Xiao Nanhui had once been on good terms with an old lieutenant from the Subei Camp. He had saved her life on the battlefield, and she had later treated him to wine at Wangchen Tower.
After three rounds of drinks, the old lieutenant had patted her shoulder and shared his years of personal experience on the front lines: in times of peril, what often saved a person’s life was not wisdom or strategy, but human instinct.
And instinct was something forged through countless brushes with death.
The current heavy fog reminded her of her final day in Bijiang—of An Lü, who had arrived with the frost-laden cold front, and the "Puhuna" lurking in the shadows. That sensation of approaching danger was so intense that once experienced, it could never be forgotten.
Something was wrong with this fog. She had to find Lu Songping as quickly as possible.
Because she had left Jixiang in Jizhou earlier, Xiao Nanhui had not had a permanent mount since returning to camp and was currently on foot. Relying on her memory of the camp's layout, she headed toward the westernmost sentry post.
Just then, a sound drifted through the impenetrable white mist, drawing closer.
*Clop-clop, clop-clop.*
It was the sound of hooves.
Tense, she listened closely, but could only discern the sound of a single horse.
The hoofbeats drew nearer, their pace unhurried, as if someone were merely taking a horse out for a stroll.
Finally, a silhouette gradually emerged from the thick fog—a dark, indistinct mass.
It was a horse, a black horse.
Its back was bare; the rider was nowhere to be seen. It seemed to be nothing more than a warhorse that had escaped from the stables.
The horse drew closer, showing no intention of stopping.
Xiao Nanhui hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward, reaching for the horse’s bridle.
The moment she saw the saddle clearly, her hand froze.
No, this was no ordinary warhorse.
A common warhorse would not have red tassels tied to its bridle, nor would its saddle be inlaid with white gemstones, and it certainly would not use fine silk for a saddle surface that could not withstand wear.
However, those were not the most important reasons. The reason she remembered this horse was that she had seen it before.
This was... Su Pingchuan’s horse.
That magnificent, spirited, coal-black stallion.
She grabbed the reins and pulled firmly; the horse finally slowed to a halt, its four black hooves planting firmly on the ground.
Only then did she realize that all four of the horse's shoes had been removed, which was why the hoofbeats she had heard earlier were so muffled.
She leaned in for a closer look and saw that the edges of the hooves were nearly worn raw. These were marks left only by a very long journey, a fact further evidenced by the dried foam around the horse's mouth.
Because of its black coat, it hadn't been obvious before, but now that she was close, she noticed a strange symbol drawn between the horse's eyes.
Xiao Nanhui reached out and touched it lightly. After rubbing her fingers together, a smudge of darkened red remained on her fingertips.
It was blood that had not yet fully dried.
In the next instant, the horse suddenly neighed as if startled, and it took a long moment of soothing before it finally calmed down.
Looking back in the direction the horse had come from, a line of shallow indentations stretched into the mist.
Those were the marks left by the horse's hooves.
Xiao Nanhui’s heart sank to the very bottom.
***
The transition between night and day is when the world is at its most chaotic, and when people are at their most weary and lax.
The period from the beginning of the Hour of the Ox to the end of the Hour of the Tiger is often the best time for a sneak attack during a military campaign. Consequently, camps usually bolster their defenses during this time, and night patrols are led by the most experienced corporals.
The corporal responsible for tonight’s patrol was a veteran of the Yanchi Battalion who had been withdrawn from the southern border defenses only a few months prior. He was well-versed in camp security, but he was utterly unaccustomed to the parched, dry weather of Suyan.
This discomfort had only begun to improve two days ago. Unfortunately, the respite was short-lived; another change had occurred tonight.
A quarter-hour ago, he had heard the corner drums on the western side of the camp being struck.
For an army on the march, signal fires were the standard means of warning and communication, but given tonight’s conditions, no matter how large the fire, it could not pierce this thick fog. However, the beating of drums was a warning measure taken only in the most urgent of moments. He felt apprehensive, yet he still harbored a sliver of hope.
The fog was indeed unusual, but it wasn't enough to warrant losing one's head. During his time in the south, he had seen all manner of mists and miasmas.
Commotion broke out in the camp due to the drumming, but before he could arrive with his men, the sound stopped. Then, a rapid succession of hoofbeats echoed from the center of the camp, as if someone were galloping at full speed.
Except for urgent military dispatches, galloping was strictly forbidden within the camp. Once caught, the punishment was far more severe than a few strokes of the cane; being stripped of rank or demoted were minor consequences, and in serious cases, it could even implicate one's superiors.
Those carrying dispatches would blow a whistle to signal their approach, but this person did not. The corporal signaled his men to prepare to intercept the newcomer, wanting to see which blind fool had chosen this moment to deliver themselves to his door.
However, before he could perform his duty, a tall black horse burst through the fog and headed straight for him. The rider abruptly hauled on the reins and flipped down from the saddle right in front of him.
He whipped out his saber, and through the hazy mist, he finally saw who it was.
"General of the Right?"
"Where is Lu Songping?"
Though Lu Songping was not well-liked, he was still a battalion commander; how could she call him directly by name?
This girl, made a general at such a young age, was indeed arrogant and flighty...
The corporal frowned. "Does the General know that galloping in camp is a capital offense? If you had collided with—"
Xiao Nanhui grabbed the man by the collar, her eyes seemingly spitting fire.
"I asked you, where is Lu Songping?!"
The corporal was stunned by her frantic expression, but he quickly recovered. "Was it the General who just sounded the drums? What exactly has happened..."
"Something bad." Before Xiao Nanhui could finish, a figure appeared behind her like a ghost.
Lu Songping took one look at the black horse, and his expression darkened instantly.
"That is the General of the Left’s horse."
Xiao Nanhui nodded, urgently showing him the marks on the horse and quickly recounting the story of Su Pingchuan’s capture in Bijiang. Before she could even voice her own deduction, Lu Songping had already reached a conclusion.
He unhooked the bronze horn that always hung at his waist.
"Alert all battalions immediately. According to the previous deployment, prepare for an enemy attack."
***
If one had to assign a single word to Lu Songping, Xiao Nanhui would choose "calculate."
Just like that night at Prince Kang’s palace in Tongcheng, she had used a "lure the tiger from the mountain" tactic on him, but he had almost immediately calculated that something was wrong. He had doubled back and cornered her inside the Xuemi Hall.
Then there was the night hunt for the bat swarm and the investigation into the traitors.
This perhaps explained why, even though his martial arts might not equal Ding Weixiang’s, he was able to serve as a battalion commander.
But this time, even Lu Songping had failed to calculate this turn of events.
He had calculated that the north wind would rage once Suyan entered the ninth month and that the wind would carry away the scent of the camp’s cooking fires, so he had chosen a campsite downwind of the Tianmu River. But he had not calculated that a great fog would roll in from the west.
He had calculated that messenger pigeons might expose the camp’s location, so he had standardized the methods of military communication early on. But he had not calculated that the horse of a general defeated months ago could "find its way home."
Xiao Nanhui could understand Lu Songping’s frustration, but she also had a vague feeling: none of this was due to his negligence, but rather because the Bai clan was acting against the heavens.
Suyan was usually so dry that one couldn't wring a drop of water from it; how could a fog arise?
Horses understood human nature, and warhorses were even more attuned to their masters' hearts; how could one be so easily commanded by outsiders?
If she were told that the Nanqiang people had not had a hand in this, she wouldn't believe it for a second.
The blood charm on the horse's forehead was the best evidence.
However, if someone had mentioned spells and charms to her a few months ago, she would have merely smiled and treated it as a joke. Visiting temples every year did not mean she was a devout believer in ghosts and gods. But ever since she had become involved with *that person*, strange events that defied her existing knowledge frequently occurred in her life.
The flying threads used for killing, the mysterious and elusive Puhuna, the small but vicious An Lü whose strikes were like the wind, the endless bizarre legends of the hundred-mile wilderness, and... the Emperor himself.
Perhaps it wasn't that she had grown, but that she had been changed by someone without realizing it.
The old her was a martial artist who saw only the bright and clear, never the dark and devious. Now, she had learned to appreciate even a gloomy and cunning person like Lu Songping.
She didn't know if this change was good or bad; she only felt that if she returned to Quecheng and encountered that wretch Xu Shu again, her combat prowess might be even greater, and she would never suffer a loss again.
If she lived to return, that is.
This western expedition was split into three routes. The northern route was led by Prince Xuanyuan, Su Che, leading the main force of the Guangyao Battalion to surround Bijiang from Famang Ridge. The middle route was led by the Marquis of Qinghuai, Xiao Zhun, leading the Subei army west from Tongcheng to strike directly at Sanmu Pass. Only the route taken by the Emperor himself was unpredictable.
Legend had it that the Tiancheng Black Feather Battalion only accompanied the Imperial Carriage, yet the Bai clan had found Black Feather arrowheads in the Sanmu Pass canyon. This had greatly influenced the Bai clan’s judgment of the situation in Bijiang, causing them to miss the opportunity to block Tiancheng’s advance into eastern Suyan. Although the Bai clan had later used moles planted within Tiancheng to break the Guangyao Battalion’s flanking maneuver, the seemingly deadlocked battle had actually progressed toward an irreversible state.
For the Bai clan, the disparity in military strength was vast. If they could not quickly turn the tide in a short period, it was only a matter of time before Tiancheng drove deep into their heartland and annexed Bijiang.
It was all just a matter of time. Unless they could directly slay the one on the throne.
The Emperor, situated in the heart of the game, could not fail to understand this. Although camping on the west bank of the Tianmu River offered a geographical advantage, he seemed to have no other defenses. To coordinate with the deployment after the destruction of the dam in three days, he had even transferred the majority of his forces away from the royal tent, leaving only half of the Black Feather Battalion and less than twenty thousand troops from other battalions.
Years later, when Xiao Nanhui dreamed of what happened that day, she would still wonder if that man had done it on purpose to lure the enemy out. Or perhaps it was a single oversight in a thousand plans that nearly cost him his life. But another possibility lurked deep in her heart: that the man always carried a terrifying desire for death, which was why he took such risks at every turn. Just as he had when he entered Huozhou in disguise.
Of course, those were thoughts for later.
At this moment, Xiao Nanhui had no time to ponder such questions. She was swept up in the immense anxiety of an impending storm, her body mechanically executing the deployment orders issued by Lu Songping.
The Tiancheng army used flags to change formations on the march, sounding horns only in times of crisis or attack. At this moment, the area for a hundred miles outside the camp was still shrouded in thick fog, pitch black and impossible to see through. Such a situation was a massive test for all Tiancheng generals and soldiers.
Lu Songping’s face, gloomy to the point of appearing sickly, now possessed a convincing sense of reliability in the mist. After all, everyone believed that to deal with a cunning and perverse enemy, one had to field an even more cunning and perverse general.
Currently, the most cunning person in the camp was on the throne; the second was Lu Songping.
During the rebellion in Tongcheng, Lu Songping had set aside his rank as battalion commander to stabilize the situation in the guise of a provincial governor, which was sufficient proof of his ability to control a situation. Rumor had it that the Black Feather Battalion was the most flexible and adaptable, with as many as eighty-one methods of formation and deployment. They were equally adept at offense and defense, effective in both small and large numbers, making them the most difficult unit to contend with.
However, the current situation was quite dire. The Black Feather Battalion consisted mostly of archers, skilled in long-range combat but not in close quarters. They required advantageous terrain and a clear field of vision to achieve victory.
The current heavy fog was no different from a massive handicap to the archers' abilities. This didn't even account for the flat terrain around Suyan; once a pursuit began, they could easily be wiped out by the Bijiang cavalry.
And if they sent for help now, the nearest Tiancheng army would take at least three days to arrive.
By then, the Emperor’s bones would be cold.
Lu Songping understood this, and every Tiancheng soldier understood it as well.
Therefore, this battle could not be lost.
Even if they fought to the last man, they had to defend the throne.
Xiao Nanhui’s position was that of the very last person beside that throne.
In order not to miss a single sound, everything that could make noise had to remain silent.
The bronze tripod water clock had been stopped; only an arm-length stick of time-keeping incense burned quietly, its slender wisps of blue smoke curling in the air, teasing the sensitive, taut nerves of those present.
Time continued to trickle away, yet through the gaps in the carriage, the sky outside was no different from an hour ago—still as black as ink.
Xiao Nanhui sat in the carriage, her palms clutching Pingxian and slick with cold sweat.
In the past, on the battlefield, she had always been at the front, seeking victory amidst blades and arrows; she had never been timid or afraid. But sitting in this carriage now, she felt an unprecedented terror.
The responsibility on her shoulders was too great. If she made a mistake, she would pay a price far exceeding any estimate—the heaviest price of all. And that price was perhaps more than her life alone could bear.
"What are you thinking about?"
The Emperor’s voice rang out deeply in the darkness.
For some reason, hearing that slightly raspy voice now gave Xiao Nanhui a sense of peace.
The voice told her that although she was in the darkness, someone was there with her.
She took a breath, trying to make her voice sound less tense.
"Answering Your Majesty, I am waiting for the light of dawn."
A rustling sound came from the darkness—the sound of fine oak silk stretching and rubbing.
She felt a warm presence draw near, stopping a few inches from the right side of her face, seemingly looking out the window.
"Yesterday, dawn broke at the end of the Hour of the Ox. The hour of sunrise has long since passed."
Xiao Nanhui turned her head slightly. Su Wei’s face appeared even more inscrutable in the gloom, like the dark shadow in her distant dream.
"Today, there will be no dawn."
In the pitch-black sky, neither sun, moon, nor stars could be seen.
The sun had been eaten.
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
雁翅营 | Yanchi Battalion | Literally "Goose-wing Battalion," a unit in the Tiancheng army.
宿岩 | Suyan | A location characterized by dry, rocky terrain.
天沐河 | Tianmu River | A river near the camp.
烜远王 | Prince Xuanyuan | Title of Su Che.
夙彻 | Su Che | The name of Prince Xuanyuan.
垡莽岭 | Famang Ridge | A geographical feature/mountain ridge.
三目关 | Sanmu Pass | "Three-eye Pass," a strategic mountain pass.
黑羽营 | Black Feather Battalion | The elite imperial guard unit.
白氏 | Bai Clan | The ruling family of the enemy state (Nanqiang/Bijiang).
丑初 | Start of the Hour of the Ox | Approximately 1:00 AM.
寅时末 | End of the Hour of the Tiger | Approximately 5:00 AM.
右将军 | General of the Right | Xiao Nanhui's current military title.
左将军 | General of the Left | Su Pingchuan's military title.
平弦 | Pingxian | Xiao Nanhui's weapon.
柞缎 | Oak Silk | A type of high-quality wild silk fabric.
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