In the territory of Western Liang in October, fierce winds had already begun to howl, sweeping dust and sand across the withered yellow grasslands, slowing the pace of the traveling party.
The group numbered several dozen, including the old and young, women and children. They drove horse-drawn carts piled high with belongings—tents and other household items. The elderly and women, clutching children, swayed unsteadily as they sat atop the carts.
The children were no longer playful as they used to be, and the elders wore somber expressions.
"The wind is too strong. Let's find a place to settle here," someone in the group shouted.
This statement was met with cheers from many, though others voiced doubts.
"Let's keep moving forward a bit more."
"This place still isn't very safe."
The doubters were immediately surrounded by others. "We've come far enough; it's safe now." "There won't be any pasture further ahead." "Do you want to venture deep into the desert?"
Arguments broke out among the traveling party, but in the next moment, the roaring wind carried not only dust and sand but also the sound of hoofbeats and shouts—shouts in a different accent than theirs.
"Bandits from Daxia!"
"They're here again!"
"They've chased us all the way here!"
The quarreling group instantly turned panicked. Both people and horses quickened their pace, not daring to linger for even a moment.
The elders tightened their grip on the children, sitting on the swaying carts as they glanced back at the rising dust clouds and the receding grasslands, tears streaming down their faces.
"The Great King has fallen. The Daxia bandits roam the grasslands, and we are displaced, adrift and without refuge," they murmured softly, fleeing the grasslands and plunging into the desert.
The billowing dust did not follow them into the desert but halted at its edge. As the dust settled, the figures of several dozen people emerged, their faces wrapped in scarves. They watched the fleeing group with regret.
"This tribe is quite large and seems wealthy."
"Letting them go goes against our bandit principles."
"Huh? What principles do we bandits have?"
"A thief never leaves empty-handed."
Listening to the chatter, Mu Mianhong did not stop them. Instead, she said, "Bandits have another principle."
Everyone turned to look at her.
Mu Mianhong, her face covered by a scarf except for her eyes, smiled faintly. "Never slaughter all the fat sheep."
The group laughed. "The boss is right." "Let the Western Liang sheep grow fatter." "We can harvest them again and again." With these shouts and a wave of Mu Mianhong's hand, they dispersed to patrol the wilderness.
The smile in Mu Mianhong's eyes faded, replaced by sorrow.
"Is something wrong?" the man beside her asked cautiously, scanning their surroundings. After all, they were still in Western Liang territory. Though the King of Xiliang had been defeated, a starved camel was still larger than a horse.
Mu Mianhong shook her head, her gaze sweeping the area as a smile returned to her eyes. "General Chu had a wish—to roam freely through Western Liang."
Unexpectedly, she had fulfilled his wish today.
A moment later, Mu Mianhong's eyes lit up as an idea struck her.
"I should dig up General Chu's ashes and bring him here."
The men, who had been moved by her words, were startled. "Boss, Zhong Changrong would fight us to the death over that."
Mu Mianhong chuckled. "Am I afraid of him?"
Indeed, the boss was not afraid of Zhong Changrong, and for Chu Ling's sake, she was capable of doing something truly reckless. The men's minds raced as they tried to dissuade Mu Mianhong from her idea."That would upset Miss Azhao." "General Chu has become a heroic spirit, he might have long been wandering—no, patrolling—within Western Liang." "That's right, boss. When you raided the Western Liang royal court earlier, that was something General Chu always wanted to do. Perhaps he was right there with you at that time."
Mu Mianhong's eyes shimmered with laughter like rippling water as she nodded. "You're right."
She looked around again, her gaze still wistful, but she didn't mention digging up graves anymore. The men breathed a sigh of relief and were about to change the subject when hoofbeats approached rapidly from behind.
"Boss," they called out, "a letter from Marshal Zhong."
Mu Mianhong took the letter, opened it, and read. The laughter in her eyes deepened, but she sighed softly. "A Zhao is working too hard."
"Should we send some troops to assist Miss Azhao?" the men around her asked.
Mu Mianhong glanced at the letter again and shook her head. "Not for now. We're still within Western Liang territory. We need to push the Western Liang people further away, make them too afraid to approach this area again."
The men acknowledged the order.
"Also," the messenger added, "while we were patrolling earlier, we captured a merchant—a merchant from Great Xia."
Mu Mianhong turned to look. "Why would a Great Xia merchant appear in Western Liang territory?"
"He claimed he was captured and brought to Western Liang, and now that Western Liang is defeated, he's trying to escape back," the messenger explained. "But we found his behavior highly suspicious, so we decided to tie him up—"
They were bandits, not Great Xia soldiers sworn to protect the nation and its people. Robbing Western Liang merchants was one thing, but they could just as well rob Great Xia merchants—that suited their identity better—
"But unexpectedly, he killed himself," the messenger said.
As he spoke, a horse approached carrying a corpse—a chubby man dressed as a merchant.
Not attempting to flee or beg for mercy, but suicide? Mu Mianhong's eyes turned sharp. Using death to conceal a secret.
"Send him to Zhong Changrong," she said. "Have him investigate this merchant's origins."
Watching the bandits tasked with delivering the message gallop away with the corpse, Mu Mianhong's frown didn't ease but grew more severe. Her gaze turned toward the rear.
The peace negotiations had ended. The King of Xiliang had withdrawn with his troops, and the various tribes of Western Liang were migrating away. Surely nothing else would go wrong?
...
...
Near the border, dust clouds swirled over the grasslands, filled with the sounds of clashing weapons.
Standing at the foot of a slope, Zhong Changrong felt as if he had returned to the battlefield against Western Liang.
But the war was supposed to be over.
"General, the enemy forces are larger than anticipated," a guard reported in a low voice as he hurried over. "They're definitely royal troops."
"General, the King of Xiliang has broken his word after all!" another guard exclaimed angrily.
"It's not just an ambush," a soldier said calmly. "They've planted spies among us."
That was why Zhong Changrong, on a sudden impulse to inspect the new border with a light escort, had walked into an ambush.
He hadn't even known he would come to this location before setting out.
The ambush was precise, accurate—as if an eye had been watching their every move.
Another soldier could no longer contain his rage. "Do these Western Liang bandits think they can set foot in Great Xia like this?" He raised his longsword with his uninjured arm. "They're dreaming!"
The soldiers around him joined in with scornful laughter.
Zhong Changrong, who had remained silent until now, suddenly smiled faintly at this."Perhaps they don't intend to enter Great Xia," he said, his gaze deeper than the night. "They simply want to kill me."
......
......
The scout lay flat against his horse, nearly merging with the animal. With arrows piercing his back, his consciousness had grown hazy, no longer able to guide the horse.
But this wasn't a problem. Once they broke through the encirclement, the old horse knowing the way would carry him to the nearest garrison.
Troops from the newly reclaimed territory of Great Xia had already stationed there, with tight security posts.
Just one more hill to cross—
But as he crossed the hill, he was met with a rain of arrows. The horse whinnied and collapsed, while the rider on its back fell to the ground without uttering a sound. In his unclosed eyes reflected a dozen soldiers standing solemnly in a row on the hillside.
Great Xia soldiers.
......
......
Liang Qiang closed his eyes.
"This time, are you asking me to open the door to the wolves again?" he asked hoarsely. "I truly don't know now whether the master behind you is even from Great Xia?"
Harming Great Xia time and time again.
Yet, it doesn't seem like Western Liang either, because Western Liang hasn't gained any advantage either.
Perhaps it should be said - is that master behind all this even human!
He casually plucks the strings, completely indifferent to how many people die with each chord.
The soldier smiled: "Captain Liang, this time it's for you - to let you turn the tide and restore your honor."
Liang Qiang looked at him woodenly: "Then when should I go to turn the tide?"
The soldier replied: "After Zhong Changrong dies."
OpenNovel