As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the barren landscape, the Huang Tian Kuang Bing Corps loomed in the hearts of the Gu He people as a terrifying and mysterious force. These warriors reveled fearlessly in the depths of night, utterly unaffected by the ghostly whispers that haunted this desolate land. Perhaps they were already lost souls and vengeful spirits, immune to the otherworldly winds that howled across the plains.
Zhan Bie’s eyes remained fixed on the group, watching as two alluring dancers – one in red, one in blue – writhed and swayed in the flickering torchlight. The blue-clad dancer moved like a water snake seeking prey, her movements fluid and hypnotic. Meanwhile, her crimson-garbed counterpart wrapped her pale, slender legs around a massive flagpole, her body undulating sensuously. The two women seemed to embody the very essence of vitality in this barren wasteland, their performance entrancing the band of outlaws gathered before them.
Zhan Bie felt his throat constrict as he realized he too was falling under their spell. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead to his lips. Shaking his head vigorously, he forced himself to regain his composure. This appeared to be a detachment of Ruo Wen’s army, likely engaged in some victory celebration. The crowd was utterly mesmerized by the bewitching display – if he left now, he could likely slip away unnoticed.
With this thought, Zhan Bie slowly rose to his feet. Taking a deep breath, he darted away like a bird skimming across the water, his lithe form flitting between the sandy dunes.
“The leader has arrived!” a voice suddenly rang out.
While Zhan Bie’s departure had indeed gone unnoticed, the arrival of Ruo Wen himself about half an hour later caused the scattered torchlight to erupt into a sea of flames. The world was bathed in a crimson glow as Ruo Wen’s imposing figure approached on horseback, his face as imperious as a god’s yet twisted with bloodthirsty cruelty.
The crowd’s eyes filled with reverence as they prostrated themselves at his feet, almost yearning to be trampled beneath his steed.
On the earthen stage, the two dancers – their foreheads adorned with jewels that seemed embedded in their flesh, one blue and one red to match their attire – beamed with delight at the sight of their leader. They flung themselves at his chest, one after the other. Ruo Wen’s wild laughter rang out as he kissed them passionately, eliciting raucous cheers from the men below.
Indeed, as night deepened, so too did Ruo Wen’s need for women. His brothers-in-arms knew well that their leader’s desires were like a ghostly river in the dark, flowing with god-like greed for women, wealth, fine food, and the occasional bout of slaughter. Ruo Wen’s appetites always ran deeper and hotter than most men’s – he wanted more, and he took it more fiercely.
“Leader! Ruo Lan has been waiting so long for you!” the blue-clad dancer boldly wrapped her leg around Ruo Wen’s waist, her gaze brimming with invitation and allure. Ruo Wen merely smiled, his expression not without a hint of frivolity. He tipped her chin with one hand while the other grasped a cup of potent liquor brought by a slave. He drained it in one mighty gulp, fearless and unrestrained.
The red-clad dancer, Fei Wen, also clambered up to him, planting kisses along his neck as her jade-like hands roamed across his chest. “Leader! Fei Wen has missed you so… truly missed you… No man here can compare to you!”
With that, the trio began to brazenly seek their pleasure before the eyes of all, their behavior wild and wanton to the extreme.
This was Ruo Wen.
Yet, where had Ruo Lan and Fei Wen come from? They had never been seen during the Huang Tian Kuang Bing Corps’ reign over the northern desert.
In truth, they had once been priestesses of nomadic tribes in the desert region, pure and innocent. However, when their people were brutally massacred by the Huang Tian Kuang Bing Corps, their bodies strewn across the wasteland, Ruo Wen descended from the sky like a demonic saint. His eyes burned with the fires of the yellow springs of the underworld, instantly subduing the women and their pitiful hearts. As he gazed upon these two women who had lost all sense of self, his face remained expressionless. Apart from that crimson silhouette in his memories, no woman had ever been able to maintain her composure before him.
“What are your names?” he asked, his hoarse voice as cold as ice.
“Jiao Ting!”
“Hua Yu!”
Their responses trembled with indescribable fear.
The two young women peered at the tiger-like man before them through their long, thick lashes.
In a flash, Ruo Wen’s large hands grasped half of their heads, his thumbs pressing hard against their smooth foreheads.
A soul-rending pain erupted!
“Ah!” The young women collapsed to the ground, clutching their heads as bright red blood seeped between their fingers, trickling down either side of their noses. They dared not even furrow their brows, for the source of their agony lay deep within their foreheads.
Opening their hands, the two women glanced at each other in shock, realizing that Ruo Wen had forcibly embedded a red and a blue jewel into their skull bones. The gems glistened with an eerie light, mingling with the scent of blood.
“From this day forward, you shall be called Ruo Lan, and you, Fei Wen. You will sleep only with me!”
As Ruo Wen spoke, his hand habitually caressed the weapons at his waist, lingering especially on the repaired golden section of his spear. His fingers traced the spot tenderly for a moment before his figure vanished into the darkness.
Cheng Xiang, as the head of the Livelihood Department, had arranged for Ruo Lan and Fei Wen. No one dared question their presence.
From that day on, the intertwining figures of the red and blue dancers became the ethereal spirits of their victory celebrations, chasing after Ruo Wen’s domineering shadow time and time again, helplessly entangled in his bewitching web.
In the royal palace of Ma Sui…
“Still no news from Gu He?” The anxious voice was tinged with nervousness. The speaker was the King of Ma Sui, Ge Er Jin Qin. He appeared to be in his fifties, his beard streaked with gray, his face unable to hide its haggard state. His narrow eyes squinted frequently, likely pondering the current intentions of the neighboring country. He clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking. Gu He’s current inaction was undoubtedly a grave blow to Ma Sui.
“Foolish! Foolish! Has Gu Cha lost his mind? With Ma Sui’s downfall and bandits seizing power, Gu He will surely be the next delectable meal! If we don’t join forces quickly to eliminate this yellow peril, how can we ever know peace?” He vented his frustrations, sitting restlessly on his throne.
“Your Majesty! At present, we can only hold the border for three days at most! The fastest reinforcements from Tian Du will take seven days to arrive. Whether Yun Pei will intervene remains unknown. There has been no news since Princess Yu Qiang entered the palace. If Gu He doesn’t send troops to support us, we, your subjects, can only escort you to safety and plan for the restoration of the country another day!” Several elderly ministers knelt on the ground, assessing the dire situation.
These words were met with silence. No one could envision any other outcome, just as no one could have imagined that they would be besieged by a mere four thousand bandits. Their city walls had fallen one after another within ten days, leaving only this central political district, the capital “He Yan,” remaining.
Ma Sui had adopted a concentric layout, with the highest echelons of power at the center and the poorest citizens on the outermost ring. The land of Ma Sui was divided into four arcing tiers, each progressively more elite. Yet now, this symbol of supreme authority, He Yan, found itself at the center of a vortex, surrounded by enemies of its own making.