Yuan Baifu strode out of the dense forest with his own personal soldiers, and 250m away, his and Wang Xinyong’s troops were resting there.

The mountains were a strange place, the exit was only three steps away from a man, yet he could trap himself to death without ever finding the correct way out. A place that looked dangerous might be a flat open road, and a place that looked safe might be a bottomless cliff.

No one there heard a single sound from the commotion on the other side. It was cold on the mountain, and many soldiers were sitting by the fire boiling water to drink, while Qu Jin kept watching in all directions and listening carefully. Only when he heard the overlapping rustle of leaves behind him did he quickly turn around.

Not seeing Wang Xinyong return, he knew the matter was already done.

In that instant, Qu Jin did not even know what he felt.

He was excited and terrified at the same time, his adrenaline surging without end. His face grew increasingly flushed, but it was not a healthy flush—it was an abnormal one.

Yuan Baifu looked much calmer than him. He did not give Qu Jin even a glance and went straight back into the crowd. Naturally, his own soldiers surrounded him, and Wang Xinyong’s men had no way to approach him.

But Wang Xinyong’s men had already walked over. Only Yuan Baifu returned alone, of course they had to ask where their commander had gone.

And Yuan Baifu answered them: “General Wang had another task. He already took his men back to Shengle. The king issued an order: you are to follow my command. General Qu will temporarily assume General Wang’s duties.”

The deputy generals and captains of the rear army looked at one another, feeling extremely shocked and confused.

The right captain of the rear army had a full beard, and his personality was as bold as his appearance, he always spoke whatever came to mind: “When did the king issue a secret order? Why did General Wang not say a word to us beforehand? He only took four personal guards and intended to return to Shengle? Since when had General Wang ever been so careless!”

Seeing this, Qu Jin came over and reprimanded the right captain: “Must the king’s decree be discussed with you beforehand! Yao Xian, you overstepped your rank!”

Qu Jin was the left captain, Yao Xian the right captain, and their difference in rank doomed them never to get along. After Wang Xinyong was reassigned, Qu Jin led the rear army for a while, resulting in the rear army suffering the heaviest casualties. Yao Xian always had opinions about him, but as Wang Xinyong’s trusted aide from Southern Yong, he held back for Wang Xinyong’s sake.

Careless in appearance but careful in thought—that was Yao Xian. Qu Jin’s stay in the rear army was only temporary, sooner or later Qu Yunmie would transfer him away. Wang Xinyong had expressed more than once in private that if anything happened to him, the old brothers were all to listen to Yao Xian and place themselves under his command.

For many reasons, Yao Xian avoided clashing with Qu Jin. Even when Qu Jin temporarily led the rear army, he did not voice a single objection. But today he sharply sensed something wrong. Qu Jin looked angry but was actually extremely nervous.

He was not the only one who sensed something amiss. In real life there were not that many award-winning actors. Qu Jin’s bluster masking weakness, Yuan Baifu’s excessive silence, and the much more clearly separated positions of the two armies compared to previous days—all of it made the group uneasy.

Suppressing the urgency in his voice, Yao Xian asked Yuan Baifu in a deep tone: “General Yuan, what order exactly did the king give to General Wang?”

Yuan Baifu lifted his eyes and looked at Yao Xian, and Yao Xian was startled by that look.

Because Yuan Baifu seemed like a different person altogether.

He was no longer kind or gentle with others. His eyes held contempt, ridicule, and something that made one frown—fanaticism.

Yao Xian’s heart dropped. He immediately knew something was wrong, but he had no time to react. He could see that Yuan Baifu was in an abnormal state, but others did not.

One deputy general behind Yao Xian could no longer endure. Wang Xinyong had gone out with Yuan Baifu, and now only Yuan returned, seeing his attitude, and thinking about what might have happened to Wang Xinyong, fury ignited within him.

“Where exactly is General Wang! You pale-faced—”

Before he finished, Yuan Baifu suddenly drew his blade and chopped at the man’s neck. Blood sprayed out, and then the man’s body collapsed limply. His eyes were still open, and his head was only half attached to his neck, the other half was already separated.

His head and body rested on the ground at an impossible angle. Soldiers nearby heard the commotion and stared in shock.

Then Yuan Baifu said to Wang Xinyong’s subordinates: “From today on! The left army no longer belongs to the Northern Army. Any man in the rear army who wants to live will obey General Qu. Those who do not want to live—step out now.”

A comrade died before their eyes—no one could bear that. Men from both sides clashed instantly. But Yuan Baifu had not become a commander because he was good at pretending. He truly had the skill to fight. Among the four, the fiercest in battlefield slaughter was Gongsun Yuan, but in single combat, Yuan Baifu had the highest win rate.

He had never been merely a decorative figure, he had his own strength. It was just that no one noticed while he stood beside Qu Yunmie.

Roars and the tearing of flesh sounded together. Although no one gave orders to the soldiers on that side, if the fighting continued, that side would also erupt. Yao Xian watched two more of his own men die. His mind went blank. Suddenly, he threw down his weapon, stopped his comrades who still wanted to fight, and with a crash, knelt on the ground.

“…General Yuan, spare us! We—we are willing to follow General Yuan!”

The men behind him were nearly driven mad: “Yao Xian!!!”

But someone understood Yao Xian’s intent. He also grabbed a comrade who wanted to charge again and dragged him down to kneel as well.

Yuan Baifu watched them beg for mercy and let out a faint laugh. He walked over and personally helped them up.

…

Rebellion was not difficult, especially in that era. The soldiers who joined the Northern Army were not particularly loyal. They might once have belonged to other forces, or previously lived by robbery, with a change of name, they became feared military lords.

The Northern Army had nearly five hundred thousand men, but only about fifty thousand had ever seen Qu Yunmie, and fewer than five thousand had spoken to him. Even if Xiao Rong worked to steady the army’s morale, what could one or two days accomplish?

In the end, ordinary soldiers only followed orders. Those who truly determined whether men stayed or left were the low-ranking officers, and these officers happened to enjoy the small favors Yuan Baifu frequently gave—far more approachable than the king, who spoke only through military merit and stood far above them.

The left army was Yuan Baifu’s domain. When forces were divided, he assigned those less close to him to Yu Shaocheng and kept forty thousand who were almost all his own followers. Even if there were dissenting voices, they were quickly drowned out by supporters. The rear army was harder to subdue, but with Qu Jin’s help, he could control more than ten thousand of the thirty-five thousand men. The rest obeyed Yao Xian. Yao Xian surrendered, so they naturally had nothing more to say.

Rebellion truly was not hard. It could be completed in a single day—so simple it made one shudder. All the mental preparation he had made felt useless. So quickly, all these troops became his.

This created an illusion—that the road ahead would be just as smooth. Had he known, he would have done this long ago.

…

Yuan Baifu ordered everyone to mount. Next, they would force-march, descend Lianyun Pass today, and strive to enter the Hanzhong Basin by tomorrow night. He still intended to go to Ningzhou, but this time it was not to fight Shen Yangrui—it was to meet him.

Passing by Yao Xian and the others, Yuan Baifu saw them all standing meekly with lowered heads. A few glared at him with hatred, which only made Yuan Baifu want to laugh.

These were Wang Xinyong’s subordinates. Led by a surrendered general, they were no strangers to surrender. Once they surrendered, they could do so again, and again in the future.

He would not make that mistake. For now, keeping Yao Xian and the others would stabilize morale. Once he established himself, he would reorganize all thirty-five thousand men, and as for Yao Xian and his peers, he would give them to Shen Yangrui. Surely Southern Yong would like such a gift.

…

Every general had men loyal to him.

Yuan Baifu did, and Wang Xinyong did too. But for some reason, Yuan Baifu seemed blind to that. He was proud of the many who followed him, yet never considered that Wang Xinyong had also worked in the rear army for ten years. The saying was true: A general is only as good as his soldiers, and the soldiers are only as good as their general. Thus, the rear army’s men could endure like Wang Xinyong, and stay steady like Wang Xinyong. Being able to bend and stretch was not wrong, but enduring too much and suddenly exploding at the breaking point—that was courting death.

When Yuan Baifu walked past, Yao Xian lifted his head. His gaze was as terrifying as a poison-coated blade. Yuan Baifu had deceived them and said nothing of where General Wang was now. Seeing his cruelty toward the others, what had happened to General Wang was no longer hard to imagine.

His general had been harmed by Yuan Baifu.

Staring at Yuan Baifu, Yao Xian uttered a sentence in his heart—each word dripping blood.

Yuan Baifu, you would not die a good death.

Would—not—die—a—good—death!—

*

Shuofang City.

There was much to prepare before the triumphal return—how to settle the prisoners of war, how to operate the city, how to escort the spoils, and how to manage the Xianbei who, after scrutiny, were permitted to return to their lives.

Yu Shaoxie did not intend to leave. His younger brother was still fighting the Khitan, and Shengle needed people. He planned to stay personally and help Shengle through this difficult period. Once Xiao Rong returned to Chenliu, he could select suitable people to take over his duties.

Xiao Rong frowned. “Once it snows, the roads will be challenging. How will you return then?”

Yu Shaoxie said: “If I truly cannot return, then after spring begins, I will return to Chenliu.”

Xiao Rong widened his eyes. “You are not going home for the new year?”

As soon as he said that, Xiao Rong suddenly shut his mouth. Yu Shaoxie paused, then his expression softened quickly. “It is only one year. After this, I can spend every new year with Rong.”

Xiao Rong: “…………”

He felt explaining would only make it worse. He simply stopped talking and picked up the documents he needed to bring back to Chenliu. Pointing at a pile of bamboo slips, he said: “These are the Xianbei records of the grasslands from fifty years ago, more than 1,5t in total. It is troublesome to bring them all back. Let us sort them and remove what is useless.”

Hearing that, Mijing lifted his head from what he was reading and looked at the mountain-like pile of bamboo slips. He nodded. “I will handle it.”

Xiao Rong laughed at him. “If you do it alone, you will not sleep tonight. I will go eat lunch first. When I return, we will look through them together.”

Yu Shaoxie smiled. “Go on. There is nothing urgent now. If you are tired, sleep for a while.”

Xiao Rong left with the papers, muttering: “Eat and sleep afterward—do I look like a pig?”

Yu Shaoxie heard his muttering, smiled, shook his head, and walked toward the pile of bamboo slips.

…

Leaving the courtyard, Xiao Rong headed to his room. Many such materials had piled up there, he did not trust storing them elsewhere, so he kept everything in his own quarters. After a whole morning of work, Xiao Rong was truly hungry and walked quickly. Qu Yunmie was waiting ahead. The city matters were handled by his trusted aides. With no battles, Qu Yunmie had returned to a leisurely state and could accompany Xiao Rong for all three meals again.

Hearing Xiao Rong’s footsteps, Qu Yunmie slowly stood up. He straightened his clothes before stepping outside. Suddenly, the sounds outside shifted slightly. Qu Yunmie’s expression changed. He rushed out, taking only a few steps before catching Xiao Rong, who was collapsing forward.

Books dropped everywhere. Some pages had already torn. Qu Yunmie half-knelt on the ground, holding Xiao Rong’s upper body tightly. Xiao Rong had not fainted yet, he even raised his head and looked at Qu Yunmie.

In his vision, Qu Yunmie was already a distorted figure, but he could still make out Qu Yunmie’s expression—eyes slightly widened, pupils darting in anxious unrest. As one of the strongest and toughest men in the world, Qu Yunmie was not someone who showed fear or confusion easily, and this might have been the closest he came to fear—helplessly staring at Xiao Rong, grasping him like iron pincers, as if trying to use brute force to pull him back to safety.

Xiao Rong had beautiful eyes, clean and pure. Though human eyes were always round, his curves were finer, like two glass spheres.

Qu Yunmie watched Xiao Rong slowly close his eyes. Xiao Rong parted his lips as if wanting to speak, but in the end he could not. When his eyes finally closed completely, he collapsed into Qu Yunmie’s arms with a thud—

Xiao Rong fell silently, but the loud sound came from Qu Yunmie’s heart, as if a giant stone had struck it. It made him sway. It hurt, but not enough to break him.

Qu Yunmie remained frozen in that posture until he sensed the warm breath of the body in his arms. Only then did he breathe again.

He looked at a sturdy tree ahead. There was not a single green leaf on it, only a few yellow, withered ones that, for some unknown reason, still stayed on the branches. Even in the piercing cold wind, they refused to fall.

Someone walked past outside, it was Jian Qiao. When he saw Xiao Rong and Qu Yunmie in that position, his heart tightened at once. He was just about to run over, when he saw the King lift Xiao Rong horizontally in his arms. He lowered his eyes to look at Xiao Rong’s complexion, then walked inside while giving an order to Jian Qiao behind him: “Pick all those things up.”

Jian Qiao answered: “Oh,” and then reacted: “I’ll go find a doctor first!”

But Qu Yunmie said: “No need.”

After speaking, he was already inside the room, and he kicked the door shut.

Jian Qiao stared blankly at the tightly closed door, not really understanding what was happening.

The King… had he gotten used to this?

*

No one could get used to such a thing.

But once he discovered that no matter what reaction he had, nothing worked, he no longer wasted his time.

He originally thought the sacred herb could improve things, since its name had “sacred” in it. Using something supernatural to counter something supernatural ought to help.

But he hadn’t found the sacred herb, and to be honest, he wasn’t even sure the sacred herb was real.

Some people seemed heartless and carefree, and those who knew them would shake their heads when they saw them. They looked down on such people, thinking they understood nothing.

But in truth, they did understand—hurtful words, unfair treatment, angry accusations, self-deceiving lies.

If one understood, must one speak up? Must one make others aware? No need, because once spoken, it became too real. No one wished to confront their flaws and helplessness—least of all the proud sons of heaven.

Wasn’t it ironic? Qu Yunmie prided himself on being the best in the world, yet in the thing he most wanted to do, he couldn’t help at all, could only make it worse. Sometimes he even felt this “best in the world” title was granted by the heavens solely to mock him.

He sat beside Xiao Rong. The room was filled with all kinds of things that were to be taken back to Chenliu. This place didn’t look like a bedchamber, it looked like a warehouse. In the fully packed room, only the bed was still empty. Even with Xiao Rong lying on it, Qu Yunmie still felt the room was so empty, so light, as if nothing were there.

During this time someone came, but Jian Qiao at the door turned them away. Qu Yunmie didn’t care what happened outside. He stared at Xiao Rong without blinking. Finally, those eyes opened once more.

Xiao Rong looked at him. He hadn’t said anything yet when Qu Yunmie spoke first: “I didn’t do anything.”

That was part of the usual routine—Qu Yunmie answered proactively so Xiao Rong didn’t need to ask. But Xiao Rong froze for a moment, blinked, and tried to sit up by pushing on the bedboard.

He had no strength. After trying and failing, Qu Yunmie pressed his lips together, reached out, and helped him up.

Once he finally sat properly, Xiao Rong smiled a little. He probably didn’t know how terrible his complexion was, such a smile didn’t ease Qu Yunmie’s heart at all.

He said: “I know. I didn’t plan to ask whether the King did something. These days I’ve always been with the King, I…”

Here, he suddenly stopped speaking, because he felt very tired. Even saying a few words exhausted him.

This was another new symptom—somewhat like before, when he had not yet found Qu Yunmie, but still not the same. Xiao Rong was simply too tired now, he couldn’t judge precisely. The system had drained the strength from his body. Leaning on the headboard, his expression suddenly sank.

It felt like everything had returned to the beginning. His efforts, everyone’s efforts, were pushed back to their original state in one night. And he was so, so tired. He didn’t want to start over again.

“Xiao Rong.”

When Xiao Rong heard that call, he lifted his head and saw Qu Yunmie looking at him.

His expression was hard to describe. He seemed nervous, like his voice—tight in an inexplicable way. Yet it wasn’t exactly nervousness. As a free man, he behaved like a prisoner, Xiao Rong could decide his future, and he didn’t want to hear anything bad from him.

…Perhaps not everything had returned to the beginning. At least Qu Yunmie was still the same as always.

Xiao Rong blinked tiredly and said: “I’m so tired.”

Qu Yunmie froze: “Do you want to rest?”

Xiao Rong shook his head. “Feels like resting won’t help. Sit closer.”

Qu Yunmie reacted for a second, still not understanding what Xiao Rong wanted. He moved forward a little, and Xiao Rong, even with eyes closed, knew he got it wrong.

He raised a sore arm and pointed to the wall behind him. Only then did Qu Yunmie realize, he immediately moved to the head of the bed and instinctively leaned against Xiao Rong’s shoulder. When he stopped moving, Xiao Rong tilted his head and half-lay down.

His limbs were weak, his waist and back were tired, and even his head felt heavy, as if he couldn’t lift it. In the quiet air, Xiao Rong spoke again, even softer than before: “I’m still so tired.”

Qu Yunmie immediately turned his head and asked: “What can I do?”

Xiao Rong opened a thin slit of an eye and looked at their two pairs of legs side by side. He said: “Tell me how you used to kill the Huhar people.”

Qu Yunmie: “…Why tell this?”

Xiao Rong: “I want to hear it. Can’t I?”

Qu Yunmie: “…”

Yes, of course he could.

He only feared Xiao Rong would think him too cruel.

But what Xiao Rong needed right now was exactly this—he wanted to hear Qu Yunmie’s feats of bravery to soothe his own mind.

Something had gone wrong again. Either something happened in Chenliu, or something went wrong in Kitan, or perhaps Han Qing was up to something again. The Buddha’s Child said that when he was in Changan, he had seen Han Qing, whose name then was Huishen. He was a shaven novice monk who often went to Zunshan Temple to listen to sermons.

Even rabbits would admire Han Qing, because while a cunning rabbit had only three burrows, who knew how many identities Han Qing had changed.

But it might not be him. Southern Yong was aiming at Qu Yunmie now, all regions were restless. Sometimes a spark of total war came from one tiny incident. It didn’t take long to go from peaceful days to rising war smoke.

Those were external problems. There could also be internal trouble.

But Xiao Rong felt that was unlikely, because anyone could see the Northern King stood unmatched. Only a fool would cause trouble at this moment, when the Northern King was about to seize the world.

…

However, reason told him this, yet he couldn’t help thinking over it repeatedly. If everyone made rational decisions, there wouldn’t be so many conflicts in the world.

As he thought and thought, his eyelids began to fight each other again. His last thought was: Forget it. Qu Yunmie was right beside him. No matter what happened outside, as long as Qu Yunmie was fine, they would solve everything sooner or later.

*

A lot happened that night. Yao Xian secretly sent an inconspicuous soldier to escape and report to Chenliu. After Qu Yunmie coaxed Xiao Rong to sleep, he immediately ordered the whole army to prepare. He planned to lead the army back to Chenliu on the morning of the day after tomorrow. Shuofang and Shengle were not safe places, and Xiao Rong’s condition worried him greatly. At least once they returned to Chenliu, Xiao Rong could rest in peace.

Everyone had things to do. In another unnoticed corner, under the starry sky, Wang Xinyong opened his eyes. He now looked like a corpse, his joints frozen stiff. He crawled up from the pebble bank with difficulty and dragged his limping leg downstream.

Yuan Baifu did know this place well—but only the upper part. The mountains and rivers of the Qinling were extremely complex. From above, looking below, it appeared like a sheer cliff, but in fact the cliff was only about a hundred zhang high. Below were dense bamboo forests and a violently fast river.

First, Wang Xinyong was slapped by dozens of meters of bamboo leaves, which cushioned some of the fall. Then—splat—belly down, he hit the river’s surface and fainted instantly.

…

Fainting in a river was extremely dangerous and could cause dry drowning. But Wang Xinyong had used up all his life’s luck—this river was especially fast and washed him far away quickly. Luckily, there was a shallow pebble bank below, and Wang Xinyong’s large build made him like a whale in the river. So he became stranded there.

…

His armor had been washed away. His body was covered in fine cuts—from stones, from bamboo. Wang Xinyong trudged forward silently. But not far ahead, reaching the second shallow bank, he saw one of his personal soldiers fainted there as well. He hurried his pace, dragging his injured leg, looking even more like a cripple. After he slapped the soldier awake, the two men stared at each other and burst into tears.

The soldier wailed: “General! I thought I would meet you again underground!”

Wang Xinyong’s eyes were red. He wasn’t crying as hard. He smacked the soldier’s head. “What nonsense! And keep your voice down—if you’re too loud you’ll attract beasts!”

And of course, as soon as he said it, the bamboo forest rustled, and a large beast slowly appeared before them.

The soldier widened his eyes in terror: “A bear!—”

Wang Xinyong quickly covered his mouth and glared sharply at the bear. Yuan Baifu’s treachery hadn’t killed him, how could he accept death under a beast’s claws?

But damn—his weapon was gone. What should he do, what should he do…

Yet while he was tense to the extreme, the bear tilted its head and looked at them for a moment. Then—crack!

It snapped off a short bamboo shoot and walked away with it.

Wang Xinyong: “…………”

The soldier was dumbfounded: “The bear… eats plants?”

Wang Xinyong, born in Wu Commandery, raised in Kuaiji Commandery.

The soldier, born in Yongjia Commandery, also raised in Kuaiji Commandery.

The two men, who had never seen a panda in their entire lives, stared in awe as the magnificent creature left. Stepping into the moonlight, its black-and-white coat appeared clearly. Wang Xinyong murmured: “The black-and-white bear are vegetarians. I will remember that.”

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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