Chapter 12: Shadows of the Wei
The mountain air had barely cleared of smoke when news of the ambush reached the Wei. Messengers, breathless and bloodied, galloped across the winding roads, their words carrying like sparks into a dry forest. By the time they arrived at the Wei stronghold of Iron Fortress, the story had already grown: a Qing warrior leading mountain tribes, a caravan destroyed, a captain slain, slaves freed.
Inside the fortress, where banners of black and crimson hung heavy over stone walls, the report was delivered to General Wei Xu, commander of the western campaigns.
The general stood in silence, one hand resting on the pommel of his sheathed sword. His frame was imposing, armored even within the war council chamber, his face carved with the lines of both age and cruelty. His eyes, however, were sharp as steel.
The messenger knelt low, his forehead nearly scraping the floor. "Great General, the Qing… they struck in the Ashfang mountains. Captain Ru fell, the caravan burned. The tribes fight at their side."
A murmur ran through the gathered officers. Wei Xu's lips curled, not in anger, but in cold amusement.
"So," he said at last, his voice quiet enough that the hall stilled to hear it. "The rabbit shows its teeth. Interesting."
One of the officers stepped forward, bowing low. "General, shall we crush them now? Send riders to burn Qing village and make example—"
Wei Xu silenced him with a raised hand. "No. Fire consumes quickly, but fear burns deeper when it spreads slowly. This… Khan of Qing, if that is his name, has stirred embers. If we snuff him out too soon, others may not see his weakness. But if we draw him out, let his pride expose him…" His smile widened, a serpent's smile. "Then we not only kill a man. We kill the idea of resistance."
He turned to his second, a lean, hawk-eyed commander named Shen Tai. "Summon the Black Fang Battalion. Not the full force. Just enough to bleed them, to remind the tribes what defiance costs. And send word to the governor. Tell him the rebellion will be dealt with… personally."
The officers bowed deeply. Orders began to fly, runners dispatched into the night. The Wei's shadow had begun to move.
Far to the north, in the mountains, Qing's camp celebrated its fragile alliance. Yet even amid the warmth of firelight and the clamor of drums, Khan could not rest. His spear lay across his knees as he stared into the flames, lost in thought.
Han Long approached, dropping heavily onto the log beside him. His bandaged arm throbbed, but his eyes glowed with battle-hardened fire. "You should be pleased. The Ashfangs call you brother now. That is no small feat."
Khan nodded but did not smile. "Victory is easy to celebrate. It is what follows that weighs heavier. The Wei will not let this stand. They will come."
Zhang Wei, seated nearby, looked up from sharpening his spear. "Then we prepare. The Ashfangs are fierce, but their numbers are not endless. If the Wei send an army—"
"They will," Khan interrupted. "And when they do, we cannot meet them with strength alone. We must fight with spirit. Make them bleed for every step, every breath they take in our lands."
Mei Lan joined them, her hands still stained from tending freed villagers. "Then we should move quickly. These mountains give us cover. We can strike where they do not expect, vanish before their swords find us. If we are clever, we can outlast them."
Ragna, overhearing, strode over with the swagger of one who feared nothing. Her wolf-hide cloak flared as she sat across from Khan. "You speak as if war is coming tomorrow. Good. I hunger for it. The Wei have slaughtered us for too long. Now they will choke on their own arrogance."
Khan studied her, then spoke with quiet conviction. "This will not be like any raid before. The Wei will not come with farmers wielding spears. They will send killers, forged in blood. If we are to stand, we must forge ourselves as well."
The fire crackled between them, sparks rising into the night sky. Around the camp, the Ashfangs feasted and sang, but the warriors of Qing sat in solemn silence, their minds already turned toward the storm approaching.
Days later, the storm arrived.
From the ridges above the valley, Khan spotted them first: the banners of the Wei, black fangs on crimson cloth, fluttering in the wind. The Black Fang Battalion, notorious even among their own, advanced with ruthless precision. Five hundred strong, their armor gleamed dark as obsidian, their steps shaking the earth.
Khan's gut tightened. Against his hundred warriors and the Ashfang fighters, the odds were a mountain pressing on his chest. Yet his voice, when he spoke, carried no fear.
"They come."
Han Long's grip tightened on his blade. "Then we make them regret it."
Ragna bared her teeth in a grin. "Good. At last, prey worth killing."
Mei Lan's face was pale but steady. "If we fail—"
Khan cut her off gently. "We will not fail. We cannot. If we fall here, others will rise. That is the truth the Wei fear most."
He raised his spear, the weapon gleaming like captured fire beneath the sun. His voice rang across the camp, reaching every warrior, every heart.
"Brothers! Sisters! The Wei come to chain us, to strip our freedom, to steal our future. But today, we do not fight for land or for gold. We fight for the right to live unbroken! We fight for those who cannot lift a sword, for those who pray in silence, for those yet unborn who deserve to walk free beneath these skies. If we must die, let it be with our blood screaming freedom! And if we live, let it be to build a world where no man bows!"
A roar thundered from the ranks of Qing and Ashfang alike. Spears slammed against shields. Axes pounded against the ground. Even the mountains seemed to tremble with the force of their cry.
The Wei battalion entered the valley with cold, disciplined silence. The clash was inevitable, written into the earth itself.
As the first drums of war thundered, Khan whispered a vow beneath his breath.
"Primordial world, if you chose me, then guide me now. Let my will carve a path no empire can chain."
And then the valley exploded in battle