“Fifteen.” At fifteen years old, without a single weapon, his body covered in wounds, Ruowen emerged victorious through hand-to-hand combat.
Hou nodded, “Next time we raid, you’re coming too!”
Ruowen began joining the bandits on their excursions. Among the younger generation, he stood out the most, partly due to his strength, and partly because of his eyes that closely resembled the leader’s. When the purple light in his eyes flashed and then sank into deep red, it meant corpses would soon litter the ground.
Whenever Ruowen rode back to camp at dusk, Qingchun would wait by the roadside. Only after his black horse entered the stable would she retreat to the side, softly calling out to her elder brother. Ruowen never acknowledged her, but as he brushed past her, he would always drop something – sometimes food, sometimes hairpins, and in winter, even cotton clothes. But he never spoke to her.
Ruowen’s first weapon was a sword, one specifically used by the witches of the Iron Thorn Clan, never unsealed, incapable of killing. It was originally brought by Ruowen’s mother, who always carried it with her. In Ruowen’s memory, that sword had been the most intriguing thing to him. So during one instance of dividing the spoils after a raid, he gave up the chance to choose from newly captured beauties and insisted on having his mother’s sword.
This was a puzzling decision. Curiosity drove Hou to test the sword on the spot, but even after three swings, he couldn’t cut through the rope tied around a wooden stake. Hou threw the sword to the ground and said to Ruowen, “A bladeless sword, what use is it to you?”
Ruowen picked up the sword. In his youthful arrogance, not knowing he should restrain his abilities in front of the leader, he suddenly turned and with one stroke cut through the rope tied to the arena pillar. The sword’s fierce energy kicked up a cloud of dust from the ground. The cut ends of the rope on the ground still flickered with sparks, causing the onlookers to gasp in amazement and cheer excitedly. Ruowen raised an eyebrow, lifted the sword to the sky, and laughed, “I can unseal it. From now on, it will accompany me on my conquests!”
That day, that sword stroke, became a turning point in Ruowen’s life. He was ruthless and resolute, strong and daring. These qualities alone were enough to make the suppressed younger generation of bandits instinctively submit to him. That night, Ruowen brought his mother to his tent, ordering her to unseal the precious sword. Ruojun, looking at this son who had separated from her body and was becoming more and more like Hou, felt full of resentment. So she wiped the blade with blood, chanting incantations all night to unseal the sword. The ritual, though performed by her alone, was like a faith gradually finding its direction, calling forth a new leader. From then on, many people began to privately pledge allegiance to Ruowen. Within three years, at eighteen, Ruowen was able to lead his brothers on independent raids.
Blood ties are instinctive; those who resist them are extraordinary. Hou was such a person. In the bandit circle, they didn’t deliberately prevent women from having children, but when children were born, they showed no love or care for their upbringing. Unless the women were willing to raise them, they would abandon the children halfway without even furrowing their brows. The aging Hou was no longer invincible, and although his influence remained unshakeable, his restrictions on Ruowen finally sparked conflict between the two generations.
Ruowen didn’t have many men under him, only about two hundred, far fewer than Hou’s two thousand. However, every time they raided, Ruowen’s gains were always the most bountiful, incomparable to others. Yet, whenever he returned triumphantly to camp with his blood-soaked cavalry, he had to gift two-thirds of the spoils to Hou, and the remaining third had to be won through arena fights. Hou used this method to suppress Ruowen. Over time, Ruowen’s subordinates naturally became dissatisfied. Soon, led by Chengxiang, they unanimously urged Ruowen to break away and establish his territory. Ruowen immediately swore an oath with them, cutting his clothes, and planned their departure.
Leaving meant an uncertain future, but Ruowen never hesitated. He knew he should have his troops and territory. However, as he gazed at the starless sky, with the howling cold wind brushing against his long sword, Ruowen unexpectedly thought of two women: his mother, Ruojun, and his sister, Qingchun…
“Elder Brother!”
In the cold, biting wind of the night, Qingchun stood behind Ruowen, wearing a black fur coat. She knew that although he ignored her if anyone else had stood behind him at this moment, they would have died needlessly under his sword. For over a decade, she had only ever said two words to Ruowen: “Elder Brother.” These were the words her mother had taught her, but after explaining what an elder brother was, her mother had died shamefully in the red tent. Having lost her protection, Qingchun instinctively only wanted to be close to Ruowen among all the young bandit children, because, like her, he had a pair of purple eyes.
Ruowen didn’t turn around. Only one person had ever dared to call him “Elder Brother,” and only one person had he ever thought of as a sister in his heart. Seeing that he still didn’t respond, Qingchun stepped forward and gently hugged him from behind. “Elder Brother, the fur coat you gave me, even the Great Lord likes it. He asked me for it, but I didn’t give it to him.”
Hearing this, Ruowen suddenly felt something was wrong. He whirled around and yanked open the fur coat. Qingchun’s fair skin was immediately exposed to the cold wind, covered in bruises and welts.
“Who did this?” For the first time, Ruowen spoke to her.
Qingchun turned her head away and pulled the fur coat closed again. “Elder Brother, Qingchun has long been impure. Qingchun has been abused by all the men around Lord Hou. But Qingchun is clever. These sufferings haven’t been in vain. Lord Hou’s hesitation to kill you all this time is because of the pillow talk Qingchun has been whispering in the Great Lords’ ears.”
Ruowen’s grip on her hand tightened. In his eyes, that little girl who always hid to the side calling him “Elder Brother,” the girl he naively thought he could protect just by letting her live simply, had walked such a path through the years. He had wondered before, always guessing when Hou would make his move against him, yet year after year passed without any action.
So that’s why? So that’s why!
Qingchun looked at Ruowen with a faint smile, tucking her head slightly into the fur coat as if to warm herself. Her eyes sparkled beautifully, just as they always had when Ruowen saw them. “Elder Brother, you’re leaving, aren’t you? I…”
“I’m taking you with me!” Without waiting for her to finish, not caring what she was about to say, Ruowen tightened her fur coat and said clearly, “I’m going to establish my camp, and you’re coming with me. When I go out on raids, you’ll manage the camp. When I return victorious, you’ll stand by the fence to welcome me. You’re my sister; you don’t need to serve any man you don’t like. If anyone touches you again, I’ll kill them.”
Qingchun listened and began to cry. All these years, how could she have dared to hope that one day her brother would say such things?
Seeing her tears, Ruowen didn’t blink. A feeling of tenderness he had never experienced before welled up in his heart. He simply pulled her into his embrace, using his worn-out cloak to shield her from the wind and sand. Then, smiling into the night, he said, “Qingchun, heaven has its way, ghosts have their bridge, but the great path of the human world is paved with fresh blood!”
The breakout also happened on a night when Ruowen told Qingchun to go back and pack some things.
That night, the wind was strong, howling as if a group of restless wronged souls were crying out in pain at the same time. The guards in the stronghold walked back and forth, inexplicably feeling chills all over their bodies. As the night deepened, Hou, lost in thought, suddenly called for Ruojun to serve him in his room. Qingchun happened to be with Ruojun at the time and was dragged along. The two women, one old and one young sat before Hou. Hou had drunk a lot, but he seemed to become more clearheaded the more he drank. He smashed one wine jar after another on the ground, then made Qingchun dance on the shards.
“You’re amazing, my beauty,” Hou leaned on the kang bed, watching Qingchun’s feet covered in blood, laughing wildly with excitement. Qingchun was about to lose her balance; her feet had gone numb, but she kept looking at Ruojun as if asking, when will we leave?
Ruojun just smiled coldly, as if she hadn’t seen anything.
Soon after, a fire broke out in Hou’s camp, starting with the arena and the fences. This caused most people to rush to the front hall to fight the fire. Ruowen had about a hundred brothers mix in with them, and taking advantage of the chaos, they brazenly ran out through the main gate. In an instant, a hundred men vanished without a trace. Seeing the raging fire outside, Hou remained surprisingly calm. He casually put on a coat and walked outside. Soon, no less than six or seven hundred men had gathered, awaiting his orders. He frowned and asked first, “Where’s Ruowen?”
Everyone looked back, and Ruowen was standing right there. He calmly responded, “Here!”
“Oh!” Hou raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”
Ruowen’s hand tightened imperceptibly on his sword as he replied, “Fire from the heavens!”
Fire from the heavens was common during the day when the sun was high, but now, in this cold, pitch-black night, how could there be fire from the heavens?
Hou grunted, seemingly not pursuing the matter. He just looked around and said, “Count the men!”
Everyone was stunned. Hou roared, “Count the men!”