A-Jin

The expression of the guard outside flickered, but he did not move. Then Zhao Pan's voice drifted out from inside. "Let him in." He Lingchuan strode into the tent and found only He Chunhua and Zhao Pan inside. Were they the ones arguing? "Father, what happened?" He Chunhua reached out and plucked a twig from his son's hair. "Just exchanging a few thoughts with General Zhao." Covered head to toe in sand and grime—where had the boy gone to turn himself into such a mud monkey? "Victory and defeat are ordinary occurrences in war, but calamity should not be brought upon one's family," Zhao Pan said, dispensing with pleasantries toward father and son. "Governor-General He, what you've done crosses the line." Leave family out of it? He Lingchuan froze. What had his father done? "They plunder the people of Xiazhou and slaughter the sons of our land, yet you want me to talk honor and virtue with these invaders?" He Chunhua let out a cold sneer. "General Zhao, you are being pedantic." "Honor is not without purpose," Zhao Pan said in a heavy voice. "You abducted Hong Chenglüe's wife. He will surely stop at nothing when dealing with you in turn." "He pillaged my grain, raided Xiazhou, and even heavily disrupted your frontline operations. Has he not already stopped at nothing?" He Chunhua shook his head. "All warfare is based on deception. As long as it brings victory, what won't the Xunzhou men do? Look at Hong Chenglüe—he used over a hundred of his own wounded soldiers as bait, using my blade to eliminate his burdens. What kind of righteous man could he be?" From their previous clash, he understood his opponent all too well. He sneered again. "And that truce flag outside your camp gates, General Zhao—to me, it is nothing but a sham. When the Xunzhou army wants to attack, they will attack; they won't honor any agreement with you!" "Hong Chenglüe was merely carrying out his duty, even if he did block our path." Zhao Pan felt he had phrased it as tactfully as possible. What he had really wanted to say was *struck a blow to your pride*. This Governor-General He was a sharp, capable man, but he was overly fond of saving face and claiming glory. Hong Chenglüe had burned half of his provisions, and He Chunhua was burning with the desire to settle that score every waking second. Otherwise, his authority would be damaged, making it difficult to govern the people or rein in the Four Great Clans once he arrived in Dunyu. "It isn't as though I'm demanding Hong Chenglüe slit his own throat," He Chunhua said with an amused chuckle. "Besides, she's already been captured. What reason is there to give her up?" He Lingchuan caught on. "Father, you found Hong Chenglüe's wife?" A few days ago, He Chunhua had asked him for the wooden comb, and he hadn't thought much of it at the time. So that was what it had been for. Before marching off to war, Hong Chenglüe would have surely hidden his wife away in safety. His father truly possessed remarkable means—tracking down A-Jin using nothing more than a comb. He Chunhua nodded. "What of it?" A flicker of displeasure rose in his chest. Was his eldest son about to object as well? "Nothing." In the military, obeying a superior's command was one's sacred duty. Whatever He Lingchuan thought in his heart, he could not openly oppose He Chunhua on the surface. Especially not in front of an outsider like Zhao Pan. He Chunhua let out a soft huff. "It's a good thing I brought you along on this campaign." Had it been his second son accompanying the army, the boy's heart would have softened by now. He stood up and said to Zhao Pan, "My mind is made up. We proceed as planned." With that, he held his head high and strode out. He Lingchuan had no choice but to follow behind, asking in a low murmur, "Father, how did you capture her?" "Just some crude tracking techniques, nothing grand," He Chunhua answered dismissively. "Now that we have her, we've turned the tables and made ourselves masters of the situation. We are no longer on the defensive." They had been exposed in the open while the enemy lurked in the shadows. He Chunhua was certain that the scouts dispatched by Hong Chenglüe were still roving near the frontlines, keeping close watch over their convoy. Zhao Pan's opponent was the Xunzhou army, but Hong Chenglüe had his eyes locked firmly on He Chunhua. *Hah. Unacceptable!* He Lingchuan hesitated, wanting to speak, but held back in the end. The woman was already captured and the arrow was on the string; his father was determined to see this through. Once outside, personal guards held up oil-paper umbrellas to escort the two men back to their respective tents. The river water outside churned thick and yellow with silt, forcing He Lingchuan to retrieve a bucket of fresh water from his storage ring to wash off the sand from head to toe before changing into clean clothes. Across the entire army, he was likely the only one extravagant enough to bathe with drinking water. Ever since his perilous ordeal in the Panlong Desert, he had made a habit of hoarding water and rations. His storage ring had ample space to accommodate it anyway. Wind and rain raged outside, and since there was nothing else to do, he simply sat cross-legged on a chair to regulate his breathing and enter meditation. Whether it was thanks to the insights gleaned from practicing his blade against the river's surge or not, as his true energy completed several cycles, it flowed even more smoothly than before. Cultivation was like that: one's foundation could deepen gradually over time, but a breakthrough in realm relied on opportunity and comprehension. It was profound, ethereal, and impossible to articulate in simple words. That was why formidable figures like General Red and Xiao Maoliang advocated actual combat, forging their understanding amidst life and death. ... This bout of meditation lasted for four hours. When he finished his circulation, He Lingchuan heard the wind and rain howling even more fiercely outside, nearly drowning out the shouts of the soldiers. It sounded as though several tents had even been blown away. He pulled out an oilskin cloak, draped it over his shoulders, and walked outside. The moment he stepped past the tent flap, raindrops larger than soybeans pelted his face. The waters of the Han River were already surging wildly. No matter how much comprehension of the Wave Slash he had gained, jumping into the torrent now would only result in him being rolled away by the waves, with no tomorrow left to speak of. Amidst the storm, every soldier was busy at work. A personal guard informed He Lingchuan that the Water Spirit had warned that the Han River's flood season would arrive ahead of schedule. The current position was no longer safe, and the entire encampment had to withdraw to higher ground. Striking camp for an entire army was no easy task, especially under such foul weather. It was especially difficult with a brute-bull unit in tow. When the storm arrived, some bull demons had panicked and required soothing, and now they had to be persuaded to relocate alongside the men. Dealing with the stubborn temper of bulls was never pleasant. The only piece of good news was that the enemy would also find it impossible to cross the river by boat in this weather. Turning his head, He Lingchuan suddenly spotted a civilian carriage. The carriage was exceedingly crude, lacking a proper cabin and draped only with coarse cloth curtains on four sides. In such heavy rain, the curtains were instantly soaked through, sticking together. He Lingchuan could see a bed of dry straw laid inside, upon which a person lay wrapped in a quilt. The driver urged the two draft horses forward, but one of the wheels had wedged itself into a fissure between the stones and could not be dragged free no matter how hard they pulled. He Lingchuan stepped over, crouched down to grip the wheel, and said to the driver, "Let me help you." As the driver whipped the sluggish horses, He Lingchuan channeled true energy into his arms. With their forces combined, the wedged wheel was abruptly hoisted upward, splattering a burst of muddy water. The carriage was able to clatter forward once more. He Lingchuan glanced up, and the person on the carriage happened to be looking at him as well, politely offering a soft, "Thank you." It was a woman, her face pale, her hair and quilt soaked by the icy rain. At that moment, a soldier escorted an older maidservant over, shoving her toward the carriage. "Watch her carefully! Don't you dare slack off!" The Yuan army pulled back more than fifty zhang from the riverbank to re-establish their camp. In truth, moving farther back would have been safer, but Zhao Pan did not dare to do so. He still had to guard the riverbank and prevent the enemy from crossing and seizing a beachhead. The Han River was a natural barrier; once breached, the Yuan army would be forced onto the back foot. The civilian carriage was rolled into a tent for shelter. It was an exceptionally cramped, small tent, barely large enough to cover the carriage, completely incomparable to the quarters used by He Lingchuan and the officers. Yet many soldiers stood guard around it. He Lingchuan recognized them as members of the grain transport brigade—their own men. While the maidservant went off to fetch a towel to wipe her own face, He Lingchuan walked up beside the carriage and looked down at the woman. "Are you Hong Chenglüe's wife, A-Jin?" The corners of her mouth curved slightly, in what seemed like a half-smile, before she sneezed. He Lingchuan stepped out of the tent and called the maidservant over. "Change her into dry clothes and a dry quilt. Lying there like that will make her sick." The maidservant seemed somewhat reluctant, but when He Lingchuan glared at her, she could only pout and mutter, "There are no spare quilts." He Lingchuan glanced at Shan Youjun behind him. The man understood instantly, turned, and went outside, returning shortly afterward with a dry, fresh quilt procured from who knew where. He Lingchuan walked outside, granting A-Jin the privacy to change her clothes and bedding. A quarter of an hour later, the maidservant came out and said, "It's done." He Lingchuan sent her off to boil hot water and walked back inside. A-Jin appeared in far better shape than before. Yet her smile was gone, and she merely looked at He Lingchuan, asking, "What do you want?" She had noticed that this youth held considerable authority within the army. "Just making things a little easier for you." Every human had a shred of compassion, and he was facing a paralytic. A-Jin spoke slowly. "Whatever you hope to accomplish, you will not succeed." "Oh?" He Lingchuan asked with curiosity. "What do you think we intend to do?" "That Lord He of yours said he wants Hong Lang to withdraw his troops and leave," A-Jin said with a feeble smile. "That is impossible. You are in the military as well; you ought to know that military orders are absolute." He Lingchuan folded his arms. "I'm curious—did he sheath his blade and resign his post back then for your sake?" The more he understood about Hong Chenglüe, the more advantageous it would be for the battles ahead. The faint smile faded from A-Jin's face, and she fell silent. "You two lived in seclusion in Bailu Town for years. Why did he choose to break his oath now?" "For me," A-Jin said, blinking slowly. "The National Preceptor of the Beijia Kingdom promised to find him a medicinal ingredient that could allow me to stand on my own feet again." He Lingchuan frowned. "Not for himself?" "That kind of medicine would not be easy to obtain, even if we returned to the Beijia Kingdom." "I heard from the servant that you are Governor-General He's son?" A-Jin looked at him and said in a faint, melancholy tone, "A person like you has probably never suffered the hardships we went through, have you?" He Lingchuan remained silent. Indeed, he had not—not in either of his two lives. "When Hong Lang and I were children, we escaped from a village of cannibals, fought with wild dogs for scraps of food, and were kicked off a cliff, clawing our way back from the brink of death," she said slowly. "Back then, his only wish was to grow up, become strong, and live a decent life. But when he resigned his post and moved to Lingzhou, and later to Bailu Town, we realized there is no such thing as seclusion in this world—only struggle. For commoners, merely staying alive requires every ounce of their strength." In times of chaos, human life was as cheap as grass, and the suffering of the common folk was so insignificant it was hardly worth mentioning. Her eyes held a desolate grief beneath their calm surface. "If you were in his place, would you not want to return and hold great power once more?" He Lingchuan pondered for a long while before asking, "You believe he won't agree to Lord He's demands?" A-Jin tilted her head back to stare at the roof of the tent. "I do not know. It would be best if he did not." If Hong Chenglüe withdrew from Xiazhou, he would be defying orders from his superiors. He Lingchuan let out a soft chuckle. "It seems he is also a man who flows with the tide." "What do you mean by that?"