-like eyes before fixing them on Ruan Xuezong. In an official tone, he said, “Apologies for the disturbance. A brazen assassin from the Central Plains has infiltrated the capital. We’re searching the city on orders from the Chasang King.”
An uneasy premonition stirred in Ruan Xuezong’s heart.
“Here’s a wanted portrait of the suspect. Have you seen this person?” the Guard Captain asked sternly, slowly unfurling the image in his hand. “Any leads reported will earn you a reward of fifty thousand gold.”
Ruan Xuezong: “…”
“Never seen him. Don’t know him. You can close the door now.” His newly downloaded voice pack perfectly masked his Central Plains accent—no normal person would suspect a thing.
But as he tried to shut the door, an arm blocked it. The Guard Captain stared at Ruan Xuezong intently. “Could the guest please lift your veil hat for confirmation? Just to be safe…”
His words said one thing, but his eyes had already made up his mind.
The corner of Ruan Xuezong’s mouth curved coldly beneath the veil hat. Before the man could reach for it, his figure blurred. A shadow flashed by, too fast to track—and in moments, every soldier on the scene froze stiff, unable to move.
He had sealed their acupoints.
Their faces twisted in terror as they stared at Ruan Xuezong, never expecting the Chasang King’s bounty target to possess such unfathomable martial prowess.
Ruan Xuezong snorted coldly, turned, and left swiftly. He headed to the stables to retrieve the white horse. Not long after his departure, a legend began to spread across the Great Desert. They said a beauty had appeared among the Central Plains treasure hunters—a mysterious assassin of formidable skill who showed up in the Little West Continent. He had stormed the Yong Royal Palace to kill Li Yu Heng, who had seized a Central Plains beauty.
Just how stunning was this instigating beauty? It sparked endless speculation, imagination, and debate.
Eyewitnesses claimed his radiance rivaled the moon itself, making a single trace of him worth fifty thousand gold. He had ignited a duel between two half-step grandmasters—and after his disappearance, over a thousand ragtag onlookers wailed in grief, chanting his name obsessively. A vortex swirled through the Little West Continent… All signs pointed to this Central Plains beauty being a shining new pearl of the desert.
…
Ruan Xuezong never heard this absurd rumor. He had already left the Little West Continent behind. While riding through the desert, he suddenly spotted a caravan.
It wasn’t an ordinary group. At its head strode a man with a blade at his waist, followed by a ragged bunch of slaves—dark-skinned and gaunt, their throats parched, stumbling through the sands with a trail of footprints behind them.
What caught Ruan Xuezong’s eye was their banner. He narrowed his eyes, pulled out Qu Wangshu’s relic, and compared it carefully in the sunlight. The emblem on the relic closely resembled the totem on the flag.
An idea took shape in Ruan Xuezong’s mind. He leaned down to stroke the white horse’s neck.
“Good boy, I’ve got some big business to handle. You wait for me here in the desert—stay safe, don’t let any Western Regions bandits spot you. You get what I mean, right? I know you’re a naturally intelligent horse.” Ruan Xuezong gave the white horse careful instructions.
The white horse seemed to understand perfectly. It pawed the sand, then turned away with a lingering glance every three steps, heading toward a nearby oasis.
Once the horse had taken care of itself,
Ruan Xuezong gathered his inner energy into his palm and pressed it against his clothes. With a shake of his hand, the fabric shredded into tatters, achieving a ragged, bedraggled look. He then thickened his eyebrows, smeared mud and sand across his face for a quick disguise, and blended into the slave caravan.
The group consisted of strangers. After observing them, he sighed dramatically. “We’ve been walking forever. Where exactly is this lord taking us?”
An elderly man, shackled in black irons at hands and feet, glanced at Ruan Xuezong’s unbound limbs and explained. “No shackles? Must mean your crime was minor. We’re criminal slaves, being shipped to Chasang Kingdom—men to servitude, women to concubinage.”
Ruan Xuezong: “Mm… I didn’t do anything wrong.” Just borrowed a horse.
So the mark belonged to Chasang. He pondered thoughtfully.
“Better if you didn’t do anything serious. Light offenders can buy back their freedom; heavy ones face certain death.” The old man shook his head with a mocking expression.
Ruan Xuezong: “Aren’t we just going to be slaves? Why death?”
The elder let out a long, low sigh. “Young man, you’re too naive. Do you know of Chasang Kingdom’s Holy Son, Wu Yao? Born with an illness, he’s capricious and violent, with over a hundred lives on his hands already. Once you end up under him, it’s nine deaths to one life.”
“So that’s how it is.” Ruan Xuezong frowned slightly. No wonder the slaves all looked so ashen—they were prepared to die.
Just then, a gust of wind swirled around his feet, kicking up sand as if whispering some secret.
…
“Your Majesty, those twenty-odd slaves have arrived,” a guard said respectfully outside the queen’s chambers, head bowed low, eyes fixed ahead. Even with a jewel-encrusted beauty reclining on the lavish bed within, he dared not glance her way. One chilling look from her could stop his heart cold.
It wasn’t awe at her beauty—though the Queen’s youthful allure had once dazzled the entire Western Regions, binding her to the Chasang King in twenty years of inseparable passion. No, pure terror gripped him. That devotion carried a brutal edge: the Chasang King, bedridden for years, still harbored an unyielding possessiveness. A single extra glance at the Queen, or any displeasure from her, meant eyes gouged out by royal decree.
“Only twenty-odd this time?” Jade-white fingers lightly brushed the peacock feather fan in her hand. The Queen’s tone held a hint of doubt. Her voice was enchantingly melodic, but to the guard, it boomed like thunder from a clear sky—accusing him of failure, perhaps dooming him to execution next.
He could only kowtow. “No helping it, Your Majesty. The Great Desert’s been restless lately, with peasant uprisings. The Banishment Land sits on the border between Chasang territory and the Little West Continent, so there was some dispute over this batch of slaves. Only these twenty-odd criminals made it through.”
At the mention of the Little West Continent, the Queen’s face darkened abruptly. “Very well, then. Send them to the Holy Son for inspection.” Her expression softened to serenity, and she sighed gently. “I hope the Holy Son learns mercy this time.”
Hearing this eased the guard’s fear. He couldn’t help but marvel inwardly: With Your Majesty ill, the Queen had long handled state affairs from behind the curtain, managing Chasang’s every detail. Her duties were endless. Though she could be unstable and mad at times, she also shone with a mother’s compassion, fretting over every little thing concerning the Holy Son.
The guard led the slaves to the Radiant Water Garden, where he overheard the Holy Son’s youthful, ethereal voice.
“I’ve heard a stunningly beautiful Central Plains person showed up in the Great Desert lately, surrounded by two half-step grandmasters. Another Central Plains beauty… They say Central Plains beauties’ hearts and livers cure eye ailments. If we find this one, maybe my eyes can heal. What do you think, Mu Ti Ya?”
Everyone outside shivered. They didn’t know if that famed Central Plains beauty was real, but the Holy Son’s cruelty certainly was.
Ruan Xuezong frowned slightly.
He couldn’t stomach talk of ripping out hearts and livers.
He lifted his head then, gazing at the serene youth. Upon seeing him clearly, Ruan Xuezong’s expression froze for a moment.
Chasang Kingdom’s Holy Son was indeed young, only sixteen or seventeen, with the graceful look of a refined youth. But his hair was snow-white like silver, framing eyelashes of the same pale shade over golden pupils—eyes that appeared profoundly empty. The strange coloration suited him perfectly, without a hint of oddity. His handsome, clear-featured face was deathly pale, alarmingly so.
As the group approached, the youth turned toward the sound. His senses were sharp, though his eyes held only calm, lacking any spark of life—like his voice, cold and distant. “Ah, are these the slaves to serve me?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The guard trembled inwardly. If the Queen terrified him, the Holy Son chilled the soul. “The Queen said you can pick however many you want. The rest will be sent to labor in the palace corners.”
“I can’t see anyway. I don’t want any.” The youth’s thin lips pressed tight, his tone icy.
“You must pick some—several, even—or I can’t face the Queen and Your Majesty.” The guard stammered in fear.
Mention of those two furrowed the Holy Son’s brow at first. After a long pause, he seemed to yield calmly.
“Fine, these ones then.” He extended a fingertip slowly. Everyone knew the Holy Son’s side was hell itself. Trembling breaths escaped uncontrollably as he pointed—and by ill chance, he selected Ruan Xuezong, the infiltrator.
Ruan Xuezong paused, surprised. He had stood at the edge of the line, in the corner.
“Yes, you. I like the quiet ones who don’t make a sound,” the youth said, looking toward Ruan Xuezong.
