Volume One, Chapter 17: Counterattack in the Snowfields

Inside the military tent.

Wei Wentong sat sideways on the only wooden chair, his dark cloak trailing to the ground. The snow-stained tips of his boots rested casually on the edge of the charcoal brazier, his hands extended to warm by the fire. A dozen or so guards stood around him in a circle, their arrows glowing with an eerie green light... The arrowheads were coated with a sticky poison, the stench mingling with the scent of burning charcoal, making one feel dizzy and faint.

“Qi Zhiyuan, you secretly released enemy spies. By law, your entire clan shall be executed!”

“Master Commander, I was wrong. I beg you to spare me this once...” Qi Zhiyuan knelt on the ground, his face as pale as paper.

“Wrong?”

Squad leader Liu Wu suddenly stood up and pressed his battle knife against Qi Zhiyuan’s neck, his voice cold and stern: “Those who collude with the enemy must be beheaded by law. Do you think begging for mercy will save you?”

The blade cut a line of blood as fresh crimson seeped slowly from the wound.

Qi Zhiyuan trembled uncontrollably, a dark stain spreading in his trousers, dripping down to the ground.

The surrounding guards showed no expression, as though the man before them was not a comrade but livestock awaiting slaughter.

Sigh!

Finally, Wei Wentong raised a hand, signaling Liu Wu to withdraw his blade, and he let out a long sigh: “Qi Zhiyuan, we are comrades in arms. To die at the hands of the Beiyan people is to sacrifice for the country. To die by the hands of your own men would bring shame even upon me.”

“Please, Master Commander, grant me a chance to atone!”

Qi Zhiyuan clung to this hope like a lifeline, kowtowing repeatedly: “I am willing to fight on the front lines. To die in battle, I will harbor no complaints!”

Wei Wentong raised an eyebrow, then nodded firmly at last: “Very well, I will give you a chance to redeem yourself.”

He gave a subtle signal to his guards, and soon someone carried in a slab of pork weighing over ten pounds. The glistening pigskin still bore a few bristly hairs, clearly freshly butchered.

What was this for?

Qi Zhiyuan held the pork nervously.

“Zhang Muyang is going back to the village with his fellow townsmen for the New Year, isn’t he?” Wei Wentong stroked his beard, a cold gleam flashing in his eyes. “You’ll deliver this pork to him and cultivate good relations. When we capture that Beiyan woman, you’ll be credited with the first success.”

“Thank you, Master Commander!”

Qi Zhiyuan bowed deeply, clutching the pork as he left the camp. Cold sweat soaked his back. He stared down at the meat in his arms as if it were a red-hot iron brand... He clearly understood Wei Wentong’s intentions; there was no simple reason behind this meat.

In the new recruit barracks, the young men from Zhangjia Village were busy packing their belongings.

“Sergeant Zhang!”

Qi Zhiyuan’s voice rang at the door, forcing a warm tone. A smile plastered on his face, his eyes darted evasively as he shoved the pork into Zhang Muyang’s arms: “It’s the New Year. Take this meat home to the villagers so they can make dumplings. Consider it a token of my goodwill.”

“This is far too precious...”

“No need for formalities!” Qi Zhiyuan’s hand trembled slightly as he raised his voice: “I’ll be waiting here in camp for your return. Don’t be late and jeopardize the mission!”

This meat was definitely suspicious!

Zhang Muyang’s heart pounded fiercely, but he calmly placed the pork into his basket and smiled: “Thanks, Sergeant Qi. We need to buy some supplies in the county town and return to the village early.”

The festive atmosphere in the county town was growing stronger. Faded red lanterns hung outside the general store, vendors huddled with their necks pulled in, shouting out their wares. Their hands, red from the cold, clutched candied fruits, New Year prints, and coarse cloth.

The young men from Zhangjia Village held their pay and shopped around—some bought coarse rice, some pork, some candy... It was the New Year after all; there had to be some semblance of celebration.

As for Zhang Muyang?

He bought a live chicken, its wings bound with straw rope, and tossed it into his basket.

Su Ying asked, “What’s that for?”

“Useful,” Zhang Muyang smiled, saying no more.

The group left through the south gate, sledding through the snow toward the village.

Snowflakes fell like torn cotton, swirling in a vast white expanse. The biting wind whipped snowflakes against their faces, stinging painfully—eyes squinting shut, they had no choice but to watch the footprints ahead, stepping carefully as they moved forward.

After barely two miles, Zhang Muyang suddenly raised his hand: “Stop.”

“Brother Muyang, what’s wrong?” Zhang Xiaobei urged anxiously. “We only have three days off; we must keep moving!”

“Wait two minutes.”

Without explanation, Zhang Muyang reached into his basket and sliced a small piece from the slab of pork with his Cold Feather knife. He then grabbed a handful of millet from their rations and mixed the shredded meat in, scattering it on the snow.

He untied the chicken’s legs, which staggered over to peck at the food.

But in moments, the chicken flapped its wings twice, kicked its legs, and collapsed stiffly onto the snow, its neck twisted at a grotesque angle, black blood dripping from its beak.

“Poisoned!”

Zhang Xiaobei recoiled in shock.

Su Ying’s face darkened as she pressed a fingertip against the hilt of her battle knife at her waist: “Qi Zhiyuan tried to kill you?”

“Qi Zhiyuan wouldn’t dare.”

Zhang Muyang’s gaze grew colder as he stared at the pork. He drew his Cold Feather knife, slicing through the pigskin with a sharp hiss. Inside the marbled meat was a tightly rolled paper slip.

The message was simple: “To the esteemed Lord Wolf King: The Beiyan servant girl is now under my control. Nineteen from Zhangjia Village are willing to act as insiders, awaiting the Wolf King’s iron cavalry. Signed: Zhang Muyang.”

Zhang Muyang sneered: “This is definitely Wei Wentong’s doing. He knows that killing me openly would raise Chen Duizheng’s suspicions, so he wants to kill me by proxy... Either we die on the way back, or we return to camp and are punished for secret collusion.”

“What do we do now?”

“Since he’s laid this trap, he won’t let us live to see the village.”

Zhang Muyang looked toward the Ten-Mile Slope in the distance, the only path home. Thick woods flanked both sides, now blanketed in snow, appearing calm but like a slumbering beast.

“Everyone listen up: slow the sleds, string your bows, unsheathe your blades, and be ready to fight at any moment!”

The sleds moved slowly over the snow, the young men’s hearts pounding in their throats.

The cold wind howled through the woods like wild beasts roaring. The closer they got to Ten-Mile Slope, the faster Zhang Muyang’s heartbeat raced. The sensation of being watched grew stronger, as if countless eyes were hidden behind snowdrifts, fixated on them.

“Stop! Hide!”

Zhang Muyang shouted sharply, leaping off the sled and diving into the roadside forest.

Su Ying, Lin Xiaobei, and the others reacted swiftly, disappearing into the snow-covered woods.

Zhang Muyang signaled Su Ying to take watch while he grabbed his Cold Feather knife and plunged into the dense forest. The blade sliced through tree trunks as thick as a bowl, which crashed down with a snap. Sharpened wooden stakes were precisely positioned and lightly covered with fresh snow. Vines wrapped logs dangled on the slope, ready to crash down if their bindings were cut.

The deadliest were the bamboo spike traps.

Sharpened bamboo slivers arranged like barbs, hidden under dead branches and snow, blending flawlessly into the surroundings.

“Brother Muyang, this is...” Zhang Xiaobei swallowed nervously.

“Remember, there is no cruelty on the battlefield, only life and death!”

Zhang Muyang stood tall, shouting loudly: “Wei Wentong’s dogs, stop hiding! You think these tricks can ambush old Zhang? If you’ve got the guts, come out and face me—I’ll skin you alive!”

“Despicable!”

“Just a rookie sergeant, daring to challenge me?”

An angry shout came from the opposite woods—it was Squad Leader Liu Wu.

Unexpectedly, he and his personal guards, hiding in the snow, had been discovered.

After so long frozen stiff like a fool, he could no longer hold back.

Liu Wu tore off his face mask and yelled: “Zhang Muyang, how dare you collude with Beiyan rebels? Today, none of you will live!”

Over thirty guards burst from the woods, wielding Yan steel sabers that gleamed coldly in the snowy light.

“Shoot!”

At Zhang Muyang’s command, Zhang Xiaobei, Gou Sheng, and the others nocked their arrows.

A dozen arrows whistled through the air, striking the guards in front, who fell instantly with arrows embedded in their chests, blood gushing from the wounds.

“Form ranks!”

Liu Wu roared, raising his shield to block the incoming volleys.

He wore scale armor with a tanned leather base, covered on chest, back, shoulders, and arms with densely packed metal scales strung together by leather cords. The fish scale plates were both flexible and sturdy, glinting faintly in the sunlight.

Such armor was exclusive to squad leaders, offering protection far superior to the tanned leather armor worn by sergeants.

The border garrison’s armor was strictly ranked: ordinary soldiers wore leather, sergeants wore tanned leather armor, squad leaders wore scale armor, commanders wore black iron armor, and company commanders like Chen Xiucheng donned radiant flow armor.

Now, Zhang Muyang still wore the battered tanned leather armor that once belonged to Zhang Kui. Seeing Liu Wu’s scale armor, his eyes instantly reddened.

This gap was not just in equipment but a brazen declaration from Wei Wentong: even if you know it was me, you won’t live to prove it!

“Retreat!”

Zhang Muyang decided instantly, retreating into the forest depths while shouting: “Use branches to cover our tracks!”

The young men immediately swept the snow-covered footprints clean with branches.

The snowfall thickened, quickly erasing all traces.

Deep in the forest, Zhang Muyang and his companions melted into the shadows. The frost patterns on the Cold Feather knife flickered softly like a poised beast, waiting for its prey to fall into the trap.

Liu Wu and his guards had already charged into the woods...