Two days later, the Buddha’s Son came back. As for what he had experienced over there and whether he had been given a hard time, he said nothing. He only told everyone one thing: the Kumo Xi people had agreed. In addition, the Gaoche also had intentions to retreat, while the Rouran’s attitude remained unclear, perhaps they wanted to play both sides.

Everyone: “…”

Diplomacy between nations was obviously a serious and difficult matter, yet when it came out of the Buddha’s Son’s mouth, it sounded as simple as discussing what to eat that night.

Qu Yunmie didn’t think too much. He only sneered coldly at the Rouran’s attitude. “I must kill the Xianbei and the Rouran as well.”

After all, it had been the Rouran who shot cold arrows at him, and they had always been in league with the Xianbei. Even if they surrendered, Qu Yunmie didn’t want them.

Xiao Rong sat silently at the side. He remembered what he had said to Difa Ceng a few months earlier—he had said that Qu Yunmie wouldn’t stop here. At that time, he had thought it would be after Qu Yunmie became Emperor that he would clean up the steppe tribes one by one. Who would have thought that plans couldn’t keep up with change, and an accident came so soon. The Rouran’s one decision hastened their own death date.

Thinking of Difa Ceng, who was still in Chenliu at this moment, Xiao Rong touched his nose, thinking that after the New Year, perhaps he could send him out.

While he was distracted, Yu Shaoxie asked the Buddha’s Son what the Kumo Xi had given as a pledge of allegiance. After all, this was a sneak attack plan, and if he hadn’t been absolutely certain that the Kumo Xi had joined their side, the Buddha’s Son wouldn’t have revealed that they needed them to cover the Northern Army.

Mijing, hearing this, took a scroll of sheepskin from his sleeve. He slowly unfolded it before the crowd. Everyone leaned their heads together, and finally it was Xiao Rong who first recognized what it was. “A… a city defense map? The city defense map of Shengle?!”

Mijing said, “It is a map of Shengle. As for the marked places, they are the result of years of the Kumo Xi’s secret observations. Every time their people entered the city, they saw that these places had important deployments. Now they might not be the same, so we can only treat them as general references.”

Everyone: “…”

Yu Shaoxie was in awe. “So they’d always harbored disloyalty toward the Xianbei. They wanted to seize Shengle City for themselves!”

Qu Yunmie said, “No.”

Everyone turned to look at him. He nodded approvingly. “They wanted to avenge the late imperial clan. Admirable courage, though not much sense. The cruelty of the Yuwen clan is no less than that of the Murong clan. What is there in such masters worth loyalty?”

Shaking his head regretfully and hearing no response, Qu Yunmie looked around doubtfully. “Why are you all not speaking?”

Everyone: “…”

We didn’t know what to say.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Jian Qiao suddenly spoke. “How can we be sure this is really a map of Shengle? What if it’s fake?”

Shengle wasn’t Jinling. Foreigners couldn’t just sneak in disguised as caravans. Shengle had shut its gates against the Central Plains, and any Central Plains man who tried to approach would be killed on the spot. Even before the armies came, this had already been the case.

Hearing this, the others also fell into worry. At this time, Mijing shook his head. “General Jian, rest assured. This is indeed Shengle’s map.”

Gongsun Yuan didn’t understand. “How can you be sure?”

Mijing said, “Because the locations on this map differed little from what I saw nine years ago. If there are slight discrepancies, it may just be changes in the past nine years. This map can help the Northern Army’s coming actions, but the King and generals cannot act solely according to it. The Kumo Xi were right—it can only be a reference.”

You were in Shengle nine years ago?!

For an instant, several people present were inwardly shocked to think this.

Everyone knew that after the Yong court moved south, the two years Mijing had guarded Zunshan Temple had been an unerasable shadow in his heart. Anyone with a bit of sense wouldn’t tear open that scar.

Tacitly, they no longer discussed it. It was enough to know the map was genuine. Qu Yunmie, however, felt displeased that no one had responded to him just now, and seeing everyone being so considerate toward Mijing made him even more unhappy. He couldn’t help thinking: why was everyone like this? What was so special about the Buddha’s Son? Why did everyone treat him so well?

Yet he still didn’t deliberately stab at Mijing. He stayed quiet as well.

Qu Yunmie took the map to study carefully. Xiao Rong kept watching him, and after seeing that he truly didn’t act willfully, he pressed his lips together and smiled faintly. Then he turned his head, and while Qu Yunmie wasn’t looking, he quickly raised both hands and gave Mijing two big thumbs up.

He grinned, showing a few teeth. Even the most oblivious person could see what he meant. Buddha’s Son, you really have ability!

The Buddha’s Son looked at him quietly and returned a polite smile. Only in his heart he thought: Thank you, but you really had no backbone.

 

……

When Qu Yunmie turned back with the map, Xiao Rong immediately restored his composure. He stood there calm and unruffled, as if he had done nothing.

 

＊

 

To be honest, this map didn’t help that much in the sneak attack. As for the weak points in the city wall, these past few days the scouts had already brought back information, and they had locked onto several spots. Once Qu Yunmie infiltrated, he wouldn’t need a map—he only needed to keep walking along the wall, avoid attracting enemy notice as much as possible, reach the North Gate, then kill all the guards there and let their men in.

As for what to do after entering, of course they would kill their way through. Shengle’s palace was nothing special. Like any palace, it lay in the very center of Shengle City, so whether they had a map or not, they could find it.

With the map, they would just find it faster.

The true value of the map still lay in how it proved the Kumo Xi’s resolve. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. The Xianbei’s power had waned, and with so few numbers, the Kumo Xi couldn’t possibly resist the Northern Army. The choice was as plain as the lice on Mijing’s head.

……

Yet such situations have happened countless times in history, and those who made the right choice were very, very few.

This was because people had a fluke mentality. People had pride. Pure rationality didn’t exist in human nature. From the day one was born, one had already been influenced by all kinds of things. Biological instinct drove people to climb upward, pushing them again and again to want more. The more one possessed, the harder it became to give up. If one couldn’t learn to let go, then one could only fight desperately to the very last moment. Even if halfway through one already knew one was wrong, even if one already understood the fate that awaited, they would rather die heroically than live humbly.

The Yuwen clan thought this way. As for the Murong clan, outsiders didn’t yet know.

The Kumo Xi—whether they learned the lesson of the Yuwen clan, or whether they simply felt that revenge was enough and it didn’t matter whose vassals they became—was hard to say.

Life and death had no inherent right or wrong. It was only the living who insisted on giving the dead a value judgment. Their judgments were seen only by themselves. The dead didn’t care. They had already paid the price they should. In this unjust world, the only fair thing was life and death. Everyone had one life, and the only thing they could stake was this one life.

 

…………

After ruining six brushes, Xiao Rong finally made a successful product. Afraid of embarrassment, he tested it only in his own tent every time. Now that it finally worked, he immediately put his hands behind his back and eagerly went to find Qu Yunmie.

Qu Yunmie was sharpening his Snow-Drinking Vengeance Spear. He ground it twice, sprinkled some water on it, and then kept grinding. Sometimes he adjusted the angle, narrowing his eyes to check whether the silver-white spear tip was even. Qu Yunmie’s eyesight must have exceeded the eye chart, for he could spot the tiniest flaws that others couldn’t see.

Xiao Rong: “……”

So, the scratch on the Chilong Sword hadn’t been due to faulty craftsmanship, but because time had run short.

So much happened during this time. Xiao Rong had originally wanted to settle accounts with Qu Yunmie over the Chilong Sword, but once he arrived at the camp, he had forgotten it himself. Now that he remembered, Qu Yunmie would be setting out again the next day, with no marching buffer. From the moment he mounted his warhorse, the great battle would already have begun.

Pressing his lips together, Xiao Rong quietly approached. Standing behind Qu Yunmie, and seeing he hadn’t noticed him, Xiao Rong lifted the whistle he had made and blew hard.

A crisp, bird-like sound rang out behind Qu Yunmie, but he wasn’t startled at all. He only turned around blankly and looked at what Xiao Rong held. “You spent these days making this thing?”

Xiao Rong frowned, dissatisfied with his reaction. “I blew so loudly, and you didn’t react at all.”

Qu Yunmie said, “You stood there half a day without moving or making a sound. Even Snow-Drinking knew something strange was going on.”

Xiao Rong: “…”

He looked at Qu Yunmie disdainfully. “My King, better call it by its full name. To call a weapon just ‘Snow-Drinking’… it sounds too weird.”

Qu Yunmie turned his head back and kept grinding. He said casually, “It’s my weapon. I will call it as I wish. As long as it’s mine, I will name it how I want.”

Xiao Rong gazed at his back. After a moment of silence, he lifted the whistle again. Pulling the bamboo strip inside, he blew, and this time a different bird call came out—melodious and varied, changing tune again and again. Xiao Rong enjoyed himself blowing it. Then he walked around to stand in front of Qu Yunmie, placed the whistle in his palm, and handed it to him.

He said, “This is called a bird whistle. The sounds it makes are almost indistinguishable from real bird calls. No one can tell the difference. And it is loud—you can use it to communicate with other infiltrating soldiers, or signal the men outside whether to move or hold. It is simple: three short and one long sound, which happens to be the shrike’s call.”

As he spoke, Xiao Rong demonstrated it again.

When he finished, he held the bird whistle out to Qu Yunmie once more.

Qu Yunmie looked at it. He didn’t take it immediately but picked up a towel and wiped his hands, then pinched the thin bamboo tube.

After examining it for a while, Qu Yunmie lifted the whistle to his lips. Without pulling the bamboo strip inside, he blew hard once.

A sharp whistle rang out, shaking Xiao Rong so much that he couldn’t help but cover his ears. He squatted on the ground, unable to stand it, and shouted at Qu Yunmie, “What bird cries so loudly! Be careful or you will blow it apart!”

Qu Yunmie laughed twice, looked at Xiao Rong, and asked him, “A few days ago I saw you drawing blueprints and looking for blacksmiths. I thought you were going to make something even bigger.”

Xiao Rong stayed squatting, finding this posture rather good, so he didn’t get up immediately. Frowning, he said, “You mean the grappling hook? I thought it over and still feel it isn’t practical. A city wall 12 meters high—who would have the strength to throw several kilos of metal up there?”

 

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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