Pei Ying froze mid-turn, surprised that her return had been noticed—this man truly had the ears of a dog.
What did their affairs have to do with her?
The only relief was that the courtyard wall blocked Cheng Chanyi’s line of sight, leaving only Huo Tingshan able to see her.
In an instant, Pei Ying made her decision. She lifted her skirts and fled.
By the time Cheng Chanyi approached, the courtyard entrance was empty—not a soul in sight, not even a bird.
Clearly, no one was there.
He had gone so far as to fabricate such an excuse just to reject her.
Heartbroken, Cheng Chanyi turned to Huo Tingshan, only to find the man’s expression dark. She had been ready to shed more tears, but under his stormy gaze, they dried up before they could fall.
"Brother Junze…" she murmured softly.
The man before her acted as if he hadn’t heard, striding past her without a word.
Pei Ying returned to her daughter’s courtyard and stayed there the entire afternoon, deliberately lingering through dinner until night had fully fallen before finally lighting a lantern and heading back to the main residence.
Winter nights came swiftly, the clear sky studded with stars that glittered like gemstones embedded in an oil painting.
She had just removed her fur cloak upon entering her chambers when a knock sounded at the door.
Knock. Knock.
Two firm raps. Pei Ying paused, already knowing who stood outside.
She had no intention of answering, but Xin Jin had stepped out earlier, leaving the door unlocked. The knocking seemed less a request for entry and more a courtesy—a warning that he was coming in regardless.
Creak. The door swung open.
Candlelight spilled from the room, casting a long shadow across the courtyard.
Huo Tingshan stepped inside and found Pei Ying seated on the cushioned bench by the window.
A silver-charcoal brazier warmed the room, and the beautiful woman, having shed her heavy white mink cloak, wore only a thin ruqun.
The pale skirt, embroidered with auspicious cloud patterns, fanned lightly over the bench as if she were sitting atop the clouds themselves. She hadn’t bothered with elaborate hairstyling today, merely tying her dark tresses with two ribbons, leaving most of her hair cascading over her shoulders. A few strands clung to her fair cheeks, lending her a more relaxed air than when she dressed formally for banquets.
"Why did you run off today, my lady?" Huo Tingshan asked as he approached.
Pei Ying found the question absurd. "I had no wish to involve myself in your affairs with Madam Cheng."
A former fiancée—a woman he had nearly married.
Though Cheng Chanyi had later chosen to marry into a princely household, securing a loftier status than the Huo family could offer, Huo Tingshan might still harbor some resentment. But with their shared childhood history and the shadow of their almost-marriage, Pei Ying deemed it wiser to remain invisible.
If the two ever reconciled, that Madam Cheng would surely come demanding retribution.
Huo Tingshan scoffed. "Fifteen years have passed. Whatever entanglement existed has long since scattered like smoke. What ‘affairs’ could there possibly be?"
Pei Ying glanced at him but said nothing.
Her skeptical look only amused him further. "Do you truly think me so desperate?"
Had he not met Pei Ying in Beichuan County, Cheng Chanyi might still have been considered a rare beauty. But now, standing beside her, Cheng Chanyi paled in comparison.
He wasn’t some common courtesan who took any patron who could pay.
Pei Ying gave him another look and still held her tongue.
She wouldn’t judge his desperation, but she knew there was no point discussing such matters with men of this era.
Raised in a feudal society, their upbringing and ingrained beliefs were worlds apart from hers. It was a chasm of ideology, a divide spanning millennia—not something easily bridged.
Since words were futile, silence was better.
Sometimes, Huo Tingshan thought those expressive eyes of hers were more trouble than they were worth. They had a way of igniting his temper like nothing else.
For a moment, he wondered if the battlefield wouldn’t claim his life—but she just might, by driving him to an early grave.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his irritation to subside, and decided to change the subject. "My lady, I depart for war tomorrow. The campaign will last five or six days at the shortest, half a month at most. Once the territory is taken, I’ll send for you."
Pei Ying considered this briefly before offering, "May victory be yours."
Huo Tingshan’s expression softened slightly.
Good. At least she knew when to say something pleasant.
He continued, "Three days after my departure, the Cheng family will send someone to fetch her back to Youzhou. You’ll receive them in my stead."
This time, Pei Ying was genuinely surprised. "You arranged for them to come?"
When Cheng Chanyi had first stayed under the pretense of recuperation, then spent her days lingering in the main residence without ever mentioning departure, Pei Ying had guessed her plan—to delay until Huo Tingshan relented, or until something happened between them, allowing her to stay permanently.
But he never expected Huo Tingshan to take the initiative to contact the Cheng family. Calculating the time it would take to reach Yuanshan County, he must have sent a messenger back to Youzhou on the very day Cheng Chanyi arrived.
"Why so surprised, my lady?" Huo Tingshan furrowed his thick brows. Seeing Pei Ying about to speak, he cut her off, "Enough. Best you don’t say anything—I doubt your words will be pleasant to hear."
Cheng Chanyi had married into the Jiang princely household back then. The old Prince Jiang’s lineage was vast, his inner quarters teeming with concubines and endless scheming.
Having lived in such a place for fifteen years, Cheng Chanyi must have mastered the ruthless tactics of inner court struggles—her hands might even be stained with a few lives.
He never underestimated a woman’s cunning within the household. If the outside world belonged to men, the inner chambers were a battlefield for women.
But Pei Ying was like a timid rabbit, always shrinking from conflict. The little wit she possessed—and where she chose to use it—he knew all too well. If left alone with Cheng Chanyi for long, she’d likely be devoured without even realizing how she’d been outmaneuvered.
Just as Pei Ying was about to roll her eyes, a large hand covered them.
"Much better this way," Huo Tingshan remarked. Then he added, "While I’m away on campaign, you and our daughter are not to leave the estate. The outside is unsettled. If anything arises, summon Chen Wei or Chen Yang..."
He paused. "I’ll have them report to you tomorrow so you recognize their faces."
Pei Ying tried to push his hand away, but it remained stubbornly fixed over her eyes. "Huo Tingshan, remove your hand."
He ignored her. "I’ve had plum blossoms brought from the manors of some minor nobles. They’ll be planted in the rear garden tomorrow. If you grow restless, you may admire them for now. Once things stabilize, I’ll take you elsewhere."
Pei Ying’s fingers stilled mid-tug. Twice now, he had insisted she not leave the estate. "Has the situation outside grown so dire?"
Huo Tingshan confirmed it.
In truth, it wasn’t yet critical—his greater concern was scouts from Sizhou returning.
Last time, Pei Huizhou had intercepted them. But now that her elder brother had returned to Bingzhou, if she were kidnapped while he was at war, his focus on the battlefield would shatter.
Pei Ying took his answer at face value, assuming the worst.
She had wandered Yuanshan County before, and with the cold weather, there was no pressing need to venture out. Staying in wasn’t so bad.
"Understood," she said.
The next moment, light returned to her vision.
The hand that had shielded her eyes moved upward, lightly patting her head. "Good. Rest well, my lady."
Pei Ying blinked, watching wide-eyed as he strode out—without even closing the door behind him.
Huo Tingshan had told Pei Ying he would depart the next day, but by midnight, he was already leading a contingent of guards on the move. They rode hard through the night, racing from Yuanshan County to the border of Jizhou.
Their current location was Zhongshan Province, facing Yanmen County across the Bingzhou border.
And Yanmen was precisely where Huo Tingshan intended to strike.
"General!"
"General!"
As Huo Tingshan entered the command tent, the assembled officers saluted.
Gone were the casual robes of Yuanshan—now he wore black armor, a ring-pommeled sword at his waist, and iron vambraces clasped around his wrists.
A massive goatskin map hung from a wooden frame at the tent’s center, its surface etched with mountains, rivers, and the outlines of provinces and counties.
"Yanmen must fall before Sizhou’s reinforcements merge with Bingzhou’s forces," Huo Tingshan declared, standing before the map.
Recent intelligence confirmed Sizhou’s army was marching north to aid Bingzhou. Once united, their combined strength would be formidable.
Before that alliance could solidify, he needed to cripple Bingzhou’s defenses—both to intimidate the approaching Sizhou troops and to throw Bingzhou into disarray.
Yanmen County was his chosen point of attack.
Compared to other fortified routes with grain supply lines, this entry into Bingzhou was relatively flat. Yet beyond Yanmen lay treacherous terrain—a calculated risk of easing in before facing the harder climb.
Regardless, crossing into Bingzhou was essential. Merely breaching the provincial border would galvanize morale.
He needed an initial victory.
"Chen Yuan, are the preparations complete?" Huo Tingshan asked.
Chen Yuan nodded. "Reporting, General. All four hundred kites are ready."
"Good." Huo Tingshan studied the map. "We march at noon tomorrow. I will lead this assault myself."
At this, Ke Zuo’s eyebrow twitched.
Unless his sources were mistaken, the General of Youzhou had only returned to camp at dawn. With barely three hours until noon, rest was impossible.
To fight after a sleepless day and night—was this recklessness or sheer arrogance?
After assigning tasks to the various generals, Huo Tingshan finally turned his gaze to Ke Zuo. "Master Ke, there is one matter I must entrust to you."
Ke Zuo immediately adopted an attentive posture.
Huo Tingshan smiled. "I would like you to send a letter to Shi Lianhu, informing him that our Youzhou army has enlisted the aid of a mountain deity."
Ke Zuo, who had somehow acquired a feather fan earlier, stopped fanning himself upon hearing these words.
His face paled with unease. "Great General, ever since I left Shi Lianhu's service, I have had no further contact with him."
Huo Tingshan's tone carried a deeper meaning. "No contact can be reestablished. Master Ke, this is the only request I have for you at present."
Between clever men, some things need not be spoken outright. A single glance was enough for Ke Zuo to understand—this was Huo Tingshan's test for him.
If he truly wished to join the Youzhou army's strategists, he had no choice but to comply. Otherwise, the door would remain shut. Conversely, once he did this, there would be no returning to Bingzhou's side.
After a brief pause, Ke Zuo suddenly smiled. "As the Great General commands."
...
A letter was swiftly dispatched, arriving at Yanmen before noon.
Shi Lianhu, Governor of Bingzhou and supreme commander of its forces, had already left the governor's residence and stationed himself in Yanmen.
"Lord Shi, a messenger from the guard troops claims to have a letter from Ke Quanshui," reported a Bingzhou soldier.
Shi Lianhu was first startled, then ordered the guards to bring the letter at once. Upon reading it, his expression turned peculiar.
His deputy asked, "Lord Shi, what does Ke Quanshui's letter say?"
"Nonsense," Shi Lianhu scoffed. "When this Ke Quanshui first volunteered to be a spy, I already had my doubts. Hah, after more than a year by my side, he remains untrustworthy."
The deputy took the letter and read:
The Youzhou army has gained the assistance of a mountain deity. I advise Lord Shi to proceed with caution in this battle.
"A mountain deity? If such a thing existed, why wait until now to aid Youzhou?" Shi Lianhu sneered.
The deputy nodded. "Lord Shi speaks wisely."
When Ke Zuo had first defected to Bingzhou, many in the army had scorned him for serving three masters. Now that he had "betrayed" them again, the deputy couldn't help feeling a twisted sense of vindication.
See? I always said he couldn’t be trusted. Now everyone will know I was right.
At noon, the Youzhou army began its march.
The massive war banner unfurled in the wind, the black fabric emblazoned with the character "You" seeming to come alive, like a ferocious beast baring its fangs.
Yanmen Commandery was not a terrain easily defended, so the moment scouts reported the enemy's approach, Shi Lianhu personally led his troops out of the city.
Ancient traditions held that black banners symbolized the Water element, representing the north. Thus, Bingzhou's banner was also black—the only difference being the character upon it.
The imposing "Bing" fluttered as Shi Lianhu gave the order, and the army surged forward.
Zhongshan Kingdom and Yanmen Commandery were not far apart. By mid-afternoon, the two forces met.
The last time Shi Lianhu had seen Huo Tingshan was fifteen years ago.
Back then, Huo Tingshan had just come of age, traveling to Chang'an as the son of the Youzhou Governor to receive his title. At the time, he still carried traces of youthful vigor. Now, after more than a decade…
Shi Lianhu stared at the towering figure astride a black warhorse in the distance, an overwhelming sense of dread rising in his chest.
Huo Tingshan wore a tiger-crested helmet and black armor, his ring-pommel sword already drawn. His steed, Wu Ye, stood taller than ordinary horses, and as he positioned himself beneath the Youzhou banner, he seemed to merge with its imposing presence.
War horns blared, drums thundered.
Amid the deafening battle cries, the Youzhou soldiers roared in unison:
"The mountain god aids Youzhou!"
"The mountain god aids Youzhou!"
Arrows darkened the sky as soldiers surged forward, formations shifting.
Beside Huo Tingshan stood a flag-bearer, swiftly relaying his commands through the interplay of signal flags.
When the rain of arrows ceased, the cavalry charged.
Xiong Mao, clad in full armor, raised his long saber and led the charge toward the Bingzhou forces.
His cavalrymen followed without hesitation.
The Youzhou riders advanced with terrifying momentum, met by Bingzhou's own cavalry. Having missed the earlier battle between Youzhou and Sizhou, where cavalry had decimated infantry, Bingzhou had been unaware of stirrups and high-cantled saddles.
Only later, when Sizhou and Bingzhou formed an alliance, did Li Sizhou send someone to deliver stirrups. Shi Lianhu had immediately ordered their mass production.
But time was short.
Only a small batch of stirrups and saddles had been forged, leaving them at a disadvantage against the fully equipped Youzhou riders.
Horses screamed, iron shields clashed with blades in resounding strikes, war drums beat faster, and the battlefield drowned in the roar of combat.
The Youzhou forces not only shouted "Kill!" but also periodically roared, "Mountain God, aid our Youzhou!" Initially, the Bingzhou soldiers were startled, but when nothing happened, they gradually relaxed.
"Fetch my longbow," Huo Tingshan said as he sheathed his ring-pommeled sword and turned to his guards.
The guard obeyed swiftly, hauling over a massive bow.
Seated atop his steed, Wu Ye, Huo Tingshan took the bow from the guard's shoulder with one hand and then reached for a long arrow.
The six-stone heavy bow, which usually required two men to draw, seemed weightless in Huo Tingshan's grip.
With one hand steadying the bow and the other nocking the arrow, he pulled the string taut, bending the massive weapon into a perfect crescent moon.
The veins on the back of his hand bulged, each pulse of his sinews radiating raw power.
Huo Tingshan's narrowed black eyes remained icy and unreadable as he fixed his gaze on a distant target.
Not far away, Shi Lianhu's deputy noticed Huo Tingshan drawing his bow and paled. "Commander Shi, take cover—Huo Tingshan is about to shoot!"
Shi Lianhu had heard tales of Huo Tingshan's prowess with the heavy bow. During the battle between Youzhou forces and the Xiongnu's Left Virtuous King, it was said that Huo Tingshan had pierced the king's chest from a hundred paces away.
Not daring to underestimate him, Shi Lianhu immediately called for his guards to raise their shields.
Almost simultaneously, Huo Tingshan released the string.
"Whoosh—!"
The arrow tore through the air with a chilling whistle, carving a sharp arc of light as it hurtled toward the Bingzhou army.
Shi Lianhu heard someone shout that Huo Tingshan had loosed his arrow. Seeing the shield in front of him intact, he sneered inwardly—had Huo Tingshan missed?
But the next moment, his deputy cried out in alarm:
"Disaster! The banner is about to fall!"
Shi Lianhu's heart clenched. He whipped his head around to see the towering army banner behind him.
The wooden pole supporting it had been split by the arrow, and the massive standard was now tilting precariously to one side.
"Hold up the banner!" Shi Lianhu roared, his eyes bulging with fury.
Xiong Mao, who had already plunged deep into enemy lines, bellowed, "The Bingzhou banner has fallen!"
His thunderous voice carried far across the battlefield.
The Bingzhou soldiers, locked in combat with Youzhou troops, faltered. Some glanced back in panic, only to see the once-proud "Bing" banner collapsing, its former majesty gone.
Huo Tingshan handed the bow back to his guard and drew his ring-pommeled sword. "Men, follow me—charge!"
Typically, a commander would not join the fray unless morale was either dangerously low or soaring for a decisive push.
At Huo Tingshan's command, the Youzhou army's spirits surged.
"Kill!"
"Kill!"
Wu Ye snorted and surged forward.
With their banner down, the Bingzhou forces' morale crumbled. Huo Tingshan's personal charge sent the Youzhou army sweeping forward like a tidal wave of steel and fury.
Shi Lianhu knew the situation was dire. He hastily ordered a retreat, pulling his men back step by step until they reached the safety of Yanmen's rear defenses.
The Youzhou army pursued them all the way to the pass, but as the terrain grew treacherous and the sun dipped below the horizon, their advance slowed.
"General, they've holed up behind the gates," Xiong Mao grumbled.
Huo Tingshan flicked his sword casually, splattering a line of blood droplets across the ground. "Would you rather they come out and get slaughtered?"
Xiong Mao choked back a retort.
Huo Tingshan continued, "Pass my orders: rest and regroup. We move at the first watch of Yin."
Xiong Mao bowed. "Understood."
Shi Lianhu led his battered troops back into Yanmen in disgrace.
His deputy fumed, "If only Li Sizhou hadn't kept the stirrups a secret until the last moment! We lost too many men today against Youzhou's cavalry."
Though the Youzhou army was formidable, voicing such demoralizing thoughts was unwise.
Shi Lianhu pinched the bridge of his nose. "We suffered a minor defeat this afternoon. They’ll likely press their advantage. Guard the pass tonight—if Yanmen falls, there are few strongholds left to stop them."
"Understood."
...
The moon hid behind thick clouds as the night deepened. The hour of Yin was when exhaustion weighed heaviest, especially after the day's battle.
A sentry yawned. "Dawn’s only a couple of watches away. Seems like a quiet night."
"Night battles are too risky. They won’t come," his companion agreed.
But the moment the words left his mouth, a distant roar erupted:
"Mountain God, aid our Youzhou!"
"Mountain God, aid our Youzhou!"
The two guards jolted awake, alarm bells ringing in their minds. Just as they turned to sound the alarm, an eerie noise reached their ears—a rhythmic tapping, like wooden planks knocking together, or perhaps the whispering chant of mountain winds.
The sound came from everywhere and nowhere, enveloping them like an inescapable net. Yet behind them lay the mountains, and they had heard nothing amiss until now. How had the Youzhou army slipped past?
"Mountain God, aid our Youzhou!"
The relentless chant of devotion and triumph never ceased.
The Bingzhou sentries turned ashen. "G-Go! Warn the others!"
The remaining Bingzhou soldiers jolted awake in the night, hearing the eerie sounds echoing from all directions. Their hearts pounded with terror.
"Could they have truly summoned the mountain god?"
"The mountain god has descended?"
"Prepare—prepare for battle! Stand ready… to face the enemy!"
Shi Lianhu woke from his slumber to the sound of chaos outside. "What's happening?" he demanded.
A guard rushed in. "Lord Shi, the Youzhou army has invoked the mountain god!"
"Nonsense! What mountain god?" Shi Lianhu snapped.
But no sooner had he spoken than strange noises reached his ears—like the howl of mountain winds, the rustling of trees, or the murmurs of chanting voices.
His pupils constricted. "What is this?" he barked at the soldiers.
Yet the guards could only repeat, "The mountain god has come."
"Lord Shi, the pass has fallen! Retreat at once!" a deputy general urged as he hurried in.
Shi Lianhu was stunned. "The pass has fallen? So quickly? Impossible!"
The deputy kept his head low. "The Youzhou army used some sorcery—unnatural sounds filled the air. Our men, even some officers, believed the mountain god had appeared… They barely resisted."
Shi Lianhu nearly choked on his fury.
Fools! Absolute fools!
There was no mountain god—this was Huo Tingshan's trickery!
"Lord Shi, we must go now, or it'll be too late!" the deputy pressed.
Gritting his teeth, Shi Lianhu swallowed his rage and doubts. "Move out!"
With the pass breached, the Youzhou soldiers surged forward like wolves, weapons in hand, their bloodlust at its peak.
Huo Tingshan turned to Chen Yuan. "Gather the kites and assist Xiong Mao in clearing the battlefield."
Chen Yuan clasped his hands in acknowledgment and led soldiers to retrieve the kites hidden in the mountains.
The "mountain god's voice" that had terrified the Bingzhou troops? Merely kites with thin bamboo strips. When lifted by the wind, the strips had produced the haunting forest whispers.
"Qin Yang, Sha Ying—with me. We hunt Shi Lianhu," Huo Tingshan commanded.
The two men eagerly obeyed.
Beyond this pass lay no more natural defenses, leaving Shi Lianhu desperate.
Huo Tingshan pursued with cavalry, employing the "starving wolf" tactic—harrying, attacking, then withdrawing, slowly whittling down the fleeing Bingzhou forces.
For two days, Shi Lianhu fled, disheveled and exhausted—until his deputy cried, "Reinforcements approach!"
Shi Lianhu nearly wept with relief. "At last!"
But Huo Tingshan, too, received word of the approaching Bingzhou army.
The general nocked an arrow, drew his bow, and fixed his dark, fathomless gaze on the figure ahead.
One breath. Two.
He released.
The arrow struck true.
Amid the Bingzhou officers' shouts, Shi Lianhu coughed blood and toppled from his horse.
"General, he—" Sha Ying hesitated, watching the chaos unfold.
Huo Tingshan gave him a sidelong glance.
Qin Yang smirked. "Relax. If the general didn’t mean to kill him instantly, even the King of Hell wouldn’t dare take him yet."
Shi Lianhu was, after all, the Bingzhou governor. An outright execution would stir trouble—but a wound that festered? That was another matter.
"Fall back," Huo Tingshan ordered, slinging his bow away.
By their return to Yanmen County, the battlefield had been cleared, the air thick with celebration.
Huo Tingshan addressed Chen Yuan. "Assemble a guard. Fetch my lady from Yuanshan County."
Chen Yuan bowed.
But as Huo Tingshan entered his chambers to shed his armor, his hand stilled mid-motion.
Beside his robes lay a blue silk pouch. He stared at it, silent.
Chen Yuan had just mounted up when Huo Tingshan emerged again.
"General?" Chen Yuan blinked.
Huo Tingshan ignored his usual steed, calling for another. "Stay. I’ll retrieve her myself."
Chen Yuan gaped.
Yuanshan County, Governor’s Manor.
After Huo Tingshan’s departure, Cheng Chanyi no longer visited the main courtyard. True to his word to Pei Ying, three days later, the Cheng family arrived and took her away.
Pei Ying’s life settled back into tranquility.
Today marked the second day since Cheng Chanyi’s departure—the fifth since Huo Tingshan had gone to war. After sharing a hotpot dinner in her daughter’s courtyard, Pei Ying strolled leisurely back to the main residence, planning to finish the last pages of her travelogue before bed.
The courtyard was still, devoid of servants. Pushing the door open, Pei Ying found the room already shrouded in darkness—night fell earlier now.
And in that darkness stood a tall, shadowed figure.
Her heart skipped. She nearly cried out—until a deep, familiar voice rumbled, "My lady."
Pei Ying inhaled sharply, then exhaled slowly, steadying her pulse.
"General?" Her voice wavered slightly.
Huo Tingshan saw her standing at the door, suspicion written all over her face, and simply strode toward her. "Who else could it be but me?"
Step by step, he closed the distance, but just as he was about to reach her, the elegant woman took two steps back, pulling out a handkerchief to cover her nose.
"General, how many days has it been since you last bathed?" Her tone dripped with undisguised disdain.
A vein pulsed on Huo Tingshan’s forehead.
She was going to be the death of him.
