The Wind of Chenyu Valley
The wind in Chenyu Valley carried the damp chill unique to mountain streams. Yet when it brushed against Hutao's face, it could not extinguish the fiery resolve in her eyes. The footsteps of four hundred rebels pounded along the winding mountain path, crushing the morning dew and striking the drumbeat of vengeance.
Yuan Shang and Yuan Xi, sons of Yuan Shao, had occupied Chenyu Valley for far too long. Their tyrannical rule was fiercer than tigers, and the people had long been filled with grievances. Today, Hutao would lead this surge of anger to overthrow the lair of those two spoiled nobles.
"Keep your spirits up!" Hutao reined in her horse. The Staff of Homa at her waist glowed dark red in the morning light. "Past the ridge ahead, we will see the camp of Chenyu Valley. Remember—we fight for the suffering people below. Show no mercy, and do not lose your courage!"
The rebels behind her roared in unison. Though not deafening, their voices carried the desperation of those with nothing left to lose. Most were ordinary folk, their weapons no more than spears forged from hoes and shields pieced together from wooden doors. Yet in the months they had followed Hutao—watching her evade official pursuit with clever wit and rally hearts with her silver tongue—they had come to see her as the light that could cut through the darkness.
Just as the column rounded a bend and prepared to press forward, a sharp shout erupted from the sloping hillside, like a stone crashing into a peaceful stream.
"Halt! You gaudily dressed little brat!"
Hutao frowned and looked up. On the hillside stood a scholar in a blue robe. He held no swords or spears, only a bamboo scroll. He appeared to be around thirty, with high cheekbones and an indescribably harsh glint in his eyes. She did not recognize him, but his insolent, finger-pointing tone instantly ignited a flicker of anger in her chest.
"Who are you, yelling like a madman?" Hutao called back, lifting her Staff of Homa slightly. "I am Hutao—my name stands unaltered. If you wish to fight or kill, do it openly. Spare me your empty words!"
"Hahaha!" The scholar threw back his head in mocking laughter. "So it is you, little yellow-haired fool! I am Chen Lin, secretary to Lord Yuan! I have long heard of an insolent rebel near Chenyu Valley—young yet unruly, gathering rabble with deceit and trickery. Seeing you now, you are indeed a vulgar little girl unworthy of respect!"
At these words, several rebels shouted in fury. Yet Chen Lin acted as if he heard nothing, taking two steps forward and continuing to jeer directly at Hutao.
"You think a little cleverness can shake the foundation of the Yuan clan? You are courting death! Your tricks are nothing but the antics of a buffoon—leaping about for all to laugh at!"
Hutao's face darkened. Though she was spirited by nature, she hated most when others accused her of acting dishonorably. But before she could snap back, Chen Lin's tone shifted sharply, lashing out at her ancestors.
"That cunning nature of yours runs in the blood! Was your dead father also a swindler? And your long-buried grandfather—surely he committed shameful deeds to raise such a shameless descendant!"
"You will die for this!"
Hutao's eyes instantly reddened. Her parents had died young, and her grandfather was the most revered person in her heart. For Chen Lin to slander him so was to stab her through the heart. She slammed her palm against the horse's back, and the Staff of Homa sliced through the air as she charged up the slope.
"Chen Lin! Come down! I will bury you in the earth and make you apologize to my grandfather!"
"Come then!" Chen Lin did not flee—if anything, he laughed even more wildly. "Catch me if you can! Let us see how you little girl plans to bury me!" With that, he turned and ran toward the mountain, shouting insults over his shoulder. His vulgar words lashed at Hutao like a whip.
"Chief Hutao, do not chase him! It is a trap!" her personal guards urged urgently. But Hutao was already blinded by rage, and she would not listen. A fire burned in her chest, leaving only one thought: seize Chen Lin, silence his vile tongue, and make him pay.
"Wait here. I will return shortly!" With that, Hutao dug her heels into her horse and galloped alone. Seeing their leader vanish, the four hundred rebels could not bear to let her go unprotected and scrambled after her, their formation instantly thrown into chaos.
Chen Lin ran at a steady pace, always staying just out of Hutao's reach but within her sight, leading her deeper into the valley. Steep cliffs rose on both sides, overgrown with vegetation. The further they went, the darker it grew, and a faint, dangerous aura hung in the air.
"Something's wrong…" After a long chase, Hutao finally sensed something amiss. It was far too quiet—no birds chirping, no insects buzzing, only the echo of their footsteps. She was about to rein in her horse when a dense shudder of bowstrings erupted behind her.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
A storm of arrows shot forth from behind the cliffs, raining down upon the entire column. The rebels had no time to react. Screams rose one after another. Some fell to the arrows; others frantically raised their shields, but they could not block the rain of death from all directions.
"Ambush! It's an ambush!" someone shouted—but it was too late.
Hutao spun around, swinging her Staff of Homa in a crimson blur, knocking aside several arrows aimed at her. Yet more slipped through her defense. One grazed her arm, drawing a line of blood. Another struck her thigh, the searing pain nearly knocking her from the saddle. The most deadly arrow sliced diagonally from above, piercing deep into her left shoulder, the tip tearing through flesh with a ripping agony.
"Ugh—" Hutao cried out. Her strength drained away, and the Staff of Homa clattered to the ground. She turned to look. The four hundred rebels had been split and surrounded by arrows and soldiers pouring from the cliffs, falling one by one, their defeat complete. The familiar faces, the folk who had chanted "Chief Hutao" beside her—they now lay in pools of blood, never to rise again.
"No…" Hutao's voice trembled, tears mixing with blood on her face. She should not have acted impulsively. She should not have let Chen Lin provoke her. It was her fault…
At that moment, Chen Lin leaned out from the cliff, a victorious sneer on his face. "Hutao, Hutao—did you truly believe you could stand against the Young Masters Yuan? Today is your end!"
More soldiers closed in, their blades and spears glinting coldly. Hutao leaned against her horse, covered in blood, the pain of her wounds nearly making her faint. Yet as she stared at the approaching enemies and the bodies of her companions, only despair and unwillingness remained. Would she truly be buried here today?
"Stop!"
At the critical moment, two figures dashed from the valley entrance. One wore white, moving with agile grace, his sword swirling like flowing water. Arrows were knocked aside wherever he passed, and soldiers could not draw near. The other wore elaborate, opera-like robes, holding a long spear. Its tip cut through the air with sharp force, sending the frontline soldiers flying in an instant.
"Traveler! Yun Jin!" When Hutao saw who they were, her eyes widened in disbelief.
Aether and Yun Jin had clearly ridden long and hard, their faces dust-streaked, yet their movements were unhindered. Aether's sword flashed like daylight, tearing open a gap. Yun Jin guarded his flank, her spear moving like a dragon, repelling nearby enemies.
"Hutao, hold on!" Aether shouted amid the fight, quickly reaching her side and carefully lifting her from the horse. "Do not fear. We are here."
Yun Jin swiftly cleared the surrounding soldiers and rushed to Hutao's other side. At the sight of her wounds, her eyes reddened. "Hutao, how are you? Does it hurt badly?"
"I… I'm fine…" Hutao smiled weakly. At the sight of her two familiar friends, her taut nerves finally unraveled, and tears burst forth. "I'm sorry… I was too impulsive…"
"Say no more. We must leave first." Aether lifted Hutao onto his back. With Yun Jin guarding their side, the two moved in perfect coordination, quickly cutting their way out of the siege and carrying Hutao away from the valley of despair.
Time passed unknowingly. Hutao awoke to the soft scent of medicinal herbs. She found herself lying on a soft bed, her wounds properly dressed and wrapped in clean bandages. On the table beside her rested a bowl of steaming porridge.
"You're awake?" A gentle voice spoke. Yun Jin entered with a basin of warm water, her face lighting up with joy at the sight of Hutao's open eyes. "How do you feel? Do your wounds still hurt?"
Hutao propped herself up and, moved by Yun Jin's concerned gaze, reached out and gently embraced her. "Yun Jin… thank you. And I'm sorry for worrying you."
Yun Jin hugged her back, patting her shoulder. "Silly girl, no need for apologies. We are friends. Friends help each other."
Just then, the door creaked open. Aether walked in with a bowl of medicinal broth. Relief flashed in his eyes when he saw Hutao awake. He set the bowl on the table. "It's good you're awake. The medicine is ready. Drink it while it's warm."
Hutao looked at Aether—the Traveler who always appeared when she needed him most—and an indescribable warmth welled up in her chest. She threw back the covers and stepped off the bed, ignoring the pain in her wounds, hurrying toward him and wrapping her arms tightly around him.
"Traveler…" Her voice trembled, yet it was clear. "Thank you… my hero."
Aether froze for a moment, then gently patted her back, whispering softly. "It's all right now. I'm here."
Sunlight streamed through the window, falling upon the three of them, chasing away the gloom of Chenyu Valley and the despair in Hutao's heart. Though the loss of four hundred companions grieved her deeply, with friends and a hero by her side, she knew this battle was not over.
Hutao would rise again. And she would continue to fight.