A bitter wind swept through Yuanjiang Pass.
The mountain gorge was narrow and steep, jagged cliffs rising on both sides like the teeth of some ancient beast. Snow from the night before had not yet melted, but the white ground was already trampled and stained dark. Blood mixed with slush beneath the soldiers' boots.
War cries echoed against the mountain walls.
Steel clashed without pause.
War horses screamed as they reared, hooves striking the churned earth. Broken spears lay scattered across the ground while soldiers surged forward in uneven waves, shouting, falling, rising again.
The battlefield had long since descended into chaos.
Li Zhen moved through it like a blade cutting through grass.
His armor was splattered with blood, some of it his enemies', some of it his own soldiers', though he paid it no mind. His long sword cut forward again, the edge flashing briefly before disappearing into the chest of a Yanxi soldier who had rushed toward him.
The soldier staggered, choking on blood. For a moment his eyes widened in disbelief.
Then he collapsed.
Li Zhen's expression did not change he pulled his sword free without hesitation.
Another soldier lunged from the side with a spear. The movement was fast, desperate, but Li Zhen's reaction was faster. He stepped half a pace back, letting the spear point scrape along the metal of his armor. At the same moment his sword came down in a swift arc.
The spear wielder's neck split open.
Hot blood sprayed across the snow.
The man dropped where he stood.
Around him the soldiers of the Raven banner army pressed forward, following their commander's path through the enemy ranks. Wherever Li Zhen moved, a gap opened in the Yanxi formation.
No one could stop him.
Not for long.
From somewhere deeper in the battlefield a horn sounded.
The Yanxi soldiers suddenly shifted.
Their formation pulled back, parting just enough to allow someone through.
A tall man stepped forward.
His armor was dark, his cloak torn by battle, and his long spear rested easily in his hand. Even from a distance there was a calm confidence about him.
The Yanxi soldiers behind him seemed to regain their courage.
Someone shouted.
"General Zhuo!"
Li Zhen slowed slightly.
His dark eyes lifted.
So this was the Yanxi commander.
General Zhuo Feng.
The man studied Li Zhen from across the blood soaked ground.
For a moment neither moved.
Snow drifted between them.
Broken banners flapped weakly in the cold wind.
Then Zhuo Feng's lips curved into a faint, deliberate smile that did not reach his eyes.
"So" he said, voice carrying over the clash of steel and cries "the famous War Hound of Ming."
Li Zhen did not answer. His eyes remained fixed, unreadable and still.
Words had little value here.
Zhuo Feng's smile widened just slightly.
"Let us see," he said, adjusting his grip on the spear, "whether the rumors are exaggerated."
The ground between them vanished in an instant.
Zhuo Feng's spear struck first.
It came fast.
The spearhead cut through the air with frightening precision, aimed straight for Li Zhen's throat.
Li Zhen turned his body just enough for the attack to pass beside him.
The spearhead grazed his armor.
A second strike followed immediately.
Then a third.
Zhuo Feng's movements were smooth and relentless, the long spear spinning through the air in flashing arcs. Each strike carried the full force of a seasoned general who had spent half his life on battlefields.
Li Zhen blocked the next attack with his sword.
Metal rang sharply.
The force of the strike traveled down his arm.
For a moment neither weapon moved.
Then Zhuo Feng twisted the spear suddenly, forcing Li Zhen to step back.
The Yanxi general advanced.
His spear thrust forward again and again, each strike faster than the last.
Li Zhen's sword moved in response.
Block.
Deflect.
Turn.
His boots slid slightly on the blood slick snow as he adjusted his footing. The spear came close enough that he could feel the wind of its passage against his cheek.
Zhuo Feng was skilled.
Very skilled.
Their weapons clashed again.
The impact sent sparks scattering through the air.
Nearby soldiers had slowed fighting.
The troops formed a wide perimeter, weapons clashing, keeping just enough distance to avoid the deadly reach of their leaders.
Zhuo Feng suddenly shifted his stance.
The spear swept low toward Li Zhen's legs.
Li Zhen jumped back.
The spear missed by a finger's width.
But Zhuo Feng had already moved again.
The spear shaft spun in his hands and the blade drove forward toward Li Zhen's chest.
This time Li Zhen did not retreat.
He stepped in.
The spearhead scraped across his shoulder armor as he closed the distance between them. Before Zhuo Feng could pull back, Li Zhen's sword slashed upward.
The blade cut across Zhuo Feng's forearm.
Blood appeared instantly.
The Yanxi general's grip faltered for the briefest moment.
That moment was enough.
Li Zhen struck again.
His sword swept across in a brutal horizontal arc.
Zhuo Feng barely managed to raise the spear shaft to block.
Wood cracked under the force.
Both men staggered back a step.
For the first time Zhuo Feng's expression changed.
The faint smile had disappeared.
They circled each other slowly now.
Snow fell softly between them.
Zhuo Feng wiped the blood from his arm with the back of his hand.
Then he laughed.
"Good," he said quietly.
He lunged forward again.
The final exchange was fast.
Too fast for the watching soldiers to follow.
The spear struck.
Li Zhen twisted aside.
The sword flashed.
For a moment everything seemed to freeze.
Then Zhuo Feng's body swayed.
A thin red line appeared across his throat.
His spear slipped from his fingers.
He collapsed into the snow.
Silence spread across the battlefield.
Soldiers froze. Some clutched their spears, eyes wide. Others stumbled, unsure where to move first.
Shouts tore through the ranks. Some obeyed, some didn't. Confusion spread faster than fear.
Li Zhen did not move. He stood among the blood and winter flakes, eyes sharp and unblinking, watching them scatter.
A few soldiers broke first. Then more. Panic trickled down the mountain pass.
He did not pursue. He did not need to. The battle had already ended.
Not far from Yuanjiang Pass, a quiet village sat beside a wide river.
The villagers of Longqiao had woken that morning to the sound of approaching soldiers.
Men in Raven banner armor rode into the village square.
One of them stepped forward and held up a metal badge.
The badge of Li Zhen.
"The Crown Prince has given orders," the man announced coldly. "Yanxi spies are hiding here. The entire village will be purged."
Panic spread immediately.
The villagers began shouting, pleading.
Some tried to run.
They were cut down before they reached the road.
The soldiers moved toward the dam above the river.
Heavy tools struck the stone structure.
Cracks spread through the old wall.
Water began to pour through.
At first it was only a trickle.
Then the dam gave way.
The roar of the flood swallowed the village.
Li Zhen returned to the Raven banner camp shortly after sunset.
Snow still clung to the edges of the mountains.
The wind had grown colder.
As he dismounted from his horse, a familiar voice called out.
"Your Highness."
Zhou Wei approached with an easy grin, his armor dented but his mood unusually bright.
"That was quite the battle," he said casually. "The Yanxi general fought well. I almost felt sorry for him."
Li Zhen walked past him.
Zhou Wei fell into step beside him.
"Still," Zhou Wei continued, "cutting down Zhuo Feng like that will give the Yanxi court nightmares."
Li Zhen said nothing.
They had nearly reached the command tent when another man approached in a hurry.
Liang Shu.
Li Zhen's advisor rarely lost his composure.
Today his face was pale.
"Your Highness," he said quietly, "there is a problem."
Li Zhen stopped.
"What problem?"
Liang Shu hesitated.
"A village... near the river. Longqiao village."
"What about it?"
"The dam above the village was destroyed."
Li Zhen's eyes narrowed slightly.
"How many casualties?"
Liang Shu swallowed.
"Most of the villagers are dead."
The air grew very still.
"Who gave the order?" Li Zhen asked.
Liang Shu's expression tightened.
"The soldiers claimed they were acting under your command."
For the first time that day Li Zhen's gaze turned murderous.
"Take me there."
What remained of Longqiao village looked like the aftermath of a nightmare.
Water still rushed through the broken streets.
Homes had collapsed into piles of soaked timber and shattered tiles.
Bodies lay everywhere.
Some were tangled in broken carts.
Others had been carried by the current and thrown against the remains of the village wall.
The smell of mud, blood, and river water filled the air.
A soaked woman knelt beside a body in the dirt, shaking it desperately.
Nearby a lone child cried weakly.
Li Zhen stepped slowly through the wreckage.
His boots sank into the wet ground.
This was no battlefield.
There had been no fight here.
But it was filled with slaughter.
Zhou Wei stood silently behind him.
Even he had no jokes now.
"Find the soldiers responsible," Li Zhen said.
"They're already being rounded up," Liang Shu replied.
Several men were dragged forward soon after.
Their armor marked them clearly as soldiers of Li Zhen's army.
One of them trembled violently.
Another stared at the ground.
Li Zhen's gaze settled on the man at the center.
"You," he said coldly. "Who gave the order?"
The man looked up.
Fear flickered across his face.
But he said nothing.
Li Zhen's patience was short.
"Answer."
Still nothing.
Li Zhen stepped forward, his gaze settled on the man like a drawn blade.
The man suddenly bit down on something hidden beneath his tongue.
Foam spilled from his mouth.
Within seconds he was dead.
Li Zhen glanced at the corpse once before looking away.
"Search him."
The soldiers obeyed.
But they found nothing.
No badge.
No order.
Nothing that could prove who had truly commanded the massacre.
Li Zhen looked across the ruined village with a cold annoyance.
Evidence gone.
Witnesses dead.
Only the devastation remained.
For the first time that day, frustration flickered behind his calm expression.
Somewhere, someone had planned this carefully.
And they had used his name to do it.