The night was black as ink, the Yuan camp in the ravine cloaked in silence. The dying campfire flickered with faint embers, casting an eerie glow over the dark valley. Snores from the tents wove a rough nocturne.
Zijian crouched in the underbrush, clutching a short dagger taken from a Yuan soldier, its blade glinting coldly under starlight. His eyes never left the camp, his body stiff from holding position, but he dared not relax.
Time crawled in the stillness. Past midnight, the camp's lanterns dimmed, most soldiers asleep in their tents. Only four guards remained around the cart—two in front, two behind, forming a tight defensive ring.
"The Yuan's vigilance is stronger than expected," Zijian assessed silently. "Ma's importance must be extraordinary to warrant such attention. She's likely a high-ranking figure in the Red Turbans."
He held his breath, waiting. Trained in modern special forces tactics, he knew the optimal time for a night raid was the body's lowest ebb—between the third and fourth watch, when even seasoned soldiers succumbed to drowsiness.
As the night deepened and dew settled, the guards' alertness waned. One at the cart's rear clutched his stomach, grimacing. "Too much wine," he muttered, cursing. Glancing around, he slipped behind a bush to relieve himself, his back to Zijian's hiding spot.
The moment had come.
Zijian inhaled, muscles tensing, focus razor-sharp. Like a stalking panther, he glided toward the guard. His left hand clamped over the man's mouth, his right slashing the dagger across his throat.
Hot blood sprayed, soaking Zijian's arm. The guard struggled briefly, soundlessly, before collapsing. Zijian dragged the body into the bushes, covering it with leaves to avoid detection.
"One down, three to go." His heart pounded, sweat beading. This was his first deliberate, close-quarters kill. Though he'd fought in Gudong's defense, that was chaotic battle. This calculated act was new, and he forced down the unease, refocusing.
He crept back to the cart's rear. The other guard there was dozing, head bobbing. Zijian moved like a specter, closing in. At the perfect moment, he lunged, driving his dagger into the guard's neck.
A faint gasp escaped before the man slumped. Zijian eased him to the ground, silent as death.
"Two left at the front." He was about to circle around when a sound came from the cart.
Peering up, he saw the two front guards climb aboard, leaning over Ma. But their intent wasn't duty—it was sinister.
"What a beauty," one whispered, voice dripping with lust. "No matter her skills, under this drug, she's ours to play with."
The other chuckled. "The general's gone. Who'll know if we have some fun?"
They began tugging at Ma's clothes, their hands roving. Still unconscious, she was helpless.
Rage surged through Zijian, his blood boiling. In this era, a woman's honor was worth more than life. For Ma, with her likely pivotal role, such violation would be catastrophic.
He abandoned caution, slipping to the cart's side. As the guards' lust blinded them, he leaped aboard. His dagger plunged upward into one's chest. Blood gushed, the guard's eyes wide with disbelief as he fell.
The second guard started to shout, but Zijian kicked him down, slashing his throat. Blood splattered the cart's interior, painting a grim tableau. Both bodies lay stacked, eyes staring in death.
"Beasts, you deserved it," Zijian growled, his fury easing. He jumped down, dragged the four corpses into the bushes, and hastily covered them before returning to check on Ma.
She remained unconscious, her clothes disheveled but unviolated. Relieved, Zijian wrapped her in his outer robe, hoisted her onto his back, and slipped away along a hidden path.
Now was the time to escape. The guard change was hours off, giving him enough time to reach a safe distance.
---
Zijian trekked through the forest, Ma on his back, the night his shield. She was light, but the relentless march left him panting, his steps faltering. Thorns and vines scratched his face and arms, leaving faint cuts.
"Can't stop," he told himself. "If the Yuan find her gone, they'll hunt us down. We need distance."
After four or five li, a horse's whinny broke the silence. Zijian froze, ducking into bushes. Listening, he realized it wasn't pursuit but a lone horse wandering the woods.
"Heaven's help!" He gently set Ma down and approached the horse.
A brown steed, unsaddled, bore old scars on its neck—likely a warhorse escaped from battle. Such horses were trained, steady, and perfect for escape.
Zijian moved slowly, cooing softly, stroking its mane. "I'm counting on you to save us."
The horse, sensing his sincerity, lowered its head. Zijian mounted, retrieved Ma, and secured her across the horse's back, holding her steady as he spurred it into a gallop.
"With this horse, our chances soar," he thought, though danger still loomed.
He slashed branches with his dagger, tying them to the horse's tail to sweep away tracks. He rolled stones onto the path to slow pursuers—modern tactics proving invaluable.
But as his guard eased, urgent hoofbeats sounded behind. Glancing back, his heart sank—over a dozen Yuan cavalry were in pursuit, arrows whistling past, some grazing his ear.
"Damn, faster than I thought!" He crouched low, minimizing his profile, urging the horse faster.
"This is the Jiangnan region—dense waterways, populated. A village can't be far," he calculated, scanning for refuge.
An arrow struck the horse's haunch, blood streaming down. The beast screamed, its pain and fear driving it to a frenzied sprint. Zijian clung to Ma, ensuring she didn't fall, searching desperately for cover.
Then, through the morning mist, the outline of a dilapidated village emerged.
"Salvation!" Zijian steered toward it, heart lifting.
---
As he neared, the village's ruin became clear—crumbling houses draped in vines, roofs collapsed, weeds rampant. A stench of decay and dampness hung in the air, the place silent as death.
"Abandoned, likely from war or plague," Zijian judged. "Perfect for hiding."
He galloped in, seeking a sturdy structure. At the village's northeast corner, he found a relatively intact house—cracked walls but standing, a partially collapsed roof, and backed by a bamboo grove for escape.
Dismounting, he carried Ma inside, hiding her in a corner under scavenged rags. Untying the branches from the horse's tail, he patted its neck. "Go, don't linger."
The horse whinnied softly and bolted into the mist.
Outside, Yuan hoofbeats and curses closed in. "Where are they? They can't be far!" "Search every house!" "Find the woman and the thief—behead them!" The voices dripped with malice.
Zijian peered through a wall crack. The Yuan had spread out, searching house by house, their arrows littering the ground, proof of their relentless chase.
The house was dim and damp, cluttered with rusted tools and rotted cloth, rats skittering through. Zijian gripped his dagger, breathing shallowly, ready to fight.
Suddenly, Ma stirred with a faint moan, her eyes fluttering open, dazed and confused from the drug.
Zijian, alarmed, rushed to her, covering her mouth gently. "Quiet, the Yuan are outside."
Ma nodded faintly, understanding. He released her, finger to lips, signaling silence.
"Who are you? Why save me?" she whispered, barely moving her lips.
"I'm Zijian," he murmured, close to her ear. "I saw the Yuan take you—couldn't stand by."
Surprise flickered in her eyes as she studied her rescuer. "Thank you," she whispered, her gaze sincere.
A Yuan soldier's shadow loomed at the window. Zijian's heart raced, sweat beading. He gripped his dagger, pressing against the wall, ready to strike.
"Just hold on a moment longer," he thought, signaling Ma to stay silent.
Outside, hoofbeats and shouts rose and fell, near and far. The Yuan's search continued, and this crumbling house was their last refuge. A single wall stood between life and death.
Zijian knew every second would decide their fate. Beyond this, his ability to return Ma to safety and integrate into this era would shape history's course.
Dawn's first light pierced the clouds, falling on the desolate village. A new day loomed, their fate teetering between light and darkness.