Chapter Eighty-Four: Myth

Page 1 of 3

The King of the Bald Eagle circled and descended to the ground.

“Brother Bald, there’s no fresh meat right now, so you’ll have to make do,” Lu Hu grumbled as he got to his feet. He rummaged through his saddlebag and handed the King of the Bald Eagle a pile of dried wild pheasant.

The great bird nodded and started devouring the food in big gulps.

“Once you’ve eaten and rested for a bit, we keep moving. Tonight, we take the forage depot,” Lu Hu said, repeating the message in four languages for the Thirteen Guardians, the King of the Bald Eagle, Bai Dabai, and the Yellow Weasel clan.

By his calculations, barring any mishaps, they’d reach the depot by midnight.

Here, in this world of ice and snow with no tents to shelter them, they had no choice but to seize the forage depot before they could rest.

...

Late night. Hai Forage Depot.

The main tent blazed with lamplight.

Two centurions, drunk to the point of glassy eyes, each held a camp courtesan in their arms, humming little tunes as they watched four naked dancers swirl and sway before them.

Around them, a dozen decurions formed four noisy groups, gambling with dice. By night’s end, the four winners would be accompanied by dancers for the night.

Guarding the forage depot was a cushy post—these officers were never idle after dark.

The regular soldiers didn’t enjoy such pleasures, but they lacked nothing in food and drink. Most were already deep in drunken slumber.

Only five squads of ten, those on duty, remained awake. Two squads patrolled the camp on horseback, the other three posted as sentries.

At the main gate, four guards yawned, fighting off sleep.

The night was silent, the world hushed, broken only by the near-soundless snowfall that blanketed them and needed to be brushed off from time to time. But for that, they’d have dozed off completely.

Suddenly, one guard’s eyes snapped open. “Hey! Stop dozing, listen—there’s something out there.”

“In this snow? Even the rats are holed up, not looking for food. What could be out there?” Another guard, half-dreaming, was abruptly jerked awake, grumbling in annoyance.

“Exactly. Even the camp dogs aren’t barking. You want us to believe your ears are sharper than a dog’s?”

“No, I swear—I really hear horse hooves,” another guard said, shielding his eyes and peering into the distance.

“Sound the horn! Sound the horn! Someone’s coming, really coming!” cried a sharp-eyed sentry, catching sight of shapes emerging from the swirling snow, shouting in panic.

The four scrambled to grab their horns.

Before they could sound the alarm, an arrow struck one guard squarely in the nose. He toppled backward into the snow.

The other three shrieked as one, “Mother of—!” and forgot all about blowing the horn.

The swirling snow, in their eyes, had become a realm of immortals.

Page 2 of 3

From that realm, three death gods drifted forward:

One, clad in golden armor, held a gleaming white rectangular shield, astride a golden horse—man and steed both ablaze with light.

Beside him, a god in crimson armor, riding a red horse, bow drawn and arrow nocked.

Next to the red horse prowled a tiger, white as the snow itself.

A killing aura swept toward them...

Quan Meiyu loosed another arrow, felling the second guard.

The two remaining guards dropped to their knees, kowtowing frantically.

“I am a god. Open the gate,” Lu Hu commanded, and before his words had faded, Yellow Tunic kicked off, leaping over the fence higher than a man.

Lightning followed, vaulting over with ease.

Bai Dabai smashed a hole through the fence and charged inside.

If a god commands, it must be true. The two guards scrambled up and opened the gate, standing there dumbfounded and unsure what to do—better to kneel and await divine will.

“Who dares storm my forage depot?” A decurion, patrolling nearby, noticed the commotion. He drew his bow and galloped over.

His arrow never left the string—Quan Meiyu shot him from his horse.

“Gods!” The remaining nine soldiers abandoned their weapons, dismounted, and knelt in worship.

Lu Hu ignored them and headed straight for the main tent.

As he neared, another squad of ten burst from between haystacks.

Lu Hu leveled his spear and skewered the leading decurion from his horse.

A soldier brandished a saber and charged at Quan Meiyu, but Bai Dabai roared, leapt, and brought him down.

The rest had only one thought: these were not mortals—these were gods!

They dropped their weapons, dismounted, and knelt en masse.

At the entrance to the main tent, the two guards were already on their knees.

Yellow Tunic kicked aside the door curtain and rushed inside.

“Gods! Gods! The gods have descended!” several decurions near the entrance cried out in terror as the wind burst in.

The four dancers shrieked, clutching their heads and scattering.

At the threshold stood a golden man on a golden horse, shield in his left hand, a long spear in his right.

The shield was a shining rectangle; the spear resembled a black bamboo pole, its tip sharpened—a weapon none had ever seen before.

Page 3 of 3

Beside him stood the crimson-armored god on a red horse, bow in one hand, arrow in the other, bowstring drawn and aimed—one release and the arrow would fly.

Next to the red horse, a white tiger bared its teeth, poised to pounce.

The decurions were stunned with terror.

Who dared move? Any movement would mean instant death...

Yet there are always fools driven by bravado.

“Who are you people?” barked the sturdier of the two centurions, mustering some courage. He shoved the camp courtesan aside, staggered to his feet, and demanded, his drunken eyes blazing.

“Gods!” roared Lu Hu. Yellow Tunic vaulted before the centurion.

Lu Hu pressed his spear tip to the man’s forehead. “Kneel. Bow before the gods!”

Whether it was true courage or just the wine talking, the centurion showed no fear. “You—!”

He got no further. In a flash, he was shot through, his body erupting in flames as it crashed into the tent.

He didn’t even have time to scream.

With a rush, everyone else dropped to their knees.

“Get up! Put out the fire!” Lu Hu barked. The blazing centurion had already set the tent’s furs alight.

The officers dashed to smother the flames.

Then, as one, they resumed kneeling.

Lu Hu ordered coldly, “Decurions, return to your squads. Wake your men and assemble them outside your tents.”

The decurions bowed low, faces frozen with terror, and hurried out.

“All of you, out! Put your clothes on!” As Lu Hu’s gaze swept to the dancers, Quan Meiyu glared furiously, her almond eyes flashing. She barked out the command, anxious that her godly companion not be ensnared by these shameless women.

Bai Dabai suddenly pounced into the corner of the tent. With a scream, it returned, jaws locked around the neck of a black hunting dog.

The camp’s dogs, cowed by Bai Dabai’s ferocious presence, didn’t dare make a sound—all had their tails between their legs.

The black dog’s spine was already snapped. At a signal from Lu Hu, Bai Dabai tore it open and feasted eagerly.

The surviving centurion was paralyzed with fear, shaking uncontrollably on the ground.

“Get up. Come with us outside,” Lu Hu commanded sharply.

The centurion watched, horrified, as Bai Dabai devoured the dog in a few gulps. His soul seemed to flee his body. Limp and trembling, he could barely crawl to his feet.