The evening of the following day, Luo Zhijie instructed a servant to heat water for Luo Jing — the young general had a habit of taking hot baths.

The weather in Anyang, you’d think, should be warmer than up in Youzhou. But somehow it felt even colder.

And the cold here by the river was different from Youzhou’s cold — it seeped into the bones. Like ice water threading through every pore and drilling all the way down to the marrow.

Though the days were indeed noticeably warmer than in Youzhou, and as long as you kept away from the riverbank, the biting chill wasn’t so damaging.

These soldiers were quicker to adapt to new environments than ordinary people.

Luo Zhijie came to fetch Luo Jing and told him the water was ready.

Luo Jing rose and made his way to the bathing room.

Luo Zhijie followed behind, thinking to himself: the young general’s killing aura hasn’t faded yet.

After flogging Ding Shengjia to death, that aura still lingered — and it worried Luo Zhijie.

He knew the young general’s killing aura wasn’t truly directed at Ding Shengjia and the others. It was aimed at Prince Wu Yang Jiju.

If the inference he and Li Chi had made was correct, Prince Wu Yang Jiju’s forces could appear on the southern bank of the Nanping River at any moment.

“Young General…”

Luo Zhijie hesitated. “Today, when you met with the scouts who had returned — is it…”

His question was still forming when Luo Jing, walking ahead of him, gave a single nod. “Yes.”

Luo Zhijie’s heart seized.

So Prince Wu had indeed arrived.

“Young General…”

“No need to counsel me.”

Luo Jing paused at the doorway and looked back at Luo Zhijie. “Go and rest. I’ll be soaking for a while. Don’t let anyone come and disturb me.”

Luo Zhijie bowed in acknowledgment, stepping backward with a bent posture as he retreated.

Luo Jing said, “You’re worried I can’t hold myself back — now that I know that old bastard has arrived, you’re afraid I’ll lose my patience and send the army across.”

Luo Zhijie didn’t dare be dishonest. “Yes… this subordinate cannot hide his thoughts from the Young General.”

“Put your mind at ease.”

Luo Jing smiled at him. “I’m not going.”

Luo Zhijie exhaled with relief in his heart.

Luo Jing said, “Do you know why I had Ding Shengjia and those Anyang generals killed today?”

Luo Zhijie replied, “Ding Shengjia presumed upon his merit, overstepped repeatedly, killed people without once consulting the Young General, went about trumpeting that without him the Young General could never have entered Anyang — conduct most disrespectful…”

Luo Jing said, “If that were all, I wouldn’t have killed him. He was given to me by Li Chi — I can ignore everyone else’s feelings, but not Li Chi’s.”

Luo Zhijie offered another reason: “He was drunk and raving, and actually dared to point his finger at the Young General as he spoke…”

Luo Jing shook his head. “That’s not the whole of it.”

He looked at Luo Zhijie, and smiled. “I knew the old bastard was nearly at the Nanping River. The killing intent inside me was too heavy. If I didn’t bleed some of it off, I was afraid I might truly lose control and cross the river to fight him.”

Luo Zhijie felt that tightly held breath finally release completely.

The Young General had not gained killing aura — he had shed it. What remained on him now was only the residue.

Luo Jing said, “Tomorrow, arrange for men to cross the Nanping River to the southern bank. Have them plant a few banners on the south side — no need to leave troops, just plant the flags.”

Luo Zhijie acknowledged the order at once.

The next morning he dispatched men across the river, and at a point of high ground on the southern bank, they planted several large banners bearing the Luo character.

By afternoon, an enormous dark mass had appeared on the southern bank — as dense and black as storm clouds settling to earth.

Prince Wu Yang Jiju had reached the riverbank, and the first thing he saw were those Luo-character banners planted on the heights.

His heart clenched. He knew Anyang City was finished.

Prince Wu drew a long, slow breath, trying to press down the wave of fury rising in his chest.

He stared at the banners again. Somehow they seemed to take on the face of Luo Jing’s father, Luo Geng, grinning down at him with mockery.

The flag snapped in the wind, as if whispering… Old bastard, my son will avenge me.

“Your Highness.”

A general bowed. “Your subordinate will send men to pull those flags down at once.”

“No need.”

Prince Wu shook his head. “Let them stand. Let our men look at them. You see a banner from Youzhou planted on the southern bank of the Nanping River — you think it’s a provocation. I see a warning…”

“Meng Kedi was arrogant and proud, convinced there was no opponent in all the world. That arrogance destroyed him. Remember it well — the young man in Anyang City right now has been hailed as the Unrivaled of the Northern Frontier.”

Prince Wu turned his horse and rode away.

“Pass the order: pull back ten li and make camp.”

A subordinate asked in confusion: “Your Highness, why not hold the bank?”

“You want us to guard the shore so carefully that when he decides to cross, he’ll have time to get his formation in order and his defenses set before making the attempt?”

Prince Wu glanced back once toward the direction of Anyang City on the far bank, and smiled. “He’s better than his father. Luo Geng’s greatest failing in all his years was that he couldn’t keep his temper.”

He paused, and asked, “What day is it today?”

“Your Highness, today is the fifteenth of the first month.”

“Auspicious day.”

Prince Wu nodded. “Pass the word — have the soldiers make ready. Perform the dragon dance on the bank. Find red lanterns. Dress up the southern bank a little…”

He smiled. “Northerners favor dragon dances, southerners favor lion dances. We are the hosts here, and guests have come — we welcome them with a dragon dance.”

Before full dark had fallen, the southern bank was ablaze with red lanterns and bonfires and torches without number.

—

Northern bank.

Luo Jing sat astride his horse, holding a spyglass trained on the southern bank.

The longer he looked, the heavier the killing intent became inside him. The killing aura bled off when he killed Ding Shengjia had come surging right back in the space of a moment.

“The old traitor wants to make my Youzhou soldiers homesick.”

Luo Jing lowered the spyglass and let out a long, heavy breath.

He read the cunning intent behind it, and it was dark indeed.

Then somehow — inexplicably — Li Chi’s words surfaced in his mind.

Just keep your patience for now. Why fight for a single moment of glory? How old is Prince Wu? How old are you?

At that, Luo Jing broke into a great laugh.

His generals all looked at him, wondering if the display across the water had unhinged him.

Luo Jing thought: if one of the Ning Army’s people were here and saw Prince Wu’s arrangement, what would they do?

He turned it over and over, and couldn’t work it out.

He decided it was probably because his own skin wasn’t thick enough yet — and that was why he couldn’t work out how Li Chi would react.

But he did think of something entertaining, and issued an order: “On the way back, hold nothing back — bring in as many craftsmen as you can find… They’re out there doing their dragon dance on the southern bank, are they?”

“Find enough men, and spend the night making some paper effigies — a few figures of the God of Longevity. Make them big. Make them elaborate.”

Luo Jing turned his horse and started back.

“They dance on the south bank, we dance on the north bank. When we’re done dancing, we burn them to him.”

With that, he spurred his horse forward.

That night, Luo Zhijie sent word through the entire city, tracking down every paper craftsman to be found. They were gathered together and worked through the night without rest, and by morning had produced four or five enormous paper figures — the God of Longevity with his high, rounded forehead.

For the clothing of these Longevity Gods, someone had painted the robes in rough approximation of Prince Wu’s princely garments.

Not long after daybreak, the Youzhou soldiers carried these figures down to the open ground on the northern bank, drums and gongs crashing, circling around bonfires while hoisting the figures aloft.

On the southern bank, Prince Wu raised his spyglass to watch, and his expression grew increasingly dark.

A general beside him snorted. “This Luo Jing is truly childish and laughable.”

Another man said, “Our side had dragon dances and lanterns — and he came up with a few big-headed paper dolls. He really thought he could counter us with that?”

They mocked Luo Jing, but Prince Wu’s expression was going from bad to worse.

And then the Youzhou troops on the far bank hurled those God of Longevity figures into the bonfires and burned them all to ash.

The hand holding Prince Wu’s spyglass trembled — just barely.

At that moment, the Youzhou soldiers came to the riverbank and lined up in formation, shouting together in unison across the water.

“Our General says — burning these Gods of Longevity, praying for long life and prosperity for Prince Wu!”

“All through Dachu the chaos grows, Prince Wu rushes to every front — save Jizhou lose Qingzhou, save Yuzhou lose Jizhou, save Anyang lose Jingzhou, next day the capital falls.”

“Prince Wu leads his troops with no rival, only curses that he cannot split himself, back and forth he runs without rest, rolling, spinning like an egg.”

“May Prince Wu be blessed with boundless fortune, eternal life, and save Dachu for ten thousand years more.”

Several thousand Youzhou soldiers stood there shouting without pause — those words had clearly been composed the night before.

All of it was crude. All of it was effective.

The look on Prince Wu’s face had reached the furthest edge of black, and even the generals under his command were nearly smoking with rage.

These men had followed Prince Wu across battlefields for years without a single defeat. Today, without a single battle having been fought, they were subjected to mockery like this.

As a weapon, it had no killing power whatsoever. As an insult, it ground into the bone.

“Your Highness!”

One man clasped his fists. “Your subordinate begs for the order — I will cross the Nanping River right now and raze Anyang City to the ground!”

“Your subordinate also begs to fight!”

“Your Highness, give the order!”

Prince Wu set down the spyglass. His face was a pallid white.

“Withdraw.”

He said two words, ice cold.

He wheeled his horse around. Then, without warning, he began to cough — and coughed hard — and a mouthful of blood sprayed out, and his body swayed, and he toppled from the saddle.

Everyone was terrified at once. They scrambled down from their horses to catch him.

—

Northern bank.

Luo Jing saw it happen. He flung his spyglass to the ground and laughed until the sky rang with it.

“Old bastard — your time is nearly done!”

Luo Jing laughed at the heavens, more joyful than when he had smoothly taken Anyang — ten times more joyful, a hundred times, a thousand times.

He turned to look at Luo Zhijie. “Go back and get those paper craftsmen again. Have them make some ginseng, deer antler, and lingzhi mushrooms out of paper. Tomorrow, come back here and burn them to him!”

With that, still laughing, he turned and rode away.

Whatever else could be said, this time Prince Wu had lost.

Luo Jing had suddenly discovered Prince Wu’s greatest weakness — Prince Wu also knew he was old.

In terms of warfare, this could not even be called a dishonorable victory.

If their positions were reversed, Prince Wu would have done the same — and more savagely.

—

Inside the great tent, Prince Wu lay on his cot, eyes fixed on the top of the tent in a blank stare.

If his skill at arms was lacking, he could drill relentlessly. If his fortune was poor, he could push himself harder. Nearly every weakness in this world could be fought into submission.

But not age.

It was an absolute weakness. No solution existed.

Even later, if Prince Wu again took to the battlefield and won — if he beat a young man like Luo Jing — the events of today would still be like a thorn buried deep in Prince Wu’s heart, buried too deep to pull out.

He stared at the tent’s top for a very long time. Everyone inside held their breath and did not dare make a sound.

“Pass the order.”

Prince Wu let out a slow breath.

“The entire army is to withdraw in sequence, pulling back in an unhurried and orderly manner, thirty li each day. After three days of withdrawal, make camp. Continue each day thereafter until we have fallen back a full hundred li to Jinfeng County.”

Prince Wu closed his eyes.

“I am indeed very old. The natural order cannot be reversed. But Luo Jing — this old man can still see you into the underworld ahead of me.”

He murmured the words to himself, and then said nothing more.

—