Chapter 358 Breakthrough

Chapter 358: Breaking Out

Morning light filtered through the tent curtains, casting dappled patches of light across Cheng Ge's pale face.

His eyelids trembled for a long moment before finally struggling open, and Cui Ji's figure swam in and out of focus.

"Awake?" Cui Ji immediately leaned in, his palm covering Cheng Ge's sweat-dampened forehead, fingertips gently brushing aside the stray hairs stuck to his temples.

Cheng Ge opened his mouth, but his throat was too dry to make a sound.

He felt as if every bone in his body had been taken apart and put back together, the strength to lift even a finger gone from his heavy limbs.

Cui Ji half-supported him upright, letting Cheng Ge's limp body lean against his chest.

He picked up the yam porridge warming over the charcoal brazier, scooped up a spoonful, carefully blew on it to cool it, and then brought it to his lips.

Cheng Ge swallowed mechanically, a faint sting in his swollen throat as the porridge went down, and he couldn't help but furrow his brows.

"What do you want for lunch?" Cui Ji set down the empty bowl, his fingertips unconsciously stroking Cheng Ge's slightly warm earlobe.

Cheng Ge was about to shake his head when a searing pain suddenly ripped through his chest—

As if a red-hot iron poker had been jammed into his chest, or as if thousands of ice needles were racing through his veins.

The color drained from his face instantly, his brows knitted tightly, and his teeth ground audibly.

His body convulsed uncontrollably, his nails digging deep into Cui Ji's arm.

"Cui..." He tried desperately to call out, but only broken, breathy sounds escaped through his clenched teeth.

Cold sweat instantly soaked through his outer robes, leaving dark damp patches on the thin underclothes.

Cui Ji immediately knew something was wrong, catching his head as it lolled back: "Muyu."

"It hurts so much..." Cheng Ge forced this word from the depths of his throat, his whole body curling up like a shrimp.

He clutched Cui Ji's lapels, his knuckles white from the strain.

"Medic!" Cui Ji shouted toward the tent entrance, a note of panic in his voice that had never been there before.

He tightly embraced the violently trembling body in his arms, feeling Cheng Ge's heart pounding so hard it seemed ready to burst through his ribs. "Where does it hurt? Tell me!"

Cheng Ge could no longer form full sentences, only whimpering like a wounded animal.

"Cui Ji." He looked up, his neck arched in a fragile curve, veins throbbing beneath his pale skin.

As the last thread of consciousness slipped away, he caught a blurry glimpse of Cui Ji's bloodshot eyes, which reflected his own twisted face.

The old military physician stumbled in carrying his medicine box, his withered fingers trembling as he took Cheng Ge's pulse.

The old physician's gnarled fingers pressed again and again on Cheng Ge's wrist, his brow furrowing ever deeper.

He peeled back Cheng Ge's eyelid, checked his tongue, and finally shook his head in defeat: "This pulse is erratic—now fast, now slow, now deep, now shallow. The symptoms came on so violently that I... I truly can't figure out the cause."

Cui Ji seized the old physician by the collar: "He was perfectly fine before—how could this happen all of a sudden?"

"General, please stay calm." The old physician said tremblingly, "These symptoms suggest the poison has reached his heart and lungs.

All I can do is use gold needles to ease the pain for now and up the dose of the toxin-suppressing brew, but I'm afraid..."

Before he finished speaking, Cheng Ge suddenly convulsed violently, spitting a mouthful of blood onto Cui Ji's chest.

The blood spread quickly across his lapels, dark, almost black.

Cui Ji hastily caught his slumping body, then roared: "Needles! Now!"

Cheng Ge was jolted awake by the blood choking him, his vision still veiled in red.

The pain in his chest was like being trampled by iron hooves, and the agony made his whole body curl up violently.

"Ah... ah..." He kicked his legs uncontrollably, clawing at the air as if trying to grab hold of something to fend off the bone-deep agony.

Cui Ji's heart dropped. His arms closed around him like iron bands, pulling him fully into his embrace.

Cheng Ge struggled violently in his arms, hands flailing wildly, nails raking down Cui Ji's neck, leaving bright red scratches behind.

But Cui Ji seemed to feel no pain, only holding him tighter, his jaw pressed to Cheng Ge's sweat-soaked forehead, his voice a steady murmur in his ear: "It's okay, don't be scared... I'm right here..."

One hand pressed firmly against Cheng Ge's trembling back, the other gently patted the back of his head.

He quickly untied Cheng Ge's nightclothes, drenched in cold sweat, and pulled them down to his waist.

The old physician crouched, pinching a silver needle between his fingers as he leaned in.

Cheng Ge's pale, thin back was rigid with pain, his shoulder blades jutting out like butterfly wings about to break.

Just as he focused on locating the acupoint and twisted the fine needle, about to pierce—a faint red mark seemed to flash across the middle of Cheng Ge's spine.

The physician's hand jerked to a halt. He blinked his rheumy old eyes and looked again—the skin was smooth as ever, showing nothing but the fine sheen of cold sweat from the pain.

"What are you waiting for?!" Cui Ji urged, anxiety pressing in his voice.

The physician pulled himself together, not daring to hesitate, and drove the silver needle into the acupoint with precision.

Cheng Ge's body jerked violently, and he let out a muffled whimper.

"Hang in there, it'll be over soon." Cui Ji murmured soothingly, his arms steadily supporting his limp body.

One needle, then another. Fine silver needles soon dotted Cheng Ge's thin back.

As the needles multiplied, his violent struggles finally began to ease.

All that remained were uncontrollable fine tremors and ragged, uneven breaths.

He was soaked through, as if dragged out of water, slumped weakly against Cui Ji's chest, too spent to even lift his eyelids.

After what felt like an eternity, the agony finally ebbed like a tide, leaving a lingering dull ache and bone-deep exhaustion.

Cheng Ge's consciousness drifted in a haze, aware only of a large, warm hand gently stroking his hair.

Cui Ji's voice came from close by, soft and coaxing.

"It doesn't hurt now..." Cui Ji's voice was close, "I'm here."

Cheng Ge's unfocused gaze drifted over the bloody scratches on Cui Ji's neck—the ones he'd left—and he wanted to speak, but then he sank into darkness.

When Cheng Ge woke again, candles were already burning inside the tent.

The orange glow flickered in the dusk, stretching the slender figure standing by the bed into a long shadow.

Lü Rou was facing away from him, wringing out a cloth in a bronze basin, the soft trickle of water filling the silence.

His eyes moved slightly, and the subtle movement immediately caught her attention.

She turned around, obvious surprise on her face as she hurried closer.

The warm, damp cloth gently wiped across his forehead and brows, wiping away the sticky cold sweat.

Cheng Ge obediently closed his eyes, feeling her meticulous wiping.

After a moment, he finally spoke in a hoarse voice, dry as sandpaper: "Where is Cui Ji?"

Lü Rou placed the cloth back into the basin, reached out to adjust the slightly tilted soft pillow beneath his head, making him more comfortable, and said in a gentle tone: "The general received an urgent dispatch from the front and left not long ago.

Before he left, he watched over you for a long time and told me to take good care of you."

She paused, carefully studying his expression, and asked cautiously: "How are you feeling now, young master? Any discomfort?"

Cheng Ge shook his head, his eyes following her.

He watched her turn to the table, pour a cup of warm water, and carefully prop him up, bringing the cup to his lips.

The warm water soothed his cracked lips and burning throat. He took small sips, but his gaze lingered on Lü Rou's furrowed brow and worried eyes.

The tent fell quiet, broken only by the soft sounds of his drinking and the occasional crackle of the candle.

Lü Rou settled him back down and went to tidy up the scattered medicine bottles.

Watching her busy figure, Cheng Ge remained silent for a long while, then spoke up out of nowhere.

"Sister Lü Rou, I still have some things stored at the manor in the capital."

He paused, meeting Lü Rou's abruptly turned gaze full of shock, and continued: "If one day... I'm gone, you and Fu Niang should split them, get out of here and live a good life.

And... that little one—see if you can find him a good, reliable family to take him in."

Before he could finish, the clean cloth Lü Rou had been holding to wipe his hands dropped onto the edge of the bed with a soft thud.

She dropped to her knees beside the bed, her back ramrod straight, all the color draining from her usually gentle face.

Her eyes churned with emotion—first disbelief, then a surge of immense grief, hurt, and outrage.

"Young master!" Her voice trembled, sharp and wounded, her eyes instantly reddening.

"Those words... you're stabbing me right in the heart!"

She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes but stubbornly refusing to spill.

"You saved my life, young master. If anything happens to you...

The road to the Yellow Springs is lonely—you gave me my life, so I'll go with you!

Better than staying in this world listening to you say such heartless things!"

Cheng Ge looked at Lü Rou kneeling before the bed, her shoulders trembling slightly, her resolute words still echoing in the tent.

He was silent for a moment, a faint trace of helplessness crossing his pale features, his cracked lips pressing together.

His voice remained hoarse, but carried a hint of forced lightness, almost teasing:

"You can't do that..." He took a light breath before continuing: "If word of this gets out, won't people say I'm cold and ungrateful, forcing the people around me to die with me at the end? What would be left of my reputation?"

"Young master!" Lü Rou jerked her head up, tears finally spilling over, but she didn't bother wiping them away, her tone urgent as she cut him off.

"Don't talk like that! The general has already sent more men to find Divine Doctor Bai—they'll find him! You can definitely be cured!"

Cheng Ge looked at the stubborn conviction in her reddened eyes and sighed inwardly, but didn't argue further.

He no longer held any hope. As for divine doctors and the like, even if they found one, they probably couldn't cure him.

Perhaps because the episode during the day had drained his vitality, the second half of the night was unusually calm, with no relapse.

Cheng Ge drifted into a hazy sleep and woke again to silence, the tent lit by a single lamp, casting the shadow of Cui Ji, who had returned at some point and was seated by the bed.

Seeing him awake, Cui Ji reached out naturally to pull the slipping brocade quilt up, covering his thin shoulders, his brow slightly furrowed: "Why are you awake? Are you uncomfortable?" His fingertips instinctively reached toward his forehead to check his temperature.

Cheng Ge turned his head slightly to avoid his hand, and by the lamplight saw the deep exhaustion etched between Cui Ji's brows, and his armor still on, covered in dust from the road. "I slept too much during the day, not sleepy."

His voice was still weak, but clearer now, his gaze falling on Cui Ji's dust-stained hem: "What about you? Have you eaten yet?"

Before Cui Ji could answer, he turned sideways and fumbled through a carved wooden box on the small table by the head of the bed, pulling out a few pastries wrapped in oil paper, and held them out, looking at him quietly: "Saved these for you."

Cui Ji was momentarily stunned, the weariness in his eyes seeming to lift slightly at the small gesture.

He took the box, but didn't eat first—instead, he carefully picked out one piece and held it to Cheng Ge's lips.

Cheng Ge took a small bite from his hand, chewing slowly.

The tent was filled with a brief calm before the storm.

He swallowed the pastry, looked up directly at Cui Ji, and asked: "Is there new trouble at the border?"

Cui Ji's hand holding the pastry paused almost imperceptibly.

He set down the pastry, picked up the water skin and handed it to Cheng Ge, watching him take a sip before speaking in a low, hushed voice.

"The Princess Yongjia, sent for the peace marriage—her carriage was attacked within Yu Prefecture... she has died."

Cheng Ge's hand, about to return the water skin, froze mid-motion, nearly dropping it.

He jerked his head up, staring at Cui Ji, his heart pounding violently, his face paling several shades.

"This is... tearing off all pretense?!"

Though the court and the Northern Di had been at odds, so blatantly ambushing a peace delegation was tantamount to ripping away the last shred of decorum!

He instinctively grabbed Cui Ji's wrist where it rested on the bed, his fingertips icy: "Have the Northern Di already crossed over? Any movement from the Western Rong or the Southern Kingdom?"

Cui Ji turned his hand over to grasp his cold fingers: "The Northern Di vanguard has already approached the Teng River.

The Western Rong has massed troops outside Longxi Pass, and the Southern Kingdom seems poised to move north."

A chill shot straight from Cheng Ge's feet to the top of his head, his breath catching.

All three nations striking at once! They were being surrounded!

He pressed urgently: "What about Nanling? What's the stance of the Nanling Emperor?"

"Nanling..." Cui Ji's gaze darkened, like an unfathomable deep pool, "As of now, no clear action has been reported to the court."

Though nothing was said outright, with movement stirring on every side, Nanling's silence itself was already a statement.

Cheng Ge's heart plummeted, his whole body going cold.

Great Zhou was now truly beset from all sides, surrounded by wolves on every flank.

The intent was clear—this was a death trap planned long ago, designed to tear Great Zhou apart and carve it up in a single stroke.

When Cheng Ge asked that question, his voice carried a tension he hadn't noticed.

His gaze burned into Cui Ji, as if searching the man's face for any glimmer of a way out.

Cui Ji's grip on his fingers grew even tighter, his voice low and steady.

"The court has decided—His Majesty has issued an edict to dispatch an additional two hundred thousand reinforcements, to march shortly."

"The Ministry of War has determined that half of them... may need to be temporarily conscripted from the three northern prefectures."

"Temporary conscription..." Cheng Ge murmured the words again, and the dull ache in his chest, which had just begun to ease, stirred faintly once more.

He knew exactly what those four words meant.

Against the combined might of three nations' forces, two hundred thousand reinforcements sounded vast, but spread across all fronts, it was merely a drop in the bucket.

And temporary conscription...

The three northern prefectures had long been ravaged by years of war, their people impoverished and taxes crushing. Now, to conscript more able-bodied men...

"Years of war have already pushed the people to their breaking point," Cheng Ge said, his voice dry. "To levy more now... I fear the people will turn against us before we can repel the enemy without."

Internal strife and external threats—that was the fatal weakness.

With the flames of war raging, if they lost the people's foundation as well, this battered ship of state might truly capsize in the raging waves.

He lifted his eyes, gazing deeply into Cui Ji's somber eyes.

The tent's lamplight cast Cui Ji's sharply defined profile in half-light and shadow.

His furrowed brow and the faint dark circles beneath his eyes all spoke to the immense pressure weighing on his shoulders.

Now, this tottering realm, the lives of hundreds of millions—almost the entire burden rested on this man's shoulders.

Cui Ji, seeing the worry in his eyes, felt his heart ache. His thumb gently stroked across Cheng Ge's cold hand, and he said softly, "Don't worry so much. Nothing will go wrong."

Cheng Ge tugged at the corners of his mouth, but the smile faded before reaching his eyes, leaving only a bitter trace.

If only his body were stronger—he wouldn't need to lead troops, but at least he could take some of the burden off Cui Ji.

The tent fell silent, leaving only the sound of their breathing mingling.

After a long moment, Cheng Ge shifted inward, making room on the outside, and said quietly, "Come up here. Get some rest."

Cui Ji didn't decline. He shed his armor and lay down beside him, still fully clothed.

The two lay side by side, gazing at the vague shadows cast on the tent ceiling by the flickering candlelight, silent for a while.

Beneath the blanket, Cheng Ge's hand reached over and tightly gripped Cui Ji's, his fingers still lacking warmth.

"Han Zhen," Cheng Ge said, staring at the ceiling, his voice cutting through the silence with unusual clarity, "what do you plan to do about him?"

Cui Ji's grip on his hand tightened slightly, his tone steady: "I've found a pretext to transfer him out of the vanguard. Once this battle is over, I'll conduct a full review."

Cheng Ge nodded. Han Zhen was a veteran general with deep roots, a man personally promoted by the late prince.

Without solid evidence pointing to treason or divided loyalties, acting rashly would only demoralize the troops.

"Better to be cautious," he murmured, and said no more.

Their hands remained clasped beneath the blanket. After days of relentless travel and strain, Cui Ji's breathing soon grew long and even—he had, unusually, fallen quickly into deep sleep.

Cheng Ge turned his head, gazing at Cui Ji's brow, still furrowed, in the dim light.

At the fourth watch, without warning, urgent drumbeats like pelting rain erupted outside the tent.

Each beat shattered the camp's stillness and jolted Cheng Ge's heart, snapping him awake.

He immediately turned to look beside him—the bed was empty. Cui Ji had already risen.

He stood with his back to Cheng Ge, a personal attendant swiftly fastening the last straps of his armor.

The dim lamplight outlined his tall, straight silhouette and the hard contours of his armor, the air thick with the tension before a storm.

Cheng Ge's heart tightened. Without thinking, he threw off the blanket to get up, his bare feet just hitting the cold ground.

The moment he moved, Cui Ji, as if sensing something, spun around.

Seeing Cheng Ge standing barefoot, his thin undergarment stirred by his sudden movement, he immediately furrowed his brow, strode back to the bed in a few long steps, and grabbed the outer robe from the edge.

Without a word, he wrapped it around Cheng Ge. "The wind outside is strong. If you feel unwell, call the army doctor right away."

Cheng Ge, looking at the red veins in his eyes and the taut line of his jaw, found his words stuck in his throat.

In the end, he just nodded and answered hoarsely, "Okay."

Cui Ji grabbed his sword from the weapon rack and strode out through the tent flap in long strides.

Cheng Ge stood frozen in place, listening to the hurried footsteps until they were swallowed up entirely by the war drums and the faint sounds of troops mobilizing.

The news that Great Zhou was besieged by three nations spread like a contagion, racing to the three northern prefectures bordering the frontier.

Panic raged like a wildfire through towns and villages alike.

Yunzhou, closest to the border, was the first to bear the brunt.

On the main roads, the merchant caravans that once passed in steady streams were gone, replaced by crowds of families fleeing south in a desperate rush.

Carts, oxcarts, and wheelbarrows jammed together in chaos, luggage and belongings scattered across the ground with no one bothering to pick them up.

Children's cries, adults' shouts and urgings, and the uneasy neighing of livestock rose into a chaotic din.

Through the dust, every face was etched with terror and dread of the unknown road ahead.

Within the city walls, the mood was even more unsettled.

The once-bustling streets now saw most shops shuttered and barred.

Only grain stores and medicine shops still had long lines out front, their prices already several times their usual rates.

Some still clutched copper coins and silver, craning their necks, eyes full of anxiety.

In teahouses and taverns, hushed murmurs never stopped.

"Did you hear? The Beidi people have already crossed the Teng River! The Western Rong barbarians are also attacking the passes! How the hell are we supposed to hold them off?"

"Hold them off? With what? Half the court's 200,000 reinforcements are coming from our own people! My kid just turned sixteen..."

"Staying in the city is waiting to die! The prefectural government has issued strict orders—the city gates only let people in, not out. Are they trying to trap us all here to die?"

"I heard... I heard the higher-ups are going to drag all the able-bodied men into the army, to fill the front lines! Leaving the old, the weak, the women and children..."

This rumor, coming out of nowhere, was like a spark hitting boiling oil, instantly setting off even bigger panic.

The crowd at the city gates kept growing. People shoved, cried, and clashed with the guards from time to time.

The air was thick with despair and tension, like one spark could set the whole place off.

Some people tried to hold onto any shred of hope.

"What are you all scared of! We've got Prince Zhenbei! When has General Cui ever let those Northern Di bastards get the better of him?"

The voice was weak and thin in the chaos, instantly drowned out by more doubts.

"Prince Zhenbei's tough, but he's still just a man! Before, it was just the Northern Di—now it's three nations ganging up on us! You can't fight four hands with two!"

"Yeah, and I hear the Southern Kingdom's making moves too. Our Great Zhou... damn it!"

"Rely on the court? They're all the way in the capital—when have they ever given a damn about us border folk!"

The chaos spread like wildfire.

The Yunzhou prefectural office was under massive pressure. On one hand, they had to keep order and stop a riot.

On the other, they had to handle the court's conscription and supply demands—totally swamped.

On the walls, the garrison patrolled day and night, keeping a wary eye on the distant signal fires barely visible on the horizon.

On the rough wooden table in front of Cheng Ge lay a worn border defense map. He knew every mountain, river, and fort on it by heart.

His eyes swept grimly over the arrows marking enemy movements, and his throat itched.

He turned his head and coughed twice, low and suppressed. An unnatural flush crept over his pale cheeks.

The tent flap pushed open, letting in a blast of freezing air.

Lü Rou hurried in, immediately turning to pull the flap shut against the wind and snow.

She carried a freshly filled hand warmer, wrapped in thick cloth, and walked straight to Cheng Ge. Without letting him argue, she shoved the warm thing into his arms.

"Master, the weather's turned. The clouds are hanging low—this snow's going to be heavy." Lü Rou's voice was worried and urgent.

Hearing this, Cheng Ge's face darkened even more. Bad weather was just adding insult to injury.

He held the warm hand warmer, but his fingers still felt cold.

Cui Ji hadn't been back to camp for days. The news from the front was scattered and grim.

The Western Rong and the Southern Kingdom had clearly thrown in heavy forces this time. For days, their attacks had come in fiercer and fiercer waves.

They'd held the line thanks to the walls and Cui Ji's command, but casualties were heavy—even several officers had fallen.

He looked up at the gray sky outside the tent. The unease in his chest coiled tighter like vines.

He stood up suddenly, grabbed the heavy black cloak nearby, and fastened it around himself.

"Master!" Lü Rou hurriedly blocked him. "The wind outside is fierce..."

"It's fine. I'll just bundle up." Cheng Ge said quietly, giving her a faint smile before stepping around her and pushing through the flap.

The biting wind nearly blinded him. His cloak's hem whipped and snapped in the gusts.

He walked toward the city walls. The closer he got, the stronger the stench of blood and burning became, pressing on his chest until he could barely breathe.

By the time he reached the wall's walkway, the enemy's assault seemed to have paused. The deafening war drums were fading.

As far as he could see, it was devastation. Soldiers silently cleared the battlefield, carrying off their fallen comrades.

The wall bricks were splattered with dark red blood, frozen solid. Every so often, he caught glimpses of mangled remains too horrible to look at.

The stench of burning oil mixed harshly with blood. Cheng Ge instinctively stepped aside as a squad hurried past with a stretcher.

Soon, he spotted the familiar figure standing at the top of the gate tower.

Cui Ji had his back to him, his black iron armor caked with dust and dried blood.

He stood tall and straight, staring fixedly at the enemy camp in the distance.

In just a few days, he seemed to have lost weight. His jaw was clenched tight as he listened to reports from the subordinates beside him.

Cheng Ge stood at a distance. The wind swept past, carrying the stench of blood. He pulled his cloak tighter, his eyes fixed on that upright but clearly exhausted figure.

Cui Ji was listening intently to the Deputy General's urgent report, brow furrowed, when suddenly, as if sensing something, his eyes flicked to the walkway.

When he made out the thin figure in the wind, his expression froze.

He quickly gave a few brief orders to those around him, then strode straight toward Cheng Ge.

Days apart, amidst the flames of war, his longing for the man waiting in the tent had piled up to overflowing.

He stopped in front of Cheng Ge, blocking the wind, and said in a hoarse voice: "Why are you here?"

Cheng Ge was enveloped by his presence—the smoke of battle and the cold. He sniffled instinctively.

"The tent was suffocating. I came out for some air."

He looked up, wanting to study Cui Ji, but his eyes first landed on the obvious sword cuts and dark bloodstains on his armor.

Cui Ji was about to say more when a messenger scrambled up the tower, nearly falling.

His face was pale, his voice choked with tears as he cried: "General! Bad news! The southwest Luoyan Pass was hit by a surprise attack! General Wang... General Wang died fighting! The enemy has too many men—the pass... the pass might not hold!"

Cui Ji's face darkened like a thundercloud.

If Luoyan Pass fell, the enemy could march straight through, hitting the defenseless towns behind—burning, killing, looting. The consequences would be unimaginable!

"Give the order! Round up the remaining 20,000 light cavalry in the city and ride out with me to reinforce Luoyan Pass now!"

"Yes!" The messenger acknowledged the order and stumbled as he hurried down the wall.

Once the order was given, Cui Ji turned back, his eyes settling on Cheng Ge's face again.

The wind and snow seemed to pick up, snowflakes starting to fall thick and fast, wetting their shoulders and faces.

Cheng Ge looked at him, his throat tightening, a thousand words stuck in his chest.

In the end, it all came down to a seemingly offhand remark, his voice so soft it was almost lost to the wind: "Cui Ji, a big snowstorm's coming."

Cui Ji looked deep into Cheng Ge's eyes, where concern, worry, and all kinds of unspoken feelings were laid bare.

He reached out and pulled Cheng Ge into a hug, the icy armor digging painfully into him.

But the hug carried a burning, unmistakable intensity.

He lowered his head, pressing his dry, cracked lips hard against Cheng Ge's cold forehead, leaving a brief but searing mark.

"Wait for me to come back." Those four words he left at his ear, like the most solemn vow, yet also the simplest, most direct confession.

Then he abruptly let go and turned away without a backward glance.

His cloak kicked up snow behind him, and his figure quickly faded from view.

Cheng Ge stood frozen, the faint warmth on his forehead quickly stolen by the wind and snow.

He stared at the spot where the figure had disappeared, and only after a long moment did he slowly turn his gaze to the ground below the walls.

The heavy snow fell in flurries, starting to cover the devastation and the dark red bloodstains.

Trying to dress this hell on earth in a white shroud, but failing to mask the thick, sickening stench of blood in the air.

Cui Ji led 20,000 light cavalry, pushing through the ever-fiercer wind and snow.

Hooves churned through the snow, kicking up slush and ice shards, as they galloped hard toward the southwest.

...

"The city has fallen! The enemy has broken in! Run for your lives—!"

A piercing scream exploded from some corner, like a spark hitting boiling oil, instantly igniting the pent-up panic.

The townsfolk, already on edge from the sealed gates and swirling rumors, plunged into total chaos.

The crowd scattered like headless chickens, with cries, screams, and the crash of things being knocked over and shattered all mixing together, straining the crumbling order.

Some tried to rush the gates, shoving and scuffling with the guards.

Others fled blindly into houses along the street, only to be shoved back out by the even more frantic crowd...

The whole city was like a pot about to boil over, chaos spreading at a terrifying speed.

Cui Ji led his men through the streets, reining in his warhorse hard.

He looked toward the commotion rising in the city, his eyes darkening to pitch black in an instant.

Cui Ji's eyes quickly locked onto the man still screaming "The city has fallen" at the top of his lungs.

Cui Ji spurred his horse forward, his saber cutting a cold arc—"Thunk!"

The blade slashed clean across the man's neck, blood spraying onto the snow.

The restless crowd went dead silent, stunned by the sudden killing.

Cui Ji didn't pause, sweeping the saber tip down to rip open the man's coarse shirt.

A hideous, dark-green three-headed serpent tattoo was exposed for all to see!

"Three-headed serpent... a Shanyue Tribe spy!"

So there were spies spreading rumors, stoking panic, and trying to stir up chaos!

Cui Ji flicked the blood off his blade, his voice cold and carrying an iron authority that rang out across the restless district.

"Lock down the whole city! Flush out the spies! Anyone else spreading rumors or stirring up chaos will be executed on the spot!"

"Yes!" The defenders snapped to attention, answered in unison, and immediately got to work.

The momentarily confused soldiers found their bearings and started checking suspicious people.

Cui Ji stood on the walls of Luoyan Pass, the north wind whipping snow pellets into his face with a biting chill.

Gazing at the enemy forces surging like a tide beyond the pass, his frown deepened.

No, this was far more than the scouts had reported! The dark mass of the enemy seemed to stretch endlessly.

Wave after wave of attacks grew fiercer, and though the defenders fought desperately, their stretched-thin numbers were starting to show, with multiple points along the line in danger.

"General! The western watchtower is about to fall! The enemy's assault is too fierce!" A captain, his face bloody, rushed up to report.

Cui Ji's expression was grim, an unyielding coldness in his eyes.

He spun around and barked at the captain of his personal guard beside him:

"Take my token now, ride fast back to the main camp in the city, and have Zhao Cheng muster another 20,000 troops to reinforce us right away."

"Yes, sir!" The guard captain took the blood-stained token with both hands, turned, and ran down the wall.

Moments later, a lone rider broke through the wind and snow, galloping toward the main city of Yunzhou.

...

Yunzhou main city, central army camp.

Zhao Cheng received Cui Ji's token. Having repelled a wave of enemy attacks today, the enemy shouldn't make another move anytime soon.

"Immediately pull 20,000 men from the troops still fit to fight! Prioritize crossbows and siege defense gear, and get ready to reinforce Luoyan Pass!"

Zhao Cheng gritted his teeth and gave the order—military matters were urgent, and not a moment could be wasted.

The order spread quickly, and the camp buzzed into action.

But just as the troops and supplies were being hastily assembled and about to march, something went wrong.

Chen Feng, the deputy general originally picked to lead the reinforcement, was knocked down by a spooked warhorse during a final equipment check.

His left leg was broken on the spot—a serious injury that clearly left him unable to lead the campaign.

"General! General Li... he may not be able to go!" a guard rushed in to report.

Cheng Zhao's face sank—it was exactly what he'd been dreading!

After the recent battle to hold the main city, they'd already lost several commanders who could hold their own.

Chen Feng was the man he trusted most right now, and of course something had to go wrong at this exact moment.

The main city couldn't go unprotected, and he had to stay put—so who could he send?

The tent went quiet as the other commanders—some too green, some still nursing wounds—glanced at each other uneasily.

Just then, Han Meng suddenly stepped forward, breaking the silence: "General Zhao! I volunteer to lead troops to reinforce Luoyan Pass!"

………

Han Meng's twenty thousand reinforcements reached Luoyan Pass and quickly shored up the crumbling defenses.

The enemy's attacks outside the pass slackened, and they even started pulling back.

Cui Ji stood on the city wall, silently watching the enemy fall back, a faint glint of wariness flickering deep in his eyes.

"Tell Han Meng to bring his men inside the pass at once. No chasing after them." His voice cut through the wind and snow like the clash of metal on stone.

But Han Meng down below, on hearing the clear ring of the retreat gong, only glanced back.

For a split second, his eyes met Cui Ji's—a look too complicated to read.

Then he suddenly raised his long blade and roared, "Chase down the fleeing enemy—win glory and merit!" Ignoring the order, he and his men surged forward like a dam bursting.

Cui Ji's grip on his sword hilt tightened, his eyes going dark.

He gave no second order. He just turned and walked down from the wall. "All cavalry, out of the pass with me."

Thousands of riders followed Cui Ji, bursting out of the pass like arrows loosed from a bow, kicking up clouds of snow.

Cui Ji rode at the front, the bad feeling in his gut growing heavier with every stride.

After chasing for about seven or eight li, the ground started to narrow, with steep cliffs rising on both sides—a textbook spot for an ambush.

Sure enough, the "retreating" enemy up ahead suddenly stopped and turned. No more panic on their faces—just cold, murderous intent.

At the same time, war drums thundered from both hillsides as countless dark figures rose up like ghosts.

Arrows came down like a swarm of locusts, and Han Meng's vanguard was cut to pieces in an instant!

"Ambush! Pull back!" Han Meng shouted, panic in his voice.

But his men were already deep in the valley, strung out in a long line, and instantly caught in a three-way trap.

"Form up! Fight our way to the valley mouth!" Cui Ji arrived with his men just in time to see it all.

Cui Ji tried to rip a hole in the enemy's ring to cover Han Meng's retreat.

The fight turned savage in an instant. The snow ran red with blood. Severed limbs and dead horses piled up together, and the ring of steel and screams of horses were deafening.

Cui Ji's sword flashed like a streak of light, every swing spraying blood as he hacked a bloody path through the enemy ranks.

Just as he was about to reach Han Meng's men and break out of the valley mouth, something went horribly wrong!

From two more directions at the valley mouth, dust clouds rolled in—another huge force of enemy cavalry appeared, sealing off any escape! A full four-sided trap!

The enemy had way more men than they'd figured—this was a carefully laid death trap.

Cui Ji's heart went cold. The feeling that something was wrong hit its peak.

The enemy knew their every move too well—like every step had been predicted in advance.

"Tighten the formation! Circle up! Push east!" Cui Ji barked out orders.

They had to break out fast—every second they stayed meant a bigger chance of getting wiped out.

The soldiers obeyed, reforming into a ring with a forest of spears pointing outward.

The crossbowmen inside fired off what arrows they had left as they made a desperate charge at the thinner-looking enemy line to the east.

Cui Ji still rode at the very front, his armor slashed and crusted with blood.

A deep crack in his shoulder guard was seeping blood, soaking the tunic underneath.

Han Meng fought his way desperately through the chaos to reach Cui Ji, drenched in blood and regret, shouting in a hoarse voice: "General! I disobeyed orders—I deserve to die for it!

Please, General, take the main force back to the pass now. I'll hold the rear with my men and pay for my mistake with my life!"

Even as he spoke, he urged his horse up beside Cui Ji, lowering his long blade to block attacks from the side.

Cui Ji glanced at him without a word. Just as he swung his sword to knock away a stray arrow and pulled his horse back—

At that exact moment, an arrow from out of nowhere screamed toward Cui Ji's face with a shrill whistle!

The angle was nasty, the timing perfect!

"General, watch out!" Han Meng bellowed, throwing himself off his horse like a moth diving into a flame.

He crashed into Cui Ji, swinging his blade like he meant to knock the arrow away.

It all happened too fast—there was no time to react.

But in that flash of an instant!

"Thunk—!" A dull, wet sound of a blade sinking into flesh burst in Cui Ji's ears, louder than all the chaos around him.

For a moment, the air itself seemed to freeze.

A searing, unnameable pain ripped through his right shoulder blade!

The pain was so sharp it nearly took all his strength and breath in one go.

Cui Ji's body went rigid as he stared at Han Meng in front of him.

"General!!" The young guard right beside him let out a bloodcurdling scream, his voice breaking.

Cui Ji swayed hard in the saddle, grabbing the reins with his good left hand to steady himself.

He snapped his head up, his eyes now frozen with killing intent!

"Clang—!" His left hand had already grabbed a short blade from his belt.

With terrifying speed and a desperate, do-or-die fury, he swung it down in a savage arc at Han Meng, who had just hit the ground!

This strike, born of fury, gathered all the strength and killing intent he had at that moment!

Han Meng clearly hadn't expected Cui Ji to unleash such a swift counterattack after suffering such a severe wound, and he hastily raised his blade to block.

"Clang—!" Sparks flew everywhere!

Although Han Meng blocked the vital blow, Cui Ji's furious strike carried immense force.

He was sent staggering back several steps, the webbing between his thumb and forefinger split open, his long blade nearly slipping from his grasp, and he ultimately crashed to the ground.

From Han Meng's "save" to his being knocked down by Cui Ji's counterattack, it all happened within just two or three breaths!

It wasn't until Han Meng hit the ground that the surrounding Cui Family Army guards and commanders fully snapped out of their shock at the earth-shattering betrayal.

"Han Meng has betrayed us! Protect the general!!" The anguished roar ripped across the battlefield.

Without needing any orders, the Cui Family soldiers instantly tightened their formation, using their own bodies to shield Cui Ji at the center amidst the chaos!

Countless bloodshot eyes locked onto Han Meng on the ground and the surging enemy forces around him.

Meanwhile, the Beidi Army on the periphery saw Cui Ji wounded and erupted in thunderous, frenzied howls.

"Cui Ji is wounded! Kill him! Ten thousand gold taels!"

"Take Cui Ji's head!!"

The enemy's morale surged instantly, their assault crashed like raging waves as they hurled themselves even more madly at the seemingly wavering circular formation.

At the center of the formation, Cui Ji's face was pale as a sheet, blood soaking half his battle robe, dripping steadily from his armor.

He gripped his blade with his left hand, using it to support himself, his breathing rapid.

He glanced at Han Meng on the ground, then swept his gaze over the surrounding Northern Di.

Cui Ji's face had turned pale as snow, the gruesome wound on his right shoulder sending waves of dizziness through him.

Blood soaked through his battle robe, dripping down his armor, pooling into a small, stark red puddle at his feet, quickly diluted and buried by the falling snow.

Yet he still stood straight, the war blade in his left hand supporting his swaying body.

His cold, deep eyes swept over the enemies surging in from all sides, his voice hoarse but cutting through the wind and snow:

"Circle formation, arrowhead, push forward!"

"Spearmen, advance, thrust every three steps, don't retreat!"

"Crossbowmen, fire high, cover fifty paces ahead, clear the path!"

"Wounded, to the center! Guard squad, with me, hold the rear!"

His gaze passed over the faces of those around him, each marked with death-defying resolve, and finally settled on the young guard's face: "You, lead the charge."

The formation shifted instantly, the front forming a sharp arrowhead, launching a desperate charge at the densest part of the enemy line on the eastern side!

And Cui Ji, surrounded by his most loyal guards, remained at the very rear of the formation.

He swung his blade with his left hand, his movements visibly slowed by his injury, each block and each slash a painful struggle.

Veins bulged at his temples, cold sweat mingling with blood streaming down his face.

Yet he stood like a rock, stubbornly holding the line between the pursuers and the retreating force.

The snow fell thicker and thicker. Large, feathery snowflakes fell thick and fast, blurring their vision, covering the bloodstains, and muffling the sounds of battle.

The cold snowflakes landed on Cui Ji's burning wound, bringing a brief chill, but also speeding up the loss of his body heat.

His lips began to turn purple, the hand gripping his blade trembled slightly, his vision going in and out of focus.

"General! Hold on!" A guard used his body to block a stray arrow for him, but stumbled and fell, cut down by a blade.

Cui Ji didn't even have time to look at his fallen subordinate before another enemy's curved blade swept toward his face.

He desperately raised his left arm to block. "Clang!" The deafening clash numbed half his body, and the tearing pain from his wound nearly brought him to his knees.

"Protect the general!" The remaining guards roared like wild beasts, forming a final wall of flesh, desperately shielding the figure at the center who was staying upright almost purely by willpower.

The arrowhead formation, after paying a heavy price, finally tore a narrow, bloody gap in the enemy line to the east!

"General! The gap is open! Go now!" A hoarse cry rang out from ahead.

Cui Ji bit the tip of his tongue sharply, the piercing pain jolting his hazy mind awake for a moment.

He glanced at the few remaining guards beside him, battered and wounded, yet still fiercely protecting him.

He didn't hesitate. "Go!"

He barked out the order, swung his left-hand war blade fiercely to drive back an approaching enemy, then turned and staggered toward the gap.

Each step landed on the muddy, blood-soaked snow, leaving a trail of bloody footprints, some deep, some shallow, quickly covered by fresh snow.

The Northern Di behind him, seeing him trying to flee, surged forward even more frantically.

Arrows, like relentless curses, whistled past his ears and around him.

A guard let out a muffled grunt, struck in the back by an arrow, but gritted his teeth and shoved Cui Ji forward.

The wind and snow lashed their faces with biting cold.

Ahead, the cries of battle; behind, the howls of pursuers; beside him, the heavy breathing and occasional grunts of his comrades.

[Author's note: Accidentally sent out all the drafts... a bit dead inside]