Chapter 80: I Will Sharpen My Blade

Wu Gang was a rough man by nature, yet even he sensed that a hard-fought battle was drawing near. The exact time of departure had not been decided—they were waiting for Gu Yi to wake up, for he had not slept a wink the night before.

When people grow tense, they often do strange things. For Wu Gang, that meant eating. He went to the kitchen and traded stories of the “Immortal Talents from Luyang Academy” with the cooks, exchanging them for two roast chickens and a roast duck.

He asked Chen Mingguang if he wanted some, and when Chen agreed, Wu Gang handed him a chicken claw, keeping the rest for himself to tear apart and devour.

“Wu Gang, are you going to write a letter home?” Chen Mingguang had already finished his own.

“No need. I never liked reading or writing as a child. If it ever came to the point where I was writing home, my parents would have every reason to worry.”

Fair enough, Chen thought—it made sense in its way. Perhaps Wu Gang just seemed simple-minded. Or maybe it was that chubby men who love to eat and drink always appear a little less clever.

Wu Gang swallowed a large chunk of chicken breast, then drew his sword. In the sunlight, the blade gleamed with sharpness. He fell silent, then stood up.

Chen Mingguang asked curiously, “Where are you going? You haven’t finished eating.”

“I’m going to ask for something else. I’ll save the roast chicken for later.”

“You shouldn’t save the good things—eat them now.”

“Alright.” Wu Gang found it odd. “Aren’t you going to say I’ve got grease on my mouth?”

The prospect of battle always painted everything with unspoken emotions. Aside from survival, nothing else mattered.

Grease or no grease, so be it.

Throughout the day, the sounds of drill still echoed from Desheng Pass. Chen Mingguang stayed in his room, reading to calm his mind, unfazed by the commotion. The two young women soldiers were nowhere to be seen; among them, it was the seemingly slow-witted Wu Gang who made everyone feel most at ease.

The boy whom Gu Yi had seen earlier was, with his companions’ help, donning armor and forming ranks. When he saw Wu Gang from Luyang Academy gnawing on a chicken leg, all the dreams and hopes the boy still harbored for the future suddenly took clear shape—they looked just like these men before him.

At some point, army wives appeared in front of the barracks. They handed bundles of food, wrapped in cloth, directly to their husbands.

It seemed that today, this twelve-man unit had a mission. The only one without food was the boy, his hands empty. Long exposure to the elements at the border had left his cheeks red and peeling from the dry wind.

Wu Gang approached the boy, holding out the leftover chicken leg.

“Want some?”

The boy looked up at him. “Yes! Thank you, sir!”

“Let’s eat together. Is today your first time?”

The boy was still excited that a cultivator from Luyang Academy was speaking to him. “It’s my first time talking to a lord from Luyang Academy, but not my first time on patrol.”

“How many times have you gone?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Sir, since you are strong, what do you think is most important on the battlefield?”

Wu Gang asked, “What do you do?”

The boy replied, “I keep my knife sharp.”

Later, General He Jiang explained to Wu Gang that with too few soldiers and the vastness of the Chenzhou Basin, there was a constant need for patrols. As ordinary men, their greatest fear was encountering cultivators from the State of Li, for if that happened, none would return.

And as war crept ever closer, the chances of such encounters only grew.

Wu Gang said little, only asking the boy his name. They called him Little Sha, the youngest soldier here. His family had been killed by the people of Li, and so he had joined the army for revenge, regardless of his age.

It was a clichéd tale, yet it was Little Sha’s whole life. Though death might await them outside, none of the men laughed or wept—only the women waving them off shed tears, for each was the mother of a “Little Sha.”

For the first time, Wu Gang understood what “the border” truly meant.

He had come here to fight for his homeland, for the countless mothers and children of Xu. He, too, would keep his blade sharp.

That same day, later in the evening, a ragged group of ten returned to Desheng Pass, dragging three or five wounded black horses behind them. Beyond the limping horses, there was something else unusual—this was a squad of women.

“Deputy Ji is back!”

By now, Gu Yi had woken and was discussing their departure with the others. Hearing the commotion outside, everyone rushed out to see.

“That’s our women’s corps from Desheng Pass!”

Though women, their uniforms were stained with blood, sweat beading on their faces, their bearing grim and fierce—each told in silence the tale of what they had endured.

“General Ji, you’ve finally returned.” He Jiang hurried forward to greet them.

The woman leading them stood tall, hands on her hips, every bit the equal of a man’s pride. “Even if you were dead, He Jiang, I, Ji Lan, would still be alive!” she declared. Then, waving her hand, she called, “Bring hot water! Let us wash the blood from our faces!”

The nine behind her threw away their horsewhips, unashamedly rolling up their sleeves and letting down their hair beneath the gaze of the soldiers. In the sunset, these striking figures brought a vivid splash of color to the camp.

“General Ji, the Luyang Academy has sent your classmates.”

Ji Lan straightened her uniform and stood at attention. “Ji Lan greets the honored guests from Luyang Academy!”

“Shu Le greets you, Senior Ji. In your skirmish with the State of Li, did you win or lose?”

“Of course we won.”

Ji Lan surveyed the eight-person group, her gaze finally settling on Gu Yi, who stood nearest Shu Le—a sign of capability, and also the most handsome among them. The sons of Luyang Academy were indeed refined and delicate.

“Well done,” Shu Le nodded slightly. “You should wash up and rest.”

“Very well.”

Shu Le recalled that Gu Yi was best at writing spirit talismans. “Let’s continue our discussion. Ma Yuan, write a few healing talismans for Senior Ji and the soldiers of Xu.”

“No problem.”

Under everyone’s gaze, each woman bore a smile. Bold and forthright, they lacked the demure charm of women from Luyang City, yet for some reason, as dusk fell, these tanned and lean figures exuded a strange beauty.

Ji Lan met Gu Yi’s eyes without flinching. “Ma Yuan, my name is Ji Lan.”

“Hello, Senior Ji.” Gu Yi glanced at her unmoving left arm. “Your arm—injured?”

“Yes, it was sliced, but worth it—I blocked a blow to my head.”

Writing spirit talismans was easy for Gu Yi. With a flick of his fingers, spiritual energy flowed, and a green talisman adhered to Ji Lan’s arm.

She uttered no sound, her face unchanged, always smiling. “Ma Yuan, how old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“Are you married?”

The nine women, having washed their faces and loosened their hair, crowded around, making a scene.

Gu Yi took no offense. In the intensity of the battlefield, there was no room for flirtation—only the honest warmth that came from their directness. He marveled at their open, lively behavior, so different from their grimness in battle.

Ji Lan was unfazed by her subordinates’ teasing. She pulled off her cap, and her long black hair tumbled down.

“Ma Yuan, there are no girls as straightforward as us in Luyang, are there?”

One of them seemed proud of her general’s words.

“No,” Gu Yi replied, as he wrote a healing talisman for each of them.

Here, life and death shifted quickly; so too did the forging of friendships.

“General, you ought to thank Lord Ma.”

“Do you have to say that?” Ji Lan grinned wickedly, stepped up, and gave Gu Yi a hug.

But as she leaned close, she didn’t say “thank you.”

She whispered, “Come back alive.”

Yes.

The tall figure was cast even longer by the setting sun, her shadow merging with Gu Yi’s own on the earth.

Come back alive.