There were many strange and fantastical legends in the Lingxi region, and among the most widely circulated was the legend of the Kuyi clan’s transformation into a bixi.

Legend had it that in ancient times, Lingxi was nothing like the parched wasteland it is today. Its hills were blanketed with wetlands and dense forests, and rare exotic beasts could be found everywhere.

The Kuyi clan were beast tamers. It was said that every member of the clan could communicate with both land creatures and birds, and even the rarest of beasts would emerge at their summons.

But the heavens are unpredictable. Perhaps the gods themselves felt that such a gift was an act of defiance against the natural order and resolved to destroy the Kuyi clan. Without warning, torrential rains fell upon Lingxi, which had always known fair weather. Dark clouds blanketed the sky for months on end. The downpour caused rivers to swell and burst their banks. Wetlands became lakes, and lakes swelled and merged until the whole of Lingxi was nothing but a vast sea.

The Kuyi clan were stranded atop an isolated mountain, the entire clan, old and young alike, waiting in terror for death. Overcome with grief, the clan chief climbed to the peak and prostrated himself completely, surrendering to the heavens, then slit his own throat at the cliff’s edge as a blood offering, hoping to win the gods’ forgiveness.

Perhaps it truly was that tearful and humble plea that moved the divine. The chief’s body, which had fallen from the cliff into the floodwaters below, suddenly blazed with a brilliant light. Then, a colossal bixi surfaced from the water. It carried the remaining members of the Kuyi clan upon its back, shielding them from the flood’s reach, and led them to a new land before disappearing into the boundless sea.

From that day forward, the descendants of the Kuyi clan revered the bixi as a deity. Each year, on the anniversary of that miracle, they held sacrificial rites in remembrance of the ancestor who had won them their chance at survival.

Such was the legend of the Kuyi clan’s transformation into a bixi.

Why had Xiao Nanhui found herself thinking of this legend?

Because right now, she felt like that turtle.

No — she couldn’t even claim to be a proper turtle. She was nothing more than a wretched tortoise.

With Hao Bai dragged along in her left hand and Su Pingchuan hauled along in her right, Wu Xiaoliu slung across her shoulders, she sprinted eastward without stopping. The Sanmu Pass was now dangerously ambiguous and could no longer be used, and Famang Ridge was an active battlefield between the two sides. Their only option was to cross the Tianmu River and head out from the southeast.

She had nearly died crossing the river.

Though the rivers and lakes of Lingxi did not freeze, the river water in the depths of winter was still cold enough to ache down to the bone. She did not dare cut timber to build a raft — a raft carrying four living adults would be far too conspicuous. Her only option was to swim across.

Aside from herself, the other three were all hopeless when it came to water, and each was either wounded or crippled. She had no choice but to carry them one by one on her back, crossing from one bank to the other. No matter how skilled a swimmer she was, by the third crossing she was so frozen that her hands and feet had gone numb, and her lungs felt as though they were on the verge of icing over.

For those final few yards, she sustained herself entirely through self-hypnosis — convincing herself that she was that legendary tortoise from the tale — and somehow managed to drag herself ashore on her last breath, bringing all three to relative safety.

Once past the Tianmu River, they were beginning to put distance between themselves and Bijiang. On the night they left the riverbank, she nearly lost control of the relief that washed over her, and that one exhale sent her into a sleep that lasted a full day and night. When she finally woke, Wu Xiaoliu was already sitting up on his own, slurping at dry rations soaked in hot water.

His thick layer of fat had saved his life. Whatever that strike had been — that slash that had cleaved through the air — it had cut from his left shoulder all the way to his right hip, yet miraculously missed every vital organ.

Of course, much of that was owed to Hao Bai. Even in such dire conditions, he always managed to find strange herbs from one place or another, mix them with the odd powders in his little medicine chest, and slather the whole concoction over Wu Xiaoliu’s skin. The smell was genuinely awful, but the flesh was visibly knitting itself back together before their eyes.

Su Pingchuan’s poison had also been mostly purged. He could now walk without assistance, and she estimated it would take no more than ten days or half a month before he was back to the vigorous, spirited state in which he had sparred with her.

By all accounts, things were improving, and they had indeed escaped with their lives. Yet there remained a small, dark cloud hanging over Xiao Nanhui’s heart, casting a shadow over her dreams.

What had that slash been, the one that had struck from across a distance? What was its connection to those deadly flying wires? And what was Pu Huna’s true purpose?

And then there was the matter Su Pingchuan had mentioned.

She was no longer in Bijiang, but the night hawk would identify her and would certainly find a way to follow. She did not know how much time she had, and she had to work out her next move before it arrived.

Beyond the Tianmu River basin, the landscape shifted back to desolate gobi, a vast, unbroken plain of sand and stone where not even a four-legged lizard could be spotted. Fortunately, dark clouds drifting in from the north had blotted out the sun, and the air felt somewhat less arid.

But Xiao Nanhui knew they had to move quickly out of the desert. If snow came, their situation would become even more dire.

Their current position had drifted from the road back to Tong City. They were now roughly approaching the Bailu Hills in the southern part of Lingxi. If her estimate was correct, passing through those hills would bring them to Wancheng.

Appealing as the name “Bailu Hills” sounded, it was in truth a labyrinthine place full of twisting paths from which there was no exit, and without a guide, one could very well spend an entire lifetime lost inside it.

After some deliberation, Xiao Nanhui led her three hangers-on to make a temporary camp at the edge of the hills.

As night fell, she lit a campfire and called the three of them over, gathering everyone to sit around the flames.

In the past few days, for fear of pursuit, they had not dared use open fire — even boiling water had relied on embers alone. Now, with this warmth available to them, even the wilderness felt almost comfortable.

The firelight illuminated four weary faces. She noticed that Hao Bai’s white robes had turned gray.

“Time is short, so I’ll be brief.” Xiao Nanhui stacked stones around the campfire to form a windbreak, carefully sheltering the flame. “From here, you’ll have to make your own way.”

The air fell silent for a moment. Wu Xiaoliu opened his mouth in disbelief. His tone was one of shock, but his exhaustion made it sound completely flat.

“You’re going to abandon us?”

“The Bai Family people shouldn’t come after you now. I’ll send someone to escort you to Wancheng. She should arrive in three or four days. All you need to do is wait right here. She’ll also bring food and water — enough to get you through Bailu Hills.”

Wu Xiaoliu still refused to accept her arrangements. “Your person? Who exactly? Can they be trusted? Don’t try to trick us.”

Xiao Nanhui was also a little impatient. “Why would I trick you? She’s my personal handmaid — completely reliable.”

Su Pingchuan had just been raising water to his lips when he heard this, and he choked and spat the mouthful out. “A handmaid? You’re sending a handmaid to rescue us in this godforsaken place?”

“She is no ordinary handmaid.” She paused, then added, “She has a far worse temper than any ordinary handmaid, so when you meet her, be careful. After that, if all goes smoothly and you make it to Wancheng, go seek shelter at the An Dao Institute. Hao Bai may also return home on his own. Wancheng is the Ding Wang’s territory — even if Lu Songping were to rebel, he wouldn’t dare provoke it in a short time.”

Hao Bai asked, in a muffled tone, “Then where are you going?”

Xiao Nanhui laid the last stone in place. “I still have something I need to do. I’ll meet up with you later.”

She had barely finished speaking when a small figure appeared in the sky, approaching from a distance.

It was a night hawk.

She rose to her feet and dusted herself off. Without glancing at the expressions on the others’ faces, she stepped aside onto a barren patch of ground and tucked the coded letter she had already prepared into the night hawk’s message cylinder.

She was not particularly good at explaining things she could not quite articulate, and she was equally poor at farewells.

A spy within the ranks was a grave transgression for any army. Moreover, if what Su Pingchuan had said was true — that it had already compromised their advantage in battle — then this person must hold a position of considerable standing. Time was precious. She could not afford to wait. She had to go herself.

That night, everyone was unusually silent.

Wu Xiaoliu seemed to be angry with her and ate an extraordinary amount of dry rations in one sitting. Hao Bai, being a member of the Qu Family at heart, was naturally clear-minded enough not to ask many questions; he simply pressed an orange-red medicinal pill into Xiao Nanhui’s hand. Su Pingchuan disappeared somewhere in the second half of the night — she guessed he had gone off to sulk somewhere on his own.

Past midnight, as the sky began to pale faintly in the east, Xiao Nanhui packed her meager belongings, strapped Pingxian to her back, and was just about to leave when she turned around and found Su Pingchuan crouching on a hilltop nearby, gazing at her with a deeply aggrieved expression.

She startled and took a few steps back. “You gave me such a fright, appearing without a sound — are you trying to kill me?”

“I know what you’re planning to do. Take me with you, or you’re not going anywhere.”

She believed him.

From everything she had seen, Su Pingchuan was a stubborn one. If she did not knock him unconscious, there was a real chance he would follow her for ten li before stopping.

“Besides you, who else knows there is a spy in the army?”

Su Pingchuan shook his head. “The marching route is strictly classified. I am the only one who knows the route has been compromised.”

“Then wouldn’t returning to camp with that face of yours be walking straight into your own death? Those people would never let you set foot inside the command tent, knowing you hadn’t died. And even if by some luck you made it through, once the enemy knows you’ve come back, they’ll be on guard. How would you then draw out the spy?”

Su Pingchuan turned his head away. “I don’t care. There will be a way. This is my business — don’t think you can leave me out of it.”

Taking a deep breath, she reined in her patience and explained her plan to him in detail, then went through the advantages of going alone and the drawbacks of bringing him along until her mouth was dry and her tongue ached.

By the end, she had nearly convinced herself. But Su Pingchuan, furious and flushed, cut her off.

“This is reckless desperation!”

It seemed every drop of saliva she had spent was wasted. Looking at his agitated face, she felt the blood rushing straight to the top of her head. “Then what?! Do you have a better idea?!”

Su Pingchuan puffed out his cheeks and furrowed his brows, sinking into deep thought. In the end, he could not produce a single word.

Ha. She knew it would come to this.

“I’m only telling you this as a courtesy — I never expected you to offer a good suggestion, and I certainly don’t intend to follow any suggestion you might give. Nor do I intend to bring you along. If you insist on wasting time here with me, I’ll simply have to knock you unconscious.”

She didn’t want to keep causing trouble for Hao Bai.

If it really came to it, she could tie him up — but this fellow had been recovering his strength these past few days and was nearly back to full form. She honestly wasn’t sure she could restrain him.

Xiao Nanhui was still calculating how to shake Su Pingchuan off when the man suddenly sat down on the ground and began murmuring to himself. “Do you know — for this campaign against Bijiang, His Majesty has joined the battle in person.”

Xiao Nanhui froze. For a moment, an image flashed unbidden through her mind — the Black Feather Division archers she had seen on the cliff face at Sanmu Pass that day.

No wonder. The Emperor had taken to the field himself, so that was why the Black Feather Division had appeared in Lingxi.

It seemed she had underestimated the Emperor’s resolve this time.

“Xiao Nanhui, do you understand what it means for the Emperor to lead the campaign in person? How tangled the relationships between the generals and ministers in his camp must be? Before you were promoted to Right General, you had barely any exposure to affairs at court — what makes you confident you can resolve this matter on your own, and resolve it cleanly?”

Su Pingchuan’s questions were not without merit.

But so what? Even without skill in political maneuvering, she had her own methods.

“Since you say the situation is so complicated, and everyone in the army is a potential suspect, then I’ll find the one person who is absolutely beyond suspicion.”

Xiao Nanhui suddenly felt as though a door had opened before her, and even the biting air seemed to turn crisp and clear.

“I’ll go find the Emperor and tell him directly what has happened.”