Li Chi had now spent three full days on the city wall without once going down. He ate and slept where he stood, regardless of the cold — the soldiers cycled through their shifts and rotations while he stayed. Neither he nor Xiahou Zuo had any complaint about the hardship — neither was the delicate sort.
But.
Gao Xining was rather less than pleased.
Early that morning, she crouched outside the little makeshift shelter, looking in at the two men still deep in sleep.
The two of them had stood watch for the soldiers the previous night, stayed up until past midnight, and only slept in the second half of the night — barely two hours at this point. Fortunately, when the enemy was not attacking, there were moments to catch brief rest, so both of them were holding up reasonably well.
At this moment, Xiahou Zuo had almost fully rolled sideways in his sleep, one leg draped across Li Chi’s body. Li Chi, meanwhile, had one finger poking at Xiahou Zuo’s nostril — nearly all the way in.
“Ah…”
Gao Xining exhaled softly: “And here I haven’t even slept yet, while he’s gone to sleep on someone else first.”
She tucked the blanket she’d carried up over both of them as best she could, then rose, moved to one side, propped up a small iron pot over a fire, and set about cooking a meat porridge for Li Chi and Xiahou Zuo.
Those two — however you looked at it, they’d been eating poorly and sleeping poorly for days.
Gao Xining stirred the pot and murmured to herself: “Sleeping behind my back with someone else, and I’m still here making you food… the more I think about it, the more I should probably be a little upset about this.”
Yu Jiuling crouched nearby watching her. He heard this, couldn’t hold back, and laughed.
His laugh woke Li Chi, who opened his eyes — and found Xiahou Zuo’s leg still pinning him. He looked at it with mild distaste.
Then he noticed his own finger almost inside Xiahou Zuo’s nostril. He blinked. Then he pushed the finger into Xiahou Zuo’s mouth and gave it a slow turn…
Xiahou Zuo, deep in some dream, smacked his lips and murmured: “Too salty…”
Li Chi got up, stretched, walked over to Gao Xining, and crouched beside her: “Excuse me, who does this young lady belong to? You are absolutely radiant — that face of yours, skin smooth as cream, lovely as a peach blossom; that figure of yours, one more ounce would be too much, one less would leave something missing.”
Yu Jiuling said: “Chief, you lifted that from my book.”
Li Chi grinned.
Gao Xining sighed: “Flattery for no reason means you’re either up to something dishonest or up to something worse.”
Yu Jiuling said: “Dishonest. Not possibly the other. Definitely the dishonest kind.”
Li Chi looked at Yu Jiuling: “Did you think that because you’re flattering your big brother I wouldn’t do anything to you?”
Yu Jiuling nodded, genuinely: “That’s right.”
Li Chi raised his hand and pinched Yu Jiuling hard on the thigh. Yu Jiuling yelped in pain, drawing looks from all directions.
Still wincing, Yu Jiuling turned to Gao Xining: “Big sister, see — the chief has started pinching people. Such an undignified move. He’s definitely been influenced by something. Something is definitely wrong!”
Gao Xining said: “He’s doing it wrong.”
And she gave a sharp pinch to the other side of Yu Jiuling’s thigh. Yu Jiuling’s eyes went wet.
Li Chi said: “That’s what scheming flatterers get.”
Gao Xining let out a small laugh, then remembered: “The Hewu people have gone three days without attacking. That seems very off.”
Li Chi said: “I was just talking about this with Xiahou yesterday. Could it be that whatever was thrown into their wells actually worked?”
Yu Jiuling said: “Anything I do works. When I was throwing things in, I even chanted a spell — ‘let the big ones die and not the small ones; Hewu men die in order of rank.'”
Xiahou Zuo rubbed his eyes and sat up, catching the smell of meat porridge.
He smacked his lips and muttered to himself: “No wonder my mouth tasted salty — it’s that porridge I was smelling.”
He walked over and sat down by the fire, just woken, and shivered in the cold.
Li Chi watched him shiver and then glanced down at his trousers. Xiahou Zuo: “Get out of here.”
“The Hewu haven’t attacked in three days — if nothing unexpected is going on, that plan probably actually worked,” Xiahou Zuo said, warming his hands by the fire. “It’s just that there’s no way to send anyone out to get information. It’d be ideal if a few of their generals were dead.”
Yu Jiuling said: “A few generals isn’t big enough. When I made my wish, I said the biggest one dies first.”
Xiahou Zuo scoffed: “You actually think you can curse Chizhu Liuli to death?”
Yu Jiuling said: “Well, honestly, a name like that sounds like it belongs to someone who isn’t just passing through the story — a man like that probably has more time to live. Plus he’s the biggest threat to us here in the Central Plains. But… what if?”
He pressed his palms together: “If Chizhu Liuli has actually been affected, please — let him not pull through. Let the illness beat him. And if the illness won’t finish the job, let him have an accident.”
At that moment, Little Zhang the Zhenren walked up, catching the last of this. He gave Yu Jiuling a pat on the shoulder.
“I will add the blessing of the Dragon-Tiger Mountain Daoist arts to your wish.”
Yu Jiuling asked: “Will that work?”
Little Zhang thought about it and shook his head: “No… but it should be somewhat better than you wishing alone.”
Yu Jiuling asked: “Better how?”
Little Zhang pointed to his own robes: “I’m a professional.”
Li Chi, Gao Xining, and Xiahou Zuo looked at these two, the same thought written in all three pairs of eyes: Yu Jiuling being childish was one thing — why was Little Zhang the Zhenren this childish too?
—
The Hewu main camp.
The medical officer knelt at the bedside drenched in sweat. His own face was, if anything, worse in color than the man lying on the bed — one man pale from illness, one pale from terror.
“What is the verdict?” Azure Bureau Deputy Divine Seat Zhimoranr asked coldly.
Though he had no patience for Chizhu Liuli, he understood that if the commanding general died now, this grand southward campaign would become a laughingstock in the eyes of the Central Plains people. One battle fought, and the general drops dead — when the Central Plains told that story, their teeth would be chattering with laughter.
“Deputy Divine Seat…”
The medical officer said carefully: “It appears to be a pestilential illness.”
Those words changed Zhimoranr’s expression immediately. He stepped back two paces at once, raising one sleeve to cover his nose and mouth.
He asked from behind his sleeve: “You’re certain? Can it be treated?”
The medical officer’s forehead was already slick with sweat: “Deputy Divine Seat, I have administered every available remedy, but I truly cannot offer assurance. Over the past few days, within the command area, men have been dying one after another from sustained high fever — there are already several hundred dead. The Grand General’s symptoms are identical to the others, which is why I venture this assessment.”
Zhimoranr was quiet for a moment, then gave a decisive order: “Arrange a carriage. Transport the Grand General back to the Southern Court for treatment. I will personally write to the capital and present a memorial to His Majesty the Khan-Emperor.”
After that, he turned to the assembled Hewu commanders: “From this day, I am taking command of the army. Does anyone object?”
With his standing, who would dare?
The Azure Bureau’s authority within Hewu exceeded the Bureau of Investigation in Dachu by a considerable degree. Dachu’s eunuchs had weaponized the Bureau of Investigation for personal gain and indiscriminate killing — the Azure Bureau held even broader authority than that. They could detain without evidence. Azure Bureau suspicion was sufficient cause for arrest.
No one dared question Zhimoranr’s words, but no one immediately answered either. This was the command authority over eight hundred thousand troops — a mistake here could end in catastrophe. These men knew well enough: if this campaign truly went wrong, it would not be Zhimoranr who was punished. It would be them.
Zhimoranr, as Azure Bureau Deputy Divine Seat and the Sword Sect master’s first disciple, would face no severe consequences — the Khan-Emperor had to give the Sword Sect master face. And the master’s position within Hewu was pivotal.
“No one objects?”
Zhimoranr swept the room and saw Jingluo Fu beginning to speak. He raised a hand and pointed: “Silence.”
Jingluo Fu’s expression flared with anger — to be humiliated like this, in front of everyone, as a general and warrior was almost unbearable.
Zhimoranr said: “From this day, Jingluo Fu serves as my Deputy General. In my absence, he may act in my stead. The sixty-thousand-man Southern Court army falls under Jingluo Fu’s authority. I serve as Marshal of the Forces. He acts as Southern Court Grand General in proxy.”
Jingluo Fu’s expression shifted again. After a moment he bowed: “I receive the order.”
Zhimoranr looked at Qibotian: “You are Left Flank General. Take one hundred thousand men and establish your position on the left wing. Await further orders.”
Qibotian bowed: “Understood.”
Zhimoranr looked at Anshi Nayi — likely thanks to youth and strong constitution, or perhaps the medicine had taken hold, for while he looked worn, he had recovered somewhat.
“Anshi Nayi — you are Right Flank General. One hundred thousand men. Secure the right wing.”
He then gave another order: “Send word to the Tiehe division’s commander Goshi — tell him I have an urgent matter to discuss.”
After that he turned to Chizhu Liuli’s personal guard officers: “You will personally lead the Grand General’s bodyguards to escort him back to the Southern Court for treatment. Do not fail in this.”
The guard captain felt deeply conflicted. To see the Grand General lose his command like this was painful to watch. But the sight of their Grand General possibly dying then and there was worse. In the end, he could only nod: “I receive the order.”
Chizhu Liuli burned with fever, and no one knew how long he could hold on. Zhimoranr’s swift decisiveness in a moment of crisis was genuinely admirable.
Several attendants lifted the cot and moved out through the tent flaps. Outside, carriages and horses were already waiting. They transferred Chizhu Liuli to one of the vehicles, loaded several medical officers aboard, prepared medicines for the road, and set off immediately.
As the convoy moved out of camp — heaven knows how it happened — the wheel axle of the carriage suddenly snapped.
The carriage lurched to one side. Chizhu Liuli, lying inside, rolled against the wall, his head striking the carriage panel with a heavy crack.
This sent the two medical officers riding inside into a panic. They scrambled to lift Chizhu Liuli and get him out. Never mind pestilence at this point — there was no room to think about it.
They lifted him to get out. Heaven knows how it happened — the second medical officer to step down from the carriage caught his ankle on the edge, stumbled, and dropped Chizhu Liuli onto the ground.
Heaven knows how it happened — Chizhu Liuli’s head landed directly on a stone. Quite possibly the same stone the wheel had ridden over, causing that jolt that snapped the axle.
But none of that mattered now.
What mattered was that the back of Chizhu Liuli’s skull now had a hollow in it, blood flowing freely…
The medical officers rushed to help — clearing the wound, binding it — and had barely finished when they realized that their Southern Court Grand General had stopped breathing.
The body grew cold. In the chill of the weather, it began to stiffen before long.
A cluster of men stood around, every face a mask of grief and fury, and of sheer disbelief.
The Grand General who had swept south at the head of eight hundred thousand troops — full of purpose and conviction, speaking only days ago of taking the entire Central Plains in three years —
Now lay there as a cold, stiff corpse.
Zhimoranr stood looking at it. His complexion went from pale to iron-grey. He raised his head toward the direction of Beishan Pass. After a long silence, he exhaled slowly and heavily.
“Investigate the water source.”
The order came out cold.
—