Chapter 25: Blood at the Northern Pass
Snow fell not in flakes, but in sheets. The wind howled through the broken timbers of the third fortress, carrying with it the cold smell of iron, smoke, and blood. The banners of the Northern Ducal House had been torn down, replaced by Imperial standards—mud-stained, arrow-pierced, but still standing.
The Emperor, Li Feng, stood beneath that banner. His armor was scratched and dented. Blood—some his, most belonging to his fallen men—had dried along the seams of his gauntlets. He simply stood, staring across the open plains beyond the fortress walls, ignoring the ache in his muscles.
That was when the scout returned.
Scout:
"Your Majesty… movement."
The Emperor turned slowly.
Li Feng:
"How many?"
The scout swallowed, his eyes wide.
Scout:
"Seven thousand. Five thousand cavalry. The banners—it's the Northern Duke himself."
Silence fell heavy. The seasoned generals around him stiffened. The Northern Duke did not risk his life lightly. His presence meant the complete annihilation of the Emperor's current force to force a treaty and end the war in one decisive stroke.
The Divine Emperor Xuan Tian floated nearby, arms folded, his expression grim for once.
Divine Emperor Xuan Tian:
"You retreat. Now, Li Feng."
The Emperor didn't answer immediately. Seven thousand. Five thousand cavalry. Open terrain. Exhausted troops. Victory here would cost every single man he had. Glory would drown in blood.
The Emperor exhaled slowly.
Li Feng:
"Signal controlled retreat."
The words fell like a decree. One General opened his mouth to argue—then stopped, silenced by the steady, unpanicked command in the Emperor's gaze.
Li Feng:
"I will hold the rear."
The Heavenly Emperor snapped around.
Divine Emperor Xuan Tian:
"Absolutely not! That is glorious, suicidal nonsense!"
The Emperor didn't even look at him, focused on the shifting lines on the horizon.
Li Feng:
"Retreating against cavalry causes more deaths. Someone must stall them."
"And that someone is the Emperor of Xia?" the Heavenly Emperor demanded.
The Emperor finally looked up, fatigue etched deep around his eyes.
Li Feng:
"You placed me here, old man. Don't act surprised."
For a heartbeat, the Heavenly Emperor said nothing. Then, quietly:
Divine Emperor Xuan Tian:
"…Because I care about the dynasty, you fool."
The Emperor gave a faint, tired smile.
Li Feng:
"Then let me do my duty."
Orders were given. Two generals bowed immediately and withdrew with four thousand troops, following the retreat order. Three remained.
One shook his head. "We retreat where the throne retreats."
Another knelt. "We stand where the throne stands."
The third, General Wei, simply tightened his grip on his sword, ready to sell his life for the man who valued it.
The Emperor closed his eyes for a moment.
Li Feng:
"…Then live long enough to protect it," he said softly.
They did not answer.
The Price of Endurance
The clash came like a storm. Cavalry thundered across the plains, hooves shaking the earth. Arrows darkened the sky. The Emperor's remaining force, utilizing the ruined fortress structures, wagons, and the difficult terrain, formed tight defensive lines to break the cavalry's momentum.
It was not a glorious battle; it was brutal, desperate, and calculated for maximum enemy consumption.
The Emperor moved among his remaining troops, shouting orders, repositioning units, and using his own strength to drag wounded men out of danger. He did not charge; he did not boast; he endured, proving his worth not by bravery but by pure presence.
Hours passed. The defenders bled but did not break.
Then word arrived from the retreating forces: Grand General Zhang Yun was advancing relentlessly toward the Northern Duke's capital city, utilizing the momentum Li Feng's initial action had given him.
The Duke hesitated. To lose his capital to an open invasion while securing a single Emperor in the field was a political suicide he could not afford. He cursed and pulled back the majority of his cavalry—five thousand hooves turning away from the battlefield to save his city.
The remaining ducal forces faltered. That was enough.
Li Feng pressed the advantage—not to annihilate, but to break morale completely. The remaining enemy general was killed, four hundred captured. The battle was won at a terrible cost of life, but the Northern Front had secured its position.
The Fallen Symbol
Then, as the last horn sounded—
An arrow flew. No warning. No sound.
It struck beneath the Emperor's collarbone, close enough to the heart that blood poured instantly, staining the white fur lining of his armor crimson.
He staggered. The world tilted.
The Heavenly Emperor shouted his name, horrified.
The Emperor collapsed, vision fading, the imperial banner above him blurring into white.
They carried him away as night fell. By imperial command, the generals who withdrew spoke only one sentence when questioned by any courier:
"His Majesty holds the border