"The great army marches south, trampling the Great Qian underfoot!"
This roar, which tore through the roof of Helian's royal tent, transformed into a black hawk soaring over the grasslands, flying south across the Yin Mountains, and hurling a bloody, murderous aura straight into the blistering sun of Zhenbei City.
It was a summer afternoon, in the backyard of the deputy general's mansion.
Cicadas screeched in the ancient locust tree, driving people to distraction.
Not a breath of wind stirred.
The air was so stiflingly humid it felt like it could be wrung out, and even the willow branches in the courtyard hung their heads as if feigning death.
He Minghu, bare-chested, revealed a body crisscrossed with old scars, his arms muscles corded like ropes.
He gripped a heavy, pitch-black iron sword with both hands, then suddenly twisted his waist and hips.
The blade whistled with a mournful howl as it viciously struck a thick ironwood post in the courtyard.
Splinters flew everywhere, the ironwood post split open by a terrifyingly deep gash.
He Minghu gritted his teeth, striking blow after blow, venting the pent-up rage accumulated over recent days.
Ever since that girl Xu Qinghuan had entered Zhenbei City wielding the imperial sword of the Imperial Envoy, his life as a Deputy General of the third rank had never been easy.
Military power had been gradually whittled away, his trusted men killed or demoted one by one.
Now, even that crippled wreck Xu Zhan, with only one arm, could lead three hundred elite riders swaggering through the city on patrol.
The more He Minghu thought, the deeper his hatred grew. The heavy iron sword swung even harder, practically trying to cleave that ironwood post to pieces.
The sound of hurried footsteps came from the moon gate.
Ma Jing'an, clad in dark green silk civilian robes, strode swiftly, his usual measured official pace completely abandoned. His triangular eyes darted around, filled with urgency and barely concealed excitement.
"Everyone, withdraw! If anyone dares approach this courtyard without my order, have their legs broken and thrown out of the mansion!"
Ma Jing'an hadn't even stepped into the yard before waving his hands to dismiss the attending servants and maids.
The servants were petrified, too scared even to breathe, scurrying away in an instant.
Ma Jing'an quickly walked to He Minghu's side, still panting heavily.
He Minghu yanked the heavy sword free from the post, glancing sidelong at Ma Jing'an.
"Aren't you supposed to be drinking tea in the front hall to beat the heat, Censor Ma? What's got you scuttling around this martial artist's yard?"
Ma Jing'an didn't reply. He warily scanned the surroundings, ensuring no one was loitering beyond the courtyard walls.
He thrust the paper toward He Minghu, his five fingers slowly uncurling.
"The courier who brought the letter—I've already had him silenced with poison and dumped into the Black River outside the city. This thing is hot; have a look."
He Minghu tossed the heavy iron sword onto the ground.
He wiped the sweat from his face with a careless hand, then took the piece of mulberry paper, thin as a cicada's wing.
One glance, and the flesh on He Minghu's face twitched violently. His brows twisted into a knot of death.
The mulberry paper bore no salutation, no signature, not even polite pleasantries.
Just twelve words, hastily written with an extremely fine brush tip.
"Tides in the wild lands shift, the net tightens. Advance everything."
He Minghu stared at those twelve words, his breathing growing heavier.
Ma Jing'an leaned in, pointing at the handwriting on the paper.
"This is no ordinary letter for communication. This is a death warrant."
Ma Jing'an swallowed, the light in his triangular eyes burning brighter.
"Chen Changfeng went to the capital—you're aware of that. Calculating the travel time, he should even be back by now."
"These twelve words contain no nonsense—a direct kill order."
He Minghu's gaze drifted over the high walls of the deputy general's mansion, toward the capital in the south.
Their eyes met in midair, sharing a tremendously dangerous thought.
Ma Jing'an's tone was utterly certain.
"Chen Changfeng has definitely already met with him."
"This directive must be the highest permission granted directly for him to smash the board and overturn the table!"
He Minghu couldn't help but clap his hands in approval.
"That batch of heavy armor at White Wolf Valley was intercepted by that one-armed cripple Xu Zhan. Who could stomach that?"
He Minghu clenched his fists, murderous intent no longer containable.
"Smuggling military equipment in exchange for warhorses is a crime punishable by execution of the entire clan. Once Xu Qinghuan sends the evidence and living witnesses to the capital, even the high lords won't protect us!"
Ma Jing'an let out a dry chuckle.
"That's exactly why we must reel in the net now. If the Helian army sweeps south at this critical moment, crushing Zhenbei Pass..."
"Then..."
Ma Jing'an grew more excited as he spoke, rubbing his hands together nervously.
"This move—pulling the firewood from under the kettle—is brilliantly played! No matter what happens, we'll take prime credit!"
He Minghu's eyes blazed with near-maniacal fervor.
He stepped forward, draping an arm directly over Ma Jing'an's shoulder, pulling the civil official close.
He Minghu's lips almost touched Ma Jing'an's ear as he murmured rapidly.
In the courtyard, the cicadas' drone rose and fell in waves, drowning their conversation entirely in the stifling heat.
The specific words of their devious plotting couldn't be discerned.
All that could be seen was He Minghu's mouth moving quickly, his facial muscles twisting further, the scar on his face writhing like a centipede.
Ma Jing'an's grim expression initially remained tense, but as he listened, his triangular eyes narrowed gradually, the slits gleaming with a venomous light, like a snake flicking its tongue.
He nodded continuously, the fat on his face bunching together, emitting a strange "cackling" laughter.
"Excellent! What a brilliant scheme! What a first-rate tactic of killing with a borrowed knife! General He, I never guessed you had such a masterstroke!"
Ma Jing'an couldn't help but clap and laugh openly.
"Isn't Xu Qinghuan supposed to be a flawless strategist? Wasn't she the one brandishing the imperial sword of the envoy in Zhenbei City, lording it over everyone and forcing us to the brink?"
"This time, we'll catch the turtle in the jar—let her die without knowing how!"
Ma Jing'an spun half a turn in place, jabbing his finger randomly in the air.
"As soon as the Helian advance vanguard appears, chaos will erupt in the city."
"Then you and I will collude from within and without..."
"As for that cripple Xu Zhan!"
Ma Jing'an snorted coldly, making a downward chopping motion with his left hand.
"Treason, opening city gates to invite in the enemy—I can write petitions from my left hand that will frame him perfectly!"
He Minghu spat on the ground, licked his cracked lips, and bared his teeth like a ferocious beast.
"I will personally lead troops in a charge on the government office. I'll flay that Xu girl alive and hang her head on the city gate tower as a sacrificial banner!"
The two men, each believing themselves masters of the situation, schemed recklessly in this corner of the deputy general's mansion, mapping out the feast of power to come.
They hadn't grasped at all that the Great Prince and Chen Changfeng, a thousand miles away, cared nothing for their survival or demise.
Once the Helian hordes of iron cavalry truly crashed through Zhenbei Pass, both the haughty imperial envoy and the two fools who thought themselves clever insiders would be nothing more than mud crushed beneath the hooves—obliterated.
They walked side by side to a koi pond in a corner of the courtyard.
The water was a murky green, with a few green water lily leaves floating on the surface, painting a picture of wealthy, peaceful summer days.
Ma Jing'an flicked his wrist, tossing the crumpled paper precisely into the center of the pond.
As soon as the paper ball hit the water, it sent out a faint ring of ripples.
A few plump red koi beneath the surface immediately wagged their tails and swarmed over, jostling for position.
They opened their round fish mouths, frantically scrambling and pecking at the paper ball on the water’s surface.
Under their rough tearing, the paper ball quickly unraveled, and the twelve blood-chilling characters dissolved swiftly into the water.
The thick black ink spread on the surface like a clawing shadow, churning the clear pond into a murky mess.
Ma Jin’an and He Minghu looked down at the ink stains on the water and let out a low, dark laugh.
…
At the other end of Zhenbei City, in the rear courtyard of the Imperial Envoy’s residence.
Old Gou spread his legs, braced his lower back, and swung a battered splitting axe in a full arc, bringing it crashing down onto a thick wooden stump.
With a crack, the firewood split in two.
Old Gou pulled out the axe and tossed it beside his foot.
He crouched down, gathered the scattered logs, and stacked them neatly against the base of the wall.
Rubbing his hands together, he brushed the wood chips off his linen short tunic.
He looked up at the blazing sun overhead and wiped the sweat from his face with his rough sleeve.
The chores of chopping wood and hauling water were dirty and exhausting. He’d been at it for a full thirty years in the military compound.
Every day, he had to get up before dawn and be yelled at like a dog.
But now, he felt his hard times were about to end.
Having scraped by for over a decade in Zhenbei City, Old Gou had no other talents, but he’d grown a pair of cunning eyes that could read the wind.
Just half an hour ago, he’d been carrying a basin of washing water past the study in the main yard.
The window was half-open, and fierce arguing was coming from inside.
“There’re only a few fire-thunder jars left! That madman Su Mu keeps demanding saltpeter every day, but the Ordnance Office refuses to approve it no matter what. How are we supposed to fight this war!”
Then came the voice of the Imperial Envoy, Xu Qinghuan, holding back his anger.
“Keep it under wraps for now. Don’t let the men know the arsenal is empty. We’ll wait until the saltpeter from Jiangning is shipped in.”
Old Gou’s hand, clutching the copper basin, had given a violent shiver, splashing warm water onto his cloth shoes.
He quickly lowered his head, held his breath, and crept away.
The fire-thunder jars were depleted!
The Great Qian army’s biggest advantage was gone!
This was the kind of top-secret military intelligence that could determine the survival of the Grassland Khanate!
Old Gou stood up and walked along the covered corridor toward the front yard.
By the gatehouse, the steward was dozing in a lounge chair, holding a tattered palm-leaf fan.
Old Gou stepped closer, making sure to tread heavily.
The steward cracked his eyelids, showing complete impatience.
Old Gou quickly bent down and handed over a wooden tally with both hands, while slipping a dozen copper coins into the steward’s palm, hidden by his sleeve.
“Steward, the kitchen’s short on star anise and coarse salt. The chef’s pushing me to go buy some from East Market Street,” Old Gou said with an ingratiating smile.
“And I’ll pick up two liang of sorghum liquor for you on the way, to help you unwind.”
The steward weighed the coins in his hand, glanced at the tally, and said,
“Go ahead. Come back early. Don’t wander around out there. The city’s been uneasy lately—they’re catching spies everywhere. With your shifty look, don’t go getting yourself mistaken for an informant.”
Old Gou’s heart jumped, but he kept a fawning grin on his face.
“You’re joking, Steward. My family’s been law-abiding Great Qian folk for eight generations. Not even if you gave me ten guts would I dare risk my neck like that. Rest assured, I’ll buy the goods and scoot right back. Won’t hold up your drinking.”
The steward waved his fan impatiently.
“Get out of here.”
