Chapter 4: A Leaf Before the Eyes

All the soldiers fell into a deathly silence. This young man showed none of the commanding aura of a formidable figure, yet anyone who could leisurely sip tea amidst dozens of corpses must either be a master of unfathomable depth or an utter madman.

Mr. Wen was the first to recover, bowing deeply to Ji Huo, a flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Without asking a single question about the blood-soaked scene around him, he spoke respectfully:

“Second Young Master, the Eldest Young Master has sent me to escort you home.”

Ji Huo looked him up and down, then suddenly remarked, “I recognize you.”

Mr. Wen smiled deferentially. “Two years ago, when the Eldest Young Master came to see you, I accompanied him. I caught a glimpse of you then.”

So that was it… Ji Huo recalled the gentle youth he’d met two years prior. He’d known the visitor had come seeking him, but since the other hadn’t revealed his identity, Ji Huo hadn’t inquired. Thinking back now, it was likely that the Eldest Young Master, fearing Ji Huo wouldn’t believe the visitor was truly from the Ji family, had sent Mr. Wen himself as proof.

“Let’s go.”

Having confirmed their identities, Ji Huo dusted off his hands and stood, striding toward the assembled men.

No wonder the Flying Bear Army dominated the land… Ji Huo’s gaze swept over the soldiers and instantly saw that each brimmed with raw vitality, murderous intent heavy upon them. Clearly, every one of them was a veteran who had survived the battlefield. The imperial guards who’d come to fetch him earlier would not have been fit to shine these men’s boots.

“Welcome home, Second Young Master!” Lü Shui was the first to salute, the rest of the soldiers following suit in unison, their voices ringing with power.

Ji Huo looked up at the towering general before him, who was built like a bear, and asked, “And who are you?”

“I am Lü Shui, currently serving as the second battalion’s field strategist in the Flying Bear Army,” Lü Shui answered with a booming voice and a cupped-fist salute, his volume making Ji Huo’s ears ring.

Ji Huo blinked, glancing from the brawny strategist before him to the thin, frail Mr. Wen at his side—they looked for all the world like a giant shepherding a clutch of chicks.

In this world, strategists were often also sorcerers, versed in astronomy, geography, geomancy, formations, and all manner of occult arts—a true guild of mystics. Most were rather thin, for the practice of the esoteric left little time for physical training; Mr. Wen’s appearance was the very picture of a classic sorcerer.

Back during the chaos of war, business had been brisk, and Ji Huo had slain his share of strategists—frail types who would topple with the merest breeze.

But as for this Lü Shui, Ji Huo had no doubt he could uproot a tree with his bare hands and pummel someone with it.

“The Flying Bear Army… the rations must be impressive,” Ji Huo managed at last.

At this, Lü Shui burst into hearty laughter, pounding his massive chest like a drum. “Second Young Master, if you ever have the chance, come visit the camp! Every last man is a gem, and even their conversation is delightful!”

Mr. Wen’s lips twitched with embarrassment; thank goodness he answered to the Eldest Young Master and not the Flying Bear Army.

He had assumed the Second Young Master, being slight of build and unskilled in horsemanship, would need Lü Shui to prepare a carriage—if only to spare his own backside further torment. To his surprise, Ji Huo vaulted onto a horse with practiced ease. The fierce warhorse, known for its wild temperament, stood docile beneath him.

“Let’s move out.”

For a moment, Lü Shui thought he glimpsed the late General Ji Xiong leading his troops to war. His blood stirred, and he shouted to the others, “Mount up! We ride day and night for the capital!”

Wait! Can’t you brutes spare a thought for an old man like me? I’m not made for this! Mr. Wen’s face was a mask of misery.

They pressed on at a grueling pace. By dusk, the world was already growing perilous, for the wilds were thick with monsters and beasts. Yet the soldiers, hardened by war, pressed fearlessly into the night, their martial aura warding off all danger.

From the darkness, many eyes regarded them. But upon seeing the army’s banner—a roaring bear against the sky—those eyes vanished at once.

Best not to provoke such a force.

By midnight, at Mr. Wen’s repeated urging, Lü Shui reluctantly called a halt in the wild, building a fire for a brief respite. Even so, Lü Shui shot him several dirty looks, but Mr. Wen could only shake his head in resignation.

“You all rest here. I’ll go hunt up some game for the Second Young Master,” Lü Shui declared, laughing heartily as he and several soldiers disappeared into the woods.

The remaining soldiers scattered yellow sulfur powder and built campfires at intervals. Though seemingly haphazard, Ji Huo could see these fires formed a loose array—a protective formation of sorts.

Noticing Mr. Wen grimacing as he sat, Ji Huo smiled and asked, “Not used to traveling, sir?”

Mr. Wen forced a chuckle. “That’s not it. I often accompany the Eldest Young Master on business trips, but never in such… rough conditions.”

Ji Huo understood. He’d heard the Eldest Young Master, Ji Xiong’s son, was frail and sickly, always accompanied by an entourage, riding in open carriages pulled by fine horses—traveling with these soldiers, galloping through the night, was an entirely different experience.

He recalled the gentle youth he’d met two years before. Though elegant and refined, he hadn’t looked like an invalid. Yet rumor painted the Eldest Young Master as so weak he’d be gasping after a few steps, coughing after a few more. When Ji Huo first received this intelligence, he’d suspected the man suffered from chronic deficiency, the sort who’d need a daily dose of tonic pills.

“Second Young Master, those people in the inn?” Mr. Wen, seeing Ji Huo lost in thought, ventured a tentative question.

“Oh? How do you think they died?” Ji Huo asked suddenly.

“They took each other down?” Mr. Wen blurted out.

“Exactly! Mr. Wen, your insight is impressive!” Ji Huo laughed.

Mr. Wen burst out laughing as well. “That was my thought too.”

“Second Young Master, have you ridden before?”

“I have.”

“But if you’ve been living in such straitened circumstances, how did you learn to ride?”

“Oh? And how do you think I learned?”

“Perhaps, in the course of scraping by, you picked it up now and then?”

“Exactly! Mr. Wen, your insight is impressive!”

“Hahaha! That was my thought as well.”

As the two chatted idly, the once-bright moonlight abruptly faded. The wilderness around them grew even darker, the only illumination the scattered campfires, which now seemed to burn more brightly in defiance of the gloom, their light forming a subtle, protective pattern.

Ji Huo and Mr. Wen looked up together. A swath of black clouds, thick as velvet, swept across the sky at a speed visible to the naked eye. Within the clouds, faint noises could be heard, and a flock of crows circled, cawing raucously.

“A great demon is passing through!”

Mr. Wen’s face darkened as he cursed under his breath. “I knew we shouldn’t have camped out here! All these fires—monsters and spirits are bound to notice!”

Even as he spoke, he leapt up, plucked a leaf, and tossed it into the air. The green leaf grew larger in the wind, expanding until it covered them all, masking even the scent of their campfires.

“No one make a sound. If we hide, it’ll pass us by,” Mr. Wen instructed the soldiers.

“What is this?” Ji Huo asked, raising an eyebrow—such sorcery was a rare sight.

“A leaf to block the eye—just a little trick,” Mr. Wen replied, his back straight and his face proud, though his tone was casual.