In the vast and wild desert, human hearts were scattered like grains of sand, blown away by the winds. Wherever you looked, there was nothing but desolation. Perhaps someone might dream that the land on the other side of this wasteland was greener, more glorious. But once they reached the other side, they’d realize it was the same—there was no paradise on Earth. Better to swallow the sand and drink the wild wind! Who knows? Perhaps that’s the mark of a true hero. Five hundred years ago, what was this place like? Was it covered in water, or mountains? No one knows for sure, but someone once said that it wasn’t always a dry sea of sand.
Of course, such poetic, wistful thoughts were far from the minds of the people of Yunpei. They lived in a seemingly enchanted mirage in the desert, their lives filled with endless revelry and peace. Theirs was a world where exotic birds sang and moonlit flowers bloomed.
“Leader! That’s Yunpei over there,” Mang Hu’s broad back stood tall and strong, and even his usual bloodlust was momentarily subdued by the sight of Yunpei’s border, so full of life and vitality.
“Hmph! A great nation indeed. Even their outer defenses are tight. Not as easy to exploit as other places,” Ruo Wen’s dangerous eyes scanned the distant city of Yunpei, his posture relaxed but ever-watchful. His horse was much larger than the others, and his imposing frame and agile movements allowed him to sit atop it with ease. He adjusted the reins and turned to leave.
“Leader?” Mang Hu asked, confused.
“We’ll head west to Masui first. It’ll be an easier target, and if Mang Liu’s intelligence is correct, Masui is like a feast waiting for us,” Ruo Wen said with a knowing smile.
Mang Hu didn’t care much about the strategy, but he found it odd that their leader trusted Mang Liu’s intelligence network so easily. After all, spies could always provide false information.
He remembered the day they were ambushed on their way out of a fallen city. A man dressed in black had blocked their path. The brothers, fresh from sacking the town, were itching for a fight and were about to cut him down when the man calmly offered to sell Ruo Wen some valuable information for fifty gold coins. Ruo Wen had remained silent for a long while before laughing loudly and cutting off the man’s arm with a swift stroke. “This is what happens when you get in my way. If your information pleases me, I’ll give you a thousand gold coins to compensate for your arm. If it doesn’t, I’ll have you chopped into pieces! No one does business with me.”
The man’s eyes flashed with defiance, clearly someone well-trained. Without showing fear, he quickly bandaged his arm and, in a calm and deliberate tone, replied, “Masui. The slave trade has grown too large, and the king has done nothing to curb it. The country is on the verge of revolt. If you head south, taking Masui as a stronghold will be as easy as plucking a ripe fruit.”
Ruo Wen had stared at the man for a long time before asking, “Who are you?”
The man answered, “Mang Liu. I deal in information, trading news from every corner of the desert.”
Ruo Wen smiled, tossed the man a bag of gold, and said no more.
There was no proof of the information’s validity, but Ruo Wen trusted his instinct.
Perhaps that’s the way it was with Ruo Wen—many times, even when you have all the information, it doesn’t guarantee you’ll make the right decision. But intuition is different. Though it may be wrong, it’s often the most efficient and quickest way. And Ruo Wen trusted his instincts implicitly.
In fact, the Mad Yellow Army of Heaven had pillaged their way south, sacking small oases and towns. Along the way, they amassed untold wealth and weapons, and their numbers had swelled from two thousand to four thousand. It wasn’t a huge number, but every man among them was a lunatic who could fight ten men at once. They took one hundred and kept ten, took a thousand and kept fifty—anyone who ran was killed, anyone who betrayed them was killed, anyone who hesitated was killed. Only those who could keep up were allowed to live.
It wasn’t hard to imagine the carnage left in their wake—fields of corpses and rivers of blood wherever they went.
Ruo Wen! Are you still as restless, as full of wild energy, sitting atop that fierce horse? Is the majestic palace you now gaze upon the true end of your desires? Who there, if anyone, can soothe your unsettled soul?
Ruo Wen! Some fates are destined by the heavens. Kill and plunder at will, but know that one day, you’ll have to pay it all back, down to the last drop. You don’t know, you don’t know!
The sky turned a brilliant shade of red, streaked with bizarre glowing clouds. It looked almost mystical, as if it might reveal some monstrous beast from the heavens. Golden lightning slashed through the sky, cutting across the firmament with white-hot flashes. Who could be there, watching this cycle of tumult in the desert world, the love and hatred of the children of the sands? Yet this world isn’t something anyone can fully comprehend. It is too fallen, too desolate, like an old man breathing his last, glowing faintly with final, fleeting brilliance. There is no one here—only the whispers of memory and the echoes of forgotten songs.
"Officer! Let us into the city! We won’t cause any trouble, please let us in!"
"We just want to enter the city, please let us in!"
"Honorable officer, here’s a little something for you. Please allow my family entry into the city!"
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