Weishui Lament
The Wei River, a river that bears the weight of too much blood and tears, gleamed with a murky red light under the blazing afternoon sun, like a wound seeping from the earth itself. The deafening sounds of yesterday's battle had fallen silent, replaced by an air thick with the stench of rust and decaying corpses. Tens of thousands of bodies, contorted in various ways, littered the riverbanks and shallow waters, layer upon layer, clogging the flow and attracting swarms of crows and flies, their buzzing sending chills down one's spine. The river no longer flowed swiftly, but rather murmured and wept among the corpses, a true "river of blood."
Xiao Yuxuan, leaning on a broken long spear, trudged laboriously across the hellish riverbank. His leather armor was ripped open in several places by swords and blades, and his coarse hemp robe underneath was soaked in blood, indistinguishable as to whether it was his own or that of his enemies. Each heavy breath brought a dull ache to his ribs, an old wound from being struck by a blunt weapon. His gaze swept across the ground, filled with empty eye sockets, mangled limbs, and faces frozen in fear or despair. Among them were Di Rong, clad in black wolf skins and grotesque as demons, and the faces of farmers from the Central Plains, dressed in simple hemp clothing, still clutching their tools even in death…
Yesterday, when the enemy's main force was lured into the Wei River by Sun Qian's strategy of "attacking while crossing," and then scattered and thrown into disarray by the muddy floodwaters released from the breached dikes upstream, General Bai Yu personally led his elite central army like tigers descending a mountain, using a tight formation of spears and halberds in conjunction with chariot charges to complete this devastating annihilation. The cheers of victory had barely begun when they were drowned out by the scene of carnage before them.
Now, Bai Yu faced a mountain of prisoners of war. Most of them were ragged, emaciated, with numb or terrified eyes. They had been disarmed and bound together in groups of ten with rough straw ropes, like lambs to the slaughter. Among them, the pleas, cries, and calls for family members spoken in the Longxi accent were incessant, piercing the hearts of every surviving Longxi soldier like needles, and deeply penetrating Bai Yu's eyes.
"General!" A military judge, dressed in a dark robe and wearing a bronze seal symbolizing "rules" (律), a symbol of Legalism, strode up to Bai Yu with a cold and stern expression. His voice carried an unquestionable authority. "The Military Law states: 'Surrendered soldiers must not be kept!' This is national policy and a fundamental principle of military strategy! Keeping them will only waste provisions and shake morale. If they mutini or are used by the enemy, the consequences will be endless! They should all be buried alive to prevent future troubles, deter villains, and demonstrate the might of our Great Qin!" Behind him, several cold-faced law enforcement officers, holding bronze axes, stood solemnly, their eyes sweeping over the trembling surrendered soldiers as if they were piles of firewood awaiting disposal. The air was filled with the chilling aura of Legalism's "weakening the people to strengthen the state" and "using punishment to eliminate punishment."
Bai Yu rode his equally weary warhorse, the bronze dagger symbolizing his status and Legalist military achievements hanging at his waist. He remained silent, his gaze slowly sweeping across the despairing faces. He saw the white-haired elders, the underage boys, and the last, humble plea for life in their eyes. He thought of Xiao Yuxuan, whom he had forcibly conscripted, and the farmers who had lost their homes and land under the Legalist officials' cruel "Reclamation Edict." Weren't these surrendered soldiers before him another "Xiao Yuxuan"? Weren't they also pawns swept along by the torrent of chaos, powerless to control their own destiny?
“Killing surrendered soldiers is an ominous sign…” Bai Yu’s voice was low and hoarse, unusually clear on the desolate riverbank, carrying a hint of hesitation that was inconsistent with his usual decisiveness. “They are mostly commoners, not guilty of war. Forcibly conscripting them into the army, how are they any different from us in the past?” He tried to find a balance between the cold law and the faint sense of “benevolence” in his heart.
"General!" The military judge's voice suddenly rose, carrying a sharp warning, "This is womanly compassion! The law is impartial! National policy is paramount! Today's compassion may be tomorrow's disaster! Please make a decision quickly, General!" Some of the surrounding generals looked reluctant and lowered their heads in silence; others deeply agreed and echoed the military judge with fierce eyes.
Xiao Yuxuan stood not far away, clutching the coarse linen amulet to his chest, the bloodstains on it now darkened. He looked at Bai Yu's furrowed brows, at his hand gripping the hilt of his sword, his knuckles white, and sensed an unprecedented inner struggle within this general, renowned for his Legalist ruthlessness. He seemed to see his defiant father on the execution ground in Longxi, and the despair in his mother's eyes when she was forcibly conscripted. An impulse surged within him. Dragging his injured leg, he pushed through the crowd, staggered to Bai Yu's horse, knelt on one knee, his voice trembling with emotion: "General! No! They... they too are born of parents, flesh and blood! If they fight for survival, their crimes are forgivable! But to slaughter them all is no different from beasts! Heaven's justice is clear, there will be retribution!" His words, like a stone thrown into stagnant water, stirred ripples in the grim military formation. The Legalist military judge cast a sharp, dagger-like glance at him.
Bai Yu's gaze met Xiao Yuxuan's bloodshot yet unusually resolute eyes for a moment. Those eyes held pity, anger, and an almost desperate plea. He took a deep breath, and the blood-stained, foul air seemed to grow heavier. Finally, he abruptly waved his hand, his voice heavy with weariness, yet exceptionally firm: "Issue the order! Screen them! Anyone with Longxi household registration who is not a direct descendant of the enemy army is to be laid down, given three days' rations, and driven from the battlefield, forbidden from rejoining the army! The rest… be placed under strict surveillance and await further orders!" This order was the greatest "mercy" he could obtain through the cracks in the ironclad laws of Legalism, and it also meant he would bear enormous political risks.
The military judge's face was ashen. His lips moved a few times, but he ultimately refrained from uttering any further words of disobedience. He simply let out a heavy snort and turned away. The surrendered soldiers erupted in cries of relief and kowtows of gratitude.
However, Bai Yu's belated act of "benevolence" became a fatal flaw.
Just as the surrendered soldiers were being dispersed, some soldiers were busy clearing the battlefield, and others were becoming slightly disorganized due to exhaustion and laxity, upstream on the Wei River, the remnants of the Di Rong tribe, scattered by the flood, led by a valiant commander, rallied like a wounded pack of wolves and launched a desperate counterattack! They abandoned their warhorses, using the corpses and murky river water as cover, and stealthily approached like ghosts! Their target was the central banner flying high on the riverbank, symbolizing their commander-in-chief—and the white jade beneath it!
"Enemy attack—!!!"
A piercing alarm shattered the brief calm, but it was too late! Like a black, raging tide, hundreds of elite Di Rong soldiers, covered in blood and looking like madmen, leaped from the piles of corpses and shallow water, brandishing heavy spiked clubs, scimitars, and maces, howling like wild beasts, and crashed into the flank of the Qin army, which was not yet fully formed! They disregarded their own casualties, their eyes fixed only on the commander's flag and the commander who had brought them such a crushing defeat!
"Protect the general! Form ranks! Form ranks now!" the generals shouted hoarsely.
But chaos had already broken out! Some soldiers were still dealing with the surrendered troops, some were carrying away the corpses, and others, complacent due to their previous victory, were unable to quickly form an effective defensive formation. The Di Rong's desperate charge was like a red-hot knife cutting into butter, instantly tearing a gash! A bloody melee erupted around the commander's banner!
Xiao Yuxuan, not far from the commander's flag, witnessed this shocking turn of events, his eyes wide with rage! He discarded his broken halberd, drew a bronze short sword he had captured from his waist, and roared as he charged towards the flag. He saw Bai Yu's personal guards fall one after another under Di Rong's fearless onslaught, and he saw Bai Yu wielding the bronze short sword with all his might, the blade flashing like a bolt of lightning, each strike sending up a spray of blood, but the circle of guards around him was rapidly shrinking!
A Di Rong commander, nearly ten feet tall with a face painted with bizarre greasepaint, wielded a giant axe like a humanoid beast, hacking down two of his personal guards in succession before lunging at Bai Yu with a sinister grin! The giant axe whistled through the air and was about to cleave Bai Yu and his horse in two!
"General, be careful!" Xiao Yuxuan was terrified. With all his might, he hurled the bronze short sword in his hand like a javelin! The short sword turned into a flash of cold light and accurately pierced the shoulder of the commander! The commander felt the pain, and the trajectory of his giant axe veered off course, crashing heavily into the foreleg of Bai Yu's warhorse!
The warhorse let out a miserable neigh and crashed to the ground! Bai Yu was thrown away by the immense force and fell heavily into the muddy, bloody water. His helmet rolled off and his hair was disheveled.
"Protect the General!" Xiao Yuxuan rushed forward, picked up a bloodstained bronze halberd from the ground, and roared as he stood in front of Bai Yu. He used all his skills to wield the halberd with impenetrable force, desperately parrying the weapons attacking from all directions. Each clash of weapons numbed his arms, reopened old wounds, and blood seeped from the gaps in his armor. Like a stubborn rock in a raging storm, he held fast to the ground just a few feet in front of Bai Yu, building a final line of defense with his body and will. He saw Di Rong's ferocious face, saw his comrades fall beside him, and saw in the distance, among the dispersed surrendered soldiers, some lingered and looked back, their eyes filled with complex emotions.
The chaos lasted as long as it seemed, like an eternity. When the crossbowmen summoned by Sun Qian finally arrived, a dense rain of arrows covered the area around the commander's banner, turning the remaining Di Rong assassins into pincushions. Xiao Yuxuan was almost exhausted, leaning on his halberd, panting heavily, his body covered in blood, looking like a blood-soaked figure. Behind him, Bai Yu, supported by his personal guards, barely managed to stand up. Although he had several wounds, they did not appear to be in mortal danger.
However, there was no trace of relief at surviving a calamity on Bai Yu's face. He looked around; the commander's flag was askew, his personal guards were almost all dead or wounded, and the once orderly army was in complete disarray, with fear and exhaustion still etched on the soldiers' faces. In the distance, the scattered surrendered soldiers were fleeing in all directions, while the military judge's cold, piercing gaze, which hinted at "just as I expected," pierced through the chaotic crowd and was fixed on him.
A profound sense of grief and powerlessness, like the icy waters of the Wei River, instantly overwhelmed Bai Yu. He recalled the military judge's warning, the soldiers who had died unjustly because of his momentary mercy, and the endless war's devouring of lives. His Legalist beliefs, the iron-fisted order upon which he relied, collapsed completely at this moment. He had pursued military merit and titles, believing that he could use them to strengthen the army and the nation, but in the end, beneath this "strength" lay only piles of white bones, including countless innocent people like Xiao Yuxuan's father and the surrendered soldiers before him!
"Heh...heh heh..." Bai Yu let out a low, broken laugh, filled with endless desolation and self-mockery. He pushed away the guards who were supporting him and staggered forward, heading towards the Wei River bank, which still gleamed with blood. The setting sun cast a long shadow of him, and dyed the entire battlefield a blinding, desperate crimson.
He walked to the water's edge, the murky blood splashing against his boots. He slowly drew the bronze short sword from his waist, the one that had accompanied him for half his life, a symbol of Legalist military achievements and power. The sword still gleamed coldly, but it couldn't reflect the slightest spark in his eyes, only a deathly emptiness.
"General!" A strong sense of unease welled up in Xiao Yuxuan's heart, and he struggled to step forward.
Bai Yu didn't turn around. He gazed at the blood-red Wei River, at the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, his voice low and sigh-like, yet clearly reaching everyone's ears: "This sword... has been with me through half a lifetime of conquest, drinking countless drops of blood... What is it for? To strengthen the army? To enrich the country? To bring peace to the people?" He suddenly raised the short sword, its sharp blade gleaming with a poignant light in the setting sun, "Law? Punishment? Merit? Crime?" The last few words were a roar, filled with an ultimate questioning of his own beliefs, of this war, and even of the entire world!
Before he finished speaking, to everyone's utter astonishment, Bai Yu placed the bronze short sword that had once represented his supreme glory and power against his own neck without hesitation or resoluteness!
"No—!!!" Xiao Yuxuan's roar was heart-wrenching.
A flash of cold light!
A torrent of scalding blood, like a burst dam, gushed forth, staining Bai Yu's tattered black battle robe crimson, and staining the scorched earth and murky river beneath his feet. His imposing body swayed, like a mountain collapsing, before he collapsed to his knees, finally falling forward onto the banks of the Wei River. Blood quickly seeped beneath him, merging with the entire river of blood. The bronze dagger, stained with its master's last drop of blood, slipped from his limp hand, landing with a clang on the blood-soaked bank, its hilt trembling.
The setting sun was like blood, and heaven and earth grieved together. The entire Weishui battlefield was plunged into a deathly silence, with only the river weeping, as if playing a mournful elegy for the general who had once been a formidable force on the frontier but ultimately died from the collapse of his inner beliefs and the heavy burden of war.
Xiao Yuxuan stood frozen in place, his blood seemingly frozen. He stared at the short sword embedded in the blood-soaked mud, at Bai Yu's receding figure in the pool of blood, overwhelmed by immense grief and a deeper sense of bewilderment. Revenge? For whom? Against whom? The cruel officials of Longxi? The wolf lord of Di Rong? Or the endless, all-consuming war itself? General Bai's death was like a heavy hammer, shattering the last vestige of his vague illusion of "stopping war with war."
As dusk settled, Xiao Yuxuan, like a walking corpse, slowly moved to Bai Yu's body. He took off his tattered, blood-soaked outer robe and gently covered the general's body. Then, kneeling in the blood and mud, he grasped the hilt of the bronze short sword that was stuck diagonally in the ground with trembling, wounded hands.
The hilt was cold, still warm from its owner's body and stained with thick blood. He pulled it out slowly with force. The tip of the sword kicked up a clump of dark red blood. He stared at the blade, its surface reflecting the last rays of the setting sun and his own blood-stained, tear-streaked face.
Instead of wiping the blood off his sword, he walked to a slightly higher point on the riverbank where Bai Yu's head was pointing, where there was a small patch of mud soaked with blood and trampled by countless military boots. With the last of his strength, he used his blood-stained short sword to dig a shallow pit in the ground.
The pit was shallow, barely enough to fit the hilt of the sword. He carefully planted the short sword, hilt down and tip up, as if planting a sapling, deep into the land soaked with the blood of the general and the blood and tears of countless souls lost in the Wei River! Most of the sword was submerged, with only the blood-stained tip and a small section of the hilt sticking out, like a silent and sorrowful tombstone.
Having done all this, Xiao Yuxuan was utterly exhausted. He slumped onto the cold, blood-soaked ground, leaning against the symbolically "fallen" sword, facing the still-bloodied Wei River. He pulled out the blood-stained, coarse hemp talisman from his robes and clutched it tightly in his palm. His gaze swept across the battlefield littered with corpses, landing on the distant, dark horizon.
The flames of revenge were not extinguished; instead, nourished by Bai Yu's blood, they burned even more intensely, tinged with a chilling question. He wanted more than just kill; he wanted to get to the bottom of things! What was the root of this cannibalistic world, this endless war? Was it the harsh laws of Legalism? Was it the greed and ambition of the feudal lords? Or was it the insatiable desire for plunder deep within people's hearts?
The night wind howled, sweeping across the fields of corpses, stirring the lone bronze dagger embedded in the blood-soaked mud, emitting a faint, mournful hum. Xiao Yuxuan's vow, low and hoarse, drifted away on the wind amidst the lament of the Wei River:
"This sword is my witness, this blood is my oath... I would rather die than give up this weapon."
Night completely swallowed the earth, only the Wei River, still tinged with its lingering crimson, flowed mournfully into the distance, carrying the day's blood and sorrow to an unknown abyss. And that small, blood-stained sword tip, under the starlight, gleamed with a faint yet stubborn cold light, like a seed buried deep in the soil of hatred and doubt, awaiting its day to sprout.
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