We moved under a sky split by iron clouds, the air heavy with the stink of wet earth and scorched straw. My men marched in silence now — no songs, no boasts, just the slow rhythm of feet that had learned war was not glory, only endurance.
Zheng's scattered forces had holed up in a crumbling fortress north of the old Nanyan trade road. I let them believe we'd come by the obvious route, pushing through the main pass where they clustered their last archers. My scouts even let themselves be seen, fleeing from a few staged skirmishes.
Meanwhile, under cover of night, I split the core of my Tigers and Hu's infantry through goat tracks on the eastern ridges. By the second dawn, we stood behind Zheng's lines, his wagons and tired sentries blinking in astonishment as death bore down from an angle they hadn't dreamed.
Zheng tried to rally them. I saw him on horseback, armor dented, plume half torn away, his mouth twisting around hoarse orders.
His men wavered — then broke. The weight of weeks of flight, starvation, the fear that hung around my banners like grave dust — it all cracked them open. They scattered, some clawing at each other in panic to be first through the half-collapsed gates.
I rode through it calmly. The thing under my ribs purred. Each time I met a fleeing soldier's eyes, something in me smiled — and often they dropped their weapons without a word.
In the chaos, I saw Zheng's personal guard trying to carve a path out along a dry creek bed. I gave the signal. Hu's men closed like a noose, shields overlapping, blades thrusting low. Screams echoed off the stone. In the middle of it all, Zheng's horse reared, struck by a pike. He tumbled, rolling hard, and didn't rise.
By the time I reached him, he lay on his back in trampled reeds, blood trickling from one temple. His eyes fluttered open, dazed. For a heartbeat, I almost thought him a child — stunned by how small his face looked up close, his lips dry and parted.
"My kingdom…" he rasped. "You've… gutted it…"
"No," I said softly, leaning close. "Your own pride did that. I just finished the work."
His hand clenched on my boot as if to plead. Then went slack. My Tigers hauled him up roughly, binding his arms.
But the war almost slipped through my fingers even then.
Hours later, as we secured the fortress, Shen Yue came riding hard from the rear column. Her face was white with fury. Han Qing rode behind her, dragging two of Wu Kang's generals by ropes tied tight to their saddles. The men's armor was battered, one cheek already split open from a mailed fist.
"They were trying to turn our second supply line south," Shen Yue spat. "Sent riders to torch the last granaries before we could claim them. If they'd succeeded, Zheng's men would've had their opening to flee east. We would've lost him."
General Dou sneered through blood-flecked teeth. "You think this is yours alone to carve, Fourth Prince? The First Prince will see these lands restored to proper hands. Better they burn than bow to your—"
I didn't let him finish. A small gesture — two fingers lifting slightly. My guards struck him across the mouth so hard teeth clattered to the dirt. He slumped, groaning.
Hu watched without comment. Zhao only raised an eyebrow. Even they seemed content to let my ruthlessness keep the game simple.
By dusk, we stood in the fortress courtyard where Zheng had tried his last stand. Bodies lay draped over shattered carts, blood seeping into grooves cut by old wheels. The wind carried crows on lazy currents, black shapes settling in the rafters to watch us with glittering eyes.
Shen Yue leaned on her saddle, looking more tired than I'd ever seen. "It's done," she whispered. "The southern line is crushed. Wu Kang's snakes have shown their hand — we can root them properly now. Even Wu Jin's men can't deny it."
Han Qing grunted, wiping his sword on a corpse's cloak. "Too many bodies for even the capital's scribes to hide. This victory — it'll echo all the way to Ling An."
I stood there, breathing in the scent of victory — blood, wood smoke, old iron. The thing inside me swelled, content, almost smug. I felt it coil tighter in my chest like a cat atop a warm stone.
For a fleeting instant, I closed my eyes and let it press through me. The soldiers nearby shifted, murmuring to each other, unable to name the chill that crawled up their spines. When I opened my eyes again, I caught Shen Yue staring at me with a look that was not quite fear — but far from comfort.
It was then a messenger came. A slim young rider, robes dusty, throat bobbing nervously. He held out a small lacquered box.
"A letter, Your Highness. Brought under white banner. From… the Princess."
My mouth twisted. I took it, broke the seal with a thumb.
Inside was a delicate slip of silk, the ink still sharp and elegant despite the rough journey. Just a few lines.
Fourth Prince Wu An,
In the name of the Southern Kingdom and for the preservation of its remaining sons, I request audience under terms of peace.
There is yet ground between ruin and surrender, if we are wise enough to tread it.
— Lianhua
I let the paper roll shut between my fingers.
Shen Yue leaned close, reading my face more than the letter. "Peace? Now? After she watched Zheng's bones break in the marsh?"
"She's patient," I said softly. "She thinks three moves ahead. This isn't surrender. It's an opening."
Han Qing frowned. "Or a ploy to buy time while they gather more rebels."
"Perhaps." I tucked the letter into my sleeve. "But it's a table I'll sit at. Better to see her eyes when she schemes than guess at it from leagues away."
Night fell with a chill bite. Fires rose in the captured fortress, soldiers laughing for the first time in weeks, drunk on triumph as much as stolen rice wine. Above us the crows circled still, settling on broken walls, their cries sharp and cold.
I stood alone by an old fountain, watching my reflection ripple. For a moment it didn't look like me at all — something darker, taller, with eyes that gleamed too bright.
I smiled.
Because Lianhua's letter wasn't a respite. It was simply the next turn of the blade.
And whatever peace she offered, I already knew it would taste of iron.