Ahead was the ancestral hall. Great smears of blood coated the outer walls, and several corpses sat propped against the foot of the wall, their chests and bellies pierced by more than one sharp arrow. The blood beneath their bodies had merged into a single pool, within which a long intestine lay congealed.
Every single arrow had white fletching.
The ancestral hall was pitch-black inside. Something seemed to have been placed on the table where the maps were kept, and a figure stood leaning motionless against the wall.
Wei Yuan slowed his pace. He wanted to go inside to see, yet he felt a twinge of dread. Sudden, hurried footsteps rang out behind him. Wei Yuan spun around in an instant, Dao power already coursing into his spear.
The person rushing over was unexpectedly Sun Chao'en. The county magistrate wore armor only on his lower body; his torso was bare and wrapped tight in bandages, through which thick blood still seeped outward. Sun Chao'en's face was pale and his Dao light dim—it was obvious at a glance that he had suffered grievous injuries. In his hand he dragged a person wearing an officer's armor, whose helmet was gone, hair disheveled, stumbling as Sun Chao'en dragged him along.
Wei Yuan recognized this man as well—it was Wang Delu, the commandant in charge of the garrison troops.
Behind Sun Chao'en followed the assistant magistrate, the registrar, and other officials. These civil officials were all clad in armor at this moment, and every one of them bore wounds. Only Wang Delu looked disheveled and covered in blood, but in truth he was barely injured at all.
Seeing Wei Yuan, Sun Chao'en said nothing, leading the way into the ancestral hall. Wei Yuan followed close behind him.
The moment they entered the hall, an overwhelming stench of blood assaulted their senses, so foul it made one retch!
Blood was everywhere in the dim hall, as if someone had sprayed fresh gore into every single corner. In the open space inside, severed heads were piled layer upon layer into a pyramid that was broad at the bottom and narrow at the top! The heads of all three hundred militiamen were here!
Upon the map on the table lay the corpse of a tiny child, appearing no more than two or three years old, its chest and belly already sliced open. A short dagger was plunged into the table beside the corpse. The dagger's hilt was studded with multiple jewels and exceptionally ornate, in the style of the personal daggers favored by Northern Liao nobles.
A figure stood beside the table, leaning against the wall, firmly pinned there by a longsword thrust through his chest. Though the robe was completely dyed a dark purple-black, one could still faintly tell it was the lower half of a scholar's robe.
He too was headless.
Sun Chao'en walked up to the corpse and pressed his hand down, forcing Wang Delu to his knees before it. Wang Delu jumped in terror, then immediately began kowtowing without end, babbling repeatedly, "Master Fang! It was this humble one who was greedy for life and afraid to die! It was my fault! I deserve to die! I am guilty! In your great generosity, please spare me this once..."
Seeing that headless corpse, Wei Yuan's mind went entirely blank. Deep in his heart, an invisible, inexplicable, yet immense and chilling sorrow slowly sprouted and spread. Only with great effort could he manage to speak, his voice raspy beyond his own recognition: "What happened?"
Assistant Magistrate Ren Youwei spoke in a low, rapid voice: "A surprise raid by the Liao barbarians. A full five hundred cavalry came, among them one hundred Snow Eagle Cavalry. The Snow Eagle Cavalry are the personal guards of the Agula tribal chieftain, marked by their white helmets and white-fletched arrows. They appeared suddenly, with no warning whatsoever. Originally they intended to assault the county seat. Seeing the town unprepared, Master Fang stepped in to intercept them, first shooting down more than a dozen riders, then charging out of the town to fight, slaying dozens more."
Hearing this, doubt surfaced in Wei Yuan's mind. Charging into the ranks of hundreds of Liao cavalry and cutting down dozens of riders in the field—how could Fang Hetong possess such combat strength?
Ren Youwei continued: "...The Liao barbarians were furious, detaching a contingent to besiege Shayang Village. Because of Master Fang's diversion, the county had enough time to muster soldiers and militiamen to defend the town, preventing the Liao barbarians from taking it by storm. Seeing no hope of breaching the town, the Liao barbarians flew into a rage from shame and turned to besiege the three Shayang villages instead. By Liao barbaric custom, that meant slaughtering the villages!"
"At that time, the military redoubt stayed put and made no move. Seeing the dire crisis, Lord Sun disregarded everything to lead troops out of the town to the rescue. In the fierce battle, he was unfortunately struck through the chest by an arrow, falling into a coma from critical wounds. After Lord Sun collapsed, Commandant Wang took command of the troops. Greedy for life and terrified of death, he led the soldiers in retreat back to the county seat, hiding like a turtle in its shell and refusing to venture out. He watched helplessly as Master Fang exhausted his strength and died, and as the Liao barbarians slaughtered all three villages and built this pyramid of heads..."
"After his Lordship awakened and learned what had happened, he seized Wang Delu and rushed straight here."
Wei Yuan listened numbly. From the corner of his eye, he suddenly caught a flickering glimmer. The dagger plunged beside the little girl's corpse was giving off distinct magic power. Wei Yuan walked over and pulled the dagger free. The blade was almost entirely coated in dried blood, and then a scene unfolded before Wei Yuan's eyes.
It was before a village fortress, seemingly one of the villages behind Shayang Village. Hundreds of Liao cavalrymen, scimitars in hand, were driving the villagers out of the walled settlement one by one. On the open ground stood a group of riders distinctly different from the rest. Every one of them rode a white horse, mounts at least two chi taller than ordinary Liao horses. Their scabbards and armor were white, and the fletchings of their arrows were white as well.
Among the countless white horses stood a remarkably majestic black stallion, without a single blemish of color across its body. Mounted upon it was an exceptionally tall young Liao man, the sides of his head shaved bald and the rest of his hair braided into dozens of small plaits tied together into a topknot. His skin was bronze with a metallic sheen, while his nose bore a resemblance to that of humans. By human standards, he was quite handsome.
Mounted on his horse, he looked down with cold disdain upon the villagers being herded out. The villagers were all old people, women, or children; able-bodied men were rare. As they were driven into the square, a Liao cavalryman rolled over a cartwheel and stood it upright in the center of the clearing.
This was a Liao custom: when massacring an enemy village, anyone taller than a cartwheel was put to death, while those who did not exceed it were spared. This custom derived from an ancient nomadic hunting tradition: when facing large herds of game, they killed only the adults and spared the young, so that after several years, new herds would be available for hunting.
The wheel had been found in the village, somewhat shorter than a Liao wheel, so only four or five small children could survive. Had it been a Liao wheel, two more might have lived.
A woman holding a child came before the wheel. It was measured, and the top of the wheel barely surpassed the child's head. She wept with joy, pushing the child forcefully toward the other side of the clearing. The child did not understand what was happening and cried out, trying to come back, only to be struck hard across the face by the woman and shoved away once more.
Moments later, everyone had been measured. A total of five small children stood on the other side of the clearing. In fact, one of the children was already slightly taller than the wheel, but the Liao cavalry seemed not to mind that minor detail. The mothers on the opposite side were no longer afraid, calmly prepared to meet their deaths.
Everything was ready; with a single order, the butcher's knives would fall.
The young Liao man on the black horse dismounted and walked up to the wheel. He looked at the gathered villagers with a cruel, cunning gaze, like a predator toying with its prey. A savage grin spread across his face, and he said, "The wheel is placed wrong!"
With that, he kicked the wheel over!
"Anyone taller than the wheel—kill!"
The Northern Liao cavalry raised their blades and struck down, first cutting down those five small children. The villagers on the other side erupted into commotion. Several mothers wailed frantically like madwomen, desperately lunging toward their children lying in pools of blood, but they too were cut down immediately after. In the blink of an eye, everyone lay dead in pools of blood, and the Liao riders began severing their heads one by one.
In the vision, the young Liao man walked toward Wei Yuan, drew a dagger, and slipped it into his belt. It was the very dagger plunged beside the table.
The vision ended there.
This dagger had been left behind deliberately by that young Liao man.
Wei Yuan remained expressionless, but his hands were trembling faintly. He noticed another object lying in the pool of blood beneath the table. He walked over, brushed aside a hardened piece of entrails, and picked up an envelope. Wei Yuan opened it and pulled out the paper inside. The paper was completely soaked through with blood, yet the ink was darker still, barely legible.
The handwriting was extremely hurried, clearly dashed off in haste; even so, every single character radiated a fierce, wild, and unstoppable determination.
"To my younger brother, Wei Yuan:
"Your elder brother was slow of wit by nature, taking twenty-seven years merely to form a Dao Foundation, with no hope of advancing an inch further in this life. You, worthy brother, hail from a renowned sect and possess overflowing talent. To have made your acquaintance was my great fortune.
"You once spoke of the Three Immortalities. Yet when the sages speak of Establishing Virtue, their intent spans a thousand autumns—something your brother could never hope to attain even if I spent my entire life striving for it. Thus, I wrote only the two treatises: Establishing Merit and Establishing Words. I know full well they are crude and unrefined works, but that is the extent of my ability. Now the fierce barbarians have arrived in a sudden raid; lacking in learning and talent, your brother possesses no strategy to repel the enemy. For the sake of the common people, for the sake of the country, my only choice is to sacrifice this battered frame and do all I can.
"Fortunately, your foolish elder brother still has one more treatise, titled: Attaining Benevolence."
Chapter 86