The lonely, cold wind sliced against his cheeks, and the tattered, dim flags fluttered weakly. Xin Yi’s fingers were somewhat stiff from the frost; he flexed them and touched the hilt of Tiandao at his waist. The blade seemed to bring him a sense of stability.
Arsleng’s continuous assaults had only just ceased at dawn. Xin Yi felt a splitting headache; he raised a hand to brush away the stray hairs on his forehead and found his skin burning with fever. The pungent mixture of various odors was suffocating, making him feel increasingly nauseous.
This kind of war of attrition was designed to make one numb and exhausted; once a person fell into irritability, they would make mistakes. Xin Yi did not want to make a mistake, so he stood in the wind with his eyes closed for a few moments, letting the cold air clear his thoughts.
Three days had passed since his last raid.
During these three days, he had attempted several strikes, the greatest success being the burning of Dayuan’s reserve siege engines. Yet, they were far from safe, for Dayuan could simply mobilize more from their rear.
His hands were covered in scars, but he could no longer feel the pain. This suited Xin Yi just fine. He rubbed a handful of snow over his skin and heard the sound of horns from below once more.
They were coming again.
Xin Yi turned to descend the wall. Wu Yu, who had been sleeping curled up against the base of the battlements, jolted awake. He scrambled up and exchanged a quick, firm pat on the shoulder with Xin Yi as the latter brushed past him. Wu Yu slapped his own cheeks and shouted in a voice so hoarse it sounded like a cracked gong, "Change the guard! Those who were on the wall last night, get down! Let those who slept come up! Ready the beams! Crush them to death!"
On the other side, Xin Yi had already vaulted onto his horse. He had added something to the bracer on his left arm—the iron plating had been stripped away to reveal sharp, protruding spikes.
The Beiyang soldiers mounting their horses behind him felt a slight shiver. Looking at the Prince’s silent profile and remembering how that weapon was used, their hearts pounded.
Sensing their gaze, Xin Yi turned his head and gave them a small smile. He pulled the reins and galloped toward the city gate.
The gate had been modified by the engineering team into a portcullis style. They had embedded spikes into the bottom, identical to the ones on Xin Yi’s arm. If dropped at a critical moment, it would serve as a devastating surprise attack.
The spiked shield-gate was slowly hoisted up.
Xin Yi sat upright on his horse and drew Tiandao. The tip of the blade hung low beside Chiye’s flank. It dipped heavily as the screams from outside reached his ears, then swung out in a fierce lateral slash the moment its master surged forward.
Blood bubbled from a severed neck as Chiye galloped past. A lost head rolled into the chaotic mess of footsteps as Xin Yi plunged into the ranks of the Dayuan soldiers.
The roar of battle shook the heavens, but the enemy’s bellows were cut short by the edge of his blade. Anyone who could withstand Xin Yi’s sword could not withstand the following spikes. Xin Yi threw himself into the crowd; Tiandao and his spikes were soon stained with filth, and he was no different.
Three Dayuan soldiers parried with their scimitars, their blades pushing back against Chiye’s advance. Xin Yi slid sideways off the horse’s back, his agile form lunging forward to seize one man’s throat. The man’s eyes widened, flickering with terror as they reflected Xin Yi’s expressionless face. A soldier to the side raised a blade, but Tiandao flipped in Xin Yi’s palm, piercing the man’s throat before being pulled out without mercy. The man still caught in his grip tried to scream, but Xin Yi tightened his fingers, snapping the life out of him.
The sound of the bone snapping was sickening.
Slay, pierce, cleave.
It seemed only these three actions remained in his mind. Xin Yi moved with a mechanical numbness. Suddenly, a heavy object struck his lower back, denting his armor. The sensation of his wounds splitting open jolted his spirit, and Tiandao swung backward in a lethal arc.
He was surrounded; layer upon layer of Dayuan soldiers surged forward. Blades began to land on Xin Yi’s body, but he accepted all challengers, cutting them all down beneath his sword.
Tiandao.
Even the mention of the name now made people tremble.
His father and brothers had faced battlefields like this constantly, on and on, until they could no longer.
There were many times when saying a word felt incredibly light, but only when one waded through a mountain of blades and a sea of fire for that word could they truly feel the weight of those thousands of pounds and the steadfastness of days and nights.
At some point, a wind began to blow, whistling into his collar and chilling his chest. Xin Yi stood upon the corpses, gasping for breath as he looked around.
There was no end in sight.
An endless sea of Dayuan men.
The ones he had fought so hard to cut down were but one in ten thousand. Blood had melted the accumulated snow into a slushy stream; the corpses had made the white disappear entirely. Bodies from who knew how many days were piled here, beneath his feet and weighing upon his shoulders.
Xin Yi spotted Arsleng.
He gave a sharp whistle, and Chiye came galloping over. He vaulted onto the horse’s back. Chiye leaped and crashed through the crowd, charging toward Arsleng. This was their countless encounter, yet the Lion King remained as steady as a mountain.
Arsleng’s long blade had broken under Tiandao the previous night; today, he carried a scimitar. That heavy, cold blade was as difficult to deal with as a serpent coiled on Mount Canaan. It had shed the thunderous stability of his long blade, becoming cunning and ruthless.
On the wall, Wu Yu was calculating the timing for the beams. The sky was turning from bright to dim, and the cold pressed in with urgency.
Xin Yi could not stay outside the city overnight unless he had sufficient charcoal and food.
Xin Yi gradually sensed something was wrong.
Arsleng was entangled with him and refused to retreat, yet the assault on the city gate was not even as fierce as it had been the night before. Nearly half of the Dayuan troops were held in the rear; they neither gave him an opening for a raid nor made any move.
Xin Yi suddenly pulled back his blade, but Arsleng followed closely, his scimitar flickering like a serpent’s tongue to keep him pinned. He could not break free, nor could he retreat.
Arsleng intended to keep him outside the city!
The heavy troops in the rear began to press forward, their hooves churning the earth like a giant beast, grinding over limbs as they moved toward the gate. If Xin Yi could not make it back before the heavy troops reached the gate, he would be left outside. Wu Yu would have to choose to abandon the Prince of Yan to preserve the remaining Beiyang soldiers and civilians in Shangjin.
He couldn't get away!
A sharp whistle suddenly pierced the air from the side. Several men pulled chains, swinging them in a double-headed whirl around Chiye. Chiye neighed and reared, but his hind hooves were entangled by the chains, and he could not break free.
Xin Yi’s heart ached for the horse. Before he could turn his head, his collar was violently seized, and he was slammed into the ground with immense force! Xin Yi fell face-down, his legs instinctively clamping around Arsleng’s shoulders to halve the impact, yet he was still left dizzy and nauseous. Then, the back of a blade struck his stomach with heavy force. Xin Yi coughed up bile as he was thrown to the ground.
Without needing an order, the surrounding scimitars were already poised to slit his throat.
Chiye suddenly went wild with rage. He reared and kicked away the blades above Xin Yi’s head. His hind hooves dragged the men holding the chains, swinging them through the crowd.
Xin Yi propped himself up and cut down the man nearest to him with a clean stroke. Stumbling to his feet, he scrambled back onto Chiye’s back.
The heavy troops had already reached the gate. Wu Yu was watching with desperate eyes. But how could Xin Yi possibly make it in time? Wu Yu gritted his teeth until they nearly broke and hissed, "Drop the gate!"
Drop the gate!
The little cub struggled out from between the soldiers' legs and crashed into Wu Yu’s leg, giving him a vicious bite.
Wu Yu’s eyes were red with anxiety, but he couldn't say another word. Ignoring the child, he turned and hammered on the battlements, screaming at the top of his lungs, "Drop the gate!"
The spiked shield-gate crashed down with a roar.
The sky had turned black. Xin Yi’s figure flickered in and out of sight amidst the Dayuan crowd. Chiye’s neighing grew more and more distant. Wu Yu clung to the wall, shouting with all his might, "The Master is in the south!"
Xin Yi seemed to turn his head.
Wu Yu felt his face grow wet; he didn't know if it was because of the falling snow.
The pitch-black night sky held no stars.
*The Master is in the south.*
*You still have to go south. You cannot die here.*
Chiye kept running.
The snow grew thicker and thicker until even Chiye could no longer run. Finally, Xin Yi slid from the horse’s back and tumbled into the snow. His armor hit the ground with a clatter, but he remained motionless.
Chiye still dragged the chains on his hind hooves. He lowered his head and nudged Xin Yi’s cheek, but received no response. Chiye circled him once and then curled up by his side.
The snow began to fall harder.
Before long, Xin Yi’s body and hair were covered in white. His cheeks were a pale, sickly blue, and the hand pinned beneath his body showed no movement. But it was too cold; if he stayed down any longer, he would freeze to death. Chiye began to lick Xin Yi’s cheek, the warm, wet sensation finally calling back his consciousness.
He stirred and suddenly snapped his eyes open.
His breathing became ragged. Xin Yi tried to push himself up, but as his left hand pressed into the snow, something felt wrong. The snow blocked his vision. Xin Yi slowly withdrew his hand. The back of his hand gradually emerged from the snow, but he stopped just as his fingers were about to be revealed.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. Xin Yi bit his lip until it was dry and bleeding.
His.
The pinky finger of his left hand was gone.
Perhaps it was lost in the chaos of the army, perhaps it was lost to Arsleng’s scimitar, or perhaps it was lost on the road during his desperate escape.
It was simply gone.
"Ah." He buried his head in the snow. After a long time, when the snow was about to bury him again, he gave a soft, low laugh to Chiye, his lips curved in a bitter line. "As long as it wasn't the right hand."
The right hand still had to hold the sword.
Xin Yi climbed to his feet, snow falling from him in clumps. His eyebrows were frosted over, and his limbs were stiff with cold. Chiye’s hind hooves had been chafed raw by the chains. He knelt to unbind them. Chiye walked a few steps, then began to run in circles around Xin Yi on the snow like a streak of fire.
Tiandao was still there, but his armor was too damaged to wear. Xin Yi unbuckled the armor and, leading Chiye, began to trek through the heavy snow.
Chiye had carried him for an entire night. Dayuan had only sent light cavalry to pursue him, as Arsleng had to remain at Shangjin for the standoff. Now that day had broken and the snow was heavy, Xin Yi found it difficult to tell where he was. But with Shangjin at his back, he should be in the borderlands between Dalan and Dayuan, close to Dayuan territory.
It was too cold.
He had only a horse and a blade.
He didn't know how much time had passed in his dazed state. His feet had lost all sensation in the snow when, through the vast expanse of wind and frost, he finally saw a flicker of human presence.
"Brother! Is that our horse?" In the heavy snow, a girl wrapped in sheepskin used her hand to shield her eyes, shouting to the tall, sturdy youth ahead of her, "Over there! Look over there!" Just as she finished, her foot caught on something, and she tumbled into the snow.
The youth turned back and hauled her up, shouting back, "Where?"
The girl yelled into her brother’s ear, "Deaf Ao Yun! Right there!" She pointed her finger directly at Xin Yi.
Ao Yun ignored his sister’s scolding and looked where she pointed. He immediately saw the magnificent red horse. His eyes lit up, but then he frowned, pulling his sister back. "No, that’s not our horse."
He saw the young man leading the horse, dressed only in a thin robe against the snow. Even though the stranger looked gentle and disheveled, he had no intention of approaching carelessly.
He stood his ground and shouted across the wind and snow.
"Who are you?"
Xin Yi’s throat was parched and his mind was hazy, yet he tightened his grip on the blade at his waist. He did not answer.
Ao Yun’s brow furrowed, his voice dropping low.
"Beiyang Army?"
***
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