Chapter 50
The tent was filled with the pungent smell of sawdust mixed with blood.
The cracks along the edge of the sand table were jagged, and yellow sand mixed with a few drops of dark red blood spread an ominous wet stain on the table.
Sheng Chi's gaze was fixed on the sheepskin map that Xiao Qiyun had unfolded. The vermilion mark representing Black Stone Gorge was like a red-hot iron, burning his eyes.
He slowly withdrew his hand, which had smashed the sand table, his knuckles a bloody mess, blood dripping from his fingertips and leaving deeper dark spots on the rough sheepskin.
He seemed oblivious to the pain, pressing his intact hand firmly against the remaining edge of the sand table, his knuckles turning bluish-white from the force.
“The plan…” he began again, his voice hoarse as if sand were rubbing against sheet metal, each word seemingly forced out from the depths of his chest, “I need to discuss it in detail with His Highness…”
He suddenly raised his head, but instead of looking at Xiao Qiyun, he turned his gaze to Sheng Xuan, who was standing stiffly to the side.
That look in his eyes was indescribably complex—it contained lingering embers of rage, unfathomable pain, and forcibly suppressed worry, all of which ultimately coalesced into a heavy, unquestionable command:
"you,"
He stared at the clear finger marks on Sheng Xuan's swollen cheek and the dried blood at the corner of his mouth. His Adam's apple bobbed violently, and his voice suddenly rose, carrying an undeniable force.
"Go back! Clean yourself up! And get the medic to check your face!" He paused, his tone softening slightly, but still as cold and hard as iron. "Later... after I've discussed it with His Highness, I'll summon you. Then... come back!"
He emphasized the last two words, as if two stones had slammed onto the ground. The meaning couldn't be clearer—now, immediately, disappear from my sight!
Sheng Xuan was startled by the surging, almost ferocious emotions in his brother's eyes.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but when his gaze fell on Sheng Chi's bloodied and mangled hand and the glaring bloodstains on the sand table, he bit his lower lip and swallowed his words.
His face burned with pain, and his heart felt as if it were stuffed with wet cotton, but his brother's command and unquestionable gaze left him no room to argue.
He wiped his mouth hard, his eyes stubbornly sweeping over Sheng Chi and Xiao Qiyun, before finally clasping his hands in a heavy fist salute, the movement so forceful it stirred up a gust of wind.
"Yes!" His voice was muffled, filled with resentment. As he turned, his black cloak swung in a sharp arc, and he strode toward the tent flap.
The moment the curtain was lifted, blinding sunlight flooded in, illuminating his blood-stained cheek, and then his figure disappeared into the white, dusty light.
The curtains fell, once again separating the inside from the outside.
A deeper, deathly silence instantly descended upon the tent. The tense atmosphere that had been maintained while Sheng Xuan was present was now reduced to two deep-seated thoughts and a scene of utter chaos.
Sheng Chi remained pressed against the edge of the sand table, his tall frame swaying almost imperceptibly. He slowly closed his eyes, took a deep breath, the breath trembling violently as if he had used all his strength to suppress it. When he opened his eyes again, the turmoil in them had been forcibly suppressed, leaving only a bottomless, blood-tinged coldness.
He turned to Xiao Qiyun, his injured hand unconsciously twitching, blood dripping from his fingertips and pooling into a small dark red puddle at his feet.
“Your Highness,” his voice was still hoarse, but he tried to remain calm, “please elaborate.”
Xiao Qiyun's gaze swept over Sheng Chi's bleeding hand, then returned to his forced composure on his face, a faint, elusive emotion flashing deep in his eyes.
He didn't say much, only nodded slightly, his fingertip pointing again at the fatal pass on the sheepskin map, his voice calm and even, as if the thrilling conflict had never happened:
"General, please look. This pass is only three zhang wide, with cliffs on both sides over a hundred chi high. It is an excellent place to set up an ambush..."
Outside the tent, the scorching sun beat down on the sand and gravel, and the rising heat distorted the view.
Sheng Xuan hadn't gone far. He leaned against a hitching post not far away, the rough wooden post digging into his back. He raised his fingertips and fiercely rubbed the wound on the corner of his mouth. The stinging pain made him gasp, but his eyes were fixed on the tightly closed curtain of the commander's tent, as if trying to see through the thick canvas and see the conspiracy inside that would determine his fate.
Sheng Xuan's chest heaved violently, his eyes churning with resentment, anger, and a forcibly suppressed fear of his unknown fate.
The sun slanted westward from the top of the flagpole at the gate, casting long shadows on the gravelly ground.
The curtains of the commander's tent remained tightly closed, swallowing up all sounds and light within.
Sheng Xuan leaned against the hitching post, his back aching from the rough wooden stake, but his gaze seemed welded to the thick canvas.
At first, he could still faintly hear the hushed arguments coming from inside the tent, Sheng Chi's hoarse questioning and Xiao Qiyun's calm to the point of being cold.
Later, the sounds gradually faded, leaving only the rustling of charcoal pencils across the parchment or the soft thud of chess pieces falling onto the makeshift chessboard.
Every tiny sound tugged at Sheng Xuan's nerves; he clenched his fists so tightly that his nails almost dug into his palms.
Sweat soaked through his undershirt, clinging to his skin, and was then dried by the scorching midday sun, leaving behind a layer of sticky salt stains.
The handprint on my cheek stung, and the wound at the corner of my mouth had scabbed over, causing sharp pain with every movement.
He paced anxiously in place like a trapped beast, his black cloak sweeping up the dust on the ground, which was then blown away by the wind.
Time ticked by, but there was still no movement from inside the tent. No guards came out to summon him, and no brother lifted the curtain to peek at him. The tightly closed tent door was like a cold chasm, isolating him from the outside world.
An indescribable sense of frustration and grievance welled up in his heart, mixed with anxiety about the unknown plan, almost bursting him out.
"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, kicking the hitching post hard, making the wooden post vibrate and startling the warhorse beside him, causing it to neigh uneasily.
He scratched his head in frustration, looking at the sun which was past its zenith and the soldiers who had been training on the drill ground had all changed their posts, but the tent curtain remained motionless.
A tremendous sense of powerlessness and anger at being rejected overwhelmed him.
He turned abruptly, no longer looking at the suffocating tent, and strode towards his own tent, his back view carrying an almost self-destructive resolve.
Back in my relatively simple tent, the stuffy heat hit me.
Sheng Xuan ripped off his sweat- and dust-covered cloak and threw it heavily onto the couch. He walked to the basin, scooped up a ladle of cold water, and poured it over his head.
The icy water made him shiver, but it couldn't extinguish the fire burning in his heart.
He slumped down on the edge of the bed, his wet hair plastered to his forehead, water droplets dripping down his jawline and splashing onto the dry mud, spreading a small dark patch. The tent was quiet, save for his heavy breathing and the faint sound of drill chants in the distance.
In the silence, scenes from the daytime uncontrollably churned in my mind.
Why should I?! This thought gnawed at him like a venomous snake.
When his elder brother slapped him, he clearly saw what was in his eyes—fear, anger, and even more so… the feeling that his brother was unfit to bear the General's sword! The remaining finger mark on his cheek burned fiercely, and the humiliation tightened around his heart like vines, suffocating him. In his eyes, he was nothing more than a useless piece of trash, only fit to practice fancy moves on the training ground, unable to even touch the sand table?!
Shengxuan slammed his fist against the hard edge of the tatami mat, making a dull thud.
But beneath this stillness, a subtle, chilling shiver, like a venomous snake, crept up his spine. He was only seventeen.
The dim light inside the tent seemed to suddenly turn cold, engulfing Sheng Xuan's thin figure. The excruciating pain of burning oil... the gnawing and gnawing at her bones by the Gu worms... really... aren't you afraid? With an uncontrollable spasm in her stomach, cold sweat instantly soaked through her inner garment, which had just been doused with cold water, bringing a sticky chill.
He hadn't yet tasted enough of the newly brewed plum wine, hadn't seen enough of the snow-covered mountains at the border, and... he hadn't even received an answer from Su Zhelan...
Ze Lan...
The name was like a cold needle, suddenly piercing through the boiling rage, bringing a suffocating chill. The Holy Son?
Before my eyes flashed an uncontrollable image of the pale purple, twisted scar on the back of Su Zhelan's neck amidst the misty steam of Shuyu Courtyard; an image of him curled up in the brocade quilt in the middle of the night, trembling and sobbing uncontrollably due to the onset of the Gu poison... My heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible, cold hand, almost to the point of bleeding.
Those bastards! How dare they?! Sheng Xuan's teeth were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white from the force, and he wished he could draw his knife right now and rush into the enemy's lair to crush those worms in the gutter into dust!
He was right beside Su Zhelan, day after day, yet he was like a blind man! Like a fool! His fingernails dug deep into his palms, crescent-shaped blood seeping out, but he felt no pain whatsoever, only an overwhelming, cold guilt that overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.
His gaze fell on the shimmering light and shadow on the tent canvas, as if penetrating the barrier to see the hand inside the main tent that had smashed the sand table and was now a bloody mess, and to the deep despair and fear hidden in his brother's eyes that was almost crushing him.
Brother is afraid...? Afraid that if he gives up his life, the ancestral line will be broken by blood? As a bitter, almost ferocious smile appeared on his lips, Sheng Xuan's chest heaved violently, a surge of hot emotion rushed to his eyes, only to be forcefully pushed back.
"It's my turn, brother!" A silent roar echoed in my heart, filled with a heart-wrenching resolve.
His fingertips unconsciously touched his chest, and through the thin fabric, he felt the tightly sewn-in heart-protecting talisman inside the lining. The strange scent of cinnabar mixed with rooster blood seemed to waft out, carrying a faint but real warmth.
If it really comes to that... it's better to burn it all to the ground than to let Su Zhelan's blood feed those monsters even a drop!
Outside the tent, steady footsteps approached from afar and stopped at the doorway.
He took a deep breath, his chest heaving, and carefully tucked the small amulet into his innermost pocket, right next to his heart.
When he looked up again, all the bewilderment and vulnerability of a teenager had faded from his face. Although a trace of the naivety and fear of a seventeen-year-old remained deep in his eyes, what remained more was a sharp, isolated edge forged in fire.
He stood up, grabbed the dusty and sweat-stained cloak from the couch, shook it vigorously, and draped it over his shoulders with a swift and decisive motion.
"Second Young Master, the General requests your presence," came the voice of a guard outside the tent.
Sheng Xuan did not respond, but simply raised his hand and fiercely wiped the dried scabs on the corner of his mouth with his fingertips. The stinging pain made his eyes even sharper.
He flung open the tent flap, his figure disappearing into the scattered lights of the camp, his steps firm and unwavering.
The candlelight suddenly leaped, distorting the intense shadow cast on the canvas tent wall.
With his back to Sheng Xuan, he ran his fingertips along the edge of the sand table, and sawdust fell onto the mud model representing the Black Wind Pass.
"The decoy camp is set up at Eagle's Beak Cliff." Sheng Chi's voice was like sandpaper rubbing against pig iron, his knuckles tapping heavily on a steep mark on the sand table. "You take three hundred elite soldiers, disguised as a supply convoy. The cult's spies have been watching this road for a long time. Once they see your identity, they will surely come out in full force."
Sheng Xuan's silver armor gleamed with a cold, hard luster in the dim light, and his Adam's apple bobbed: "Three hundred? Eagle Beak Cliff is a death trap!"
“We want them dead.” Sheng Chi turned around abruptly, his eyes filled with icy coldness. “There’s oil buried on the cliff top. Once they surround you, the signal fire will be lit—” He slashed down sharply, the wind extinguishing the nearest candle. “Rolling rocks from the cliff top, ambushes at the valley entrance. None of them will escape. Capture them alive if you can.”
The shadows engulfed half of Sheng Chi's face. He took a step forward, his boot crushing the scattered terracotta warrior fragments along the edge of the sand table: "If they discover the ambush, if the beacon fires fail to be lit..."
He paused, the air solidifying into a block of iron pressing down on Sheng Xuan's chest, "You and the three hundred people are the living altar of the Gu worms."
"No need to say anything more." Sheng Xuan's voice was unusually calm, which made the candlelight on the table flicker.
He brushed Sheng Chi's hand aside, grabbed the vermilion pen himself, and plunged the tip into the mark of Eagle's Beak Cliff on the sand table. Crimson sand splattered onto his silver armor and wrist guards. "Three hundred elite soldiers, ten supply wagons, entering the valley at three-quarters of the hour of Mao—is that right?"
"You know the consequences of being bait." Sheng Chi's voice lost its strength for the first time, like a taut bowstring suddenly slackening. "Once the Gu worm enters the body, even a god can't save you..."
"Second Young Master." Xiao Qiyun's voice cut in at that moment. He stood in the shadow of the tent curtain, the corner of his moon-white robe fluttering slightly in the wind, like a curtain separating life and death. "The grain register needs my personal approval. I'll go and check it first."
Only the two brothers remained inside the tent, the candlelight crackling and popping.
Sheng Chi suddenly raised his hand, his five fingers digging deep into the cinnabar pile representing Eagle's Beak Cliff in the sand table. Red sand slipped through his fingers like blood that could not be held in his hands.
"I've been a pathetic general." Sheng Chi's voice was muffled in his chest, making the teacup on the table vibrate. He stared at the blood-soaked Black Wind Pass swamp on the sand table, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty: "He actually made his own brother jump into a pile of Gu worms..."
"Useless..." Sheng Chi's sigh turned into a soft laugh, causing the teacup on the table to ripple slightly.
He suddenly opened his arms, and the clanging of the armor sounded like two old bronze locks interlocking.
Sheng Xuan was pulled into an embrace that smelled of leather and sweat, and a broad, thick hand landed on the back of his head—the palm was rough with grit, but the movement of ruffling his hair was as gentle as brushing away willow catkins.
"You little brat, you've got guts..." Sheng Chi's chin rested against Sheng Xuan's shoulder armor, his muffled voice echoing through the armor.
“Stubborn since childhood…” The hand that was rubbing the top of the head slid to the corner of the mouth, the thumb paused next to the newly formed scab, and finally just gently pinched the boy’s tense shoulder line.
Sheng Xuan's eyelashes brushed against the cool scales of Sheng Chi's shoulder armor. He raised his hand, which had been hanging by his side, hesitated for a moment, and finally wrapped it around his brother's broad back. His palm touched the warm tremor beneath the armor.
Sheng Chi took a half step back, kicking aside the pesky terracotta figurine fragments with the tip of his boot. His eyes, reflecting the warm glow of candlelight, said, "Let's go." He flicked Sheng Xuan's forehead lightly with his knuckles.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
