A bitter wind swept through Yuanjiang Pass.
The mountain gorge was narrow and steep, jagged cliffs rose on both sides like the teeth of some ancient beast. Snow from the night before had not yet melted and the white ground mixed with blood to form a red slush.
The war cries echoed against the mountain walls and steels clashed with no pause.
Throughout the battlefield horses screamed as they reared with their hooves striking the churned earth. Broken spears and bodies lay scattered across the ground while soldiers surged forward in uneven waves; shouting, falling and rising again.
The battlefield was a complete chaos, Li Zhen moved through it like a blade cutting through grass.
His armor was splattered with blood, some of it his enemies', some of it his own soldiers', though he paid no mind. His long sword thrust forward, the edge flashing briefly before disappearing into the chest of a Yanxi soldier who had rushed toward him. The soldier staggered, choking on his blood, his eyes widening in disbelief and then he collapsed.
Li Zhen's expression did not faze he drew his sword free without hesitation. Another soldier lunged from his side with a spear. The movement was fast, desperate, but Li Zhen reacted faster. He stepped half a pace back, letting the spear point scrape along the metal of his armor and at the same time his sword came down in a swift arc.
The spear wielder's neck split open and his hot blood sprayed across the snow. He folded lifelessly on Li Zhen's blade and Li Zhen shifted his grip again.
Surrounding him the soldiers of the Raven banner army pressed forward, following his carved path through the enemy ranks. Wherever Li Zhen stepped, a gap would open in the Yanxi formation. No one could stop his descent and if they tried he couldn't be stopped for long.
Deep within the Yanxi ranks, a low horn blasted, echoing throughout the whole mountain gorge. The Yanxi soldiers suddenly shifted their formations forming a pathway in the middle of their ranks.
A tall, heavily built man stepped forward. His armor was dark, his cloak torn by battle, and his long, blood coated spear rested easily in his hand. He had a long grotesque line, made of raised flesh, that ran from his hairline through his eye and ended at his chin. Even from a distance there was a frightening ambience surrounding him and when he smiled the scar moved along making him look less like a human and more like a demon.
The Yanxi soldiers behind him seemed to recover their courage and motivation.
"General Zhuo!" A hoarse hopeful voice cried out from within the Yanxi ranks.
Li Zhen slowed slightly and his dark eyes lifted; this was the Yanxi commander.
General Zhuo Feng.
The man studied Li Zhen steadily from across the blood soaked ground, his eyes dancing with cruel excitement.
For a moment neither of them moved, snow drifted between them and the broken banners flapped weakly in the cold wind. Then Zhuo Feng's lips curved into a faint, deliberate smile that did not reach his eyes at all.
"So" he said, his low voice rolled easily over the deafening roar of battle "the famous War Hound of Ming."
Li Zhen did not award him with any answer. His eyes remained fixed on him, unreadable and ice-cold.
Zhuo Feng's smile widened even more at Li Zhen, he now looked the epitome of a starving hyena that had finally found his first meal.
"Let us see," he said, adjusting his grip on the spear, "whether the rumors are exaggerated."
The ground between them vanished almost instantly, Zhuo Feng's spear struck first. The spearhead cut through the air with frightening speed and power, aimed straight for Li Zhen's throat. Li Zhen twisted his body just enough for the attack to pass beside him but the spearhead grazed his armour.
The second strike followed simultaneously, allowing no room for pauses or falters. Then a third, Zhuo Feng's movements were smooth and relentless, the long spear spinning through the air in flashing arcs. His each strike carried the full force of a seasoned general who had spent half his life on battlefields.
Li Zhen blocked the next attack with his sword and the collision of their metal rang sharply throughout the field. The force of the strike traveled down Li Zhen's arm and he clenched his jaw from the pressure as he pushed his sword tightly against the spear. Neither of their weapons moved as they entered a tense stalemate.
Then Zhuo Feng twisted the spear suddenly, forcing Li Zhen to step back to avoid the swing at his neck. The Yanxi general advanced quickly , his spear thrust forward again and again, each of his strikes increasing in speed and precision.
Li Zhen's sword moved in response; Block, deflect and turn.
His boots slid slightly on the dark stained snow as he adjusted his footing. The spear came close enough that he could feel the wind of its passage against his cheek.
Zhuo Feng was a very skilled fighter.
Their weapons clashed again, the impact sent sparks scattering through the air. The nearby soldiers had formed a wide perimeters, their weapons clashed slower as they kept just enough distance to avoid the deadly reach of their leaders.
Zhuo Feng suddenly shifted his stance and his spear swept low toward Li Zhen's legs. Li Zhen jumped back reflexively as the spear missed his feet by a finger's width. Zhuo Feng had already moved again, the spear shaft spun in his hands and the blade drove forward toward Li Zhen's chest.
This time Li Zhen did not retreat, he stepped in, allowing the spearhead to scrape across his shoulder's armor as he closed the distance between them. Before Zhuo Feng could pull back, Li Zhen's sword slashed upward. The blade cut across Zhuo Feng's forearm and blood appeared instantly.
The Yanxi general's grip faltered for the briefest second but it was enough. Li Zhen struck again, his sword swept across in a brutal horizontal arc. Zhuo Feng barely managed to raise the spear shaft to block it.
His spear pole cracked under the force and both men staggered back a step. For the first time Zhuo Feng's expression morphed, his faint, mocking smile had turned into a mask of focus.
They circled each other slowly, snow fell softly between them and Zhuo Feng wiped the blood from his arm with the back of his hand.
Then he laughed his voice devoid of any humour. "Good," he said in a low tone. He lunged forward again, too fast for the watching soldiers to follow. His spear struck, Li Zhen twisted aside, the sword flashed.
For what felt like an endless purgatory, all that could be seen was an endless blur of sharp movements. Then Li Zhen feinted left, darted right, sliding under the spear and in one sharp, fluid movement pivoted behind the general.
Zhuo Feng's body swayed, a thin red line appeared across his throat and his spear slipped from his fingers. He collapsed into the snow as a still silence spread across the battlefield.
"The General is dead!" The shouts tore through the Yanxi ranks.
Some soldiers paused fighting and dropped their spears and blades with wide eyes and some continued fighting as a last ditch effort.
Li Zhen did not move. He stood among the carnage and winter flakes, his eyes were still and glacial as he watched them scatter.
A few soldiers surrendered first, then more as panic trickled down the mountain pass.
Li Zhen dug his sword into the soil, his muscles relaxing, the exhausting battle had finally ended.
Not far from Yuanjiang Pass, a quiet village sat beside a wide river. The villagers of Longqiao had woken that morning to the sound of approaching soldiers.
Men in Raven banner armor rode into the village square. One of them stepped forward, holding up a metal badge; the badge of Li Zhen.
"The Crown Prince has given orders," the man announced coldly. "Yanxi spies are hiding here. The entire village will be purged."
Panic spread immediately. The villagers began shouting, pleading and some tried to run. They were cut down mercilessly before they reached the road.
The soldiers moved toward the dam above the river, heavy tools struck the stone structure. The crack spread through the old wall and water began to pour through. At first it was only a trickle, then the dam gave way. The roar of the flood swallowed the entire village.
Li Zhen returned to the Raven banner camp shortly after sunset. Snow still clung to the edges of the mountains and the wind had grown colder. As he dismounted from his horse, a familiar voice called out.
"Your Highness." Zhou Wei, Li Zhen's right-hand man and second-in-command approached with an easy, upbeat grin, his armor damaged but his mood unusually pleasant.
"That was quite the battle," he said, walking alongside Li Zhen. "The Yanxi general fought well. I almost felt sorry for him when you beheaded him."
Li Zhen walked past him. Zhou Wei quickened his pace to catch up to him.
"Still," Zhou Wei continued, "cutting down Zhuo Feng like that will give the Yanxi court nightmares." Li Zhen said nothing.
They had nearly reached the command tent when another man approached in a hurry. Liang Shu. Li Zhen's calm, studious advisor rarely lost his composure but today his face was deathly pale.
"Your Highness," he said nervously, "there is a problem." Li Zhen paused in his tracks.
"What problem?" His voice was cold and sharp.
Liang Shu hesitated. "A village... near the river. Longqiao village."
"What about it?"
"The dam above the village was destroyed."
Li Zhen's eyes narrowed slightly. "How many casualties?"
Liang Shu swallowed. "Most of the villagers are dead." The air grew very still.
"Who gave the order?" Li Zhen asked his tone bone-chilling.
Liang Shu's expression tightened. "The soldiers claimed they were acting under your command, your highness."
For the first time that day Li Zhen's gaze contained something other than coldness, it filled with murderous anger. "Take me there."
What remained of Longqiao village looked like the aftermath of a nightmare. Water still rushed through the broken streets and homes had collapsed into piles of soaked timber and shattered tiles. Bodies laid everywhere, some were tangled in broken carts and others had been carried by the current and thrown against the remains of the village wall.
The smell of mud, blood, and river water filled the air. A soaked woman knelt beside a body in the dirt, shaking it desperately while nearby a lone child cried weakly.
Li Zhen stepped slowly through the wreckage, his boots sank into the wet ground. This was no battlefield, there had been no fight here but it was laid with corpses.
Zhou Wei stood silently behind him, his previous, upbeat mood had turned into grave mortification.
"Find the men responsible," Li Zhen commanded.
"They're already being rounded up, your highness." Liang Shu replied, he raised his hand to signal the guards. Several men were dragged forward, their armor marked them clearly as soldiers of Li Zhen's army. One of them trembled violently while another stared at the ground in a petrified stillness.
Li Zhen's gaze settled on the man at the center. "You," he said coolly. "Who gave the order?" The man looked up, fear flickered across his face but he said nothing.
Li Zhen's patience was short. "Answer." Still nothing. Li Zhen stepped forward, his gaze narrowed on the man like a drawn blade. The man suddenly bit down on something hidden beneath his tongue. Foam spilled from his mouth and within seconds he collapsed dead.
Li Zhen glanced at the corpses once before looking away. "Search them." The soldiers obeyed but they found nothing. There was no badge, no order, nothing that could prove who had truly commanded the massacre.
Li Zhen looked across the ruined village with a cold annoyance; evidence gone, witnessed dead, only the devastation remained.
Lines of frustration etched into his face, mixing into his cold expression.
Somewhere, someone had planned this carefully and they had framed him for it.