Chapter 92

After three rounds of wine, everyone gradually dropped their pretenses and inhibitions. Growing more boisterous, Lu Chuan even declared, “Truth is, this old man knew he wouldn’t survive. I’d long found him and his whole group an eyesore. He was clearly just some fallen noble who somehow won Chancellor Chen’s favor. Speaking of which, Chancellor Chen is from your Chen family—surely even the Chen family found him hard to stomach? Come to think of it, you lot probably ought to thank me…”

Chen Yan kept her eyes lowered, smiling faintly, merely feigning drunkenness. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Huo Pingsheng, who had risen unsteadily, still holding the short sword bestowed by Her Majesty.

Her heart skipped a beat involuntarily. But Huo Pingsheng didn’t head in their direction—she moved towards the door.

Lu Chuan tugged at Chen Yan. “Who’re you looking at? Who is she?”

Chen Yan replied, “My young sister. Brought her along to broaden her horizons.”

Lu Chuan chuckled. “What’s the point of coming to Mobei to lick blood off a blade? Better to stay in the capital. At most, spend a few years as a clerk in a commandery… even being a petty official isn’t bad—lots of squeeze.”

Chen Yan watched Huo Pingsheng’s departing back. “That’s exactly the plan.”

Huo Pingsheng stepped out the door and into the night.

Once she reached the shadows, much of the drunken expression on Huo Pingsheng’s face faded. She hadn’t actually drunk, substituting water instead. Because of this, suppressing her fury had taken far more effort than she’d imagined, leaving her palms deeply indented from her fingernails.

Yet her mind was unprecedentedly calm. Her gaze swept through the darkness, quickly locating the person who had drawn her out. It was a short, somewhat diminutive man who looked to be in his thirties, with only a faint wisp of a beard on his chin. During the banquet, while everyone else had seemed gleeful, only he had hunched there, not daring to speak. The others had also regarded him with undisguised disdain.

After drinking only a short while, he’d been driven out of the earthen fortification. Huo Pingsheng followed him, watching as he limped to the base of a low wall. She hid in the shadows and saw him scan around furtively. After confirming he was alone, he moved a small earthenware jar aside.

The night was as thick as black ink; Huo Pingsheng couldn’t see clearly what lay beneath the jar. But when the man hunched down and disappeared, she understood—there was a hole there.

Huo Pingsheng’s eyes widened: A deserter?

The punishment for desertion under this dynasty’s laws was severe. If caught, not only would he himself be executed according to military law—his corpse hung at the camp gate—but his relatives to three degrees of kinship would be enslaved, and even the soldiers of his unit would be executed together.

Naturally, Huo Pingsheng did not wish to see such a thing happen. She approached and saw a small hole beneath the wall, barely the size of a dog’s entrance. She ducked down; being relatively slender, she just managed to squeeze through.

Emerging outside, the boundless Gobi desert, merging with the sky, stretched before her. The wind of Mobei, swirling yellow sand, struck her face. Looking around, the wilderness extended endlessly in all directions. But when she squinted and lifted her head, a crescent moon hung askew in the sky, and the star-filled heavens shimmered like a rippling river.

Mobei was truly beautiful.

The thought surfaced in Huo Pingsheng’s mind.

At the same time, she spotted the figure, stumbling hastily through the night. He seemed to have seen her too, running frantically yet tripping and staggering. Huo Pingsheng gave chase immediately. Perhaps thanks to her height and long legs, she caught up after just a few strides. She pinned the man’s hand behind his back and pressed him into the sand, saying in a deep voice, “Still running?”

The man hurriedly gasped, “I wasn’t—wasn’t running! I discovered military intelligence.”

Huo Pingsheng said, “If you had intelligence, why not report it? Why sneak out alone in the dead of night while everyone is drunk?”

“This… this… Little General, I truly didn’t deceive you. If you don’t believe me, come see for yourself.”

Huo Pingsheng hauled him up, drew her sword, and pressed it against his waist. “Fine. Walk. What’s your name?”

“This humble one… is called Ge Tong.”

“Why do the others in camp treat you poorly? Why do they bully you?”

Ge Tong murmured, “I used to be in Lieutenant General Huo’s unit. That day, because I was wounded, I couldn’t go…”

“That’s the only reason?”

“…Are you from the Chen family?”

Huo Pingsheng raised an eyebrow. “What does whether I’m from the Chen family have to do with this?”

Ge Tong said nothing. Huo Pingsheng declared, “I’m not. And I don’t particularly like the Chen family.”

Ge Tong carefully stole a glance at Huo Pingsheng, likely trying to judge whether she was telling the truth. Huo Pingsheng snapped impatiently, “Don’t dawdle! Or I’ll drag you back and report you as a deserter.”

Ge Tong hurriedly said, “I merely offered some cups of wine in tribute to General Huo. I was discovered, that’s all.”

Huo Pingsheng’s heart softened almost immediately, and she now viewed the man before her differently. But she didn’t show it, just sneering coldly, “Hmph. Boring.”

Ge Tong muttered softly under his breath, “General Huo was a good man…”

After saying this, he hushed and crouched low. Huo Pingsheng also lowered her body. They walked another stretch. Suddenly, amid the wind, a snapping and fluttering sound arose, like thick fabric being lashed by the wind. Huo Pingsheng crossed over a sand dune and looked out. In the distance, layers upon layers of shadows were visible—an encampment of tents.

She couldn’t make out any further details; it was too far and too dark.

Huo Pingsheng kept her voice low. “How do you know these are Ghost Barbarian tents?”

Ge Tong replied, “They raise warhorses, have weapons, have provisions—clearly an army…”

He paused, then, steeling himself as if making a resolution, added, “This is Ke Lanwei’s army. Last time, General Huo fought them. They were originally preparing to ambush Dragon Head Fortress under cover of darkness and seize it. They didn’t expect to be discovered by General Huo.”

Huo Pingsheng’s eyes blazed as she stared at the tents. She silently repeated the name: Ke Lanwei.

“So… General Huo indeed performed meritoriously?”

“Absolutely. A great merit.”

“Why is she called Ke Lanwei? Is Ke the surname?”

“Their reading is different. But the Ghost Barbarians can’t write, so if anything needs to be written, they must use Wei characters.”

“Good. Ke Lanwei.”

She was desperate to charge into the main tent right then and hack off Ke Lanwei’s head. But knowing she couldn’t, she said coolly, “Let’s head back.”

Ge Tong grunted an acknowledgment, looking as if he wanted to say something but was hesitating. Huo Pingsheng looked down at him. “What is it?”

Ge Tong said, “Are you going to tell General Lu? He won’t believe it. Unless they’re at the gates, he won’t believe it.”

“So that’s why you were planning to run?”

“No, no—truly, I wasn’t.”

Huo Pingsheng smiled faintly. “It’s fine. I won’t tell Lu Chuan. I’ll tell someone else.”

By the time she led Ge Tong back to Dragon Head Fortress, the sky had yet to lighten. Inside the fortress, except for a few sentries on duty, the entire place was in disarray—men and horses sprawled everywhere. One could easily imagine what would happen if the Ghost Barbarians attacked right now. She immediately sought out Chen Yan and explained the situation. Chen Yan handed her a command token, instructing her to ride at full speed and report the matter to the Duke of Ying. But before she left, Chen Yan also stuffed a letter into her hands, telling her that upon reaching Yunyang City, she should first seek out the Marquis of Northern Liang, Song Lin, and give the letter to her.

Huo Pingsheng was puzzled. “The Marquis of Northern Liang? When did you meet her?”

She stared at Chen Yan, noticing her face seemed to redden further. But Chen Yan kept a straight face and said, “I naturally accomplished some things too. Don’t ask any more questions—just do as I said.”

Huo Pingsheng swapped between two horses, riding them in turns, and returned to Yunyang City by evening. She immediately headed for the Song residence.

When she arrived at the gate, she was still fretting over how to announce herself. But the gatekeeper promptly summoned the steward, who in turn led her straight into the reception hall. There, Huo Pingsheng met the Marquis of Northern Liang.

The other woman wore black robes, her figure tall and graceful, her expression a faint, ambiguous smile. Though not widely renowned, by appearance alone, she was a master of imposing presence. After unfolding the letter, the smile on her face deepened. She then said, “Understood. I will act as circumstances warrant.”

She looked at Huo Pingsheng and added, “Did General Chen say anything else?”

Huo Pingsheng shook her head. Song Lin then said, “Then let me give you one piece of instruction: don’t tell the Duke of Ying that you met me. If today… then the time is not yet ripe.”

Huo Pingsheng stared at her, utterly baffled, having no idea what riddle she was speaking in. But with matters still pressing, she swiftly returned to camp and told Luo Xiang about the Ghost Barbarian army encamped beyond the frontier. Luo Xiang was shocked. “You saw this with your own eyes?”

Huo Pingsheng replied, “With my own eyes. The Ghost Barbarians do indeed have offensive intentions and are already massing their forces.”

Luo Xiang immediately left camp that night and went to the Lu mansion. But the Lu household steward said a banquet was being held that evening, that Lu Jingshan had just gone to sleep, and that under no circumstances could he be woken now—calling him would provoke a great fury.

Luo Xiang felt a profound sense of absurdity. Making his way from the entrance to the main hall, he saw a sprawl of soldiers lying every which way along the covered walkways and in the courtyard. Aside from wearing military uniforms, they bore no other sign whatsoever that they were soldiers.

In the end, Luo Xiang barged straight into Lu Jingshan’s room. Lu Jingshan was, as expected, thoroughly drunk, lying on the bed and babbling nonsense. Luo Xiang stepped forward, grabbed Lu Jingshan by the collar, and demanded, “Do you still know how to fight a war?”

Lu Jingshan scowled blearily at Luo Xiang and slurred, “Fight a war? This old man ain’t fighting no war.”

Furious, Luo Xiang hurled him to the floor and stormed out.

Back in his own camp, he mulled it over. He felt the best course for now was to first report this matter to Her Majesty. If the frontier defender, nurtured by years of court funding, was truly such a parasite, it was unimaginable that Mobei still served as the front line against the Ghost Barbarians.

He organized the evidence Chen Yan had brought and wrote a brief letter, deciding to first request an order from Her Majesty granting him authority to act decisively in an emergency.

He revised this letter well into the next afternoon, then entrusted it to a trusted soldier, instructing him to deliver it to Weijing as quickly as possible, regardless of cost.

Meanwhile, Lu Jingshan had presumably sobered up and even came personally to the camp to apologize. Luo Xiang ignored him.

He had already made his resolve: once Her Majesty’s decree arrived, he would strip Lu Jingshan of his armor and throw him into prison. A man like this, regardless of any innate talent, was unfit to bear arms.

However, that evening, as Luo Xiang was reading military texts in his tent and marveling at how convenient Her Majesty’s newly invented paper truly was, Huo Pingsheng entered, leading a junior soldier.

The soldier removed her helmet, revealing a face of outstanding bearing: a visage like jade, delicately drawn brows and eyes. She then saluted and said, “I am Song Lin.”

Luo Xiang was greatly startled. “Marquis of Northern Liang!” In the many days he’d been in Anyang City, the Marquis of Northern Liang had always claimed illness and stayed secluded. This was his first time seeing her.

Song Lin said, “Indeed. I come today to inform you, Duke, that you should be cautious. Lu Jingshan is likely about to make a move against you.”

Luo Xiang refused to believe it. “How would he dare?”

Song Lin handed the helmet she was carrying to Luo Xiang. He took it, about to ask what she meant, when suddenly he froze.

The helmet’s edge bore bloodstains—congealed but not yet dry. Luo Xiang rubbed the inner edge of the armor with his fingers and felt a character carved with a small knife: “Luo.”

“This…” Luo Xiang’s fingers trembled slightly.

Song Lin said, “The letter you sent with your personal soldier was intercepted by Lu Jingshan… I am sorry. He could not be saved.”

Luo Xiang clenched his jaw tightly.

That soldier had followed him for ten years. He had watched him grow from a child into a measured, mature adult. At the start of the year, he’d just married. They had no children yet.

He closed his eyes for a moment, gradually regaining his composure. “So, as long as Lu Jingshan lives, no letter will ever leave Anyang City.”

Song Lin nodded. “Precisely.”

Luo Xiang opened his eyes and looked at her. “These years… you haven’t had it easy either.”

Song Lin said, “If I can avenge a great enmity, what fear is there in lying on brushwood and tasting gall?”

Luo Xiang’s breath caught. “Great enmity? You mean…?”

Song Lin said, “My father and elder brother… both died because Lu Jingshan issued false military orders. I have witnesses to this.”

A bitter laugh escaped Luo Xiang. “Excellent. It seems now, here in Mobei, his hand truly covers the sky.”