As the sun moved toward noon, the main Razaasia infantry column was still reeling from the tiger attack. Payam, their field commander, was holding his position, waiting for confirmation of General Koorush's command. He had already issued his final order to his troops: hold the line and fight to the last breath until an eyewitness confirmed that Chinua was on the battlefield.
Payam stood alone with two bodyguards flanking him. He watched in grim silence as the opposing force shifted into a single, massive formation that he had never encountered before. By just one glance, he knew right away that his soldiers—who had been expecting a tired, weak Ginmiao remnant—were not enough to withstand this unprecedented, massive maneuver. He didn't need to fight this battle; he already knew he wouldn't win. His soldiers were little more than walking corpses, awaiting the impact.
Then, from behind him, he saw a group of two thousand soldiers rushing toward him. A captain, his face streaked with sweat and fear, jumped off his horse and sprinted straight to Payam.
"Sir Payam," the captain gasped. "The General wants you out of here!"
With that massive, aggressive formation taking shape, Payam understood its purpose immediately: the person leading that enemy troop wanted nothing less than complete annihilation. Standing here, alone in a foreign land, it was his mistake, his miscalculation, that had brought them to this point—not just facing the Ginmiao, but the combined strength of three nations.
Payam knew that only he could guarantee the main Razaasia force's escape. Only he was loyal enough and positioned to ensure that every soldier would act as a shield against swords or arrows for Koorush's safety.
He turned to the captain. He shook his head and said, "Captain, you take your men and return to assist General Koorush. You make absolutely sure that our General crosses the Golden Triangle."
The captain was confused. "But General Koorush said we must hold the line until you return."
Payam shifted his focus back to the terrifying battlefield, the Scorpion formation advancing steadily. He spoke slowly, every word meant to be remembered. "Tell General Koorush, I want him to personally scatter my ashes over Da-Lao Pass. He will understand if you tell him this."
"But..."
"No 'but.' He will not blame you," Payam said, his voice quiet but final. He turned back to the captain, and without needing an eyewitness to confirm Chinua's presence, the way the enemy soldiers lined up behind that single figure was confirmation enough. He knew that individual was none other than the Hmagol Eastern General.
He gave the captain a soft, sad smile. "Our big fish is confirmed."
The captain nodded at Payam, mounted his horse, and looked back to pay his last respect. He yelled out, "Light up the signals!"
The two thousand soldiers that Koorush had sent quickly spread out, riding toward the sixteen towers scattered across the camp. Designated soldiers fired light arrows at the tops of the towers as they rode past. Immediately, thick, red smoke began rising into the bright, clear sky.
Payam turned and watched the plumes of red smoke—the signal of ultimate danger and Koorush's command to retreat—ascend. He sighed and muttered to himself, "Good luck, my lord."
He turned back to the remaining soldiers. He mounted his horse and rode down toward the massed Razaasia cavalry and infantry that formed the center column.
"We are all dead men with a single purpose, and that purpose is to hold our enemy at bay until the smoke dissipates!" His voice boomed, overriding the distant clash of steel.
"Yes, Sir!" The soldiers shouted in unison, accepting their fate. With nothing else to lose and a single purpose, they showed no fear.
"Soldiers of Zasra!" Payam's voice echoed. "Get in formation!"
Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, General Chong was a whirlwind in the center of the frantic mêlée, his blade a desperate blur, fueled by the singular conviction that his death, and the death of his three hundred men, would save Zoaging. The Ginmiao soldiers were a wedge of pure sacrifice, ignoring the superior numbers of the Razaasia and focusing entirely on disrupting the core of Koorush's defensive line.
Xao, fighting alongside Chong, found himself trapped beneath a fallen horse. A massive Razaasia rider raised a mace, ready to deliver the killing blow, but Xao, with a desperate lunge, drove his shattered spear upward, impaling the horse's flank. The horse screamed and twisted, throwing the rider just as Chong arrived, cleaving the rider's helmet with a powerful downward strike.
"Get up, Xao!" Chong bellowed. "Keep them tangled!"
Xao, having lost his mount, quickly grabbed two swords from the ground and rushed forward straight at the enemy. He sprinted toward a pair of rushing horses, slicing the stomach and legs of both mounts. He quickly rolled to his left, avoiding another horse that ran straight for him.
Koorush was toying with Chong and his soldiers, buying time for Payam to arrive, so he did not commit his full force of cavalry against Chong's three hundred. Instead, he sent only eight hundred soldiers. To his surprise, the Ginmiao soldiers fought with a terrifying ferocity born of utter resignation; they were already dead in their minds, and this freedom from fear made their small band a catastrophic force.
Koorush watched the chaos from behind his bogged-down front ranks, his face contorted in furious disbelief. His eight hundred men were unable to finish off a few hundred Ginmiao. He understood that the enemy wasn't trying to win; they were trying to bleed him dry and steal his time, and he too was trying to stall. But at this moment, he feared that stalling here would give the main force in the middle of the battlefield more time to dispose of his soldiers before Payam arrived.
Just then, he saw it. The red plumes of smoke erupted into the sky from the distant main camp. Sixteen crimson columns, rising high and stark against the noon sun.
He turned to his left and found the very captain he had sent to assist Payam rushing toward him, without Payam.
"Where is Payam?" Koorush shouted, his angry voice making the captain swallow hard.
"Sir Payam sent a message for you."
"What is it?"
The captain looked at Koorush sadly and said, "Sir Payam said, the big fish is confirmed, and he wants General Koorush to scatter his ashes across Lao-Da Pass."
Koorush froze on his horse. The signal was unmistakable: Da-Lao Pass. Payam had not returned; he had sent a message through the smoke. Payam was making his final stand against Chinua's main attack, sacrificing himself to confirm Chinua's presence and guarantee Koorush's safe retreat.
His lips trembled. "Payam..." Tears moistened his eyes.
Koorush's fury vanished, replaced by a cold, agonizing necessity. He looked at the bloody mêlée, at the small band of Ginmiao soldiers fighting to their last breath to stall him and knew they had succeeded.
He lowered his sword, his voice cracking with the command. "Stop the advance! Sound the retreat!"
He pointed toward the Golden Triangle road. "The objective is secured! Retreat! Form the wedge! We move immediately!" He glanced back at the chaos of Chong's death ground. "Leave them! Let the dogs have their bloody ground. We follow the plan!"
The Razaasia soldiers, now alerted to the disaster at the main camp by the red smoke, began the painful process of disengaging and pulling back, abandoning the fight for the exit in a hasty, desperate attempt to survive. Chong's death ground had fully served its purpose.
From the high ramparts of Zaoging, Hye stood motionless next to Captain Long, his gaze sweeping the battlefield, past the fierce, bloody knot of General Chong's delaying action, and fixed on the main Razaasia camp.
He watched as the thick, crimson plumes of smoke rose from the sixteen towers, standing out violently against the pale noon sky.
"A retreat signal," Long muttered, relieved to see the Razaasia breaking contact with Chong's brave men. "They must be signaling Koorush to pull back."
Hye slowly shook his head, his focus absolute. "No. Look at the smoke's trajectory. It's too high, too thick, and too persistent to be a simple battlefield signal. Every soldier here can see the chaos. This message is not for their troops on the field."
He lifted his hand, shielding his eyes to peer into the distant horizon, past the Golden Triangle. "That smoke is a signal, but it is not meant for the battlefield. It is meant for a great distance—a message to someone far away, perhaps another army, or perhaps someone watching from an even farther distance."
Long's eyes widened as the implications sank in. "Another army? But what does the red smoke mean to them?"
Hye's lips curved into the slightest smile, an expression of professional admiration for his opponent's final, desperate move. "It means their leader has committed suicide by formation. It means whatever purpose they are here is complete, and Koorush is telling his distant allies that the package has been delivered and confirmed, and they must now uphold their end of the bargain."
Hye fell deep into thought. He knew Koorush was here seeking revenge for his brother, whom Chinua had killed in Hosha City. But if Koorush was so close to Chinua and had confirmed her presence, why would he suddenly retreat his army?
He quickly closed his eyes and paused, forcing himself to refresh and rethink everything. The pieces of the puzzle slammed into place, and the true, terrifying purpose of the Razaasia mission struck him like a thousand arrows hitting him at once.
"What's wrong?" Long asked, seeing the sudden, deathly paleness in Hye's face.
"I have to get down to the battlefield," Hye said, immediately turning and walking toward the stairwell.
"You cannot enter the battlefield; you are no soldier!" Long shouted, blocking his path. "I was here to protect you, and I will not allow you to walk into your death."
"I must!"
"Why!" Long shouted back, desperate.
"Those towers must be destroyed immediately," Hye said, his voice ragged with urgency. "If he or those who work for him see this, Chinua will not escape death!"
"What do you mean?" Long demanded.
"I have no time to explain to you," Hye insisted.
"If you have to go, I'll go!" Long declared. "I'm already injured, but I'm faster than you. Just destroy those towers, right?"
"Right," Hye confirmed, nodding once, trusting the Captain's commitment.
"Easy," Long said, already rushing down the stairwell, intent on his suicidal, tower-destroying mission.
Meanwhile, stood at the edge of Nue-Li City at the northern gate on the city wall, the red smoke was still visible despite the distance. Lixin turned to look at Dzhambul who was standing beside him. He smiled, a cold, predatory expression, and said, "Congratulations, Your Highness, your big fish is caught."