So hot, so very hot. Sweat rolled down his cheeks and flowed into his chest, soaking his inner shirt.

The height of July’s scorching heat was the season when sweat poured most profusely. His inner shirt clung to his skin, his body feeling as if it had been steamed. The sweat turned to vapor, eager to escape but blocked by his short hemp outer garment.

Under the blazing sun and scorching canopy above, going shirtless wouldn’t be excessive. Yet at this moment, he wore not only a short outer garment but also an additional inner shirt, and incredibly, a cotton robe on top of that—a total of three layers: inner, middle, and outer. Sweat simmered within these layers, causing red heat rash to emerge on his back, itching unbearably yet impossible to scratch. For above these three layers of clothing was a thick vest, and outside the vest, a heavy suit of iron armor.

The iron armor was forged from refined steel, weighing at least ten pounds. Under the sun’s rays, it was stuffy, scalding, and heavy. Though tree shade clearly offered cooling relief by the roadside, this man paid it no heed. Looking at him with his head lowered and a smile at the corners of his mouth, it seemed as if standing motionless under the blazing sun was life’s supreme pleasure.

On such a sweltering day, only a madman would venture out wandering. This man’s behavior was bizarre, and his appearance quite strange too—not handsome yet not ugly either. In the sunlight, his features made him appear sometimes twenty-something, sometimes over forty. His face was baked red as fire and charred as coal, making his eye whites appear extraordinarily bright and spirited.

At noon, when the sun was most vicious, despite being drenched in sweat, the madman looked perfectly content. Just as he was enjoying himself, thundering hoofbeats suddenly erupted behind him. A swift horse galloped from behind, kicking up clouds of yellow sand. The rider wore identical iron armor, his face red and slightly scorched, bearing such resemblance to the madman that they seemed like brothers.

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang! After the swift horse passed, gong sounds rang out. The madman sighed softly, knowing it was time to move again. He picked up an iron helmet from beside his feet and placed it on his head, then lifted a leather pouch and carefully counted its contents—twenty-four white-feathered arrows. This was clearly a quiver, which according to regulations should be strapped to his right thigh.

Hefting the quiver in his hand, it weighed at least ten pounds. Ten pounds was heavy, yet among all his gear, this was the lightest item. His iron armor weighed fifteen pounds, his infantry saber twenty-eight pounds, his shield twelve pounds, and his purple rattan bow hung diagonally across his back. The sword, arrows, and bow together totaled sixty-five pounds. Beyond this, he carried a large pack on his back containing twenty pounds of grain and four water skins, each holding four pounds of water, all strapped to his waist.

Wu wu wu wu… The gongs sounded loudly, followed by suona horns. After blowing for a while, they gradually ceased. The earth fell silent, then suddenly thunderous sounds erupted.

Boom step! Boom step! Boom boom step, boom boom step! Leather boots struck the ground, splashing ash and dirt. As one boot lifted, another stepped down behind it, and behind that, even more boots—all identical in design, their owners looking exactly alike. Every face was scorched by fire with bright eye whites, broad shoulders, and large hands and feet. Needless to say, these men weren’t madmen but soldiers, one after another.

Under the blazing sunlight, their faces’ crystallized salt from dried sweat sparkled like jewels. The soldiers were fully armed—rations, water, bows, arrows, and sabers—carrying what they ate and shouldering what they used, each bearing over a hundred pounds.

The unlucky ones also had to carry long spears and wolf’s teeth maces. The most unfortunate had to drag Hongwu cannons, bent and miserable under their burden.

Yet none of these tasks were the most exhausting. The most tiring job was at the front, where something held in hand could exhaust even an ox.

A long, slender wooden pole made of fir, about three zhang long and weighing less than ten pounds, yet when lifted with both hands felt like bearing a thousand-pound load because suspended from the pole’s top was something heavy as the Nine Provinces’ great cauldron.

Boom, boom, boom, boom! A fierce wind struck head-on, unfurling a cloth banner on the wooden pole, revealing two characters: left “sun,” right “moon.”

The Sun-Moon Banner! The rallying cry for expelling the Tatars! The leading officer raised his whip and called out the names of all soldiers in the field: “Zhengtong Army!”

Wu wu wu wu! Amid suona sounds, the entire field thunderously responded. Every soldier present, regardless of origin, gained dignity from these three characters. The leading officer pointed his whip skyward, indicating direction: “By Imperial decree, the entire army advances northwest to Sanyuan City!”

Boom step! Boom step! Boom boom step, boom boom step! The Zhengtong Army marched forth. Twenty-two thousand soldiers began their charge, dust flying, creating an awesome spectacle. Four great banners led the way—the Sun-Moon royal standard fluttering in the sky, accompanied by two commander flags. On the left was the current dynasty’s designation, on the right the army’s general designation. Behind them flew a massive crimson banner marking the troops’ division: Cangwu Four Guards.

The Zhengtong Army’s organization was vast. Apart from the Four Northern Border Garrisons, only this Cangwu Four Guards was stationed on the frontier. They had another common name: the Cangyuan Tiangao Division. This division commanded four guards—elite troops dispatched by the court to Usang. They could reach heaven’s lonely peaks above and deep ravines below. Their physical strength far exceeded ordinary men, so each could bear a hundred pounds and march a hundred li without anyone falling behind or complaining.

The Zhengtong Army had a saying: “Born in Cangwu, die at the Northern Border.” Whenever new recruits enlisted, they would first be sent to Usang. After three years of solid training, they could transfer to frontline positions—Jingzhou, Tongguan, Hanzhong—wherever they chose. After another three years, if they returned safely, they could transfer to the Northern Border to live out their years without suffering on the front lines again. Hence: “Born in Cangwu, die at the Northern Border.”

Since the Zhengtong Army’s founding, the Cangwu Four Guards had always served as reserve troops, never deployed to the front lines. But current circumstances were different. A month ago, the court urgently summoned them from Tibet—clearly some major event had occurred.

Boom step! Boom step! Boom boom step, boom boom step! Amid flying dust, twenty thousand soldiers marched in perfect step, mile after mile, stage after stage. In the thunderous trampling, orders suddenly came from ahead: “Entire army, form ranks! Prepare to engage the enemy!” Upon hearing the command, all soldiers immediately spread to both sides, some drawing bows and arrows, others unsheathing swords. Just as they formed strict battle formation, a banner appeared ahead bearing the inscription “Fenzhou.”

“Fenzhou Desert Division!” The soldiers cheered in unison, knowing friendly forces had arrived first.

The Fenzhou Three Guards roamed the Zijingguan area, known as the Fenzhou Desert Division. Most soldiers were of Mongol-Han mixed blood. Their commanding general was surnamed Hu, named Hu Dachi—brave and skilled in battle, wielding a three-pointed, double-edged blade and riding a strange two-humped camel. He claimed descent from the Sun Khan, loving Grand Commander Wu most, fighting second, and drinking third.

Seeing friendly forces ahead, the Cangwu Four Guards sheathed their weapons. Their commander rode forward shouting: “Cangwu Division Commander Xiong Jie here! Where is General Hu?” This Cangwu Division commander was surnamed Xiong, given name Jie, twenty-five or twenty-six years old. He loved reading most in life, handsome and upright with scholarly bearing.

The two divisions met in the wasteland—one the Cangwu Tiangao Division, the other the Fenzhou Desert Division. But though Xiong Jie called out several times, the friendly forces remained motionless. He immediately spurred his horse forward shouting: “General Hu! I am Xiong Jie! Please show yourself!” As soon as he finished speaking, sand grated as a rider flew from the opposite formation with strange speed, swift as lightning, seemingly harboring ill intent. The Cangwu Four Guards were greatly alarmed and prepared to draw bows against the enemy, but Xiong Jie waved his hand shouting: “It’s fine! He’s one of us!”

Racing toward them was a large two-humped camel carrying an armored man with disheveled hair, looking like a wild man—who else but Hu Dachi? He called out: “Little Brother Xiong! Is that you?” Xiong Jie spurred his horse forward with a laugh: “Brother Hu! It’s been years since we last met!”

As the two riders drew close, Hu Dachi suddenly raised his hand, his blade flashing as it reached Xiong Jie’s neck. Xiong Jie was shocked: “Brother Hu, you… what is this—”

Seeing their commander attacked, the Cangwu Four Guards immediately drew their swords without question. The Fenzhou Three Guards also shouted and gripped their blades. Both sides faced off with weapons drawn, like an internal rebellion. Xiong Jie was terrified, not knowing what to do, when Hu Dachi sheathed his saber and said mildly: “Don’t take offense, Little Brother Xiong. This was a lesson for you.”

“A lesson?” Xiong Jie felt somewhat displeased and asked solemnly: “What do you mean?” Hu Dachi replied calmly: “Next time you see friendly banners, don’t be rash. Remember to send envoys to observe and verify credentials first. Otherwise, if you encounter bandits in disguise, would you still have your life?” Xiong Jie gasped in realization and bowed: “Thank you for Brother Hu’s instruction. Xiong Jie is enlightened.”

Hu Dachi said: “Learn from experience—be more careful in future.” He pursed his lips in a whistle, and the great camel immediately knelt down. Seeing him dismount, Xiong Jie couldn’t be impolite and also jumped down from his horse.

This Hu Dachi was the General Commander of Fenzhou Guard. With his bristling beard and Mongol-Han mixed heritage, his appearance was extremely bold, truly carrying some of the Sun Khan’s heroic bearing. Xiong Jie was no less impressive—though beardless, he stood over eight feet tall with a broad chest and thick arms, handsome and dignified. Standing beside Hu Dachi, he showed no sign of weakness.

Seeing the two commanders reconciled, the Fenzhou Three Guards sheathed their blades and offered water bottles to their friendly forces. The Cangwu Four Guards remained somewhat shaken—partly fearing bullying by veterans, partly feeling anxious on their first approach to the front lines—so they stayed close to their commander, ready to protect him at all times. Knowing they were nervous, Hu Dachi decided to play a small joke. He suddenly pointed forward and shouted angrily: “Look! The Rage King’s main force!” “What!” The Cangwu Four Guards were all shocked, looking at each other before drawing their weapons and shouting: “Kill!” In rolling dust clouds, the soldiers charged forward, ready to stake their lives in battle. Hu Dachi laughed heartily: “Silly boys, just kidding around with you.” Hearing this, Xiong Jie became furious and grabbed Hu Dachi’s beard, shouting sternly: “War is deadly serious! Making such jokes? Aren’t you afraid of military justice?” Hu Dachi was of barbarian descent—cheerful and easygoing, always playing and fooling around. But with military law paramount, whether barbarian, Han, Miao, or Tibetan, everyone had only one head to lose. Hearing Xiong Jie threaten military justice, he panicked: “Don’t be angry, don’t be angry! The frontier battle has already been decided.” Xiong Jie grew suspicious: “Decided? Really?” Hu Dachi hastily replied: “Really, really! The battle was settled five days ago. Otherwise, would I have the guts to joke with that fellow’s name?” Xiong Jie thought this made sense and released Hu’s beard: “Has the Grand Commander received word?” Hu Dachi said: “Long ago—he’ll arrive at the front lines shortly.” The soldiers were delighted and shouted in unison: “The Grand Commander is coming to inspect?” Hu Dachi laughed: “Sanyang Town isn’t far from his hometown. The Grand Commander’s heart yearns for his birthplace, so of course he must come see.” Xiong Jie nodded, knowing Grand Commander Wu originated from Xiliang and had been a famous government constable in his early years, capturing criminals and exposing conspiracies with righteous integrity. Later, to oppose the treacherous minister Jiang Chong, he traveled thousands of li to join former dynasty minister, the virtuous Marquis Liu Angtian. His lifelong gallantry and righteousness led to today’s great enterprise. Just as he was feeling admiration, another thought occurred: “Wait, when the Grand Commander personally comes to the front lines, what troops will escort him?” Hu Dachi chuckled: “Don’t worry—the Jingzhou Division has been ordered north.” Hearing “Jingzhou Division,” Xiong Jie exclaimed in shock: “What? My brother is coming too?” Hu Dachi laughed heartily: “Look how happy you are! When your big brother heard the Grand Commander left the capital, he immediately led troops north from Jingzhou that very night. If you’d been any later, he’d have reached here before you!” In the Zhengtong Army were the Big and Little Xiong—Big Xiong was named Xiong Jun, nicknamed the “Jingzhou Lion.” He was the eldest son, stationed in Jingzhou, among the first batch of veteran recruits. Little Xiong was the Xiong Jie before them. The brothers were separated—one in Jingzhou, one in Usang—and hadn’t seen each other for two years. Unexpectedly, thanks to the Grand Commander’s presence, they could meet here today.

After talking for a while, everyone remounted and formed ranks, heading straight for the front lines. Sitting on his horse and gazing ahead, Xiong Jie asked: “Brother Hu, was the fighting very fierce this time?” Hu Dachi replied in surprise: “How did you know?” Xiong Jie said: “I guessed. Look—the Cangwu Division is stationed at the world’s edge, yet the court summoned us out. If the battle situation weren’t extremely urgent, why would they need us?”

Though the Usang troops were young, they were literate and articulate, skilled in both civil and military arts with great potential, earning Grand Commander Wu Dingyuan’s regard. Hu Dachi sighed: “You’re right. This past month has been fought in chaos—daylight raids and nighttime camp attacks. Everyone’s been without food or sleep. If the commanders of Ningwu and Fengwu hadn’t died, the court wouldn’t have summoned you from Tibet for reinforcement.”

The officers were shocked and instinctively grasped their sword hilts, stepping back. Hu Dachi quickly said: “Don’t worry, don’t worry! Five days ago, all divisions gathered at Sanyang Town. The bandits couldn’t withstand the fierce assault and retreated at dawn.” Xiong Jie pondered: “All divisions gathered? How many troops came in total?” Hu Dachi replied: “Two hundred forty thousand.” Everyone exclaimed in shock: “Two hundred forty thousand?”

Hu Dachi counted on his fingers: “In this battle, twelve divisions and forty-eight guards arrived. Those riding camels are our ‘Fenzhou Desert Division,’ those on horses are the Hanzhong Light Cavalry Division, those on foot are the ‘Ningwu Guard’ and ‘Fengwu Guard.’ Including your Cangwu Division, the total is indeed two hundred forty thousand troops.”

Everyone was secretly horrified, realizing the battle’s intensity far exceeded imagination. Just then, they noticed a fallen stone tablet by the roadside, its characters black and dirty, barely legible. An officer wiped it with his boot sole, clearly revealing three characters: “Sanyang Town.”

Xiong Jie whispered: “Brother Hu, is this a boundary marker?” Hu Dachi replied: “Correct. Past this stone tablet is the front line.”

Since joining the Zhengtong Army, this was the officers’ first time reaching a battlefield. Everyone fell solemn, and silence reigned.

Hu Dachi led the way as everyone followed quietly. Upon entering the town, they immediately smelled putrid decay. The ground was covered with corpses—judging by their uniforms, all garrison troops, arranged in neat rows, but with severed limbs and bloody flesh. Seeing flies buzzing and maggots writhing, even the Cangwu Four Guards, who prided themselves as warriors, couldn’t help but change color, with many vomiting publicly.

Everything has a first time. Years ago, when Hu Dachi first reached the front lines and saw corpses everywhere, he was so frightened his knees went weak and he couldn’t walk. Seeing the newcomers’ disgrace now, he felt no inclination to mock. Just as he was sighing, several officers approached, calling: “Which one is Xiong Jie?”

The Zhengtong Army was never formal—seeking someone was like calling a dog. But Xiong Jie was a man of letters and martial arts. He clicked his boots together, bowed with clasped fists, and said solemnly: “This humble general is Xiong Jie. May I ask who you gentlemen are?” The man replied: “We’re officers from the Hanwu Guard, wanting to borrow some monk-soldiers.”

Xiong Jie frowned: “Monk-soldiers?” Hu Dachi leaned over and whispered: “They want to perform religious rites.” Xiong Jie immediately understood and said hastily: “No monk-soldiers, but plenty of Tibetan soldiers. Will they do?” The officer said: “Anyone who can chant sutras will do.”

Tibetans were devout Buddhists, piously worshipping from childhood. Everyone could recite scriptures, and many carried Buddhist paintings and thangkas, naturally able to chant rebirth mantras. Knowing he couldn’t delay, Xiong Jie quickly assembled his troops and followed the two officers.

Arriving at the Hanwu main camp, they saw a small mountain ahead piled with corpses. The ground was covered with kindling, ready for cremation.

The Hanwu Guard was light cavalry—when they suffered casualties, it wasn’t just men who died but horses too. With the hot weather, if the corpses weren’t burned immediately, plague would break out. No wonder they urgently sought monk-soldiers for religious rites.

The two commanders met and exchanged courtesies. Seeing their heavy casualties, Xiong Jie didn’t know what to say and only instructed his subordinates to quickly perform funeral rites for the dead souls. Large numbers of Tibetan soldiers covered their noses, approached the corpses, unfolded their thangkas, and began chanting sutras with “yi yi ah ah” sounds. A soldier holding a torch asked Xiong Jie: “Has Buddha come to guide them?”

Tibetan was profound—no one understood what they were chanting. Xiong Jie naturally didn’t know where Buddha was either and whispered: “Wait a bit longer.” Mosquitoes and flies buzzed annoyingly. The Hanwu commander sat on the ground in a daze, his expression blank, knowing nothing. Hu Dachi whispered: “Don’t wait—light the fire quickly.”

Several soldiers ignited the kindling and threw it into the corpse pile. Instantly, fierce flames leaped high, sending forth waves of burning stench.

Amid the sutra chanting, a human life was gone. The sea of fire consumed the soldiers’ bodies, soon to be placed in urns for comrades to carry home. Six months later, their families would receive an urn plus fifty taels of silver.

County officials would send elegiac couplets, village elders would speak kind words, wives would later remarry, children would take new surnames. As for why this man fought and died—only heaven knew.

Xiong Jie’s eyes filled with tears as he slowly knelt. Hu Dachi said: “Brothers, all kneel together.” All officers and soldiers prostrated themselves, bidding farewell to their fallen comrades.

Seeing Xiong Jie cry, Hu Dachi pulled him up: “Come on, nothing good to see here. Let’s go rest.”

The two came to a shady spot and sat down. Hu Dachi patted Xiong Jie: “Brother, war is like this—life and death are fate, accept the gamble and the loss. Nothing to cry about.” He lifted his water bottle and drank deeply, while Xiong Jie said numbly: “Yes, life and death are heaven’s will. Maybe I’ll be next.” Hu Dachi spat out a mouthful of water and cursed: “Bullshit!” He raised his hand and slapped Xiong Jie’s back hard, shouting: “Say something auspicious! Your big brother’s coming—why look so gloomy?”

Xiong Jie took the water bottle, drank deeply, and sighed: “Brother Hu, do you know how this whole thing started?” Hu Dachi cursed: “Wasn’t it just a popular rebellion?” Xiong Jie pondered: “Popular rebellion? Isn’t Sanyuan City garrisoned by troops? How couldn’t they control the situation?” Hu Dachi replied resentfully: “Garrison troops are straw soldiers—eating, drinking, and gossiping. Haven’t you heard?”

Xiong Jie smiled bitterly: “Since garrison troops are useless, why didn’t local officials request our aid earlier?” Hu Dachi sighed: “You think too well of them. These county officials are worthless—all day they only think about currying favor for promotion. When trouble arises, it’s always those eight characters: ‘Make big problems small, small problems disappear.’ You want them to report upward? That’s shooting themselves in the foot!”

The world’s civil officials have an eight-character motto: “Claim credit, shirk blame.” With seven wives total, good posts they take for themselves, common people fend for themselves. When heaven sends rain, it’s called flood; when heaven withholds rain, it’s called drought. Heaven is cruel and heartless—what connection to this official’s virtuous administration? As for how Qin Zhonghai commits evil or how criminals murder, heaven supervises—why should this official interfere?

Knowing this was true, Xiong Jie could only sigh deeply: “What happened next? If county officials wouldn’t report upward, how did the news get out?” Hu Dachi said: “The night Sanyuan fell, disaster victims surrounded the Provincial Administration Commissioner’s office, beating everyone they saw. Several Western Region merchants saw things going badly and fled to Hanzhong. The ‘Hanwu Three Guards’ finally realized something terrible had happened and immediately sent troops for relief that very night.”

The Hanwu Three Guards stationed in Hanzhong were the Zhengtong Army’s light cavalry—swift and excellent at field battles. Xiong Jie perked up: “Now the situation should be decided, right?” Hu Dachi sighed: “What are you thinking? Have you forgotten who Nu Cang sent to Hanzhong?” Xiong Jie murmured: “Who?” Hu Dachi sighed: “Iron Sword震天南.”

Xiong Jie exclaimed in shock: “Iron Sword Shaking Heaven South? You mean that old man with the iron sword?” Hu Dachi replied: “That’s him. This Li Tieshan is one of the Five Tiger Generals, skilled at charging formations. Our military commanders often die under his single blade when engaging him—extremely formidable. Seeing Old Bandit Li appear, the ‘Hanwu Three Guards’ didn’t dare fight him directly and could only request aid from nearby Jiayuguan. Who knew this would attract another demon.” Xiong Jie quickly asked: “Who?” Hu Dachi replied: “The one with the square-sky painted halberd.”

As the two talked, Xiong Jie’s subordinates gradually gathered, all listening to the conversation. Xiong Jie said in horror: “Xiliang Little Lubu? Even he came?” Hu Dachi sighed: “This Han Yi has a Red Hare horse that travels a thousand li daily. While the ‘Ningwu’ and ‘Fengwu’ dual guards were still squatting in latrines, he’d already appeared at the front lines, defeating our army badly. Seeing all of Shaanxi Province in danger, the Provincial Administration Commissioner knew paper couldn’t wrap fire and finally issued the ‘Zhengtong Decree,’ requesting aid from all forces under heaven. Our headquarters immediately received the message and split forces two ways—gathering troops from beyond the passes while sending orders to the front lines for the ‘Tongguan Six Garrisons’ to march.”

The Tongguan Six Garrisons were stationed permanently on the northwest frontier—elite among elites, unmatched in the Zhengtong Army. Xiong Jun rejoiced greatly: “Excellent! With the Tongguan Six Garrisons coming, who in the world can oppose them?” Hu Dachi cursed: “Are you stupid? If I haven’t even appeared yet and it’s already over, where’s the fight?” Xiong Jie asked in amazement: “What? Nu Cang… Nu Cang still has reinforcements?”

Hu Dachi sighed: “Many! One elder in the east, one marshal in the north, plus countless hall masters and fierce generals. Anyway, when the Tongguan Six Garrisons marched, Nu Cang’s main stronghold also lit beacon fires and deployed a hundred thousand troops. Of course, we couldn’t show weakness, so we deployed the ‘Fenzhou Desert Division,’ ‘Weizhou Leopard Head Division,’ and ‘Lingzhou Black Armor Division.’ In short, both sides’ forces grew larger as they fought. By the end, we had no available troops left and could only summon you newcomers from Tibet.”

Xiong Jie nodded silently, finally remembering that the Nu bandits had the so-called “Two Heroes, Three Champions, Four Pacifications.” These two great marshals of northeast—one surnamed Lu, one surnamed Shi—were the two founding elders of Nu Cang. When the Zhengtong Decree was issued, demon fires likely blazed atop Black Peak as well. With one side pouring forth everything and the other advancing wave after wave, the fighting inevitably became devastating with corpses piled like mountains.

A soldier said: “General Hu, everything happens for a reason. How exactly did this popular rebellion start? It couldn’t have been soldiers forcibly seizing common women, could it?” Hu Dachi snapped angrily: “Bullshit! Sanyang Town is poor and bitter—everyone’s black and scrawny. Where are the beautiful women to seize? Do you think all soldiers are beasts?”

The young soldier was slightly embarrassed: “If so, why did the people rebel?” Hu Dachi sighed: “A basket of flower rolls.”

“What? A basket of flower rolls?” All officers and soldiers were astonished, thinking they’d misheard. Hu Dachi was too lazy to explain and just spat on the ground—”Bah, bad luck.”

Everyone looked at each other in bewilderment. Flower rolls were ordinary pastries—a bamboo basket worth only a few copper coins. Yet the court had successively deployed Ningwu, Hanwu, Tongguan Six Garrisons and other forces, later even summoning garrison troops from Usang, causing a hundred divisions to battle with endless beacon fires—all for a mere basket of flower rolls?

In drought and heat, with difficult harvests, any strange event could occur. Xiong Jie wanted to ask more, but Hu Dachi wouldn’t say, only: “Anyway, the chaos is quelled and we’ve recaptured Sanyuan City—not a wasted effort. But there were considerable civilian casualties requiring some comfort.” As he spoke, soldiers pushed up two large carts piled with steaming hot pastries—all freshly steamed flower rolls.

Xiong Jie made a sound of surprise: “Brother Hu, what are you—” Hu Dachi replied: “I need to trouble your troops to go comfort the disaster victims.” Xiong Jie said: “Brother Hu, it’s not that I’m shirking, but my army has traveled far and this is our first time at the front lines. We’re unfamiliar with people and places and fear mishaps. Could Brother Hu perhaps request someone else more capable?”

“No.” Hu Dachi’s expression grew serious: “All other divisions find it inconvenient to show their faces—only you can be troubled.”

Xiong Jie gasped but understood the reasoning. This great battle had been extremely fierce, with all armies fighting intensely at Sanyang Town, inevitably creating misunderstandings with local residents. If Hu Dachi and others went to provide comfort, it might add fuel to fire—only the Usang troops could handle this task.

Thinking this, Xiong Jie couldn’t refuse further and requested two scouts from Hu Dachi as guides before leading the entire army into town.

Sanyang Town wasn’t far from Xiliang City. This battle had left the area completely scorched. No wonder the Grand Commander, feeling kinship with fellow townspeople, wanted to personally inspect. But this place was truly impoverished—no one knew its past history or what famous people it had produced. They saw only broken walls and ruins, with bloodstains and fire damage on the ground, while distant crying could be faintly heard, leaving hearts confused.

As Xiong Jie explored along the way, he saw that houses on all sides had completely collapsed, not knowing if any living people remained. After walking about half a street, there was finally a half-collapsed house ahead with faint sobbing sounds from within. Xiong Jie felt compassion and quickly peered inside, seeing an old man leading his children and family huddled in a corner, crying sorrowfully as if they had lost some relative.

Knowing this household had suffered greatly and fearing to frighten them, Xiong Jie first removed his saber, took a bamboo basket, placed about ten flower rolls in it, then entered the broken house and said gently: “Elder, this humble general has been ordered by the court to specially deliver food provisions.”

The old man hung his head sobbing, his body trembling slightly, making no response. Xiong Jie said softly: “Elder, this costs nothing. Please accept it quickly.” After he spoke several sentences, the old man still trembled. Xiong Jie sighed and placed the bamboo basket on the ground. Just as he was about to turn and leave, the bamboo basket was suddenly picked up and thrown at his back.

“Get out! Get out!” A woman threw while cursing: “Who wants your things! Take your stinking flower rolls and get out! Go away! Go away!”

Flower rolls flew everywhere as several children also cried and shouted, grabbing stones to throw.

Xiong Jie’s martial arts were superb—being hit by several stones caused no serious harm. But many officers grew angry, hands on sword hilts, glaring and shouting: “What are you doing? Want to rebel again?” Hearing the word “rebel,” this family somehow began crying with their heads in their hands. The woman picked up a bamboo pole and sobbed angrily: “I do want to rebel! What will you do? Come kill me!”

Several officers were indignant and about to step forward to argue, but Xiong Jie blocked them, saying: “Enough.”

“Enough fighting.” All soldiers felt a chill and simultaneously released their sword hilts. Xiong Jie picked up the bamboo basket from the ground, quietly placed it by the door, and said softly: “Let’s go.”

Everyone followed Xiong Jun away. Looking along the route, they saw houses throughout the street—some collapsed, some burned, every household with crying sounds. Whenever soldiers encountered disaster victims, they would approach to offer food and express condolences. But the flower rolls personally presented were unwanted by anyone, and no one was willing to speak. Only the looks in their eyes expressed everything in their hearts.

As if a lone army had penetrated deep into enemy territory, everything felt wrong. In the past, the Cangwu Division had been permanently stationed on the frontier, maintaining public and private relations with the Usang people—the army loved the people, the people respected the army, and all got along harmoniously. Who knew that coming down to flat land, they would encounter such hateful, poisonous gazes.

All officers and soldiers felt dejected and dispirited. Hu Dachi’s two subordinates, however, were accustomed to this and said to Xiong Jie: “Don’t bother with these people. Quickly distribute the flower rolls—the Grand Commander is coming to inspect soon.”

Hearing that the Grand Commander would arrive soon, everyone’s morale lifted. Xiong Jie also smiled slightly, knowing that when the Grand Commander arrived, his brother Xiong Jun would also lead troops north. The brothers hadn’t seen each other for years—tonight would surely be lively. He gathered his spirits again, waiting to finish the official business.

As they walked, they suddenly saw a mother and child kneeling on the ground, stroking a corpse while weeping. The corpse still tightly gripped a blade in its hand—apparently a bandit rebel killed by the Zhengtong Army.

Seeing disaster victims appear, all officers stopped. But remembering the poisonous gazes they’d just seen, they felt somewhat afraid and no one dared approach. Hu Dachi’s subordinates were all veterans and whispered: “General Xiong, these are rebels’ widows. No need to waste food on them.” Xiong Jie hesitated thoughtfully, then suddenly said: “No.” The two old soldiers frowned: “Why not?” Xiong Jie gazed at the mother and child: “Rebels are also people.”

Rebels are also people. Court warriors should never be enemies of the common people. Since they came under the Son of Heaven’s mandate, they followed Heaven’s principle.

Even if beaten and insulted by the people, they must complete their duties according to regulations.

Having accomplished nothing all day, Xiong Jie secretly resolved that no matter what humiliation he faced, he would deliver the food to the disaster victims.

He approached the mother and child, carefully picked up the bamboo basket, but before he could present it, he was spat upon in the face. Xiong Jie gritted his teeth slightly, then knelt on one knee, bowing to the ground and saying loudly: “This humble general Xiong Jie! Specially following our Emperor’s command to distribute food! Please, madam, for the sake of our Grand Commander, you must accept this!”

Upon hearing “Grand Commander,” the mother and child immediately burst into loud weeping, picking up bamboo poles to beat and strike Xiong Jie. All subordinates rushed forward shouting: “General Xiong! Let’s go! These people don’t know good from bad—why waste words with them!”

For a warrior to accept being spat upon—this was unheard of in the Jingtai Dynasty, yet it befell the Zhengtong Dynasty and Zhengtong Army. Xiong Jie still wouldn’t give up. He knelt very low, gritting his teeth and pleading: “Madam, please accept these things. This humble general is sincere.”

A full basket of flower rolls represented the court’s sincere intentions from top to bottom. But the woman stubbornly refused to accept them—what could Xiong Jie do? Both troubled and worried, fearing the mother and child would suffer hunger, he had no choice but to boldly take the woman’s hand and carefully offer the flower rolls.

The woman had been sobbing, but once Xiong Jie grasped her hand, she immediately screamed shrilly. As they struggled, his troops suddenly cried in alarm: “General! Retreat quickly!” Under everyone’s horrified gaze, they saw the woman crying pitifully. She dropped the flower rolls in her hand, then grabbed the blade her husband had left behind and fiercely stabbed toward Xiong Jie.

“Madam! Don’t act rashly! Drop the blade! Drop it!” Officers on both sides shouted in alarm. The blade was less than a foot from his chest—too close to dodge. Yet Xiong Jie still refused to counterattack, only closing his eyes tightly and bowing to the ground, as if believing the woman would never kill him.

Zhengtong Army officers should never be enemies of the common people. As the blade pressed closer, Xiong Jie stubbornly kept his head down without moving. Officers on both sides shouted in panic to stop the woman, but she wouldn’t listen to persuasion. Amid her sobbing cries, the blade had nearly reached his throat. Seeing Xiong Jie’s life hanging by a thread, Hu Dachi’s subordinates roared angrily: “What are you waiting for? Kill her!”

“Strike!” A blade flashed, the woman’s crying was cut short, and she fell to the ground. Fresh blood seeped from beneath her clothes, and flower rolls scattered on the ground, all stained with blood.

Xiong Jie suddenly raised his head, seeing this scene, and couldn’t help opening his mouth wide. He never imagined the woman truly intended to kill him. Even more unimaginable was that his insistence on delivering a basket of flower rolls had cost the woman her life. But what should he have done? If he couldn’t even deliver a basket of flower rolls, what else could he accomplish? He was a court official!

Full of self-reproach, he bent forward to examine the corpse when he suddenly heard a loud shout: “Don’t touch my mother!”

A small figure pounced over, lying on his mother’s corpse and wailing loudly. Xiong Jie bit his teeth in anguish, about to embrace the child, when he heard a sharp scream—the child had taken the steel blade from his mother’s hand. Everyone was shocked and horrified: “Little devil! Don’t touch that blade!”

This family came one after another in succession. Seeing both parents dead, the child nearly went mad and stabbed with the blade. All generals shouted and drew their swords to strike immediately. Xiong Jie was terrified and immediately turned to shield the child, shouting sternly: “No one is allowed to touch him!”

As the words reached his lips, his body suddenly swayed. Xiong Jie looked down to see fresh blood seeping from his vest, a blade tip protruding from his chest. He spat blood and slowly turned around to see the child hiding behind him, holding the steel blade and glaring at him with a face full of venomous hatred.

Officers and soldiers on both sides shouted excitedly, all wanting to kill the child. Xiong Jie gave a sharp shout and spread his arms to block them, then knelt on one knee and slowly picked up a flower roll, offering it to the child again.

With Heaven above and Earth below, Xiong Jie had no other thoughts—his only wish at this moment was to deliver this flower roll.

His face showed a pleading expression, hoping the child would honor him with acceptance. But the child hatefully turned his head away, firmly refusing. Xiong Jie didn’t know what else to do. Looking at the flower roll in his hand, he suddenly put it in his own mouth and began eating.

“Fine, if you won’t eat it, then I’ll eat it myself.” Xiong Jie thought this way. As he chewed the flower roll he’d brought, he found the taste wasn’t bad at all. His face showed a slight smile as he planned to take another bite, when suddenly his body lost strength and his face touched the dust.

On a summer afternoon, hoofbeats rose and fell. From the hilltop, one could already see that crimson banner: Jingzhou Three Hundred Division.

In the third year of Zhengtong, the final reinforcements of June had arrived. This force was called the Three Hundred Division—not because Jingzhou maintained three hundred divisions, but because these warriors could endure hardship, bear a hundred pounds, march a hundred li at night, and had experienced a hundred battles—hence “Three Hundred Division.” Their commander was surnamed Xiong, given name Jun. Three years ago when the Zhengtong Army was founded, he was the first to pledge allegiance to the Grand Commander.

They say “poor scholars, rich warriors”—Xiong Jun came from a family of martial artists and was born with money. But since joining the military, he’d lived more frugally than anyone. His monthly salary was only eight qian, less than an inn’s server. Yet Xiong Jun never complained, because he wasn’t an inn server. With his skills, forget eight qian silver—even eighty taels or eight hundred taels wouldn’t move him.

Like the Zhengtong Army’s seventy-two officers, Xiong Jun had a vigorous story before enlisting. In his youth, he’d fallen in love with a girl from a neighboring village. But she was too beautiful and was kidnapped by Dongting water bandits. To rescue her, Xiong Jun single-handedly invaded their stronghold, killed a hundred bandits with spear and horse, then brazenly came to the government office to surrender himself, following Wu Song’s example.

All county officials were the same—they had no ability to catch bandits, but if someone else caught thieves for them, it inevitably touched on crimes and violated laws.

Seeing him with heads hanging from his waist and covered in blood, the county official was naturally scared out of his wits. He dared not convict Xiong Jun nor let him go, so he could only invite village elders to decide. The elders cried bitterly, fearing Xiong Jun might burn down the government office, so they hurriedly told him the story of Zhou Chu eliminating three evils, meaning he should quickly join the military to serve the country and not waste his great talents.

Xiong Jun wasn’t stupid—hearing their words, he immediately understood their intentions. These elders appeared righteous daily but privately schemed for land and harmed neighbors, more sinister than those bandits. Who wouldn’t want him to leave quickly? But Xiong Jun didn’t want to go—he wanted to marry his beloved and live peacefully raising chickens and ducks. So he excitedly went to propose marriage, but unfortunately things didn’t go as hoped. The girl refused to marry Xiong Jun even unto death—she feared that someday when Xiong Jun quarreled with her, he might use a knife to cut off her head just like Wu Song did to Pan Jinlian.

Xiong Jun shed tears. He couldn’t argue or guarantee he absolutely wasn’t Wu Song. He could only bid farewell to his parents, shoulder his pack alone, and leave his hometown with the name “Jingzhou Lion” to officially serve the court.

The court represents the world’s justice. Xiong Jun understood in his heart that this world was too vast—he couldn’t intervene in everything. If he wanted to accomplish something great in his lifetime, he must serve the court. Court officials must believe in justice and distinguish right from wrong. If the court fell, the entire world would be ruined.

Because of such aspirations, Xiong Jun never wanted to serve the factory guards nor join border troops for leisure. He voluntarily came to the Zhengtong Army to become Wu Dingyuan’s subordinate, believing the Grand Commander was a contemporary loyal minister. As long as he could protect him, he could preserve a thread of hope for all people under heaven. For this, some mocked Xiong Jun as a court lackey, others said he pretended to be noble just to fish for fame. No matter how others mocked, Xiong Jun didn’t care. He knew in his heart that there must be a fool in this world to serve the country—and that fool was him. If even he wavered, the entire world would be finished.

The weather was very hot. Two days ago, the great army departed from Jingzhou. Officers and soldiers had marched through the night—everyone was tired. Xiong Jun was also weary. He released the reins and was closing his eyes to rest when he suddenly heard intermittent suona sounds from afar.

“Wu wu—wu wu wu wu—” The suona sounds were intermittent—undoubtedly the Zhengtong Army’s signal. Friendly forces must be nearby. But Xiong Jun, veteran of a hundred battles, didn’t even look before saying: “Entire army disperse, prepare to engage the enemy.” Before he finished speaking, hoofbeats thundered ahead as a banner raced toward them shouting: “General Xiong! General Xiong!” Xiong Jun shouted sternly: “Draw full bowstrings!”

Ten thousand crossbows were drawn, arrow points toward the sky, a sheet of brilliant light flashing as the great army had already dispersed into formation. Just then, the swift horses suddenly stopped. Several soldiers dismounted and hastily abandoned their weapons, shouting: “General Xiong! We are from Fenzhou Three Guards, under General Hu Dachi! Ordered to come here and welcome the general!” Xiong Jun snorted and gave a look. Several scouts spurred their horses forward and shouted sternly: “Submit credentials for verification!”

The soldiers dared not disobey and carefully placed their credentials on the ground, then retreated a hundred feet. The scouts, as if facing great enemies, slowly picked them up and hurried back to formation. Xiong Jun received the credentials and rubbed his thumb directly under the iron plate, feeling the secret mark, then immediately said: “Cavalry dismount.”

With a whoosh, five thousand soldiers simultaneously dismounted in unison—an awesome spectacle. Xiong Jun said calmly again: “Rear archers guard the formation, others follow me forward.” With orders given, large numbers of soldiers drew their sabers and slowly advanced with their commander.

Over three years, the Jingzhou Division had encountered countless surprise attacks and ambushes. Even if credentials were genuine, envoys could be false; even if envoys were genuine, intentions could be false. One moment of carelessness could trap the entire army in encirclement. Therefore, when Xiong Jun reached the front lines, he always acted first and reported later—better to mistakenly kill friendly forces than let subordinates fall into encirclement.

Xiong Jun pulled the reins and rode all the way to the friendly forces. Those several soldiers kept their hands raised high, not daring to speak or move. Coming close, Xiong Jun didn’t dismount but swept his bright gaze across each soldier’s face, pausing slightly on one person: “You’re Old Fifth Zheng, right?” That soldier quickly replied: “The general has a good memory—I am indeed surnamed Zheng.”

Hearing the visitor’s identity was correct, all officers and soldiers felt somewhat relieved and lowered their arrows. Xiong Jun said solemnly: “Jingzhou Division.” With these words, the entire army thunderously responded, their voices shaking the plains like thunderclaps on dry ground, formations once again orderly.

The Jingzhou Division had strict orders, worthy of the Three Hundred Division name. Friendly soldiers saw this but didn’t say much—since both were Zhengtong Army, everyone was accustomed to it. Xiong Jun said calmly: “How is the current battle situation?” Old Fifth Zheng replied: “Thanks to the general’s blessing, the fighting has already ceased.” He presented a document bearing the War Ministry’s great seal.

Seeing the War Ministry document arrive, Xiong Jun felt somewhat relieved and asked again: “Has the Grand Commander arrived?” Old Fifth Zheng replied: “Not yet.”

Xiong Jun breathed a sigh of relief. Having traveled all night, he’d finally arrived one step ahead of the Grand Commander—this could be called fulfilling his mission. Having not slept all night, he took some dried tea leaves from his waist pouch, threw them in his mouth to chew for alertness, and asked: “How many garrison troops are in town now?” Old Fifth Zheng answered: “From Sanyuan City counting several hundred li, a total of two hundred forty thousand.”

All officers turned their heads, and Xiong Jun also frowned slightly: “What’s going on? Why deploy so many troops?”

Old Fifth Zheng replied: “This battle was unprecedentedly fierce. Nu Cang deployed five great generals—Han, Li, Hao, Lu, and Shi—coming one after another. Both sides fought intensely for over a month. All garrison troops died in battle, and our Zhengtong Army casualties also exceeded thirty thousand.”

Xiong Jun squinted and slowly chewed tea stems: “How did this whole thing start?” Old Fifth Zheng replied: “A basket of flower rolls.”

Xiong Jun had been looking down, but hearing this, his eyes opened slightly: “Tens of thousands died for that?”

Old Fifth Zheng said nothing, only nodded toward the ground. Xiong Jun didn’t pursue further, chewed the tea leaves, and spat the juice on the ground: “What about your Fenzhou Guard? How many died?” Old Fifth Zheng replied: “Our army arrived late with few losses—only two thousand brothers died in battle.”

The Fenzhou Desert Division had only twenty-two thousand men—losing two thousand was already one in ten. Xiong Jun’s eyes narrowed even more: “What about Hu Dachi? Still alive?” Old Fifth Zheng replied: “Thanks to the general’s blessing, our commander is safe and sound. You’ll see him shortly.”

Xiong Jun breathed a great sigh of relief, his cold face showing a smile: “Good that he’s alive. That fellow Hu Dachi still owes me several hundred taels of silver. If he got killed, where would I collect the money?” Just as they were talking, a massive creature galloped over—a strange two-humped camel. From afar came shouting: “Is the newcomer Jingzhou’s Xiong Jun?”

Speak of Cao Cao and Cao Cao arrives! Seeing his old comrade-in-arms, Xiong Jun lost all dignity and simply laughed heartily: “Tiger! Long time no see!” While ordinary people have nicknames like Old Huang or Old Li, Hu Dachi was called “Tiger”—naturally a great honor and distinction. Xiong Jun raised his whip to strike his horse’s rump, unable to wait even a moment. Both riders charged toward each other, simultaneously dismounting at the same time, then embraced, calling out: “Old Bear!” and “Tiger!”

The two generals embraced as Xiong Jun looked his comrade up and down with uncontainable joy, laughing: “Your complexion looks good! Let me count—one, two, three, four—all your limbs are still there.” The Zhengtong Army were all men who loved to joke around in their spare time. Just as everyone expected Hu Dachi to laugh and say something like “You didn’t see the missing parts” or “I originally had eight legs,” today this fellow seemed to have taken the wrong medicine, only muttering and unable to speak. Xiong Jun laughed: “What’s wrong? Look at you sweating profusely—did your wife run off with someone again?”

The Zhengtong Army was stationed on the frontier—from officers down to soldiers, most were unmarried, so this was naturally a joke. But Hu Dachi, despite being teased, showed no smile on his face, only saying quietly: “Don’t joke around first. I have something to tell you.” Xiong Jun laughed: “Look at you acting all strange! Don’t tell me you’re really missing some body part?”

“The Cangwu Division…” Hu Dachi’s expression showed some panic: “They’ve arrived.” Xiong Jun was overjoyed: “The Cangwu Division has arrived! Then… then our little brother came too? Quick, tell me—where is he?” Hu Dachi said quietly: “He’s in camp.” Xiong Jun said cheerfully: “What auspicious day is today? Our brothers haven’t seen each other for two years! Good, I’ll first settle my troops, then find him for drinks later.” Just as he was about to direct his subordinates, Hu Dachi grabbed him: “General Xiong, you need to hurry…”

Xiong Jun said irritably: “Hurry what?” Hu Dachi hesitated, then suddenly bent down to support Xiong Jun’s armpit.

Xiong Jun was a famous tough guy in the army—even with ten arrows in his body, he wouldn’t need others’ support. He said irritably: “Tiger, what are you doing?” Full of displeasure, just as he was about to push Hu Dachi away, in an instant his heart felt strange: “Wait, you just said the Cangwu Division had arrived…” Hu Dachi silently lowered his head and said softly: “Everyone come protect General Xiong.”

In that instant, Xiong Jun understood everything. He made a sound and his legs went weak. Soldiers on both sides knew he was about to fall and quickly rushed forward to support him.

“Make way! Make way! Clear a path ahead!” Hu Dachi carried his comrade on his back, desperately pushing through the crowd. Xiong Jun’s lips slightly parted, his mind blank, lying dazed on Hu Dachi’s back, listening to his old friend constantly shouting angrily: “Don’t look! Don’t crowd here! Move aside! Quick!”

Many in the Zhengtong Army had experienced this scene, but it was Xiong Jun’s first time. Officers ahead stepped aside, looking at him with eyes full of sympathy, because everyone understood what this man was going through.

Xiong Jun lay dazed on his comrade’s back, seeing himself rush through the camp gate, step onto the camp carpets, and see a stretcher. Hu Dachi pounced over, desperately shaking someone’s shoulders and shouting: “Little Bear! Get up quickly! Your brother came to see you! Little Bear! Little Bear!” Just as he was shouting, an officer bent down and whispered: “Stop calling.”

Hu Dachi gasped and smiled bitterly: “Dead?” The officer said gently: “Just passed.”

Wind blew through the tent with a whooshing sound. No one in the entire place made a sound. Hu Dachi, all the officers, and even the small soldiers all wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say.

The Zhengtong Army was like this—even in life and death partings, they could only be mute. Seeing Xiong Jun lying on the ground with his face buried in the carpet, remaining silent for a long time. Officers slowly approached and said quietly: “General Xiong, please restrain your grief.” Xiong Jun took a deep breath and suddenly pushed up with both arms to stand.

Hu Dachi said anxiously: “Old Bear, you…” Xiong Jun shook his head, signaling he needn’t say more.

Xiong Jun wasn’t new to battlefields. Having fought for several years, he’d long anticipated this moment, so he and his brother had agreed that if such a day came, the two brothers would never shed a tear in front of others.

Under everyone’s gaze, Xiong Jun slowly walked to the stretcher, squatted down, and gazed at his brother, preparing to bid him farewell.

Not having seen his brother for two years, his appearance had become unfamiliar. He was much more tanned and considerably more robust than when they parted. You could see he had become a true Zhengtong Army soldier.

In the complete silence, Xiong Jun silently sat beside his brother, his expression showing some bewilderment and fatigue. He naturally knew his brother was dead, but he hadn’t shed a single tear and couldn’t even feel sadness. Truthfully, he was surprised at his own state of mind.

He couldn’t say why—perhaps the brothers had been separated too long, or perhaps he’d grown accustomed to life and death partings. In any case, all he could think about was tonight’s march and tomorrow’s return to defense. Whether his brother was dead or alive seemed to have nothing to do with him.

The earlier shock and bewilderment completely faded at this moment, replaced by pride in his little brother.

Seeing his wooden expression, officers on both sides quietly asked: “General Xiong, shall we take your brother away now?” Xiong Jun said: “Take him.” Officers stepped forward and slowly turned Xiong Jie’s body over, seeing his eyes tightly closed, head tilted to one side, still gripping half a flower roll in his hand, unfinished. Officers grasped his limbs and said in unison: “One, two…”

Just as they were about to lift him, they heard a sob. Everyone turned to see Xiong Jun behind them with his mouth agape, right arm stretched far out, as if trying to wake his brother.

Only at this final moment did Xiong Jun realize one thing—his brother truly would never move again. He would never cry or laugh again, never get up to talk with him. He would soon be cremated into tiny bone fragments, never to be seen again.

Xiong Jun cried. Despite not wanting to shed tears in front of others, he still sobbed audibly. He spread his arms wanting to embrace his brother’s corpse but couldn’t summon the strength. With Hu Dachi’s help, he finally took his brother from the soldiers’ hands and embraced him one last time. Hu Dachi watched the two brothers, wanting to say something comforting, but when words reached his lips, he too began to cry.

Since the Zhengtong Dynasty’s founding, Xiong Jun was among the first batch of jianghu figures to pledge allegiance. To eliminate the Nu bandits, he had taken great pains—not only persuading a group of good friends to join the army but also bringing his little brother to serve the country together. Naturally, he had also promised his aging parents that even if he himself was shattered to pieces, he would bring his brother home safely. Unfortunately, he had broken his word—he could only carry his brother’s ashes home.

Xiong Jun buried his face in his brother’s embrace, crying silently. An officer, fearing he might grieve excessively, slowly approached and gently persuaded: “General Xiong, the dead cannot return to life. You… you must restrain your grief…”

“Get lost!” Xiong Jun roared angrily, swinging his arm and creating a fierce wind. Everyone was greatly alarmed and stepped back.

With his back to everyone, Xiong Jun slowly wiped away his tears and said quietly: “Tiger, my brother… how did my brother die?”

Hu Dachi said: “Killed by Nu bandits.” Xiong Jun’s beard bristled as he turned around with effort and shouted sternly: “Nonsense!”

Xiong Jun was a battlefield veteran—no one could deceive him. His brother’s cause of death was a knife wound from behind. He hadn’t died trapped in battle, fighting with open weapons—he had died from a sneak attack after the great battle. He died very unjustly.

Seeing Xiong Jun’s eyes wide open with tears rolling in his sockets, everyone quickly lowered their heads, no one daring to meet his gaze. Xiong Jun suppressed his sobs and said word by word: “Tiger, tell me… how did my brother die?” Hu Dachi shook his head: “I’m sorry, I cannot say.”

Xiong Jun was extremely angry, grabbing his comrade’s collar and shouting sternly: “Why can’t you say?” His roar made everyone’s ears ring, but Hu Dachi remained unmoved and said softly: “Because you are a warrior under orders and cannot seek private revenge.”

With these words, all officers and soldiers in the field lowered their heads. Xiong Jun was also forced to release his grip. In the silence, only his old friend’s quiet voice could be heard: “Warriors are the nation’s weapons and the people’s protectors. As a court military officer, your sword belongs to the state. You absolutely cannot use public position for private revenge, otherwise you would…” Xiong Jun’s face streamed with tears as he sobbed: “Betray the original covenant.”

Hearing this, officers and soldiers on both sides felt compassion but had nothing to say. Nu bandits acted on impulse, walking the path of chivalrous justice, always killing for personal anger. The Zhengtong Army was different—they were court officials, born to obey orders. They couldn’t march for themselves or strike for private grudges. They were the nation’s sword, the people’s blade—they could only kill for the country. This was the destiny of being a warrior.

Dusk was approaching as the setting sun shone into the camp. Xiong Jun lowered his head, becoming a dim, dark shadow. At this moment, besides crying, he could do nothing else.

For the nation and people—forget Xiong Jun not being able to seek private revenge publicly. If one day Xiong Jie betrayed the court, though Xiong Jun was his elder brother, he would still have to obey orders and kill his own younger brother. This was the path he himself had chosen. No one was to blame.

For country and people, not having control over himself—Xiong Jun’s expression became somewhat dazed. He slowly removed his helmet and struck his head down hard. With a clang, the helmet was solidly made and undamaged, but its owner was already bleeding from the head. Undaunted, he raised his head to strike again. In the clanging sounds, the steel helmet gradually dented while blood splattered from his forehead.

“General Xiong! Stop this!” Everyone quickly stepped forward to restrain him, but Xiong Jun ignored them. In the pulling and tugging, Hu Dachi suddenly roared: “Enough, enough! Bring the person out.” Everyone looked at each other with hesitant expressions. Hu Dachi kicked over a low table and shouted sternly: “What are you afraid of? I’ll take responsibility if anything happens!”

An officer turned and left the tent, said a few words outside, and soldiers immediately brought out a person and delivered them to Xiong Jun.

The murderer had arrived. Even Xiong Jun, veteran of a hundred battles, was stunned upon seeing this person’s face.

Before him stood a child—small and thin, in ragged clothes, about ten years old, looking extremely helpless. Hu Dachi said: “Old Bear, your brother was ordered to provide disaster relief but unfortunately was stabbed to death by this child. But before you seek revenge, I must remind you…” He paused: “This child’s parents were also killed.”

The child before them was orphaned by war, his parents both dead. Xiong Jun’s chest heaved and his facial muscles trembled. Knowing he had moved him, Hu Dachi quietly continued: “Your brother was wholeheartedly seeking this child’s forgiveness. Even until his dying breath, he never changed his original intention.”

Xiong Jun said dazedly: “Seeking his forgiveness?” Hu Dachi said: “Yes. Your brother sought his pardon right until death.”

Xiong Jun’s tears fell as he said quietly: “Then what about us? Who will seek our forgiveness?” With these words, everyone lowered their heads—not one person could answer. An officer boldly stepped forward and whispered: “General Xiong, the state has its laws and families have their rules. Moreover, the dead cannot return to life. Please restrain your grief and let the Grand Commander deal with this child…”

Xiong Jun angrily said: “Get lost!” Waving his hand, he pushed the officer away, then walked before the child and said quietly: “Little brother, I don’t want to hear others speak. I want you to say it yourself.” Pointing at Xiong Jie’s corpse, word by word: “Did you kill this person?”

The child had been somewhat timid, head lowered for a long while, then suddenly shouted loudly: “Yes! I killed him! What do you want to do about it?”

Xiong Jun raised his head, struggling to suppress his tears. After a long while, he said hoarsely: “Tell me why you wanted to kill him?”

The child raised his head and shouted: “Why wouldn’t I kill him!” All officers and soldiers were shaken, and Xiong Jun was also stunned. He opened his mouth wide, was dazed for a long while, then suddenly burst into loud laughter.

For country and people, bidding farewell to parents to come to this distant, unknown foreign land, enduring countless hardships—who knew it would end up like this?

Xiong Jun laughed for quite a while before finally lowering his face, pointing at the corpse on the stretcher: “Little brother, do you know who he was?” The child shouted loudly: “I don’t care who he was! You all look exactly the same!” Xiong Jun’s tears poured forth as he sobbed: “He was my brother.” With a reverse motion, he drew the murder weapon from Xiong Jie’s corpse and slashed toward the child’s throat.

Hu Dachi closed his eyes, and onlookers also turned their heads away. But at this moment, an iron hand reached out from mid-air, grasped Xiong Jun’s hand, and with slight force took away his steel blade.

“Grand Commander!” All generals cried out in surprise and joy. Behind them stood a man like an iron tower with a square face marked by wind and frost—this was the Longshou Grand Commander, heir of Tianshan, Wu Dingyuan. His iron hand was like a giant clamp—with slight pressure on Xiong Jun, he rendered him immobile.

In the third year of Zhengtong, at dusk in June, Wu Dingyuan finally reached Sanyuan City. Under everyone’s gaze, Xiong Jun was forced to release the blade and kneel before the Grand Commander’s authority.

“Come!” Wu Dingyuan said solemnly: “Take Xiong Jun and Hu Dachi outside the camp and give them each one hundred military lashes.”

With the order given, large numbers of subordinates rushed forward, pressing Xiong Jun and Hu Dachi to the ground and removing their steel helmets and iron armor. Wu Dingyuan surveyed all around, his expression like a stern deity: “Xiong Jun, you sought public revenge for private grievances. Hu Dachi, you showed favoritism and connivance. You two have violated military law and should be executed. Yet I only punish you with one hundred lashes each. Do you know why?”

Hu Dachi said nothing, and Xiong Jun only looked down at the ground without a word. Wu Dingyuan softened his expression and said: “I’ve heard the whole story. ‘In killing, the head merely touches the ground.’ Even if you killed this child today, your brother couldn’t come back to life. Similarly, if I killed you both, I couldn’t save the innocent civilians who died. Heaven has the virtue of cherishing life—I want both sides to give way and forgive each other.”

Hearing this, Xiong Jun suddenly opened his eyes wide and said dazedly: “In killing, the head merely touches the ground?” Seeing Wu Dingyuan nod, Xiong Jun suddenly raised his head and roared loudly: “Wu—Ding—Yuan!”

Officers and soldiers in the camp were startled to see Xiong Jun’s eyes red with moisture as he pointed at his brother’s corpse and said quietly: “Wu Dingyuan, tell me what kind of person he was?” Wu Dingyuan didn’t answer, only turning his head away. Xiong Jun sobbed: “He was a warrior, a warrior who fought for you! You keep saying heaven has the virtue of cherishing life—here I ask you…” He reached out to grab Wu Dingyuan’s collar and cried out sternly: “For whom do we kill?”

“Ahhhhhhh!” With tears streaming down his face and eyes wide with fury, Xiong Jun suddenly lunged forward and heavily struck Wu Dingyuan’s nose bridge.

“Stop!” Everyone was shocked to see the Grand Commander’s nose bridge struck, his upper body leaning back slightly. Over ten officers rushed over to pull Xiong Jun away. These military officers were all martial artists—though Xiong Jun was immensely strong, he couldn’t resist them all. With his limbs seized and pressed to the ground, he suddenly struggled forward and tightly embraced his brother’s corpse, crying out in anguish: “Zhengtong—Army—!” The voice, full of grief and pain, carried far. Officers shouted in alarm: “Quickly pry open his mouth! Quick!” Xiong Jun was too agitated and might bite his tongue to death at any moment. His eyes rolled back, foam came from his mouth, and his limbs convulsed continuously. He so hoped he would never think again, never resist again—then he could happily serve in the military and serve the country once more, willingly…

For country and people…

The military camp was in complete chaos. Some officers lowered their heads and wept, others busied themselves with rescue. Amid the shouting, suddenly someone called: “Grand Commander! That child ran away!”

Everyone quickly turned to see a small figure running swiftly from the tent, already through the camp and heading toward town. Soldiers guarding outside the tent didn’t understand the situation and didn’t try to stop him.

Officers shouted and took down their purple rattan bows, drawing arrows aimed at the child’s back. But everyone knew this was just for show—without that iron hand’s signal, no one dared shoot on their own.

Under the brilliant evening clouds and setting sun, on this midsummer evening of the third year of Zhengtong, Wu Dingyuan gazed west to see the child running farther and farther. He seemed to be chasing the blood-red sunset, running west, desperately west. For in that far western bitter cold land where the sunset disappeared stood a mountain of dreams called…

Nu Cang Mountain.