The Hewu main camp.
Chizhu Liuli watched the forces retreating across the battlefield, his brow creasing deeper and deeper, his mood sinking into darkness.
This was not Jingluo Fu’s failure — the tactical execution had been sound. Against the old Chu border army, that assault would likely have already reached the city wall.
He had complete confidence in the crossbow wagons he had personally designed and overseen the construction of — he had named these formidable weapons the Formation Breakers. By every measure, they vastly outclassed the city wall’s defensive weapons as he knew them. Based on his understanding of the Chu border garrison, the old and worn mounted crossbows on those walls had barely half the range of his Formation Breakers.
And yet this battle had still disappointed him. He could only attribute the defeat to fate.
Prince Ning Li Chi had come. And he had replaced the Chu border army’s weapons wholesale.
This made no sense by any logic he applied. Li Chi was the man who had taken up arms against the Chu Emperor, the man who sought to topple Chu — why would he do this for the Chu border army? Even if Li Chi cared about the frontier, wouldn’t it have been simpler to replace the Chu border troops entirely with his own soldiers?
No sense. Not a shred of logic to it.
“Zhimoranr.”
Chizhu Liuli looked toward the Hewu official standing to one side. The man’s pure white robes already announced his identity — the Ghostmoon Clan used white as its noble color, forbidden to commoners. The Hewu imperial family’s ceremonial dress was primarily white and gold; disciples of the Sword Sect wore pure white.
The man named Zhimoranr turned and bowed: “Grand General. I am at your service.”
This man was the Deputy Divine Seat of Hewu’s Azure Bureau — second in the Bureau’s hierarchy only to the Divine Seat Muyu Guangming.
Muyu Guangming’s full name in Hewu was Bedesiyemsiwite — which in the Central Plains tongue meant roughly “Light Within the Rain.”
“Regarding intelligence on Prince Ning Li Chi — have you left anything out?”
Chizhu Liuli looked at Zhimoranr: “From the intelligence the Azure Bureau provided me, Prince Ning Li Chi has never interfered in Chu’s border army — has never touched a single one of their soldiers. Looking at what’s in front of us now, ‘interfered’ doesn’t begin to cover it.”
Zhimoranr’s expression was as impassive as his name suggested.
He answered without feeling: “Grand General. Every piece of confirmed intelligence the Azure Bureau gathered on this man was placed before you long ago. The file on Prince Ning Li Chi runs to over four hundred pages. From the moment he entered Jizhou, every action he has taken has been recorded in detail. If the Grand General actually read all of it, then you would know that all supplies to Chu’s border army originate from Prince Ning Li Chi.”
Chizhu Liuli said coldly: “Then did your intelligence ever mention that the Chu border army’s weapons had been upgraded to this extent?”
Zhimoranr said: “If the Azure Bureau were capable of knowing everything, then this campaign would not have required the Grand General at all — the Azure Bureau would have simply taken Jizhou ourselves.”
He looked at Chizhu Liuli, voice still entirely without inflection: “Is the Grand General looking for a scapegoat to explain why the first engagement was lost? If so, you have come to the wrong place by blaming the Azure Bureau.”
The Deputy Divine Seat of the Azure Bureau. First disciple of the Sword Sect’s master. Of noble birth. These combined made it so Zhimoranr had not the slightest reason to fear Chizhu Liuli — he even looked down on the way military men immediately sought to shift blame whenever anything went wrong.
Chizhu Liuli’s expression darkened further. He was just opening his mouth to respond when Zhimoranr had already turned his head away.
Not looking at him, Zhimoranr still delivered his final words: “Where Prince Ning Li Chi manufactures his weapons and what those weapons are — if such things could be so easily uncovered, does that not imply that Chu’s Emperor would also be easy to kill? Is the Grand General now going to blame the Azure Bureau for not having our agents assassinate Li Chi, or eliminate every Ning general — or perhaps for not having our people charging at the front lines of battle?”
Chizhu Liuli found himself with no response to any of it. He couldn’t stand the Azure Bureau’s self-important types, and he certainly knew that they couldn’t stand him.
The Azure Bureau and the military had always been at odds.
Jingluo Fu’s first engagement had ended with a loss of at least a thousand men. Against the scale of the Hewu force, those thousand were negligible — but the critical point was that those thousand soldiers had not even touched the city wall.
If the assault continued at this rate, the losses would not stay at a thousand.
The young general Qibotian, standing behind Chizhu Liuli, said quietly: “Grand General, perhaps we should turn to discussing military matters.”
Qibotian was young and proud, but he was not foolish. Jingluo Fu’s failure had not been due to Jingluo Fu’s incompetence — it was because the Chu border army’s equipment far exceeded everyone’s expectations. Chizhu Liuli gave a nod: “Agreed.”
He rose from the command position, turned, and walked toward the courtyard quarters in the central command area.
The village had been requisitioned for his use, its residents driven off. Where those residents had gone, he neither knew nor cared.
“Grand General, something is wrong.”
Anshi Nayi’s expression had gone slightly off: “I must excuse myself first — my stomach is really not agreeable right now.”
“Your stomach is upset too?”
Chizhu Liuli paused.
Over the past few days, a number of soldiers had been experiencing physical symptoms. He had assumed it was the unfamiliar climate and water, but looking at Anshi Nayi’s complexion now, he understood that the problem might be far more serious than he had thought.
“Summon the medical officer!”
Chizhu Liuli called out immediately.
Shortly after, in the courtyard.
Chizhu Liuli waited for the medical officer to arrive. His complexion had gone frighteningly pale. Those around him assumed it was Zhimoranr who had made him angry — none of them noticed that Chizhu Liuli’s hands were trembling faintly and continuously, impossible to still.
“Has the medical officer arrived yet?”
Chizhu Liuli asked suddenly. His attendants looked over at him, and only then did they notice that his lips had taken on a tinge of purple.
With a crash, Chizhu Liuli swayed and collapsed to the ground — so sudden that everyone present lurched in shock.
—
Beishan Pass.
Li Chi sat on the city wall with his legs dangling over the outside edge, swinging back and forth — looking just like that carefree child he had once been. Back then, he had traveled the rivers and lakes with his master, the Daoist Changmei. The days were lean and cold, but he had been completely without worry every single day, because his master had handled everything, and he could be a child without restraint.
Now, looking at this moment, where was there any room to be carefree? The whole of Jizhou rested on this one man’s shoulders.
Xiahou Zuo asked: “You really intend to stay on this wall until the enemy retreats?”
Li Chi said: “I meant what I said. Words out of my mouth have to mean something.”
Xiahou Zuo said: “You should at least go down to rest when you can — come back up when the enemy attacks.”
Li Chi shook his head: “Don’t try to talk me into it. I’m not going down. And you’re not allowed to either.”
Xiahou Zuo: “…”
He sighed: “If you won’t go down and I won’t go down — eating and drinking are manageable, but what about the other business.”
Li Chi stood up right there on the city wall, untied his trousers, and directed the flow outward over the edge. He spoke while doing it: “Let the Hewu men step in it!”
Xiahou Zuo covered his face: “And the other thing?”
Li Chi said: “Just squat here and let it go over the edge. What, are you questioning something? Are you suggesting that what goes over the edge is somehow less worthy than what already went? If the Hewu men can step in one, they can step in the other. You’re being very unfair.”
“Disgusting!”
Xiahou Zuo shot him a look, but an image formed unbidden in his mind — a row of them squatting on the battlements over the edge — if you looked up from outside the city, you’d see a row of bare backsides…
Xiahou Zuo shuddered involuntarily. The image was genuinely too much.
Just then, Yu Jiuling came running up from below, holding a letter.
“Chief, a letter from Jizhou City.”
Li Chi took it and asked: “Who sent it?”
“Master Shen,” Yu Jiuling said. “A worker from Shen Medical Hall — rode day and night to deliver it, just arrived at Beishan Pass.”
Li Chi thought something must have gone wrong in Jizhou City, and opened the letter quickly.
Then he went blank.
There were only seven characters in the letter. Shen Rujian’s hand was delicate and precise, the kind of writing that normally gave one a feeling of ease and warmth just to look at it.
But those seven characters had a smell that could make the spring breeze itself retreat.
Xiahou Zuo, seeing Li Chi’s expression change, asked: “Did something happen in Jizhou City? If it’s urgent, you can head back — I’ll hold things here.”
Li Chi passed the letter to Xiahou Zuo, then let out a long breath: “It looks like the plan we just discussed isn’t going to work.”
Xiahou Zuo took the letter and read it. His expression twisted into something impossible to categorize — a complexity beyond description.
The seven characters read: *Feces is useful — coat arrows with it.*
Those seven characters… the smell seemed to rise directly from the page and fill one’s nostrils, settling in the mind and refusing to leave.
Xiahou Zuo stood still for a good long moment, then looked at Li Chi: “This order — you should really be the one to give it.”
Li Chi said: “No, no, no — you’re the border garrison general. Military orders naturally come from you. At most I’ll assist by increasing my contribution. After all, I eat more, so — and actually, you’re welcome to use mine—”
Xiahou Zuo let out a sigh: “What you just said is somehow worse than those seven characters.”
He suddenly recalled what Li Chi had said a moment ago — that their plan wouldn’t work. “What plan did you mean?” he asked.
Li Chi stared at him like he’d lost his mind: “Weren’t we just talking about squatting on the wall and letting it fall on the Hewu men?”
Xiahou Zuo turned away: “Consider that question unasked.”
Just then, a team of soldiers came up carrying shoulder poles and baskets, bringing meals to the soldiers on duty along the wall.
Xiahou Zuo had been hungry, but now every time he thought of those seven characters, a wave of nausea rose in his throat.
Still, he knew he couldn’t go without eating. If the enemy attacked again in the afternoon, where would the strength to fight come from?
He had been about to put some distance between himself and Li Chi, but now he turned back and sat down across from him: “I’ll get back to resenting you after I eat.”
Li Chi said: “You can’t even get food down — I’d be resenting you, not the other way around. What’s so hard about—”
Xiahou Zuo said: “Yes, yes, Prince Ning is formidable, I am not.”
The soldiers set the food in front of them. To keep the fresh-from-the-oven steamed buns from going cold, the basket was covered with a cloth.
When Xiahou Zuo lifted the cloth, steam rose from the white steamed buns, carrying with it the warm scent of flour.
Then he looked at what had been sent to eat with them, and his expression shifted again.
In wartime there were no luxuries — no three-dish spreads or five-dish banquets. The simpler and faster the food could fill stomachs, the better. Hot steamed buns were already a blessing, but…
The side dish accompanying the white steamed buns was… scallion dipped in paste.
Li Chi looked over at Xiahou Zuo, then burst out laughing. Xiahou Zuo gave him a hard stare.
Li Chi picked up a bun: “I’ll start eating first, in your honor.”
Xiahou Zuo tilted his head back to look at the sky, muttering to himself: “Why… why do you always manage to make anything ordinary collapse into such chaos…”
—