Chapter 15: Shadows in the Forest
The forest beyond the valley was unlike the wide plains the Wei favored for their disciplined phalanxes. Here, trees stood like ancient guardians, their branches interwoven so thickly that sunlight struggled to pierce through. The ground was uneven, littered with roots and hidden pits, and the air carried the damp scent of moss and decay. To the Qing and Ashfang, this was not an obstacle—it was a sanctuary.
Khan moved silently among his warriors, his eyes scanning the terrain with the focus of a hunter. Each tree, each slope, each shadow was a weapon waiting to be drawn. Around him, men and women crouched low, sharpening stakes, stringing bows, and weaving traps from rope and stone. The war drums of the Wei thundered faintly in the distance, echoing through the hills as the enemy advanced with the confidence of conquerors.
"Are we ready?" Han Long asked, his massive frame half-hidden behind a thick oak trunk. His hands rested on the hilt of his great blade, but for once, his impatience seemed tempered.
Khan nodded. "They think us broken after the valley. They think we will scatter. Instead, we will bleed them until their armor feels like chains."
Mei Lan knelt beside them, her bow strung tight, her quiver brimming with arrows. Her calm voice cut through the tension. "They will not expect silence. They will expect another charge. When the forest stays quiet, they will believe we have fled. That is when their arrogance will blind them."
Ragna, crouched with her axe resting across her knees, bared her teeth in a grin. "Then let us make them blind indeed."
The first ranks of the Wei army entered the forest at noon. Shen Tai himself rode at the front, his dark armor gleaming, his expression one of disdain. Around him, the disciplined columns moved in perfect lines, shields raised, spears angled forward. The sound of their boots striking in unison was like a drumbeat of domination.
"Fan out," Shen Tai ordered, his voice cold. "The savages hide like rats. Flush them out, and burn the trees if you must."
The soldiers obeyed, their formation beginning to stretch as the terrain forced them apart. The shield wall wavered—not broken, but no longer flawless.
Khan's hand lifted from the shadows above, signaling patience. His warriors waited, breaths shallow, arrows notched, hearts pounding like caged thunder. The Wei pressed deeper, unaware of the eyes that followed their every step.
A branch cracked beneath a soldier's boot. A crow cawed harshly from above. The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Then Khan's spear whistled through the air, striking a Wei captain clean through the throat.
Chaos erupted.
Arrows rained from the canopy, black feathers piercing armor joints and unprotected flesh. Warriors leapt from hidden pits, striking from behind before vanishing into shadows. Trees themselves seemed to come alive with ropes and weighted logs, slamming into unsuspecting soldiers and shattering their lines.
The Wei tried to respond with formation, but the forest betrayed them. Shields snagged on roots, spears collided with branches, and their lines fractured into isolated clusters.
"Hold the line!" Shen Tai roared, his blade flashing as he cut down one of Khan's warriors who had darted too close. His men rallied to him, forming a hasty shield circle. But for every man they struck, two more shadows flickered from the trees, harassing, retreating, striking again.
Han Long burst from the underbrush with a roar, swinging his massive sword like a tempest. A dozen Wei fell before him, their shields splintering under his relentless blows. He vanished back into the trees as quickly as he came, leaving only bodies in his wake.
On the opposite flank, Ragna led her Ashfang warriors in a whirlwind assault, axes biting deep into armor, blood splattering against mossy trunks. They did not linger, vanishing into the shadows once their strike was complete, leaving confusion in their wake.
Mei Lan's arrows found their marks with terrifying precision, each shot guided as though the forest itself bent to her will. She moved with uncanny grace, never staying in one place long enough to be targeted, her presence a ghostly terror that haunted the Wei ranks.
And at the center of it all was Khan, his spear flashing like lightning, his voice carrying above the din. "Strike, fade, strike again! The forest is ours!"
Hours passed, and what had begun as a march of dominance devolved into a nightmare. The Wei phalanx was gone, replaced by scattered bands of weary soldiers surrounded on all sides. Every tree could hide an enemy. Every shadow could bring death.
Shen Tai's face twisted with fury as he surveyed the chaos. "Savages!" he spat, his voice shaking with rage. "You think this makes you strong? You are nothing but cowards hiding in the dark!"
His words carried, but the weight of them was less than the weight of fear pressing on his soldiers' hearts. For every shout of defiance, there were groans of the dying, cries of panic, and the endless whisper of arrows cutting through leaves.
When the sun dipped low and shadows stretched long, the Wei broke. Soldiers fled the forest, abandoning their dead and wounded, desperate for the safety of open ground. Shen Tai himself retreated only after cutting down three of his own men who dared to run first. His pride burned hotter than his hatred.
As dusk settled, silence returned to the forest. The Qing and Ashfang emerged from their hiding places, weary but victorious. Bodies of the Wei littered the ground, a grim testament to the price of arrogance.
Han Long collapsed against a tree, bloodied but grinning. "By the spirits, Khan… we made the wolves bleed."
Ragna planted her axe into the earth and nodded. "They will not call us cowards again. Today, the forest was ours."
Mei Lan's eyes, however, were less triumphant. She looked at the bodies sprawled across moss and roots, at the pools of blood soaking into the earth. Her voice was quiet, almost lost in the wind. "How many storms like this must we weather before there is peace?"
Khan placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression grave but resolute. "As many as it takes. Until the Wei learn that we are not prey to be hunted, but the fire that will consume them."
He raised his spear to the night sky, the blood-stained tip catching the faint light of the moon. Around him, his warriors echoed with shouts that shook the forest.
The Qing had not only survived—they had drawn blood from the empire itself.
And this was only the beginning.