Chapter Forty-Two: A Sudden Turn of Events

Pushing aside the lush leaves, all that could be glimpsed in the shifting shadows were the figures of Nangong soldiers. Chang Geng inhaled deeply, ordering the group to crouch low and carefully draw closer to the Nangong forces.

Spears and pikes thrashed haphazardly through the undergrowth; the Nangong soldiers pressed in relentlessly. The soldiers of the Zhonggong gripped their weapons with tense, white-knuckled hands.

A sharp crack rang out—clear and piercing. Instantly, the Nangong soldiers froze, all eyes snapping toward the source. Even the Zhonggong troops were startled, stunned to discover that the sound had come from one of their own: a soldier stood stricken, unable to move, his foot planted on a snapped branch.

It was none other than Xiao Hei.

A shrill whistle from the Nangong ranks, and their whole force surged forward in a ferocious charge. Closest to them, Chang Geng had no choice but to rise to his feet, shouting, “We’re exposed now—remember, feign defeat and lure them west!”

Kai Ming gave a bitter smile—was victory even possible now? Of course not; defeat was inevitable.

The Zhonggong soldiers stood and drew their weapons, plunging into the chaos of battle. Chang Geng felled two foes with his halberd, then signaled his men, retreating westward in rapid disorder. Fighting as they withdrew, the Zhonggong soldiers successfully drew their enemy’s attention.

After a desperate flight, the Nangong soldiers sent out their signal, summoning ever more troops. Chang Geng pressed his back to a tree, peering out to assess the enemy. Suddenly, a sharp arrow struck without warning, embedding itself beside his cheek—a cold sweat broke over him.

The Nangong archers had begun their assault, arrows whistling like angry wasps, felling many Zhonggong soldiers; the air was thick with unending screams.

“This won’t do!” Chang Geng bellowed to the remaining troops, “Scatter! Flee deeper into the woods! Find a chance to regroup!”

Terrified but obedient, the soldiers answered, though it was doubtful any truly heard him.

Chang Geng sighed, casting a glance two paces away where a deathly pale female soldier crouched, eyes squeezed shut, hands clamped over her ears, shaking uncontrollably.

No time for hesitation—dodging two more arrows, he darted to her side, seized her arm, and dragged her forward at a run.

“Commander!” Kai Ming’s eyes flew open, recognizing Chang Geng, and cried out instinctively.

“Quiet!” Chang Geng snapped, batting away another arrow with his halberd, not once looking back.

Kai Ming frantically scanned for their comrades. “Gouzi! Gouzi!”

“Kai Ming!” came a distant reply. Gouzi and Xiao Hei burst from the brush, dashing to join them.

No one knew how long they ran—their legs numb, as if no longer their own—before Chang Geng finally halted. She collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, while Gouzi and Xiao Hei arrived, equally winded.

Surveying the surroundings, Chang Geng found only seven or eight soldiers had stayed with him—each one panic-stricken, caked in mud.

From afar came the distant thudding of blows, the endless wails of agony.

Dawn crept along the horizon. Chang Geng’s expression turned grave. “If daylight breaks, we’ll be found even if we hide in the woods. We must escape before sunrise!”

No one spoke; they waited in silence for their commander’s decision. For them, obedience was their only hope of survival.

Just as Chang Geng finished speaking, a rustling came from ahead. Faces blanched in terror. “Commander!”

“Silence!” Chang Geng made a gesture; the group followed, silently parting the branches to peer ahead. What they saw chilled them to the core.

Less than two hundred meters away, a full regiment in steel helmets and iron armor stood in perfect formation—banners flying, warhorses neighing. It was the main force of Nangong.

Reports came steadily to their commander: “Commander, we found a dozen Zhonggong soldiers in the western woods.”

“Commander, four captured alive, five dead.”

Kai Ming strained to see, recognizing the silver-armored young officer sitting tall on his horse, receiving reports—wasn’t that the young Vanguard of Sikong?

Sikong showed no emotion, merely asking, “No sign of Dayin?”

The reporting soldier replied sheepishly, “Not yet, sir.”

Hearing this, Chang Geng relaxed a little. If Dayin was still missing, it meant she had been safely evacuated; with the general safe, his own fate mattered little.

Sikong’s face was dark as thunder until a peal of laughter rang out—a voice gentle as spring water teased, “Nangong has won a resounding victory. Why is our Commander Sikong still frowning?”

Sikong looked up, a smile flickering at his lips and in his eyes. “Where were you hiding during the fight? Only now, when the dust has settled, do you come out to claim the credit?” Though the words were sharp, the tone was intimate.

The voice was familiar to Kai Ming; she couldn’t help but rise a little, trying to see more clearly. Chang Geng pulled her back down with a warning glance—no rash moves.

In a moment, the man stepped out, leading a horse. His white robe was spattered with mud, his face serene, eyes limpid as autumn water, a faint ironic smile at his lips.

“Qing Yun?!” Kai Ming nearly gave them away again. Only Chang Geng’s fierce glare brought her to her senses.

“Commander Yun? He’s over there!” She gestured in disbelief, stammering.

“I have eyes,” Chang Geng snapped. “Qing Yun has always been with Nangong. What’s strange about that?”

“Then he… really was a double agent?” she whispered.

“All’s fair in war—nothing surprising,” Chang Geng replied, unnaturally calm.

Kai Ming could only stare at him, unable to speak.

By then, Qing Yun was conversing with Sikong.

“I wasn’t hiding—I went to fetch your horse,” Qing Yun said with a smile, stroking the long mane of the red steed at his side. “Unless you really don’t want it anymore.”

“Who says I don’t?” Sikong leaped from his horse and rushed joyfully to his beloved mount, embracing its head as if it were a lover. “If not for your clever plan, how could I have borne to give my Chasing Wind away?”

Qing Yun laughed. “Your victory is thanks to my trick, isn’t it? Chasing Wind deserves credit too!”

Chasing Wind? Kai Ming thought, what a typical warhorse name—so uninspired. Clearly, this Sikong wasn’t much for originality, either in mind or in naming horses.

Watching Sikong dote on his horse, Qing Yun suddenly burst out laughing.

Sikong glared at him. “Are you mocking me again?”

“Not at you,” Qing Yun replied mildly. “I just remembered the time someone plucked Chasing Wind’s hair.”

“Who dared pluck my Chasing Wind’s hair?!” Sikong jumped, red-faced like a child whose prized possession had been violated. “If I catch them, I’ll skin them alive!”

Kai Ming couldn’t help sticking out her tongue—so ruthless! Young General Sikong, rest assured, I treated your Chasing Wind’s hair with care. Isn’t it a treasure? It’s sleeping peacefully in my pouch right now.

The thought amused her, though she dared not laugh aloud.

Qing Yun opened his mouth, then changed his mind. “I’m not telling you!”

Sikong, exasperated, grabbed his collar, glaring. “You dare keep it from me?”

Qing Yun giggled, “Commander, dawn is breaking. Aren’t you anxious to report to General Quan?”

Jolted by this, Sikong released him at once, his face shifting. He turned and ordered his soldiers, “Send word—intensify the search! Do not let Dayin escape!”

With that, he departed swiftly.

A muffled sound startled Chang Geng’s group—a soldier had sunk into a rain-softened pit, both feet trapped, and cried out in panic.

Chang Geng’s face changed instantly. Falling in a pit was one thing—crying out was another. He turned and saw Sikong, mid-command, freeze and whip his head around.

“Damn! We have to go—now!” Chang Geng sprang up, halberd in hand.

“There are people over there!” As expected, Sikong had spotted them, shouting, “After them!” A storm of footsteps slapped the muddy ground in pursuit.

“Xiao Hei, how could you be so careless!” Gouzi grumbled as they ran.

Xiao Hei again? Kai Ming’s heart gave a jolt, a vague suspicion forming she couldn’t quite name.

Hoofbeats thundered; Sikong gave chase on horseback, his eyes catching a glimpse of a dark green cloak. “That’s the Zhonggong commander! Watch the one in the green cloak—handsome rewards for whoever takes him!”

Cursing, Chang Geng quickly stripped off his green cloak, hung it on a branch, and led the group down another path.

A hail of arrows pinned the cloak to the tree. Sikong arrived, cursing, “Damn it!”

The chase continued. Sikong shouted, “The one in the silver helmet and white armor is the Zhonggong commander! Whoever captures him, a thousand taels of gold as reward!”

Tempted by such a bounty, the Nangong soldiers pressed on with renewed ferocity.

“Damn it!” Chang Geng shed his helmet and armor, propping them up in human shape on a treetop, then fled once more.

Kai Ming couldn’t help but think of the story of Cao Cao slicing his beard and robe to escape—how similar it was to their current plight. Amusing, but no one was laughing.

As daylight broke, the forest’s every hiding place was exposed. The Zhonggong troops were slaughtered or captured; in the end, only Kai Ming, Xiao Hei, and Gouzi remained.

Chang Geng stayed vigilant, peering through the leaves to watch the Nangong troops. Kai Ming whispered, “Commander, perhaps we should surrender?”

“Surrender?!” Chang Geng’s eyes widened in fury. “A loyal man would rather die in battle than surrender!”

Kai Ming sighed. You can keep your loyalty; I want to stay alive. She turned these thoughts over, pondering how to find a way out for both of them.

Just then, Chang Geng let out a cry of shock, staring behind her in disbelief. Kai Ming, alarmed, thought—at a time like this, outbursts meant disaster. What was wrong with Chang Geng, usually so controlled and calm?

Suddenly, a strong smell of blood filled the air. Chang Geng staggered, unable to stay upright, and collapsed to the ground. A gash had split open his shoulder and back; thick red blood poured from the wound.

“Commander!” she cried, rushing to shield him, glaring at the assailant behind. “Why—why would you do this? Xiao Hei!”

Standing there, gripping a bloodied saber, was none other than Xiao Hei, his face dark and predatory.

Gouzi, trembling, stood beside him, staring in horror, “Xiao Hei, you—you killed the commander?!”