UCTOOT CH134

Knees sank into the yellow dirt, hands trembling as they held up a sealed missive. Surrounded by his victorious host, Xie Wuchi sat in the armchair at the head of the pavilion. Months of relentless slaughter had carved the lines of his brow into something deeply unreadable, radiating a cold detachment that chilled the air around him.

Nearby stood the dense, silent ranks of Xie’s army, coiled like wolves poised to strike.

The messenger reported, “This is a private dispatch from my general. The Great General has quelled the chaos across the realm, earning our boundless reverence. Should the Great General wish to enter the gates of the Eastern Capital, my general is willing to unbar the gates himself to welcome you and aid your grand design!”

Xie Wuchi asked flatly, “Who is your general?”

The messenger replied, “The Palace Command Grand Commander, currently overseeing the Imperial City Post, Chu De.”

Hearing the name, Xie Wuchi smiled faintly. “The Palace Command Grand Commander, commanding hundreds of thousands of imperial guards. Is this not the very General Chu who retreated step by step before the Min advance?”

Humiliated, the envoy stammered, “My general could not hold them off solely because His Majesty altered his decrees day and night, demanding the impossible…”

“Very well,” Xie Wuchi said. “It seems General Chu is an astute man with broad horizons. Tomorrow, we shall meet at the gates of the Eastern Capital.”

The onlookers could not fathom his intent. Stunned by how easily the audience had concluded, the messenger dropped to his knees in gratitude: “Understood!”

As the envoy backed out on his knees, officers murmured among themselves, pressing Xie Wuchi: “Does My Lord truly credit this man’s words to march through the gates?” “General, please reconsider!”

Xie Wuchi offered no reply. Taking a sip of tea, he lifted his eyelids: “Where is the Second Young Master?”

Xin Bin stepped forward to report: “Hearing the words from the Qiu Army, the Second Young Master set off for Shaoxing Prefecture to collect Young Master Du’s remains. Guards were sent to escort him; please rest assured, General.”

Xie Wuchi set down his teacup. “Du Zihan is dead?”

Xin Bin repeated the account brought by the Qiu Army. A sharp, scrutinizing glint flickered in Xie Wuchi’s eyes before settling into an impenetrable layer of frost.

“Dispatch additional men. Ensure the Second Young Master’s safety.”

In the wake of the autumn rains, the highway was a mire of mud. Fallen blossoms floated along swollen ditches in the valleys. As Shi Shu dismounted, his boot sank into waterlogged petals.

His horse trudged onward with uneven steps, passing through deserted, silent hamlets. Linjiang Prefecture had served as a battlefield; nine out of ten homes stood empty, cooking smoke long extinguished, stray dogs occasionally darting past clutching unidentifiable bones between their jaws.

Shi Shu spurred his mount, glancing back once over his shoulder. I’m sorry, Xie Wuchi. At this hour, I should be standing beside you to witness your triumph, but…

He turned forward as muddy water splashed high. A guard called out, “Second Young Master, take care! Though the main Min host has collapsed, scattered remnants still roam the hills. It is unsafe if we cross their path.”

Shi Shu seemed to shake himself awake: “Understood. Thank you, everyone. I will be careful.”

The guard continued, “We received intelligence that two remnant detachments converged in this direction before vanishing into the mountains. This subordinate has already requested an escort from the Qiu Army.”

A thought suddenly struck Shi Shu: “Earlier, when the generals reported their merits, I didn’t hear Yinkun’s name. Was he captured?”

The guard answered, “He was not among the prisoners.”

Shi Shu reined in his horse, halting abruptly. Ever since hearing of Du Zihan’s death, his mind had felt thick, numb, and frozen; only now did a spark of sharp clarity return.

Scanning the terrain, Shi Shu asked, “Where does this road lead? What towns lie ahead?”

The guard said, “We are traveling the Lanyang Road, passing through Ping’an County, Fengle County, Qionghua Township, Liushui Village, Wulin District, and finally into Shaoxing Prefecture.”

Shi Shu urged his mount forward at a walk, taking in the architecture flanking the road. White plaster walls, gray tiles, arched stone bridges, and carved vermilion gates, unmistakably the estates of prominent scholarly lineages. Yet the dwellings had been put to the torch, showing unmistakable signs of recent warfare.

Shi Shu asked, “This is territory under Dajing’s jurisdiction. Where are the imperial garrisons?”

The guard scoffed, “The imperial troops are in total disarray. Cowed and broken, they abandoned the common folk long ago.”

His horse stamped restlessly in the mud. Shi Shu snapped the reins, pressing further along the road as the path grew increasingly familiar. Memories surfaced in waves: countless days and nights traveling alongside Xie Wuchi, marching by day, resting in ruined mountain shrines by night, chattering endlessly while Xie listened.

And that night of the Red String Festival, small skiffs gliding across the water, the rapid beat of fishing drums, the bustling crowds. Back when Xie Wuchi had just begun carving his foundation, after quelling the pestilence in Shukang, they had detoured to Changyang County to retrieve Pei Wenqing’s registers, building ties with the reformist faction before riding back to the Eastern Capital.

Shi Shu froze. “I walked this road once before with someone.”

The guard asked, “What does the Second Young Master mean?”

Shi Shu pressed, “Further ahead, is that Changyang County, home to the foremost Confucian lineage, Hedong Academy?”

The guard replied, “Indeed. Continuing down this road leads straight to the intellectual heart of Dajing, the Xu clan’s Hedong Academy.”

A realization tore through Shi Shu’s mind like lightning. He hauled the reins, wheeling his horse around: “Do not go to Zihan first. Instruct the Qiu Army to send a company straight to Changyang County! Protect the academy!”

Two detachments of Min remnants gathered near a low ridge in Yuyang Village. Worn ragged by endless flight, the warriors were caked in soot and mud, leaning heavily against their curved scimitars.

Emaciated to the bone, hearing they could rest, they drew out their meager rations to gnaw on dry scraps.

Grumbling broke out among the ranks: “We found nothing to loot along this road. The peasants here were already starving to death, not a grain of rice left in their bins.”

Another spat, “What did you expect? The whole region was plundered clean during the war.”

A figure crept forward toward the leader of the remnants, producing a coarse steamed bun from his breast: “Prince, please eat. Your servant has two left.”

His face blackened with soot, Yinkun glanced at him, taking the bun with a laugh: “Well done, Chongge. You keep me in your thoughts. For this single bun, once we return to Beimin, I will have the Grand Sovereign grant you an official post and a thousand head of cattle.”

The youth named Chongge said bitterly, “Your servant serves the Prince out of loyalty, daring not ask for reward. Now that the war is lost, we can only take one step at a time.”

Tearing into the bun, Yinkun narrowed his eyes: “Have you never heard the phrase? Defeat is ordinary in the art of war. Our wolf-soldiers have not been crushed; we are merely executing a temporary withdrawal.”

Chongge lamented, “Prince, your servant saw with his own eyes that the Grand Sovereign was captured. The First Prince and the Third Prince were taken, and the Empress was seized. Why do we not flee north beyond the Tea River?”

Yinkun’s expression twisted into malice, his fingers clamping hard around the young man’s wrist: “What did you just say?”

Chongge lowered his voice in desperation: “North of the Tea River has fallen to Xi Xin and Han Tian, but if we flee further into the extreme north of the mountain range, we can build our empire anew…”

Yinkun said nothing, chewing the mouthful of bread down to the last crumb, staring at the youth as if tearing into his raw flesh. Terror seized Chongge, backing away, only to have his collar snatched from behind. Amid a burst of manic laughter, Yinkun drew his blade and ran him through.

Blood dripped from the steel as Yinkun’s eyes burned with rabid frenzy: “I said Beimin has not failed, and we will never fail!”

The surrounding warriors froze in horror. Someone muttered, “Prince, he was your companion since childhood…”

Yinkun snarled, “Only those who fight to crush the Jing people are my companions! Whoever dares speak of running again will taste my blade!”

The men dropped their heads in unison: “Understood.”

Armies encircled the city beneath a sullen sun.

In two hundred years of Dajing’s rule, this was the very first time the Eastern Capital had been besieged, sending shockwaves across the realm.

Commoners jammed the battlements and alleyways, peering down at Xie Wuchi’s host, while garrison troops looked on with fearful curiosity. Crowds pushed and shoved, trading murmurs: “Which one is General Xie?” “Which is he?” “General Xie’s veteran force has known only victory against the Min.” “Their discipline completely outclasses our own!”

Arrows bearing missives struck the ramparts. Commoners scrambled to unroll the slips, reading aloud: “The Great General crushed hundreds of thousands of Min invaders, burying thirty legions alive. Truly a force of tigers and wolves!”

Before the praise could spread, arriving imperial guards shoved past the crowds, snatching the proclamations and cutting down the man reading them on the spot.

Blood pooled across the stones. Scholars of the Imperial Academy ran through the streets, crying out in anguish: “The truth stands plain as day! Ironclad proof is before our eyes, why continue to deceive?! Stop killing the people! Stop killing the innocent!”

A light breeze drifted across the plain. Tens of thousands stood arrayed beneath the walls of the Eastern Capital: heavy cavalry at the fore, followed by infantry, flanked by siege engines, pressing against the gates like a looming storm. The capital’s drawbridges were hoisted high, watching the vanguard below with dread.

An armored hand rose. Before the silent ranks, the cavalry parted as a tall chestnut warhorse stepped out.

“General, there may be hidden archers upon the ramparts. You should not…”

Xie Wuchi said, “Step aside.”

Urging his steed forward, carrying a black Zhe bow with a quiver of arrows at his back, he rode at an unhurried pace to the very front of the battle line.

“That is General Xie! The General who made the northern raiders wail like ghosts!” Silence swept the ramparts as thousands held their breath, fixing their eyes upon the solitary figure before the vast host.

Over a hundred thousand men waited for whatever words would fall from his lips. This was supreme power: absolute obedience, every soul hanging upon his whim.

Xie Wuchi called out, “Where is Chu De of the Imperial City Post? Have him show his face.”

Moments later, the trembling commander who had promised to open the gates appeared upon the parapet. Standing safely behind the stone crenels, not daring to commit to open treason, he called out with forced warmth: “General Xie, on what business do you summon this general?”

Without a word, Xie Wuchi retrieved the black bow from his back. Slipped with a jade archer’s ring, his fingers drew a shaft tied with a sealed letter. Drawing the string taut, the bow curved like a full moon.

Xin Bin hollered from below with a mocking grin: “General Chu, hold still! Our General is testing his range!”

“What did you say?!”

“Preposterous!”

“What is the meaning of this?!”

Commotion erupted along the wall. The next instant, the string snapped. The arrow whistled through the air, streaking straight for Chu De’s throat. Chu De shrieked and ducked, but the broadhead tore through the flesh behind his ear, spattering blood, before burying itself deep into the mortar of the battlement.

Lowering the bow, Xie Wuchi smiled faintly. “Please deliver that missive to His Majesty, stating that Xie’s army arrives to present our triumph. The wolf-soldiers His Majesty ushered across the passes have been wiped out. I invite His Majesty and the civil and military court to step outside the city to inspect the head-mounds and watch polo, sharing the joy of victory.”

He added evenly, “Two days hence, if none emerge, Xie’s army will enter the city to converse with His Majesty in person.”

Turning his mount back to the ranks, deafening roars of laughter erupted from his men: “Hahahaha! Invite His Majesty and his ministers outside to watch! Hahaha!”

On the ramparts, officials stammered in outrage: “Monstrous… How dare Xie’s army be so arrogant…”

“How dare he humiliate the Emperor and the court like this!”

Returning to his lines, Xie Wuchi handed the bow to an attendant, his gaze turning southward toward Shaoxing across the distant hills.

White mourning banners fluttered over a timber shelter fashioned into a makeshift mortuary, paper wreaths and funerary effigies resting to the side.

Shi Shu approached from the end of the dirt track, holding a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums, laying them softly atop the white shroud. Nearby, Song Sinan was scoring tooth-edged patterns into sheets of yellow joss paper. Shi Shu placed a hand on his shoulder: “Enough, Sinan. That’s enough paper.”

Song Sinan’s eyes were shot through with blood: “I don’t understand why this happened. Why?”

Shi Shu gripped his shoulders, pulling him to his feet. “Come with me. You are a commander now, and there is still a task waiting for you.”

Song Sinan asked, “What is it?”

Shi Shu said, “Ride with me straight to Hedong Academy in Changyang County. The premier library under heaven, housing texts rivaling the imperial archives, with countless treasures and classical compounds. Hurry, we must protect the academy and the entire prefecture of Shaoxing.”

Song Sinan choked out, “What about him?!”

Shi Shu replied, “Once this is settled, we will return together to carry his coffin.”

Song Sinan hurled the iron mallet to the ground, stepping out of the mortuary where a detachment of the Qiu Army waited on horseback.

Shi Shu vaulted into the saddle, cracking the whip as they surged toward Shaoxing Prefecture.

Ruins lined the route, bleached bones lying in the wild with not a rooster’s crow heard for miles. Desolation stretched in every direction. Galloping through the wide-open city gates, they found the houses bolted shut, roofs shattered, watchtowers burned to ash. The garrison-less city had clearly been assaulted.

“Faster!”

Shi Shu’s heart hitched in his throat as he spurred his mount harder, arriving at the base of the grand stone stairway.

The seat of orthodox culture, noble lineages, the cradle of Confucian thought. Hedong Academy, where the chanting of classical verses once echoed through arched courtyards, had become a mountain of corpses and blood.

Shi Shu’s pupils contracted. Down three thousand steps, blood trickled in sluggish streams. Scholars lay butchered across the flags, bodies tossed aside, dignity trampled into the mire.

In a puddle of blood, Shi Shu picked up an abandoned wooden token inscribed with: Inviting all scholars to take shelter at Hedong Academy as wolf-soldiers cross the border.

Vivid scenes played before his eyes: scholars fleeing ravaged provinces with bundles on their backs, shut out by the Eastern Capital, seeking sanctuary here to read, carve poetry, and record history. In war, beyond human lives, there was another thing easily burned away: civilization itself.

Ascending the steps, a body hung from the main portal, spotless white robes drenched in blood, likely a scion of the Xu lineage. Looking upon the carnage, Shi Shu muttered, “It’s him. It has to be Yinkun… He roamed Dajing in his youth, admiring our culture, studying classical rites right here at Hedong Academy. And now…”

“Knowing the Min cause is lost, in his final flight, he still seeks to sever Dajing’s cultural root!”

To destroy a country, first erase its history. To extinguish a people, first erase their letters and customs.

“I know Yinkun! Follow me, do not let him escape again!”

Screams and clashes echoed from within the academy grounds. Just as Shi Shu bounded upward, he suddenly froze. No… I cannot go in…

Drawing his blade, Song Sinan asked, “What’s wrong?”

Shi Shu muttered as if caught in a curse: “Zihan is already dead. I can’t go. I…” Though his lips spoke the words, his legs carried him up the steps, his eyes blurring with tears: “I can’t go, I can’t… What if I die too…”

Terror, raw and unprecedented, threatened to swallow every shred of bravery within him. Tears spilled down his cheeks, his feet feeling too heavy to take another stride forward: “I will die too…”

Song Sinan said, “Stay here if you must. If you fall, the Great General will flay us alive.”

With that, Song Sinan leaped forward with drawn blade, leading his men through the gates in a rush.

Standing frozen, his eyes stinging red, Shi Shu felt the dark dread that had weighed on his chest since the war began.

Enduring the agonizing pull, he forced himself up step by step. Suddenly, several figures clad in white emerged from behind a covered gallery, hauling massive timber casks. Thinking they were scholars, Shi Shu looked closer, only to meet a horrifyingly familiar face.

A pungent, suffocating stench of tung oil, crude petroleum, and black powder hit his senses. The intruders were preparing to bar the doors and burn the entire compound to the ground.

“Stop!”

Shi Shu stumbled over the stone steps, throwing himself forward in a frantic sprint, icy wind burning down his throat like a raging tempest.

Footsteps pounded against his ears.

Fate, through endless choices, forces you to prove who you truly are.

Under a clear sky, an audience sat arrayed outside the command pavilions. Fabric had been strung into a circular enclosure, forming a makeshift arena.

Within the perimeter, captured Min chieftains knelt in the dirt, roped and caked in dust.

Encircling the ring were hundreds of Xie’s troops with drawn blades, adjacent to a colossal pyramid of severed heads. Stepping into the arena, Xie Wuchi’s clean boots brushed against the dirt on the captives’ robes.

Walking at an unhurried pace, an attendant soon reported: “General, the court officials have arrived!”

Xie Wuchi said, “Oh?”

Along a crimson carpet, the civil and military ministers of Dajing approached, draped in crimson and purple court robes, silks adorned with jade pendants, looking noble and proud. They stepped into the ranks with solemn faces, only a few managing to maintain an aloof posture while the rest looked profoundly uneasy.

Leading them was Grand Councilor Fu Wen, holding the missive shot into the city, followed by the rest of the court.

Xie Wuchi glanced at their numbers: “The ones this general requested, why did they not come?”

Fu Wen stepped aside, revealing a dozen bound figures kneeling behind him: “They are here. The Marquis of Anguo, the Marquis of Yiyang, the heir of the Duke of Dingguo, the Vice Commissioner of Military Affairs, the Minister of War, the Vice Minister of War, and the favored eunuchs. These are the treacherous ministers who deceived His Majesty into inviting the wolf-soldiers to oppose General Xie. His Majesty instructed us to deliver them for your disposal.”

Xie Wuchi: “So many men. It seems His Majesty was thoroughly misled. However, those were not the ones I asked for.”

Fu Wen understood his meaning: “General Xie, you push too far.”

Behind him, a haughty official snapped, “His Majesty would never step outside to view this grotesque mound! Xie, you act like a savage beast, but at bottom, you are nothing more than a treasonous rebel.”

Xie Wuchi asked, “If I am a treasonous rebel, why did Lord Zhou step outside to visit my command?”

Caught off guard that Xie recognized him, the man retorted, “You crushed the wolf-soldiers; naturally, I came to observe.”

Xie Wuchi said, “Good. Since you came to view the head-mound and watch polo, please, take your seats.”

Returning to his armchair, Xie Wuchi flicked his hand, and guards shoved the bound officials into the dirt arena like swine.

Moments later, cavalrymen astride warhorses rode into the ring brandishing heavy, spiked bludgeons, as if simulating a game of polo. With a slight nod from Xie Wuchi, the steeds surged into a gallop. Leaning low over the saddles like hunting wolves, the riders brought their spiked clubs crashing down against the heads of the kneeling men.

Skulls shattered, blood and brain matter spraying across the dust as the horsemen roared with laughter: “Hahahaha!”

“What?! This… this is…”

The seated civil ministers recoiled in shuddering horror, shaking like leaves in the wind. Some covered their eyes with trembling hands; others shut their eyes and chanted Buddhist mantras; several fainted dead away; others retched violently against their robes, frozen like statues, daring not draw breath.

Xie Wuchi lifted a cool brow, his expression impassive as frost.

Steeds crisscrossed the ring as agonized screams rose from those still clinging to life.

“Mercy! Great General, spare us, mercy!”

The cries were raw and piercing, wrung out by unendurable torment.

Riding to the far end of the ring, the horses wheeled around. Catching Xie Wuchi’s glance, Ping Yichun galloped back, raising his spiked mace to smash down once more, tearing flesh and severing limbs.

Aside from the laughter of the cavalry, dead silence gripped the assembly.

Lifting his gaze, Xie Wuchi asked, “Gentlemen, how was the polo match? Are you satisfied with the display?”

Several ministers were visibly sick, yet dared not leave their seats, shivering in panic.

Following Xie’s rebellion, Fu Wen had been reinstated while Liu Chenglan had been dismissed to his residence. Clenching his aged hands, Fu Wen’s face paled: “If they committed offenses, the law and military codes should have judged them. To use such butcher’s theater for amusement is far too cruel.”

Xie Wuchi said, “Cruel? Before the northern wolves crossed our passes, I had never witnessed such methods of slaughter for sport. I learned this only from watching them.”

The ministers remained silent, daring not utter a syllable.

“Repaying them with their own methods, turns out it is quite entertaining.”

Xie Wuchi’s brow relaxed, offering a calm smile.

“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Since the culprits who invited the wolves have been executed, gentlemen, please return.” Xie Wuchi rose.

Having prepared to die, the ministers blinked in disbelief: “You are letting us go?”

Xie Wuchi: “Naturally.”

Then, recalling something, Xie Wuchi looked toward Fu Wen: “However, Chancellor Fu, back then you had me exiled three thousand leagues. Please mind your step on the road back, and keep your footing steady.”

Meeting his gaze with aged eyes, Fu Wen answered stiffly, “Thank you, General.”

Xie Wuchi commanded, “Escort them to the city gates.”

“Understood!”

Soldiers escorted the ministers toward the walls. Separated by the moat, Xie Wuchi stood amid his dark host, the wind whipping his robes, as Ping Yichun leaned in: “My Lord, it is prepared.”

Xie Wuchi: “Give me the bow.”

Taking the black Zhe bow, watching the drawbridge lower as the officials scurried toward the portal like men fleeing a plague, Xie Wuchi rested the grip against his jade archer’s ring. Narrowing his eyes, he drew the shaft, aiming straight for the broad purple robe in the crowd.

The string tore through the air. The arrow streaked across the space, driving clean through the back of Fu Wen’s skull, spattering his gray hair with crimson.

Tossing the bow aside, Xie Wuchi vaulted into the saddle as the cavalry behind him surged forward like a rolling black mist.

“Enter the city!”