Though Piao Henyong’s manner was exceedingly agreeable — a perfect display of that instinctive, bone-deep subservience the Bohai people carried in them — Cheng Wujie sent him on his way regardless. A man like that was far more useful walking back to Bohai than sitting in a Ning army camp.

As for the offer of guidance, neither Cheng Wujie nor Tang Pidi had any use for it. The Ning army wasn’t here to raze Bohai to the ground. Taking it by force, right now, wasn’t a question of difficulty — it was a question of pointlessness. Conquering it would only become a burden.

So letting Piao Henyong go made for a better outcome. And once he returned, what could he possibly tell Piao Pushan?

He had two options.

The first: praise the Ning army’s invincibility, speak at length about how formidable they were — which would help excuse his failure to hold Jintang Pass.

The second: stoke hatred toward the Ning army, strike a posture of absolute defiance, vow to fight to the last.

If he chose the first, the Bohai King would hear it and be afraid. He would hesitate, unsure whether to push back — dare he delay in meeting the Ning army’s demands?

If he chose the second, and it pushed Piao Pushan into declaring all-out war, Tang Pidi would be delighted. Taking away eight hundred thousand young laborers was the preferred outcome, yes — but killing eight hundred thousand would do just as well.

Sending Piao Henyong back: maximum effect.

Piao Henyong was deeply unhappy. Profoundly unhappy. He felt he had arrived at an important crossroads in his life, and been passed right by.

The whole ride back, he kept turning over how to face the Bohai King. He knew Piao Pushan’s cruelty all too well. In terms of seniority, he and Piao Henmeng were both the king’s paternal uncles — but had Piao Pushan ever let kinship stop him from killing?

Those even closer to him had met the same end. Their relationship with Piao Pushan’s father wasn’t even that of blood brothers — only clansmen. Piao Pushan’s own blood uncle had once grown a little too proud of his contributions and spoken to the king without proper deference. He had been torn apart by five horses. After that, no one from the Piao clan dared step out of line.

So Piao Henyong spent the entire journey thinking of one thing: how to come out of this alive.

Just as Tang Pidi had predicted, there were only two paths before him.

Before leaving the Ning camp, he had pleaded with Cheng Wujie for a few extra days — time enough, he said, to go back and persuade the Bohai King. He also pointed out that seven days was not nearly enough to muster eight hundred thousand people, and that even riding back to the capital would take seven days on its own.

Cheng Wujie said: nonsense. I’m giving you a horse — call it a parting gift, courtesy of what we took from you in battle. Ride hard for seven days and you could cross Bohai from north to south. How big do you think your kingdom is?

Piao Henyong had a horse — and right now, he rather wanted to ditch it.

Sure enough, near the capital, he did. He abandoned the horse, tore his clothes into greater rags, rubbed dirt all over himself — and then thought this probably isn’t enough, gritted his teeth, and walked headfirst into a tree.

Hard enough to break his nose.

He made the most of the blood streaming from his nostrils, smearing it across his face and anywhere else it would reach. Then he set off for the city gates.

After a few steps, he decided it still wasn’t quite convincing enough.

So he found a gap between two trees and, with a sharp twist of his body, snapped his own arm.

That kind of ruthlessness — he’d had none of it on the battlefield. Some people are strange that way.

One arm dangling, face caked in filth, nose bent sideways, Piao Henyong staggered and lurched to the city gates.

He was quickly ushered into the Bohai King’s palace.

Piao Pushan was in his thirties — a man at the peak of his faculties, body and mind alike. But even he was taken aback at the sight of Piao Henyong.

He had no reason to doubt how those injuries had come about.

“Your Majesty…”

Piao Henyong struggled to his knees, pressed his forehead to the floor, and wept with loud, helpless grief — a sight that struck anyone watching to the core.

“Your Majesty, this minister has failed you. I could not hold Jintang Pass. I beg Your Majesty to order my death.”

“Your Majesty, I did not end my own life — only because I wished to draw one last breath, to return and stand before you, to report on the Ning army’s situation. Only then would I seek death…”

Piao Pushan was moved. He stepped down from the dais and reached out to steady Piao Henyong. “Rise. Someone — send for the physician.”

“Your Majesty, this minister has sinned—”

Piao Henyong was fully in character. In that moment, perhaps even he believed himself a man of unfailing loyalty and courage.

“I fought with everything I had, Your Majesty. But the disparity in numbers was too great. The Ning army was relentless. All fifty thousand soldiers at Jintang Pass died to a man — not one fled. And still, we could not hold them.”

“Ah…”

Piao Pushan let out a long, heavy sigh. “I know the Ning army is formidable. Tang Pidi is skilled in battle. That Jintang Pass fell — I cannot lay all of that at your feet…”

Piao Henyong snapped his head up. In his eyes blazed an unconquerable, unyielding hatred.

“Your Majesty, Tang Pidi is a man without integrity. He negotiated with us with one hand and sent soldiers to strike our pass with the other.”

He spoke loudly: “Your Majesty, I beg you — let this minister, sinful and disgraced as I am, return to the field. I will fight to the death to defend the capital!”

The words were shrewdly chosen.

What he said was loyalty and courage. What he meant to tell Piao Pushan was: we cannot stop the Ning army. They will reach the capital.

The words defend the capital were the real heart of it.

“Your Majesty, I am willing to die in service to Your Majesty and in defense of Bohai — this wound is nothing!”

He rose to his feet and declared, “Loyalty is not something spoken with the mouth! Even if I die on the road, giving everything for my king and my country, I would go without regret!”

Piao Henmeng, who had said nothing the entire time, stepped forward at once: “Your Majesty, though this minister and General Piao are close, and it would be improper for me to offer excessive praise — I cannot remain silent at a moment like this. A man like General Piao is a true model of loyal service!”

Piao Pushan gave a small nod. He said little. He was too unsettled right now, too helpless to change anything. He could see perfectly well that these brothers were putting on a performance. He simply chose to watch.

He was not a fool. He knew exactly what Piao Henmeng and Piao Henyong were up to.

He just needed a way out — a step down. And the Ning army wasn’t going to give him one. So he had to find it among his own people.

And these two paternal uncles of his had, between them, built him that very step — and smoothed it down nicely for easy descent.

When a step is offered, you take it. Bohai truly had no way to stand against the Ning army right now. If the Ning army didn’t destroy the kingdom, swallowing this humiliation was something he could do.

Piao Pushan waved a hand. “Chancellor, make the arrangements. I am feeling unwell — I’ll rest for now. Piao General — if you truly wish to assist the Chancellor, you may.”

With that, Piao Pushan turned and walked away.

Piao Henyong and Piao Henmeng exchanged a glance. Then, simultaneously, both let out a breath they had been holding.