Inside the ruined home, a tense silence settled as the four Magoli soldiers stared at Jeet, whose angry eyes had been locked on them since the incident. They saw the insignia of the Eastern Military camp on his armor and realized that the soldier standing before them was not one of their own, but a soldier under the Eastern General. A sudden idea flickered in the soldiers' eyes—a way to get this outsider on their side and avoid further trouble.
The Ginmiao woman's voice became a soft, trembling sobbing, the second soldier looked at Jeet. His eyes held a smug, challenging glint. "So," he said, his voice a low sneer, "you don't know the rule of the army?"
"Perhaps, you five don't know the rule of the army," Jeet said, his voice a deep, chilling sound that cut through the silence. His eyes remained locked on theirs, a stare of cold, unwavering fury that held them in place. "Who is your captain and leader unit?" he demanded, the question not a plea, but a direct order that put them squarely in the path of the law they had so arrogantly claimed to follow.
The third soldier didn't answer Jeet's question. Instead, he flashed a quick, knowing smile and said, "Brother, we're all soldiers here, there's no need for a confrontation over such trash." His eyes flickered to the trembling woman. "If you want a taste of her, go ahead; we can wait until after you're finished. And while you're fucking her, we can take our sweet time patting the Ginmiao man."
The fourth soldier stared at Hye, his eyes burning with a chilling, personal fury. The skin around his eye was a black, blistered mess. "The bastard owes me a burning wound on his face," he said through gritted teeth, his voice a low growl of pure vengeance. In his mind, he was the victim, and Hye was the one who had wronged him.
Hye laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that held no humor at all. As soon as his laughter subsided, his voice came out furious, low, and filled with a terrifying rage. "I can bring Neu-Li City to her knees," he said, his eyes now cold and hard. "And if I don't see your heads being cut off with my own eyes today, I will completely destroy the entire Northern Army to ash."
The second soldier chuckled in amusement, a low, condescending sound. He looked Hye up and down, a sneer on his face, as he repeated the threat. "You? Bring Neu-Li City to her knees? Hahahaha..." His laughter filled the ruined house, a mocking echo of his complete disbelief and a testament to his utter foolishness. He saw only a bruised man standing opposite, not the man who had brought a city to its knees with a single whisper.
The fifth soldier sneer and refocused his attention back to Jeet. He was a greater threat to them than the broken, ranting man opposite him. "Stand with us," he offered, his voice laced with a cold, false camaraderie. "And I can guarantee that Captain Jochi will not treat you badly."
Jeet rolled his eyes at the soldiers, a look of profound contempt for their desperate offer. He didn't dignify their bribe with a reaction. His cold eyes remained locked on them as he spoke, his voice low and calm, "So, the captain you answer to is Jochi?" It was not a question, but a final, chilling confirmation that their miserable lives were about to be put in his hands.
Hye's laugh was not a sound of mirth, but of bitter, furious victory. The hollow, echoing sound filled the ruined home, spilling out into the streets. It was that unsettling, unnatural sound that drew the attention of the Magoli soldiers outside. Soon, the front door was crowded with curious faces as Khawn and a small group of his men arrived, their hands on their swords, wondering what dark amusement could have come from within.
Khawn quickly entered the ruined home, his curiosity instantly replaced by a grim understanding of the situation. He found Jeet and Hye locked in a tense standoff with four northern soldiers. Then he looked at the corner of the room and saw the horrifying scene: a half-naked woman and the small, still body of a toddler lying on the ground. In that moment, he finally understood why Hye was so angry. Hye's rage wasn't a rant born of madness; it was a righteous, justified fury born of a monstrous betrayal of their army's code.
The four Northern soldiers' faces went ashen as they saw the insignia of the Eastern soldiers on the armor of the men outside. Their arrogance was shattered in an instant. The confident sneers that had just been on their faces were now replaced by a cold, numbing dread. They quickly realized the odds were impossibly stacked against them. Four men could not possibly hope to defeat the group of Eastern soldiers now standing guard outside. They were trapped.
"Forget it," the second soldier said, his voice a sour mix of resignation and contempt. He rolled his eyes at the men and women blocking the doorway. "It's not worth it to start a fight over some trash." He looked at the dead woman and toddler, then back at Jeet, a vile, practiced sneer on his face. "Let's just say that they are... casualty of war..." His words hung in the air, a final, unrepentant declaration that tried to make a monstrous crime sound like a simple, necessary part of battle.
Jeet's lips trembled with anger as he fought to contain the rage that was threatening to consume him. His hands curled into a tight, white-knuckled fist. "Casualty of war?" he said, the words hissing through his gritted teeth. It was a furious, mocking echo of the soldier's vile excuse, a final, chilling sign that there would be no negotiation and no mercy.
"Siqi, Nachin!" Khawn's voice sounded, a sharp, cold command that cut through the silent, tense room. "Arrest these men!" He didn't have to say anything more. His men, who had seen the horror inside the ruined home, moved with swift, silent purpose. The four Northern soldiers, their faces now pale with a numbing dread, saw their fate seal before them as Khawn's men stepped forward to carry out their order.
Siqi and Nachin moved inside the ruined home with their men, their movements swift and purposeful. They advanced on the four Northern soldiers, who, with their bravado gone, offered little resistance. As they did, two female soldiers came forward, calm and efficient. They bound the hands of the first man, who was still out cold on the ground, and began to drag him out. The brutal chaos had been replaced by the cold, unyielding hand of military order.
The four Northern soldiers knew they were in no position to fight against the large group of Eastern soldiers now surrounding the house, so they didn't. They let themselves be bound, their arrogance gone, replaced by a cold, calculating resignation. They also knew that no matter what the situation, Captain Jochi would come to their rescue, just as he always had. They held onto this belief like a final, desperate prayer, confident that their captain would not let them face the consequences of their actions.
The fifth Northern soldier struggled as Siqi and three soldiers worked to bind his hands behind his back. His face was a mask of furious defiance, unwilling to go down without a fight. He looked up at Jeet, his voice loud and angry. "What are you charging us?" he demanded, as if this was all a terrible misunderstanding and not a direct consequence of a monstrous crime.
Jeet looked at the soldier, his gaze colder and harder than stone. "War crime," he said, his voice flat and final. He then rolled his eyes at the four Northern soldiers, a look of profound contempt for their desperate pleas and defiance. "Drag these dogs out!" he commanded, his voice a final, brutal order that ended all negotiations and sealed their fate.
As Siqi, Nachin, and their soldiers dragged the five northern soldiers out into the open, the street that had been empty was now crowded with civilians. These were the men and women whose houses had been search because they hadn't put white cloth on their doorsteps. They were forced to stand outside their homes while other soldiers conducted a search. The civilians were confused by the sight. They had expected to see a victorious army marching through their streets, not the shocking spectacle of Magoli soldiers dragging their own men out into the open for all to see. The lines between friend and foe, justice and brutality, had become hopelessly blurred.
Just then, Jochi and his men walked up, pushing through the stunned crowd. His eyes went wide with shock and fury as he took in the scene: his unit leader was out cold on the street, his face pale and still. Kneeling in the open, their hands bound, were four of his men, humiliated and defeated in front of both Magoli soldiers and Ginmiao civilians. He shoved the people aside, his rage a palpable force, and came face to face with Hye, Jeet, and Khawn, a silent challenge hanging in the air between them.
"Release my men immediately," Jochi's voice thundered, an aggressive demand that cut through the silent, tense street. His fists were clenched at his sides, his eyes blazing with a cold fury. He didn't care what had happened or what they had done. He saw only the humiliation of his men, and he was not a man to stand by and watch his subordinates be taken.
The corner of Hye's lip curved into a cold, contemptuous smile. He raised his head high, a challenging glint in his eyes as he looked Jochi in the face. "These dogs will die today," he said, his voice flat and final, a chilling promise that met Jochi's aggression with an unwavering death sentence.
"And what are their crime?" Jochi asked, his voice filled with a demanding authority. His eyes narrowed, challenging Hye to give him a reason, a legal justification for his actions, as if a formal charge could somehow absolve him of the brutal scene he was standing in the middle of.
"War crime," Hye said. His voice was flat and cold, the single word hanging in the air with the weight of an unassailable truth. It was a formal accusation, a brutal response to Jochi's demand for a reason, and a final, unforgiving condemnation.
Jochi rolled his eyes at Hye's pronouncement, his previous fury now mixed with a condescending sneer. "You might be the general strategist," he said, his voice laced with a cold arrogance, "but it doesn't mean you have the right to carry out punishment." He was no longer challenging the charge of war crime, but Hye's authority, a new and cynical tactic to protect his men.
Jeet looked at Jochi, a new understanding settling over him. This was the first time they had met, but in the way Jochi spoke and acted—his arrogant dismissal of a superior and his blatant disregard for the crime—Jeet finally understood. He saw why the soldiers under this arrogant captain felt they could operate above the rules that Chinua had so clearly laid out. The lawlessness wasn't an isolated incident; it was a reflection of their leader.
"May I remind you that," Jeet said, his voice flat and chillingly calm, "committed war crime punishment is death." It was not a threat, but a grim statement of fact, a final, unbending piece of a code that Jochi and his men had obviously forgotten.
Hearing Jeet's words, the four Northern soldiers' faces went pale. The cold, unbending finality in his voice was more terrifying than any battle cry. Their throats went dry, and they swallowed hard, a collective, helpless gesture of dawning dread. A cold sweat ran down their backs, and the arrogance and defiance that had sustained them just moments before vanished, replaced by the stark, numbing fear of impending death.
Jochi scoffed, the sound a mix of arrogance and pure disbelief. He stared directly at Jeet, a sneer on his face, and asked, "Says who?" The question wasn't a demand for a legal code or a written order. It was a direct, contemptuous challenge to Jeet's authority, a way of saying that unless a commander he recognized had given the order, Jeet's words were meaningless.
"Say I," Chinua said, and slowly, she moved forward, the soldiers parting for her as she entered the inner circle. She stood before Jochi, her presence a powerful and final answer to his foolish question.