Where Immortals Once Walked

He still did not know about the murders back in town, but he recognized Hong Chenglue at a glance. Surprise flickered across his face, then he asked, “Hong Chenglue? What are you doing all the way out here?”

Hong Chenglue smiled and said, “Someone asked me to look for you.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Liu Yalin.”

Liu Yalin was the name of the very first young man to lose his head on the execution platform. Patrol Officer Chen froze, then snapped, fury twisting his features, “What nonsense are you spouting?!”

“He said that he’d walk slower. That way, you can catch up to him on the road.”

One of Patrol Officer Chen’s men snapped, “Watch your mouth!” He lifted his blade, clearly intending to smack this tall man across the face with it.

The next instant, he went flying backward.

A tree with a trunk that was as thick as a bowl, a little more than three meters away, snapped clean in half when the man’s body slammed into it.

He had already vomited what looked like three liters of blood while still in midair. When he hit the ground, he did not move again. His chest had caved inward, leaving a crater just the right size for a fist.

Patrol Officer Chen’s other subordinate was far from loyal or brave. At the sight of this, he instinctively backed up two paces before shouting, “Boss, careful—”

He had barely opened his mouth when something whistled through the air toward him, swelling larger and larger in his vision until it smashed into his face.

The man toppled straight over on his back.

The object that felled him was a blade in its scabbard. It was the very same blade that had executed the first youth.

Only now did fear pierce Patrol Officer Chen’s anger. He yanked his waist saber free and shouted, voice cracking, “What are you doing?! I was enforcing the law! Those three were rightly sentenced to their deaths!”

Hong Chenglue’s eyes were icy as he said, “In the sixth month of this year, when you were sent to suppress bandits, you achieved precisely nothing. In the end, you dragged in innocent people from Jiuling Gully to fake your head count and claim military merit. Were those people rightly sentenced as well?”

“No such thing ever happened! Don’t you slan—”

There was a soft hiss, and Patrol Officer Chen’s words were cut off. He stared at Hong Chenglue, eyes bulging, mouth still open as he tried to utter the next syllable.

Hong Chenglue did not bother to answer him. He simply turned his back and started toward the carriage.

He had taken three steps when Patrol Officer Chen’s upper body slid diagonally off the lower half and thumped to the road.

From his left chest across to his right ribs, he had been cleaved straight through. The cut surface was smooth as a mirror, neat as if traced by a ruler.

Patrol Officer Chen could still see his own legs, still standing, still rooted to the ground. He let out a scream that tore at the sky, raw and bestial. Blood fountained from the halved torso, soaking the sandy road beneath him in an instant.

Being cut in half at the waist did not always kill a man on the spot. If his life was strong enough, he might linger for the time it took to brew a cup of tea, writhing in agony until his last breath finally left him.

Hong Chenglue climbed back into the carriage, glanced once through the window, and said, “Let’s go.”

A casual kill, a simple test of the blade, and a clean, bloody line drawn under that chapter of his past.

Wu Qing slapped his palms together, unable to hold back his admiration. “General Hong, your treasured saber hasn’t aged a day.” He had watched without blinking, yet he still had no idea when Hong Chenglue had drawn or kept his weapon.

Hong Chenglue chuckled. “Do I seem that old?”

With the shackles of his oath gone, he felt nothing but ease from head to toe.

This, this is what it means to feel alive.

Compared to this, the last few years had been nothing but a shambling half-life.

An hour later, the carriage rolled into Wu Family Manor.

Despite being referred to as a manor, the place was built more like a stronghold. It lay tucked away beside a forest tract, off from the main road. Unless a traveler got seriously lost, no one would just so happen to pass by.

All around the perimeter stood a continuous ring of cheval-de-frise—rows of sharpened stakes angled outward, meant to keep bandits and raiders away from its walls.

Wu Qing stepped out and called a greeting. Soon, men from inside the manor came out to drag the barriers aside and let the carriage through.

Hong Chenglue dismounted. Under Wu Qing’s guidance, he first saw to settling his wife into a nearby wooden house.

The house was small, but everything it needed was there. Compared to their shabby dwelling back in Bailu Town, it was of an entirely different level. Even the brazier at the foot of the bed was set into the floor, framed by a neat ring of stone to keep it safe and steady.

Though the cluster of a dozen or so wooden houses seemed quiet, Hong Chenglue could tell that every one of them was occupied. There were eyes behind those shuttered windows, ears listening in the stillness.

Once his wife was comfortably settled, Wu Qing led him to the largest house in the center.

When the door swung open, more than ten people rose to their feet all at once.

Wu Qing made the introductions. “Everyone, this is the General Hong my master has long hoped to invite.” Then he turned and said to Hong Chenglue, “General, these are the leaders of the units we’ve slipped into Xia Province.”

Both sides exchanged proper courtesies and greetings.

As he looked around, Hong Chenglue also noticed a blue-robed scholar sitting quietly in one corner. The man wore a mask that hid his face from nose to chin. He neither spoke nor stood to salute. A brown-furred monkey crouched at his side.

Whatever breed it was, it was larger and sturdier than a typical monkey. It rubbed its hands before the brazier to warm them, then used its deft little hands to push several chestnuts closer to the fire to roast. Its bright, intelligent eyes reflected the flames. It was hard to tell which of the pair seemed more unusual—the masked scholar or his eerie, clever companion.

Once everyone was seated, Wu Qing said, “Three of our detachments have been intercepted by Xia Province troops, but they’ve exaggerated their victories tenfold and trumpet them everywhere they go. The people of Xia Province have been thoroughly fooled. They think this new governor-general has brought a new era. Ah, right, the new provincial governor has already taken office. His name is He Chunhua. Marshal Nian has an irreconcilable blood feud with him. He Chunhua and his men killed his son. The news has already reached Marshal Nian. His orders to us are to cut He Chunhua’s supply lines. Spring is already upon us. If Zhao Pan’s army makes it through this season, then once the summer harvest comes in, it will be even harder to push the front south.”

Even without his spelling it out, everyone present knew that their campaign in the northern region of Yuan had fallen far short of expectations.

Wu Qing turned to Hong Chenglue. “General, my master has recommended you to Marshal Nian. The marshal hopes you will take command of our next moves.”

Hopes? Nian Zanli probably just wants to see my worth. Hong Chenglue inclined his head. “Very well. Do we have a sand table?”

Someone immediately produced a square box and unfolded it across the table.

Clearly, this was a magical artifact. Folded, it looked like no more than a tea tray. Once spread open, it covered almost the entire tabletop. Sand flowed and rose of its own accord, rapidly taking shape until a miniature map of Xia Province lay before them—mountains and rivers, valleys and passes all formed from tiny grains of sand.

Hong Chenglue asked, “Where exactly did we lose those three battles?”

Wu Qing snapped a twig in half and used one segment as a pointer, tapping the map three times at different spots. “Our three roving cavalry units were ambushed here, here, and here. The notice posted by the authorities in Xia Province claims that the winning generals, Zhao Qinghe and Wu Shaoyi, are both under He Chunhua’s banner. As far as I know, Wu Shaoyi was originally one of Hong Xiangqian’s men. He later surrendered and entered He Chunhua’s service. I don’t have much on Zhao Qinghe.”

“It makes no sense that troops from Xia Province could defeat us. Their combat strength is abysmal,” said Hong Chenglue. He had lived in Xia Province for years. He knew exactly what sort of men the local soldiers were. Inflated rosters, fake headcounts, empty pay, every kind of petty theft and graft—they were experts at those. But when it came to fighting for real, they were useless.

At his words, all of the senior officers present looked a little awkward.

“Last time, we lost mainly because we were caught off guard.” He had already put the pieces together. “If we’re sending out cavalry units, three hundred men per detachment is too many. We need smaller units. Otherwise, their movements are too obvious. Everyone sees them coming and going, and the locals report them to the authorities.”

This was not a broad steppe or grasslands where large cavalry formations could vanish into rolling grass. Fields, villages, and hills carved up Xia Province. Three hundred men needed food, water, fodder, and rest. No matter how you moved them, they left footprints everywhere.

“How do you plan to reorganize us?”

“We have more than one base in Xia Province, don’t we?” Hong Chenglue asked. “Then we break our forces down into pieces. No more than ten men per team. They’ll pose as merchants and travelers, moving between towns and villages to gather information. The rest will remain in our safe houses and avoid wandering around.”

One of the leaders spoke up, “I’ve heard the new provincial governor has some skill. He’s gathered quite a bit of supplies and keeps sending them to the front without stopping.” If not, Marshal Nian would not have been so irritated.

“They already sent one batch ten days ago. The convoy passed through Bailu Town and still had two wagons of grain stolen by a few common villagers. That alone tells you how lax the guards were,” Hong Chenglue said, tapping several points on the sand table. “No matter which road they take first, any grain from the south headed to the north will have to pass at least one of these three areas: Bailu Town, Xinhuang, or Jiazi Pass.”

Wu Qing nodded. “That’s right. It was at Xinhuang that He Chunhua’s troops struck our men and saved that batch of grain.”

The senior officers traded looks. “So we lie in wait at all three?” Even if we only pick one, there’s a good chance we’ll be wrong.

“Exactly,” Hong Chenglue said calmly. “When we lack reliable intelligence, the stupid method is often the best one. How many men do we have left in total?”

Wu Qing reported a number.

“Good, then we split our strength between Bailu Town and Xinhuang, and give up on Jiazi Pass. We’ll send scouts disguised as merchants into both places, and this time we’ll be the ones springing the ambush when the grain convoy comes.”

One of the senior officers frowned. “We’re giving up on Jiazi Pass?”

“I’ve been to Jiazi Pass. The road there is in poor shape, neglected year after year. It’s hard to travel, the defenses are thin, and bandits are thick. If I were the grain transport officer, I wouldn’t choose it. By contrast, the roads to Bailu Town and Xinhuang are straight and well-maintained, and the two are only about twenty kilometers apart, so they can call for reinforcements if trouble comes.” Hong Chenglue tapped both spots on the sand table. “Our manpower is limited. We need to concentrate our forces. We’ll focus on the routes through Bailu Town and Xinhuang.”

The assembled officers answered in unison, “Understood.”

Hong Chenglue had seen too many campaigns to harbor illusions. He knew very well that as a newcomer parachuted into their ranks, his opinions might not carry much weight at first. And in war, what plan came with guarantees?

Win, and whatever you had proposed had been brilliant from the start.

Lose, and it had all been foolishness.

For now, all he could do was lay out what experience had taught him, then let the battlefield prove who was right.

They continued discussing details, assigning units to locations, covering contingencies as best they could.

Two days later, Wu Qing rushed out of the stronghold and hurried back in, going straight to Hong Chenglue. He reported, “Our eyes in Dunyu have sent word. Over nine hundred grain wagons from the south have already reached Qingping Township.”

The war council ran late that night. When it finally broke up, darkness had pooled deep outside the cabin.

As a merchant, Wu Qing’s responsibilities lay in logistics and information. He would not personally take part in the fighting.

He was just about to head off to check the condition of the horses and tally their medicines when a young soldier came jogging up. “Lord Wu, General Hong’s lady requests your presence.”

Wu Qing blinked and pointed at himself. “She’s looking for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is something lacking in her lodgings?”

“I don’t know.”

At this hour, Hong Chenglue was still in the central cabin, presiding over the council. After a brief hesitation, Wu Qing nodded and headed toward Hong Chenglue’s residence.

The door was slightly ajar. He knocked lightly. “Madame?”

A’Jin’s voice answered from within, “Please, come in.”

When Wu Qing stepped inside, he saw A’Jin reclining against the headboard, covered with a quilt. A pillow was propped behind her waist. At the foot of the bed, the brazier glowed red-hot, turning the small room cozy.

Between the steady heat and the regular meals, her complexion was already notably better than it had been during their flight from Bailu Town. A little color had returned to her cheeks, and there was a spark of life in her eyes once more.

“Madame, is something lacking?”

“No. Everything is quite good,” A’Jin said softly. “But I heard that the supplies for this entire force are all managed by Mr. Wu?”

“Yes. I’m responsible for the food, drink, and basic needs of several hundred men.” He gave a wry smile. If pies started falling from the sky, I’d be the first to doubt it.

“I’d like to trouble Mr. Wu to find something for me,” A’Jin said. “I heard from my husband that in the past, Beijia’s scouts and agents working behind enemy lines all carried this item on their persons. You must have one as well, don’t you, Mr. Wu?”

After she named what she wanted, Wu Qing’s face drained of color. He shook his head so hard it was almost frantic. “Absolutely not. I can’t. If I dared give you that, General Hong would gut me alive.”

“It’s to guard against emergencies,” A’Jin said with a quiet sigh. “If there’s hope of better days—if there’s even a chance I might recover—why would I think of such things?”

No matter how she explained, Wu Qing refused to relent. His answer remained the same.

A’Jin glanced toward the window. The sky outside had gone black. If Hong Chenglue finished his council and came back now, he would surely notice something was off. Her expression turned cold as she said, “If you won’t help me, then I’ll tell my husband that you slighted me, that you insulted me behind my back, and threatened to throw me into a mountain gully.”