"Rebels... rebels... every f*cking one of them is a rebel! Ahhhh!!!"
Along the border between Horse State and Mammoth State, jagged, winding trenches carved through a devastated battlefield.
Thunder rumbled beneath the torrential downpour, extinguishing the sluggish smoke drifting over the smoldering grass while drowning out the groans of wounded soldiers in the trenches.
Outside the command tent on the front lines, General Alaiyang tilted his face to the sky, pounding his chest savagely with his right fist.
The choked, ragged sounds he made could hardly be distinguished as weeping or laughter, yet bore an uncanny resemblance to the captain of the imperial guard who had stood watch at the palace gates.
Damn it all...
Curse them!
Alaiyang's heart swelled with bitter indignity.
He possessed every martial skill required to wage war, destined to display his brilliance upon the field, never imagining he would be reduced to such a pathetic state.
It was already mid-March.
Nearly two months had passed since the fall of Tiandu.
In a mere two months, Tiandu had changed masters twice, and Xilan had lost virtually all its realm.
The front lines were in no better shape.
After nearly half a year of bitter combat, the Gray Wolf Army had been pushed right back to the original provincial border.
At the end of last year, they had still traded blows evenly with Laxi's forces, even securing several handsome victories around the New Year thanks to the tanks delivered by the Legion.
Yet those rebels seemed inexhaustible.
Wave after wave died, only for wave after wave to charge forward, tearing at his Gray Wolves in the quagmire.
Those bastards only grew stronger with every battle. At first, they had been nothing more than disorganized rabble, but now they were fielding exoskeletons and aircraft.
In contrast, his Gray Wolf Army grew more exhausted with every clash, to the point where their logistics had completely collapsed.
Worse yet, the northern part of Brahma Province had entered its rainy season.
A sudden torrential deluge poured misery upon an army whose supply lines were already in dire straits.
The armored units spearheading the assault became mired in the mud before they could retreat. Encircled and sliced apart by the resistance fighters, with Mosquito ground-attack aircraft shrieking through the skies, entire formations had been forced to surrender.
Now, barely thirty thousand men remained in the Gray Wolf Army. Lacking ammunition, short on food and winter gear, they had been battered into utter disgrace.
Moreover, due to their previous scorched-earth policy, not a single village remained for a hundred li around, making it impossible to scavenge or requisition grain from the locals.
Unrest rippled through the ranks.
No one wanted to fight anymore, nor was there any point in doing so...
Xilan had fallen.
Though the portents of doom had approached at a crawl, when the edifice truly collapsed, it fell faster than anyone could have fathomed.
Just months ago, people had comforted themselves with the proverb that a starved camel remained bigger than a horse, yet in mere months, one could barely find a handful of souls across Brahma Province who harbored nostalgia for the empire.
Even his most loyal subordinates were among them.
Hearing rumors that Absaik was of the Wolf Clan and that their homeland, Wolf State, had been liberated, some had even entertained thoughts of defecting to the State of Brahma.
"General... we cannot keep fighting. Our supply lines are severed."
Gazing at his wailing commander standing in the rain, Staff Officer Gopal dropped to his knees. Disregarding the water choking down his throat, he looked up and implored,
"If we turn south now and seize Horse State... perhaps we can preserve one final spark of life for Xilan. Once the Tiger Army pushes north and takes Horse State, we won't have a single chance left!"
In truth, this was the worst of all options.
The best option was surrendering to Mammoth State; the middle option was joining the Tiger Army; the lesser option was defecting to the State of Brahma.
Yet in the face of the unyielding, obstinate Alaiyang, he dared not voice those genuine solutions.
Gopal truly believed it now.
This man was an absolute loyalist!
They had held countless opportunities to declare independence, yet he had cast every single one aside.
The chronicles of Brahma Province would surely dedicate a page to him...
But why...
Why did he have to be his commander!
Gopal felt frantic enough to suffer a heart attack.
"Silence!!!"
Alaiyang roared abruptly, cutting off the treasonous words.
The shout cracked like thunder, frightening Gopal so badly he nearly collapsed into the mud.
Hatred burned across Alaiyang's face; he chewed at the rain dripping from his lips as if wanting to grind it to dust.
"You think I'm Laxi... that treacherous dog biting the hand that fed him? My name is Alaiyang! I am the Empire's God of War!"
Gopal stared at him in despair, his lips trembling.
"But the Empire... the Empire has already..."
The word "fallen" drowned in the rain.
His heart, too, was filled with bitter sorrow.
If only they could have fought an honorable battle, it might have been bearable. Yet up to this day, they had continually suffered defeat at the hands of their own side.
It had been this way since Golden Gallon Port.
Had Prince Dilip not been such a hopeless incompetent, trapped inside the city and run ragged by Laxi, even if they had suffered at the hands of those rebellious rabble, they would never have been driven into the Everflowing River to swim for their lives.
That was the humiliation of his life.
And the humiliation of the entire Gray Wolf Army.
Alaiyang knew what his staff officer wanted to say, but had no desire to hear another word.
After a long silence, as if finally seeing something clearly, he exhaled a heavy sigh.
"You may go."
"I..." Gopal was stunned, unable to grasp his meaning.
Alaiyang fell silent for a few moments, then continued in a measured tone.
"Whether you head north or south, I will not stop you. Given your talents, becoming a general might be a stretch, but serving as a staff officer will suit you just fine."
As he spoke, he gazed toward the distant trenches, speaking as if to Gopal, yet also to himself.
"You have followed me for so long, wagering everything you owned, wanting nothing more than to win renown and return home in glory. But now the renown is gone, countless brothers have been crippled, and you're pushed toward rebellion... It would be wrong of me to hold you any longer.
"Take the remaining men and leave."
Amidst the pouring rain, everything grew eerily still, save for the rhythmic patter of raindrops striking the mud.
Gopal's eyes widened. He stared in disbelief at the back of his general, speechless.
He had guessed what the man intended to do, yet had no idea how to stop him.
Just then, Alaiyang bellowed once more:
"Get out of here!!"
"Yes, sir!"
Gopal screamed as he acknowledged the order with all his might. Clenching his teeth, he scrambled up from the mire, looking back with every step as he staggered toward the encampment.
Rain blurred his vision.
And blurred Alaiyang.
Whoosh—
The rain fell even harder.
The howl of wind and thunder roared on all sides, just like the apocalypse two centuries ago, threatening to swallow the entire world.
He knew not how long he stood in the rain.
In a daze, Alaiyang's gaze pierced the curtain of rain and beheld numerous silhouettes.
Those figures stood quietly outside the trenches, perched upon the mist-shrouded ruins of villages, silently watching him.
Alaiyang widened his eyes, and they vanished; only when the rain blurred his vision once more did they reappear.
In that instant, he suddenly realized who they were.
They were the wronged ghosts who had perished along the provincial border...
They had come to claim his life.
From him.
And from the Empire he had guarded.
"Hahahahaha!"
Alaiyang suddenly laughed.
He threw back his head and laughed wild and long into the sky, then unholstered the sidearm at his waist.
So there truly were ghosts in this world...
He had always thought such tales were mere nonsense.
"I curse you..."
Alaiyang's face twisted into a snarl as he flicked off the safety and pressed the muzzle under his chin.
"Laxi..."
"And all of you... every treasonous rebel... none of you shall die in peace!"
"Even if I become a vengeful wraith, even if I am damned for eternity never to reincarnate... I will drag you down to hell!"
"I'll be waiting for you there! Waiting for you to f*cking join me down below! Then I'll fight you again with real steel and blood!!!"
A roll of muffled thunder boomed overhead.
As though summoned by heaven, Alaiyang released one final roar and violently pulled the trigger, penning the final stroke of "loyalty."
Bang—!
A muzzle flash flickered, and he crashed heavily to the ground.
In the split second before his consciousness plunged into the abyss, he hazily recalled that a certain myriarch under his command had died the exact same way.
Back then, he had only felt pity, thinking the man had had no reason to die. But looking back now, it was he himself who had been blind.
Long, long ago, his legs had already been buried in the red earth; only the burial had been delayed.
Perhaps he should have died long ago...
...
The downpour lasted five days and five nights, only slackening slightly on the morning of the sixth day.
However, Mammoth State this year was unlike previous years. Though the Tasang River flooded for a spell, it did not turn the entire southeastern part of the state into a vast marshland.
Laxi was a man who returned what he borrowed.
Though he had pinned the blowing of the levee on dead men, he had cleaned up the mess all the same.
Ever since implementing the labor export policy, the Mammoth State authorities had used cement bought from West Sail Port to build a larger dam equipped with generators along the Tasang River, designating dedicated flood detention basins based on recommendations from the Alliance's hydrogeological experts.
The old levee had been the private property of nobles, but this new dam served all the people of Mammoth State.
Beyond that, through a network of irrigation canals, the authorities had expanded the watered farmland from aristocratic estates into various villages designated for refugee resettlement.
Even if the veteran elders of the Moon Clan resistance disliked his style, they had to admit the man was, in some sense, truly capable.
He genuinely applied practical solutions to specific problems...
Inside the military camp.
Shawa, captain of the assault team, lifted the tent flap, stepped inside, and reported to Laxi, who was bent over a map.
"The Gray Wolf Army has retreated."
Laxi was not in the least surprised.
Had this rain not lasted so long, the five divisions he deployed on the border might have already encircled the enemy.
"Where are they heading?"
Shawa lowered his voice.
"South..."
South...
They actually went south.
Laxi froze for a long time, a sudden melancholy gripping his heart. It seemed Alaiyang truly detested him to the core.
Going south was the worst of all options.
Whether surrendering to the Tiger Army or seizing Horse State to establish an independent domain, neither held any future. It was far worse than heading west to join the State of Brahma and gambling on Absaik's magnanimity and vision.
Tiger State bordered the sea on one side and formidable neighbors on the other three; strategic depth was impossible to find.
Its geography dictated that no matter how powerful a warlord grew there, he could never be more than a petty king on a hill—and one mountain could not hold two tigers.
Had he been in Alaiyang's boots, he would certainly have gone north to join himself, for only Laxi would have placed him in high office.
After all, the Moon Clan resistance was hardly monolithic. Even purely from the perspective of checks and balances, taking him in held great value.
Watching Laxi's wistful expression, Shawa continued in a low voice.
"In addition, we captured several deserters from the Gray Wolf Army on the border. According to them... their general is dead."
"Dead?! Alaiyang?" Laxi stared in disbelief, stepping forward to grip Shawa's shoulders. "How is that possible?! How did he die?!"
Looking at his agitated superior, Shawa gave a wry smile and shook his head.
"...I don't know for certain. Word is, he committed suicide."
Laxi released his shoulders, his eyes vacant, standing frozen on the spot for a long while.
Moments later, as though his soul had finally returned to his body, he looked at his subordinate and spoke.
"Pass the word: Alaiyang was killed in an airstrike. We won this battle.
"The man was no saint, but he was a respectable adversary... Fly the flag at half-mast for him."
Suicide was too humiliating.
A man like him did not deserve such an end.
Having clashed with him for more than half a year, Laxi wanted to salvage some dignity for his rival.
Shawa asked no questions and nodded.
"Yes, sir."
...
"...Extra! Extra! Mosquito attack planes show their might! The Empire's God of War is slain! The Gray Wolf Army is routed!"
"Xilan has fallen!"
On the streets of Golden Gallon Port, newsboys with bags slung across their shoulders darted through the alleys, crying out the news. Passing pedestrians stopped and reached into their pockets, tossing four-gallon coins to purchase freshly printed, ink-warm papers.
Gazing at the extra edition, the crowds on the street buzzed with astonished chatter.
"Alaiyang is dead?!"
"Blown up by a plane, no less!"
"Damn, that bastard had it coming long ago!"
"Wonder if Wutuo will drop dead from rage to keep him company."
"Hahaha!"
The street erupted into boisterous jeers and mockery. Not a single person could be found shedding a tear for the Empire.
Yet more than ten kilometers away on the Everflowing River, a bedridden man violently slammed the newspaper in his hands onto the floor.
"Vile beast!"
Wutuo cursed, his eyes bulging like a goldfish's, before breaking into a violent fit of coughing.
The eunuchs beside him jumped in fright and crowded around, some feeling for his pulse, others clutching towels to wipe away his sweat, only to be shoved away by Wutuo.
"Get away from me!"
The voice cracked like thunder, terrifying the eunuchs into dropping to their knees and shuffling aside on all fours.
Hearing the commotion inside the "imperial bedchamber," Prince Dilip walked in from outside and happened to catch sight of the newspaper on the floor.
He instinctively moved to bend down and pick it up, but caught sight of the headline and tactfully drew back his hand.
[Akbar Xilan Arrives at West Sail Port! Meets Southern Legion Three-Star Myriarch Gulion to Discuss Establishing an Alternate Xilan Royal Court in the Three Northern States.]
"Establishing an alternate court." What a farce.
They weren't even bothering to keep up appearances anymore.
Prince Dilip sighed softly in his heart and walked to Wutuo's bedside.
"Your Majesty... please heed the doctors' advice. Avoid the news and preserve your royal health."
Ever since his last fainting spell, Wutuo's health had deteriorated by the day. Now he could not even leave his bed.
Looking at Prince Dilip, who gazed at him with evident concern, Wutuo suddenly grinned, propping himself up on an elbow to sit halfway up.
"Dilip... do you know why, back then, I did not take you west?"
Is there even a question? Because the Heavenly King Army was in the west...
Dilip felt torn between tears and laughter, mourning that the Emperor's illness had genuinely addled his wits, yet kept his head bowed and dared not speak his mind.
"Your Majesty... forgive my dullness. I do not know."
A faint flush rose to Wutuo's cheeks, and a gentle smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"In truth, both we and the Legion are colonizers. We merely colonize different subjects... Thus, we are natural allies. This is not determined by geography, but by something far more fundamental.
"Yet precisely because we are both colonizers, we can only share prosperity, never adversity... The moment we fall on hard times, they will sink their fangs into us without the slightest hesitation."
Many truths were impossible to grasp from within the game, yet became glaringly obvious from the outside.
Only after fleeing Tiandu had he come to understand a few things.
Those veteran aristocrats shouting "Your Majesty is wise" had never truly thought him brilliant.
Those onlookers crowding the riverbank to gawk at him were truly watching him like a monkey in a cage.
In the past, he had lamented that he was surrounded by fools, that in all of vast Brahma Province there were barely any men worth using. Only upon arriving at Golden Gallon Port had he abruptly awakened from that delusion.
It was not that Brahma Province lacked talent; rather, those truly capable refused to serve him, and his own petty nature could never stomach them. Over time, the only ones left by his side were genuine idiots and clever men playing dumb.
Perhaps he should have died sooner.
Wutuo breathed a long sigh, suddenly aching for the ministers who had suffered alongside him.
He had made them suffer so...
"Dilip, what I regret most now is sending Akbar to the north... At the time, I only thought of not putting all our eggs in one basket, of preserving a thread of royal blood for the Xilan court. I never imagined it would plunge all the survivors of Brahma Province into such misery.
"That wretch still cannot see... the Wilante are wolves draped in human skin. But I cannot blame him; I taught him myself, and I was just as blind, realizing it only at the very end."
Dilip hastily raised his head, only to be startled by the deathly pallor darkening Wutuo's brow.
"What are you saying... Your Majesty?! What do you mean 'at the very end'?! We still have three armies at our disposal! Once we rally them at Golden Gallon Port, reclaiming Xilan's realm is only a matter of—"
"Gone," Wutuo waved a dismissive hand, coughing as an unnatural crimson flushed his face. He pulled his parched lips into a faint grin. "I had a dream yesterday. Guess whom I saw? That fellow Alaiyang... Heh, he was kneeling outside my door. I summoned him to enter and speak, but he stood up and walked away."
Cold sweat formed on Dilip's forehead.
He had indeed heard some shadowy rumors, but had not anticipated they would reach His Majesty's ears so quickly.
Just who had brought this news to the Emperor?!
Was it not just the Empire slipping away? Could they not even control the people at their own side?
Dilip broke into a cold sweat, yet Wutuo paid no heed, sighing to himself.
"I failed him, and I failed the warriors of the Gray Wolf Army... They were all devoted lads, the most loyal boys in the whole Empire. The incompetent one was I, not them."
Dilip sank to his knees, pressing his forehead firmly against the floor as he pleaded.
"Your Majesty... please speak no more, your health..."
Nothing said or done mattered anymore. Knowing too much was worse than knowing nothing at all; staying alive was what truly counted.
Now that the muddle-headed Crown Prince had gone to West Sail Port, if something happened to His Majesty as well, it wouldn't merely be a matter of establishing an alternate court—the Empire's true legitimacy would fall squarely into the hands of the Legion!
Yet Wutuo did not listen, muttering on as if to the air.
"No! I must speak... My body can hold on no longer. If I do not finish speaking, I will never rest in peace..."
As he spoke, he coughed twice more, and this time spat up a trace of blood.
Catching sight of the blood, the nearest eunuch turned pale as a sheet. He scrambled up from the floor, frantically grabbing a pill from the tray on the bedside table.
"Your Majesty, take your medicine..."
"Get away!"
Wutuo roared, shoving the servant backward with a sudden surge of dying strength, sitting fully upright as if seized by a final rally.
"It is not medicine that I need!"
He took these pills every day, yet never recovered; instead, his health grew worse and worse.
No matter how foolish he might be, he had caught on to something: someone wanted him dead.
That someone was not the Alliance.
Nor was it Golden Gallon Port.
It was not even Laxi, who hated him, or the two-faced warlords feigning compliance.
Wutuo glared with bulging eyes at Dilip, who knelt in terror. Doing so seemed to drain every last drop of his strength.
He extended a trembling index finger toward his brother, summoning his final breath from a decaying frame.
"I, Emperor of Xilan..."
"I pass the throne to..."
Yet pity the cruel turns of fate—or perhaps retribution for a lifetime of misdeeds.
Mouth agape, Wutuo came within a hairsbreadth of speaking Dilip's name, but at that final moment, his breath gave out.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!!! What are you all kneeling there for?! Get up and save him!"
Looking at his brother slumped on the bed, Dilip dissolved in tears, shrieking hysterically and shouting at the panicked eunuchs scrambling to their feet.
He had no desire to be an emperor.
He only wanted Wutuo to wake up and shoulder this crushing burden once again.
The room erupted into weeping and wailing.
The eunuchs rushing to the bedside scrambled to prop up His Majesty, stuffing pills into his mouth and pouring water down his throat, only to find that he had already drawn his last breath.
"Your Majesty!"
"Wake up, Your Majesty!"
"Wuwuwu... Ahhh!!"
Grief-stricken wails filled the room. It was not merely Prince Dilip sobbing his heart out; virtually everyone broke down in tears, their faces streaked with weeping.
Save for one person.
A young palace maid.
At eighteen, she possessed exquisite features and a lovely figure, resembling a midsummer lotus in full bloom.
She was born into a minor noble family of Golden Gallon Port and had lived in pampered luxury from childhood, just like the men and women depicted in Stories After the Rainstorm.
Later, when Governor Nihak was imprisoned, her family fell on hard times. As the second daughter, she had had no choice but to step out into the world to earn a living, finding work at a theater in the harbor district.
She was a pragmatic soul, content wherever she landed. Having witnessed the prosperity of the new era, she held little longing for the privileges of the old regime.
Money was all that mattered.
So long as she had money, she could live even better than before—far more aristocratic than her pathetic old father, who knelt on the royal merchant vessel's deck begging for scraps with snot and tears streaming down his face.
And just two months prior, a distant uncle had sought her out with a task.
Her uncle had promised that once the deed was done, she would receive a fortune—more money than she could earn in a lifetime.
She had agreed without a second thought.
With her uncle's assistance, she joined a theatrical troupe performing aboard this vessel. Sure enough, while entertaining his guests, Wutuo caught sight of her, fell for her instantly, and took her into his inner quarters.
Her job was remarkably simple: swap out the medicine prescribed by Wutuo's doctors for sugar pills, and occasionally whisper tidbits about Golden Gallon Port by his pillow.
She didn't even need to be blatant with praise; she merely had to make him realize what an utter failure he was as an emperor.
Stepping out of the cabin, she slipped a bottle of sugar pills from her sleeve, emptied them all into the river, and watched them dissolve into nothingness amidst the surging waters.
She didn't care whether they were sugar pills or poison; none of that mattered anymore.
That useless old codger had planted his roots in the red earth long ago. Dying early or dying late made no difference, and whether someone gave him a push made none either.
If anything, he ought to thank her for saving him from having to rule over a dead dynasty.
Taking out a delicate earring, she hung it from her translucent earlobe, a faint smile curling her crimson lips.
"Uncle.
"The man is dead. You can give me the passcode to the card now, right?"
The surging river waters buried the final intrigue.
While the old ministers of the Empire were still weeping their laments, a telegram forwarded through several hands had already reached West Sail Port.
Inside the military command headquarters.
Glancing at the telegram presented by his confidant, the taut line of General Gulion's lips finally curved into a smirk.
Nearly half a month had passed since that trial, and it had been some time since he heard good news. At last, something worthy of a knowing smile had transpired.
"Splendid!"
Dropping that remark, he slapped the telegram down onto the command table and walked over to the map.
After studying the strategic deployment on the map for a long while, he turned back to his confidant and ordered,
"Terminate Project Migratory Bird and initiate Project Cuckoo. Have Akbar prepare to ascend the throne at once and succeed Wutuo as emperor.
"Furthermore, issue an ultimatum to the Mammoth State authorities demanding that they withdraw immediately from the three northern states and return them to Xilan's new king, His Highness Akbar! The Legion will not abandon its allies; if these rebels refuse to comply, we will avenge Alaiyang!
"In addition, dispatch a telegram in the name of the Xilan Royal Court to the State of Brahma demanding military right of way. If they refuse, we cannot guarantee their absolute safety."
Hearing this, his confidant immediately snapped to attention and saluted.
"Yes, sir!"
Watching his confidant turn and stride out of the tent, General Gulion wore a cheerful smile as he turned his gaze back to the map, which he had partitioned into multiple sectors by front lines.
The three northern states were currently under the de facto control of Mammoth State. Roughly five divisions were deployed along the border of Dog State, consisting primarily of light infantry and artillery.
Three ten-thousand-man units would be enough to pierce straight through.
Once Dog State was taken, he could launch the second phase of the offensive—a pincer attack from the west and north targeting the heart of the State of Brahma: Bull State, where Tiandu lay.
All preparations were complete; only the opening shot remained.
He had planned for this day far too long.
The real show was finally about to begin!
Chapter 847