Chapter 2#

Peach Blossom Spring#

Cha Que and Bald Pate exchanged glances. He didn’t find it difficult — whether it was a human tongue or a sheep’s tongue made no difference to him. He knew what Bald Pate was after: to make someone compliant, you had to instill fear first. So he reached out his hand without the slightest hesitation.

Just as his fingers were about to touch the cloth, Bald Pate — Yuchi Liang — pulled it away. He laughed, a guttural ho-ho sound rumbling in his throat, as if toying with a toy. “That Mei Zhengzhou actually had some sense. He didn’t stuff me with nothing but useless fat and dregs. Where’s your home in Tianxing Pass?”

“In Lu’an County, in Mahe River Valley, west of Tianxing Pass,” Cha Que said. “Two li north of the Earth God Temple in the southern part of the county — that’s my home.”

He answered fluently, as he should have, because their group had been stopped and checked countless times on the road. This background was easy enough — he didn’t have to recite a genealogy half a man high like those pretending to be sons of powerful clans.

If Yuchi Liang had gone further and asked about Cha Que’s parents, brothers, sisters, or relatives, he would have given the same answer — dead. Yes, dead. Tianxing Pass had been ravaged by war time and again. Whether you hailed from Mahe River Valley or Niuhe River Valley, everything had been trampled flat. Outside the walls, bones lined the roads. Right now, if he wanted to pick anyone at random to claim as his kinsmen, he could.

But Yuchi Liang didn’t ask. He already had their roster in hand, which recorded their household registrations and origins in detail. Asking was merely a screening method.

“Go over there and stand by,” Yuchi Liang pointed somewhere nearby. “I’ll address you again later.”

Cha Que changed positions. Yuchi Liang called forward thirty-odd more people, asking each their name and where they lived. Anyone who answered truthfully could go stand with Cha Que. That tongue, like some lucky talisman, remained in Yuchi Liang’s hand the whole time. The others wavered between hope and dread, none of them able to figure out his selection criteria. This continued to the end of the line, where twenty-odd men still remained uninspected.

“Since you’ve come from Tianxing Prefecture, the moment you saw this bald head of mine, you should already know who I am.” Yuchi Liang slowed his pace, his shaven head conspicuous among the ranks. “I am a Kuntu man. Before, outside the Pass, I was a minor tribal commander among the Kuntu, serving under True Kehan of the Huoba clan.”

He stopped, his face showing not a trace of shame.

“In the fourth year of the Tian Shou era, the Sovereign, in his supreme wisdom and decisiveness, appointed Miluo as the Grand General of the Eastern Campaign and drove us to the foot of Mount Dachi.”

This battle was known to everyone.

The Kuntu people had no land of their own. They lived outside the Pass year-round, forming alliances of large and small tribes, making their living by raiding border garrison towns. After Miluo defeated them, he incorporated them into the Four Garrisons and Nine Provinces under his administration. The most valiant and battle-hardened of their tribes were broken up and reorganized into the Imperial Guards. Shaving the head was the emblem of Kuntu surrendered generals.

In the Eastern Plain today, regardless of ethnicity or surname, any man who surrendered and became another’s general would have his hair cut short and tattoos inscribed on his body as a mark of shame. If someone were to roll up Yuchi Liang’s sleeve, they could see the characters “Slave of the Mi Clan” tattooed on his right forearm. Moreover, anyone forcibly conscripted into the army would also have their lord’s family crest tattooed on their body.

When this group of Kuntu surrendered generals entered the Imperial Guards, their conduct was vastly different from the soldiers of the Mi Clan’s own main forces. They were stationed year-round in the old capital, the city of Senluo, and could not leave without imperial orders. Thus they came to be called “Ghosts of Senluo.” After Miluo’s defection, “Ghosts of Senluo” gradually became the common designation for the Imperial Guards as a whole.

“I’m not afraid you’ll laugh at me. When Miluo’s spirit was unbroken, he was one of the greatest generals under heaven. Back then, the mere mention of his name — never mind the man himself — would make the warhorses under one’s legs tremble three times. It’s a pity he let a woman bewitch him. He had a good life but wouldn’t live it, and had to ruin himself like this.” Yuchi Liang laughed at himself bitterly. “When Miluo besieged me at Mount Dachi, the rain was just as heavy as tonight. A full month, supplies exhausted. I was so hungry I had no choice but to kill my own horses. But how could horses be enough?”

His voice dropped low. He would never forget that memory. Those were horses he had raised from foals. Together they had galloped across the lands outside the Pass, and even when they encountered the Golden Crow Cavalry, they always had room to maneuver. But Miluo had swept them away in the most merciless way.

“After the horses, we ate grass roots. After the grass roots, we ate leather. In the end, we ate everything. Every man’s eyes were bloodshot and raw from sleeplessness. During those nights I prayed to the gods of the Youman tribe all night: ‘Send us a flood’ — anything to save us…” Yuchi Liang’s features shifted, a cruel look crossing his face. “The gods pointed out a path for us, so we began to eat human flesh.”

There was no thunder in the drizzle, but his words struck like a bolt of lightning all the same.

“At first we couldn’t swallow it, because we kept coming upon familiar faces. But after a while it was fine. Anyone — if they had breathed their last, or even if they hadn’t quite yet — everyone was fighting for a piece.” Yuchi Liang looked at the tongue and raised it slightly. “Is this morsel troubling you so? Once a person is dead, there is no difference between them and the wild dogs or maggots out there.”

No one answered, and he didn’t expect them to answer. This tongue was merely an instrument of the ceremony. The point was to make them understand that everyone standing here lived or died at the whim of a single thought from him.

Cha Que knew it wasn’t over yet. The tongue hadn’t been forced on him just now because its purpose hadn’t been fulfilled. Words alone could only inspire so much fear. Now came the real whip.

Yuchi Liang said, “Of the remaining twenty-four, I need only one. Whoever eats this tongue gets the last spot.”

The remaining soldiers exchanged stunned glances. Some stepped backward, choosing to give up. If they couldn’t make it into the Ghosts of Senluo, they could always return to Tianxing Prefecture. This trip was a bitter assignment to begin with —

Cha Que smelled the damp scent of rust. And with it came blood. It sprayed from the front, splattering across his chest!

Senluo Ghosts were everywhere — inside, outside, and archers atop the ramparts. The ones who fell were instantly soaked red in the mud puddles. Every one of the survivors screamed. They scattered in all directions, but the outer perimeter was also manned by Senluo Ghosts — the moment they collided with one, a blade struck them head-on.

Those who hadn’t been selected instantly lost their composure. The ranks collapsed. Like rats drowning in water, weeping and begging, they crawled toward Cha Que’s side.

“I’ll say it once more,” Yuchi Liang tossed the tongue into their midst. “I only need one!”

They lunged all at once. The moment they touched each other, a frenzy of wrestling erupted. Blood sprayed in all directions. Limbs entangled. They bit and tore at each other indiscriminately.

Someone threw up.

Throwing up was the most pathetic thing you could do. Cha Que watched it absentmindedly. Vomiting meant you’d been frightened — the first sign of a will crumbling. That Bald Pate — Cha Que didn’t care what his name was — every trick he used was third-rate.

But it was fine. These people of theirs were never going to make it into the Ghosts of Senluo anyway. Miluo had defected nearly twenty years ago — what kind of skilled fighter would the Ghosts of Senluo be unable to recruit? A formation like the Imperial Guards would never let a hastily assembled group of border garrison soldiers waltz in at their leisure. That was why their leather armor was so worn and tattered — so that after it had served its purpose, it could be thrown away along with the men wearing it.

The tongue slipped out and fell several times, only to be stuffed back into someone’s mouth. Those nearby instantly pressed in, trying to pry open the jaws. They were like madmen. In the end, the one who seized it was a young man. He ignored the shoving and pummeling, chewing and swallowing greedily. Even beaten to a bloody pulp, he refused to spit it out.

“Uuuugh —”

More and more people around Cha Que began to retch. This was not a good sign, because Yuchi Liang would not want a cowardly company to accompany him tonight.

“Good!” Yuchi Liang hauled the young man up. “You’re fine material. You’re meant to follow me!”

The young man’s face was covered in blood, washed by the rain. For a long moment he couldn’t speak.

“Tidy this place up later. I don’t want to see bloodstains when daybreak comes.” Yuchi Liang kicked away a reaching hand, then pointed toward Cha Que’s position, pivoting to a new subject. “And those useless fillers — clear them out too!”

The ones still bent double from retching hadn’t straightened their backs before Senluo Ghosts descended on them, hacking them down. Blood flew wild, splashing onto Cha Que’s back and face. By the time the rain-soaked quiet returned, only a dozen or so men were still standing — men who had neither moved nor retched.

“Don’t blame me for being cold, gentlemen. Tonight’s duty is critical, and I can’t let this rabble of cowards and trash slip in.” Yuchi Liang took his helmet from his adjutant[1]. “Who would have thought a single piece of rotten meat could cause such a scene. Alright, I won’t waste any more time. Someone — distribute the tally tokens.”

The corpses covering the ground were dragged away. Yuchi Liang put on his helmet, adjusted his saber, and continued, “These tokens are your pass in and out of the palace. If you lose them and someone seizes you, don’t come crying to me — that’s your own carelessness. The Ghosts of Senluo have plenty of rules. Once tonight’s duty is done, someone will come explain them all to you.”

Cha Que received the token. It was made of bronze, square in shape, less than half his palm in size. One side bore a tiger-trussing pattern; the other was inscribed with the military designation, with a serial number beneath — but the space for a name was blank.

With no name, no one knew who carried the token. It could be recovered after use.

“Our duty this time is simple: protect the Crown Prince. This City of Ayou was only retaken three days ago. Some remnants of the rebel faction are still on the loose. The Crown Prince…” Yuchi Liang paused for a moment, his face shadowed beneath the helmet, his expression unreadable to all. “What people out there say about him, I don’t know. All I know is that the Sovereign has not yet stripped him of his dragon-head jade pendants[2], which makes him the Crown Prince still — the Crown Prince of the City of Ayou.”

Cha Que found this unsurprising. The world was in chaos now. This Mi Jin — was that his name? It didn’t matter whose crown prince he was.

Yuchi Liang didn’t dawdle either. The moment the headcount was done, he led them into the palace.

The City of Ayou had once been one of the prosperous cities of Great Zhen. In the sixth year of the An Ding era, Milinan had led an uprising of the Four Garrisons, and the world plunged into turmoil. Great Zhen fractured into pieces, losing not only the Four Garrisons and Nine Provinces but also the Moon Sea Grasslands.

The Nie dynasty emperors, who had once roared like tigers across the Eastern Plain and unified all under heaven, had been reduced to puppets by this generation. And the Great Zhen Hui Long Army, once known for “swallowing the heavens, consuming the sea, invincible wherever it went,” had become a worm of weakness that all now mocked.

As the saying goes: “The ruler of all beneath heaven belongs to him whose armies are strong and his horses swift[2].” Milinan held dominion over the East, declaring himself Emperor in the twelfth year of An Ding. He had now ruled as emperor for twenty-seven years. Those in the world who did not submit to him called him “Mi the Butcher,” and some called him “the King of Slaughter.”

The King of Slaughter had three sons. The first two died in infancy. The world always said this was retribution from the gods. Then came Miluo — doted on, cherished, kept at his side from childhood. When Miluo grew a little older and fell ill, Milinan summoned every mage the Qiming Sect could provide. He had never worshipped ghosts or gods in his entire life, yet he willingly maintained those mages for Miluo’s sake.

Miluo grew up under the care of all those mages. He was bright and healthy, heroic and battle-ready. The person he revered most was his Aye[3]. In those years, Miluo fought campaigns on all sides for his father, earning glorious military achievements. After Milinan declared himself Emperor, Miluo served as Crown Prince, fulfilling the duties of regent in his stead.

In the sixth year of Tian Shou, no one knew exactly what happened. Miluo defected without warning, taking three regiments of the Imperial Guards with him. With his departure, the Four Garrisons and Nine Provinces splintered apart, and an age of civil war began.

Miluo went north, swallowing Great Zhen’s Xiangling Plain. The City of Ayou was conquered during that time. In his first year residing in the City of Ayou, he had a son. The city sat at the crossroads of the dry routes connecting all the tribes, and every day, looking out from its watchtowers, one could see caravans of all shapes and sizes streaming past in an endless procession — they mingled here like converging streams. So Miluo named his son “Jin” — ferry.

The City of Ayou was the great earth-ferry of the Xiangling Plain. Whoever moored here would enjoy the protection of Lord Ming, Miluo.

Mi Jin was born here, and here he killed his father.

In truth, the songs of the Luqi people were not sung in full. After the line “lost their minds, turned on one another,” there should have been these additional verses:

Yet the gods still showed mercy,

Sent Lord Ming to be a sage-saint.

Beneath Ayou’s walls, he ferried all beings;

On Xiangling’s plains, no strife was seen.

Peach blossoms bloom — hope for life remains;

Beyond the dust, in toil’s cruel span, a demon lord was born.

The Crown Prince Mi Jin stole the golden crown,

Beneath those very walls, he killed his king.

Blood-spray flew ten zhang across the ground,

Red rain poured down in watches three.

Who mourns the gentle lord’s kind heart,

Whose soul at last was broken in his dreamland’s dark?

The silhouette of the palace loomed before them. The rain wept so loudly. Cha Que didn’t hesitate. He stepped inside.