Outside Mei City.

Another dawn. The sun seemed to have risen a little later than the day before — though perhaps that was only because Guan Zaixing was impatient.

Today he felt like a different man, for he now had a truly exceptional horse: Liuhuo, the Flowing Fire, gifted to him by Pei Qi.

In the glow of the rising sun, Liuhuo’s coat blazed with vivid brilliance.

So much so that Guan Zaixing felt he was not riding a horse at all, but a flame.

Perhaps Liuhuo had been cooped up in the palace stables too long — the moment it left the city and saw the wide open world, it let out a long, ringing whinny.

Guan Zaixing pulled the reins and the horse reared up on its hind legs, forelegs pawing the air, shrieking as it rose.

His men cheered with admiration, and Guan Zaixing was filled with smug satisfaction.

He thought only this: the next time he faced a Ning general in combat, surely not one of them would be able to run from him again.

He led his force to a point not far from the Ning camp and ordered his men to ride forward and issue the challenge.

His men were well practiced at this by now. They spurred their horses forward — but before they could even open their mouths, the gates of the Ning camp opened, and out rode a young general on a black horse.

Guan Zaixing had not come close, yet he recognized him at once: it was Gao Zhen — the one he had defeated before.

Now, looking again, Gao Zhen sat upright on his tall horse, advancing at a measured pace, his presence not lacking in the slightest.

And from the Ning camp, only Gao Zhen had ridden out — without so much as a single escort.

Guan Zaixing understood: Gao Zhen had come to wash away his shame.

Guan Zaixing rode forward and with a shout ordered all his men to fall back.

He came within close range, looked Gao Zhen up and down, then cupped his hands in greeting.

“General Gao.”

Gao Zhen returned the salute. “General Guan.”

“Your wound healed quickly,” said Guan Zaixing with a smile.

“The wound has not fully healed,” Gao Zhen replied. “But I reckon I can beat you in this condition, so here I am.”

Guan Zaixing burst into laughter at those words. “General Gao truly has spirit! Since you believe you have what it takes, then let us fight again — only this time, I will not spare your life a second time.”

Gao Zhen unhooked his iron spear. “Come, then.”

Guan Zaixing urged Liuhuo forward. The horse screamed and leapt ahead, and Guan Zaixing drove his spear straight at Gao Zhen’s chest.

The last time Gao Zhen had been wounded was by Guan Zaixing’s parting strike — a reverse thrust that had shattered his heart mirror.

Clang.

Gao Zhen knocked Guan Zaixing’s spear aside with his own, then made a gesture. “Would General Guan wait a moment?”

Guan Zaixing reined in his horse. “What are you doing?”

Gao Zhen hooked his iron spear back on the victory hook at his saddle, then removed the long robe he was wearing.

Guan Zaixing had noticed when Gao Zhen rode out: he was not wearing armor.

Now, Gao Zhen removed his robe as well — and beneath it he had not even put on the chain mail.

Bare to the waist, Gao Zhen took up his spear again. “Come.”

Guan Zaixing was momentarily stunned by Gao Zhen’s sheer audacity — but quickly steadied himself and raised his spear.

The two men traded blow for blow, and before long another dozen-odd exchanges had passed, just like their first fight — with no clear victor in sight.

Yet Guan Zaixing was certain of his own victory.

Because Gao Zhen, in his reckless boldness, had gone into battle without armor or even a robe — and now, beneath the bandages wrapped around his wound, blood was already beginning to seep through.

Clearly the fierce combat had reopened the wound.

At the gates of the Ning camp, Xiahou Zhuo watched Gao Zhen fighting Guan Zaixing with his heart in his throat.

“How did he go out there without even his soft armor?!” he breathed in a low, strained voice.

Li Chi stood right beside Xiahou Zhuo. If he was being honest, he hadn’t anticipated Gao Zhen doing this either.

But it had to be said: the instant Gao Zhen rode out bare-chested, a roar erupted from within the Ning camp.

And right on its heels — the war drums.

Grand General Zhuang Wudi had personally taken up the drumsticks and planted himself before the enormous cowhide drum, swinging his arms with full force.

The drumsticks fell, and the drums thundered.

It was as if the sound ignited something in Gao Zhen — he fought with increasing ferocity, fiercer with every exchange. Yet even so, Guan Zaixing showed no sign of alarm.

He could see that Gao Zhen’s wound had reopened and the bleeding was speeding up. At this rate, Gao Zhen could not hold on long.

So he deliberately slowed his own pace. He stopped pressing the attack and switched to receiving Gao Zhen’s blows — parrying each strike as it came, holding back his strength, conserving himself for the killing blow he would deliver when the moment was right.

Gao Zhen’s youth and raw spirit were remarkable — even with blood pouring from his wound he launched sustained assaults that even made Guan Zaixing silently marvel.

He found himself thinking: if he were in such a condition, he might not hold out as long.

And so the two fought on for another short while. Gao Zhen’s upper body was now soaked in blood — it looked as though the blood from his wound had soaked through to his trousers.

The young general began to show signs of flagging.

Guan Zaixing watched as the speed of Gao Zhen’s thrusts grew slower, the force behind the spear visibly fading.

So Guan Zaixing drew in a deep breath, deflected Gao Zhen’s spear, and suddenly unleashed a furious storm of attacks.

Gao Zhen was driven back, struggling to hold his ground. After two or three dozen strikes, he was visibly flustered.

Guan Zaixing watched, and on Gao Zhen’s face he could see the first signs of panic. He was done.

“In your next life, do not be a general. Live as an ordinary man.”

Guan Zaixing bellowed the words, poured all the strength from both arms into a single thrust, and drove his spear straight for Gao Zhen’s heart.

Gao Zhen appeared to have no way to evade — he could only bring his own spear crosswise in front of him. As Guan Zaixing’s spear came driving in, Gao Zhen shoved upward with both hands.

Clang — Guan Zaixing’s spear was knocked upward.

Gao Zhen sent the spear flying with a shove, then shouted “Arrow!” and reached toward his waist with his left hand.

Guan Zaixing, instinctively assuming Gao Zhen was reaching for a repeating crossbow, wrenched himself to the side in evasion.

But Gao Zhen had ridden out with nothing but his spear — there was no crossbow. That feint had given him a clean opening.

Guan Zaixing dodged, found no bolt coming, and looked back — only to see that Gao Zhen had already wheeled his horse and was running.

Guan Zaixing roared at the cowardly wretch and gave chase.

He thought: now I have Liuhuo, the Emperor’s gift. There is no way I’m letting you escape from me again.

He urged the horse on relentlessly. Liuhuo seemed to sense the will of its new master and surged in pursuit.

After about thirty breaths, Guan Zaixing had drawn up behind Gao Zhen’s horse. He raised his spear and was about to drive it into Gao Zhen’s back.

And in that very instant, Gao Zhen suddenly tilted sideways.

Like a man falling from the saddle — but he did not fall. He hung sideways off the horse.

At the same moment, Gao Zhen gripped the butt end of his spear with one hand and thrust it backward with full force.

That reverse thrust — the parting blow — was the exact same move Guan Zaixing had used when he first defeated Gao Zhen.

The spear caught Guan Zaixing squarely in the chest. First came a crisp crack — the sound of the heart mirror guard being punched through. Then came a wet thud — the sound of the spear head entering Guan Zaixing’s body.

Gao Zhen swung himself back upright onto the saddle, pulled his horse around, and gripped the spear with both hands. He gave a great heave upward, lifting Guan Zaixing clean off the back of his horse.

This young general, bare from the waist up, turned to face the Shu army — and raised his spear high.

Guan Zaixing’s body, pierced through, began to slowly slide down the shaft. His hands instinctively clutched the spear at first, but the strength faded fast, and he slid down with increasing speed.

Gao Zhen steadied Guan Zaixing, then drew the spear back out.

With a whoosh, the spear flew backward — and as the tip, red tassel and all, was torn from Guan Zaixing’s body, it drew with it a spray of blood.

“I’m sorry. Our lord had originally hoped to bring you into his service — but now you can only die by my hand.”

Gao Zhen stepped down from his horse and laid Guan Zaixing on the ground.

If he had not pulled the spear free, Guan Zaixing might have lived another two or three breaths longer.

Now Guan Zaixing had only a single thread of life remaining. In these final moments, he looked at Gao Zhen with an expression that was unmistakably one of envy.

“You are luckier than I am… Your lord planned everything — only so that you could be the one to kill me. So that you could take revenge with your own hands…”

With those words, Guan Zaixing could not draw his next breath, and died.

Gao Zhen stood for a long moment. He straightened, faced Guan Zaixing’s body, and rendered a soldier’s salute. Then he mounted his horse and turned back.

Guan Zaixing’s personal guards came rushing forward. The Ning army made no move to stop them, letting them carry Guan Zaixing’s body away.

And at that moment, standing atop the walls of Mei City, Pei Qi’s hand — the one holding his telescope — was trembling faintly.

He had watched Guan Zaixing’s death with perfect clarity.

When the enemy general wheeled his horse and fled, Pei Qi had thought surely Guan Zaixing would return with a kill to his name.

The Shu soldiers manning the walls had already begun to cheer, their voices swelling in wave after wave.

Then, in the instant Guan Zaixing was struck down, the walls fell utterly silent.

Though not especially close, from the height of the battlements, even without the telescope, the duel between the two men was clearly visible.

Silence settled over the walls, so complete that even the sound of breathing seemed to grow heavier and more labored.

For a long, long time, not a single person on the walls spoke.

Until Guan Zaixing’s force, bearing his body, had come back to the city gate — only then did Pei Qi seem to come back to himself.

He hurled the telescope down hard onto the ground, then turned and walked away without looking back.

Pei Qi did not even glance at Guan Zaixing’s body. He walked straight back to his palace.

By now a crowd of citizens had gathered in the streets below, all waiting for General Guan to return triumphant once more.

When they saw Guan Zaixing’s blood-soaked body being carried back, every one of them was struck dumb.

“Didn’t they say he was invincible?”

Someone in the crowd muttered this under their breath.

“That’s right… how did he get killed? So he wasn’t that good after all.”

“Might as well go home. Nothing to see here.”

“First two times he came back all swaggering and full of himself. Can’t swagger now, can he.”

The voices grew louder and louder, and all the more cutting for it.

Guan Zaixing’s personal guards heard the remarks and immediately flew into a rage. Some dismounted and threw themselves into the crowd, grabbing the ones who had spoken and beating them savagely.

One struck the first blow, and the rest of the guards followed, piling onto the bystanders.

“Soldiers are beating people!”

“Someone’s going to die — soldiers are beating people to death!”

Cries rang out from within the crowd, helpless and pitiable.

On his way down from the battlements, the Shu army’s Grand General Pei Xuecheng came to a stop beside Guan Zaixing’s body. He looked at this young general who had ridden out of the city that morning with such radiant confidence, and let out a long sigh.

“Perhaps… we are the ones who got you killed.”

He murmured the words to himself, then could not bear to look any longer. He waved for the body to be taken away.

“Find someone to build a coffin — make it thick. Do not… do not dishonor General Guan.”

With that instruction, another sigh escaped him.

He called for his horse to be brought around and rode at a hurried pace toward the palace, thinking that rather than fussing over a dead man, he had better go quickly and check on the Emperor.

Soldiers gathered around, looking at Guan Zaixing’s body. One man slowly removed his leather helmet and held it against his chest, bowing his head.

Soon every soldier around him had done the same, each deep in private grief.

—