Volume One: Flames on the Border Chapter 59: The Ferocious Tiger and the Monstrous Bird

“Qingyun has become your wife—does this gladden your heart?” Chen Qingyun asked in a whisper.

She had adored He Yu, pursuing him with all her might, and now, on this night when her wish was finally fulfilled, doubt crept in. She always felt He Yu’s affections for her were distant, never as warm as those he showed to Deng’er.

“My dear, what are you saying? To marry you in this life is my greatest fortune. Only when I think of Deng’er… I…” He Yu drew Chen Qingyun into his arms, gazing at her snowy-white face and large eyes, and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

Chen Qingyun, lost in rapture, murmured, “If your heart holds Qingyun, then I am content, even in death. Deng’er… little sister Deng’er… she once told me…” Remembering Deng’er, a pang of sorrow struck her, and she could not continue.

He Yu pressed his finger to her lips and said with vehemence, “Say no more, my love. I know it all. I, He Yu, vow before heaven, that from this day forth, I will let no harm come to a single hair on your head.”

Moved by his words, Chen Qingyun nestled closer to him. Suddenly she asked, “If I recall correctly, you and I were born in the same year. I wonder, whose birthday comes first?”

They exchanged their birth dates and discovered that Chen Qingyun was older by three days.

He Yu laughed. “So I ought to call you Sister Qingyun from now on!”

Blushing, Chen Qingyun waved her delicate hands. “No, don’t.” After a moment’s thought, she added, “From now on, call me your wife, and I shall call you He Lang. Would that please you?”

“Yes, that’s very fine. But if you’re not my elder sister, haven’t you lost out?” He Yu chuckled.

Chen Qingyun smiled, lips pursed. “I have no wish to be an elder sister.”

Embracing each other, they reminisced about happenings at the manor. It amazed them how fate had played its hand: in less than a year, two people who had never met were now husband and wife. The tribulations along the way only made the present more poignant.

Because Chen Qingyun was still in mourning, it was improper for them to stay together. After a time of tender intimacy, they each returned to their own quarters.

At dawn the next day, He Yu and Chen Qingyun took leave of Ran Yu and set out for Pingcheng on horseback. Ran Yu saw them to the foot of the mountain, gave many instructions, and finally, with reluctance, turned back.

The Yan army at Yanmen was now under the command of Murong Lin, a master of warfare who had heavily fortified the pass. Yanmen, famed as the foremost of the nine frontier passes, was the gateway from the steppe into the Central Plains—easy to defend, hard to attack, and always a site of military contention.

Not wishing to clash with the forces at Yanmen, He Yu and Chen Qingyun took a detour through mountain paths toward Pingcheng. The journey was arduous, the paths rough, but thanks to their skill, they were not trapped amidst the peaks.

Traveling by day and resting by night, they pressed on relentlessly. By the fourth night, they had covered more than half the distance. After a meal of dry rations, they found a sheltered hollow and, wrapped in each other’s arms, drifted quickly into sleep, exhausted from the day’s travel.

Suddenly, their dreams were shattered by the agitated cries of their warhorses. Startled awake, they saw, gleaming in the darkness, a pair of cold, lamp-like eyes charging toward them. In the moonlight beneath the trees, it was revealed to be a massive, striped tiger.

A gasp escaped Chen Qingyun as she recoiled in fright, drawing her sword instinctively. He Yu, practiced in martial arts and protected by enchanted armor and sword, felt fear but did not lose his composure in the face of the wild beast.

“Don’t be afraid, my love. I’ll handle it.”

He Yu drew his mighty sword, placing himself before Chen Qingyun, facing the tiger head-on.

His words steadied her, and she stepped forward to stand with him against the beast.

The tiger growled, crouched with its forepaws, and with a thunderous roar, lunged at He Yu.

“Be careful, He Lang!” Chen Qingyun called out.

A rush of fetid wind struck as the tiger’s massive paw, with the force of a thousand pounds, swung toward them. Though He Yu had experienced many perils, he was still of mortal flesh; a single blow would be disastrous.

He acted without hesitation, ducking low and rolling beneath the tiger’s belly, then springing up to slash at its underside.

A tearing sound—his sword sliced through the tiger’s belly as though through mud. The beast crashed to the ground, thrashing, its innards spilling out, and after a brief struggle, it lay still.

In a single move, He Yu had slain the tiger—a feat almost beyond belief.

“He Lang, you are truly formidable. I am in awe,” Chen Qingyun praised.

“It was only luck. I was frightened myself,” He Yu admitted honestly. Though he had survived many battles since his arrival in this world, this was his first time facing a tiger.

“Could this be a tiger’s den? Who knows if there are more?” Chen Qingyun asked, still uneasy. Once so decisive, she now looked to her husband for guidance.

“Tigers are solitary. At most, there may be another one. If it comes, I’ll handle it. Don’t worry, my dear,” He Yu replied.

Reassured by his confidence, Chen Qingyun relaxed.

The horses, terrified by the encounter, had fouled the ground, and the blood and entrails of the tiger filled the air with a foul stench.

Chen Qingyun, fastidious by nature, could not bear to sleep there. They found a new sheltered spot and lay down fully clothed. Just as they were speaking softly together, the warhorses neighed in panic once more.

In the moonlight, a monstrous bird, as large as a small hill, perched on the back of Chen Qingyun’s horse, its talons piercing the animal’s spine. The horse barely struggled before collapsing. The bird lowered its long neck and began tearing at the flesh. Its form resembled a giant eagle, feathers black as iron, a horned crest on its head, and wings so vast they blotted out the horse beneath. The white dragon steed, usually fierce and unruly, was frozen in terror, unable to move or even whimper.

He Yu, alarmed, whispered, “What manner of monster is this? So huge—if we fight it, we cannot hope to prevail.” He pulled Chen Qingyun close, hiding in the shadows, watching the beast devour the horse in silence.

After half an hour, a quarter of the horse was gone, bones gleaming white. Sated, the monster bird flapped its wings, shaking down a storm of dust and leaves.

Pacing a few steps, it suddenly spotted their hiding place, and with a shriek, charged at them.

Its neck feathers bristled like a wheel as it struck at He Yu with its beak.

“Be careful!” He Yu, sword at the ready, leapt back and brought his blade down upon the creature’s head.

The monster, caught off guard by his speed, jerked its head aside. The sword struck its horned crest with a clang, chipping off a small piece.

“I’m coming, He Lang!” Chen Qingyun, seeing the danger, overcame her fear, drew her crossbow, and fired at the bird’s wings.

Two sharp reports—the bolts bounced off, leaving the beast unscathed.

Enraged, the bird turned on Chen Qingyun, beating its wings furiously. The ground swirled with leaves and dirt, blinding He Yu.

Realizing things were dire, He Yu leapt onto the bird’s back, grabbing its feathers with one hand and raining punches down with the other.

Blow after blow landed, and the bird, in pain, turned from Chen Qingyun and tried to peck He Yu off. Unlike men, beasts fight with no pattern—its attacks were swift as lightning, and He Yu took several blows before he could shield his head and face. Thanks to his enchanted armor, his body was not pierced, but each peck felt like a hammer blow, shaking him to his core.

“This creature is relentless—tonight our chances are grim,” He Yu shouted to Qingyun. “My love, don’t mind me—run, now, quickly!”

Chen Qingyun, unaware of his magical protection, thought him gravely wounded and cried resolutely, “I won’t leave you, He Lang. If I must die, I’ll die with you!” Seizing the sword, she struck wildly at the bird’s wings, desperate and fearless.

“My love, go, please, run!” He Yu was near tears, pounding the beast’s back with all his strength. Yet the monster’s body was huge and iron-hard; though it screamed in pain, it would not yield.

He Yu felt his strength slipping away. He tried several times to summon his inner energy, but found his reserves exhausted.

Just then, the monster bird let out a piercing cry, flapped its wings, and lifted off. Too heavy to fly high, it skimmed through the trees, shaking He Yu loose. He tumbled to the ground, clutching a handful of feathers, while the beast vanished into the night.

He Yu collapsed, panting, utterly spent. Chen Qingyun, battered and dirtied, sat beside him, her clothes torn.

“Are you alright, He Lang?”

“Are you alright, my love?”

They spoke at once, both grateful to be alive.

He Yu knew that had the beast not fled, neither would have survived.

“I’m alright—just drained,” He Yu said, taking her hand, which felt feverish to his touch.

“I’m unhurt too. He Lang, what was that creature?” Chen Qingyun gasped.

“I have no idea,” He Yu replied. He could not fathom how such a monstrous bird could exist in these woods—it was no longer the age of dinosaurs.

The feathers he had pulled out were three feet long, hard and resilient. Only four had come loose in that desperate struggle—proof of the creature’s near-invulnerability.

Fearing the bird might return, or bring others, they dared not linger. Forcing themselves onward, leading the white dragon steed, they hurried toward Pingcheng through the night.

After a short while, exhausted and far enough from danger, they stopped at last. Strangely, after the ordeal, the white dragon steed, once unmanageable, was now utterly docile, having been frightened into obedience.