After returning to the academy, Xiao Youcheng received a court bulletin from the capital. The Crown Prince's health had gradually improved, and he was now able to attend morning court sessions to assist the emperor with official duties.
The two mentors gradually relaxed, becoming less strict with Prince Kang and Lu Chao's studies. Everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction—except for Lu Chao, who remained tense. He couldn't pinpoint the source of his unease, but his intuition had saved him many times since childhood, and this time, he chose to trust it again.
One day, while Lu Chao and Chen Ning'an were working on a design for a repeating crossbow cart, they heard Liu Yao's urgent voice.
"Young masters! Prince Kang requests your presence immediately! There's urgent news from the capital!"
Lu Chao and Chen Ning'an exchanged uneasy glances before setting down their tools and hurrying to the study.
Inside, the two mentors and Prince Kang wore grave expressions, while Xiao Youcheng paced anxiously in circles.
"We've just received urgent word from the capital. The Tartars have betrayed their oath, joining forces with the Rus to ambush our Great Yuan reinforcements!"
Lu Chao's expression tightened.
"What about General Xiao and the fifty thousand soldiers?"
"General Xiao fell in battle. Nearly eighty percent of the troops were killed or wounded."
A suffocating silence filled the room.
"Damn those bastards!" Murong Yun cursed through gritted teeth.
"They played us dirty! We must rally the troops and crush them!"
Lu Chao blurted out the words, knowing that if reinforcements weren't sent immediately, the border civilians would suffer.
Xiao Youcheng shook his head. The letter made no mention of further arrangements. Given that the urgent message had taken at least three to five days to reach them, the northwest was likely already at war.
---
Shuo Zhou
The wilderness stretched vast and yellow, dust swirling under the bleak sky.
Xiao Zheng, covered in blood, turned to glare in the direction of the Tartar lands. Behind him, the surviving soldiers—exhausted from their overnight retreat—wore battered armor stained with dried blood, their movements accompanied by the clatter of broken metal.
"I, Xiao Zheng, swear this oath: If I do not avenge this, I am no man. One day, my warhorse's hooves will trample every inch of Tartar soil!"
"We swear to avenge General Xiao!"
The soldiers' low, grief-stricken roars echoed across the plains, as if mourning the souls of the fallen. Their horses reared, neighing mournfully. Xiao Zheng closed his eyes, wiping away bloody tears.
"All troops, heed my order! Return to camp at full speed!"
The thunder of hooves stirred dust into the air before fading back into silence.
---
A day later, Xiao Zheng and the remnants of his army arrived at the camp near Yanmen's western pass under cover of night.
Though no lanterns were lit, the soldiers stood outside their tents, waiting as if to welcome them home.
Xiao Zheng tossed his reins to a soldier and strode past rows of tents until he reached the only one still illuminated. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees.
The guards wasted no time, lifting the tent flap to announce his arrival. Moments later, the Northwest Marquis emerged, his steps hurried.
The once-imposing war hero now appeared aged—his temples frosted white, shoulders slumped, voice trembling as he spoke.
"Rise."
Xiao Yan, having just thrown on an outer robe after hearing the news, rushed over and froze at the sight of Xiao Zheng kneeling.
"Zheng, where are the others?"
Xiao Zheng looked up at his uncle, eyes red-rimmed, face twisted in anguish. Words failed him.
"Yan, come inside as well."
The tent fell into silence, broken only by the flickering candlelight.
Then, a muffled sob escaped into the night, making the darkness feel even colder.
---
"When we first arrived in Tartar territory, everything seemed normal. The Tartars fought the Rus at the front while we followed behind, ready to retreat if anything went wrong. For four or five days, the Rus forces kept falling back."
"That night, to celebrate the victory, the Tartar Fourth Prince invited us to drink in his tent. Second Uncle refused. But at midnight, the Rus launched a surprise attack. Seeing the Tartar soldiers 'drunk' and collapsed, our men had no choice but to take up arms—only to realize it was a trap. The Tartars had feigned intoxication, turning their blades on our soldiers from behind while hidden ambushes sprang into action. Second Uncle fought his way out, ordering me to bring word back."
"Those animals! Father! Let me lead the remaining troops and slaughter every last one of them!"
Xiao Yan's voice shook as he dropped to one knee, fists clenched.
"Xiao Yan! War is no place for recklessness! How many troops do we have left?"
"Seventy thousand!"
"The Tartars and Rus combined have nearly one hundred twenty thousand. They must have planned this for a long time. Think—if the Tartars and Rus are allied, what’s their next move?"
"Shuo Zhou!"
They spoke in unison.
Against an enemy of one hundred twenty thousand, their seventy thousand stood little chance. The flat terrain of Yanmen Pass made it difficult to defend. Retreating to Shuo Zhou—where another ten thousand garrison troops waited—was their best option. Once the court received the urgent report, reinforcements would come. They only needed to hold out until then. Then, they would repay the Tartars in kind.
"By my order as Northwest Marquis, break camp! We march for Shuo Zhou at once!"
---
Back in his tent, Xiao Zheng was met by Zhang Hu and a few others who had stuck close to him.
"Zheng-ge, are you alright? Take off your armor—we brought a physician. Let him check your wounds!"
Xiao Zheng shook his head. "No need. Just minor injuries. I’ll bandage them myself. Many of the returning brothers are hurt worse—don’t waste time on me."
He turned to gather his belongings.
"Zheng-ge, this letter came from the city. It arrived right after you left, so we held onto it for you."
Zhang Hu pulled a letter from his chest and handed it over. They all knew Xiao Zheng had a close friend who wrote regularly—every couple of months. They used to joke that it was some sweetheart pining for him. But with the heavy losses the northwest army had suffered, no one dared tease him now.
"Thanks. Go pack your things. We leave soon."
Zhang Hu hesitated, concern etched on his face, before stepping out.
Xiao Zheng recognized Lu Chao’s handwriting the moment he saw the envelope.
"Yingge, I hope this letter finds you well. Word has reached me of the conflict between the Tartars and the Rus, and that the Northwest Marquis is leading fifty thousand troops to aid the Tartars. I do not know if you are among them, but remember—war is merciless. Do not let your guard down. Your safety comes first. If you must fight, beware of treachery from the Tartars and Rus. Should the border fall or you face dire straits, seek a woman named Leng Yue at the Everlasting Spring Tavern in Shuo Zhou or Yan Zhou."
The letter ended with "Stay safe," signed Lu Chao.
Xiao Zheng pressed his lips together, heart aching. Too late.
He folded the letter, tucked it back into his chest, then picked up a whetstone and began sharpening his Yanming blade.
Only when the drums sounded did he finally sheath the sword and stand.
Mounted, he trailed at the rear of the army, Zhang Hu and the others keeping a respectful distance.
"What’s wrong with you lot? Why the hell are you staring at me? Want a beating?!"
Xiao Zheng kicked Zhang Hu in annoyance, and Zhang Hu responded with a foolish grin.
"Didn’t see, didn’t see! You know how it is—us brothers always follow your lead out here. When we’re not together, those big idiots start asking questions."
Xiao Zheng pulled a brocade pouch from his chest and tossed it to Zhang Hu. "Got a task for you. Once we reach Shuozhou, deliver this to General Xiao the Third."
Seeing Zhang Hu’s puzzled expression, Xiao Zheng sighed again.
"I don’t have the face to see him."
Zhang Hu fell silent, thinking of General Xiao the Second, who had died at the hands of the Tatars.
"Alright, hold this bag for me. I’m gonna take a leak."
Watching Xiao Zheng’s lonely figure walk away, none of the men followed.
Zhang Hu spat in disgust. "Damn those Tatars! They’ve gone too far! Next time we meet on the battlefield, I swear I’ll dig out their hearts and see if they’re black!"
The others joined in cursing.
"Damn it!! If it weren’t for military orders—no room for disobedience—Xiao Zheng would never have left General Xiao the Second’s body behind!"
"I only took down two of them! Damn it, I wish I’d killed more!"
"Screw their ancestors!"
Zhang Hu listened, then frowned as he stared at the grove where Xiao Zheng had disappeared.
"Shut up! Damn it—you don’t think Xiao Zheng is…?"
Their eyes widened in sudden realization, and they quickly spurred their horses after him—but the grove was empty.
Xiao Zheng patted his chestnut-red horse, then turned resolutely back the way they had come. This horse had been a gift from his second uncle on his ninth birthday.
"Uncle, wait for me! Yingge is coming to bring you home!"
