Gezhi wooden frame

Icy cold. Bone-chilling cold, like a thousand steel needles piercing deep into the bone marrow.

Then came excruciating pain. The wound on his left shoulder, ripped open by the scimitar, sent scalding spasms with every heartbeat, and every weak breath pulled at his torn muscles, making his vision blur with each passing moment.

Xiao Yuxuan's consciousness sank and floated in the dark mire. In his ears were distant and indistinct noises: the piercing sound of metal clashing, the mournful cries of the dying, the agonizing neighing of warhorses, and the incessant, heavy hooves of horses trampling the ground like the groans of the earth... These sounds mixed together, forming a suffocating torrent that assaulted his fragile nerves.

He felt himself being dragged along. The rough, muddy, and blood-stained ground rubbed against his back and legs, each bump sending a tearing pain through the wound on his left shoulder. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt as heavy as if weighed down by a thousand-pound boulder. Only his right hand, the one gripping the cold wooden shard tightly, his nails almost digging into its hard edges, remained. The stinging pain in his palm was the only faint thread connecting him to this cruel world.

After an unknown amount of time, the dragging force disappeared. He was thrown heavily onto the cold, hard ground. A thick, pungent stench, a mixture of blood, sweat, the bitterness of herbs, and the foul smell of excrement, suddenly filled his nostrils, causing him to cough violently. The stench aggravated his wounds, making him curl up in pain and let out a muffled groan.

"Another one! Damn it, be gentle! Can't you see it's a living person?" A hoarse, tired voice rang out from not far away, carrying a heavy Guanzhong accent.

"Living people? Ha, we brought in ten, but who knows if even half of them will make it to tomorrow!" Another, even colder voice responded, and the footsteps gradually faded away.

Xiao Yuxuan struggled to slowly lift his heavy eyelids. His vision was initially blurry, with only flickering, dim light and shadow. After a while, the scene before him gradually became clear.

He lay in a huge, dark tent filled with desperate groans. The air was as foul as congealed grease. The ground was covered with straw mats, and on them lay countless people. Severed arms, broken legs, disemboweled bodies, charred and burned... all sorts of gruesome wounds. Blood soaked through the straw mats, spreading dark red and black stains on the cold ground. Painful groans, suppressed sobs, and delirious murmurs filled the air like background noise from the depths of hell, never ceasing.

Several equally exhausted medics and elderly military shamans, covered in blood, staggered among the wounded soldiers. Their movements were rough, their eyes numb. The water used to clean the wounds was murky and had a strange odor. The herbal dressings emitted a pungent smell, but could not mask the overwhelming stench of decay. The short knife used to cut through rotting flesh was dull, so it was rubbed a couple of times on a nearby whetstone, making a teeth-grinding scraping sound. There weren't enough bandages, so they were hastily bound with torn pieces of old military uniform. Each treatment was accompanied by the heart-wrenching screams of the wounded soldiers and the medics' numb rebukes.

This is the wounded soldiers' camp. A vast graveyard shrouded in the shadow of death, slowly devouring lives.

Xiao Yuxuan struggled to move, but a piercing pain shot through his left shoulder, causing him to gasp and break out in a cold sweat. He laboriously raised his right hand to touch the wound on his left shoulder, only to find it still tightly clutching the piece of wood he had found in the blood and mud. The wood was small, about two fingers wide and a palm long, with jagged, broken edges, resembling part of some large artifact. The wood was heavy and hard, a deep brownish-black color, covered with a thick layer of dried, hardened mud and dark red scabs, almost obscuring the original grain; only a few blurry, blood-soaked engravings were faintly visible.

What is this? A fragment of a weapon? Or… His mind was a jumbled mess: the horrific scene at his home in Longxi, the image of his father being dragged away, the cold fingers of his mother as she handed him the amulet… Fragments of shattered memories churned in agony and despair, yet he couldn’t piece them back together. He could only grip the cold piece of wood tighter, as if it were the only piece of driftwood a drowning man could find.

"Brother Yuxuan? Brother Yuxuan! Is that you?!" A familiar voice, trembling with tears, rang out beside him.

Xiao Yuxuan turned his head with difficulty. It was Sheng Guo! His face and body were splattered with blood, and there was a shallow scratch on his forehead, but he didn't seem to be seriously injured. He rushed to Xiao Yuxuan's side, tears mixed with the blood on his face, "Brother Yuxuan! You scared me to death! I thought... I thought you..." He choked and couldn't finish his sentence.

"Sheng...Sheng Guo..." Xiao Yuxuan's throat was dry, and his voice was hoarse like a broken gong, "It's good that you...are alright..."

"I'm alright! Thank goodness you bumped into me!" Sheng Guo wiped away her tears, looking at Xiao Yuxuan's bloodied left shoulder, her eyes filled with fear and worry, "You...your injury..."

"I...I won't die..." Xiao Yuxuan gritted his teeth, forcing out a smile that looked more like a grimace. The intense pain and dizziness from blood loss struck again.

Just then, a suppressed commotion came from the tent entrance. Several auxiliary soldiers dressed in dark brown tunics, their eyes vacant, carried in a stretcher. The person on the stretcher was covered in blood, and one leg was missing below the knee. The severed leg was only haphazardly wrapped with a muddy rag, and blood was still seeping out, staining the stretcher red.

"Make way! Make way! Carry him inside!" a voice shouted urgently.

As the stretcher passed by Xiao Yuxuan, he inadvertently glanced at the face of the person on it. It was a young, even somewhat immature face, but at this moment it was twisted beyond recognition by the excruciating pain and blood loss. The eyes stared blankly at the tent ceiling, and the lips moved silently, as if calling out for something.

Xiao Yuxuan's heart clenched. He remembered the boy on the training field, whipped until his skin was torn and bleeding for being late, yet gritting his teeth and remaining silent; he remembered the smile on the boy's face when he shared half a hard, gritty piece of wheat cake with him… He was so young…

The stretcher was carried inside, and soon came the doctor's rough shouts and the boy's suppressed, beast-like whimpers, followed by the chilling scraping sound of a dull knife cutting through rotting flesh... The whimpers stopped abruptly, leaving only deathly silence.

A chilling coldness instantly shot from Xiao Yuxuan's feet to the top of his head, making the hairs on his body stand on end! He looked sharply at Sheng Guo, who was also looking in that direction in terror, her face ashen and her body trembling slightly.

“Why…” Xiao Yuxuan’s voice was low, like a dream, his eyes fixed on the pool of fresh, glaring blood dripping from the stretcher on the ground, then slowly shifting to the shadow of death deep within the tent, “…Why did this happen?” His voice suddenly rose, carrying a hoarseness that was suppressed to the extreme, almost to the point of collapse, “Weren’t we guarding the border? Weren’t we protecting our country? But these…these…” He pointed to the hellish scene around him, to the boy who had just been carried in, his life hanging in the balance, “…these young people just like us! Why are they lying here?! Dragged in like livestock, like firewood…like…” He choked up, the last word too cruel to be uttered.

Sheng Guo shook his head blankly, tears silently streaming down his face. He couldn't answer that question. He only knew fear, only knew the agonizing pain in his heart as he saw his comrades fall.

Xiao Yuxuan's gaze returned to his right hand, tightly gripping the wooden shard. The cold, sharp edges of the shard dug deeply into his palm, causing a sharp, piercing pain. This pain, along with the tearing, burning ache in his left shoulder, surged through his chaotic thoughts like two electric currents! Longxi! The cold, cruel eyes of those officials when his father was dragged away! That glaring crimson and purple hue on the watchtower, a symbol of imperial suspicion! And this wounded soldiers' camp before him, a scene resembling a slaughterhouse!

A cold, cruel thought, bearing the bloody truth, struck like lightning in the darkness, ripping apart all the vague, indoctrinated illusions of "loyalty to the emperor and service to the country" in his mind:

This boundless sea of ​​blood, these countless corpses, these countless broken lives… what were they protecting? Was it for the “homeland” behind them, ravaged and dying under oppressive rule? Or was it to satisfy the cold imperial decree from deep within the palace walls of Xianyang, demanding “military might and soaring glory” and “wipe away past humiliations”? Was it to fill the insatiable greed of the eunuch in charge of the military supervision?!

“No…it shouldn’t be like this…” Xiao Yuxuan murmured to himself, his voice hoarse, but his eyes burned with a light he had never seen before, a light mixed with pain, anger, and despair. His hand, gripping the wooden piece, trembled violently from the excessive force, his knuckles cracking softly. The cold wooden piece seemed to have gained warmth at that moment, burning hot against his palm, and also against his heart, which had just been torn open by cruel reality.

---

Looking out from the gate tower, the wind and snow intensify.

Gao Huaien wrapped his luxurious fur cloak tighter around himself, yet his face was still blue with cold, and his teeth chattered. He huddled in a sheltered corner of the watchtower, trying his best to avoid the biting wind and the overwhelming stench of blood, but his eyes were fixed on the battlefield below, which was like a boiling furnace, filled with fear and a hint of morbid excitement.

Qin Zhaoyang stood like a mountain on the edge of the watchtower, the hem of his robe fluttering in the fierce wind. His face was expressionless, only icy calm, his gaze like that of an eagle circling in the sky, overlooking the entire bloody chess game.

The Di people's first wave of fierce attacks, like a raging tide, was finally halted by the Qin army's desperate resistance, relying on the stockade walls, rolling logs and stones, and powerful bows and crossbows. Layers upon layers of corpses of men and horses piled up beneath the stockade walls, and the filthy snow was stained a dark red swamp. The Di cavalry's charge, like waves crashing against rocks, was fierce, but it could no longer shake the foundation of the Qin army's camp, and the offensive gradually showed signs of fatigue.

However, Qin Zhaoyang's brows furrowed even more. What he saw was not the dawn of victory, but a deeper crisis.

"Report—!" A messenger, covered in blood and with his helmet askew, scrambled up the watchtower, shouting hoarsely, "General! A large number of Di cavalry have been spotted patrolling in the direction of 'Flying Fox Pass' to the west! No less than three thousand! Commander Zhao, who is guarding the pass... Commander Zhao has been killed in battle! The pass... the pass is about to fall! Requesting reinforcements! Urgent reinforcements!"

"Report—!!" Almost simultaneously, another scout stumbled forward, his voice trembling with tears: "General! East...east! 'Fallen Eagle Gorge'! The Di people...the Di people appeared out of nowhere! They're all elite infantrymen fighting on foot! They...they're climbing! The garrison at the gorge is...is being attacked from both sides! Heavy casualties! I beg...I beg..."

"Report—!!!" A third blood-stained urgent report tore through the snow: "General! A small group of Di cavalry has been discovered infiltrating the outer perimeter of the supply camp! They are setting fires! Burning...burning our haystacks!"

Bad news came crashing down like hail! Gao Huai'en turned pale, his body trembling like a leaf in the wind, and he screamed, "Qin Zhaoyang! You... what are you waiting for?! Quick! Send troops to block them! West! East! Supply camp! We need troops everywhere! Where are the troops?!"

Qin Zhaoyang suddenly turned around! His gaze was like two cold lightning bolts, instantly shattering all of Gao Huaien's screams! Gao Huaien was like a chicken with its neck being choked, all the remaining words stuck in his throat, leaving only a terrified groan.

Qin Zhaoyang stopped looking at him, his gaze sweeping across the sand table—the markings symbolizing the various strategic passes and weak points were now being stained a glaring crimson by an invisible force! Ashina Tulu! That old wolf! He never intended to engage in a head-on confrontation! His purpose in launching a full-scale attack was to utilize the mobility of his cavalry to launch a multi-pronged attack, simultaneously tearing apart the Qin army's already weak defenses! He was probing! Searching for Qin Zhaoyang's weakness! Searching for that fatal fulcrum that could breach the entire border defense line!

Troops are stretched thin! The main battlefield at the stockade walls still requires heavy garrisoning to guard against another fierce attack from the main Di forces! Every strategic pass is under attack; each is a vital point where a single move could have far-reaching consequences! The supply depot is the lifeline! Troops are needed everywhere! But where are they?!

A chilling cold, more biting than the wind and snow on the watchtower, instantly seized Qin Zhaoyang's heart! Suspicion in the court, difficulties in supply lines, and wavering morale... Ashina Tulu, that cunning wolf, chose his timing with the precision of a venomous snake biting his vital spot!

"Where is Li Chong?! Where are the 'Black Cloud Cavalry'?!" Qin Zhaoyang's voice was deep and muffled like thunder, pressing down on the scout who brought the news.

The scout's face was streaked with blood and tears: "Captain Li...Captain Li led the 'Black Cloud Cavalry' out of camp for a short time before being ambushed by the elite Di cavalry at 'Wild Wolf Slope'! It was Ashina Tulu's personal guard, the 'Azure Wolf Guard'! Captain Li...he...he fought desperately, holding back most of the Azure Wolf Guard, but...but the casualties were heavy! The messenger said...that Captain Li...was hit by seven arrows...fell from his horse...his fate is unknown! The Black Cloud Cavalry...were...were entangled!"

Like a final, devastating blow, Qin Zhaoyang's body swayed almost imperceptibly! Li Chong! His sharpest claws! Had actually been firmly held by Ashina Tulu's elite forces! The plan to rely on the Black Cloud Cavalry to flank and contain him had completely failed!

Is it over?

Atop the watchtower, there was a deathly silence. Only the howling wind and snow, and the ceaseless sounds of fighting and dying cries from the battlefield below, rose slowly like an icy tide, threatening to engulf everyone.

Gao Huaien slumped in the corner, his eyes unfocused, muttering unconsciously, "It's over...it's all over...the bandit leader is cunning...heaven has forsaken me..."

Qin Zhaoyang slowly closed his eyes. The icy air filled his lungs, carrying the smell of rust and death. Countless thoughts flashed through his mind: the cold imperial decrees, Gao Huaien's venomous face, Li Chong's blood-soaked roars, the desperate fighting of soldiers on the stockade walls, the mountains of mangled bodies piled high in the wounded soldiers' camp… and the defensive line on the sand table, slowly being swallowed by crimson…

No! It can't end here!

A violent, resentful force, like volcanic lava, suddenly exploded in the depths of his dormant heart! He, Qin Zhaoyang, had fought on the battlefield for twenty years, his robes stained with blood; how could he fall before this eunuch?! How could he fall to the schemes of this Northern Barbarian wolf cub?!

He suddenly opened his eyes! In those deep, pool-like eyes, all composure was replaced by an almost insane determination! Like a volcano about to erupt, suppressing a world-destroying power! He stepped to the edge of the watchtower, leaning forward, his gaze like a tangible blade, piercing fiercely into the chaotic, bloody battlefield below, piercing into the direction where the Di cavalry surged deep in the snowstorm!

"Where is the personal guard?!" Qin Zhaoyang's voice boomed like thunder from the heavens! Instantly drowning out all the sounds of wind and fighting! It carried a sense of tragic annihilation and resolute determination!

"Your subordinate is here!" The few remaining heavily armored guards behind him, as imposing as iron towers, roared in unison, their voices shaking the rooftops! They had already drawn their swords, their eyes burning with the fierce flame of loyalty to their commander!

"Beat the drums!" Qin Zhaoyang suddenly drew the anciently decorated bronze longsword from his waist! The blade pointed directly at the direction outside the gate, towards the most surging Di cavalry! "Gathering drums! Death drums! Beat them! Beat them until the drumsticks break!"

"Thump—!!!"

"Thump—!!!"

"Thump—!!!"

A heavy, slow drumbeat, like the pounding of a giant's heart, suddenly erupted from the top of the watchtower! One! Two! Three! This drumbeat was different from the previous rapid battle drums; it was slow, heavy, carrying a final, tragic, and resolute air before a mountain collapsed! Like a death knell, or a bugle call to charge! Instantly, it resounded throughout the entire boiling battlefield!

All the Qin soldiers who were still fighting, still resisting, still in fear, instinctively raised their heads at this moment! They looked at the towering watchtower of the gate! They looked at the figure standing in the wind and snow, sword in hand, as straight as a javelin!

The drumbeats, like an invisible torrent of iron, pounded into the hearts of every soldier! A tragic, fierce, and desperate spirit, like dry tinder being ignited, instantly rose in the despairing military camp!

"It's the general!"

"The general is on the watchtower!"

"The war drums are sound! The general is going to fight to the death!"

"Let's fight those bastards!"

"kill--!!!"

The morale, on the verge of collapse, was pulled back from the brink by the mournful drumbeats and the commander's resolute figure! On the stockade walls, exhausted soldiers erupted in a deafening roar! The previously crumbling defensive line, as if infused with an iron will, became resilient once more! The rolling logs and stones rained down even more furiously! The archers emptied their quivers of the last arrow! The halberdiers used their flesh and blood to desperately hold back the Di warriors' ascent!

"Send orders to all units!" Qin Zhaoyang's voice, like the clang of metal, drowned out the deafening drumbeats and battle cries. "Abandon all outer passes! Concentrate your forces! Hold the main camp walls to the death! Supply battalion! Set fire to the outer haystacks! Create a wall of fire! Prevent the enemy from getting close! Personal guard battalion! Follow me—" He swung his longsword fiercely, its blade tearing through the wind and snow, pointing directly at the Di cavalry main force outside the gate, surging like a black tide, attempting to regroup and launch another charge!

"—Open the door! Charge into battle!"

"Charge! Charge! Charge!" The roars of the personal guards behind him were like a mountain collapsing and a tsunami crashing down!

"No! Qin Zhaoyang! Are you crazy?!" Gao Huaien was terrified and scrambled over, grabbing Qin Zhaoyang's sleeve tightly. "The outside is full of Di dogs! Opening the door is suicide! Do you want the whole army wiped out?!"

Qin Zhaoyang suddenly flicked his sleeve, the force of which sent Gao Huaien flying like a broken sack, crashing heavily into the wooden pillar of the watchtower! He didn't even glance at the eunuch who was slumped on the ground like a rag doll, his cold gaze sweeping over Zhao Ran, the Left Vice Minister, who was also pale and trembling like a leaf beside him.

"Zhao Zuo Shuzhang!" Qin Zhaoyang's voice was as cold as ice. "Where is the secret edict from His Majesty that you brought?!"

Zhao Ran was startled by the sudden question and frantically pulled out a smaller, bright yellow brocade pouch sealed with sealing wax from her bosom. Her voice trembled uncontrollably as she stammered, "Here...here...His Majesty...ordered...unless...unless absolutely necessary..."

"This is a last resort!" Qin Zhaoyang snatched the brocade pouch, not even glancing at it, and with a forceful pull, the hard wax seal shattered! He pulled out a token that was neither gold nor wood, completely black, and icy cold to the touch! The token had a peculiar shape, resembling a broken knife, with an ancient seal character engraved on one side—"Suspended"!

Order to Suspend the Sword!

Legend has it that this order, granted by successive Qin emperors to their trusted ministers, granted the power to mobilize a hidden, highly dangerous, and clandestine force of assassins—"Hanging Blades"—directly under the emperor's command, to carry out the most dangerous and clandestine missions in times of national crisis and extreme military urgency. The cost was enormous, and such action was forbidden unless the nation was on the verge of collapse.

Qin Zhaoyang gripped the icy, bone-chilling token, its knuckles turning white from the force. He took one last look at the battlefield below, a scene of carnage, and at his comrades struggling, roaring, and dying amidst the blood and fire.

"Personnel troops! Open the gates!"

Without the slightest hesitation, he slammed the "Hanging Blade Token," a symbol of taboo and destructive power, onto the railing of the watchtower in front of him!

"Take this order! Go to the rear camp's death row! Tell those people inside—" Qin Zhaoyang's voice, as if from the deepest abyss, carried a resolute determination that could destroy everything, echoing through the wind and snow, "—their blades are rusty! It's time for bloodshed! Tell them that killing a Di cavalryman will lessen their sentence by one degree! Those who behead an enemy chieftain… will be pardoned from the death penalty! They will be reinstated to the Qin clan! This order is personally promised by me, Qin Zhaoyang! Heaven and earth bear witness!"

"Open the door!"

The heavy winch, with a teeth-grinding creak, was slowly turned! The massive iron-clad wooden door, amidst the swirling snow and countless horrified gazes, slowly opened a crack!

Beyond the crevice, a roaring black wave of death surges forth!

Holding a bronze longsword, Qin Zhaoyang was the first to step out of the watchtower, his figure like a shooting star drawn to a flame, resolutely throwing himself into the surging torrent of destruction! Behind him, the heavily armored elite guards of the personal guard charged out like tigers released from their cages! Deeper still, from the direction of the gloomy death row at the rear of the military camp, came faint, low roars, like caged beasts released from their cages, suppressed for far too long, filled with blood and violence...

At this moment, even the wind and snow seemed to freeze in the face of this overwhelming killing intent!