Chapter Twenty-Two: Whither to Go

In the military, the position of Inspector was responsible for discipline, law, and intelligence gathering; only those of unwavering integrity and fortitude could be entrusted with such duties.

Duan Xiushi, now thirty-three years old, was precisely such a man. From the moment his name first appeared in the annals of history, it was never for feats of martial prowess.

Before him, on the great desk at the center of his tent, several towering stacks of documents rose a few feet high. Four smaller tables on either side were similarly piled with paperwork. Several clerks sat at work, heads bent diligently over their writing, so absorbed that they remained motionless even as someone entered.

It was only Duan Xiushi himself who slowly laid down his brush and raised his head from the documents, casting a measured gaze upon the young man standing in his tent.

One glance was enough for him to sense something unusual. The youth before him—Liu Wulang—who had departed but ten days prior, had returned transformed. The once brash, irrepressible lad, whose very eyes seemed to dart toward the heavens, now stood composed and steady, as if he had become an entirely different person.

Duan Xiushi’s interest was immediately piqued.

At that moment, Liu Ji was still reeling from his own shock. He had at last learned his own name, and it was no different from the one he carried in later generations—a lifeline in utter despair. He had thought all was lost, yet fate had left him this single thread of hope.

For this name alone, he could not so easily abandon his life. It was, after all, the sole thing his family from another time had left to him.

“Subordinate greets the Inspector. This time, I was ordered to cross into enemy territory and have ascertained the true situation of the Tubo forces. Matters may not be as we anticipated—they…”

Before Liu Ji could finish, Duan Xiushi waved his hand, cutting him off. “Enough of that. Tell me, did you truly kill Danangqi?”

That question again. Liu Ji felt a headache beginning. Since his arrival in this world, he had met with four people, three of whom had questioned him about the very same thing. The fourth, he surmised, had been dragged off before he could ask.

Was this Danangqi so renowned? Liu Ji wanted to ask, but stopped himself and simply nodded. “Yes.”

“By rights, with the official report and Yang Yu’s testimony, the credit for this feat is yours. To behead five of the enemy, including a famed warrior, and to do so in battle—such merit would typically ea