The next two weeks passed without much incident.
Rong Xu made sure to observe closely, far more closely than before, but he soon realized that I had genuinely reduced the amount of black resin poured into the river each time. Gradually, his tension eased. True to his word, he said nothing to Renshu about my earlier deception.
The river itself, however, began to change.
Only slightly. A shade darker than before, so subtle it could be dismissed as shadow or silt. The Mongol soldiers, who traveled daily and rarely observed it, were unlikely to notice. Even if they did, it would mean little. Rivers changed color all the time.
"Aryan," Wei Fang asked one afternoon, his voice carrying easily over the gathered commanders, "how is the poisoning progressing?"
"Smoothly," I replied.
He smiled faintly. "Perhaps you could explain it further. The other commanders are curious about how this foreign poison works. They've also questioned why so much effort was required simply to extract it."
The commanders beside him nodded in practiced unison.
They were Wei Fang's echoes, men who mirrored his tone, his expressions, even his opinions. I had noticed it long ago, back at Renshu's palace. They spoke when he spoke, doubted when he doubted, approved when he approved. Independent thought was not their strength.
I inhaled slowly and explained everything.
Where the poison originated. How it was processed. Its effects on the human body, fatigue first, then fever, weakness, confusion. I detailed how it would spread through the riverbed, cling to silt, and compound over time. I emphasized its greatest advantage: it was foreign. Even if the symptoms resembled known toxins, the Mongols would not have a cure.
All the while, I avoided looking at Rong Xu when I stated that the daily dosage was half a bucket.
"You've clearly thought this through," one commander said after a pause. "But what if it fails?"
"If you elaborate," I replied calmly, "I can provide a solution."
The man stiffened, clearly irritated by my tone. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
He wasn't important.
Wei Fang was.
As our gazes met, I noticed something unusual, his brows lifted slightly, his smile slower, less rehearsed.
"I have no further questions," he said smoothly. "Sir Renshu, shall we continue planning army formations? While Aryan's plan is good, relying solely on poison would be unwise. A strong military backup is always necessary."
"Yes," Renshu agreed quietly. "That's true."
As they walked away, I noticed Renshu's expression, something like unease, almost horror.
Why was he struggling so much with this?
Months ago, he had agreed without hesitation. Perhaps seeing the consequences unfold in reality disturbed him. Poisoning was quieter than battle. No clashing swords, no heroic charges, just sickness, exhaustion, and death.
I felt none of that discomfort.
The Mongols had come to invade. To kill. To take land that wasn't theirs. Why should we mourn soldiers who came to slaughter us? We weren't poisoning civilians. Only those who wished us harm.
---
"Two weeks," Rong Xu muttered one evening as we stood by the riverbank. "Only about two weeks left before they arrive."
"Yes."
"When are you planning to tell Renshu?" he asked carefully. "About… everything."
"Now would be the worst possible time," I replied. "He looks more unwell each day. Once we confirm that the Mongols are properly weakened—and after the army defeats them—I'll tell him."
He nodded, relieved. "I'm glad to hear that. I hate keeping secrets."
"Even if the secret helps someone?" I asked.
"Yes," he said without hesitation. "Even then. I'd want honesty from them too. I can't expect truth if I lie first."
I turned back to the river, pouring the resin slowly.
He was righteous. Perhaps too much so. Reliable, but not strategic.
If Wei Fang had been the one standing beside me, the conversation would have gone very differently. He was fascinating in that way, revealing just enough of himself to make others feel trusted, while never truly exposing anything real.
He was always smiling and happy. Nowadays he's much more serious, it'd be abnormal for a commander to be happy during a time of battles. He acted serious infront of high officials, making them think he is showing them his true self. Yet, if anything, they should be more concerned how he seemed to act so happy and cheerful with others.
I wondered how many masks he wore.
My thoughts drifted back to the poison.
There was no reason for it to fail. I had accounted for everything. The only possibility was that the Mongols carried their own water, but that made little sense. They had traveled slowly for over a month. Food could be stored. Water could too, but why would they, when a river flowed freely before them?
Water poisoning wasn't common in recorded battles. Most conflicts were decided with swords, gunpowder and cannons. They wouldn't expect this.
"I'm finished," I said quietly. "Thank you again for keeping my secret."
"I won't forever," Rong Xu replied. "I'm trusting you to tell him."
"I will."
---
"How is the poisoning progressing?"
Renshu stood before me, fully armored, his tall frame casting a long shadow. He looked every bit the general, stern, commanding, distant.
Yet I knew better.
Deep down, he wasn't like Wei Fang. Nor like my father. He wasn't suited for deception. Or quiet killing.
"It's going well," I answered. "Is there an issue?"
"No," he said quickly. "I mean—why would there be?"
"Good," I replied. "How are the army preparations?"
"Wei Fang is overseeing them. Attack formations, strategies. My role is mostly approval."
I nodded and turned toward my quarters.
He hesitated.
He wanted to ask something. I could feel it.
Perhaps whether I felt guilt. Or why I hadn't shared every detail. But those questions didn't matter—not yet.
I would answer them later.
When the river had done its work.