Chapter 45: The Past (V)

Chapter 45: The Past (V)

In the years that followed, Le Wuya would recall that day countless times.

When he made that suggestion, Le Wuya was actually quite nervous.

He had brought Damuqi back as a captive, earning much praise, but not a single word of commendation from his father.

Now, still a teenager, he was a bit greedy—he wanted both the credit and his father's genuine joy and approval.

Le Wuya lowered his head like a shy little girl, gently scuffing the sand under his feet.

If Father would be a little more pleased, then he and Little Phoenix...

Before he could finish the thought, Le Wuya heard his father's calm voice: "You Que, raise your head."

Le Wuya looked up and met Le Qianzhang's expressionless gaze, devoid of joy or anger.

Le Qianzhang asked directly: "Who gave you this idea?"

Not knowing why his father reacted this way, Le Wuya lifted his robe and knelt, answering truthfully: "Father, it was your son's own idea."

For a long time, there was no reply from his father.

Le Wuya pursed his lips, a little nervous.

After a long while, it was Pei Ying's exclamation that eased the tense atmosphere in the tent: "How formidable the younger generation is!"

He stepped forward and pulled Le Wuya up from the ground: "If our own foolish boy had even a tenth of Wuya's cleverness, I wouldn't worry."

Then, Pei Ying placed a rough, warm hand on Le Wuya's head and patted it: "Go play with Pei Mingqi. Your father and I will talk further."

Le Wuya breathed a sigh of relief and withdrew side by side with Pei Mingqi.

Once outside the tent, he quickly wiped away the faint look of discouragement and gave Pei Mingqi a bright smile: "Come on, I'll show you the big treasure I caught!"

His smile was as sweet and pure as ever.

But at this moment, Pei Mingqi was in no mood to appreciate it.

He said gloomily: "That trick of yours was quite vicious."

In Pei Mingqi's impression, Le Wuya was pampered, clever, kind-hearted, and quick-witted.

None of those versions of Le Wuya matched the one before him.

Pei Mingqi averted his gaze slightly, unsure how to deal with this new side of him.

Le Wuya stopped smiling: "What do you mean?"

Pei Mingqi was silent.

Le Wuya hadn't expected that his good intentions would be so thoroughly misunderstood.

If it were anyone else, he wouldn't care.

But of all people, it was Little Phoenix!

He pulled Pei Mingqi to a secluded spot and jabbed him hard between the eyebrows: "All is fair in war—have you forgotten everything we learned since childhood? War is about using tricks and taking risks, a matter of life and death. This time he fell into my hands, but what if I had fallen into his? I barely made it back alive, and you're giving me the cold shoulder for an outsider?"

Pei Mingqi was not that naive.

Of course he knew one must be cruel to enemies.

He knew that when two tribes were at war, one should stop at nothing to end hostilities.

But Pei Mingqi was not Le Wuya's follower; he had his own thoughts.

In his view, Damuqi was a loyal and upright man who remained steadfast even when captured by the enemy.

That Le Wuya could casually pin such a vicious label on him—one that would ruin a soldier forever—made him feel utterly alien.

He and Le Wuya actually found themselves in strange agreement.

If someone else were so vicious, he wouldn't care either.

So why did it have to be Little Crow?!

Le Wuya, on the other hand, had his own calculations.

The current emperor had ascended the throne young, and after enjoying all worldly pleasures in his first thirty years, he grew utterly bored and began planning for his afterlife early, ignoring state affairs and devoting himself to Daoism, only wishing for ascension.

The crown prince had been holding the sword as regent for over a decade.

Le Wuya knew well that any emperor would be more or less wary of those who held military power. When Pei's mother, newly pregnant with Little Phoenix, was ordered to bring her child to the capital. Whether this was imperial favor or the emperor's hidden suspicion was worth pondering.

Dayu was like this, and the Jing tribe probably couldn't escape the same pattern.

Loyal men can serve as honest officials and capable ministers, but they cannot be emperors or chieftains.

Seeing Pei Mingqi glum, Le Wuya looked around and lowered his voice: "Among the Jing, the Da family and the Helian family are united—sharing the same fate and honor. If Damuqi defects, the Helian family will surely be implicated. Do you remember the surname of that fool sent to patrol the border? Huyan! Huyan is a major Jing clan, part of the royal family. He deliberately leaked Damuqi's whereabouts to me. Don't tell me you don't understand what this means! The Da and Helian families must have made the Huyan family wary of them!"

"If I can succeed in sowing discord and bring down both the Da and Helian families, that merit would be far greater than capturing a minor general like Damuqi! Do you get that?!"

Seeing Pei Mingqi still wooden and mute, Le Wuya nearly died of anger. He glared at him for a moment, then gave him a vicious kick to the knee, and as Pei bent over in pain, he stormed off with a flick of his sleeve.

Pei Mingqi, seeing how furious he was, felt a pang of pity and quickly hopped on one foot after him, but he was too slow and grabbed nothing.

Le Wuya ran to the training ground, and in a fit of pettiness, shot a hundred arrows into the target, but his anger still hadn't subsided. He felt like plucking every last one of Pei Mingqi's phoenix feathers clean off.

Everyone in Tianlang Camp knew the young general had a fiery temper.

His lips were rosy and handsome, but when he cursed, he was vicious.

Not the crude sort of cursing that goes 'fuck your father', but quick-tongued and full of witty remarks—before one could even process one insult, the next few would come hammering down.

After a round of scolding, you'd be drenched in sweat.

Later, they learned their lesson.

As soon as Le Wuya got angry, they would all stay well clear of him.

In the entire camp, only Jiang He was unafraid of him.

First, his mind was slow; when the young general insulted him indirectly, he couldn't quite understand.

Second, he knew that brooding and overdoing archery were both bad for your health.

"Young General Le," Jiang He walked up and interrupted Le Wuya's archery spree, "that Damuqi still says he wants to see you."

Le Wuya didn't feel like cursing and kept his eyes on the bullseye: "No."

Jiang He just replied bluntly, "Oh."

He didn't leave either, just stared straight at him, plotting: if he snatched his bow and ran, could Le Wuya catch him and kick his butt?

But Le Wuya nocked an arrow but held back from firing.

He suddenly asked, "Why does Damuqi always want to see me?"

Jiang He was spacing out; it took him a moment to realize Le Wuya was asking him, and answered truthfully, "I don't know."

"Did he say anything?"

"I didn't hear him say anything, just that he was singing."

"...Singing?"

Jiang He had learned the Jing language alongside Le Wuya, but his speaking was better than his listening, so he said uncertainly, "Sounds like a song about being homesick."

That vague answer got Le Wuya curious.

He set down his bow and arrow and strolled over to where Damuqi was held, and caught the sound of Damuqi singing.

Dusk was falling, the twilight deepening.

His voice wasn't pleasant—hoarse and forlorn, yet it fit the yellow sky and sluggish clouds perfectly.

"A jug of old wine slung over my shoulder, I ride my horse, waiting for the girl to come after me; but it's my mother who comes running out, she ties a talisman on me and tells me to hurry home—"

Le Wuya listened, a bit dazed, thinking the tune sounded familiar.

When the guard saw Le Wuya hanging around, he came right over: "Young General, what brings you here?"

Le Wuya was quick—he caught the guarded, dismissive tone in the man's words.

He said, keeping his cool, "I just finished practice and was walking around when I heard the noise. Is that Damuqi singing?"

"Yes."

Le Wuya asked casually, "Has he given anything up?"

"No."

Le Wuya gave a light laugh: "Stubborn as a mule, that one."

With that, he shook his head and turned to leave.

Seeing that Le Wuya seemed to just be chatting idly with no intention to go in and interrogate, the soldier secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Soon after, the soldier bringing food to Damuqi arrived.

Le Wuya had calculated well.

It was still the cusp of winter and spring; night fell early and the light was dim.

He had Jiang He sneak up from behind and knock the soldier unconscious, then he stripped the soldier's uniform off and went back, bold as brass.

Since the melted snow and mud hadn't been cleared, keeping his eyes on the path made perfect sense.

The guard soldier left the entrance wide open, letting Le Wuya right in.

This tent was a temporary prison, with hitching posts coated in tung oil nailed into the ground, incredibly sturdy; iron chains as thick as a finger wrapped around Damuqi, plus fine steel shackles binding his hands and feet tightly.

The weight of the chains alone was astonishing; if the prisoner weren't a tough man, he'd probably be crushed to the point of internal injury.

Yet Damuqi, in just a thin shirt, sat there without looking too strained.

His muscles bulged through the thin fabric, and his long-neglected face had grown a thick, unruly stubble.

But his eyes were still as sharp as blades.

When he saw that the person entering was Le Wuya in a soldier's disguise, his sharp eyes lifted, scanned Le Wuya's face, and then paused.

As their gazes met, his expression went from knife-sharp to gentle as spring water.

Le Wuya had been escorting Damuqi the whole time, giving him wine laced with sedatives to keep him asleep all day, not letting anyone talk to him or allowing him to stay awake.

If he were clear-headed, he'd probably try something.

Le Wuya never underestimated an enemy, so after entering the tent, he didn't approach, but stood at a distance, sizing him up.

After they stared at each other for a while, Damuqi suddenly laughed. "...Good, good, good."

After blurting "good" three times, Damuqi said, "Young hero... I yield."

Damuqi could speak some Chinese, but his speech was halting, probably from lack of practice.

Le Wuya, carrying the food box, stepped closer: "You insisted on seeing me, and now that I'm here, all you say is 'I yield'?"

He asked the question but kept his hands busy.

Only a tent wall separated them; if no one heard any activity inside, it would definitely raise suspicion.

He took out two steamed buns and a dish of meat with vegetables, and walked up to Damuqi.

They certainly wanted Damuqi to survive, so the food they gave him was the best in the camp.

Damuqi ignored the question and asked, "You... whose son are you?"

Le Wuya split the bun, stuffed it with meat, and brought it to his mouth, answering, "I'm the son of General Zhaoyi, Le Qianzhang."

"What... what name?"

"Le Wuya."

"Yaya?"

"Wuya."

Le Wuya was also surprised that he was calmly feeding the immobilized Damuqi and chatting casually with him.

He figured at best he'd get cussed out; at worst, this tough guy would spit in his face.

Hearing the name, Damuqi again smiled in an unfathomable, satisfied way: "Oh, it's Yaya."

Le Wuya had never been called that before; feeling suddenly awkward, he fed him another mouthful of meat: "You're trying to get chummy with me—do you think I'll let you go?"

Damuqi chewed the meat, his eyes still staring straight at him, as if he had endless things to say to him.

Le Wuya waited quietly for him to say something.

Begging for mercy—surely not.

Surrender—unlikely either.

Damuqi had a hearty appetite; he finished the meal in just a few quick bites.

To Le Wuya's surprise, he only gave him two words: "Scram."

Le Wuya's expectations suddenly fell flat, and he raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Kid, you've got potential. Don't... don't throw that away." He closed his eyes. "I'm tired of seeing you."

Damuqi truly was tired of seeing him again.

That night, Damuqi bit off his own tongue.

He silently bit off his tongue, held the broken piece in his mouth, and like a wild beast, tilted his head back, swallowing his own blood mouthful after mouthful, without making a single sound.

It wasn't until dawn, when the guard entered the tent, that they were horrified to find Damuqi had already died from blood loss.

His death was so brutal and final that Le Wuya couldn't help but wonder.

...As if he had lived only to take one last look at him.

After General Damuqi was abducted from the camp, the Bronze Horse forces would surely tighten their defenses for a while.

But Le Wuya was meticulous; he hadn't revealed his identity or whereabouts, and even the arrows he used weren't of Dayu make. To the Jing tribe, they didn't even know who had taken Damuqi away.

The Bronze Horse city, like a headless chicken, would keep up their vigilance for a while, then gradually relax when no further information came.

Damuqi was a reckless and crude man who had plenty of enemies.

Who knows if some survivors from the Ranqiu Massacre years ago had escaped down the mountain, gathered forces, and sought revenge?

That brief lapse in vigilance after Bronze Horse's initial alert was the perfect opportunity for Dayu to attack.

According to the troop deployment map Le Wuya had drawn, Le Qianzhang and Pei Ying led the troops, launching a direct night assault on Bronze Horse. Pei Mingqi was also taken along, leaving Le Wuya alone to guard the rear and handle military provisions with Deputy General Yu.

They couldn't afford to miss the opportunity. Even if not for framing Damuqi, capturing the Bronze Horse county would greatly benefit the war between Dayu and the Jing tribe.

Le Wuya thought he wouldn't care about Damuqi's death.

As long as he was brought back to Dayu alive, he had no further use. If he chose to live, fine; if he sought death, there was nothing to be done—only to bury him in a geomantically auspicious spot in a foreign land.

But Le Wuya, for some reason, couldn't let it go.

In the dead of night, a hoarse song would suddenly ring in his ears:

"Chasing after me is my mother, she tied a witch charm on me, telling me to return soon—"

Strange—he had only heard it once, yet Le Wuya could recite the lyrics clearly.

Restless, Le Wuya handed over the training of the Tianlang Camp to the honest Jiang He, while he himself went on patrols, rooting out Jing spies.

During wartime, intelligence gathering was inevitable. Many spies disguised themselves as refugees, lurking in the city, waiting to send information back to their homeland.

After half a year of catching spies, Le Wuya had developed a knack for spotting fellow spies, and he never came back empty-handed.

Every time he caught a spy, he would wring information out of them.

For example, just what kind of person Damuqi really was.

He captured seven or eight spies.

Some said he was a reincarnation of a ferocious Arhat; others said he was rough and tyrannical, often whipping his soldiers; some claimed he was bloodthirsty, once slaughtering an entire mountain's people over a baseless rumor.

In short, he sounded like no good.

But from all these bad reports, Le Wuya still picked out something that piqued his interest.

He lightly touched the bloodied cheek of a spy with the tip of his whip: "What baseless rumor could make Damuqi fly off the handle like that?"

That spy, after a night of Le Wuya's personal 'care,' had long lost his defiant edge and tremblingly spilled the beans.

"Damuqi's family... had lost a child. He went up Mount Ranqiu... to look for the child."

"His own child?"

"No, it was General Da Yue's child."

Le Wuya found his attitude intriguing.

This spy was from the Jin faction of the Jing tribe. He spoke of Damuqi with disdain but mentioned Da Yue with reverence. The shift in attitude was truly unusual.

Le Wuya had heard of Da Yue before.

Word had it that she was the war goddess of the Jing tribe. According to Jing customs, women favored red veils, earning her the title 'Red-Veiled General.'

He would have liked to face her in battle.

Unfortunately, five years ago, she died in Yangshan City from complications following childbirth.

Le Wuya asked him, "Did he find the child?"

The spy clearly harbored deep hatred for Damuqi and gritted his teeth: "He had no proof at all, but he stormed up the mountain and hacked off over a hundred heads!"

Le Wuya: "What was the child's name?"

The spy shook his head angrily.

How would someone like him know such things?

Unable to dig up more, Le Wuya was sighing when he saw Jiang He approaching with a blank expression.

Le Wuya figured something had happened in camp: "What's wrong?"

Jiang He said flatly, "We took Bronze Horse."

The good news was so at odds with his expression that Le Wuya was caught off guard: "...Huh?"

Jiang He added, "Young General Pei is back and looking for you."

Le Wuya sprang to his feet.

Before Pei Mingqi left, Le Wuya had really been angry with him, even keeping a stiff face at the send-off.

But a month and a half had flown by; he couldn't stay mad at the Little Phoenix, just back from battle.

"Quick, quick, get me some water!" Le Wuya spread his hands, caked with dried blood, and said excitedly, "Help me wash this off!"