Onigahara Winter

Snow is not white.

The snow fell on the charred, withered trees, among the rotting corpses, and into the blood-soaked soil, already stained with a heavy ash. The wind rushed in from the northwest gap of Longshou Plain, swirling up the embers, carrying a pungent, burnt stench and a faint, sweet metallic scent, whirling and hissing. This wind swept across Xiao Yuxuan's cheek, like a knife, leaving rough, icy shards.

He trudged through this cursed land, his steps uneven. The soil beneath his feet was no longer the familiar, grass-scented earth of his homeland in Longxi. Each time his boots sank in and out, they made a sticky, gurgling sound, whipping up purplish-black, semi-solidified mud, and pulling out long, sticky strands that seemed to refuse to yield from the earth. This was blood, flesh, gunpowder, and rust, repeatedly frozen and thawed by the harsh winter, and trampled underfoot by countless desperate footsteps—the scab that had finally solidified, an ugly and poisonous scab covering the empire's enormous wound.

"Commander! Commander, please stop! We can't go any further!" The hoarse voice of Chen Zhong, the captain of the personal guard, rang out from behind, filled with barely suppressed panic. He abruptly reached out and grabbed the hem of Xiao Yuxuan's cloak, already stained beyond recognition by ice shards and ash, with such force that it almost tore the fabric apart. "The poisonous miasma of Ghost Plains... it starts in the afternoon! Even a little bit will cause flesh to fester and rot, rendering medicine ineffective!"

Xiao Yuxuan stopped in his tracks. His cloak was pulled taut, but he didn't turn around. He simply turned his head slightly, his gaze piercing through the gray snow and wind, and looked at the scene ten feet away that resembled a hellish construction site.

The ear-piercing scraping sound of metal was more grating than the howling of the cold wind. It was the sound of heavy iron chains dragging across the frozen earth. A hundred or so emaciated laborers, like a group of soulless puppets, their tattered clothes fluttering in the wind, revealing their bluish-purple frostbitten skin. Working in groups of several dozen, their shoulders bound by thick hemp ropes to massive iron chains, the ends of which were heavy rammed stones. They chanted incoherent work chants, each exertion accompanied by the groans of their bones straining under the weight, as they struggled to lift the massive rammed stones before slamming them down into the deep, frozen foundation.

Upon the stone base, a massive blue stone stele for suppressing souls was beginning to take shape. The stele was rough, clearly hastily carved. However, four distinctly Legalist seal characters—"Dragon Head Suppressing Souls"—were deeply engraved on its surface, their sharp angles and chilling aura still evident in the fresh, blood-stained stone dust at the edges of the strokes. This stele, like a cold, massive sword, pointed directly at the ravaged sky, attempting to suppress the countless unwilling souls beneath its cold stone body.

"Push harder! Haven't you eaten?! The base of the monument must be erected before dusk! Lord Yan Yang gave this order by word of mouth!" A sharp, harsh voice drowned out the shouts and howling wind. The foreman, Wang Xu, wrapped in a thick sheepskin coat, a ring-pommel sword at his waist, was brandishing a leather whip soaked in tung oil. The whip's tip cracked sharply in the gray air, striking precisely the back of an old laborer who had collapsed from exhaustion onto the cold, muddy ground.

"Ah—!" A piercing scream tore through the air. The old man's tattered shirt ripped open instantly, and a hideous welt quickly swelled up on his purplish-blue skin. He curled up, like a crushed worm, convulsing on the cold, muddy ground.

"You lowly creatures! How dare you defile this sacred site? You've delayed Lord Yan's appointed time! May your whole family be buried in this base of the monument!" Wang Xu cursed viciously, kicking the old man in the lower back.

Beneath the massive stone base of the Soul-Suppressing Monument, in a newly dug trench, lay three corpses hastily wrapped in tattered straw mats. A swollen, blackened ankle, covered with terrifying bluish-purple spiderweb-like spots, limply protruded from a hole in the mat, exposed beneath the grey snow. The color of those spots was strikingly similar to the viscous, purplish-black swamp in the distance, an eerie sight against the grey-white snow.

A chilling rage, more biting than the harsh winter of Longxi, surged from Xiao Yuxuan's feet to the top of his head. His right hand, gripping the hilt of his sword, tightened abruptly, his knuckles cracking slightly from the excessive force, the veins on the back of his hand bulging like gnarled poisonous vines. The cold bronze hilt seemed to sense its master's boiling killing intent, humming softly within its sheath.

"Clang."

A very faint metallic scraping sound rang out from his side. Xiao Yuxuan's wrist, which was resting on his sword, was gently pressed down by the jade hilt of a whisk. The jade hilt was warm and smooth, yet the force exerted carried an undeniable steadiness.

Xiao Yuxuan tilted his head slightly.

Xuanweizi had silently appeared half a step behind him. The old Taoist's faded blue robe fluttered in the raging wind, its hem submerged in the edge of the slowly spreading, oily, purplish-black poisonous swamp a few steps away. The poisonous mud touched the robe, immediately producing a slight sizzling sound and rising a wisp of smoke carrying a sweet, rotten smell. The fabric visibly charred and brittle.

Xuanweizi seemed oblivious. His eyes, which had witnessed countless vicissitudes but now held a deep compassion, did not look at the abusive overseer or the screaming laborers. Instead, they looked beyond the chaotic construction site towards the source of the swamp to the west of the Stele Forest, a swamp that churned and devoured all life in its vicinity. Several withered trees, completely corroded by the poisonous gas and long since devoid of life, lay diagonally in the swamp like twisted ghostly claws. On the highest branch of one of these trees hung a severed hand, dried and terrifyingly purplish-black, its five fingers outstretched in a grotesque manner, as if desperately grasping at something.

“Resentment breeds miasma, and malevolence breeds poison.” Xuanweizi’s voice was not loud, but it pierced through the howling wind and snow and the noise of the construction site with exceptional clarity. Every word was like a heavy lead weight, striking Xiao Yuxuan’s heart. The old Taoist slowly raised his whisk and pointed to the deadly swamp. “The resentment and poison in people’s hearts are even more severe than the miasma of the earth’s veins. Forcibly suppressing it is like adding fuel to the fire. Burning ten thousand steles and exhausting the people’s wealth is not as good as… saving one person’s life.”

“One survivor…” Xiao Yuxuan chewed on these four words, feeling as if a lump of hot sand was stuck in his throat. His gaze swept over the laborers struggling under the whip, over the silent corpses in the trenches, over the despairing severed hand on a withered branch in the distance. This land, soaked in blood and stained with resentment, even its breath carried the scent of death. One survivor? How easy could that be!

"Neigh—Ligh—!"

A rapid and loud neighing of horses, like tearing fabric, suddenly pierced the heavy silence of Longshou Plain. The sound of hooves, like a sudden storm, came from afar, crushing the snow and shattering this frozen scene of hell.

A jet-black steed from Hexi, its nostrils puffing out thick white vapor, charged into this hellish scene like an arrow released from a bow. The rider, clad in the black robes of a royal messenger, was weary from his long journey, his face bearing the marks of exhaustion and a barely perceptible hint of fear. Ignoring the chaotic construction site and the swirling poisonous miasma ahead, he spurred his horse straight towards Xiao Yuxuan's location.

"Governor-General Xiao Yuxuan of Hexi, receive the imperial edict—!" The envoy reined in his horse, which reared up with a long neigh, its hooves pounding heavily into the purplish-black mud, splashing up a cloud of poisonous filth. Without even dismounting, the envoy pulled a heavy bronze box covered in black bird patterns from his robes, and with a flick of his wrist, hurled it straight at Xiao Yuxuan!

Xiao Yuxuan's eyes narrowed, and his right hand shot out like lightning, his five fingers like hooks, steadily catching the flying bronze box in mid-air. It was cold and heavy to the touch, and the black bird totem engraved on it gleamed with a cold luster in the dim light of the sky.

The messenger then pulled out a roll of bright yellow silk from his saddlebag and threw it out with the same force, his voice carrying the unquestionable authority of a royal decree: "His Majesty issues an urgent decree! General Xiao Yuxuan is hereby appointed Governor-General of Hexi, in charge of military affairs, civil administration, and artisan work! Within three years, he shall pacify the border regions and restore peace to the people!"

A corner of a bright yellow silk scroll unfurled in the cold wind, bearing the decree of promotion written in solemn clerical script. However, beneath this scroll, a symbol of supreme glory and power, lay another, slightly inferior yet equally glaring crimson scroll. On that crimson scroll, a line of annotations written in vermilion ink, with strokes as sharp as knives and axes, instantly seared Xiao Yuxuan's eyes like a red-hot iron:

"Anyone who resists taxation shall be executed according to wartime laws. —Yan Yang, Tax Inspector"

That single character, "斩" (to behead), was written with thick, almost dripping vermilion ink. The murderous aura emanating from the brushstrokes was so intense it seemed to tear through the silk and pierce the heart! It was like a cold iron shackle, firmly binding the four characters "河西都督" (Hexi Governor), which symbolized power.

Power? No, it's a noose with barbs!

Xiao Yuxuan gripped the cold bronze box and the scalding hot silk, his body swaying almost imperceptibly. Slowly, very slowly, he bent his right knee, his left leg following suit, and knelt on one knee in the most perfect military salute on this scorched earth soaked with blood and poison, resentment and hatred.

His knees touched icy, poisonous mud. The sticky, slippery, and highly corrosive texture penetrated his heavy battle robes, reaching his very flesh. Yet, he seemed oblivious to the biting cold and burning pain.

His left hand, fingers spread wide, plunged violently into the thick, purplish-black frozen soil in front of him, which resembled a giant scab! Sharp pebbles, frozen clods of earth, and even tiny bone fragments, whether human or animal, instantly pierced the skin of his palm, and blood gushed out, immediately mixing with the filthy, poisonous mud.

The pain was sharp, but it paled in comparison to the tearing agony in my heart.

His fingertips groped and dug beneath the cold, sticky, decaying soil. His nails curled, and his fingertips were cut by sharp pebbles, blood mingling with the black mud, but he felt nothing. It was as if only this excruciating pain could slightly alleviate the anger and helplessness that was about to devour him.

Suddenly, my fingertips touched something hard, cold, and angular. It was half-buried in a deeper layer of soil, tightly wrapped by frozen earth.

Xiao Yuxuan paused, a strange light flashing in his eyes. He dug even harder, ignoring the excruciating pain tearing at his palms. The surrounding soil was stained a deeper dark red by his blood.

Finally, as a small patch of frozen soil was lifted, the thing was revealed.

It's half a ruler.

The ruler is charred black, as if it had been thrown into the most intense furnace fire, with twisted and carbonized marks on its edges. However, its unique and regular shape, as well as the regular serrations left on the ruler for precise measurement—although most of them have been burned or corroded—clearly indicate its identity: this is a ruler used by the Mohist disciples to investigate things, acquire knowledge, and measure the world!

What's even more shocking is that, miraculously, a deeply engraved seal character, licked by the flames, survived the scorching flames, its strokes clear and powerful, penetrating the back of the ruler.

"install"!

A word that seems so pale, so extravagant, yet so heart-wrenching in a land of mountains of corpses, seas of blood, and rampant poisonous miasma!

The biting wind suddenly intensified, whipping up even larger swirling sleet, like a shower of paper money, violently lashing against Xiao Yuxuan's face and eyelashes. The icy snowflakes struck his skin, yet he felt no cold. He stared intently at the half-charred Mo family ruler in his palm, at the deeply etched character "An" (peace/safety) on it, his body trembling slightly uncontrollably.

Father…was he a Mohist from a previous generation? Is this ruler engraved with the character “An” his remaining belief? Or…did he ultimately become part of this scorched earth?

"BOOM—!!!"

A deafening roar erupted without warning, as if the sky had fallen and the earth had split open!

The loud noise came from the massive Soul-Suppressing Monument, whose base was being vigorously pounded down by laborers!

Near the northwest corner of the base of the monument, a large piece of bluestone, about the size of a millstone, seemed to have been torn apart and shattered from the inside by an invisible force! The fragments, carrying dust and smoke, shot out in all directions like a torrential rain! The nearest group of laborers screamed as they were struck by the flying stones and fell to the ground instantly.

"It's collapsed! The monument has collapsed! Run!" Terrified screams erupted among the laborers like a plague, and desperate chaos instantly replaced their numb labor. The crowd scrambled about like headless flies, completely drowning out the whip and curses of the overseer, Wang Xu.

Amidst the billowing smoke and dust, Xiao Yuxuan's gaze, sharp as a hawk's, pierced through the chaotic crowd and swirling dust, fixing fixedly on the crack in the crumbling base of the monument.

Deep within the newly torn, jagged crevice of the rocks, a sliver of pale light faintly reflected the sky against the gray backdrop.

That's not a stone.

It was a bone fragment, roughly two fingers wide and one finger long. The bone fragment had been roughly polished into the shape of a blood-dripping wolf's head, with its fangs bared and its eye sockets hollow, exuding a primal and ferocious evil aura. On the forehead of the wolf's head, there seemed to be some kind of dark red paint used to paint an extremely tiny, distorted symbol, indistinct yet instilling a strange sense of unease.

This hideous bone talisman was strangely stuck in the crack of the base of the Soul-Suppressing Monument, which symbolized suppression and order, like a mockery from hell, a vicious foreshadowing that had just been accidentally revealed from the depths of this land of suffering.

The snow fell even heavier, and the wind, carrying the ominous aura of the bone talisman, howled across Dragon Head Plain. Xiao Yuxuan knelt on one knee in the cold, poisonous mud, his left hand tightly gripping the charred ruler half inscribed with the character "An," his palm aching from the sharp edges, the blood from which had already frozen solid. His right hand, however, clutched the bright yellow silk scroll containing the "Execution" order.

He slowly raised his head. Beneath his eyelashes, which were covered with gray snow and ice shards, his eyes, which had once reflected mountains of corpses and seas of blood, and had once ignited tiny sparks, were now as deep as a cold pool, reflecting the collapsed giant monument, the chaotic crowd, the surging poisonous miasma, and the blood-dripping wolf skull talisman that was faintly reflecting light in the crack of the monument's base.

Xuanweizi lightly flicked his whisk, dispersing some of the dust that had drifted nearby. His deep voice carried a desolate wisdom that seemed to understand everything: "Governor, this seal of the Governor of Hexi... is it burning hot or cold in your hand?"

Xiao Yuxuan didn't answer immediately. He slowly stood up, his tall figure like a silent stone statue in the wind and snow. His knees left the poisonous mud, leaving two deep marks mixed with dark red blood. He opened his left hand, the half-charred ruler lying quietly in his palm, the character "An" appearing so faint yet so stubborn in the dim light.

His gaze swept over the chaotic, fleeing laborers like frightened birds, over the purplish-black poisonous swamp in the distance that was constantly devouring life, over the scorch marks on the hem of Xuanweizi's Taoist robe that were still being eroded by the poisonous mud, and finally settled on the heavy roll of bright yellow silk in his hand.

Three years. The borderlands were pacified. The people were allowed to recuperate.

cut!

Each word felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, pressing down on his spine.

He suddenly took a step, not towards the safe rear, nor towards the chaotic construction site, but straight towards the edge of the purplish-black poisonous swamp that churned with the aura of death. His boots sank into the viscous mud again, making a chilling "plop" sound.

Under the astonished gazes of Xuanweizi and Chen Zhong, Xiao Yuxuan walked to the edge of the poisonous swamp and bent down. He stretched out his uninjured right hand, spread his five fingers, and plunged it into the cold, sticky, bubbling poisonous mud!

"Commander! No!" Chen Zhong cried out in alarm, trying to rush forward.

Xuanweizi raised his hand to stop him, his cloudy old eyes fixed on Xiao Yuxuan's movements.

Xiao Yuxuan's arm thrashed about in the poisonous mud, as if groping for something. The viscous venom flowed down his thick forearm, instantly causing ominous red marks and burning pain on the skin it touched. A few breaths later, he suddenly exerted force and pulled his arm out of the poisonous swamp!

What he brought out was a large, irregularly shaped object covered in purplish-black poisonous mud. He walked to the relatively dry and hard ground and slammed the object down heavily.

"Bang!"

Poisonous mud splattered everywhere. He kicked away the mud covering the stone with his boot, revealing what was inside—a huge, angular, blue fragment of a soul-suppressing monument! It was the very piece that had just been blown away!

Xiao Yuxuan bent down, picked up a fist-sized, sharp piece of gravel, and walked to the massive remnant of the stele. He took a deep breath, the pungent, poisonous stench filling his lungs. Then, he raised the gravel high and, with all his might, slammed it down onto the smooth, flat surface of the stele, inscribed with cold Legalist seal script!

"Clang! Clang—!"

A piercing sound of metal clashing against stone rang out! The gravel and bluestone collided violently, sending sparks flying!

The first stroke left only a faint white dot on the hard surface of the monument.

Xiao Yuxuan acted as if he hadn't seen anything, and swung his arm up and down again! He swung it up again and down again!

"Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang—!"

The monotonous, heavy tapping sound, again and again, stubbornly echoed across the howling wind and snow of Longshou Plain. Each strike was accompanied by the bulging of his arm muscles and the throbbing veins on his forehead. The pebbles crumbled quickly in his hands, and he would pick up an even larger piece.

The laborers' chaos seemed to be drawn by this abrupt and persistent sound, and gradually subsided. Countless numb, panicked, and confused gazes were cast upon the figure frantically pounding on the cold stone tablet at the edge of the poisonous swamp.

The foreman, Wang Xu, was also stunned, forgetting to crack the whip, his face a mixture of fear and confusion.

Xuanweizi watched quietly, the whisk in his hand moving on its own without any wind.

finally!

"Snap!"

With a crisp cracking sound, under Xiao Yuxuan's tireless hammering, imbued with all his anger and conviction, a spiderweb-like crack appeared on the surface of the hard remnant of the Soul-Suppressing Monument! Immediately afterward, a palm-sized, sharp-edged fragment shattered and fell onto the purplish-black poisonous mud.

Xiao Yuxuan stopped moving. He was breathing heavily, white mist billowing from his mouth and nose, instantly dispersed by the cold wind. He bent down and picked up the broken, sharp-edged fragment of the blue stone tablet.

The shards were icy cold, and their sharp edges cut his fingers, drawing blood that slowly trickled down the edges of the fragments.

Holding the fragment as if it were a bloodstained dagger, he walked step by step back to Xuanweizi and Chen Zhong. He opened his left hand and gently placed the half of the charred ruler engraved with the character "An" on the bloodstained blue stone fragment.

A cold, impersonal Mohist ruler; blood-stained fragments of a Soul-Suppressing Stele. One symbolizes "peace," the other "suppression." One is charred and broken, the other jagged and menacing. One is a relic from the ashes of their ancestors, the other a symbol of a crumbling empire.

They lay side by side on Xiao Yuxuan's palm, which was corroded by poisonous mud, cut by gravel, and now stained with fresh blood, creating a silent yet extremely impactful scene.

Xiao Yuxuan's face, covered in snow and ice, was expressionless. Only his eyes, deep as an icy pool, looked past Xuan Weizi and Chen Zhong, gazing into the distance at the figures of laborers struggling like ants in the gray-white snowstorm. His voice was low and hoarse, like the grinding of gravel, each word seemingly squeezed from the depths of his chest, laced with blood:

"Master Xuanwei."

"exist."

"The school... its first pillar will be laid with this." He slightly raised the hand that held the ruler and the fragments of the stone tablet.

Xuanweizi's gaze fell on the blood-stained fragments of the stone tablet, then shifted to the charred half of the ruler, and finally, looked deeply into Xiao Yuxuan's eyes, which burned with a silent, raging fire. The old Taoist slowly and solemnly bowed in respect.

“Amitabha. Governor, this pillar was erected not to shelter from the wind and rain, but to… support this collapsed sky.”

The wind and snow intensified, a gray-white curtain of snow blanketing the land. Xiao Yuxuan stood tall at the edge of the Ghost Plain, his left hand cradling two incredibly heavy objects, his right hand tightly gripping the bronze box and silk cloth symbolizing power and shackles, like a silent boundary marker. Blood from his palm dripped heavily, drop by drop, from the cold, fragmented stone, falling into the purplish-black poisonous mud at his feet, spreading a small patch of dark red before being swallowed up by the churning filth.

The blood-dripping wolf skull talisman, stuck in the crack of the Soul-Suppressing Monument, still faintly reflected a light amidst the swirling snow.