The sun was setting toward dusk when the weary sound of horse hooves could be heard on the muddy road, pulling a large covered wagon. Though drawn by two horses, the heavy wagon moved extremely slowly. On the driver’s seat sat two people, sweating profusely – one with a short beard beneath his chin, about thirty-five or thirty-six years old, and the other a youth of fourteen or fifteen. Their features were similar, clearly father and son.

The stifling afternoon heat left everyone listless. The father wiped his sweat and was about to urge the horses forward when suddenly “smack!” – he struck himself across the face. Looking down at his palm, he saw it covered in fresh blood and couldn’t help but sigh bitterly: “Another one.”

“Father…” the youth on the driver’s seat couldn’t help but complain irritably, “How much farther do we have to go?”

“How much farther?” The father raised his sleeve to wipe his sweat, pointing toward the northern mountain ridge and sighing, “The Great Wall stretches for ten thousand li.”

The Great Wall stretches for ten thousand li – looking at the road, to the right was a vast grassland, while to the left were barren mountains. Gazing into the distance, one could dimly see layer upon layer of peaks rising and falling, atop which a high wall had been built, winding along the mountains endlessly like a thousand-li dragon resting upon the mountain ridge. Needless to say, this was the empire’s greatest boundary – the “Great Wall.”

This covered wagon was loaded with household belongings, so naturally the passengers were also waiting to pass through the gates. The man gazed at the Great Wall in a daze and sighed. He handed the whip to his son and lifted the wagon cover, asking: “Where are the exit documents? Have you found them?”

Sunlight streamed into the wagon, revealing a woman holding an infant in her left arm while raising her right hand to shield against the troublesome sunlight. She looked drowsy, having clearly been napping. The woman said quietly: “I’ve searched through all the luggage but haven’t found them.”

The driving youth was called Haisheng. He leaned over and asked: “Father, if we can’t find the documents, won’t we be unable to pass through the gates?” The man sighed: “When the boat reaches the bridge, it will naturally straighten. When we reach Juyong Pass, we’ll think of a way.”

Amid a chorus of indignant complaints, the whole family finally got off the wagon. The parents and siblings stood in a row – among them were two young women of graceful appearance and similar height. The one on the left had a slightly fierce air and was about sixteen or seventeen years old – this was the eldest sister, Zheyu. The other young woman was gentle and quiet, about the same age as Haisheng – this was the second sister, Chunfeng.

Besides Zheyu, Chunfeng, Haisheng, and Bichao – four children in total – this family also had a second son, only five or six years old, with a cold expression and aloof demeanor. Apart from the two sisters, there was also a little girl named Xialian. She slept in her mother’s arms, and though still in swaddling clothes, she was already as beautiful as her sisters. Looking at all the siblings, they shared one similarity – they all had the same handsome nose, straight on the boys and delicate on the girls, indescribably attractive. As beautiful as their mother.

The father sighed with emotion: “I’ve already made arrangements with them. Once we reach Kaiping and sell our goods, we’ll have one hundred thousand taels of silver to use.”

Hearing that their family would become wealthy, Bichao immediately beamed with joy and clapped her hands: “Father! Is that thing really worth so much money? They’re not just playing with us, are they?” The father smiled: “Don’t worry. They’ve spent twenty-one years searching for information about this item – would they really be joking?”

As he spoke, the father slowly untied his robe and took out a small cloth bundle from against his skin. He opened it with great care, revealing layers upon layers of oiled paper wrapping it extremely securely. He carefully unwrapped it, revealing an old silk scroll.

This silk scroll was ancient – when unfolded, it made a [four characters missing] sound as if it might crumble at any moment. The children held their breath and gathered around to observe. At the bottom of the silk scroll were written several Chinese characters: “Yan Island,” with “Amami,” “Sakishima,” and “Okinawa” nearby. This appeared to be an ancient sea chart.

The father took a deep breath and held the silk scroll up to the light. In the sunlight, scattered islands could be seen distributed across the silk – Yan Island to the west, Ryukyu to the east, with a blank expanse of sea in the center. A red line started from “Yan Island” and continued upward. The children focused intently, following their father’s fingertip to see the red line winding away and extending into the vast ocean. Suddenly the red line ended abruptly – this sea chart was incomplete.

The father sighed: “Actually, no one in the world knows how many pieces this map was torn into. When your grandfather was alive, he traveled north to Korea and far to Japan, searching for the whereabouts of the remaining pieces of this sea chart.”

Chunfeng said quietly: “Father, we’ve seen this torn map since childhood and never noticed anything special about it. Why did grandfather always hold it in his hands like a treasure?”

The father shook his head: “Don’t ask too many questions. Your grandfather brought us to live on Yan Island because of this map. But now that he’s no longer in this world, keeping this map is useless to us. We might as well sell it and exchange it for some silver.”

Hearing these words, the children’s gazes all turned to the sea chart, staring blankly at that blank expanse of ocean.

This family had returned from overseas and knew the origin of this sea area. It was said to be hidden deep in the East China Sea, with year-round storms and hidden whirlpools – an extremely dangerous place. Therefore, Chinese fishermen often called it the “Sea of Suffering,” taking the meaning “the sea of suffering has no bounds, turn back and reach the shore.” But who would want to complete this sea chart? Could there be some treasure hidden in this Sea of Suffering?

In the silence, suddenly Bichao said: “Father, won’t carrying this map make people envious of us?” At these words, everyone became alarmed. Chunfeng said: “Yes, father, what kind of people are these buyers? Have you investigated them clearly?”

The father said calmly: “Very well, today I’ll tell you all at once. The buyers have great background and would never rob us of our possessions.”

The children wondered: “Great background? They are…”

The father said quietly: “Royalty.”

Haisheng was astonished: “Royalty? Are they… Beijing royalty?”

“No.” The father’s eyes showed reverent admiration: “They are the Golden Family.”

The children gasped in unison: “The Great Yuan Khan!”

The father laughed heartily at these words, his expression extremely joyful.

The Great Yuan Khan was a descendant of Genghis Khan, dwelling north of the Great Wall, possessing mountains of gold and seas of silver. A mere hundred thousand taels of silver was but a drop in the ocean to them – naturally there was no need for deception. No wonder father wanted to travel far to Kaiping – after all, the Golden Family was foreign royalty who couldn’t conveniently enter the pass, so the sellers had to go out to meet them.

Zheyu smiled: “Father, how did this map end up in grandfather’s hands? Do you know?”

Before the father could answer, Bichao was already shouting: “I know! This is something grandfather brought from his old home! Right?”

“Ha ha ha ha ha!” The father clapped his hands and laughed heartily, his spirits lifting: “Bichao is still the clever one. That’s right, this item was brought by your grandfather from his old home in Zhejiang.”

Bichao smiled: “I thought so! When grandfather was alive, he often told me that our family ancestors were high officials, right?”

The father showed pride: “Of course! Our old home in Zhejiang had thousands of acres of fields and rows of servants. When your grandfather was young, he served as an official in Jinling. Our uncles and grand-uncles were all among the top three in the palace examinations – the whole clan were ‘scholarly seeds.’ We were truly a first-class wealthy family…” Reminiscing about his ancestors’ glory, he suddenly sighed and said in a daze: “But it’s all gone now.”

Speaking as they walked, the family had already approached the Great Wall. Everyone gradually awakened from their memories and sank back into the hot and tedious journey. Seeing the Great Wall right before them, Haisheng’s eyes lit up with joy: “Look! A gap!”

Even this wall stretching ten thousand li had its vulnerabilities. This section had a very large gap – whether caused by an earthquake or washed away by torrential rains, the wall had collapsed, opening a passage that revealed the scene beyond the pass.

At first glance, beyond the pass was an enormous grassland, endless and vast like the sea. Looking up at the sky, that setting sun was large as a goose egg, red as flame, gradually approaching the earth with majestic grandeur that took one’s breath away.

“In the great desert, lone smoke rises straight; by the long river, the setting sun is round.” The family gazed northward in a daze, unconsciously falling silent. Bichao said cheerfully: “Father, now we don’t need to present our documents for inspection, right?”

“Of course.” The father wiped his sweat and smiled. He slowly walked forward a few steps and looked toward the other side of the Great Wall. He could see this section was built on hills, with the northern side having more treacherous terrain. Remarkably, there was a plank road at the foot of the mountain that seemed passable for horses. The father smiled slightly, his face full of joy. Just as he was about to raise his whip and set off, he heard his wife say: “Wait, we’re still missing one person.” She turned and cupped her hands to call loudly: “Second son! Everyone’s about to pass through the gates! Where are you running off to?”

In the parents’ eyes, Haisheng was capable, Zheyu was shrewd, Chunfeng was caring – each had their uses. Even Bichao could tell jokes and was the family’s source of joy. Only this second son was solitary and strange, like a natural ghost. Seeing his mother’s anxiety, Chunfeng suddenly said: “Mother, don’t blame second brother. I think he has so many strange thoughts because grandfather influenced him.”

The mother was surprised: “Influenced by grandfather?”

Chunfeng said: “Wasn’t grandfather very ill a year ago? You were all busy then and had no time to watch him, so second brother stayed by the sickbed the whole time. I think grandfather must have told him something, which made him like this.”

The father said coldly: “This child has never fit in since he was small and has never pleased his parents. If he doesn’t want to come with us, we might as well leave him behind!”

The mother panicked: “Don’t be reckless… this… this is a desolate wilderness… how… how can you leave him here?”

With a crack of the whip striking the ground, the father raised his whip and was about to drive away when a figure appeared in front of the wagon – who else could it be but the second son?

The father said coldly: “Get in the cart.”

The second son looked down at the ground, speechless. The mother clicked her tongue and was about to get down to persuade him, but the father stopped her, saying grimly: “I’ll say it once more – get in the cart.”

The child lowered his head and remained silent. The father took a deep breath: “If you don’t get in the cart, father won’t want you anymore. Are you afraid?”

The second son’s eyes reddened slightly as he nodded. The father said: “Good, since you still know fear, then get in the cart. Father promises not to hit you, how about that?”

Seeing his second son remain silent and motionless, ignoring everyone, the father became somewhat angry. With great difficulty, the whole family had reached the Great Wall and could finally pass through, yet they were stuck here again? Blue veins bulged on his forehead as he said grimly: “You won’t get in the cart? Fine! Then stay here!” He raised his whip to drive away, but suddenly heard the horses neighing. The second son had actually spread his arms wide and blocked directly in front of the wagon, stopping their path.

The father was both shocked and furious: “What are you doing? Won’t you let us leave?”

The second son remained silent, just blocking in front of the cart, neither speaking nor yielding. The father flew into a rage, raising his whip as he got down from the cart: “Will you move or not?”

The mother hurriedly stopped her husband: “You mustn’t.”

The second son was six or seven years younger than Haisheng, still young and weak. If he were struck by the whip, he would surely be seriously injured. But the father was in his anger and pushed his wife aside, shouting: “Don’t stop me!” Just as he was about to strike, the second son ducked under the cart and hid. The father snorted and returned to the driver’s seat to start moving, but the second son emerged again to block the cart.

After several rounds of this, the father was so angry his vision darkened: “Haisheng! You drive the cart!” He then raised his whip and slowly got down, staring at his second son.

Earlier, the second son had used diversionary tactics, hiding and dodging so no one could do anything about him. But now with Haisheng driving, if he still wanted to play hide-and-seek with father, he could no longer block the cart. The father said grimly: “I’m asking you one last time – will you get in the cart or not?”

The child looked down, motionless and speechless. The father said grimly: “Second son, don’t blame father for not loving you. Either get in the cart or get out of my way. Otherwise, if you get trampled to death by the horses, father won’t shed a single tear for you. Do you understand?”

The child began to cry but still wouldn’t yield an inch. The father shouted: “Haisheng! Go!” Haisheng took up the reins and drove the horses forward. The child desperately spread his hands to block them, but unexpectedly, father grabbed him and roared: “You beast!”

The father raised his hand to strike. The second son was knocked to the ground, and something fell from his pocket. Zheyu looked down and couldn’t help but turn pale with shock, saying in a trembling voice: “Father, mother… look at this…”

The whole family gathered around and in shock cried out two words in unison: “The documents!”

Finally, the documents were found! The family had been wandering at the Great Wall for half a month, unable to enter or retreat, precisely because the travel documents had disappeared. Who would have thought this item had vanished because the second son had hidden it away?

Seeing the second son had stolen from them, from parents down to Bichao, all looked at each other in amazement. The mother murmured: “Why… why did he steal the documents?”

Zheyu smiled bitterly: “He… he probably felt we were neglecting him…”

The second son was breathing rapidly and had already fainted, but the family’s sympathy gradually ceased and disgust suddenly arose. No one knew what he was trying to do. Perhaps he felt his parents didn’t value him and his siblings always excluded him, so he decided to hide the family’s most important possession. But regardless, he shouldn’t have done such a thing. Didn’t he know how crucial this journey was, involving the life and death of the whole family?

Suddenly, low sounds came from outside the wall.

Clip-clop… clip-clop clop… clip-clop clop clop… The sounds grew denser, approaching from far away without cease. In the evening light, something beyond the pass seemed about to appear. The whole family was stunned, involuntarily exchanging glances. In their bewilderment, the dust gradually settled, revealing a horse with a man astride it. His forehead was completely shaved, with braids on both sides hanging over his shoulders – this was a “three-braided style.” The newcomer was indeed a “Tatar.”

Clip-clop… clip-clop… Beyond the Great Wall arose clamorous voices, though what they were saying was unclear. In the chaos, iron hooves churned up flying dust as horse after horse climbed the mountain path and reached the Great Wall, facing this family across the wall.

Both sides faced each other, one inside the wall, one outside. Outside were eighteen riders in total, all Tatar warriors. Some carried sabers, some hung bows. All were silent, but they blocked the exit route.

In the silent standoff, seeing the opposing warriors about to draw their blades, the family trembled with fear. The sun grew lower and lower, the grassland turned blood red, and gradually the earth had darkened. At the horizon, only a thin rainbow-like strip of blue light remained, mixed with colorful evening clouds. In the murky darkness, the children suddenly cried out: “Father! Look there! Look!”

Hearing this, the Tatar leader suddenly raised his hand. The horse hooves gradually slowed, and the large group of riders unanimously pulled their reins and all gazed into the distance. They saw tree shadows in the evening glow, blood-like sunset clouds scattered and reflected, illuminating a flag fluttering in the wilderness – “Sun” on the left, “Moon” on the right, reaching from heaven to earth. This was…

The Sun and Moon Flag! The banner for driving out the Tatars! The whole family raised their hands and cried out desperately: “Help! Help!”

The father gritted his teeth and suddenly whipped the horses frantically. At this moment, there was no avoiding it – to escape the Tatars’ deadly hands, they had to rely on this royal flag’s protection.

With whinnying horses, the two steeds galloped madly like moths to flame, heading straight for where the flag pole fluttered. But the wagon was heavy, and after running about five or six li, the horses were panting and foaming, unable to run anymore. The whole family abandoned their baggage and jumped down from the cart, crying loudly: “Officers! Save us! Please save us!”

Drawing near, they saw only an empty space with a lone bare pole. On the pole hung a royal flag of ancient design, with the sun and moon embroidery faded and unclear. Zheyu said in a trembling voice: “How… how is there no one here?”

Everyone looked around in horror and saw that not far from the flagpole, a deep pit had been dug. In the pit lay an old soldier in military dress, covered with a grass mat. Beside the pit were placed a shovel, a large sword, and a high pile of yellow earth. The mother said miserably: “This man is dead…”

“No! No!” Chunfeng and Zheyu burst into tears, and the parents also embraced and wept. No one understood where this pit came from, only knowing that behind them, the foreign cavalry was gradually closing in, surrounding the whole family on all sides.

There was no salvation. In this desolate wilderness, there wasn’t another soul for a hundred li. The horse hooves stopped, followed by the sound of boots on ground as all eighteen riders dismounted and eighteen strong men came forward on foot.

Bichao shivered with cold, wanting to pick up the military sword to fight the enemies with her life. (Why would a girl fight with her life?) She had just bent down when with a sharp sound, a short stocky man drew a horn-handled knife first and grinned. The horn knife was drawn to kill her, but suddenly there was a loud clang as a weapon swung over and blocked the blade for Bichao.

Sparks flew and the sound shook the plain. In the remaining evening light, the short stocky man cried out in pain and fell to the ground. A boy lay there, his left arm limp and already dislocated, but his right hand still gripped the military sword tightly. Bichao rushed forward, crying: “Second brother!”

The second son had returned alive! He came just in time and managed to save Bichao. The short stocky man was caught off guard by the sword strike and rolled on the ground in pain – the wound on his arm was deep enough to see bone.

The Tatar leader’s eyes blazed with fury. He waved his hand, and with several sharp sounds, everyone drew their hunting knives and advanced toward this family.

The moment of life and death had arrived. Father’s fate, Haisheng’s fate, Bichao’s fate, and even mother and sisters’ honor all depended on the military sword in their hands for protection. Though the second son trembled all over and was terrified, he absolutely could not retreat. One large, one small faced each other angrily. The leader suddenly raised his hand high and chopped down heavily. The child also showed extraordinary courage, wielding the military sword with one hand and boldly meeting the attack.

With a thunderous crash, a blinding golden light flashed. The Tatar leader tumbled backward in embarrassment. Everyone was shocked and cried out endlessly. The Tatars opened their eyes in alarm, and even father, mother, Zheyu, Chunfeng, Haisheng, and Bichao all opened their mouths wide.

The sun was about to disappear, and a new moon rose slowly in the east. The military sword was firmly held in the second son’s hand, but his hand was grasped by someone else’s. Under the gaze of dozens of eyes, an old man gasping for breath crouched behind the second son – it was he who had acted to save the child’s life.

Haisheng said in a trembling voice: “This… this is the old soldier who was lying in the pit…”

Earlier, when everyone fled in panic and later saw the Sun and Moon royal flag, they followed its guidance and escaped to this place, where they saw an old soldier in the pit. They thought this person was already dead, not expecting he could still rise up to fight the enemy.

The old soldier was gravely ill – his complexion was ashen, his belly seemed swollen with accumulated water, and he gasped continuously. He took a suona horn from his waist and was about to put it to his mouth when suddenly there was a buzzing sound of a bowstring. A Tatar had taken out a light bow and shot a feathered arrow at him.

The old soldier bit his teeth and raised his sword, but with just one exertion, he immediately bent over clutching his belly, showing pain. Blood spurted out as the arrow penetrated his armor and lodged in his arm up to the feathers. The Tatars showed no mercy – six or seven more arrows shot over immediately. The old soldier had no strength to resist and could only tightly embrace the child, protecting him.

With several whooshing sounds, the old soldier was hit by arrows all over his body. The Tatar leader waved his hand to stop his companions, then stepped forward with his sword. He wanted to personally kill this man!

A fierce wind broke the air as the horn knife chopped down at his head. The old soldier gritted his teeth and raised his hands to protect his head and face. With a clang, countless sparks flew in the night, but the old soldier continued gasping as before, his body still intact. Everyone turned in surprise to see the sword was held in the child’s hand – he had blocked this fatal strike for the old soldier.

The Tatars looked at each other in amazement, all feeling astonished. This horn knife was so heavy that even adults couldn’t withstand its heavy strike, yet this child of six or seven years could actually deflect this thunderous blow? The leader didn’t believe it and immediately struck again with full force. With another clang, the horn knife was again blocked and parried.

Everyone could see clearly that the child had compressed his body and used the sword blade as a shield, using his body weight to firmly resist – no wonder he could block this strike. The Tatars were slightly surprised, while the leader spat and waved his hand for his companions to all attack with their swords.

Quiet weeping filled the air as everyone knew the second son would be chopped to pieces, yet the child refused to leave even unto death. There was a continuous clanging sound as golden light flashed, mixed with countless muffled groans of pain. The Tatars stumbled backward, all forced to retreat.

Under the excited gaze of his parents, the old soldier knelt on one knee – he had counterattacked with a move. Only now did everyone realize this old soldier was extraordinary. With his gravely ill, dying body, he could still single-handedly face eighteen riders. His casual sword stroke produced intimidating golden light, forcing all enemies to retreat.

The leader was shocked and furious, not understanding how this old man and young child could be so strange. He personally took the crossbow to shoot them from afar, but saw the old soldier lower his head and blow the suona horn with all his might.

Woo… woo… woo…

The suona sound should have been high and stirring, but now it sounded like the low roar of a dying beast, desolate and mournful. Gradually the suona sound grew faint and disappeared. The old soldier had also received a fatal sword strike and collapsed, motionless.

The leader’s eyes bulged as he was about to turn around, but felt a coolness at his throat – a long sword was pressed against it. His teeth chattered as he looked down to see “Yanshan Thirteen Guards” engraved in seal script on the sword. A military officer bent down, grabbed the leader’s topknot, pulled him up, and whispered with a smile: “Tatar… do you know what place this is?”

The Tatars were greatly alarmed and were about to draw their swords to resist when they heard continuous swishing sounds as a large number of arrows shot through the air and landed at their feet. Haisheng looked up eagerly and cried with joy: “Father! It’s the imperial army! It’s the imperial army!”

The Sun and Moon flag was raised high, and beneath it were two vertical banners – “Longqing” on the left and “Yanshan” on the right, one the reign title, one the military title. Horse after horse of fine steeds, soldier after soldier in heavy armor, spread across all directions, numbering in the thousands.

The leading officer smiled slightly and turned the leader’s head to make him look toward the distant mountain peak.

Dusk enveloped the land as the sun was about to completely set. At this moment, heaven and earth were at their darkest. Gradually, the evening sun sank behind the mountains and the new moon began to shine. Sun and moon appeared together, casting a final black shadow from the distant mountain peak onto the earth.

A finger pointed up, following the black shadow straight ahead. At the fingertip’s end was a newly risen golden star, positioned exactly atop the peak.

Sun, moon, and star – three celestial wonders appeared together, each casting a ray of light that converged on the great grassland. The father’s eyes widened as he said in a trembling voice: “This… this is the foot of Tianshou Mountain…”

The leading officer smiled and nodded: “Correct. This place is indeed Tianshou Mountain, Changling of Tianshou Mountain.”

The father had just escaped the tiger’s mouth and was originally full of gratitude, but hearing the words “Changling,” he couldn’t help but cry out and fall backward, trembling all over, knowing he had come to a place he absolutely shouldn’t have come to.

Tianshou Mountain, Changling of Tianshou Mountain – the entrance to the underground palace of the netherworld.

The leading officer grabbed the Tatar leader and with one forceful pressure made him kneel on the ground. His subordinates also brought all the barbarians and made them kneel in a row facing Tianshou Mountain. The leading officer leaned over and asked softly: “Friend, do you know who lives here? Hmm?”

For a moment, all the Tatars’ teeth chattered as they raised their faces to gaze toward distant Tianshou Mountain, unable even to stand steadily.

This shadow city was a tomb, more awe-inspiring to mortals than the underworld itself, because buried here was a person no one dared to awaken.

Changping County, beneath Tianshou Mountain, was buried the third ruler of the Sun and Moon Dynasty – the emperor with the greatest martial achievements in Chinese history, unprecedented and unmatched: “Emperor Yongle.”

He was the emperor with the worst reputation, not only imitating the First Emperor in building the Great Wall but also learning from Emperor Wu in conquering foreign lands. He made six expeditions against the Northern Yuan, seven voyages to the Western Ocean, and eight hundred thousand troops conquered Annan. Even the First Emperor and Emperor Wu combined could not match this man’s militaristic nature. This was the life of martial dominance of “Emperor Yongle,” buried in Tianshou Mountain.

At the zenith, sun, moon, and star – three celestial wonders shone together, illuminating the distant dark hall. Everyone understood this was the entrance to Emperor Yongle’s mausoleum: “Ling’en Hall.” Only then did everyone realize why the old soldier could summon reinforcements with one blast of the suona – these “Yanshan Thirteen Guards” were the tomb-guarding troops.

The officer had dignified bearing and extraordinary presence, and his subordinates also wore golden armor, suggesting they were of considerable rank. It seemed that at the foot of the Son of Heaven, the atmosphere was majestic and stern. These soldiers held themselves in high regard, completely different from the local militia of remote areas.

The officer looked around and, seeing a man bowing his head submissively like the head of the household, summoned him and asked: “Where do you come from? How did you encounter this group of Tatars?” The father said quietly: “We… we are merchants in a hurry to pass through the gates for business. We didn’t expect a section of the Great Wall to have collapsed and nearly… nearly fell into their hands…”

The leading officer smiled and looked toward the women. Seeing their terrified expressions, he patted the Tatar leader’s cheek and smiled: “Friend, north of Juyong Pass, whatever you want to do is none of my concern. But you’ve invaded the Great Wall and plundered the Son of Heaven’s subjects before Emperor Yongle – this cannot be tolerated.” He surveyed all the barbarians and suddenly grabbed a young man, saying to the leader: “This is your son, isn’t it?”

The leader was greatly alarmed, his knees going weak. The leading officer smiled, knowing he had the right person, and immediately waved his hand: “Bring the Five Organs Knives.”

The Tatar leader trembled violently: “No… no…” The officer laughed heartily: “So you can speak Chinese – that makes it more interesting.” As he spoke, subordinates brought an iron basin containing five gleaming ritual knives. The officer smiled and explained: “The so-called Five Organs Knives are five ritual instruments specifically used for cutting open bellies, divided into heart-gouging, liver-plucking, kidney-taking, intestine-severing… Look at this one…” He immediately picked up a double-headed short knife, hooked at one end and spoon-shaped at the other, smiling: “This is a liver-plucking spoon – first hook, then scoop, and the liver can be gouged out in one motion…”

The two young women turned pale, and even Haisheng, who prided himself on being bold, couldn’t help but change color. The Tatars who understood Chinese trembled even more, their teeth chattering and eyes red as they hoarsely said: “Officer, we… we acted on impulse… please… please show mercy…” The officer smiled: “If you had shown mercy earlier, would this moment have come?” The officer grabbed the young man’s topknot, forcing him to raise his head, then took a ritual knife and with a hiss, had already cut open his clothing, exposing his hairy chest.

Whether from excessive fright or deliberate pleading, the young man began crying loudly, his mournful cries echoing far and wide, unbearable to hear. The officer was hard-hearted – his right hand held the knife while his left palm firmly pressed down on the Tatar’s body, making him face Tianshou Mountain. With one stroke, without looking or aiming, he cut open the outer robe straight down the middle, opening it evenly on both sides with perfect precision.

The Tatar leader wept profusely, his legs giving way, while the young man cried out pitifully and struggled desperately. But how could he escape when the leading officer’s martial arts were so superior? Under the moonlight, the ritual knife gleamed even brighter. The officer raised the knife and scraped the hair from the Tatar’s chest, the hair falling in clumps. He smiled slightly, glanced at the Tatar leader, then looked at the Chinese women. Suddenly his brow furrowed as he straightened up and released the man.

The young Tatar fell to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. The subordinates didn’t understand why their commander had changed his mind and all frowned: “Sir, what is this…”

The leading officer shook his head: “Officers, listen to my command – release these barbarians.”

The father was greatly shocked: “Officer… you… you’re not going to kill him?”

The officer said: “I don’t want to do something unnecessary.”

The father was completely bewildered: “Unnecessary? Officer… what do you mean by this?”

The officer turned to look at the women and said lightly: “They’ve closed their eyes.”

The father hurriedly turned to see his eldest daughter Zheyu, second daughter Chunfeng, and his wife all had their eyes tightly shut, not daring to look. The scene was apparently too bloody and had frightened them all.

The officer smiled: “Friend, let me speak honestly. Seeing my cruel methods, you must be thinking that these military officers are bloodthirsty and murderous, cold and ruthless, just like those barbarians, right?” Hearing this, the father swallowed and looked down, not daring to answer. The officer smiled: “Don’t be afraid, I don’t blame you. If I were a commoner, I would think the same.” With that, he threw the ritual knife back into the basin, clapped his hands, and called loudly: “Men! Let them go!”

Hearing the command, the subordinates each released their grip and pushed away the Tatars. The barbarians were both surprised and delighted, yet feared another trick. A soldier raised his whip and cracked it forcefully on the ground, shouting: “Why aren’t you leaving?”

The barbarians had been half-believing, but startled by the whip crack, they had no time for deep thought. With a shout, they mounted their horses and galloped north in escape. The mother had originally kept her eyes tightly closed, but hearing the exchange, she opened them and said tremblingly: “Officer… you… you really let them go?”

The officer said calmly: “I have no old grudges or recent enmity with these people – why should I make things difficult for them?” The mother said tremblingly: “How… how can you do this? You’re a court military officer receiving a salary…”

The officer smiled: “Very well, in madam’s opinion, what should this humble officer do?”

The mother said quietly: “You… you should eliminate threats for the people, otherwise it’s dereliction of duty…”

“Dereliction of duty?” The officer smiled, took the mother’s hand and helped her up, putting one arm around her slender waist while beckoning to his subordinates: “Men! Bring my iron-core great bow.”

The mother found herself in the officer’s embrace, her face flushing and heart racing. The father was beside himself with anger: “What… what are you doing?” The leading officer paid him no heed, simply taking the bow and arrows from his subordinate, then grasping the mother’s hand and helping her draw the full bow, whispering in her ear: “Come, choose which one you want to kill – we’ll do it together.”

The sun had long since set, and under the moonlight, the Tatars could be seen fleeing in panic like prey to be hunted. The officer crouched down, bringing the mother’s hand to aim together at the Tatars’ backs, whispering: “Look, these people also have families, wives and children. In their homeland, someone is waiting for them to return. If we shoot this arrow, someone in the world will cry.”

With this thought, the mother’s beautiful face turned pale. Though her jade fingers were pained by the bowstring, she still dared not release the arrow.

With a powerful bow and hard crossbow in hand, the enemies’ lives hung on a single thought. The mother trembled all over, her face full of hesitation. Haisheng shouted: “Mother! Kill them! Mother!” Gradually, the barbarians on the plain became tiny dots, but the mother still couldn’t bring herself to act. The officer smiled and put away the bow and arrows: “Madam, do you know what I hate most in life?”

The mother’s face was deathly pale – she couldn’t say a word. The officer said calmly: “I most hate when common people act as if it’s none of their business, saying things like ‘when will grievance and revenge end,’ as if we military men are born butchers with bloody hands. This humble officer simply wants to tell you that you and I are both human, with the same compassionate hearts. However good your heart is, mine is equally good; however dirty your hands are, mine are equally dirty.” He leaned toward the woman’s powdered cheek and whispered: “Madam, did you hear me clearly?”

The officer was naturally romantic. Seeing his lips so close it was almost like a kiss, how could the father not be angry? He quickly stepped in front of his wife, gritting his teeth and panting: “Your Excellency… may I ask your honored name? Could you share it?”

These military officers were not like border bandits – each had a name and position. If reported to the authorities, molesting civilian women would be a serious crime. But the officer was unafraid, saying lightly: “Want to copy down my name? Here is my command token. My official rank and position are written on it.”

The father looked down to see the officer hand him an iron tablet with seal script reading: “Yanshan Left Guard Deputy Commander. Seventh Rank Bai Bixia.” The father snorted and secretly memorized the name, then helped his wife up, saying quietly: “Are you alright?” The mother’s cheeks were flushed as she said: “I… I’m fine.” As she spoke, she glanced again at the officer, appearing even more shy and timid.

This Bai Bixia was about thirty years old, dashing and handsome, naturally able to capture women’s hearts. He looked around and, seeing an overturned wagon nearby, ordered men to right it and gave wound medicine to Haisheng and Bichao. The mother took the infant from the cart – fortunately she was completely unharmed and sleeping peacefully, clearly a child with great fortune and fate.

Seeing Bai Bixia approach, Chunfeng couldn’t help but blush and asked quietly: “Sir… there’s a gap broken in that section of the Great Wall. Will you send people to repair it?” Bai Bixia shook his head: “No.” The whole family exclaimed in surprise. Chunfeng was bewildered: “Why… why not send people to repair it? Is it lack of money?”

Bai Bixia gazed at Chunfeng and smiled: “Miss, do you want to become ‘Lady Meng Jiang’?”

At the mention of “Lady Meng Jiang,” the whole family swallowed and fell silent. Bai Bixia smiled: “Miss, you don’t want to be Lady Meng Jiang, and this humble officer doesn’t want to be the First Emperor. As for that section of the Great Wall, let it be.” Chunfeng timidly lowered her head, unable to respond, but then Zheyu said: “Sir, will… will those Tatars come through the pass again?” Bai Bixia said calmly: “Sorry, that’s not my concern.” Zheyu was bewildered: “Not… not your concern? Why?”

Bai Bixia smiled: “I’m being transferred.”

This Bai Bixia had an unusual style, quite different from ordinary military officers. He smiled slightly and was about to turn and leave when he suddenly saw an oiled cloth bundle on the ground. He immediately bent down to pick it up and asked: “Whose is this?” The father turned to look and was greatly shocked: “Wait, that… that’s my property.”

Bai Bixia was in no hurry to return it, only opening the oiled paper package and examining it carefully, musing: “This is a sea chart?” The father stammered: “This… this chart is used for fishing, nothing important… you… quickly return it to me…” Bai Bixia pondered for a long while: “What is your honored surname, sir?”

The father coughed: “I… I am surnamed Fang, with the courtesy name Zhengyu.” Bai Bixia glanced at him sideways, then stuffed the sea chart back and smiled: “Since it’s a treasure, find a place to hide it well. Don’t always carry it on your person – it’s easy for people to snatch.”

This was like protesting too much – look at his keen eye, seeing through the deception immediately. The mother sighed, knowing her husband was incompetent. She looked around and suddenly said: “Oh yes, where’s the second son? How has he disappeared again?”

All this trouble was caused by the second son. He had hidden the travel documents, forcing his parents to risk passing through the gates and encountering bandits. But he himself had paid a heavy price, having his ribs broken by horse hooves. The mother was worried about her second son’s injuries and was about to get up to look for him when she heard Bichao say: “Mother, second brother is over there.”

Everyone turned to see the royal flag fluttering in the moonlight – the same “Sun and Moon Flag” they had first seen. Below the flag was the deep pit they had dug, with an old soldier lying beside it and a small child crouching nearby – who else but the second son?

Bai Bixia slowly approached, and the whole family followed. They saw the old soldier’s eyes rolled back, breathing more out than in – he seemed done for. Zheyu said quietly: “Officer, who is this person? Is he your subordinate?” Bai Bixia shook his head: “No, he’s a general from the previous dynasty.” The father was slightly shocked: “Previous dynasty?” Bai Bixia nodded: “The Yongle reign.” This was a general of Emperor Yongle! Hearing this, everyone raised their heads to gaze at distant “Tianshou Mountain.”

The mother said quietly: “What’s wrong with this man? Was he injured by those Tatars?” Bai Bixia said: “He was already ill.” Chunfeng was surprised: “Ill? Then… then what’s he doing here?” Bai Bixia said: “He came here to wait for death.”

The whole family was shocked, saying in unison: “Wait for death?” Bai Bixia nodded and pointed to the wilderness. Following his finger, they saw the field was full of earth mounds about a foot square, quite unremarkable. The mother gasped in realization: “These… these are all graves, aren’t they?” Though Bai Bixia said nothing, everyone understood. At the foot of Tianshou Mountain were buried countless soldiers of the Yongle reign. Before dying, they came to this place hoping to be buried beside Emperor Yongle, to eternally accompany him in underground slumber.

The cold moonlight shone on thousands upon thousands of earth mounds, making the scene even more desolate and mournful. In the silence, the father suddenly said quietly: “Foolish loyalty.” This place was Emperor Yongle’s mausoleum, and these military officers were generals of the Sun and Moon Dynasty. For father to suddenly make such a comment – wasn’t this greatly taboo? The mother’s heart was anxious, and the children were also surprised and uncertain, afraid the other party would angrily turn hostile. But then they heard Bai Bixia laugh: “Don’t worry…” He raised his head to gaze at Changling, Tianshou Mountain, and said softly: “It’s already the Longqing era now.”

Emperor Yongle had long since passed away. With changing times and dynasties, the supreme ruler of China was no longer the tyrant of old but the magnanimous Emperor Longqing.

The old soldier was dying, his eyes tightly closed. Hearing the response, he opened his eyes again. Seeing the child crouching nearby gazing at him, he struggled to raise his hand to stroke the child’s small face: “Good child, what is your name?”

The child’s cheek was highly swollen, his left eye barely able to open. He gripped the old soldier’s hand tightly as tears flowed down. Chunfeng crouched down beside them: “Grandfather, he’s surnamed Fang, ranked second in the family, and named Zijing.”

The old soldier chuckled: “Zijing, Zijing… good name…” Suddenly there was a cry as the child actually cried out to heaven in pain. The mother was greatly alarmed: “What are you doing?” Before she could rush out, Bai Bixia stopped her, saying calmly: “Don’t be afraid, he’s setting the child’s bones.”

Though the child was brave, the heart-wrenching pain still made him unable to help covering his face and weeping. The old soldier comforted him: “Good child, don’t cry, don’t cry…” He gasped for a while, then turned to Chunfeng: “Where are you from? You’re… southerners, aren’t you?” This time it was Chunfeng’s turn to hesitate. She turned to look at her parents, not knowing whether to answer, when she heard the child say quietly: “We’re from Zhejiang.” The old soldier was stunned: “Zhejiang people?” The child nodded: “Haining, Zhejiang.”

Hearing this, the parents’ faces changed dramatically, and all the officers present were stirred to commotion, crying out in alarm. The old soldier said tremblingly: “Zhejiang… Haining people? Surnamed… surnamed Fang?” The father bowed his head, not daring to speak, while a large group of soldiers put their hands on their sword hilts and all gathered around. Bichao didn’t know what had happened and, full of fear, hid in her mother’s arms again.

The situation took a sharp turn and became deathly quiet. Only Bai Bixia waved his hand and said lightly: “All of you, stand down.” The soldiers were quite hesitant, but heard Bai Bixia say: “It’s fine, it’s already the Longqing era.”

The parents exchanged glances and secretly breathed a sigh of relief. The soldiers also sheathed their swords and said no more. The father knew this place was not suitable for lingering and hurriedly instructed his son: “Haisheng, quickly bring your brother over – we’re leaving.”

Haisheng stepped forward and grabbed his brother, saying: “Let’s go! Didn’t you hear father calling you?” The second son was pulled to his feet and was about to leave when his small hand was grasped by the old soldier.

The second son turned to look down and saw the old soldier with tears streaming down, his lips murmuring as if he had something to say. The second son seemed deeply moved and immediately broke free from his brother’s grasp to come to the old soldier’s side. Haisheng frowned: “Old man, what do you want?”

The old soldier struggled to raise his hand and gasped: “Child… come here… come here…” The child obeyed and drew near. The old soldier raised his hand to his neck and slowly removed a necklace: “This… this is for you.”

Haisheng was slightly startled and quickly looked down to see his brother now held a chain – old and green with patina, with carved text visible, strung with a key. He exclaimed and was about to snatch it for a closer look and claim it as his own when suddenly he lost his footing and tumbled to the ground – the second son had tripped him.

The old soldier chuckled breathlessly and put the necklace around the second son’s neck: “Good child… for me… take good care of this chain, never… never give it to others…” The second son lowered his head and silently stroked the chain around his neck, already agreeing.

The scene was strange. The father, fearing complications, personally stepped forward and took the child’s hand: “Let’s go!” The child looked back at the old soldier but followed his father, slowly being led to the cart.

In the misty night, this family was about to leave. Several officers hurriedly gathered around Bai Bixia and said quietly: “Sir, this family seems suspicious. Should we investigate?” Bai Bixia smiled: “What’s there to investigate? At most it’s just that matter – why make a big fuss?” A subordinate said quietly: “What about that key’s origin? Should I go ask?”

Bai Bixia patted the subordinate’s shoulder reassuringly: “Trust me. It’s best to avoid things from the Yongle reign.” The first rule of officialdom: better to have one less matter than one more, to avoid disasters and calamities. Everyone stopped talking and was about to mount their horses when a subordinate reported: “Sir, the old soldier has died.”

Bai Bixia had already reached his horse and was about to leave. Hearing this, he slowed his steps. The subordinate said: “Sir, the old soldier still has some belongings. Should we bury them together?” Bai Bixia pondered slightly, then immediately returned and walked closer, hands on his hips, gazing down at the old soldier on the ground.

The old soldier before them had dark skin, clearly a man of hardship. Looking at his military dress, the armor was slightly tattered and didn’t fit very well – probably clothing from his youth. Looking beside his feet, there was a bundle, a large sword, and an iron shovel, apparently used for digging. Bai Bixia pondered for a long while: “When did this man arrive?”

A subordinate said: “When we came here on patrol half a month ago, we saw this old man digging here. He said he was ill and probably wouldn’t live long, and asked us to accommodate him by letting him wait for death beneath Tianshou Mountain. We saw he was pitiful and didn’t stop him. We just didn’t expect this man to be so hardy – he actually lasted more than ten days before dying.”

Without food or drink, sustained only by a single breath, the old soldier had endured half a month – his martial arts must have been considerable. But in other words, this man must have suffered extreme loneliness and pain before death.

Bai Bixia mused: “Did he ever mention his background?” The subordinates said quietly: “No. He only said he came from Henan and made a living performing martial arts. When we asked his name and past military achievements, he absolutely refused to say.”

Bai Bixia nodded: “Very well, since he died in our jurisdiction, go check that bundle – at least we should find out this man’s name.”

The subordinates crouched down and opened the bundle. Inside was a steamed bun, long since moldy and stinking, plus several worn pieces of clothing, all washed until faded white. As for this man’s name, background, achievements, and military rank, there were still no clues.

Seeing they couldn’t determine the man’s identity, Bai Bixia was at a loss. Just as he was about to order burial, he suddenly saw something buried in the mud and sand of the pit. Bai Bixia’s mind moved – he quickly leaped into the pit, picked up the object, and jumped back out.

Seeing their superior’s agile movements, the subordinates naturally cheered loudly. Bai Bixia raised his hand to stop their cheers and looked down at his palm to see an iron tablet.

In the faint moonlight, the iron tablet was covered with rust, with barely visible characters. Bai Bixia threw the iron tablet to his subordinate: “Read it aloud.” The subordinate looked down and read: “Military Officer Guo Fengjie, from Changsha, Hunan, born in the twelfth year of Zhizheng, appointed Yanshan Lieutenant, Sixth Rank Commander… Years eight and twenty-one of Yongle, accompanied the Emperor on personal campaigns against Mongolia… Years four, seven, and thirteen of Yongle, served as Left Vanguard, accompanying Duke of Ying on three expeditions to Jiaozhi… Captured the Li father and son at Gaowang Mountain…”

Bai Bixia nodded: “That’s right. This man followed Emperor Yongle in his youth and was one of the ‘Eight Tigers of Yanshan.'”

The officers were shocked to learn that this nameless old soldier had such distinguished military achievements. In his youth, he had fought in northern campaigns against Mongolia and southern expeditions to Jiaozhi, even capturing the Annan usurper – he was one of the previous dynasty’s vanguard generals.

“Yanshan” was a general term referring to the various forces north of the capital and south of the Great Wall, collectively called the “Thirteen Guards of Yanshan.” However, those familiar with court politics knew that the “Yanshan Guard” originally had only about eight hundred men, all warriors recruited by Emperor Yongle in his early years. The eight most valiant generals among them were called by contemporaries: “The Eight Tigers of Yanshan.”

Bai Bixia took a deep breath: “During this half month, did he never mention his identity?” The subordinates looked at each other, no one able to speak. After a long, long while, one person said quietly: “This man spoke very little. Only once when we were patrolling by, we heard him muttering to himself that the most satisfying thing in his life was being first to break through Dadu… At the time, everyone couldn’t help but find it amusing…”

Bai Bixia frowned: “Amusing? What’s amusing?” The officers said: “Breaking through Dadu was a great battle from when Taizu founded the nation. Even if this old man was very old, at that time he would have been only eleven or twelve years old – how could it have been his turn to take the field?” Amid bitter laughter, everyone was skeptical, but they heard Bai Bixia say softly: “It could have been his turn. When the founding uprising began, there was a group of children who followed Emperor Hongwu, known as ‘Disaster Children.'”

The soldiers were amazed: “Disaster Children? What does that mean?” Bai Bixia’s mouth moved slightly, wanting to speak but stopping, then just shook his head: “Forget it. See what else he’s carrying – if there are family or old friends, we should notify them too.”

The officers searched thoroughly inside and out, then handed the belongings to their superior. Bai Bixia looked down and couldn’t help frowning: “Three copper coins?”

“Yes.” The subordinate said: “This is all his worldly possessions.” Bai Bixia was silent for a long while: “Did he have any last words before dying?” The subordinates shook their heads – no one knew. Bai Bixia asked softly again: “What about his family? Did he ever mention them?” Everyone was speechless – apparently no one knew.

The scene was completely silent. Everyone gathered around this old soldier, some looking down and kicking dirt, others gazing toward the Great Wall – no one wanted to speak.

After fighting battles his whole life, he had nothing but these three copper coins. At the final stage of his life’s journey, only these strange officers were here to see him off. After a long while, a subordinate picked up the iron shovel and said quietly: “Everyone come over – let’s bury this gentleman.”

Everyone silently gathered around and lifted the corpse, about to throw him into the pit, when they heard Bai Bixia say: “Wait.”

The officers stopped and saw Bai Bixia remove his helmet and say softly: “Take down the Sun and Moon flag.” The subordinates quickly went to the flagpole, untied the tattered flag, and handed it to their superior.

Bai Bixia faced Tianshou Mountain and knelt on one knee, slowly lifting the old soldier and wrapping him in the Sun and Moon flag, saying softly: “Gentlemen, this is the example for us military men.” At this scene, all the officers were deeply moved. Everyone removed their helmets, tears filling their eyes, and all followed their superior in bowing down.

It was night, so naturally there was no sunlight to see, and even the moon had hidden away. This great Chinese realm was so dark and unfeeling. Bai Bixia looked coldly at the night sky and suddenly raised his hand to command: “Yanshan Guard! Fire signal cannons!”

With several bangs, the entire Yanshan Guard fired cannons toward heaven. Rocket after rocket shot up into the sky, and in the sky full of fireworks, heaven and earth were illuminated brightly, the land brilliant. Bai Bixia lifted the old soldier with both hands and personally placed him in the pit. The subordinates lined up and came forward, each picking up a handful of earth to sprinkle on the old soldier, slowly burying him.

The superior looked dejected. A subordinate whispered: “Sir, should we… should we erect a monument for him?”

“What monument?” Bai Bixia smiled and looked back at the subordinate: “Don’t forget what era this is now…” He pointed at the collapsed gap in the Great Wall and smiled: “The Longqing era.”