Chapter Four: The Jungle

"Shoot him!"

A low growl came from beneath the helmet, muffled as it bounced between layers of iron plates and oxhide. The pair of eyes exposed to the outside blazed with such fury they seemed to spit fire, revealing the depth of the man's rage.

Immediately, the two men in long robes behind him drew their wooden bows from behind their horses. Two feathered arrows shot out almost simultaneously, both burying themselves in the trunks of the mountain trees; their target had already vanished swiftly into the forest.

"Gesan, stay here. Gondosongbu, follow me. We must find him."

Danangqi led this small band of Tibetan cavalry. His official title was "Zuben," akin to the rank of squad leader among the Tang, and the four men under him formed a five-man unit called a "Zu," the smallest unit in the Tibetan army. It comprised two heavily armored cavalrymen leading three light cavalrymen, adaptable for both mounted and foot combat. The one who had just died was his deputy, known as "Oben."

At his command, one of the bowmen remained, while the other dismounted and followed him, tracking their quarry’s flight into the woods. In the dense forest, a spear was unwieldy. Instead, they carried only a round rattan shield and a long knife at their waist, leaving all horses and equipment behind.

The mountainside here was steep—nearly forty degrees—and covered mostly in native snow cedars. Due to the high-altitude climate, few grew taller than five meters, and with their narrow crowns, the trees stood sparsely, allowing sunlight to bathe the forest so it was not at all dark.

Liu Ji ran in a crouch, sprinting at first but quickly switching to a steady pace once he was out of arrow range. The average elevation here was over four thousand meters, and the higher he climbed, the thinner the air became. Any respiratory ailment could trigger pulmonary edema. Unlike modern times, where targeted training existed, his new body was not yet accustomed to the plateau’s effects.

Breathing in the crisp scent of grass and trees, he felt vitality surging within him, his control over this new body growing stronger by the minute. It was as if the recent act of killing had left his heart untouched.

In his previous life, China had been a nation that advocated peace. Since the late seventies, there had been no wars, but that did not mean Chinese soldiers had never killed. Along the borders where he had served, drug traffickers, thieves, and trespassers were commonplace. He had fired his weapon and taken lives. Later, when he transferred to intelligence work, it was far less thrilling than the movies made it seem.

Life and death had hung in the balance a moment ago. Any hint of hesitation, and perhaps he would have awakened in another era. He did not cling to this time for any particular reason—he’d only been here three days—but curiosity was only natural, and he was no exception.

Besides, for any Chinese person, the Han and Tang dynasties were ages to take pride in. He yearned to see the legendary cities and historical figures with his own eyes.

But first, he had to survive.

Liu Ji’s pace slowed until finally he stopped beside a tree, sat down, and sipped the thin air in measured breaths, hoping to recover his strength as quickly as possible to cope with whatever might come.

Aside from rest, another question lingered in his mind. The actions of these Tibetans were highly suspicious. Their appearance did not match that of mere mountain bandits, and even if they were, there was no reason for such indiscriminate killing. Perhaps the gold coins were a motive, but Liu Ji sensed there was more to it—his instincts told him so, even if he could not explain why.

Their timing was too perfect. Had he not insisted on staying behind, they would likely have continued shadowing the group. Liu Ji felt that his actions had perhaps changed something.

But what?

The enemy would not grant him much time to ponder. Before he had even caught his breath, a faint rustling reached his ears from within the forest. His hearing had not fully recovered to its former acuity, but he could still tell that someone was closing in.

In the cold mountain environment, the decay of leaves was slow. A thick carpet of dry foliage covered the forest floor, and every footstep would rustle audibly. Listening carefully, Liu Ji judged that there were no more than two pursuers, which set his mind at ease.

There had been five enemies; two were already dead. The remaining three would be no harder to deal with, especially now that horses were useless in the woods and heavy armor hampered movement. His disadvantage had lessened considerably.

Yet he was not without peril. Time had been too short for him to retrieve weapons from the dead, so he had only a short knife in hand. The situation reminded him of the survival training he'd undergone in the wild.

This time, though, his adversaries were not just the elements, but living men as well.

Quickly, Liu Ji stood, used his knife to strip a long piece of bark from a tree, and, unable to twist it into a rope, simply tied it between two trunks at about five centimeters above the ground. Then, a few trees away, he set a second tripwire, and by the time the enemy’s figures appeared, he’d set three in all. Concealed behind a tree, he watched the distance.

Gondosongbu was a skilled hunter in his tribe, a master of tracking—the reason Danangqi dared to pursue with only him as backup. The two advanced, Danangqi in his heavy armor leading, guided steadily by his companion’s whispered pointers. Step by step, they drew near Liu Ji’s position.

They moved cautiously, pausing often until Gondosongbu confirmed the trail. The marks were too fresh to be covered, and even Danangqi began to sense they were close. Indeed, they were nearing their prey.

"That Tang man is just ahead," Gondosongbu said, squatting as he sniffed a leaf with certainty.

They were almost at the first tripwire. If they continued at this pace, the crude traps would hardly fool an expert for long. Suddenly, Liu Ji sprang from behind the tree, deliberately exposing himself as if in a panic, stumbling blindly deeper into the forest.

"There he is. Circle around," Danangqi ordered, pointing his long knife for Gondosongbu to flank him. Without waiting for his man to move far, he increased his speed.

The enemy was just ahead, about a hundred paces away. Clad in full armor, Danangqi ran with surprising agility, eyes fixed on the fleeing figure. The Tang man was clearly inexperienced—at this altitude, he was already winded from so little exertion. Danangqi would not let him escape.

The distance closed rapidly. A trace of blood drifted on the air; Danangqi had already decided he would slit the Tang man’s throat, just as he had his own deputy’s.

Suddenly, his sturdy leather boots caught on something. He felt as if an iron grip had seized his feet. His massive frame lost balance and he was hurled forward.