Volume One: The Frontier in Flames, Chapter Eighty-Seven: Invincible and Alone

He Yu’s shout gave away their position, and a volley of arrows immediately rained toward the place where they were hiding. Two sharp cracks rang out as the arrows struck the corner of the city wall. He Yu grabbed Qingyun and hurried her to another spot, crouching with her in a dead angle beside the wall.

The Later Yan army was at a disadvantage, yet it could still shoot by sound toward where He Yu was concealed, proof that it was well trained. Qingyun wiped the blood from her face, her eyes bright with excitement, and said, “Brother He, the Yan dogs are done for. It looks as though Pingcheng has been held.”

He Yu nodded, then, seized by a sudden mischievous impulse, bent down and kissed her hard on the cheek. Qingyun’s fair face flushed pink. She cast a furtive glance around; the white mist was thick, and not a soul could be seen.

Though her temperament was open and direct, she was still a young lady from a proper household, and she truly could not bear his sudden kiss in broad daylight.

He Yu chuckled. “Don’t be afraid, my dear. No one can see us.”

Qingyun pouted and refused to look at him.

The cries of killing shook the heavens, yet this dead angle of the wall seemed like a forgotten sanctuary, a patch of pure land amid a battlefield that resembled the very hell of slaughter. It was as if a realm of peace had been cut out of the infernal chaos by some impossible stroke.

No one knew how long passed before the din of battle slowly diminished and finally vanished entirely. A blood-red sun rose from the east, and the mist began to disperse. Wherever the eye could reach, corpses lay strewn across the blackened city wall, blood flowed like rivers, and when the morning wind blew, the stench struck straight to the head.

He Yu pulled Qingyun up and went to inspect the defenses. The Later Yan soldiers had already disappeared without a trace. As the mist thinned, the tents of the Later Yan army outside the city floated in the whitening haze like lonely islands, looking dispirited and forlorn.

Ah!

Ah!

....

A few miserable screams drew He Yu’s attention. Turning his head, he saw several Northern Wei soldiers covered in blood, each carrying a blade as they cleaned the battlefield one by one. Whenever they found a wounded Later Yan soldier lying on the ground, they immediately finished him off with a few strokes, and so the cries went on without end.

He had thought that once the battle was over, this human hell would vanish as well. Who would have imagined that the tragedy would continue? To kill in war was sometimes unavoidable, but to butcher the wounded was unforgivable. With a modern person’s understanding of war, he could not bear the sight and was about to order the killing stopped.

Qingyun understood what he was thinking. Tugging at his sleeve, she shook her head to tell him not to meddle. In that era, cleaning the battlefield and slaughtering the wounded was standard practice, on both sides. If the Later Yan army had captured Pingcheng, they would surely already be sacking the city.

At the thought of the massacre the Later Yan forces had carried out at Chen Family Fort, He Yu abandoned his earlier impulse. In truth, if one looked at it rationally, Pingcheng had been badly weakened by this great battle; its grain stores and provisions were not abundant to begin with. Even to feed themselves was tight. How could they possibly spare supplies for enemy wounded? Saving one wounded man meant one more mouth to feed, and with their own rations already insufficient, how could they possibly also tend to the enemy’s food and drink? Such foolishness had no place in ancient times. Moreover, in the age of cold steel, once injured, even if one was saved at the time, the wound could still become infected, and in the end death would come in agony all the same.

He sighed and went down from the tower with Qingyun side by side, heading toward the main tent. Along the way, the sounds of wounded soldiers crying out in pain rose one after another. He Yu thought to himself, The sun is scorching hot. We must find a way to prevent the wounded from becoming infected.

Cui Liang, Tuoba Yan, and the others had already arrived at the main tent. Though they were all stained with blood, and Yuan Hui even had an arrow wound on his shoulder, every face shone with the joy of victory. Murong Lin had suffered a crushing defeat and lost his last reserves; he no longer had the strength to launch another offensive. Pingcheng could at last sleep soundly.

“Ha, Sect Master He, you’re back at last! If you had delayed any longer, His Highness was about to send men to look for you,” Yuan Hui said briskly, voicing Tuoba Yan’s concern.

Tuoba Yan smiled faintly. “In the midst of the melee, I heard Sect Master He shout that Murong Lin had already been slain, and then there was no more sound. I was truly worried for your safety, Sect Master. Since you have returned unharmed, it is cause for celebration.”

Cui Liang stroked his beard and laughed. “Nephew Yuzhi’s cry just now was the perfect stroke of light force overcoming great weight. In one move, he crushed the Yan dogs’ spirit. Only I wonder—was it true that Murong Lin was beheaded?”

He Yu saw that everyone was speaking over one another, each tone full of concern. So he recounted in detail how, while charging toward the watchtower with Qingyun, they had run straight into Murong Lin, exchanged a round of blows, and then watched Qingyun’s arrow strike Murong Lin in the face.

The others cried out in delight. Though Murong Lin had not been killed, he was now grievously wounded, and it was impossible for him to stir up any great waves. From this point on, Pingcheng could truly rest easy.

Qingyun raised the cleaving blade in her hand for all to see.

Liu Yi took the treasured sword and immediately felt a chill rushing at him. The green-glimmering blade emitted a faint, eerie light, and the deer-head ring at the hilt possessed a strange beauty of its own. It was impossible to tell what metal it had been forged from.

Cui Liang took the blade and examined it carefully. Envy showed on his face as he praised it again and again. Then, as if remembering something, he turned to Tuoba Yan and asked, “Your Highness, this Deer-Cleaving Blade is the revered heirloom of your Xianbei people. I have heard it conceals some tremendous secret. Might Your Highness know what that secret is?”

Tuoba Yan took the blade and felt it over for a moment before saying, “I have heard since childhood that a secret lies hidden within it. As for what that secret is, no one knows. Some say it contains the bones of the ancients; others say it hides a treasure. This blade has passed through many hands, yet no one has ever fathomed the mystery within, and so later generations came to regard it as nothing more than a fine sword.”

So there truly was such a hidden tale behind the Deer-Cleaving Blade. It was rather like the Dragon-Slaying Saber from one of Jin Yong’s novels. The Dragon-Slaying Saber was enormous, and the treasure it concealed lay within the blade itself. This Deer-Cleaving Blade, by contrast, had a narrow body and a edge thin as paper; there was nowhere to hide anything. Since it was a family heirloom of the Xianbei people, it ought properly to be offered to Tuoba Yan.

He exchanged a glance with Qingyun, and she understood at once. Smiling, she said, “Since it is an ancestral treasure of Your Highness’s clan, I shall borrow someone else’s flower to present my own gift and offer this blade to Your Highness.”

Tuoba Yan was taken aback, then smiled and shook her head. “Though it is said to be a clan treasure, no one has ever seen it. Since you won it from Murong Lin, madam, you should keep it for your own use.”

She did not think there was any extraordinary secret to the Deer-Cleaving Blade. As for a hidden treasure, she was the great princess of the Northern Wei; such things held no charm for her at all.

As a princess, to ask for a treasure sword without cause would make her seem greedy. Moreover, there was a faint, unnameable feeling in her heart: she did not wish to accept even the slightest favor from Qingyun. If it were He Yu offering her the sword, she would certainly have accepted it gladly.

Since Tuoba Yan refused, Qingyun did not press the matter now that the gesture had been made. Besides, she was very fond of the blade herself; if Tuoba Yan did not want it, then it would serve perfectly as her own means of self-defense.

Murong Lin returned in defeat, having suffered enormous losses, and the cloud hanging over the day scattered at once. Tuoba Yan issued orders to reward the soldiers, and at the same time had banquets and music arranged in the central command tent to celebrate the victory.

With the danger gone and everyone’s nerves relaxed, the feast that day was unlike the others. All ate and drank freely, and it continued until nightfall before everyone dispersed in high spirits.

He Yu and Qingyun returned to their quarters, washed up separately, and went to bed. That day the two of them had fought with their lives on the line, and they were utterly exhausted; the moment their heads touched the pillows, they fell into deep sleep.

Just as they were sleeping soundly, they heard the clash of weapons from the direction of Tuoba Yan’s sleeping quarters. A guard shouted at the top of his lungs, “Someone, catch the assassin! Catch the assassin!” Then came hurried footsteps, among which were strangely mixed three or four extremely peculiar bird calls.

The two of them sprang up at once, dressed quickly, picked up their weapons, and rushed toward Tuoba Yan’s chambers.

He Yu thought to himself, Could Murong Lin be making a desperate last stand and have sent assassins? Impossible. Not only are Pingcheng’s walls high and massive, but during this war the guards are tightly posted. Let alone an ordinary man, even Murong Lin himself could not get near Tuoba Yan’s sleeping quarters.

At that moment Qingyun said, “Brother He, listen. There seems to be the cry of birds, like those mountain creatures we met when we came to Pingcheng.”

With her reminder, He Yu instantly remembered the strange bird they had encountered in the mountains back then, as large as a calf, capable of killing a fierce tiger in an instant and nearly taking both their lives.

“That’s right. It’s that strange bird.”

“Later, don’t make a move. I will be careful.”

Tuoba Yan’s chambers were not far away, and a brief run brought them to the gate.

The area was brilliantly lit. Countless armored personal guards surrounded the entrance in a tight ring. A handsome youth of seventeen or eighteen, dressed in black, emerged slowly from the chambers, holding a sword in one hand and gripping Tuoba Yan’s throat with the other. Tuoba Yan had clearly been subdued; her long hair hung loose and covered her face. Even stranger, behind the youth crouched two enormous, uncanny birds, neither eagle nor hawk, each with a hard horn growing from its head.

These two birds were massive and heavy. Though they could not fly high, they could glide. The guards around Tuoba Yan were indeed tight and vigilant, but they could not stop the youth from riding these birds in from the sky to strike. It was strikingly like an airborne assault of later ages.

This youth was graceful and elegant, with an air of lofty pride on his face. He stood as if deep and immovable as a mountain, and there was faintly a bearing of noble lineage about him. Truly strange, truly strange.

He Yu gripped his sword, stepped out from the crowd, and stood before the youth. With a bow, he asked, “Who are you, sir? Were you sent by Murong Lin?”

The youth gave a contemptuous smile. “You are not worthy to ask my name. What sort of thing is Murong Lin that he should command me?”

Though his tone was wildly arrogant, there was no fondness for Murong Lin in his words. That at least proved he had not been sent by Murong Lin, which made matters much easier. At the very least, things could not grow any worse.

By then Cui Liang and the others had also rushed over after hearing the news. At the sight of this bizarre scene, they looked at one another in bewilderment, too shocked to speak. They were all scions of great families, well traveled and widely informed, yet none of them knew where this youth had come from—especially those two strange birds behind him, which none had ever seen before.

He Yu frowned, intending to draw the youth’s attention away so that he would not be driven by murderous intent to kill Tuoba Yan on the spot. He took two steps forward and pressed, “Since you refuse to give your name, then surely kidnapping a helpless woman is hardly the deed of a true man.”

Ha!

Ha!

The black-clad youth suddenly burst into loud laughter. “A true man? A true man? You speak to me of a true man? Your Tuoba clan repaid kindness with treachery, launched a shameless surprise attack, and brought ruin to my whole family. And you still talk to me of a true man? Ridiculous! Ridiculous!”

In his laughter there was grief and fury, and his emotions were clearly in turmoil.

This was exactly the opening He Yu had been waiting for. His right hand flicked upward, and his sword was already thrusting out straight for the youth’s throat. The youth froze for an instant, then shifted swiftly aside. He Yu’s sword point quivered slightly and at once changed direction, going instead for the youth’s right hand.

The King of Qin’s Nine Swords were fierce and swift, the angles of the sword strikes sharp, bizarre, and unpredictable.