Now the city held people from all walks of life — commoners, wandering martial artists, and reinforcements who had come from afar like Xiahou Zuo. After some discussion, everyone agreed that Liu Mu held the highest military rank among them, a full fourth-rank general, and his ability to command troops was genuinely exceptional, so leadership of the defense was entrusted to him.

Liu Mu served as the chief commander, with Xiahou Zuo and Tan Qianshou as his deputies. All units were to follow the orders of these three men.

After deliberating, they decided the three would rotate shifts, dividing the twenty-four hours of a day into three parts, ensuring someone was always alert and that at least two units always maintained full combat readiness at any given time.

Li Chi, Yu Jiuling, and Zhuang Wudi naturally fell under Xiahou Zuo’s watch. Though Liu Mu had made clear he wanted Li Chi with him, Li Chi pretended not to notice.

The second day passed without incident, both day and night. By the third day, the Heiwu forces outside the city began moving their troops with increasing frequency. Watching through a spyglass from atop the city wall, one could see Heiwu scouting parties fanning out in all directions — though what they were plotting was anyone’s guess.

“Something’s off.”

Li Chi turned to Xiahou Zuo and said, “Tonight’s first watch belongs to General Tan. I’ve already warned him to be cautious. I think the Heiwu forces are planning something. Although the reinforcements just arrived and need time to familiarize themselves with the battlefield, the Heiwu forces have been fighting here for six or seven days already and know this place well. The fact that they haven’t launched a major assault makes me think they may be planning a nighttime raid.”

Xiahou Zuo nodded. “That matches my thinking as well. If nothing unexpected happens, they’ll likely select skilled fighters to quietly scale the city walls. If the Heiwu Khan truly is here in person, he’d have no shortage of elite warriors at his side. The ones most worth watching are the Heiwu Azure Bureau — they recruit the finest martial artists from across the Heiwu lands, along with many extraordinary individuals.”

Li Chi asked, “Something like our Dachu’s Bureau of Records?”

Xiahou Zuo thought it over and replied, “Think of it as having the combined authority of our Dachu’s Bureau of Records, the Investigation Bureau, and the Internal Affairs Bureau rolled into one.”

Li Chi was taken aback. “A bureau that terrifying, with no checks on it at all?”

Xiahou Zuo said, “On the surface, the only check is the Heiwu Khan himself. But in truth, the Azure Bureau is controlled by the Sword Sect. The Sword Sect’s grandmaster is the real power behind the Azure Bureau. The Sword Sect’s followers are spread throughout Heiwu, and the common people’s reverence for the Sword Sect even surpasses their reverence for the Heiwu Khan.”

Li Chi said, “The Heiwu Khan would allow a sect like that to exist? That doesn’t seem right.”

“It really shouldn’t.”

Xiahou Zuo explained, “But over in Heiwu, the Moon Goddess legend came first, and the Heiwu Empire came after. Several hundred years ago, the iron cavalry of the Meng Empire trampled through the Heiwu lands. At that time, Heiwu was not a unified nation — it was a collection of city-states and petty kingdoms, reportedly over a thousand of them large and small. So the Meng cavalry essentially rode roughshod over them without meeting any real resistance.”

“After the Heiwu people had been ruled by the Meng Empire for several decades, the first to rise up were the eight tribes of the Ghost Moon. They drove out the Meng Empire, but then the Heiwu people fell into civil war. The Ghost Moon people claimed they had received the guidance of the Moon Goddess, and a chieftain of one of the eight Ghost Moon tribes was proclaimed the Goddess’s earthly representative, who then declared the founding of the Heiwu Empire.”

Xiahou Zuo glanced at Li Chi and continued, “Afterward, to strengthen their rule, the first Heiwu Khan had a great swordmaster establish the Sword Sect. That swordmaster called himself a servant of the Moon Goddess, claiming he acted under her divine mandate to recruit followers and protect Heiwu. With that framing in place, the Heiwu Khan’s rule grew ever more secure — for the Khan was the Moon Goddess-acknowledged ruler of the mortal realm. But who could have foreseen that over a hundred years later, the Sword Sect’s prestige had grown so vast that even the Khan needed the Sword Sect’s grandmaster to crown him before his reign was considered legitimate? From that point on, the Sword Sect was beyond anyone’s control.”

After listening, Li Chi nodded slowly. “So the Heiwu Khan must be pretty frustrated too.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “In the beginning, they created the Sword Sect to win over the hearts of the people. Now the Sword Sect has become a threat to the Heiwu Khan. The Sword Sect grandmaster’s standing surpasses even the Khan’s. Though the grandmaster cannot interfere in Heiwu governance directly, in practice, a single command from the grandmaster carries far more weight than a single command from the Khan.”

Li Chi thought to himself: a sect like that absolutely cannot be allowed to exist.

Xiahou Zuo continued, “It’s much the same in the Western Regions. The people there follow the Chan faith, and the kings of the smaller Western nations rely on the power of Chan belief to govern their lands. When the Chan faith swept into the Central Plains from the Western Regions in force, within just over a hundred years it had far surpassed our Dachu’s Dao tradition. Chan temples now outnumber Dao shrines by a wide margin across the land.”

Though these matters had nothing to do with Li Chi directly, he filed them all away in his memory.

Tan Qianshou took the first watch and led his unit up to relieve the previous shift. He rested his hands on the battlements and gazed into the distance. The Heiwu encampment stretched endlessly before him, and though Xiahou Zuo had brought twelve hundred reinforcements, in his heart he felt not the slightest ease.

If the Jizhou army didn’t come to their aid within two or three days, the fall of the city would not be far off.

That young man surnamed Li had bought them time with his bluff, temporarily driving back the Heiwu forces — but the Heiwu people weren’t fools. If they’d been fooled once, could they really be fooled again? And even if they genuinely believed Prince Wu was here with hundreds of thousands of troops, an army that size couldn’t be frightened away by Prince Wu’s presence alone.

The night grew deeper and deeper. Lost in these thoughts, Tan Qianshou didn’t notice the midnight hour slipping past.

He stretched his body, preparing to make his rounds, and had just lifted his foot when he saw Liu Mu climbing up carrying a food box. He smiled and went to meet him. Liu Mu raised the food box and gave it a little shake, grinning as he said, “The shift change is coming up soon. Figured you’d be hungry by now, so I came up early to eat with you.”

He opened the box to reveal steaming hot cornbread rolls and pickled vegetables.

The two men sat cross-legged on the city wall, eating and chatting. At their age, conversation always seemed to drift back to youth — back to when they had first enlisted and been assigned together, the first people each of them had known, the same age and the same ideals and ambitions, which had made their friendship deepen with remarkable speed.

If not for that battle that should never have happened, the two of them might have been even closer now — or perhaps might have long since gone their separate ways.

“Head back now. Time’s up.”

Liu Mu stood and pulled Tan Qianshou to his feet. “These old bones need rest, so get going — you still have another shift tomorrow.”

Tan Qianshou bristled. “I’m two months younger than you.”

Liu Mu said, “But you look like wilted cabbage. Not fresh and sprightly like me.”

Tan Qianshou spat in mock contempt, then headed down from the wall to rest.

No sooner had Tan Qianshou descended the ramp than, on the side of the city wall closest to the mountain, several dark figures silently vaulted over the top. Their movements were astonishingly agile and utterly soundless. Their blades were wrapped in thick cloth to prevent the moonlight from catching on the steel. Once over the wall, these figures crept toward the few soldiers standing guard in that area, approaching from one side, moving swiftly to clamp hands over their mouths and stab them to death.

The early hours of the second watch were exactly when drowsiness began to set in. The newly rotated soldiers had only just woken and weren’t fully alert yet — the Heiwu infiltrators had timed their move deliberately for this moment.

They hadn’t struck the very night they arrived. Their purpose had been to observe the timing of the wall’s shift changes. When the soldiers on watch descended and the relief troops came up, there were inevitably gaps in coverage — especially near the mountain side, where the relief troops had farther to walk to reach their positions.

After silently killing the nearby soldiers, the infiltrators quickly lowered ropes they had been carrying on their backs, tying one end to the battlements. The Heiwu elites waiting below, seeing the ropes drop, immediately began to climb.

Liu Mu was making his rounds when his sharp instincts told him something was wrong with the movements of several dark figures nearby. He drew his blade at once and shouted, “Who goes there!”

The infiltrators saw Liu Mu approaching with his men. They exchanged glances, then raised their curved sabers and charged straight at him. Those already on the wall had to hold off the Chu soldiers and buy time for the others still climbing up.

The curved sabers told Liu Mu immediately that something was very wrong. He shouted the alarm, ordered the signal horn blown, then swung his blade down at one of the Heiwu elites.

What he hadn’t anticipated was that the Heiwu fighter’s martial skill was extraordinary. Liu Mu’s strike was already viciously powerful, but the Heiwu fighter was faster — sidestepping the blade and thrusting squarely into Liu Mu’s chest.

A sharp metallic clang rang out.

His breastplate was punched clean through with a hole. Had he not also been wearing chainmail beneath it, that thrust would have killed him outright.

Liu Mu’s shock lasted only an instant — he swept his blade horizontally to drive the Heiwu fighter back. His personal guards surged forward to press the advantage, but on the other side, two Heiwu fighters leaped into the air and flew clean over the heads of the crowd, both raising their crossbows and firing point-blank at Liu Mu.

Liu Mu swept his long blade in a wide arc before him, sending up a cascade of silver light. With a clatter of steel on steel, he deflected both bolts — but before he could counterattack, another Heiwu fighter came over the outer wall beside him, saw Liu Mu immediately, and hacked downward at the back of his neck.

Liu Mu sensed the danger and lunged forward to avoid the blow, but he was a half-step too slow. The curved saber sliced across his back and carved a long, deep wound.

The searing pain tore a shout from his throat. He spun around and swept his blade to drive the Heiwu fighter back, expecting his personal guards to still be at his side — but in that brief moment of confusion, the six or seven guards who had charged in were already sprawled on the ground.

These Heiwu fighters were terrifyingly skilled.

The Chu soldiers farther back surged forward, but they were blocked by more Heiwu warriors who had climbed over the wall — each one a formidable fighter. Six or seven of them formed a line across the wall, and the Chu troops could not break through to reach Liu Mu.

But at that very moment, Tan Qianshou came back.

He had forgotten to pass on a warning to Liu Mu — before he had gone down, Li Chi had asked him to be on guard against a Heiwu night raid. He’d only remembered after reaching the bottom and decided to come back and tell Liu Mu. When he arrived on the wall, the shouting told him something was wrong, and he broke into a run.

The moment he came up, he saw Liu Mu being surrounded by several dark-clad fighters. Tan Qianshou drew his blade and charged forward — and as he ran, he watched with his own eyes as Liu Mu took a saber blow to the shoulder. The blade went almost entirely into Liu Mu’s body.

Tan Qianshou’s eyes went wide. He charged in from behind and cut down the dark-clad attacker. The man’s blade was lodged in Liu Mu’s shoulder and couldn’t be pulled free in an instant.

Tan Qianshou grabbed hold of Liu Mu and found his old friend drenched in blood from head to toe — how many times he had been struck was impossible to tell. He looked close to done for.

“I’m getting you out of here!”

With one arm Tan Qianshou hoisted Liu Mu across his back, and blade in his right hand, fought his way back through the enemy. Behind them, a Heiwu fighter raised a crossbow and fired. It wasn’t a repeating crossbow, but its power was enormous. Tan Qianshou didn’t notice at all — but Liu Mu, draped over his shoulder and facing backward, did.

The bolt was coming. Liu Mu no longer had the strength to swing a blade, so he raised his arm and held it across the back of Tan Qianshou’s neck. With a dull thud, the bolt struck Liu Mu’s forearm, its tip stopped by the bone.

Liu Mu let out a low grunt, his face growing ever more ashen.

“Hold on!”

Tan Qianshou hacked and slashed his way through the dark-clad fighters and broke free.

On the other side, another dark-clad fighter raised a crossbow and loosed a bolt. Liu Mu was draped over Tan Qianshou’s shoulder, facing backward and watching behind them, and he saw this bolt coming too. He jerked his head down hard, using his own body to shield Tan Qianshou’s back. With a thud, the bolt pierced into Liu Mu’s back.

Tan Qianshou carried Liu Mu down the ramp and set him down, shouting loudly, “Get him to the physician at once!”

Liu Mu managed a faint smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not dying today.”

Tan Qianshou roared back, “You dare die?!”

Thud.

A broadsword nearly a foot wide came flying off the city wall and passed clean through Tan Qianshou’s chest — the blade nearly cut him in two.

Tan Qianshou stumbled. He looked down at the sword protruding from his chest, then looked at Liu Mu kneeling before him, struck dumb with horror. He managed a struggling smile, murmured something like *don’t worry, I’m fine*, and pitched forward to the ground.

—