The wind at the execution ground still carried the stench of blood. Two soldiers dragged Gu Kai by the arms, his boots sinking into yellow sand sticky with half-dried gore. Every step clung like glue.
Kalon stood in front of him, his leather boots grinding a pebble underfoot with a shrill scrape. The scar across his left cheek—earned three years ago fighting Ira over a water source—gleamed coldly in the dying sun, twitching as he sneered.
"You say you know where Ira's granary is?" Kalon bent down, pinching Gu Kai's chin between his fingers, forcing his head up. "If you're lying, I'll make sure you die slower than those three scouts just now. Vultures on the steppe love pecking out eyes while the body's still alive."
Pain shot through Gu Kai's jaw, but he didn't flinch. Instead, he met Kalon's gaze with a crooked grin. "If I wanted to lie, I wouldn't have yelled it out on the execution ground. I'd have let you shoot me then and there—saved myself the torture."
He paused deliberately, flicking his eyes toward Aji. The boy was being pinned to the ground by a soldier, still thrashing to break free. "That kid you caught—his name's Aji. Born and raised in Locheng. If anyone knows where Ira's granary is, it's him. Ask him yourself."
Kalon's gaze shifted. Aji immediately shouted, "It's true! Ira's granary's at the old flour mill by the north gate. Last time I delivered avocados, I saw it! Wire fence at the entrance, two guards posted!" He tried to stand, only to be shoved back down, eyes burning red with panic. "Kai-ge wouldn't lie to you! If he wanted to trick you, he wouldn't have stood up to Ira's men earlier!"
Kalon studied Aji for a long moment, then slowly released Gu Kai's chin. "Three days," he said flatly. He waved, and his soldiers dragged over a rusted iron cage—stinking of old straw and streaked with bird droppings, clearly once used for livestock. "You'll stay in here. I'll give you ten men. If, in three days, you haven't found or destroyed that granary, both of you will feed the vultures."
Gu Kai stared at the cage, swore inwardly, but kept his face neutral. "Ten men? If they're like the ones at your side, I might stand a chance. But if you hand me a bunch of starving cripples, we won't even make it to the north gate, let alone hit a granary."
He'd said it on purpose. Back at the execution ground, he'd already noticed some of Kalon's troops—faces sallow, arms thin as sticks, clearly half-starved and barely trained.
As if expecting it, Kalon smirked. "The men I'll give you are the best 'runners' in my tribe." He clapped his hands. Ten soldiers shuffled forward. Two limped badly. Three weren't even fifteen, clutching rifles rusted brown.
"Ira's granary may be lightly guarded, but the area around it is mined. I don't need muscle—I need men who can duck, crawl, and run. You like playing strategist? Perfect. Let's see if your tricks can keep this lot alive."
Gu Kai's stomach knotted, but he forced himself to nod. "Fine. Ten men it is. But I want conditions. One—give me a map of Locheng, with the route from here to the north gate marked. Two—Aji comes with me, he knows the streets. Three—enough food and water for three days. You can't expect us to fight on empty stomachs."
"Map and food you'll get. Aji can go too," Kalon said, turning back toward his tent. "But remember this—if you try anything clever, I'll make sure every herder in Locheng knows it was you who got their children killed." His words rode the wind, sharp and merciless.
The soldiers shoved Gu Kai and Aji into the iron cage, then tossed in a wrinkled map and a cloth bundle—ten rock-hard naan and two flasks of water.
Aji crouched in the straw, voice low. "Kai-ge… sorry. I shouldn't have shouted just now. Got you locked up too."
"Not your fault." Gu Kai opened the bundle, handed Aji a naan, and spread the map under the fading light. The lines were crooked, the north gate circled in ink. Next to the granary, someone had scribbled wire fence—but no sign of the minefield.
"He left it blank on purpose," Gu Kai muttered. "He wants to test if we really know the place."
Aji tore into the naan, suddenly brightening. "I know where the minefield is! Last time I went with avocados, I saw Ira's men burying things on the west side of the granary. They even stuck red flags in the ground so their own people wouldn't step on them!" He jabbed a spot on the map with his finger. "Here—about half a soccer field wide. Those flags are easy to spot."
Relief loosened Gu Kai's chest. He folded the map, tucked it into his shirt, then patted the canvas around his waist—the sunhat was still hidden safely in its lining. Not even the soldiers had found it.
He glanced at the darkening sky outside the cage, then at Aji gnawing on naan beside him. Strangely, the iron bars didn't feel so terrifying anymore.
"Tomorrow morning, we move out," Gu Kai said, chewing on his own naan. It was so hard it hurt his teeth. He grimaced. "This stuff's worse than the expired bread from the convenience store near my old office. Kalon's a real cheapskate."
Aji burst out laughing, tension easing. "Don't say that, Kai-ge. He's not all bad. Last time folks in the tribe went hungry, he shared his horse milk with everyone."
Gu Kai arched a brow but stayed silent. He didn't believe in "good" or "bad" when it came to men like Kalon. A warlord who ordered killings without blinking only cared about profit. He leaned against the bars, pulled out The Thirty-Six Stratagems, and flipped to the page "Besiege Wei to Rescue Zhao." His grandfather's scribbled note glowed faintly in the last light: Attack what the enemy must save, and you'll lift the siege on yourself.
Ira's main force was pounding Kalon's west gate. The granary was their lifeline. Burn it, and they'd have no choice but to retreat. Whether the plan worked depended on tomorrow—if they could even reach the granary alive, and if this band of half-starved stragglers could hold up.
Night deepened. The grassland wind turned icy. Lamps still burned in Kalon's tent, his low voice carrying as he spoke with his adjutant. Gu Kai tucked The Thirty-Six Stratagems back into his shirt, stashed the map, and clapped Aji's shoulder. "Get some rest. Tomorrow'll be rough."
Aji nodded, curling into the corner, asleep within minutes. Gu Kai didn't dare. He leaned against the bars, listening to wolves howl in the distance, running the route over and over in his mind—three alleys to slip past, patrols to dodge, the minefield west of the granary. Aji would have to lead, pointing out the red flags.
Eventually, Kalon's tent went dark, leaving only the rhythm of soldiers' boots patrolling the camp. Gu Kai touched the canvas at his waist, then the book pressed to his chest, and whispered silently:
"Grandpa, whether I live or die this time… it's all on what you taught me."