In the twelfth year of the Lingwei reign of the Tiancheng dynasty, at the end of summer, the Emperor personally led the army to campaign against Bijiang. Moving eastward to the Sanmu Pass, he drew the Bai forces back from the west, and then stationed troops on the eastern bank of the ancient Tianmu road in Yanxi, directing operations from within the tent. On the twenty-sixth day of the tenth month, during heavy snowfall, a fog arose from west to east, and there came a solar eclipse at midday — a great ill omen for a reigning sovereign. That night, the Bai Shi secretly dispatched Yanzi and Kuilang to launch a night raid on the royal tent with the intent to kill, but they were ultimately defeated at Se Hill. This event is recorded in history as the Night Yanzi Devoured the Sun.

This is the historical record’s account of the Battle of Se Hill.

After Se Hill, the tide of war between Tiancheng and Bijiang shifted in an utterly lopsided fashion. The Bai Shi could no longer mount any resistance and crumbled into scattered remnants drifting through Jizhou — but that is a story for another time.

At the time, however, Xiao Nanhui had no way of knowing what decisive role the battle that was about to unfold would play in Tiancheng’s campaign to reclaim Bijiang.

At this moment she was standing among a dozen or more commanders, holding her breath and listening to the latest battle reports coming in from the front, her face a mixture of joy and worry.

A report of victory had arrived from west of Tongcheng in Jizhou: Xiao Zhun’s three hundred thousand Subei Army had swept through every Bai Shi garrison in all of Yanxi and had the full force stationed outside Sanmu Pass, awaiting the best moment to launch a final assault.

The moment the report finished, the mood inside the tent erupted with heat. Though a spy had been uncovered in the camp only shortly before, the news of the Subei Army’s successive victories was still cause for relief. If the timing could be managed well, Tiancheng might be able to bring this campaign to a swift conclusion, sparing everyone the prolonged attrition of a years-long standoff.

All of this Xiao Nanhui understood perfectly well — she was simply more worried about Xiao Zhun.

More than ten years ago, Xiao Zhun had still been a fierce and hot-blooded young man. He had led the former troops of Prince Shuo in pursuit of the Bai Shi, only to suffer defeat at Sanmu Pass. If the Flying Chariot General had not led the Guangyao Camp’s heavy cavalry to the rescue at the time, those hundred thousand crack troops would likely have been wiped out entirely — and there would have been no Subei Army afterward.

That was the only defeat of Xiao Zhun’s life. Others might not know this, but Xiao Nanhui did: for the young man who had just lost everyone in his family at the time, that kind of impact — like an echo from a deep abyss — was not something that could ever truly dissipate.

Inside the tent, the voices offering plans and counsel went on without pause. The Emperor listened quietly, his face showing neither pleasure nor worry, only his left hand resting lightly on the small table, his fingertips tapping it one beat at a time.

“Lord Xiao.” The Emperor’s gaze suddenly turned toward her. “We have long heard of Bijiang’s wealth and abundance — it is said that a small patch of land there can yield a thousand piculs of millet and a hundred head of cattle and sheep. Is that truly so?”

Xiao Nanhui answered cautiously: “The rumors are somewhat exaggerated, but Bijiang is indeed a land of great yield.” She paused, then added: “In the months your subject spent there, she also noticed that in many areas in the north the soil is reddish-brown, with paulownia flowers growing thickly in places — all signs of copper and iron deposits.”

Her words had no sooner left her mouth than the Armory Commissioner Lv Ziyue was the first to react.

“Tiancheng has always exercised strict control over copper and iron mining. But if what the General says is accurate, then the Bai Shi have truly found themselves a fine place to recover their strength. After so many years, they have likely already been smelting iron and sharpening their weapons — they will not be easy to deal with.”

Yan Guang, however, looked displeased: “As this general sees it, there’s no need to throw ourselves into disarray over a little trace of iron. They are nothing but crude and uncivilized people — can they really hold back Tiancheng’s iron cavalry?”

Lv Ziyue wiped the sweat from his brow: “General, that is where you are mistaken. If they were only Southern Qiang tribespeople, they would not pose much of a threat — but among the Bai Shi, there are genuinely capable individuals —”

“Absurd! Treacherous rebels — how could they possibly deserve to be called ‘capable individuals’? Lord Lv must be going senile!”

“Enough.”

The Emperor finally spoke, ending this pointless quarrel. He turned his gaze back to Xiao Nanhui: “A prosperous land, yet its people are fierce. How do you explain that?”

Inside, Xiao Nanhui was in quiet anguish. This old Emperor truly refused to let her be, calling on her over and over to open her mouth and stir up arguments within the tent. She had not been back with the company for even a full hour, and already she was about to have alienated every future colleague she had.

Painful as it was, she still had to square her shoulders and answer: “Bijiang has ample water and grass, and is the sacred promised land of the Southern Qiang people in their hearts. But throughout the ages it has been a constant battleground, so the Southern Qiang have a deep hostility toward outsiders. Moreover, their language, written script, and way of life differ greatly from those of Tiancheng and are difficult to assimilate — and so the people have often seemed to outsiders to be unyielding and unruly.”

The Emperor nodded: “To subdue a city, one uses armed force. To subdue a people, one uses sound policy. Such is our intent — can our generals grasp it?”

The tent fell momentarily silent. More than a few of the military commanders appeared dissatisfied.

This was not hard to understand. Soldiers go to war either to expand the realm or to defend the homeland, and their hearts are only for their own people — who among them has ever given a thought to how foreign peoples feel?

And yet, hearing these words, Xiao Nanhui found herself looking at the Emperor in a somewhat different light. She had always assumed that a person like him would not care much about other people’s lives. Or rather — that he would not care about the reputation of being a so-called wise and benevolent ruler.

But even if he said such things, did his heart truly harbor even the smallest trace of compassion?

A man who did not particularly care about his own life — she could only surmise that he had been born indifferent. And yet an indifferent person who could make such a kind and generous decision would inspire not only astonishment but also a certain dread.

He was simply playing the role of the kind and generous ruler.

Throughout the ages, killing has been easy and stopping the killing has been hard. Everyone in the tent was trying to gauge how sincere the Emperor’s words about restraining the slaughter truly were.

Chief Clerk Huang Yu deliberated and opened his mouth: “Your subject agrees with what Your Majesty has said. But may one ask how this battle is to be fought in a way that avoids great bloodshed?”

The Emperor tilted his head slightly, as though something had just occurred to him and he was sharing it offhandedly with the assembled company: “Send a detachment of no more than thirty men into Bijiang to infiltrate the upper reaches of the Tianmu River and destroy the dam built by the Sun family. In the shortest case, how many days would it take?”

The moment those words fell, everyone present understood to varying degrees what the Emperor intended to do.

All his talk of using sound policy to win over the people — it was nothing more than using strategy to turn popular sentiment.

The Sun family’s dam and seizure of land had done harm to Suyan for years, and much of that was backed by the Bai Shi.

The lower reaches of the Tianmu River were home not only to the people of Suyan, but also to many Bijiang nomads and native Southern Qiang — the impact of the river running dry was not something that could be expressed in a few words. But the Bai Shi held the army, so no matter how much resentment people felt, they could only grit their teeth and swallow it.

Destroying the dam — though a wartime measure — could not be said to be anything other than an incidental act of aid for those people suffering from windblown desert and drought.

Su Yuanxiu grasped the troop deployment that would follow in almost an instant, and said in a firm voice: “It is already the dry season. If the dam is destroyed on top of that, the upper reaches of the Tianmu River will be sure to see water levels drop and the riverbed exposed. The Guangyao Camp’s heavy cavalry can ford the river, and in less than half a month, they can flatten every last line of defense the Bai Shi has in the north.”

Chief Clerk Huang Yu seemed to come alive as well, his eyes lighting up: “And the advantages may not end there. The force of the floodwaters released from upstream is sure to rush into the dry ancient riverbeds below. The sandy rock there is already loose — what are now deep gorges and ravines will likely, by that time, have become shallow valley flats. And before long it will snow —”

Yan Guang cut in almost eagerly: “Before long it will snow! This year, since the beginning of winter, there has not yet been a snowfall in Jizhou. If a cold snap follows after the job is done, the shallow stretches in the lower reaches — no more than four or five feet deep — will freeze over within a matter of days. By then, never mind the heavy cavalry — even the infantry of my Wild Goose Wing Camp could cross that natural barrier without lifting a finger!”

What a move — sweeping from upstream to downstream, with the force of thunder behind it.

This kind of planning could not have been set in motion in a short time. The withdrawal from beside the ancient riverbed days ago must also have been to clear space for the floodwaters to spread downstream.

Those who had thought the Emperor had lost his mind now realized that he had simply not bothered to explain himself. The commanders, reinvigorated, felt by turns a little resentful and enormously impressed. They rubbed their hands with enthusiasm.

Lu Songping stepped forward: “Your subject is willing to shoulder this burden for Your Majesty — ten thousand deaths would not be too many.”

General Dian-Wu Sun Zhuo had been displeased with Lu Songping for some time, and now didn’t even bother to hide it.

“Lord Lu is perhaps overstepping a little here? Lord, you are after all a regional governor — sitting quietly in the tent drinking tea doesn’t suit you, and now you want to run off to the front lines? Aren’t you afraid that a stray blade might find you, and then the seat of governor of Jizhou would be vacant again? This sort of thing is better left to us rough fellows.”

Sun Zhuo’s words carried undisguised contempt. A few others laughed along when he finished, and Xiao Nanhui quietly shook her head.

Lord Sun, Lord Sun — it’s clear you have never crossed blades with that young man Lu Songping. His swordsmanship and the force behind his archery would be more than sufficient for a camp captain’s post —

While she was thinking this, Lu Songping had already sunk to one knee in salute. Left hand at the waist, right hand at the brow — this was the etiquette of a warrior and a swordsman.

“Your subject, Black-Feather Camp Captain Lu Songping, has been serving as acting governor of Jizhou. Now that Jizhou has been pacified, your subject requests to return to his post.”

Xiao Nanhui stared.

He truly was a camp captain?

Though she had always had a vague sense that something was off, only now, thinking back, did she understand where that feeling had come from.

Lu Songping’s methods for managing Prince Kang’s palace bore no resemblance to those of a regional governor — they were far more like those of a military camp captain. She had been certain when she infiltrated that she had not made a sound; the Suxin Pavilion was also tucked away in a remote location. And yet Lu Songping had found her quickly regardless. Beyond exceptional martial skill, this required the kind of meticulous attention to detail that sees all things clearly. These qualities would not naturally appear in someone accustomed to issuing orders from above — but for a camp captain who constantly had to handle everything personally and directly, they were an absolutely perfect fit.

And the Black-Feather Camp captain, at that — ten thousand percent the perfect fit.

The Emperor nodded lightly, and Lu Songping rose and stood to one side, without a trace of any unnecessary expression from start to finish.

“You have worked hard during this time. This mission must be coordinated from within by the Subei light cavalry — it is something of an urgent matter, but affairs in the Black-Feather Camp have also been piling up and are in urgent need of organization. Weigh your options and then make your decision.”

Lu Songping did not rush to answer. But at the sound of the word “Subei,” Xiao Nanhui’s ears perked right up.

Did this mean that if she took on this urgent mission, she would be able to fight side by side with Xiao Zhun?

Sun Zhuo, having collected himself on the other side, suddenly felt his dignity had taken a blow, and — to his credit, he was a man who could bend when needed — cleared his throat and straightforwardly stepped forward to volunteer: “This general was foolish and did not see His Majesty’s arrangement. But this general is willing to lead crack troops under his command in a day-and-night march straight into the enemy’s camp to secure the overall situation — ten days to accomplish the task.”

Ten days.

That pledge was made with a certain boldness.

It was just unfortunate that ten days was not particularly fast.

Xiao Nanhui was thinking this idly when, out of nowhere, the Emperor called on her again.

“Lord Xiao says nothing — perhaps you have a better plan?”

Did she have something written on her face? This man always managed to catch her off guard.

Though she knew that saying what she was about to say would decisively offend Sun Zhuo, Xiao Nanhui spoke anyway.

“Your subject believes five days is sufficient.”

The words landed, and the tent erupted.

Sun Zhuo, having had his face slapped repeatedly, was already seething with anger. “Bijiang’s terrain is complex. Never mind the fact that the Bai Shi won’t let you charge through in a straight line — even the best-trained soldiers can only advance ten li a day through that land at full pace. Has Lord Xiao been so carried away by her recent successes that she is talking wildly?”

Xiao Nanhui did her best to maintain an expression of polite deference, careful not to let the slightest arrogance show: “What your subject refers to is no ordinary method. As the General rightly says, Bijiang’s terrain is complex and cannot be described as a single type of land — avoiding the dangerous means taking a longer route, going directly means taking a treacherous one. Your subject has observed the routes local people use when moving and traveling, and has come to know a number of hidden paths. These paths were carefully opened by someone, and they require certain techniques to navigate — many of the passages are very narrow and difficult for many people to pass through at once. For ordinary troop movements, they would certainly be unsuitable, but if, as Your Majesty just said, only a few dozen people are needed, they would be the very best option.”

After hearing this, Sun Zhuo knew he had no way to prove Xiao Nanhui’s claim was unfounded, and for a time had nothing to say in rebuttal.

The Emperor’s jet-black eyes were fixed steadily on her. The curve of his lips showed satisfaction.

“Excellent.”

Though she had not been surprised by this praise, Xiao Nanhui felt a quiet flush of pride.

The months she had spent in Bijiang were not wasted. These Tiancheng soldiers who had come from far away, though brave, were nowhere near as nimble as she, who was half a local by now.

Ah — though destroying the dam was hardly an enviable mission, being able to coordinate with Xiao Zhun was a fine thing. Her heart yearned for it, and she felt not the slightest gloom.

Before this small glow of satisfaction had even had time to warm her heart, the Emperor had already turned and signaled to Ding Weixiang beside him: “Lord Ding Zhongwei mentioned to us just now that three days was sufficient. Let Lord Ding Zhongwei select the personnel and carry out this mission.”

What? Three days?!

How could it possibly be three days? Even flying wouldn’t get them there!

“Lord Ding Zhongwei, do you have a clear understanding of the terrain in Bijiang? Moreover, we are still on the eastern bank of the Tianmu River — the time it takes just to cross the river or span the dry gorges would surely be more than three days alone —”

“Suyan is high in the east and low in the west, and the terrain of Bijiang is the lowest-lying part of all of Jizhou — that is precisely why it gathers water and rivers, and why the vegetation grows so densely. May I ask Lord Xiao: if one could make use of this geography, would it be possible to shorten the travel time?”

She frowned: “What do you mean, ‘make use of the geography’? Explain yourself.”

Ding Weixiang said nothing, but reached to his waist and placed something on the table.

Xiao Nanhui looked closely — she recognized it.

It was a flying-shuttle chain. She had used one herself that time at the Feathered Sky Tower in Huozhou.

A flying-shuttle chain strung between anchor points, infiltrating overnight — these were assassin’s tricks. Were they not fighting a war?

She looked up, and Ding Weixiang was watching her with an obviously self-satisfied expression, as if making it very clear that he held the highest position of usefulness beside the Emperor.

Fine, fine — you’re the most useful, you’re the most capable, are you happy now?

She grumbled inwardly, but furrowed her brow for a long while and truly could think of no reasonable grounds to refute him. Finally she could only say: “Didn’t you say back then that there was only one —”

Before she could finish, Ding Weixiang shot her a fierce glare.

She belatedly remembered: they had not been alone in Huozhou.

But Yan Guang had already caught the hint of something peculiar in her words and said quickly: “Oh? Lord Xiao has seen the flying-shuttle chain in action? Lord Ding Zhongwei is rather protective of that treasure of his — none of us in the same camp have ever seen him bring it out.”

Xiao Nanhui was instantly at a loss for words and stammered: “Well — well, I wouldn’t say I’ve seen it — it’s only that I heard him mention it —”

The next instant, the Emperor’s cunning gaze landed squarely on her, and he interjected at the most inopportune moment: “You need not be modest, dear subject. We saw you use it quite well that day.”

At the Emperor’s words, every general in the tent instantly turned their gossip-hungry eyes toward Xiao Nanhui, and all those burning gazes together seemed about to scorch a hole right through her face.

This was the first time she had ever witnessed that military commanders, when it came to gossip, were every bit a match for civil officials.

Fortunately, Su Yuanxiu spoke up at just the right moment, sparing her from her predicament: “We hear that the flying-shuttle chain requires some skill to use — without training, it would be difficult to master quickly. Might one ask whether Lord Ding Zhongwei plans to go in person, and whether he has already considered who to bring on the mission?”

So this thing required training?

Xiao Nanhui instinctively felt a twinge of pain in her backside. That wretched Ding Weixiang had not bothered to give her even the most basic instructions — the fact that she had not fallen to her death sliding down from the Feathered Sky Tower that day was sheer luck.

And the culprit in question was now looking at her with a face full of undisguised smugness, brazenly saying: “In this one’s estimation, it does not require much time at all. After all, at the time, Lord Xiao only needed a brief moment before she was handling it quite proficiently.”

She had been about to fire back a retort, when the Emperor suddenly spoke.

“In that case, full authority for this covert mission is hereby entrusted to Lord Ding Zhongwei to lead personally. The Right General will assist by drafting a detailed map of the terrain. As for the rest — stand by for orders.”

Ding Weixiang seemed not to have expected the Emperor to send him personally, and whatever came to mind made him say urgently: “Your Majesty, please reconsider — it may not be appropriate for your subject to go in person —”

Exactly — why not send her?

“Your Majesty, your subject also believes Lord Ding Zhongwei may not be the most suitable choice — your subject is willing to shoulder this burden —”

“Our mind is made up. There is nothing further to reconsider.” The Emperor’s voice held a trace of coolness. The gaze he turned on Xiao Nanhui seemed to pass right through her. “Right General — are you willing to serve us, or are you willing to serve the Qinghuai Marquis?”

At those words, cold sweat began to bead on Xiao Nanhui’s brow.

She had forgotten — this man had a mind like a crystal lattice. Her true feelings could never stay hidden from him.

She immediately knelt to beg forgiveness: “Your subject would never dare — your subject only —”

She was flustered and could not think of what to say in her own defense.

At just that moment the tent fell into utter silence, and she only felt as though needles were pricking her all along her back — excruciatingly uncomfortable.

Su Yuanxiu watched quietly, and in the end still opened his mouth to come to her rescue: “The Right General has likely been troubled by the weight of old events. Were it not for the Bai Shi’s betrayal, the case against Prince Shuo would never have unfolded. The Right General was born of the Marquis’s household, and her feelings ran a little strong — that is understandable.” He paused, then continued: “The treasonous Bai Shi deserve a hundred deaths for their crimes. Yet the Rain-Peace Rebellion still holds many points of doubt. This subject earnestly requests that Your Majesty spare their lives — perhaps the truth of those past events may yet come to light.”

Of all the dozen and more people present, only Su Yuanxiu would have dared to say such a thing.

The Rain-Peace Rebellion was a sealed case, forbidden. Even Xiao Zhun had spent years in pursuit of an answer without ever obtaining one. Who had killed the entire Xiao household? Was it truly the work of the Bai Shi? And why? Was it truly as the case records stated — that word of the rebellion had leaked and they had slaughtered everyone to cover their tracks? A rebellion of such secrecy — how could the entire household have known of it, and why the need to wipe out every last one of them?

It was as Yaoyi had warned Xiao Nanhui when she was seeking the imperial seal eastward: if the answer were not simply difficult to find, then someone did not wish for the truth to see the light of day.

For the truth to remain shrouded in ambiguity to this very day — with methods like that behind it, how could anyone without a lofty position and great power have managed it?

To raise this matter was to tread on both a taboo and a danger. Xiao Nanhui had willingly drawn herself into the thick of it for Xiao Zhun’s sake — but that did not mean others felt the same.

And so Su Yuanxiu’s words were, in truth, something quite rare.

She exhaled quietly and cast him a grateful look.

The Emperor appeared to have taken those words to heart, yet his gaze had not moved from Xiao Nanhui throughout.

After a long silence, he seemed to have lost interest in what had been discussed, and languidly closed his eyes.

“Very well — let it be as you have said. Convey our imperial command: all generals are to heed orders from this day forward. In any engagement with the Bai Shi, the rebel leader Bai Heliu must be taken alive. He must not be killed.”