The sun had barely begun to rise when the Gu Ren Tai returned.
Their boots struck the earth in weary rhythm, crusted in dried blood and mud. The once-clean banners of their unit flapped in the breeze, stained but upright. Some men limped, others clutched wounds hastily wrapped, but their formation stayed tight — disciplined.
Ren walked at the front, his sword sheathed, his face calm. Behind his eyes, calculations still flickered.
"About time we got back," Kai muttered at his side, cracking his neck. "I was starting to think we'd have to storm the whole damn forest ourselves."
Ren gave a faint grunt of agreement but said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the distant Qin camp, now coming into view through the thinning trees.
From behind, one of the younger soldiers laughed weakly. "I thought we were dead back there. When those Zhao archers hit the ridge, I thought—"
"You thought wrong," Kai cut in, glancing back with a crooked grin. "We've got the boss. He doesn't die easy."
"Neither do you," Ren said, his voice quiet but steady.
The men laughed. The mood lightened — just a little.
When they entered the camp, they were met by a thin, sharp-eyed messenger in black robes. Without fanfare, he handed Ren a folded parchment sealed with the General's mark. Ren opened it and read silently.
A single line.
"Well done. Rest, but stay sharp. – Ouki"
He folded it, tucking it away, his face unreadable. But Kai leaned closer, grinning. "What did he say?"
Ren glanced at him. "He said you talk too much."
The men burst out laughing again. Tension broke, and for a while, they felt like soldiers returning from a job well done — not bait in a war they didn't yet understand.
Later that day, Ren found Shin seated on a crate near the mess tent, loudly retelling their recent battle to a half-interested Kyou Kai. She ate silently, unmoved by Shin's animated swings and footwork impressions.
"You wouldn't believe it," Shin was saying. "This guy came at me with two axes. Two. So I grab him like this—"
"You almost tripped," Kyou Kai said flatly.
Shin flinched. "I did not!"
"You did," came Ren's calm voice.
Shin turned, brightening. "Ren! You made it back."
Ren nodded and took a seat across from them. "So did you."
"Barely," Kyou Kai added.
Shin waved her off. "Please. I had it under control."
Ren glanced between them. "Your commander?"
"Zhao. Fought like he was guarding something, not attacking. Weird tactics."
Ren nodded slowly. "Ours was the same. It felt… staged. Like they were told to lose, but take their time doing it."
Kyou Kai paused mid-bite. "You noticed too."
The three sat in silence for a moment.
Then Shin said, "You think they're setting something up?"
Ren didn't answer at first. The wind rustled the nearby trees, and distant horns from other battalions echoed faintly.
Finally, Ren said, "It doesn't feel like a real war yet. It feels like... the calm before it."
That night, Ren couldn't sleep.
He rose quietly, slipping out of the tent while Kai snored in the corner. Outside, the campfires glowed like dim stars across the field. Guards whispered, patrols shifted, but a strange hush clung to the air.
He walked toward the command area, not close enough to draw attention, just far enough to see the tall figure standing motionless beneath the moon.
General Ouki stood alone, back straight, cape billowing. His glaive rested beside him, its blade catching the silver light like the edge of fate.
Beside him, Tou approached from the shadows.
"The Zhao are pulling back in three sectors," Tou said.
"No," Ouki replied. "They're not retreating. They're repositioning."
Tou's brow furrowed. "You're certain?"
Ouki didn't look at him. "Yes. This isn't a simple campaign. Something is coming. And I believe the trap is already sprung."
Ren watched from afar, his instincts prickling. He had never seen Ouki before this campaign, but now, watching him in the pale light, he understood why men called him a giant. Not just in strength — but in presence.
The General didn't speak like a man fearing death. He spoke like someone watching a thunderstorm form at the edge of a field.
Far away, in the hidden depths of Zhao's command camp, a voice whispered in the dark.
"Both of the young Qin captains succeeded in eliminating our forward commanders."
Riboku stood, expression calm as ever. He closed his fan and turned to the shadow seated behind him.
"Perfect," he said softly. "They've cleared the path, just as we needed."
No reply came — but Hou Ken rose to his feet, silent and towering. His eyes were closed, his blade already resting on his shoulder.
Riboku smiled faintly. "The storm begins tomorrow."
Back at the Qin camp, Ren sat on a rock outside his tent, slowly sharpening his blade.
Kai stirred inside, half-asleep. "You sharpening it for someone specific?"
Ren didn't look up. "No. Just a feeling."
Kai groaned. "You and your feelings again."
Ren didn't answer.
The wind howled softly through the camp. Not cold. Not loud. Just enough to make the trees sway — as if the land itself was bracing for impact.