Shuai Yinhan
A north wind howled across the border wall, its mournful cry like a wolf's howl. Heavy winter clouds hung overhead, like leaden blocks, and snow began to fall—not fine frost, but large, wet flakes that melted upon contact with the ground. Inside the camp, the air was thick and heavy, yet strangely warm. The veterans huddled in sheltered corners, rubbing their chapped hands, their cloudy eyes darting anxiously towards the camp gate. Warhorses puffed out white steam from their stalls, their hooves repeatedly striking the frozen ground like the beating of an ominous drum.
“This snow…it’s eerie,” a gray-bearded old soldier muttered in a low voice, “In previous years at this time, the wind would have been biting so hard it hurt your face, and the cold would seep into your bones. This year, the snow is soft and lukewarm, like the paper money scattered at a funeral in the south…” A younger soldier next to him suddenly looked up, his eyes sharp as a hawk’s, and glared at the old soldier, forcing him to swallow his next words.
"Silence!" he hissed, his gaze sweeping over the several faces around him, all etched with the same astonishment, finally settling on the Qin commander's banner hanging low and motionless in the damp snow at the central command tent in the distance. The banner, heavy with moisture, could no longer flutter and stir the winds as it once did in the fierce northern winds. An invisible yet heavy pressure, like the unusually warm snow, silently seeped into and covered the entire camp, making it hard to breathe. The experienced veterans, however, detected not the dampness, but a more suffocating stench beyond rust and blood.
A sudden commotion erupted at the camp gate, followed by a long, deep, and urgent blast of a bugle. The sound tore through the heavy, damp air, carrying an almost mournful tone. The sound of hooves grew louder as the rain fell, shattering the stagnant silence of the camp. A troop of valiant armored soldiers, escorting several fast horses, swept through the camp like an iron torrent, carrying mud, snow, and a biting chill. Leading the way was a man in a crimson official robe, with a white face, no beard, and sharp, hooked eyes—the supervising eunuch Gao Huai'en. Behind him followed a solemn-faced civil official in a dark blue robe, carrying a long, bright yellow brocade box, its imposing form standing out starkly against the gray sky. At the rear of the procession were dozens of palace guards in black armor, carrying powerful crossbows. Their eyes, visible beneath their helmets, were cold and hard as they silently surveyed the border soldiers arrayed on either side, their gazes filled with undisguised scrutiny and aloofness. The style of their armor and the standard-issue swords at their waists all proclaimed that they came from that distant, magnificent palace.
"Imperial edict has arrived—General Qin Zhaoyang, who is in charge of the Western Expedition, receive the edict immediately!"
Gao Huaien's sharp, high-pitched voice, like a cold awl, pierced the frozen air. The last note trembled slightly, yet it resonated clearly in the ears of every soldier.
---
Inside the command tent, candlelight blazed. Qin Zhaoyang was bent over a massive sand table. Carved from a single massive piece of bluestone, the table's edges were rough, yet the mountains and ravines within were rendered with exquisite detail. The ochre-brown clay sculptures depicted undulating mountains, while the narrow earthen ridges representing the border walls meandered outwards. Beyond these, jagged valleys, passes, and forests were meticulously laid out with fine sand of varying colors. Small flags representing the enemy's position were densely packed at key points: his own side was a deep black, while the enemy's was a striking scarlet. He wore a worn black robe, without armor, yet his figure remained as upright as a lone pine tree on a cliff. Hearing the announcement outside the tent, his hand holding the flag paused slightly in mid-air. The tip of the small scarlet "enemy" flag hovered on the sand table at the strategic point marked "Black Wind Pass," like a drop of congealed blood.
He slowly raised his head. His face, illuminated by the flickering candlelight within the tent, revealed sharply defined features, several deep wrinkles running from the corners of his eyes to his temples, like marks etched by the harsh winds of the frontier. His eyes, honed by years of gazing at wind and sand and the clash of swords, now flickered with a barely perceptible ripple of emotion. The only two guards in the tent—burly men clad in half-armored suits and bronze longswords at their waists—gripped their sword hilts, their knuckles white from the pressure, their gazes piercing, fixed intently on the direction of the tent flap.
"Please invite the military supervisor into the tent." Qin Zhaoyang's voice was not loud, but it was as steady as a rock landing, instantly suppressing all the noise outside the tent.
The heavy felt curtain was abruptly thrown open, letting in a rush of damp, cold, earthy scent that diluted the strong smell of pine resin and candle smoke inside the tent. Gao Huai'en stepped in first, his crimson robe gleaming coldly in the candlelight. Behind him, a civil official carrying a bright yellow brocade box and four black-armored warriors filed in. The warriors' heavy iron boots pounded on the compacted earth, producing a dull thud that seemed to strike at the heart. The space inside the tent suddenly felt cramped and oppressive.
Gao Huaien stopped, his gaze sharp as a hook. He first swept over Qin Zhaoyang, then landed on the huge sand table, lingering for a moment on the small, scarlet flag hovering over "Black Wind Pass." A subtle, enigmatic smile played at the corners of his lips. He didn't immediately issue the decree; instead, he stepped forward and gently ran his well-maintained, almost translucent white fingers across the cold, blue stone edge of the sand table.
“General Qin,” Gao Huaien began, his voice high-pitched and deliberately drawn out, “what an exquisite map! The terrain, the enemy's and our own positions, are all contained within this small space. General, you toil day and night, your heart set on the defense of the borders; I… deeply admire you.” His tone shifted, his gaze suddenly sharpening, “But I wonder, General, have you ever considered… the changing winds within the Xianyang Palace on this sand table? Have you accurately predicted… His Majesty's current thoughts?”
He stepped slightly to make way for the civil official behind him: "Zhao Ran, the Left Chancellor, has traveled day and night from Xianyang on His Majesty's oral decree and secret edict." The civil official Zhao Ran stepped forward, his expression solemn, and held the bright yellow brocade box to his chest with both hands, his movements meticulous, as if he were holding a sacred artifact of the state.
Gao Huaien stopped looking at Qin Zhaoyang, his gaze sweeping over the two guards inside the tent. His voice suddenly rose, carrying an undeniable air of authority: "Guards before the palace, listen to my command! Maintain vigilance outside the tent! Any unauthorized personnel who approach within ten paces of the commander's tent—beheaded!"
"Yes, sir!" The four armored warriors responded in unison, their voices like the clang of metal, causing the candlelight inside the tent to flicker violently. They turned and left the tent, the heavy curtains falling to separate the inside from the outside. Only five people remained inside: Qin Zhaoyang, Gao Huaien, Zhao Ran, and two personal guards standing with their hands on their swords.
The air seemed to solidify into lead. The crackling sound of burning pine resin sounded particularly jarring at that moment.
Gao Huaien then withdrew his gaze with satisfaction and looked at Qin Zhaoyang. The fake smile on his face vanished completely, leaving only a cold scrutiny and a condescending air of authority. "General Qin, receive the decree," he said in a shrill voice, like the hooting of an owl.
Zhao Ran took a deep breath, stepped forward, and solemnly opened the bright yellow brocade box. Inside, lined with bright yellow silk, lay a bronze seal, about half a foot square. The seal knob was a crouching tiger, poised to pounce, its form fierce and menacing. The tiger's eyes, inlaid with rare crimson gemstones, gleamed with a cold, blood-red light in the candlelight. The seal itself was ancient and heavy, covered with intricate taotie patterns, exuding a desolate and chilling aura from antiquity. The seal was face down, obscuring the inscription, but its heavy texture, the ferocious tiger knob, and the bright yellow background symbolizing supreme military power all proclaimed its identity—the Tiger Tally Seal of the General Who Conquers the West.
However, beside this tiger tally, a symbol of power and trust, lay a similarly bright yellow silk scroll. The scroll was small, yet it exuded an aura even colder than the tiger tally.
Qin Zhaoyang's gaze lingered for a moment on the menacing tiger tally. Its cold bronze luster reflected in his deep, pool-like eyes. He lifted the hem of his robe, knelt on one knee, his movement as steady as the stillness before a mountain collapses. Two guards followed suit, their armor plates clashing with a dull thud.
"Your subject, General Qin Zhaoyang, who is in charge of the Western Expedition, respectfully listens to Your Majesty's decree." His voice remained calm, without the slightest hint of emotion.
Zhao Ran carefully picked up the scroll of bright yellow silk, unfolded it, and read it aloud in a flat, emotionless tone, yet each word pierced the eardrums like an ice pick:
"The Emperor decrees: You, General Qin Zhaoyang, who has been appointed to lead the elite troops on this perilous frontier, should be pacifying the borders and bringing peace to the people, displaying your might in the distant lands. Yet you have amassed a large army abroad, yet have remained indecisive, wasting national funds and depleting supplies. How has the small territory of Heifeng Pass become a breeding ground for your hesitation and fear of the enemy? Is it due to your incompetence, or... that you harbor ulterior motives? Now the Northern Barbarians are rampant, with frequent beacon fires, and you, with your mighty army, have allowed them to breach our borders, plunder our people, and destroy our crops!" This is not merely a disgrace to the generals, but a humiliation to the nation! I am deeply troubled, and the court is in uproar. Considering your past minor contributions, I will temporarily retain you in your post to observe your future performance. However, the enemy at Black Wind Pass must be completely wiped out within one month! Any further delay or hesitation will allow this barbarian to grow stronger and the border troubles to intensify… Military law is strict, and national laws are in place! Do not say you were not warned! Furthermore, I bestow upon you the Tiger Tally, granting you renewed command of the three armies. I hope you will understand the will of Heaven, fight bravely like an eagle, and wipe away this past shame! So be it!
The contents of the imperial edict struck the silent command tent like a heavy hammer. The cold rebuke, the naked suspicion, the harsh deadline, and the final condescending "I bestow upon you the tiger tally"—every word was like a whip dipped in salt water, lashing at the hearts of Qin Zhaoyang and his personal guards.
"Wasting national funds and depleting supplies"... "Hesitating and fearing the enemy"... "Having ulterior motives"... "Possessing a powerful army"... "A disgrace to the nation"...
Every single word weighs more than a thousand pounds!
The younger guard's forehead veins bulged, his hand on the sword hilt trembled violently from the extreme force, his knuckles cracking, a surge of hot blood rushing to his head, almost bursting out of his throat as he roared! He suddenly raised his eyes, bloodshot and filled with anger and humiliation, staring intently at Zhao Ran, who was reading the imperial edict, and Gao Huaien, who stood beside him with a cold smile on his lips.
"Hmm?" Gao Huaien keenly caught that gaze, letting out a cold snort of utter contempt. He didn't look at the guard, but instead turned his gaze to Qin Zhaoyang, who was still kneeling on one knee, head bowed, listening to the order. His eyes were like those of a venomous snake, coiled with scrutiny and warning.
At that very moment, when tensions were running high and the air seemed about to explode—
"Your Majesty..." Qin Zhaoyang's voice rang out, interrupting the guard's almost out-of-control anger. His voice was not loud, but it strangely suppressed all the tense sounds in the tent, carrying a kind of stability that sank to the ground, as if those heart-wrenching rebukes were just a breeze brushing against the mountain rocks.
He raised his head, his face still revealing no emotion, only a rock-solid calm. He slowly raised his hands, reaching them across his body, steadily extending them towards the bright yellow silk scroll and the brocade box containing the ferocious tiger tally in Zhao Ran's hands.
"...Qin Zhaoyang, obey the decree." The last three words were clear, steady, and even carried a hint of calm as if the dust had settled.
He steadily accepted the heavy document symbolizing the will of imperial power and the bronze tiger tally, imbued with suspicion and murderous intent. They were icy cold to the touch; the crimson gemstone on the tiger's knob, like congealed blood, coldly reflected in his calm eyes.
Zhao Ran visibly relaxed, her tense body easing. A barely perceptible hint of disappointment flashed in Gao Huaien's eyes, quickly replaced by a deeper, more sinister look. He stared at Qin Zhaoyang's hands as he took the tiger tally; those hands, with their large, calloused knuckles, held the heavy bronze tally firmly, without moving an inch.
“General Qin,” Gao Huaien’s shrill voice rang out again, breaking the eerie silence, “His Majesty’s grace is boundless. Though he reprimanded me sternly, he ultimately returned the tiger tally and entrusted me with a heavy responsibility. The enemy at Black Wind Pass…” He paced to the sand table, extended his slender fingers, and precisely pointed at the small scarlet flag representing the enemy’s heavy troop concentration, his nails almost digging into the sand, “…is a thorn in our side! A month will pass in the blink of an eye. General, how should we ‘fight bravely like eagles’ to repay the Emperor’s grace and avenge our past humiliation?” He deliberately emphasized the words “fight bravely like eagles” and “avenge our past humiliation,” his gaze like a poisoned needle piercing Qin Zhaoyang.
The flickering candlelight inside the tent cast Gao Huaien's long, distorted shadow on the sand table, like a phantom waiting to strike.
Qin Zhaoyang slowly stood up. The hem of his robe brushed against the cold, muddy ground without making a sound. He handed the heavy scroll and brocade box to the older guard behind him. The guard accepted them with both hands, his movements steady, but his eyes were like a deep, cold pool, suppressing a turbulent undercurrent.
Qin Zhaoyang's gaze finally shifted from the tiger tally in his hand to the sand table, landing on the scarlet dot that Gao Huaien was pointing to—Black Wind Pass. His gaze seemed tangible, piercing through the small flag, as if he could see the endless enemy camps beyond the pass, the forest of swords and spears, and even deeper, the Northern Di royal court brewing a blizzard.
“My lord,” Qin Zhaoyang began, his voice low and devoid of emotion, yet possessing a strange penetrating power, as if piercing through the howling wind outside the tent, “Black Wind Pass is no small place. It is flanked by two mountains, resembling a throat, with a narrow valley passage that can only allow three riders to pass abreast. The enemy chieftain Ashina Tulu is as cunning as a fox and as ruthless as a wolf, commanding over ten thousand elite cavalry. They hold their position in a strategic location, with deep trenches and high walls, and have deployed powerful bows and crossbows extensively along the mountain ridges on both sides. If our army launches a direct assault, charging up the narrow passage, it would be tantamount to driving sheep into the jaws of a tiger, only resulting in the loss of our elite troops and failing to shake their foundation.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the small black flags representing his own forces on the sand table. Those flags appeared tiny and fragile before the scarlet marker representing Black Wind Pass. "Our army has just suffered heavy losses in the Battle of Stone Ridge, the infantry are especially exhausted, and our armor and weapons urgently need repair. The transport of provisions from Yunzhong County to here is arduous, the mountain roads are rugged, and with the melting snow, the roads are muddy and difficult to traverse. Of ten cartloads of provisions, less than half have reached the camp. Orders to reduce rations have already been issued in the army; the soldiers' stomachs are rumbling with hunger, how can they be driven to fight to the death?"
Qin Zhaoyang's words calmly stated the cold truth, like plotting the next move in a game of chess on a sand table. Each word was like a heavy stone, striking Gao Huaien and Zhao Ran's hearts. Gao Huaien's cold smile gradually froze; his sharp question was silenced by the ironclad facts. Zhao Ran's face paled slightly, and her hand holding the empty brocade box unconsciously tightened.
"Your Majesty is anxious, how could I not know?" Qin Zhaoyang raised his gaze again, looking at Gao Huaien. In the depths of his eyes, something heavy seemed to be slowly gathering. "The goal of clearing Black Wind Pass in one month... is not a failure of the war effort, but rather that the timing, location, and popular support were all against us. Forcibly driving exhausted troops to attack fortified strongholds is not a 'valiant and soaring' effort, but rather... a futile attempt to destroy the nation's foundation."
He leaned forward slightly, closer to the massive sand table, and pointed to the towering mountain markings on either side of Black Wind Pass: "To break through Black Wind Pass, a direct assault is the worst possible strategy. We need a cunning plan. First, send elite soldiers to circle around the cliffs and burn the grain and haystacks on the mountain ridges, cutting off their lifeline. Second, use elite cavalry to feign an attack, luring their main force out of the valley for open battle, then ambush and annihilate them. Third..." His finger moved to a very thin, almost negligible, faint mark on the edge of the sand table, "...This is the 'Ghost's Sorrow' ancient road, abandoned for a century, overgrown with thorns, devoid of birds and beasts. However, if we send a surprise force to cut through the thorns and brambles along this secret path, we might be able to circle around to the rear of the enemy camp at Black Wind Pass, cutting off their retreat and forming an encirclement with the main army! Only by implementing these three strategies simultaneously can we have a sliver of hope for victory."
Qin Zhaoyang's voice was not loud, but every word was clear and logical. He analyzed the perilous terrain of Black Wind Pass, the cunning of the enemy, the predicament of his own side, and the seemingly impossible opportunity for victory as if he could read the lines on the palm of his hand. The candlelight flickered in the tent, illuminating his resolute profile. His focused expression made it seem as if the entire world had shrunk to just the small sand table in front of him.
The gloom on Gao Huaien's face was replaced by a look of surprise and uncertainty. Although he was not knowledgeable in military affairs, he could tell that Qin Zhaoyang's analysis was reasonable and not just evasive. The "Ghost's Bane" secret path was something he had never heard of before! He subconsciously followed Qin Zhaoyang's finger to the faint engraving, as if it were a venomous snake leading to an unknown abyss.
“However,” Qin Zhaoyang’s voice suddenly turned deep, carrying an immense weight, “each of these three strategies requires time! The suicide squads scaling the cliffs cannot be accomplished in ten days; luring the enemy out of the valley requires patient maneuvering; the ‘Ghost-Sorrow’ ancient road is overgrown with thorns and shrouded in miasma, requiring elite scouts to repeatedly explore the path and clear the obstacles before the army can proceed! A month…” He slowly shook his head, the weight of his movement making it hard to breathe, “…In such a hasty and laborious effort, what are the chances of success? Supervising Officer, Zhao Zuo, you two have come from Xianyang and are well-versed in court politics. Please carefully consider the implications and, on my behalf… speak to the Emperor!”
He emphasized the phrase "turn the tables on the emperor," his gaze fixed intently on Gao Huaien and Zhao Ran. This was not a request, but a declaration of intent akin to a showdown; a seasoned veteran, drawing upon his profound understanding of war, was issuing a final warning to the messengers from the imperial court.
A deathly silence fell over the command tent.
The wind outside the tent seemed to grow stronger, howling and wailing like the cries of countless dead souls. The damp, cold air seeped in through the gaps in the thick felt, causing the candlelight to flicker and cast long, short, twisted, and swaying shadows of the people inside the tent.
Gao Huaien's expression shifted rapidly. Qin Zhaoyang's analysis was like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing some of his smugness at using the situation to exert pressure. He stared at the faint engraving on the sand table called "Ghost's Bane," as if trying to see through it. This old scoundrel, could he truly possess extraordinary abilities? Even knowing about this secret path that had been abandoned for a hundred years? But that "one-month deadline" was His Majesty's golden decree, and also a knife handed over by certain people in the court! How could he easily retract that knife?
He glanced at Zhao Ran out of the corner of his eye. The Left Vice Minister was pale, his lips moving slightly as if he wanted to say something, but he was forced back by Gao Huaien's cold gaze. He could only hold the empty brocade box tightly, his knuckles turning white.
A short, cold laugh suddenly escaped Gao Huaien's throat, breaking the suffocating silence. His narrow eyes narrowed as he looked at Qin Zhaoyang again, his gaze like a poisoned icicle.
“General Qin,” he began slowly, his voice regaining its deliberately high-pitched quality, yet even colder, “what a penetrating analysis of military affairs! What an unfathomable ‘Ghost-Slaying’ secret path! General, you are indeed well-versed in military matters, your reputation is well-deserved.” His tone abruptly shifted, like a viper striking, “However, what you have said are all difficulties, all obstacles! What His Majesty desires is results! The victory report from Black Wind Pass! What the officials of the court desire is the pacification of the border troubles! The display of national power!”
He took a sudden step forward, his crimson robe sleeves whipping up a chilling wind that almost brushed against the sand table. His finger pointed fiercely at the scarlet "Black Wind Pass" mark once more: "One month! Only one month! This is His Majesty's decree! It's an ironclad rule! Military orders are like mountains, how can they be bargained for? General, you're here talking to me about difficulties, about chances of victory, do you perhaps want me... to defy the decree for you?!" The last sentence suddenly rose in pitch, sharp and piercing, like the shriek of a night owl, filled with naked threat.
"General, do not forget!" Gao Huai'en's voice, like a viper's tongue, licked the cold air. "This commander's seal and tiger tally were bestowed by His Majesty! And can... be taken back at any time! In the Battle of Shiling in Longxi, thousands of elite troops were lost, and countless provisions were wasted, yet the victory was not achieved, allowing the Black Wind Pass bandits to rise again... There has long been criticism in the court! If His Majesty had not remembered your past service and overruled the objections, you would probably be in the Imperial Prison right now, practicing your sand table against the walls of the Imperial Prison!" His cold gaze swept over the hands of the two guards behind Qin Zhaoyang, who were resting on their sword hilts, and a cruel smile curled at the corner of his mouth. "These fierce warriors under your command are commendable for their loyalty and bravery. But I wonder, when you are imprisoned, for whom will their fervent blood boil? And against whom will their swords be slashed?"
Every word pierces the heart! Every sentence is like a knife!
The young guard's eyes were bloodshot, almost bursting with rage. His hand on his sword trembled violently, his teeth chattered, and a violent killing intent was about to burst through the dam of reason! He stared intently at Gao Huaien's effeminate yet vicious face, his chest heaving like a fully drawn bowstring, ready to unleash a deadly arrow in the next instant!
The older guard grabbed his companion's arm, which was about to draw his sword, with astonishing strength. His face was ashen, veins throbbing on his forehead, but his gaze was fixed on Qin Zhaoyang's back, like a drowning man grasping at the last piece of driftwood.
Qin Zhaoyang remained standing, his figure as immovable as a mountain. Gao Huaien's vicious words, like whistling arrows striking cold iron armor, produced only a dull thud, failing to shake him in the slightest. He slowly raised his eyes, his gaze passing over the sharp-tongued eunuch before him, and landing on the rough beams of the command tent's ceiling. The candlelight flickered in his deep eyes, shifting uncertainly, as if two forces were fiercely tearing and colliding within them.
On one side was the cold reality: the natural barrier of Black Wind Pass, the cunning of the enemy chieftain, the soldiers' exhaustion, the difficulty of the supply lines… a direct assault would be a dead end, a surprise attack would take time. On the other side was the even colder imperial power: the unquestionable deadline, the scathing rebuke inscribed on the silk scroll, the menacing tiger tally still warm in his hands yet as heavy as a shackle, and the eunuch's undisguised murderous intent and framing before him! The old grievances of the Battle of Shiling had now become a sharp blade hanging overhead.
Time has become the most luxurious thing, and also the most deadly poison.
On the sand table, the "Black Wind Gap," that point of scarlet, seemed to come alive under the flickering candlelight, constantly twisting and expanding, transforming into a grinning giant mouth, ready to devour everything in front of it.
Gao Huaien watched with satisfaction as Qin Zhaoyang fell silent. His sinister gaze, like a leech, greedily sought out every subtle change in the other's face. He knew that his poisonous dart had already drawn blood. He slowly strolled to the general's desk, where a crudely decorated bronze longsword lay. He extended his well-maintained fingers, with an almost sacrilegious gesture, and gently brushed them across the cold scabbard. His nails scraped against the raised bronze taotie patterns, producing a subtle yet teeth-grinding grinding sound.
“General,” Gao Huaien’s voice flowed slowly like venom, carrying a cruel, cat-and-mouse-like pleasure, “His Majesty has given you a deadline, but also an opportunity. Within a month, you will quell the Black Wind Pass, forgive all past grievances, and achieve outstanding merit, bringing glory to your family and blessings to your descendants. Otherwise…” He drew out the last syllable, his finger slamming down on the scabbard with a sharp crack, “…this sword that has accompanied you through many battles will likely have to be hung somewhere else. As for your loyal and brave men…” His gaze swept over his two guards like a viper, “…according to the Qin Dynasty’s Military Rank Law, if a commander fails to meet the deadline and is afraid to fight, resulting in the army being exhausted and achieving nothing, all his officers above the rank of centurion… will be implicated! At best, they will be stripped of their rank and punished with labor; at worst…they will be beheaded and their heads displayed as a warning to others!”
The words "collective punishment" struck like a heavy hammer against the hearts of everyone in the tent! The two guards, in particular, turned deathly pale. The younger guard shuddered violently, the veins on the back of his hand gripping his sword bulging, his knuckles bloodless from the excessive force, and the raging fire in his eyes was now veiled by the cold, despairing frost of this law. The older guard's breathing became heavy, his teeth clenched tightly, his jaw muscles twitching violently.
Gao Huaien took it all in, the cruel smile on his lips growing ever more pronounced. This was exactly the effect he wanted. Destroying a renowned general sometimes doesn't require a massive army; all it takes is a single, heavy straw to break the backs of those around him.
The air inside the tent was as thick as congealed blood. The crackling of burning pine resin sounded like a countdown hourglass, begging for death. The wind outside howled even more fiercely, and the wet snow pounded against the felt with a dull thud, as if countless cold ghosts were lurking outside the tent, waiting for their chance to devour it.
Qin Zhaoyang finally made a move.
He turned around slowly, extremely slowly. The fabric of his robe rustled softly with each movement, a sound clearly audible in the deathly silence of the tent. His gaze finally settled on Gao Huai'en's face, slightly distorted by smugness. That gaze, still calm, was no longer a deep pool, but an abyss frozen solid with millennia of ice, chilling to the bone, unfathomable.
Gao Huaien's smug expression froze instantly, as if stung by an invisible icy needle. He instinctively avoided that gaze, but forced himself to straighten his back and glared back defiantly.
Qin Zhaoyang's lips twitched very slightly. It seemed as if he wanted to say something, or perhaps he was just silently inhaling the heavy, iron-like chill.
Just then—
"Report—!!!"
A shrill, piercing scream filled with boundless terror, like the howl of a dying beast, suddenly shattered the deathly silence inside and outside the command tent!
The tent flap was violently flung open by a hand stained with mud and dark red blood! A scout, covered in blood, tumbled in like a tattered sack, crashing heavily onto the cold, muddy ground. His leather armor was tattered, a deep, bone-revealing knife wound on his chest was still gushing blood, and his face was covered in mud and sweat. Only his eyes, wide with extreme fear, stared fixedly at Qin Zhaoyang, as if using the last ounce of his life to scream:
"General...General! Black...Black Wind Pass! Enemy...enemy attack! Ashina Tulu...all out...all out! Vanguard...vanguard has passed 'Soul-Severing Cliff'! Less than...less than thirty li from the main camp!!"
"Pfft!" After uttering the last word, the scout spat out a mouthful of scalding blood, staining the ground in front of him red. His body convulsed violently a few times, his head lolled to the side, and he fell silent. Only his wide, terrified eyes remained, staring blankly at the roof of the commander's tent.
Dead silence!
An even more terrifying silence instantly enveloped the entire command tent!
Gao Huaien's smugness and sinister expression froze completely, turning into a blank, then replaced by incredulous astonishment. His lips trembled, unable to utter a single word. Zhao Ran's empty brocade box clattered to the ground. He himself felt as if his bones had been removed, staggering back a step, his face ashen. Two guards instantly drew their swords, a flash of cold light, the blades pointing directly at the tent flap. Their eyes, sharp as lightning, were fixed on the scout's corpse and the deep night outside the open tent flap, as if an invisible army of thousands was surging forward, trampling through the wet snow!
The moment the scout cried out, Qin Zhaoyang's body tensed as if by an invisible bowstring! His eyes, as deep as ice and abyss, suddenly narrowed, and the sharp light, like thunder exploding in the night, instantly pierced the oppressive air inside the tent!
All the weighing of options, all the humiliation, all the cold laws and heavy realities were utterly crushed in the face of this blood-stained urgent report!
Black Wind Pass! Ashina Tulu! They've all come out in full force! Soul-Severing Cliff! Thirty miles away!
The cold words, carrying the scent of rust and death, struck everyone's nerves hard!
He took a sudden step forward, his robe billowing in the wind, and he darted like an arrow to the massive sand table. His broad, powerful hands slammed onto the edge of the sand table, the icy touch of the bluestone instantly coursing through his body. He grasped the small, scarlet flag representing Ashina Tulu's main force with pinpoint accuracy, as if seizing the vital spot of a venomous snake!
"Soul-Severing Cliff..." Qin Zhaoyang's voice was low and cold, carrying a metallic quality, each word like a steel ball striking a sand table. "Good! Good Ashina Tulu! Taking advantage of our warm snow and muddy roads, our supply lines are difficult... taking advantage of our..." He paused, his gaze like lightning, sweeping over the pale-faced Gao Huaien and Zhao Ran. The unfinished words were like a cold whip lashing out, "...taking advantage of this opportunity to launch a full-scale attack! He...is trying to swallow up the main force of our border army in one gulp!"
"Give the order!" He suddenly looked up, his voice rising abruptly like a thunderclap, instantly dispelling all the panic and deathly silence in the tent, carrying an undeniable aura of resolute killing intent!
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