What happened?
Liu Kui also called out in inquiry as he ran through the fortress, still faintly lit by dying flames. Bodies were everywhere. The corpses themselves were not frightening – he had seen every manner of grisly death before. He just kept searching through them without pause.
Where were those bastards? Where were they?
Did they escape? Did they run?
“I’ll be watching you! I’ll be watching you!” he shouted again and again, until finally, beneath the city wall, he uncovered a familiar face.
A massive head, eyes wide open, beard twisted in a feral snarl.
With trembling hands, Liu Kui tried to turn him over, but it took effort. It turned out that Xu Bangchui’s arms were locked tightly around a barbarian warrior. A single spear had pierced through them both – or perhaps Xu Bangchui had hurled himself, clutching the man, straight onto the spear.
Liu Kui’s eyes widened, but in the end he could not separate them. He stood up in a daze, glancing all around.
Where were they? Where were they?
Staggering forward, step after uneven step, he muttered blankly:
I’ll be watching you. I’ll be watching you!
I’ll be watching you! Don’t you dare run! Come back! All of you, come back!
With a hoarse roar, Liu Kui jolted upright. The night wind howled around him, and above, the summer sky glittered with stars.
Was it a dream? A dream! Thank heavens!
Hurried footsteps echoed nonstop, mingling with voices shouting, people clamoring, horses neighing, the crackle of fire – every kind of noise filling the air.
“…Have the casualty numbers been tallied yet…”
“…How many of the western bandits have been beheaded…”
“…Burn the corpses on the spot…”
“…Eighteen survivors found… they can still be treated…”
“…Move the wounded out first…”
Casualties! Corpses! Liu Kui’s whole body went cold in an instant – this wasn’t a dream!
He scrambled to his feet and stumbled frantically in one direction.
The corpses had already been gathered into dense heaps. On one side lay only severed heads – those of the western bandits, to be taken back and counted as merit and reward. Though only a day had passed, the stench of blood in the summer heat was everywhere, and swarms of flies buzzed relentlessly above them.
On the other side lay the bodies of his own comrades. Here, of course, the corpses were not dismembered but arranged neatly. A large pit was being dug nearby; before dawn they would all be buried on the spot.
Liu Kui threw himself forward, stumbling as he searched among the dead. One, two, three, four…
From time to time he would collapse heavily to the ground, sit there blankly, then haul himself back up to continue searching – only to sink down again, and rise once more…
“General Liu, what the hell are you doing!” someone finally couldn’t stand it and shouted loudly. “Have you turned into a woman? Haven’t you seen casualties before? Acting all crazy!”
Yes, what was there to go mad about? Every clash with the western bandits cost lives. Anyone on the battlefield lived under the shadow of death at every moment – if you were afraid, you would have run home long ago.
But he wasn’t afraid. How could he be afraid? He was just… just…
“I’ll be watching you! You’re not allowed to run! All of you, get up! Get up!”
By the time daylight broke, amid cheers, the western bandit king’s elite troops had retreated ten miles in one breath.
After a night of fierce fighting, Longgu City’s forces too were on the verge of exhaustion. Taking advantage of the lull, they rearranged their formations, letting the weary vanguard who had borne yesterday’s desperate battle fall back to rest within the encampment.
Around him the snoring was thunderous, yet Zhou Liu-lang could not sleep. The tension of the battle still had his nerves strung tight, his heart pounding like a drum. At last he got up and walked outside.
A troop was just then riding into camp, stirring up a commotion. Soldiers and laborers alike, they looked utterly bedraggled.
They’re back!
Zhou Liu-lang’s heart leapt with joy, and he hurried forward.
The soldiers and laborers were driven to one side. After climbing mountains, skirting roads, and slipping past enemy lines, they had returned utterly exhausted. Some sank straight down to sit on the ground, others simply lay flat where they stood.
Zhou Liu-lang’s gaze swept quickly over them, but he did not see those few men. He did not look more closely either, as if doing so would make it seem he cared too much.
Drawing a deep breath, he lifted his foot and stepped back into the tent.
Inside the command tent, one of the officers was beside himself with excitement.
“…Many thanks, my lord, for sending troops to our aid…”
Master Zhao, though his face could not conceal his own exhaustion, nodded with a touch of admiration.
“You’ve done well. By holding the city and blocking the western bandits, you made possible our timely deployment and arrangements. Otherwise, the consequences would have been unimaginable. Assistant Commander Fang, this time you can truly claim great merit,” he said.
Great merit indeed!
Assistant Commander Fang was all the more elated.
“It is all thanks to your wise instruction, my lord! We only serve the state with loyalty and dare not spare our lives!” he declared, chest thrust out, voice ringing.
The other officers in the tent also voiced their praise.
“Once the battle is over, proper ranks will be assigned, and all due rewards shall be given,” Master Zhao said.
Standing at the entrance of the command tent, Zhou Liu-lang let out a long breath. Good – it wasn’t too late. His expression eased a little, and he turned to leave, but Master Zhao stopped him.
“Come, come, Fang Shijin,” Master Zhao beckoned Zhou Liu-lang over while speaking to Fang Shijin. “You should also thank Commander Zhou. It was he who arranged the cavalry to meet you.”
Assistant Commander Fang quickly bowed to Zhou Liu-lang.
“It was the duty of comrades-in-arms – merely mutual aid. How could I dare accept thanks?” Zhou Liu-lang replied with a salute.
Master Zhao patted Zhou Liu-lang on the shoulder, unable to hide his smile. This time the decision had been the right one. It seemed Inspector Zhou was correct: this Zhou family youngster deserved more attention – especially his suggestions.
At the time, when he heard Inspector Zhou’s instructions, Zhao had been somewhat puzzled. If it were advice from other members of the Zhou clan, that was nothing unusual; after all, the family had served as generals for generations and commanded great respect in the army. But what weight could the words of a green youth newly come to the northwest possibly carry?
Even Inspector Zhou had apparently harbored some doubts, yet had insisted he follow through – saying it was a reminder given by Minister Chen Shao himself before departure.
Minister Chen had spoken of him? This boy had actually been held in esteem by Minister Chen?
So when Zhou Liu-lang proposed sending aid, Zhao took extra heed. And now it had proven right: Assistant Commander Fang had indeed fought the enemy with his men, while Zhao’s support of Fang had won him prestige as well. Thus, the earlier blunder in pre-battle planning and deployment would no longer be raised against him – there was now a defense that could stand.
Close – far too close.
Now what was needed was a single great battle to drive back the western bandits.
“Good! Go rest quickly – another great fight lies ahead!” Master Zhao declared loudly.
The tent resounded with voices shouting in unison, morale surging high.
The troops dared not rest long. In less than half a day, the sound of horns began to blare. Soldiers who had been fast asleep sprang to their feet, while those already awake rushed swiftly to rejoin their units.
At the beat of drums and the call of gongs, the long-serpent formation slowly took shape. Yet before the ranks were fully assembled, the enemy cavalry had already charged.
Arrows fell like rain, drums thundered like stormclouds. As soon as the sky-darkening volley of arrows ceased, from the swaying lines surged forth hardened cavalry wielding axes, sabers, and spears, hacking straight into the enemy ranks.
Shouts roared to the heavens, and the stench of blood filled the air.
Zhou Liu-lang led his unit into the fray. All those childhood tales, the sweat-drenched drills in the training yard, the stern guidance of elder brothers and comrades – everything had been for this day, all converging upon this very moment.
He swung his axe and saber, each strike bursting into a mist of blood.
By the time the sun sank once more in the west, the western bandits had fled without a trace, leaving only countless corpses strewn across the mountains and fields. Squads of soldiers, singing triumphant songs, brandished their blades and axes, lopping the heads from the fallen. The ground before their eyes was stained entirely red.
This was the color of victory and reward – untainted by luck, unsoiled by falsehood.
When daylight returned again, the heavy tension of battle had lifted. Long winding columns of troops appeared outside Longgu City’s gates. Once word spread that the danger had passed, the whole city’s people poured out to welcome them, eager also to see the spoils of war.
Cart after cart of ghastly severed heads, cart after cart of captured banners – at the city gates the crowds swelled into a sea of people, their clamor unending.
Zhou Liu-lang, however, took no part in the revelry. Wounded, he had entered the city ahead of the others.
“Bear with it, officer,” the army doctor said.
As he spoke, the arrowhead was cut out with a knife and tossed into a metal tray with a sharp clang.
Zhou Liu-lang’s body trembled; he bit down hard on a wooden stick, watching as the doctor sprinkled medicinal powder on the wound and had a laborer wrap it with white cloth.
“A few days of rest, my lord, and you’ll be fine,” the doctor said, wiping the sweat from his brow before bowing. “I’ll take my leave.”
After every battle the wounded were many, and the doctors were kept endlessly busy.
Zhou Liu-lang nodded. Just as he was about to rise, a commotion sounded from the adjoining room.
“What’s going on?” the doctor asked quickly.
“A wounded soldier is making a scene, shouting he wants to die,” a laborer replied.
“Dragged alive out of a pile of corpses, and he still wants to throw his life away – doesn’t know how to cherish fortune,” a few of Zhou Liu-lang’s attendants muttered.
“He says all his brothers are dead, so he doesn’t want to live either,” the laborer explained. “He was one of the garrison soldiers from Linguan Fort.”
Linguan Fort had sent timely warning and, though outnumbered, had resisted the western bandits’ elite for nearly an hour and a half. Of almost two thousand men, fewer than three hundred survived. They had been nearly annihilated, but their sacrifice bought the time needed for proper redeployment and defense.
When those present heard the wounded man was from there, no one said another word.
“I’ll go take a look,” Zhou Liu-lang suddenly said.
Before anyone could react, he had already strode out quickly.
“My lord, your wound hasn’t even been bandaged yet,” a laborer called after him, staring at the strip of white cloth that had been yanked from his hands.
The infirmary was packed with the wounded. Cries of pain and weeping echoed everywhere, the air thick with the stench of blood and rot.
The commotion inside had already subsided, but the laborers and doctors had been driven outside, left standing helplessly as they looked back toward the room.
“…What’s the point of this…”
“…Once you step onto the battlefield, life and death are already uncertain…”
“…Try to think more openly…”
“…Why not just knock him out…”
Outside the room, people murmured in low voices, while Zhou Liu-lang stood behind them, feeling as though he could hardly breathe.
“Make way, make way – Commander Zhou is here,” his attendants called out loudly.
At once the crowd parted.
The great battle had already been won, and everywhere people were cheering in celebration – especially the officers. For one of rank to come at such a moment to visit the wounded was truly a rare sight.
The doorway opened, but Zhou Liu-lang hesitated, unable to lift his foot.
“My lord, please,” the army doctor urged.
After a battle, the wounded often sank into despair; injuries and disability easily bred depression. At such times, if an officer came to comfort and encourage them, it could be of great help.
Zhou Liu-lang stepped forward into the room.
There was never enough space for the wounded. This place had once been a woodshed, now cleared out so that this one soldier could be placed here.
The man lay on a plank, one arm raised to cover his face. Blood still seeped steadily from his wounds – not only his arm, but his legs and head as well.
“This won’t do at all! With injuries this serious, and after all this time, how has he still not been treated?” the doctor cried out, hurrying forward.
But as soon as he drew near, the soldier – who had seemed senseless before – suddenly lashed out, shoving the doctor away.
“Get out! If I want to die, what business is it of yours?” he shouted, his eyes bloodshot. “All my brothers are dead – why the hell should I keep living?”
Zhou Liu-lang stared at him, his head ringing.
“Fan Jianglin,” he rasped hoarsely, “tell me – who do you mean, all dead?”
