This was the border gate of Maika, at the edge of Gu He. A large crowd of refugees had gathered, desperate to enter the city. All around, Gu He’s officials were growing increasingly anxious. The situation was dire—the influx of refugees into Gu He’s three border towns, including Maika, had already resulted in several riots and looting incidents. The kingdom had no choice but to close its gates, but how long could this policy hold? As long as the chaos on the border continued, Gu He would remain in a precarious position.
“Your Majesty! Ma Sui has sent a third request for aid. How should we respond?”
In the grand hall of Gu He’s Guang Yin Palace, the court officials were growing frantic. The neighboring kingdom of Ma Sui was in the throes of an unprecedented crisis, and as the two countries shared a close geographical and political bond, the collapse of one would inevitably drag the other down.
King Gu Cha sat in silence, pondering for a long time before finally speaking: “What do you all suggest? Last time we sent troops to assist in defending the border towns, the losses were heavy. And now…”
It was clear from his hesitant tone that Gu Cha lacked both foresight and decisiveness. His ministers, equally at a loss, exchanged anxious glances. What could they do? What could possibly be done?
The Mad Yellow Army of Heaven.
The very thought of that name sent chills down their spines. How had such a dangerous army from the northern desert made its way south? Ma Sui’s capital was now completely surrounded, its water sources controlled, and all fifteen of its border towns had fallen. And all of this—accomplished by a mere four thousand men.
According to intelligence reports, the Mad Yellow Army of Heaven had started as a band of northern desert bandits. But now, who could still call them mere bandits? Bandits don’t lay siege to capitals. Bandits don’t decimate a force of twenty thousand royal soldiers. No, these were no bandits.
“Your Majesty,” an elderly minister spoke up with a reasonable suggestion. “We should immediately contact Yunpei. With the aid of Na Zhan’s Red Cavalry, eliminating these four thousand marauders would be a simple task.”
Another minister countered, “That may be a solution, but the messenger must reach Yunpei within three days. If not, Ma Sui will fall, and Gu He will be next. Who will we send? Once outside the city, their fate will be left to the whims of the gods.”
Silence fell once more. No one was eager to take on such a perilous mission. Each official prayed they wouldn’t be the one chosen for this dangerous task. Then, suddenly, a voice full of boldness and resolve echoed through the hall. “I’ll go!”
All eyes turned to see the commander of the palace guards, Zhan Bie, striding in with purpose. His broad shoulders and muscular frame exuded confidence, and his eyes burned with determination. Kneeling before the king, he declared, “Your Majesty! Though I am but a humble soldier, I know my duty to the kingdom. I fear no danger! Please, allow me to go to Yunpei!”
Zhan Bie’s declaration was a lifeline for the other officials. They quickly voiced their support, and even King Gu Cha sighed in relief. Without further debate, Zhan Bie was hastily appointed as the emissary to Yunpei.
Gu He, while one of the five major powers, was never strong militarily. Its wealth came from trade, not conquest. Like Ma Sui, Gu He prospered through its extensive commerce with independent states and border towns. However, the kingdom was weakened by a rigid social hierarchy, with a sharp divide between nobles and commoners, which eroded national unity. In times of crisis, Gu He and Ma Sui had always supported each other, and this alliance had kept them afloat in the treacherous political waters of the desert kingdoms.
But now… Gu He!
A nation whose king cannot protect it—how can he call himself a ruler?
A court whose ministers cannot guide it—how can they call themselves servants of the state?
Who says the nameless heroes of the world will be forgotten?
Who says the heroes of the battlefield will only be remembered on stone monuments?
Alas…
In the end, it’s all just a mix of hot blood and bitter exhaustion,
In the end, it’s all just flames of war and the taste of ashes.
* * *
Zhan Bie returned home that evening. He found his elderly mother preparing dinner, her frail figure moving slowly around the small kitchen. His heart tightened. He didn’t know if he would return from this mission, but he was certain it was his chance to achieve greatness. Though the world was in chaos, it was also full of opportunities, and he was determined to seize them.
“Mother, I’m leaving the city,” Zhan Bie said, approaching her.
His mother froze, her wrinkled face filling with sorrow, tears welling up in her tired eyes. Her hands trembled as she clutched his sleeve. “Son! You’re leaving me behind? Do you know how dangerous it is out there? What great thing do you think you’ll accomplish?” It was clear from her words that Zhan Bie had always been ambitious, dreaming of making a name for himself.
Zhan Bie smiled, guiding his mother to sit down. “Don’t worry, Mother. I will return, and when I do, I will have achieved great things! We won’t have to live in poverty anymore, or suffer from people’s scorn.”
His mother gazed at him with a heavy heart, knowing her son would not change his mind. She sighed deeply, her voice catching in her throat as she said, “At least let me finish cooking. Eat before you leave.” She returned to the stove, her frail form silhouetted against the worn yellow walls, creating a scene that tugged at Zhan Bie’s heartstrings.
Throughout history, heroes have often been unfilial children. What mother could do anything but bear her sadness in silence?
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