Chapter Thirty-Four: The Fourteen Suicidal Braves

What a stroke of bad luck. Who could have foreseen that after just a few days as a close attendant, I’d be sent off to the suicide squad again? Kaeming clutched her meager belongings and stepped down from the transport carriage yet again, surveying her surroundings with a sigh. Was this the year that misfortune hung over her head?

This garrison camp was different—far larger than the training ground, befitting the hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers quartered here. The vast parade ground teemed with clusters of men, each gathering marked by a banner bearing the name of their unit.

She had barely approached the camp gate when a guard barked, “What do you want? This is a garrison camp! Civilians, move along!”

She quickly handed over her letter of introduction. “I’m from the new recruits training camp. Reporting for duty today.”

The soldier took the letter, sizing her up. “Which unit?”

“Fourth unit, under Commander Chang Geng.”

“The suicide squad, huh!” His gaze grew sympathetic and he clucked his tongue. “Follow me.”

The sound of his tongue-clicking unsettled Kaeming. As she followed him, he called out, “Fourth unit, another new arrival!” Instantly, the seated crowds threw her glances laden with all manner of meaning. Kaeming kept her head down, unwilling to meet those stares, and hurried past.

They stopped beside a fluttering banner. “Here you are,” said her guide, before slipping away.

Kaeming finally looked up, examining the company she would now call her own. Some thirty men sat sprawled, none with a proper posture—helmets askew, roots of grass hanging from their mouths, faces impassive as they stared at her. Their skin was uniformly dark and rough, their eyes cold, as if they regarded not a living soul but a corpse.

“Greetings. Hello,” Kaeming said energetically, bowing to them. “I’m new here. Please take care of me.”

The men gave no reply, instead shifting their gaze away. Someone muttered, “Best pray for yourself.”

Kaeming felt her heart sink into an icy pit. Was this suicide squad truly meant only for death? Each man looked as though he’d just returned from a funeral.

Her own squad ignored her; Kaeming stood uncertain, unable to advance or retreat. Footsteps rustled behind her, a figure swept past, and a voice bellowed at the slack men, “Get your gear ready! Check your weapons! We’re heading out soon!”

Kaeming spun around quickly. By the banner stood a burly leader, draped in a dark green cloak, clad in white armor and silver helmet, a halberd in his hand, his back to her.

“Are you Commander Chang Geng?” she asked urgently.

He turned, revealing a brown face, thick brows, and large eyes—a youth, to her surprise. Suspicion filled his gaze. “Who are you?”

“I’m a new recruit,” Kaeming replied, presenting the letter from the Lord of Arms with both hands and bowing. “I’ve just come to report.”

“Today?” Chang Geng’s lips curled in mockery. “You chose to arrive right as the battle begins?”

She answered respectfully, “The Lord of Arms sent me here for training.”

Chang Geng didn’t even glance at the letter, snorting coldly. “Always dumping useless trash in my lap. And now, a female soldier! Get to your unit!”

She hastily obeyed, taking her place at the end of the squad. Inwardly, she wondered why Chang Geng spoke as if he’d swallowed gunpowder—hard to deal with, unlike the Lord of Arms, his polar opposite. What would happen if these two collided? Would it be a comet hitting the earth?

Lost in thought, she barely noticed the order as the squad began to march. With each leader’s shout, the first units lined up and set out, followed by the others, until it was the fourteenth unit’s turn. Chang Geng instructed a short soldier to run over and hand Kaeming a set of armor. “Put it on, and you’ll be carrying the banner.”

“Me? Carry the banner?” Kaeming was stunned. Was this really her job on the first day?

Chang Geng caught her expression and glared. “Don’t underestimate it. If the banner falls and the squad scatters, I’ll cut off your head.”

She shrank back, tongue sticking out, as if he already wielded a blade over her neck. This ancestor of hers meant what he said.

The commander rode ahead on horseback; the soldiers, weapons in hand, ran alongside, marching in grand formation towards the winding mountain path. Only then did Kaeming realize why Elder Ji had punished her with so much running—without stamina, she’d never keep up with this squad. She saw lagging soldiers lashed by their own commander, the beatings so fierce as to make one shudder.

They crossed plains and hills; by midday, blisters had formed on her feet, and her hands trembled, barely able to keep hold of the banner pole. Chang Geng spurred his warhorse, urging them on. Gritting her teeth, Kaeming pressed on—endurance was victory.

As dusk crept over the earth, they reached a small woodland, and the infantry finally halted. The commander’s order, “Rest in place!” sounded sweeter than any music. Kaeming’s strength was utterly spent; she collapsed, limp as a deflated ball. The other soldiers fared little better, groaning and sprawling, unable to move.

Chang Geng dismounted and shed his cloak, surveying his battered squad with biting sarcasm. “Useless! You eat for nothing!”

Kaeming had no strength to reply, only rubbing her chest to catch her breath. The area quieted; she heard the nearby leaders gathering and discussing, “The cavalry should have arrived before us. Why haven’t they shown up?”

“Maybe they’re on the other side of the woods. They came from a different direction.”

“Is General Dayin with the cavalry?”

“Yes, she leads five thousand riders…”

Dayin? Kaeming’s eyes snapped open. Was Dayin leading the troops this time? Truly, enemies cross paths everywhere. No matter where she went, she’d run into her adversary. She rolled over and propped herself against a tree, limbs weak, focusing on observing and listening to the sounds around her.

The quartermaster carried a wooden bucket, handing out hard bread to each person. Kaeming took hers without complaint and tore into it fiercely. One must fill the belly to fight; otherwise, the commander might take her head first. In this age, strength was everything—she recalled Elder Ji’s words, that soldiers needed to respond quickly on the battlefield.

Survival? Don’t worry, Elder Ji, dear husband Xuan—I will cherish my life. No one wants to live more than I do! She brushed the crumbs from her hands, feeling some strength return as food settled in her stomach.

“General,” came calls from every direction. Kaeming looked over and saw a young woman in armor, wearing her trademark smile, nodding to several commanders.

“Are all the infantry here?” Her voice was sweet and melodious, stirring the men of the fourteenth unit to crane their necks.

“That must be Dayin!”

“The first female general of the Central Palace—her reputation is well deserved. She’s beautiful!”

“If only I could hold her in my arms—even as ghosts, we’d be happy.”

“Watch your tongue, fool! You’ll lose your head before you get the beauty.”

“Ha ha ha…” Laughter followed, as the men joked crudely.

Kaeming couldn’t help but smile at their vulgar banter, turning her attention again to Dayin’s actions.

“We must be especially vigilant. The Southern Palace has sent Sikong to lead their troops.”

“Sikong? He’ll meet his end like the rest!” Chang Geng shouted the loudest.

Kaeming could only shake her head, amused. Young men were always so fiery.

Dayin’s gaze rested on Chang Geng. “Though your unit is called the Suicide Squad, don’t throw away your lives needlessly. Every man has family; every life is precious…”

Dayin spoke like a compassionate teacher, but Chang Geng’s impatience was obvious—he paid no heed to her words.

“Sikong’s father was a general of both intelligence and valor, once clashing with the Emperor Tianji’s forces. A tiger’s cub is no dog—a young man he may be, but his tactics will not be inferior to the old guard.”

“General, you worry too much. The Southern Palace must be out of options to send this youngster—clearly, they underestimate us. With your experience, you’ll crush them!” another commander declared.

Others quickly chimed in, “We’ll send them running!”

Kaeming shook her head again. Underestimating the enemy before the fight even begins—pride comes before the fall.

Half a day’s exhaustion and a full belly weighed on her; Kaeming hugged the banner and dozed off. Before long, a commotion roused her: “Get up, get up! No sleeping!”

Rubbing her eyes, she saw torches flickering everywhere and figures moving about. A boot struck her foot. “Wake up, lazybones!”

“Huh? What’s going on?” She hadn’t figured out the situation.

Chang Geng’s voice rang out above her, “Build the cooking fires—we must reach the battlefield before dawn!”

It was still pitch dark! Kaeming looked up at the black sky, sighing. No wonder novels spoke of marching at the third or fifth watch—it really was this early. How could anyone rest well? Without strength, how could they fight?

Grumbling inwardly, she still lent a hand to help her comrades set up the cooking fires, watching as they unwrapped cloth bundles, poured out rice, and produced a blackened square pan from who knows where, adding rice and water and fanning the flames.

After the day’s march, some soldiers began to speak to her.

“It’s rare for a woman to join the fourteenth unit. How did you end up here?” asked a sharp-faced, monkey-cheeked little fellow, glancing about and lowering his voice.

“I offended the wrong people,” she replied candidly—it was true, she had crossed the Dai estate.

“I see.” The little man nodded, understanding. “In the army, never offend those with connections. One word and you’ll be sent to die, fair and square.”

Kaeming agreed wholeheartedly.

Another man fanned the fire silently, watching the flames without a word.

The little fellow nudged him. “Thinking of your brother again?”

He didn’t answer. Kaeming saw he, too, had a dark face, his features unclear.

The little man explained, “His brother enlisted last year. He stood up for a comrade and struck a high official’s son, got sent to the suicide squad, went to the front once and was never seen again.”

Kaeming’s heart trembled. “Didn’t you search for him?”

“We tried. No sign, alive or dead,” the little man whispered. “Maybe he was eaten by wild dogs.”