The Villains Must Win-Chapter 49: Han Feng

When word of Rui Hua’s death reached Liang Wei, he was consumed by grief and rage. He refused to believe that Rui Hua would harm the Empress of Han.

She was kind and intelligent—she would never do something like that. There was no reason for her to. She knew full well that such an action would spark a war, and Rui Hua wasn’t the type to invite unnecessary conflict.

No—Han Feng had killed her because they were enemies.

He had played with him, toyed with his emotions, made him believe that Rui Hua would be returned safe and sound. He let him hold on to that fragile hope, let him believe in the possibility of a reunion.

And just when the moment of relief was near—when he was about to take back the love of his life—Han Feng killed her.

For that, he would pay.

Blinded by vengeance, Liang Wei rallied his armies and declared war on Han, setting the stage for a brutal conflict that would shake both empires.

And all of it, every battle, every loss, every drop of blood spilled—was the result of Rui Hua’s obsession, her desire to claim a love that was never meant for her.

=== 🖤 ===

Months passed, and the war with Liang raged on. While Han Feng fought on the battlefield, Xue Li remained behind, pacing restlessly in her chambers.

She still blamed herself for her missteps. Perhaps she had been foolish to think she could change fate. No matter how hard she tried, the war had come regardless. Perhaps . . . it had always been destined to unfold this way.

Yet, the thought that unsettled her the most was not the war itself—it was what came after.

With Rui Hua, the heroine of this tale, now dead . . . what would happen? Would Liang Wei still be able to kill Han Feng?

The uncertainty gnawed at her, filling her with an unbearable tension. She let out a frustrated scream, muffling it into her pillow. freeweɓnovel.cøm

"Why must men insist on going to war?!" she groaned. "This waiting is killing me!"

Each passing day only deepened her restlessness. The absence of Han Feng made the palace feel like a suffocating prison, and an ominous feeling lurked in the back of her mind.

Then, one evening, a commotion outside her doors broke her thoughts. She turned just as the doors swung open, revealing Duke Li Jin—the very man who had brought Princess Rui Hua to Han. The man who had set all of this in motion.

Xue Li’s heart clenched.

Behind him, soldiers marched in, their faces cold and unreadable.

"You dare to barge into the Empress’s quarters?" Xue Li demanded, keeping her voice firm even as unease crawled up her spine. "The Duke is truly bold."

The older man merely smirked, pacing leisurely across her chambers as if he owned them.

"The Emperor and his army are far from here, locked in battle," he said smoothly. "By the time he returns . . . you will no longer be here."

Xue Li stiffened. "What do you mean?"

Duke Li Jin’s eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction. "The noble families and court officials have reached an agreement. The Emperor has not been himself since you entered his life. And so, for the sake of Han, we have decided to eliminate you."

"The Emperor will hear of this," Xue Li warned.

The Duke let out a low chuckle, his amusement chilling. "Ah, but that is assuming he returns alive."

Xue Li’s blood ran cold.

"What . . . what have you done?" she whispered.

"You see, Empress," he said, voice dripping with mockery, "we have conspired with Liang. A trap has been set for that fool Han Feng. There will be no reinforcements. No escape."

"You . . . you colluded with the enemy?" Xue Li’s voice trembled with fury. "You traitors!"

"Traitors?" Duke Li Jin scoffed. "We do this for the betterment of Han."

"For Han?" Xue Li’s lips curled into a bitter smile. "Or for yourselves?"

The Duke sneered, unimpressed by her defiance. "It hardly matters now. Guards, kill her. Take her head as a gift to our Emperor—let her death demoralize that foolish Han Feng in battle."

Xue Li’s breath hitched. She stepped back as the guards advanced, weapons gleaming under the lantern light.

"This is it," she thought.

A soldier lunged at her. Instinct took over.

The soul inside Xue Li—the soul of a modern woman who had lived alone and learned to fight for herself—stirred. She dodged the blade, her movements nothing like those of a delicate noblewoman.

Before the guards could react, she grabbed the sword from another soldier’s scabbard and, in one swift motion, plunged it into Duke Li Jin’s heart.

Silence fell.

The Duke’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth parting soundlessly. The guards stood frozen, too stunned to move.

By the time realization dawned, it was too late.

Xue Li twisted the blade, her grip steady despite the blood now staining her hands. "If I am to die," she whispered, leaning close, "then I will take you with me, you treacherous snake."

"You . . . you vile woman," Duke Li Jin choked out. Blood dribbled from his lips as he collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

The guards snapped out of their daze.

"Kill her!" someone shouted.

Xue Li barely had time to react before multiple swords pierced her body.

Pain—burning, unbearable pain—shot through her, and she staggered, blood spilling from her wounds. She fell to the floor, her vision blurring.

In the distance, she heard shouts. The clash of weapons. Footsteps—fast, desperate.

Then, a pair of strong arms lifted her from the cold ground. A familiar voice, thick with anguish, called her name.

"Xue Li! Xue Li!"

She forced her eyes open, her vision hazy. Through the fading light, she saw Han Feng. His face was twisted with grief, his eyes wide with horror.

Xue Li smiled weakly.

"I’m glad . . . you’re alive . . ." she murmured, raising a trembling hand to wipe the blood from his cheek, or was it her own blood?

Her fingers barely brushed his skin before they fell limp.

Her final breath left her lips.

"XUE LI!"

Han Feng’s cry shattered the air.

He had ridden day and night to return, his heart pounding with urgency the moment he learned of the nobles’ treachery and the plan for a coup. But still—still—he had been too late.

Xue Li lay motionless in his arms. The warmth was already fading from her body.

For the first time in his life, Han Feng wept.

Memories of their first meeting flashed before his eyes.

A woman, pale and delicate, standing beneath the winter trees. Snowflakes dusting her hair, her fragile figure seeming almost ethereal against the barren landscape.

She had caught his attention then—soft, fleeting, like a single petal caught in the wind.

And now, just like that petal, she was gone.