Volume One: Flames at the Border Chapter Twenty-Four: Taking the Initiative

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The gift from Chen Qingyun was so extravagant that Deng’er felt uneasy. She looked up and asked He Yu, “Husband, Lady Chen sent her gift, but she didn’t come herself. Since we’ve accepted her gift, should we go to her residence tomorrow to thank her in person?”

He Yu fell silent, sighed deeply, and said, “Let it be. This sentiment can be repaid another time. We’ll wait a few days before dealing with it.”

Toward Chen Qingyun’s infatuation, He Yu felt nothing but sympathy and gratitude—there was no better way to resolve her one-sided longing than to let time gradually cool it.

As the two were exchanging idle words, a sudden blast of bronze horns sounded from the newly built watchtower in the fortress.

“This is bad—Tianxiong Fort is making a move!”

Tianxiong Fort had suffered a setback at Xiemaling and had been threatening revenge ever since, but their bluster had so far been empty; half a month had passed without sign of troops. Still, within Chen Family Fortress, the leaders—Chen Jing, He Yu, Li Ling, and others—had never dared to lower their guard. They had made thorough preparations to withstand a surprise attack from Tianxiong Fort. Today was He Yu’s wedding, a day of great joy in the fortress. Outwardly, defenses were relaxed, but inwardly, vigilance was as high as ever.

Tianxiong Fort, having learned of the Chen family’s celebration, had secretly assembled elite troops intending to seize the fortress by night. Yet as soon as their men reached the moat, the sentries in the watchtower spotted them. The covert attack foiled, they had no choice but to launch a direct assault.

After days of false alarms, the wolf had finally come. The entire fortress sprang into action, swift and orderly, shifting seamlessly into a state of battle.

He Yu cursed inwardly, “I went to so much trouble to give Deng’er a grand wedding, and now, just as my wish is half fulfilled, Tianxiong Fort ruins it all. Damn their luck—I’ll make them pay for this.”

Deng’er quickly changed out of her wedding attire, strapped on her short sword, and helped He Yu don the armor that Li Jun had just delivered, her anxiety mounting as she saw her husband out the door.

He Yu rested his hand on the hilt at his waist and told Deng’er, “Bolt the main gate. I’m going to check on the south gate.”

It was already midnight. The south gate’s tower blazed with torches, lighting the scene like broad daylight.

Li Jun had arrived first and was patrolling the defenses. Upon seeing He Yu, he called out, “Yu Zhi, Tianxiong Fort failed to catch us off guard and has set up camp outside the city. I suspect they’ll wait until dawn to attack. Today is your wedding day—you should stay with your wife. Let your old brother hold them off for a while. There’s no harm in it.”

Li Jun was just past thirty, but he had followed the old master of the fortress into countless campaigns since childhood and was no stranger to war. Not a trace of tension or fear could be seen in his weathered, chiseled features.

He Yu didn’t reply, but gazed intently into the distance. The night outside the city was thick and gloomy, pierced by the shouts of men and the cries of horses. Nearly a hundred camps had sprung up just three yards from the moat, with warhorses tethered to stakes before the gates.

At that moment, Chen Jing and Chen Qingyun arrived, both dressed in battle gear. From their words, He Yu learned that steward Li Ling had already taken his young son Li Yu to inspect the other three gates.

Chen Qingyun stole a glance at He Yu, her heart twisting with bitterness. She kept her face cold, deliberately refusing to speak to him.

He Yu understood, but pretended not to notice. Chen Jing’s expression was grim. Striking his palm with his riding crop, he declared, “It seems Tianxiong Fort is throwing everything they have at us. They won’t withdraw unless they destroy our Chen Family Fortress.”

Li Jun snorted, “We’re not an easy target, either. It’s not certain who will prevail.”

He Yu looked up at the sky—no stars, no moon, utter darkness—the blackest hour before dawn. The noise from the camps below was fading, punctuated only by the clang of watchmen’s clappers. The enemy had marched all night, muffling their horses’ hooves and their men’s voices, traveling from many miles away only to fail in their surprise attack. Now, both men and mounts must be exhausted.

He Yu considered and said, “Master, Tianxiong Fort is camped outside, certain we won’t dare attack. They’re sleeping soundly, ready to storm us by daylight. We should strike first, break their momentum…”

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Chen Jing’s face clouded with worry. “Diao Bao is a cunning fox. Could this be a trap to lure us out?”

Li Jun replied, “Master, trap or not, we’ll take only a few men. Let me and Yu Zhi lead a quick assault. If we win, so much the better; if not, we can still get away safely.”

He Yu thought it over. “Let’s not take any men at all. Just you and me, Li brother—we’ll sneak into their camp and at least bring back a prisoner.”

Having been a special forces soldier, he was thoroughly familiar with such small-scale raids and captures. Li Jun’s suggestion to raid the camp stirred his own fighting spirit, and he readily agreed.

Chen Jing, knowing He Yu’s martial prowess, was confident that even if things went awry, neither he nor Li Jun would lose their lives. He nodded his consent.

Once the decision was made, He Yu and Li Jun each changed into black, close-fitting outfits—no armor—armed with a round shield and a short blade apiece. They slipped quietly down from the wall and concealed themselves in the shadows.

Chen Qingyun kept her eyes fixed on their hiding place, her face full of worry.

At Chen Jing’s signal, all the torches on the wall were extinguished, plunging the surroundings into darkness. He Yu leaned close to Li Jun and said, “Brother Bojun, take my sword with you.”

Li Jun was taken aback, a wave of emotion rising in his chest. He had long heard that He Yu possessed a legendary sword called Jue Que—this must be it. At such a moment of life and death, to offer up so treasured a weapon showed true brotherhood.

“Yu Zhi, your skill far surpasses mine. I’ll accept it without protest,” Li Jun said, taking the sword and following He Yu quietly toward the riverbank.

Though it was April, the air was still biting cold, and a thin layer of ice coated the moat. A small wooden boat had already been prepared along the bank, a rope tied to its stern for a quick retreat.

They boarded the boat, crouched low, and silently rowed to the opposite shore, unseen by those on the far bank. Once ashore, they crept toward the enemy camp.

After about twenty paces, a sentry challenged them, “Password!”

He Yu sneered, “To hell with you,” and, quickening his pace, drew his blade and struck the sentry’s head with a single, fatal blow.

Seeing He Yu had started the fight, Li Jun shouted at the top of his lungs, “He Yu of Chen Family Fortress is here! Come and meet your end if you dare!” He knew little of social niceties, but when it came to battle, he was a natural. His shout sent a jolt of fear through the enemy camp.

After the battle at Xiemaling, He Yu had left Tianxiong Fort with a severe psychological scar, his reputation growing more fearsome with each retelling. Hearing that He Yu was raiding their camp, the enemy troops scrambled to hide in their tents.

Seeing Li Jun’s intimidation working, He Yu also shouted, “He Yu is here—who wants to die?” The two of them darted through the camp like specters, killing whomever they encountered. Fearing a deeper ambush, they did not venture too far in.

Li Jun swung Jue Que, slashing several horse tethers, and with a few deft strokes stabbed the horses’ haunches. The startled beasts charged madly through the camp; one crashed into a pit, impaled on bamboo spikes.

A chill ran through He Yu’s heart—clearly, the enemy camp was riddled with deadly traps.

Suddenly, the camp erupted in alarm as dozens of blade-laden siege wagons rolled forth, their fronts bristling with sharp steel spikes.

Li Jun, covered in blood, grabbed a burning log from a campfire and flung it in all directions, scattering embers and sowing chaos throughout the enemy camp.

He Yu had managed to seize a prisoner, tucking him under his arm as he shouted, “Brother Bojun, don’t linger—let’s retreat!”

Li Jun understood at once, brandishing Jue Que to clear a path as they rushed back to the riverbank, just about to board the boat.

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The prisoner struggled wildly. He Yu reversed his grip on his blade and struck the captive with the hilt, knocking him unconscious and tossing him onto the boat.

Just then, the twang of bowstrings filled the air and arrows rained down. He Yu flattened himself on the riverbank, waiting for Li Jun to catch up.

Suddenly, with a muffled groan, Li Jun toppled headfirst, an arrow buried in his chest up to the shaft.

He Yu cried out in alarm. The enemy had formed up and, if they loosed another volley, both he and Li Jun would surely die.

Knowing the peril, Li Jun threw Jue Que to He Yu and shouted, “Yu Zhi, go! Don’t mind me—I’ll fight them off myself!”

He Yu didn’t reply. With a swift roll, he grabbed Li Jun, saying, “Brother, stop shouting. If we die, we die together. Damn it, we’ve already made them pay.”

He Yu dragged Li Jun onto the boat, fending off arrows with his shield while desperately pulling the rope back toward the opposite shore. Arrows thudded, drilling holes in the thin ice.

With a splash, the whole river shuddered—the force of He Yu’s pull had capsized the boat, plunging all three—He Yu, Li Jun, and their prisoner—into the icy water.

The moat was over twenty feet deep; as soon as they hit the water, they sank beneath the surface, chilled to the bone.

Fortunately, both men could swim. With a swift dive and a gasp, they reached the far shore.

The arrows were too light; underwater, they traveled less than two feet before floating harmlessly to the surface.

Under the cover of night and wind, the enemy dared not pursue too closely, loosing arrows at random and cursing as they withdrew.

Dragging their prisoner, He Yu and Li Jun returned to the fortress. When Chen Jing heard what had happened, he broke out in a cold sweat.

Li Jun, dejected, said, “We were almost back when I tripped and took an arrow to the chest. If Yu Zhi hadn’t risked his life for me, I might never have returned.” Despite his words, there was not a hint of fear on his face, only a touch of vexation.

“A true man,” He Yu thought, giving him a silent thumbs-up, then recounted Li Jun’s shouts and their wild charge through the enemy camp. Chen Jing nodded in approval.

Hearing this, Li Jun’s face shone with a trace of pride, and he cast a grateful look at He Yu. Both men were soaked to the skin, shivering with cold, until servants came to help them change into dry clothes.

He Yu and Li Jun’s daring raid had left Chen Qingyun’s heart entirely with He Yu, never at peace for a single moment. Hearing how dangerous it had been, she couldn’t help but blame, “Li Bojun is all courage and no sense—he nearly got Lord He killed.”

For a woman, loving a man often needs no reason; not loving a man means every reason not to.

Chen Qingyun herself did not understand why she was so enthralled by He Yu—missing him for even a day felt like losing her soul.

She knew that He Yu had hurried to marry precisely to put an end to her affections. She had indeed been angry, feigning illness to avoid the wedding and vowing never to speak to him again. But clearly, this vow was so weak she herself didn’t believe it.

Li Ling, having heard of their successful raid, brought Li Yu to question them. Seeing that his son’s wound was not serious, he said nothing further, issued a few instructions, and went off to continue his rounds. The Li father and son remained deeply committed to the affairs of the fortress.