The army moved like a river of steel—slow, massive, unrelenting. Tens of thousands of men marched across the dusty roads leading into the Bayou region, their footsteps pounding into the earth like a distant drumbeat.
Ren rode near the front of his hundred-man unit, flanked by his right-hand man, Kai. Calm-eyed and sharp-tongued, Kai kept one hand resting casually on the hilt of his blade, the other occasionally brushing aside stray strands of hair as he surveyed the surrounding terrain.
"Too quiet for a march this big," Kai muttered. "Makes my skin itch."
Ren nodded slightly. "Means something's waiting."
They didn't need many words. Kai had been with Ren long enough to move with his thoughts. Their men respected both of them—Ren for his instincts and calm in battle, Kai for his sharp battlefield awareness and unwavering presence at Ren's side.
Farther down the formation, Shin marched with his hundred-man unit. The new command weighed on him—not as a burden, but as a challenge. His men followed him because they believed in his strength. And Shin, in turn, believed in them.
At the head of the main army, towering banners bearing the sigil of General Ouki billowed in the wind. The formations ahead moved with clean precision—disciplined and practiced. Shin couldn't take his eyes off them.
"Those guys… they don't waste a single movement," he muttered under his breath.
Though he wasn't officially under Ouki's command, Shin could feel something drawing him in that direction. He didn't have the words for it, but his gut told him: That's where I need to be.
Back with Ren's unit, orders arrived by courier: scout a ridge near a river valley where a Zhao ambush force had last been spotted. No further reports had come since.
As dusk settled over the landscape, the unit approached the ridge. The sky was streaked with orange and violet, and the silence was unnerving.
Kai crouched beside Ren, eyes narrowing. "No fires. No movement. Think they're gone?"
Ren didn't answer right away. He stood still, breathing in slowly. The birds were quiet. The wind was still. Too still.
"They're not gone," Ren said. "They're waiting."
Kai smirked. "Then let's flip the trap."
Ren issued quick, quiet commands. Kai relayed them with his usual sharpness, filling in the gaps where needed. Their coordination was seamless—Ren's instinct and Kai's voice working as one.
When the Zhao troops finally moved—arrows flying from the cliffs and soldiers bursting from the trees—Ren's men were already in position. They had drawn the enemy in exactly where they wanted them.
Kai was the first to clash, blade flashing in the fading light. "Now! Pull around from both sides!"
Ren charged shortly after, weaving through the enemy formation like a ghost. He didn't bark orders or make declarations. He simply moved—anticipating strikes before they came, reading the flow of battle like a river bending around stones.
Within minutes, the enemy's formation collapsed. Ren's trap had turned the ambush into a slaughter. The Zhao survivors fled, but few made it back into the trees.
Afterward, Ren sat on a rock, running a cloth over his blade. His arm had a shallow cut, nothing serious.
Kai leaned on his sword beside him. "We only lost three. For a first clash of the campaign? That's damn good."
Ren glanced up. "The birds were too quiet. That's how I knew."
Kai raised an eyebrow. "You trust your ears more than your eyes?"
"I trust the world to speak. Most people just don't listen."
Kai chuckled. "Well, it's working. Keep listening."
Elsewhere, Shin's unit ran into its own trouble. The terrain was chaotic, and unit formations scattered. Orders were late, and an enemy squad of Zhao spearmen charged toward a broken section of their line.
Before Shin could call out, Kyou Kai was already moving. Silent and precise, she slid through the gap like water, her blade flickering in the dusk. Three enemies dropped in the space of a breath.
Shin didn't flinch. "Nice timing, Kyou Kai."
She nodded slightly, not speaking, and returned to her place in the formation.
One of the nearby soldiers muttered, "She's quiet, huh?"
"She doesn't need to talk," Shin said. "She gets it done."
The unit regrouped and held formation. No one questioned her place after that.
By nightfall, the army had stopped along the ridges. Fires glowed against the hillsides as soldiers ate in silence or patched wounds. The scent of smoke hung thick in the cool night air.
Ren sat apart with Kai as always, both of them wordless for a while.
Finally, Kai spoke. "This doesn't feel like the little battles we used to see near the border."
Ren stared into the flames for a long moment.
"…Something's off," he said quietly.
Kai looked sideways at him. "You think it's a trap?"
Ren didn't answer right away. His eyes were still fixed on the fire, but his mind was somewhere far ahead, feeling the weight of something just beyond reach.
"…No. Not a trap exactly," he murmured. "But it's not simple either."
Kai didn't press. He'd learned by now—when Ren spoke like that, it was better to listen than argue.