When these fifty men first accepted Cui Yuezhi’s mission, they never expected to return alive. Now, hearing He Yan’s words, they stood frozen in place.

After a while, someone asked, “Would this… work?”

“I will draw the Wuto people’s attention from the front,” He Yan said. “However, your ships need to be arranged according to my plan.” Though she had never arranged formations on the water before, there was no time to worry about that now. He Yan looked toward the distant sky, where a sliver of light appeared on the horizon. Dawn was approaching—would there be wind today?

Would the heavens stand on their side?

Regardless, the battle was their destiny.

“Raise your swords and follow me,” she commanded.

…

Dawn finally broke, the last traces of darkness dispersing as a red sun rose from the front of the canal, accompanied by mist. Golden light spilled across the entire river surface, with Jiyang City wrapped in brilliant morning clouds.

The soldiers on the city walls sounded their horns. Along the embankment, the Jiyang army stood ready, their ships docked like dense black iron.

In the distance, a dark shape gradually appeared, growing larger and larger. First, a flat line, grew wider and longer until it covered a large portion of the canal. Only then did everyone see clearly—they were Wuto ships.

The Wuto vessels were extremely tall and large, with Wuto soldiers standing at the prows. They wore leather armor and small round caps made of black lambskin with two red ribbons trailing behind. All were tall and sturdy, and even before drawing near, they let out booming laughs to intimidate the Jiyang army.

“Commander,” a deputy soldier’s voice trembled from behind, “their forces…”

“At least one hundred and fifty thousand,” Xiao Jue said.

Twenty thousand against one hundred and fifty thousand—this wasn’t just fighting against odds; the disparity was terrifyingly vast, enough to make one despair.

“Follow me onto the ships,” Xiao Jue took the lead in boarding a small vessel by the shore.

Compared to the Wuto ships, the Jiyang City vessels were excessively small. The Wuto soldiers had come from north of the canal, traveling a great distance. Their ships were built large and solid, using some unknown but surely precious wood. In these years while Great Wei had been busy suppressing the Western Qiang and Southern Man rebellions, the Wuto had seized their opportunity. Without notice, Wuto’s wealth had become considerable—their national treasury might not be inferior to Great Wei’s.

The Jiyang City army followed Xiao Jue onto the ships, sailing toward the Wuto forces.

The leader commanding the Wuto forces at Jiyang was the great general Maka. Maka wasn’t particularly tall—in fact, he appeared rather small compared to his surrounding guards. Though not yet forty, he was already renowned throughout Wuto for his expertise in surprise attacks. As the Wuto ruler’s cousin, he had been entrusted with one hundred and fifty thousand troops for this first battle against Great Wei.

Maka was determined to take Jiyang.

Spies hidden in Jiyang City had thoroughly investigated its current situation. As the territory of a border prince, it had few troops, and years of peace had made it soft. Taking such a city should be as easy as turning one’s palm. The only slight difficulty was the Jiyang Prince’s daughter Mu Hongjin—this woman was quite cunning, but still just a woman. However, some new people have appeared in Jiyang City these days. There were rumors of a white-robed swordsman hunting down Wuto spies. Perhaps word had leaked, as civilians had begun evacuating the city. To avoid further complications, they decided to strike early.

“Is Cui Yuezhi leading the troops?” Maka asked. “I heard he was a fierce general in his youth, but he’s old now—can he still lift a sword?”

His confidants laughed, saying, “He’s no match for your blade, General!”

Maka stroked the scabbard at his waist. “Dying by my sword would be an honor for him!”

Their laughter drifted across the water, reaching the Jiyang forces.

Xiao Jue stood at the prow, watching more and more Wuto warships appear in the distance. After a moment, he curved his lips: “Fools.”

“What?” his deputy asked, confused.

“All their ships are connected bow to stern—seems they’re not dying fast enough.” Xiao Jue walked inside, grabbed the cloak from Chi Wu’s hands, and fastened it, sneering, “Try to stay on the water a while longer. If someone’s rushing to their death, why stop them?”

…

Meanwhile, He Yan boarded a small ship loaded with oil.

The oil and kindling were carefully concealed under thick canvas, making the vessel appear identical to ordinary Jiyang military ships, complete with military banners. The fifty men were divided into ten groups of five.

He Yan and Mu Yi were on the same ship. She told the others, “Follow me at a distance, don’t come too close.” She pulled out a paper from her garments, picked up a piece of charcoal from the ground, and drew a diagram. “Look at this.”

The diagram showed several ships, with the middle one circled by He Yan. “I’ll use this ship to attract the Wuto’s attention. The rest of you, position your ships according to this layout. Wait for my signal—when I give it, burn your ships and jump into the water.”

“Can you handle this, Lady He?” someone asked worriedly. “Let one of us do it instead.”

Acting as bait for the Wuto was extremely dangerous—one wrong move meant certain death. Though no one wished to die, they couldn’t bear to watch a young woman take the vanguard alone into danger.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan,” He Yan tightened the whip at her waist and walked toward the ship first. “The Commander has already departed, let’s move out!”

The ships met on the canal before the city gates.

Against countless Wuto vessels, the Jiyang City forces appeared as insignificant as ants. However, the young man standing at the foremost bow wore black armor and stood straight as a sword. His features were as refined as spring willows, yet holding his long sword, his presence was as sharp as frost. The morning sunlight fell upon him, creating countless brilliant rays, majestically unapproachable.

This was an unfamiliar man. Maka started slightly, hesitantly asking those beside him, “That’s not Cui Yuezhi—who is this person?”

Cui Yuezhi was fat, not a handsome man. But if Cui Yuezhi wasn’t here, where had this person come from? Was he a recent rising star in Jiyang City? Yet the intelligence from Wuto spies had never mentioned such a figure. If he wasn’t someone outstanding, why would Mu Hongjin entrust him with their limited city forces?

“Never seen him before,” a subordinate said uncertainly. “Perhaps Cui Yuezhi is finished, and with no one left in Jiyang City, Mu Hongjin just picked someone random to fill in. He’s so young—no match for you, General!”

Maka remained silent. As a fellow commander, he had instincts about whether an opponent was mere appearance or true ability. This man seemed unusual, but though doubt gnawed at him, there was no time to dwell on it. He slowly drew his sword, pointed it forward, and shouted, “Warriors, charge with me!”

Instantly, battle cries shook the heavens.

The Wuto people knew that once they reached shore, nothing could stop them. Jiyang City was as fragile as paper, and twenty thousand men weren’t enough for them to toy with. To protect civilians, the Jiyang City forces had to focus on naval combat.

Fighting on the water made little difference—their ships were large and sturdy. Killing on ships only meant slightly more swaying.

When large ships met small ones, it was like big fish meeting small fish—cruel and intense. The large ships nearly crushed the small ones, but the smaller vessels were more agile and knew where hidden reefs lay, skillfully avoiding them. The two armies clashed on their decks.

To catch thieves, first catch their king—Maka’s target was that young man in black armor wielding a precious sword. As the ships drew close, he stood at his prow, watching his counterpart.

“Commander!” someone shouted beside him.

Maka narrowed his eyes. “Commander? Who might you be?”

“Xiao Huaijin.”

Maka found the name somewhat familiar, but being extremely arrogant, others’ names were mere passing sounds to him, forgotten as soon as heard. Moreover, no one expected Xiao Huaijin to appear here, so he merely said, “Never heard of you!”

But one of his subordinates spoke up uncertainly, “Xiao Huaijin—could he be Great Wei’s General Fengyun?”

General Fengyun?

Maka started, looking at the man before him. Even with his usual contempt for Great Wei’s military commanders, he knew exactly who the Right Army Commander, General Fengyun was. Xiao Huaijin had never lost a battle, and his fierce valor was enough to intimidate the Wuto people even without confrontation.

“Are you truly Great Wei’s General Fengyun?” he asked.

Xiao Jue regarded him calmly, responding coldly, “I am.”

Maka suddenly raised his sword before his eyes, his casual demeanor instantly vanishing.

Though uncertain if it was true, hearing it from this young man’s lips, Maka believed it ninety percent! This person’s bearing was extraordinary, and unless he truly was such a figure, why would Mu Hongjin entrust the Jiyang City forces to him, letting Xiao Huaijin command? She hadn’t even used her trusted Cui Yuezhi.

The Wuto spies’ reports had mentioned nothing of this!

Maka was furious, but amid his unease, a surge of excitement rose. Xiao Huaijin was indeed extraordinary, but he only had twenty thousand men.

Twenty thousand against one hundred and fifty thousand—how could he possibly win? What good was a brave general with these few soldiers? These pathetically small ships?

If he led the Wuto to defeat Xiao Huaijin, he would be the one who defeated Great Wei’s General Fengyun. In Wuto, he would bask in glory for the rest of his life.

Suddenly inflamed with passion, Maka roared, “Warriors, kill them all! Take their city, seize their wealth, enjoy their women! Kill!”

“Kill! Kill! Kill!”

Thunderous battle cries rose, spreading across the canal. The Wuto people were already cunning and cruel, thirsting for blood. Now stirred by Maka’s words, they charged forward with raised blades.

Short weapons clashed in desperate combat.

The battle cries reached He Yan’s ears as she looked toward the distance, where both armies had merged into one mass on the river.

Mu Yi asked, “Commander Xiao has engaged—should we approach them now?”

He Yan shook her head, looking skyward.

At this moment, the sky was clear, without a cloud in sight, and not a breath of wind. Her heart gradually sank. The Astronomical Bureau had said there might or might not be wind today, but even if there was, it wouldn’t be at this time. Yet… with such weather conditions, would there be wind?

Would the heavens truly stand with Jiyang City?

She looked again toward the distant Wuto warships, massive and heavy, particularly prominent on the canal. As she watched, she suddenly froze, then moments later, a smile appeared at the corner of her lips.

Mu Yi asked, “What is it, Lady He? What are you smiling about?”

“I’m laughing at the Wuto people’s ignorance,” she said. “Look at their ships—all connected bow to stern.”

Unlike Jiyang’s waterways, Wuto was not a water country, and their soldiers were not skilled in naval warfare. Therefore, all their large ships were linked together with iron chains. The Wuto people probably thought this would save effort and prevent any ship from falling behind, making them appear as one fleet.

Maritime merchants often used this bow-to-stern connection method when transporting cargo, but using it here was rather cumbersome. Especially today, when they planned to use fire attacks.

Mu Yi’s eyes brightened: “We only need to burn one of their ships!” But his joy quickly turned to worry: “With their large ships chained together, sending in a small boat would be like a lamb entering a tiger’s den. We might be surrounded before we can even set the fire.”

“No matter,” He Yan beckoned the others to board, saying, “Stay in the positions I showed in the diagram. I’ll take one ship to lure them over.”

“Lure them over?” Mu Yi asked, “How?”

The Wuto forces wouldn’t bother chasing a single ship. It might have worked earlier, but now with so many ships linked together, they would likely focus on fighting Xiao Jue’s Jiyang forces.

“I have my ways,” He Yan replied.

Just then, a man’s voice called out, “A’He.”

He Yan turned to see Chu Zhao and started slightly.

“You had Cuijiao go to the prince’s mansion for Her Highness’s clothes. Since it’s unsafe outside, I told Cuijiao to return to the Cui mansion first and bring them to you,” Chu Zhao said with a smile. “Fortunately, I made it in time.”

“Why is Brother Chu still in Jiyang City?” He Yan asked. “It’s not safe here—you should have left with the evacuating civilians.”

This man had no means of self-defense. If… the Wuto forces entered the city, he would likely meet a terrible fate.

“If Her Highness remains in the prince’s mansion without leaving, how could I abandon my comrades? Jiyang is Great Wei’s territory. If even A’He can protect Jiyang’s people, though I may not match A’He’s abilities, I won’t flee alone. I will stand together with my friends.”

“But you have no martial arts skills,” He Yan pondered, then said, “Never mind, wait here.”

She jumped off the ship, walked to a tent by the shore, and emerged moments later with something that looked like clothing, which she thrust into Chu Zhao’s hands.

“I bought this from Jiyang’s Xiuluo Workshop earlier. The fabric is sharkskin silk—the clothing merchant’s apprentice said it’s impervious to blades and water, and fireproof. Though I don’t know if that’s true, wear it. If worst comes to worst, it might offer some protection.” He Yan sighed inwardly. She had originally worn this garment under her armor, thinking it better than nothing—if it truly was a treasure, it would be like wearing two sets of armor.

But seeing Chu Zhao standing there so frail that a breeze could knock him over, she felt it better to give him the garment. Though she wasn’t sure if he was a friend or foe, the fact that he had Cuijiao return to the Cui mansion first and hadn’t fled himself showed his loyalty.

Chu Zhao started, about to speak, but the young woman had already turned away, boarding the ship with the others. Her silhouette appeared extremely graceful before being swallowed by the surrounding crowd.

The ship gradually left the shore, heading toward the center of the river where the battle cries were fiercest, where blade light and sword shadows danced amidst flying warfare.

The small ship was like a moth to the flame, swaying yet advancing without hesitation.

Chu Zhao looked down at what he held—the garment seemed freshly removed from a woman’s body, still warm. How unconventional… but… he slowly lifted it up, revealing long skirts—it was a woman’s dress.

He was stunned momentarily, then shook his head with a smile.

…

The city’s civilians huddled in their homes, windows, and doors tightly shut. The elderly held the young in their arms, eyes fixed on their doors as if staring at their last hope.

Time slowly passed.

The streets were empty. Usually bustling Jiyang City was now quiet as a ghost town. In the prince’s mansion, Mu Hongjin sat in the main hall, looking outside.

The windows were wide open, willow branches as gentle as ever, the sky cloudless—today there was no wind.

She lowered her gaze, fingers gradually digging into the soft cushion of her high seat.

Today there was no wind.

…

At Hulou Point, soldiers hidden in the shadows were like stones, silent and still. Archers lay in wait, ready to ambush the Wuto forces should they come ashore.

Cui Yuezhi stood behind a tree, his usually cheerful face unusually grave today. With one hundred and fifty thousand Wuto soldiers, they needn’t even fight—once they entered the city, the remaining elderly and young would have no escape. If they moved quickly enough, even the civilians still fleeing on the roads would face disaster.

He led this portion of the Jiyang City forces here to prevent them from landing and entering the city, forming the last line of defense before the city gates. However, if Xiao Jue couldn’t eliminate the Wuto main force and most reached here, their small number could never stop these wolves from entering the city.

Only as He Yan had said the previous night, if they could use fire attacks to eliminate these Wuto forces in one sweep, then they might be able to stop the remaining stragglers here. But fire attacks… would they work?

A Jiyang soldier lay in the grass, a bow strapped to his back. The tall grass concealed his face, its tips tickling him, yet he remained motionless, not even attempting to scratch.

Not only people were still—the wild grass before him, the small flowers by the road, the calm water surface, the feather-soft dandelions… all remained perfectly still.

Today there was no wind.

Cui Yuezhi’s heart gradually sank. With no wind today, the timing was poor. With just under twenty thousand soldiers under Xiao Jue’s command, without fire attacks, they likely couldn’t match the Wuto forces. Their supposed ambush here might instead make them the Wuto’s prey.

But how could there be no wind?

Xiao Jue’s martial arts master, that impressive white-robed swordsman, had told him with certainty: “Don’t worry, there will be wind today.”

The Astronomical Bureau had said there was a fifty-fifty chance of wind today, completely uncertain, but Liu Buwang had said: “Arrange the ambush, there will be wind today.”

They had all deeply believed him, knowing that Master Liu Buwang could divine with a spirit tablet. Or perhaps they had simply wanted to believe his words were true, deceiving themselves with hope. But looking now, where was the wind?

Right, where was Liu Buwang?

Only then did Cui Yuezhi realize that since waking early this morning and leaving the Cui mansion for the training ground’s tent, he hadn’t seen Liu Buwang.

…

The water surface rippled slightly, not from the wind but from fish swimming beneath.

By the embankment, amid spring grass, peach blossoms, and green willows, near strange rocks and deep woods, a man sat on the ground with an ancient zither before him. He wore white robes, immaculately clean and dustless, his bearing particularly ethereal, a sword at his waist like a graceful jianghu swordsman.

Liu Buwang looked toward the distant sky.

Sunlight filtered through the forest, casting golden shadows. It wasn’t hot, but pleasantly warm. This was a vibrant spring day, every new leaf carrying spring’s essence, falling in this gentle water town.

The distant battle cries contrasted sharply with the tranquility here, the two worlds were distinctly separate.

The wind hadn’t come yet, but Liu Buwang knew that whether early or late, the wind would definitely come.

Years ago, when divining about what had seemed a hopeless situation, he had found a glimmer of hope. Initially, he hadn’t known who those two shadows were, but now it seemed highly likely they were his disciple He Yan and the young, valiant Right Army Commander Xiao Huaijin.

These two commanders had fought on battlefields for years, unknowingly saving many lives—this was a virtue. Heaven would not be too harsh on those who possessed such virtue; wherever they went, blessings would follow. Perhaps because of their righteousness and light, even Jiyang City’s desperate situation had gained a glimmer of hope.

These two could turn a losing game into a victory.

Though he couldn’t see the outcome, seeing that glimmer of hope meant the path wasn’t completely blocked. Therefore, the wind would come—though perhaps not too early, but it would come.

His task was to grasp that hope tightly, helping these two completely turn the situation around.

The distant battle cries seemed to draw closer, and this wasn’t an illusion. Liu Buwang looked ahead—several large ships… were sailing this way.

The Wuto people weren’t fools; they wouldn’t let Xiao Jue hold them back forever. While their main force engaged with Xiao Jue’s Jiyang City troops, another force would secretly try to land. Once ashore and in control of Jiyang City, victory in the naval battle would be only a matter of time.

Cui Yuezhi’s forces were at Hulou Point, still some distance away. They thought they were the first line of defense, but they weren’t—Liu Buwang was.

Among Cloud Machine Daoist’s seven disciples, he had been the most skilled in the art of the Nine Palaces Eight Trigrams. He had rarely used this technique in recent years because it greatly depleted one’s spirit and damaged one’s health. He was no longer the youth he once was; though his white robes floated gracefully, his temples had begun to gray.

Nevertheless, he would keep guard here, protecting her city.

Liu Buwang plucked the zither strings.