Ding Feng was chatting and passing time with those old soldiers when in the distance he spotted a ship making its way toward the pier.

Daisheng Pass was a small frontier post, its pier of modest scale, and ordinarily almost no ships came and went.

As for the Yanzhou border forces, their defensive presence along the coastline was extremely thin.

This was partly because Chu had no naval fleet, and partly because neither did Bohai.

The difference between the two lay here: Chu had not built a naval fleet because they considered it troublesome — not worth spending the money on. The Chu Emperor had also held the view that it was better not to stir up unnecessary trouble — go exploring the seas, and you might just find some new enemy.

Bohai simply could not afford it. They were too poor.

The entire Bohai Kingdom could not scrape together more than a handful of ships capable of venturing into the open sea.

And so many things that appear to be coincidences are in truth nothing of the sort. Sang — a small kingdom wracked by internal strife — could intermittently raid the Central Plains coast precisely because their fleet was powerful.

Had Dachu, at its founding, not abandoned the development of a naval force, perhaps the lands of Sang would by now be flying the Chu banner.

The Sang merchant vessel now in view made Ding Feng uneasy from the gut.

Those Sang people looked humble but were inwardly cold — nothing good ever happened wherever they appeared.

“Old Chen.”

Ding Feng called out to an old soldier who looked to be in his mid-fifties: “Don’t go over there — something feels wrong.”

Old Chen had been at Daisheng Pass for fourteen years as well, arriving the same year as General Guan Chongshen. He was not Guan Chongshen’s personal aide, but the General had always looked after him well.

Now that he was old and his legs no longer served him as they once had, he had been assigned to keep watch at this small pier. Each day was effectively idle — most of the time he could sit in the sun.

Ding Feng had no face to enter the pass itself, so he came every day to chat with Old Chen and the others for a while, to ask how the General was doing.

Old Chen always told him to just go see the General himself. Ding Feng felt too guilty in his heart, and did not dare.

“What’s wrong? What feels off?”

Old Chen asked.

Ding Feng pointed at the cargo ship in the distance: “Look at how deep the waterline sits — either that ship is carrying an enormous amount of cargo, or an enormous number of people.”

Old Chen turned to look. Indeed, something was not right.

A ship sitting that low in the water meant it could not have come from far out at sea — otherwise it would capsize far too easily. The slightest heavy swell, and the ship would tilt and take on water. Anyone who made their livelihood on the sea year round would never make a mistake like this.

So the only possible conclusion was that there were more ships farther out, and the cargo — or the people — had been transferred to this one ship when they were close to the pier.

Even more suspicious — a bit farther off, two more cargo ships were hanging back, not approaching the pier, as though standing watch and waiting.

“We have nobody here doing such a large volume of business with Sang merchants.”

Ding Feng said. “If anyone were, they’d already be waiting here to receive the shipment — not having the Sang people come to us on their own.”

He asked Old Chen: “Has anyone come through recently saying a Sang merchant fleet was due to dock?”

Old Chen shook his head: “No. And you’re here every day — you know this shabby little pier of ours. At least ten-odd days since anyone has come.”

Ding Feng’s eyes flickered. Then he seized Old Chen’s arm: “Move — now!”

Old Chen was still looking at the ship and nearly got yanked off his feet.

“All of you — run back, go through the side gate.”

Ding Feng unhooked the repeating crossbow from Old Chen’s waist and fastened it to his own belt, then took Old Chen’s saber as well: “You old-timers — move faster!”

Then he pointed his blade toward the Sang man running toward them: “Come no closer! Get back on your ship!”

The Sang merchant was visibly startled — and then turned to look back toward the cargo ship.

On the cargo ship, the Sang general Mu Shanghe swore: “Idiot — what are you looking back for?!”

Ding Feng watched the Sang merchant turn to look behind him, and his conviction that something was wrong solidified all the more.

Even though he had left the border troops years ago, that sharp, honed alertness had never gone. A man who had earned his place as the General’s personal aide was no mere creature of good luck.

He shouted again: “Come any closer and I will loose my arrows! Fall back!”

The Sang merchant seemed to hesitate, and after quite some time at last tried to come forward to explain himself, walking and talking as he went.

Ding Feng glanced back and saw that Old Chen and the others were nearly at the city gate. He then turned and ran — shouting as he went: “Enemy attack! Enemy attack!”

The soldiers keeping watch on the city walls saw it, and immediately took up their bows.

When Ding Feng had stopped Old Chen and the others from approaching the ship, they had been barely a dozen or so zhang from it — within arrow range.

When Ding Feng turned and ran, Mu Shanghe knew any chance of a surprise strike was gone. He immediately shouted: “Off the ship!”

A group of highly capable men leapt straight from the ship, landed on the dock planking, and sprinted furiously after Ding Feng.

Ding Feng was not far ahead of them, but the city gates were still over a hundred zhang away. He ran and as he ran unhooked the repeating crossbow, turning to send a volley of bolts at his pursuers.

Three, five bolts — and he hit none of them. Ding Feng cursed himself in his heart.

He had been away from it too long — his hands had grown that rusty.

All these years living in the criminal underworld — though he had not entirely let his skills lapse, it was nothing like the days when he had trained brutally in the military camps. Especially during the period when life had grown more and more comfortable, when he had spent his days in carefree leisure — now his stamina was far less than before.

The Sang warriors chasing him were all extremely capable — handpicked specialists chosen specifically for this surprise assault on the city gates. They were gaining on Ding Feng steadily.

Ding Feng saw that Old Chen and the others were still waiting for him at the side gate, and immediately bellowed: “Don’t wait for me — get inside and close the gate!”

Old Chen just shook his head, looking deeply anxious.

Just then, the lead Sang warrior flung a handful of hidden weapons — spinning through the air as they came.

Ding Feng knew his current abilities were no match for stopping those projectiles. He flung himself forward in a dive, dropping flat on the ground, and the volley flew just over him.

He scrambled up and kept running: “Close the gate!”

Not only did they not close the gate — Old Chen and the others exchanged a glance, and actually drew their sabers and came back.

“Move, all of you!” Ding Feng screamed.

His one dive had given the Sang warriors crucial ground. One of them unslung a grappling chain from his shoulder, spun it several times, and let it fly forward.

The thing had a grappling claw at the tip — good for seizing men, good for scaling walls.

Ding Feng turned and slashed the claw aside with a saber stroke — but a second grappling chain was already on him, landing square on his shoulder.

The second Sang warrior who had thrown it planted his feet and yanked with both hands, putting all his strength into it. Ding Feng couldn’t withstand the searing agony in his shoulder and crashed to the ground with a heavy thud.

Old Chen and the others ran back — one of the old soldiers brought his saber down on the chain, severing the rope. Ding Feng instantly scrambled to his feet.

But by now, those Sang warriors had closed in on them.

More and more Sang soldiers were coming off the ship behind them, charging forward in a frenzy.

“Why did you come back?!”

Ding Feng yanked the grappling claw from his shoulder, enduring the pain, and gripped his saber in both hands: “I will hold the rear. You fall back.”

Old Chen looked at the wound on his shoulder and shook his head: “I will hold the rear.”

Just at that moment, from the side gate, someone else came bursting through. The instant that man stepped out, the long spear in his hand was already flying.

The spear became a streak of light, flying past Ding Feng’s side — with a sharp thud, it drove clean through the Sang warrior who had just charged up to the front, and the momentum of the spear carried it through his body and into the chest of the man behind him.

“Get back!”

General Guan Chongshen surged forward. In midair, he drew his saber — and in one stroke cut down the second man who had reached them.

“General, you cannot come out in person—”

Ding Feng’s words were not finished before Guan Chongshen seized him by the back of his belt and hurled him backward: “Shut your mouth.”

Guan Chongshen held the rear with a single saber, cutting down three or four more Sang warriors in succession.

Behind him, the personal guards had arrived — shields interposed to force the battle line back. Those Sang warriors had lost their opportunity, were then pushed back by the repeating crossbows, and could only fall back toward the cargo ships.

Mu Shanghe’s face was dark: “Send word to the Great General — the plan to seize the city gates by surprise has failed.”

—

Back atop the city wall, Guan Chongshen pointed to the space beside him: “Sit.”

Ding Feng shook his head: “I am a civilian now. I cannot simply climb a city wall as I please — there are rules…”

“Sit down.”

Guan Chongshen fixed him with a stare.

Ding Feng could only comply, and sat obediently, not daring to utter another word.

Guan Chongshen used a dagger to cut open the fabric at Ding Feng’s shoulder, took one look at the wound, and immediately frowned. The force with which that grappling claw had torn away was immense — the flesh had been ripped open badly.

Guan Chongshen said: “Bear it.”

Then he handed the dagger to Ding Feng. Ding Feng clenched the blade between his teeth. A moment later, a searing burst of agony came from his shoulder — the blue veins along his forehead stood out sharply, and his teeth ground against the dagger hard enough to make it scrape.

Guan Chongshen flushed the wound clean with strong liquor, then wiped it dry with gauze before picking up needle and thread: “A bit more to bear.”

He worked quickly, suturing the torn flesh. With every stitch, Ding Feng’s shoulder shuddered.

When the suturing was done, he dusted on medicinal powder, then used gauze to bind the wound tight. Guan Chongshen let out a breath.

Then he said, in a tone of gruff complaint: “What has happened to you — you’re as soft and tender-skinned now as some pampered young miss.”

Ding Feng took the dagger out of his mouth — the corners of his lips had been cut a little.

“Thank you… General.”

Guan Chongshen looked at him again, and glanced at the clothing Ding Feng had cut open: “I haven’t got anything fine as what you’re wearing. You can go without, or I can find you something.”

Ding Feng quickly said: “This is fine… I would not dare impose.”

Old Chen scolded him: “You fool — the General is asking whether you want to wear the military uniform!”

Ding Feng’s eyes went wide all at once. After a long moment, they reddened.

“I…”

He looked at the General: “I… do I still deserve that?”

Guan Chongshen paid him no mind, turning to give the order: “Go get him a set of battle dress — new recruit’s.”

Then he looked at Ding Feng: “You are not fit to wear the personal aide’s uniform. You barely scrape by as fit for a set of new recruit’s clothes. Wear them if you like. If you don’t, go away and stand there without.”

“I want to wear it — I want to.”

Ding Feng was so overjoyed he could barely contain himself. The way he grinned with his mouth open wide, he looked like a child who had been lost for a very long time and had finally spotted the way home.

Happiness and the urge to cry, all at once.

Before long, a set of new recruit’s battle dress arrived. Ding Feng, as though afraid the General might change his mind, put the uniform on with as much haste as he could manage.

Guan Chongshen picked up a saber and tossed it to him: “First article of the new recruit’s code…”

Ding Feng gripped the saber and said in a clear, carrying voice: “Those who flee from battle — are to be executed!”

Guan Chongshen looked at him, and then smiled.

Ding Feng’s hand holding the saber was still trembling. After a moment he asked: “General — those dozen or so brothers… they also want to…”

Guan Chongshen pointed to the side. Ding Feng followed the direction of his hand and saw — those dozen or so old brothers had already climbed up onto the city wall.

“Light the beacon.”

Guan Chongshen gave the order, resting his hand against the battlements and gazing outward.

“When the beacon fire is lit and the smoke rises, every person who sees it and wears a military uniform will come. From now on, no border soldier will ever stand alone and without aid again.”

He turned his head and looked at Ding Feng: “Shen Shanhu said those words. Do you believe her?”

Ding Feng nodded: “I believe her.”

Guan Chongshen smiled: “So do I. With no fear of standing alone — what in the hell are we afraid of!”

He raised his arm and pointed outward toward the ground beyond the walls: “No matter how many come—!”

Every voice rang out together: “We kill them all!”