ZHAO JUREN'S LAST LOVE
CHAPTER 4. Last Battle

Zhao Juren's eyes were trying to pierce through the darkness, looking towards the battlefield hiding in dimness in the distance, where everything was smashed apart, Niangxi never gave up on capturing the western outskirts of Yanzhie, the Yanzhan mountains and the cities and settlements along its slopes have never escaped the dispute between the two great countries.

How not, the old town of Yichan adjacent to the Yanshan mountains has a long story where the genealogy of Y anzhie and Niangxi originated. The old city is a witness to the split of a large country into a new country due to civil wars in the past. The bitter history, though, it remained a dispute for centuries in which Yanzhie claimed that the historic city belonged to Yanzhie while Niangxi attempted to seize it because they felt that their roots came from that place.

But rumors are circulating, actually the dispute is not only because of the seizure of the historic region but because in the city is stored an infinite treasure, buried somewhere, waiting for someone to find it. A treasure that was even more precious than a gold mine. There are many secrets hidden in the city of Yichan.

The word-of-mouth story has never been proven that even prime minister Yanzhi as one of the oldest in Yanzhie country shut up.

Zhao Juren pulled her dark-colored coat tighter into her body, the light night breeze lifting up her charming black hair, like a silk jig that flew like a wave in the wind.

The battle had been going on for six whole days without stopping, in the wilderness, between the Yanshan mountains on a flat field that was beginning to crumble as it passed through the summer, the yellow grass of autumn was crushed in the stomps of the two countries' armies. All day long there was the neighing of the horses among the unbroken cries in the air, fresh blood falling on the sheets of grass, the autumn wind blowing, the, making a rustling sound from the background of the forest trees which now leaves orange and almost half leave the branches.

The grasslands beneath the Yanshan mountains are becoming more gripping and terrifying, the sound of crows is a messenger every night. They enjoyed dinner for the carcasses of men who had not been properly buried. The rest who live too tired and starving have no strength to pay homage to those who die on the battlefield.

From a distance Zhao Juren could see the enemy camp, under the moonlight faintly reflecting a silvery-white light, looking slightly blinding to the eyes. There was a bonfire burning, smoke rising, gone in the dark of the night before it reached the black sky.

“Kaok..kaok...!”

Zhao Juren raised his head, that handsome face with hard jaws was looking up at the flock of crows that flew briefly over his head, passing through the night mist towards the arena where the bloodshed had occurred earlier this afternoon, the crow's claws lightly swept over the grass, seolsh was picking up something before then flying back.

Zhao Juren's eyes squinted as he watched from a distance a faint white color flashed, then as his eyes blinked a few birds it flew back with a sound of roaring towards the gloomy forest.

Although it was only a flash and Zhao Juren's eyes weren't very careful to recognize what the crows were clutching, he could tell that they were enjoying dinner from the remnants of the war last day. In the middle of the arena was still scattered young bodies in blood, the autumn grass below was colored like a houyun flower, red.

Zhao Juren was almost numb to all the feelings of sadness and disgust resulting from every bloodshed after years of seeing and feeling the cruelty of war. How not? he always stood at the very front greeting the angel of death and watching his own sword take the lives of anyone who stood in his way.

War is strange, he acts like a huge magnetic hole that always tries to suck the people around him, moving like a vortex, the vortex engulfs countless lives, he said, life after life seems like there is no longer any price. The air was stuffy with this fishy smell, leaving behind the sounds of weeping and wailing, they could never even return to his house and all the love that was waiting there.

"I will marry you to one of the noble children you like or the honorable woman in this Yubei. You just say it, then I'll make sure you marry her in the blink of an eye." Once His Majesty Yan Yue said this while he was sitting in Shenhua Park one afternoon.

Zhao Juren simply shook her head, she had no thought of marrying anyone. His heart was numb after Jiu Fei's death and it was as if numb upon knowing that Xiao Yi was His Majesty's concubine.

"You may marry one of my concubines, I have freed some of them. I swear I never touched them as long as I married them. Our marriage is just a political marriage." His Majesty's words passed through his ears when from a distance he saw Grand Empress Xiao Yi walking while holding her two sons.

"I do want one of your wives, Your Majesty. But it is not from among those whom you set free." that sentence is spoken only in his deepest heart. Does he love the wrong person or does the wrong love always come too late for him?

Zhao Juren only felt disgusted with herself, with her guess so dirty.  How could he shake off that feeling when a night like this arrived, he felt his bones ringing and pain gnawing, he was that warlord who mediated death after death before his eyes, mired in the trivial and low thing that is love.

Given all of that, Zhao Juren wanted to put an end to his strange destiny and after this war was over, he promised to go as far as possible, the war in this fall was his last war. He will wander to the ends of the world to see what life is like beyond bloodshed. Is it really as beautiful as the stories that travelers sing in their songs?

“Mr Zhao..”.

From the darkness came the voice of someone calling out to him.

...ZHAO JUREN'S...

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