“(The reinforcement hosts from the other tribes have also declared their intent to retreat?!)”
“(Retreat…! Their homelands being invaded is one thing, but this is—!)”
“(Is it because the Ugurai tribe moved first? Are they simply using that as an excuse to stop looking over their shoulders?!)”
“(What of the Third Young Master’s host?! Where are they?!)”
“(They haven’t moved a single horse…!)”
“(Don’t tell me… has the news reached them as well?!)”
A chorus of lamentations and frantic whispers filled the Dread King’s command center as the decision for a total withdrawal of reinforcements rippled through the ranks. Faced with this cascading wall of disaster, even the Dread King Yelü Nuzhucha could not hide the deathly pallor washing over his face.
However, amidst the storm of panic, there was one individual whose expression remained as cold and static as a frozen lake.
“(—)”
The Deputy Commander of the Ugurai tribe spared the command tent one final, fleeting glance before quietly stepping out into the crisp air. Not a single ripple of agitation disturbed his features. It was only natural; after all, the catastrophic chain of events currently unfolding was a storm born of the Ugurai tribe’s own hands.
“(Deputy Commander…!)” his subordinates, who had been waiting on their mounts outside the pavilion, called out as they saw him. “(Is the business concluded?)”
“(It is.)”
To a man, every rider in the small detachment had their hands wrapped in faded red cloths, their weapons gripped firmly in their bound palms. The Deputy Commander remained stoic as he accepted the reins of his horse and hauled himself into the saddle.
The adjutant beside him opened his mouth to ask about the future of the war, but he quickly clamped it shut. Even with mental transmissions, asking such a reckless question in the dead center of the Dread King’s camp was the height of folly.
“(Deputy Commander.)” Another subordinate, who had been standing in his stirrups to scan the horizon, sat back down and switched to a hushed mental transmission. [(We should extract ourselves as quickly as possible. The news is spreading like wildfire; the Dread King’s lines are fracturing at a terrifying pace.)]
The adjutant’s eyes narrowed as he listened. [(If the rumor that the reinforcements have officially turned back reaches the front, it will be the end of everything. The collapse will be unstoppable.)]
“(Understood,)” the Deputy Commander replied, his decision final. “(We extract from the battlefield immediately. Full speed.)”
He spurred his horse into a gallop, and the Ugurai riders surged behind him like a shadow.
“(This way…!)” The lead scouts, who had already scouted a path of escape, began to guide him through the roiling chaos.
Their window of safety, however, proved to be narrow.
“(Combat ahead…!)”
“(AAARGH!)” “(Don’t push! Move out of the way!)” “(Tenger, save us…!)”
The Grand Young Master’s main host was tearing through the Dread King’s legion with a ferocity that suggested they could see directly into the enemy’s heart in real-time. They were methodically dismantling the formation from both the inside and out. In the face of such a brutal melee, the Ugurai’s pre-planned extraction route became useless in heartbeats.
Then, the air itself seemed to scream.
“(Brace for impact…!)”
“Hmph…!”
CRA-BOOM!
Through a roiling shroud of dust, an old man appeared. With a single, monstrous strike, he had reduced dozens of the Dread King’s warriors to bloody fragments.
“(Is this all you’ve got?!)” the old warrior thundered, his voice piercing through the din as he mocked his foes. “(Your god Tenger must be weeping in the heavens!)”
Despite his accented and somewhat clumsy Northern pronunciation, the power of the old master in the Luoyang Yeon Clan’s martial robes was undeniable. Every swing of his blade shattered the line, sending bodies and broken steel flying like chaff in a storm.
“(Deputy Commander!)” the lead Ugurai rider shrieked. “(At this rate, we’re going to collide head-on with the Grand Young Master’s experts!)”
The Diancang Sect had appeared directly in the Ugurai’s path, their blades dripping with the blood of the Dread King’s legion as they blocked the way forward. Even as his men recoiled in terror, the Deputy Commander did not hesitate.
“(Do not slow down!)” he bellowed, digging his spurs in to push his mount to its limit. “(We’re going straight through!)”
He hoisted his right arm high, showing the blade that was still bound to his hand by the red cloth.
“(Are you… are you going to attack?!)” the adjutant screamed, his horse struggling to keep pace.
“(No!)” the Deputy Commander shouted back.
The adjutant switched to a frantic mental transmission. [(Do they know?! Do those Diancang bastards know about the secret pact between us and the Grand Young Master?!)]
“(Hell if I know!)” the Deputy Commander answered aloud.
The reckless response forced a shriek from the adjutant. “(Then what the fuck are you doing?!)”
[(The pact doesn’t matter right now!)] the Deputy Commander replied, his voice dropping into a focused, low mental transmission as he lowered his center and raised his sword even higher. [(The pact didn’t include a mutual non-aggression clause anyway!)]
“(—?!)”
Clang!
The Diancang warriors leveled their blades as they spotted the approaching cavalry.
“(Impact in three… two…!)” the lead rider screamed.
But then, a command rang out from the heart of the Diancang formation.
“Let them pass.”
“…?!”
The order came from the former Sect Leader of Diancang himself. “Pull back! Make way!”
Though their eyes burned with confusion and suspicion, the Diancang disciples obeyed instantly, stepping aside to clear a path for the Ugurai detachment.
***
The riders thundered through the gap, the distance between them and the Diancang blades so narrow that a single extended arm could have ended a life. That handful of seconds felt like an eternity of held breath.
“(We’re… we’re through…!)”
Once the final rider had cleared the Diancang strike zone, the Deputy Commander risked a glance over his shoulder. His eyes locked with those of the former Sect Leader of Diancang.
The old master didn’t say a word. He simply mouthed a single sentence: “Count yourself lucky.”
Then, the former leader raised his free hand and pointed toward the high ridges above the canyon. Instinctively, the Deputy Commander followed the gesture.
“(—!)”
Far in the distance, silhouetted against the sky atop a towering cliff, a dark figure stood watching the carnage below. As the Ugurai riders fled, the figure slowly, deliberately raised a hand and waved—a casual gesture of farewell.
Ordinarily, it would have been a sign of familiarity or even friendship. But to the Deputy Commander, it felt as though an ‘Evil God’ from the world beyond was beckoning to him. A violent chill raced across his skin.
***
Clop, clop.
Having finally escaped the immediate chaos of the battlefield, the detachment slowed their mounts to let the exhausted beasts catch their breath.
Crunch. Munch.
Some of the riders drank from leather waterskins and pulled pieces of jerky from their pouches, chewing methodically to restore their strength.
“(Deputy Commander,)” the adjutant said, tearing into a piece of meat. “(We appear to have made a clean extraction.)”
Despite the report, the Deputy Commander didn’t order a halt. “(Continue the march. We’re going to put as much distance between us and that place as possible.)”
It was a grueling order for tired men, yet no one—not even the adjutant—protested. They all nodded in grim agreement. The image of the Grand Young Master’s subordinates tearing the Dread King’s army to shreds was still etched into their minds with terrifying clarity.
Crunch. Munch.
The adjutant chewed his rations for a moment before a sudden thought struck him. “(Deputy Commander… how did he do it? How did he spread those rumors through the Dread King’s ranks in the middle of a battle?)”
“(—)”
The Deputy Commander remained silent for a long moment before answering. “(I don’t know. And truthfully…)” He urged his horse to pick up the pace. “(…I have no desire to find out.)”
The adjutant nodded, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “(I suppose you’re right.)”
“(Looking at how the situation is unfolding…)” the Deputy Commander added, glancing back at the empty horizon. Even though the battlefield was miles behind them, he felt as if the figure on the cliff was still watching his every move. “(…our tribe’s decision to avoid a conflict with that man was the greatest stroke of luck we’ve ever had.)”
“(I agree. But… do you think the man on the cliff was truly…?)” He was referring to the figure who had waved at them.
“(I didn’t see his face clearly,)” the Deputy Commander replied.
He didn’t mention whether he couldn’t see it or simply didn’t want to look. But the adjutant had felt the same instinctive dread, and he didn’t press for a more definitive answer.
“(Regardless…)” the Deputy Commander said, his voice a low whisper. “(He is…)”
“(—)”
The adjutant leaned in, his voice barely audible even to the riders beside him. “(He was a demon. No…)” He corrected himself. “(…He was an Evil God in human skin.)”
The entire detachment fell silent. Every man among them remembered that night months ago—a moonless, suffocatingly dark night when Yeon So-hyeon had appeared like a ghost in the heart of their tribal camp. They remembered the proposal he had made—one the Ugurai tribe found impossible to refuse.
“(But… how?)” one rider muttered to himself, his voice shaking. “(How did he know about the connection between our tribe and that traitor who called himself Dong Gahyu? And even if he knew… how did he suddenly appear in our camp when he was supposed to be in Luoyang?)”
The questions were endless, and no answers came.
“(How did he know that our declaration of retreat, at that exact second, would be the hammer that shattered the Dread King’s spirit? I mean… seriously.)” The rider looked at his commander with a face of pure, pale terror. “(Is he even human?)”
No one answered. They couldn’t.
Whoosh—
Only the wind sweeping across the Great Plains whispered back to them in a language they couldn’t decipher.
“(It doesn’t matter,)” the Deputy Commander finally said, closing his eyes as he felt the breeze. “(Demon, devil, or god… it matters not.)”
He slowly opened his eyes and raised his right hand, still bound by the red cloth. “(Because with this…)”
Shshsh…
He began to untie the cloth, murmuring to himself as the fabric fell away. “(…all our promises and oaths have been fulfilled.)”
His right hand, which had been bound for so long, was swollen and stiff, but his voice was saturated with a profound, soul-deep emotion. “(At last… our long-standing grudge has been settled.)”
One by one, the other riders began to untie the faded red cloths from their own hands. There was only one reason they were releasing the oath-banners: according to the promise made on that moonless night, the Grand Young Master had delivered Dong Gahyu—the traitor Arukutai—into their hands.
In return, the Ugurai tribe, who valued honor above all else, had performed their part of the pact by withdrawing their reinforcements and declaring it in the Dread King’s command center. The debt was paid.
The Deputy Commander extended his freed hand. The adjutant smiled and placed a fresh piece of dried meat in his palm.
“(How can we not rejoice?)” the adjutant said with a rare laugh as they rode. “(To chew on the ‘meat of our enemy’ on the way home, knowing every oath and mission is complete.)”
The Deputy Commander nodded in agreement and began to chew.
Crunch. Munch.
“(It’s sweet,)” he noted, his eyes narrowing. “(Incredibly sweet.)”
For the first time in a very long time, he felt as though he would be able to sleep soundly on the journey home.
***
The Alliance Camp of the Third Young Master.
“…The tides of battle have shifted violently.”
“I have eyes. I can see that for myself,” Grand Strategist Sima replied, his voice dripping with irritation.
A senior strategist let out a heavy, ragged sigh. “Grand Strategist Sima… reports are flooding in. The Dread King’s reinforcements are wheeling their hosts around and retreating, one by one.”
He looked at the old man, who had been sitting in a state of brooding silence for quite some time. “What are your orders, sir?”
Sima remained silent, his eyes closed in deep, agonizing thought. Finally, his parched lips moved.
“I…”