The scorching sun blazed down, leaving the iron cavalry in the training grounds drenched in sweat.
The chilling sound of the Overlord Bow being drawn made one’s skin crawl. Moments later, arrows struck the target three times in succession, the heavy, dull impacts echoing across the field. Xiao Chiye lowered his arm and nocked another arrow.
“The new blades Master wanted have all arrived,” Chenyang said from the side, holding Xiao Chiye’s quiver. “Early this morning, I went with Wuziyu to inspect the shipment. They’re all finely forged weapons from the master craftsmen of the Great Border army.”
Xiao Chiye raised his arm, eyes fixed on the target, and released an arrow—thud—it struck dead center.
Chenyang handed him another arrow. After Xiao Chiye emptied the quiver, he passed over a cloth. Xiao Chiye wiped the sweat from his brow, standing under the blazing sun, and asked, “Has he arrived?”
Chenyang turned to look toward the camp gate. “He should be here by now.”
It was midday. The melted snow of the Sand Second Camp trickled through the drainage ditches, the ground shimmering with heat waves under the sun. Beyond the camp gate stretched an endless expanse of withered yellow grassland. Gujin leaned against the wall, watching a rolling curtain of dust rise on the horizon.
“Open the gate,” the soldiers below shouted. “General Guo is entering the camp!”
As the gate slowly rose, Guo Weilie had already arrived at the campfront with his iron cavalry. When he reined in his horse, he removed his helmet and ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, waiting for the crossing bridge over the ditch to be set up.
An eagle brought by Guo Weilie circled above the camp, hesitant to land. The camp’s own eagle loft erupted into noise, and Mengdu stood atop the watchtower, staring at the newcomers’ birds.
The atmosphere inside the camp shifted. The forbidden army soldiers who had been resting by the walls all stood up, watching the open gate with mixed expressions. Gujin did not move. His eyes met Guo Weilie’s—neither looked away.
It was common knowledge that Guo Weilie and Xiao Chiye did not get along. The incident involving Gujin under the Tuda Dragon Banner had become a thorn between them, and repeated clashes with the forbidden army at Sand Third Camp had only worsened tensions. No one had expected that Xiao Jiming would issue an order transferring him under Xiao Chiye’s command.
Wuziyu stepped out of the tent and stood at a distance, unwilling to get involved.
Guo Weilie’s current commander was Xiao Chiye. That meant whether he could continue going to the battlefield depended entirely on Xiao Chiye’s decision. Gujin was Xiao Chiye’s personal guard; the framing incident could not simply be forgotten. No one knew whether Xiao Chiye would make things difficult for Guo Weilie or reassign him away from the main forces. Either outcome would be bad for the newly rebuilt Second Camp.
The crossing bridge finished lowering. Guo Weilie rode across and entered Sand Second Camp with his men. Gujin descended the steps and stood halfway, watching them come in.
Xiao Chiye did not turn around. He continued drawing arrows with the Overlord Bow, fully focused on the target.
Thud!
Guo Weilie heard the sound of the arrow hitting the target. He held his helmet under one arm and saw the Overlord Bow glinting in the sunlight. After a moment, he dismounted.
Chenyang came forward to receive them. Guo Weilie handed over his identification token. Chenyang checked it briefly and said, “Your original unit cannot be kept. It will be disbanded on the spot. Go to the eastern tents for registration. You’ll be reassigned to available positions.”
“Two days ago, Hasan came,” Guo Weilie said. “The eastern wall of Sand Third Camp collapsed completely. You should report it to the Great Border as soon as possible. That place needs military craftsmen for repairs.”
“Did Hasan bring siege engines?” Chenyang asked while tucking the register under his arm. After Guo Weilie nodded, he turned and shouted to the forbidden troops, “Go call Meng Rui! Bring the craftsmen over.”
Then he looked back at Guo Weilie. “I’ll arrange for the craftsmen to repair the Third Camp wall immediately. You should report military matters to Second Master.”
Guo Weilie pressed his tongue against his broken canine tooth, turned, and faced Xiao Chiye.
Xiao Chiye still did not respond. He seemed entirely absorbed in his bow, as if intent on shooting through the target.
The weather in Northern Li was abnormal that year. It was only mid-March, yet the battlefield felt like late spring or early summer. Guo Weilie, still wearing full armor, stood under the sun sweating heavily; his under-robe was soaked through and clung to his skin, making him increasingly irritable.
He wiped his face and suddenly shouted, “Sand Third Camp’s Guo Weilie reports military matters to Second Master!”
Xiao Chiye finally lowered his bow. The last arrow did not fly.
“Four days ago, Hasan launched a surprise attack on Third Camp. The right-wing cavalry was wiped out, and the eastern sector suffered heavy losses,” Guo Weilie said, stepping back. “That is all I am relaying on behalf of the Left General.”
After speaking, he turned to leave without waiting for a response.
If Xiao Chiye truly wanted to make things difficult for him, Guo Weilie would accept it. He had nothing more to say—so long as he could—
Before he could finish the thought, an arrow suddenly whistled past his ear. The sharp edge of it brushed so close that he could clearly feel the killing intent. It embedded itself into a nearby pillar. If he had walked any faster, it would have been his head.
“Damn it!”
Guo Weilie spun around instantly, face dark. “Second Master, if you want to kill me, just say it directly!”
Xiao Chiye stood with the Overlord Bow in hand, expression cold. “So you know I want to kill you?”
“Guo Weilie, last year when Gujin escorted grain to the frontline, he was ambushed near the Tuda Dragon Banner. He fought his way back through the swamp to the garrison camp. You covered up the internal inspection team’s actions, tied him up without distinction, stripped him of his rank, and framed him for colluding with the border Sand cavalry—shouldn’t I kill you for all this?”
Gujin took the arm guard and walked down the steps.
Everyone knew Guo Weilie’s framing of Gujin was done for Xiao Jiming. But Xiao Chiye had given him a publicly defensible reason—this meant he was going to deal with him.
Guo Weilie threw down his helmet. “Fine, I did it. Kill me or—”
Gujin came up from behind, grabbed his collar, and before he could react, knocked him to the ground with a punch.
The strike was brutal. Guo Weilie felt even his remaining canine tooth begin to loosen. He spat out blood and cursed, “Fuck!”
Gujin did not wait for him to get up. He kicked him hard in the chest. Guo Weilie rolled across the ground, face scraped with yellow sand. He wiped his face violently, but Gujin grabbed him again and slammed him down once more with an elbow strike.
Guo Weilie felt his cheekbone might have cracked, but from beginning to end, he did not fight back—letting Gujin beat him until his mouth filled with the taste of blood.
“This is what you owe me,” Gujin said, breathing slightly uneven as he removed his arm guard and threw it down beside him. “It’s settled now.”
Not only Guo Weilie, even Wuziyu standing far away was stunned.
Guo Weilie struggled up, spat out the blood, and swayed to his feet. Chenyang tossed him his helmet. His head still felt dazed.
Just like that… it was over?
He had nearly beaten Gujin to death.
Gujin stepped back and said, “From today on, our personal grievances are settled. If there’s anything, speak openly. You are Second Master’s soldier, I am Second Master’s guard. From now on, when we leave Second Camp, we are brothers standing back-to-back. Until this war ends, we go our separate ways afterward.”
The scene everyone expected did not happen. Northern Li’s morale had been low that year. Gujin, as Xiao Chiye’s close guard, refused to let his master lose the loyalty of Third Camp over this matter. Xiao Chiye had given Gujin authority to handle it, and Gujin chose this method because he was an upright man who would not resort to underhanded tricks.
Guo Weilie had thought he would at least be injured if not killed today, but Gujin’s magnanimity made him feel suddenly inferior. He rubbed the swelling on his face, somewhat unwilling, yet also faintly impressed.
A true man endures humiliation.
Guo Weilie usually drank heavily and fought fiercely, proud of being a real man among men, never easily admitting defeat. Yet Gujin, after suffering such disgrace under the Tuda Dragon Banner, could resolve matters this way—preventing punishment for Guo Weilie while also stabilizing Third Camp’s morale for Xiao Chiye. Gujin was Xiao Chiye’s face; by doing this, he had shown both public and private righteousness. Guo Weilie had to admit it.
Xiao Chiye raised his arm and steadied Meng. In the wind, he recalled his father’s final words before departure. Since Gujin had gone this far, it was all for Xiao Chiye’s smoother path—he was telling everyone in the battlefield:
Second Master is not someone who rejects capable men.
At night, Guo Weilie sat by the campfire drying rations. His face was bruised and swollen. Wuziyu sat opposite him with a bowl, glancing at him.
“There’s food in the camp,” Wuziyu said, snatching his dry ration away. “Why are you squatting here eating this?”
“Mind your own damn business,” Guo Weilie snapped, hiding his hand awkwardly.
“Too embarrassed to go ask for food?” Wuziyu said while eating. “Gujin already said it’s over.”
Guo Weilie poked the fire with a stick.
Across the way, the forbidden soldiers were laughing and playing loudly.
After a long silence, Guo Weilie asked, “Second Master killed the Endzhou scorpion at the Tea Stone Sinkhole?”
“Outnumbered victory,” Wuziyu replied, gesturing with his fingers.
Guo Weilie scoffed. “The main force was the forbidden army, right?”
“Bullshit, how many of them even went?” Wuziyu shot back. “Be reasonable. What’s wrong with Second Master? Sand Third Camp was taken back by him. He cut down the Hu and Lu you fought half your life against, and now he killed the Endzhou scorpion too. Even after Gujin’s incident, he still kept you. That’s magnanimity—you’d better stop being ungrateful.”
Guo Weilie jabbed the fire so hard sparks flew. He pointed the smoking stick at Wuziyu.
Wuziyu was not afraid of him. In the past he had been an escort soldier, always a head shorter and forced to endure. Things were different now—Endzhou had been taken back by him. Even if Xiao Chiye’s strategy had helped, he had still won it.
“This year there hasn’t been a proper victory. You’ve faced Hasan, and our iron cavalry is worse off than even the border garrison troops,” Wuziyu said, putting down his chopsticks. “Can you beat the scorpion? No. Can Chaohui? No. Then isn’t it better to follow Second Master?”
“I am following Second Master!” Guo Weilie snapped. “What more do you want from me? Should I be running behind his ass? How the hell did the iron cavalry avoid the warhammer?”
“Brilliant,” Wuziyu gave him a thumbs-up. “Figure it out yourself.”
When Wuziyu left, Guo Weilie waited until he was swallowed by the night before suddenly standing up and shouting, “My food!”
But Wuziyu was already gone.
Xiao Chiye was examining newly delivered blades under candlelight. The elongated, sharpened weapons would require the Northern Li iron cavalry to adapt. He studied formations in the Second Camp while turning over what he had gained at the Tea Stone Sinkhole.
Chenyang and Gujin entered the tent. Xiao Chiye caught a faint scent of milk.
“Master, a letter from the Duke arrived with the supplies,” Chenyang placed it on the small table beside him. “The Endzhou horse ranch is taking shape. The Zhongbo horse road is progressing too quickly—it will be connected by the end of April.”
Shen Zeyuan was practically pouring money into it; of course it would be fast.
Xiao Chiye thought of this and then of Ju City. He sheathed his blade and, while drinking milk tea, opened Shen Zeyuan’s letter with one hand.
“Master Yideng is in Hezhou…” Xiao Chiye paused, looking at Gujin. “Why would Master Yideng be in Hezhou?”
Gujin, draped in a new robe, thought for a moment and shook his head. “How could Master Yideng be in Hezhou? Master, he originally took ordination there. In recent years he has only wandered near Northern Li.”
“That’s strange,” Xiao Chiye said coldly. “I searched everywhere and still couldn’t find him, yet he ended up in Yan Heru’s hands.”
Chenyang cleared the empty bowl. “Yan Heru is cowardly and greedy. Zhongbo was in chaos last year—he probably sought the Master for protection…”
His voice trailed off. The tent fell silent.
Xiao Chiye had been searching for Master Yideng since June of last year. If Yan Heru had known of his whereabouts all along, why had he remained silent until now?
“I’ll stay in Second Camp for the next few days,” Xiao Chiye folded the letter. “Gujin, ride south tonight to Endzhou and guard the Duke. If Master Yideng arrives smoothly, you return. If he does not…”
His eyes turned dark.
Yan Heru sneezed several times in a row, rubbing his nose until it turned red. He sat watching Yao Wenyu write.
“Sir Yao’s handwriting is like a soaring hawk or leaping rabbit—bold and…” Yan Heru paused, then smiled at him.
“Sir, want some melon seeds? Sitting here must be boring. When will the Duke finish his official matters? He’s busy every day—he must take care of his health. But since Master Yideng is already on the way, he should arrive in a few days. Then we can ask him to check the Sir’s legs—surely he’ll be able to make you stand again.”
Yao Wenyu ruined a stroke in his writing but showed no anger, only regret as he looked at the paper.
Yan Heru studied his expression, then leaned on the table and said, “Sir, do you hate Xue Yanqing for what happened? He’s truly wicked. Why not join me and set a trap? We can kill him in chaos and hang his corpse in Ju City for days to relieve your hatred.”
Yao Wenyu frowned slightly and set down his brush. “That would harm one’s moral integrity.”
Yan Heru nodded knowingly. “Scholars care about that. But for businessmen like us, there’s no such concern. If you don’t take revenge, you’re foolish. The more ruthless you are, the more satisfying it is.”
Yao Wenyu felt there was an implication in his words and was about to respond.
Yan Heru suddenly raised a finger and softly said, “Shh.”
The room fell silent. Footsteps outside the courtyard became especially clear. Shen Zeyuan seemed to have gone out from the main hall and was standing under the eaves listening to a report.
Qiao Tianya, who had been standing nearby, changed expression. “It overturned?”
“It overturned!” the messenger wiped his sweat. “My lord, the carriage got stuck outside Tezhou. Luo Mu didn’t even have time to send people to receive it—it already overturned!”
Fei Sheng stepped forward urgently. “Where is the Master?”
Yan Heru covered his mouth, his eyes rolling slightly. He said to Yao Wenyu with feigned regret, “Heaven is witness, this has nothing to do with me. I’ve just been sitting here with you and the Duke.”
His deer-like eyes were harmless—yet inside them flickered malice.
“This is bad,” he murmured.