When Yu Chaozong had first built the mountain stronghold, he had already scouted the retreat routes — yet where in this world are there truly plans without flaw?

To want the front mountain easily defended and difficult to attack, while also having enough space to construct a proper stronghold, made it impossible to also guarantee a wide, easily traversable retreat path. Otherwise, what kind of retreat route would that even be? It would be nothing more than another avenue of attack for enemies during a siege.

In truth, it was not really a path at all — merely a way through to the rear of the mountain.

Once over, on the hidden side of the mountain, lay a small encampment that Yanshan Camp had built: modest in scale, with some stored provisions.

The Censor Guards shepherded everyone through the rear passage into the mountains, moving toward the back slope, hacking a way open as they went.

Zhuang Wudi had been at the front the whole time, silently chopping down the trees that barred their path, not saying a single word.

Watching him like this, Gao Xining grew more and more uneasy, the feeling that something was deeply wrong refusing to leave her.

Earlier, Zhuang Wudi had told her that Elder Brother Yu intended to stay behind to burn the granary and storehouse before catching up — that Elder Brother Yu didn’t want to leave anything for the White Mountain bandits.

But the column had been making its way through the mountains for about two hours now, and no one had come from behind. And the more she looked at Zhuang Wudi, the more it seemed like he was putting on a deliberate show of calm.

Zhuang Wudi was a man of few words to begin with, and he had insisted on taking the lead to clear the path precisely because he didn’t want to say too much to Gao Xining.

He knew she was too perceptive; the more he spoke, the more likely he was to slip up. Yu Chaozong had instructed him exactly so.

Yu Chaozong had told him to stay quiet and keep clearing the path, and to speak only after he had gotten Gao Xining and the others safely away.

“Elder Brother Zhuang!”

Gao Xining finally caught up, running to just behind Zhuang Wudi and calling out: “Elder Brother Yu — he’s not coming, is he?”

She asked directly.

Zhuang Wudi’s body went rigid in an instant. A moment later, his shoulders began to tremble faintly.

“How could that be…”

He answered with three words without turning around, then kept hacking at the undergrowth.

“There’s only this one way out, isn’t there?”

Gao Xining pressed again.

Earlier, Yu Chaozong had told Zhuang Wudi to deceive Gao Xining by claiming there were two small trails leading to the rear mountain — the one Zhuang Wudi was now leading them along, and another running from the granary toward the back slope.

Zhuang Wudi had told Gao Xining that after Elder Brother Yu burned the granary, he would take the other brothers along the second trail to the rear mountain, and they would meet at a prearranged point on the northern slope.

Zhuang Wudi stopped again, not daring to turn around. He knew that the moment he did, Gao Xining would look into his eyes and see the lie.

“Sister-in-law.”

After a heavy pause, Zhuang Wudi stepped forward again. “Keep walking.”

Gao Xining looked back. Flames were rising from the direction of the stronghold, thick black smoke roiling upward. Elder Brother Yu was most likely already gone.

She turned back, raised her right hand, and called out: “Censor Guards!”

“Here!”

Her people answered as one.

“Sister-in-law!”

Zhuang Wudi spun around, tears streaming down his face.

“Elder Brother said — he is the elder brother.”

Zhuang Wudi raised his hand and wiped at his eyes with such force that the rubbing left them aching. He was wretched with grief, words forced out from between clenched teeth.

“If you go back now, will Elder Brother’s death have been for nothing? And what about them? What about Director Gao?”

Zhuang Wudi looked back at those who had followed: Lady Xiahou, Xiahou Yili, the Yuan Jiabei family, the Liu Yingyuan family, Aunt Wu’s family, Master Sun and Mistress Sun and their household…

Gao Xining’s raised hand froze in midair.

Zhuang Wudi let out a long, slow breath and said: “Do not fail those who have died. Do not fail those who still live.”

He turned back and kept hacking — at the branches and wild grass that blocked the way ahead. The backs of his hands were laced with cuts, bleeding freely, but he paid them no mind.

“Sister-in-law, Elder Brother truly accepted you as his sister-in-law… Elder Brother said, if you figured it out, to ask you this: if Li Chi comes back and finds the stronghold taken, what is the very first thing he will do?”

Zhuang Wudi asked as he walked.

Gao Xining knew — the very first thing Li Chi would do would absolutely not be leading his men in a suicidal charge against twenty thousand White Mountain troops. It would be going to the rear mountain to see how many people had survived.

“I know.”

Gao Xining slowly lowered her hand. The Censor Guards were still watching her.

Gao Xining turned toward Yanshan Camp’s direction and knelt, pressing her forehead to the ground in a deep kowtow. As she knelt, Xiahou Yili and the others all knelt beside her.

A sound rose in unison as the Censor Guards turned and stood at attention, saluting toward the place where the thick smoke billowed.

Their right hands rested over their hearts — yet nothing could ease the ache within.

“Censor Guards.”

Gao Xining rose to her feet and looked ahead.

“Continue forward.”

She called out in a clear voice, though it had grown ever so slightly hoarse.

Zhuang Wudi’s words had reminded her — Li Chi would never, upon returning, charge straight at the White Mountain bandits.

Even if all eight thousand of his men came back, attacking twenty thousand White Mountain troops backed by Youzhou forces would be nothing but suicide.

Li Chi was not a god. He had no way to conjure soldiers from thin air, no way to lead eight thousand men against two hundred thousand and emerge victorious.

He would make straight for the rear mountain to see who had survived. Only if he arrived there and found no one — only then would he have reason to fight the White Mountain bandits to the death.

A Li Chi with nothing left — how could such a man go on living alone?

Gao Xining was certain that Li Chi would even disband those eight thousand men and go to seek vengeance alone.

Either he would kill his enemy, or his enemy would kill him.

In this world, no one could charge alone into an army of two hundred thousand and survive.

Zhuang Wudi heard Gao Xining give the order, and so he let out another long, slow breath and kept hacking forward with all his strength.

—

Yanshan Camp.

Fire was burning everywhere, the blaze growing larger by the moment.

Lao Suize, the paramount chief of the White Mountain Army, walked up at an unhurried pace and looked at the man who had died standing — refusing to fall even in death. His eyes were filled with something like awe.

“This man is Yu Chaozong?”

Lao Suize studied the man with careful attention, murmuring as if to himself: “Was he not said to have died in battle in Jizhou? So he made it back alive…”

A subordinate replied: “We can confirm this is Yu Chaozong. Before he died, he said — ‘My one regret is that I was only ever called King of the Greenwood, and never named Son of Heaven.’ This man fought on until his last breath, coughing blood even as he killed over a hundred of our brothers. We should flog his corpse in vengeance for our fallen!”

Lao Suize raised a hand toward Yu Chaozong’s body and shook his head. “Bring the body over here. There will be no desecration.”

His men hurried over and carried Yu Chaozong’s remains back.

After a long silence, Lao Suize gave his orders: “Clean the body, wash his face and prepare him properly, change his garments. Find timber and have a coffin made. He shall be buried here… This man was defeated, yet he commands my respect.”

A subordinate could not understand. “He killed so many of our brothers. Why give him an honorable burial?”

Lao Suize pointed to the place where Yu Chaozong had stood his ground. “If I have guessed correctly, he fought to his last breath guarding that one small path for the people he cared about. To act with such righteousness — who else could do such a thing? He is already gone…”

Lao Suize paused, then turned to face Yu Chaozong’s remains and clasped his fists in a respectful salute. “I honor you. You are worthy of the King of the Greenwood title.”

Lao Suize’s men cleaned and prepared Yu Chaozong’s body. When they extracted the arrowheads, they counted thirty-nine. Beyond those, Yu Chaozong bore at least seventeen or eighteen additional wounds. Every drop of blood had already left him.

They found planks of wood and nailed together a coffin. A young man noticed, not far away, a banner that had been half-consumed by fire — the half that remained still bore the characters for Green-Browed Army.

He picked up the tattered banner, shook the dirt from it, and laid it inside the coffin, across Yu Chaozong’s chest.

He looked to be about twenty years of age. His expression was grave.

“Father.”

He looked toward Lao Suize, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating in front of so many men.

This young man was Lao Yi, Lao Suize’s only son.

Lao Suize glanced at him, understood that he had words to speak, but that it was not easy to say them aloud before so many others. He nodded. “Come with me.”

Lao Yi fell in step behind Lao Suize, and the two of them walked along the mountain path, one after the other.

“What do you want to say?”

Lao Suize asked.

Lao Yi’s tone was heavy as he answered: “I think we were wrong.”

“Oh?”

Lao Suize stopped and turned to look at Lao Yi. “Why do you say that? This battle destroyed Yanshan Camp — our White Mountain Army’s name will ring across all of Jizhou, and may even spread throughout the land. Why do you say we were wrong?”

Lao Yi replied: “I think we may have walked into Luo Geng’s scheme… Yes, we won this battle, but there were fewer than three thousand people in the entire stronghold combined. We used two hundred thousand men to fight three thousand. There is no glory in that kind of victory.”

Lao Suize frowned.

Lao Yi knew his words would displease his father, yet he gathered his nerve and continued.

“Father, Yanshan Camp and our forces had no grievance between us. If this were a matter of seizing territory and contending for the realm — two armies meeting in battle, victory or defeat settled by fate — there would be no right or wrong to speak of.”

“But now, even though we have destroyed Yanshan Camp, will we truly have a good name for it? The people of northern Jizhou all held Yu Chaozong in high esteem. After this battle, the common folk of Jizhou will see us as their enemies — and that may be exactly what Luo Geng hoped to see.”

At those words, Lao Suize’s expression shifted visibly. He had not thought of it from that angle. He had only wanted to establish power and fame in Jizhou as quickly as possible.

Nor did he particularly care about being exposed — by the time word of Yanshan Camp’s destruction reached Jizhou proper, he would have already led his forces to the walls of Jizhou City. Even if the Yanzhou Military Commissioner Zhou Shiren learned of it, it would be too late, for his army would already have joined hands with the Youzhou forces to encircle the Yanzhou Army.

“Father.”

Lao Yi continued: “Yanshan Camp’s full strength is certainly more than two or three thousand men. I asked captured Green-Browed Army soldiers earlier — they said the current chief is called Li Chi, and that he led eight thousand men northwest.”

He looked at his father and said: “Even setting aside questions of reputation and public opinion — the greatest mistake we made in this battle is…”

Lao Yi spoke each word with deliberate weight: “We failed… to cut out the roots entirely.”

Lao Suize went still, his eyes flickering.

After a long pause, Lao Suize asked: “Then what is your thinking?”

Lao Yi said: “Since we must bear the ill name regardless, there is nothing more to hesitate over. The stronghold has been burned, the people who could be killed have been killed — to brood over the rest is meaningless.”

“But if we fail to cut out the roots, the trouble that follows will be endless.”

Lao Yi gripped his sword hilt, fingers tightening, for what he was contemplating was something merciless.

“That Li Chi is Yu Chaozong’s sworn brother. As long as he breathes, he will seek vengeance.”

He looked at his father. “We cannot let this simply be left at that. If we do, we will have taken the blame and left the threat behind both.”

Lao Suize thought for a moment, then nodded. “I will leave you fifty thousand men. Take them and set an ambush here. If that Li Chi returns, kill all of them — then come join me in Jizhou.”

He let out a slow breath, smiled, and said to Lao Yi: “You are sharper than your old father. I may have to learn from you more often from now on… I will also leave the Cleaver Battalion with you. Di Chun has the might of ten thousand men — from now on, he serves as your right hand.”

Lao Yi clasped his fists in salute: “Your son will eliminate what remains of Yanshan Camp with all speed, then join Father in Jizhou.”

—