Chapter 1

A loud clamor of pots and pans soared above the noise of the usual busy and not to mention, very noisy market as a group of children crashed against a stack of them, causing the poor peddler to curse in a fit as they ran after a little girl clad in loose worn-out garments.

The young girl scampered across the crowded streets of the town, clumsily bumping into adults who went about their business as she uttered a quick apology and continued to run, hoping to get the older children out of her trail. She quickly glanced behind her; squinting through her dark chestnut hair sprayed messily across her face as the wind rushed past the loose unkempt strands. She turned sharply to the street at her left with fewer people to bump into and continued running like a feeble prey attempting to escape the jaws of its predator—gasping for breath as exhaustion finally started to catch up with her.

To her relief, when she looked back, they were no longer in sight. She swallowed air in gallons and wiped the sweat that dripped off her face. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten anything but a measly piece of steamed rice cake that she bought after running errands the whole day under the scorching heat of a merciless sun.

Suddenly, as the girl exhaustedly started off back to the central plaza, a voice from afar bellowed: "There she is!" She caught sight of the familiar group of bullies that she had been running away from and instinctively, darted off towards the opposite direction for another chase. But before she could get away, it was already too late. The children caught up and surrounded her, and the biggest among the five bullies roughly picked her up by the collar of her clothing and taunted, "You little rascal. You think you can run away?" and threw her down into the dirt as he would a helpless kitten.

The girl scrambled up to her feet, her worn-out wooden slippers scratching the ground.

"Get away from me!" She cried out desperately, only to be answered with a painful kick to her stomach. She fell to her knees—clutching her belly as she drew a sharp breath. She would have screamed in agony, but the words were jammed up her throat.

It was followed with another kick, and no sooner did she collapse; feeling the coarse burning dust against her cheek…

If it is fate, it will happen… he thought. The Master Strategist fixed a contemplative gaze upon the flickering flame that seemingly danced to the command of the evening wind of Shanggui hills. Alone in his tent, as he often preferred, he reviewed once more the positions of his soldiers when they commence attack at the break of dawn.

There can be absolutely no room for error.

His somber eyes that matched his long ebony mane traced an imaginary path that his army would take as he predicted the vision of horrid images of oncoming warfare. Already, from this desolate space he could hear the sounds of metal clashing against metal and the ominous cries of pain that he had so long witnessed since the beginning of the war he hoped to end—and he would do everything in his power to do so. And tomorrow will be part of the long grueling process of it.

Tomorrow… the word played in his mind repeatedly. Upon him was the burden of leading an army that depended on him to come up of the most radical ways to measure up against a foe, far stronger and greater in number than they were. Concerning 'how'—it required storming heaven for answers. But that was for others.

He was Zhuge Liang… The Master Strategist of Shu. Known for making the impossible… inexplicably possible;bending circumstances according to his will in more often, unconventional ways; earning him the befitting title of The Sleeping Dragon, whose silent actions made him a fearsome and dangerous man. And as his name suggests, possessed the dangerous jaws of an unsuspecting behemoth, imprisoned in a shell of a simple Taoist sage, and playing behind the mask of plainness, a man of such inscrutable complexity.

Further heightening his secretive character were the round brooding black eyes that bore into his somber face, and in their coldness could seemingly freeze fire. But in them was also that gracious scholarly light by which his hardened gazes were softened up a bit. Apart from that was the enigmatic charm that laced the unfeeling harshness that he exuded—harshness that had only been painfully etched in his gait by a deep anguish of the past that continued to haunt him, cruelly snatching away from him innate peace.

Hence, night after night he deliberately resorted to immersing himself in whatever work he could grasp, if only to drown away these stirrings of guilt; until shouldering burdens of the kingdom had become simply second-nature.

It might have been pathetic, yes. But that was that. He had at one point morosely accepted things as is, and so allowed himself to comfortably dwell in loneliness. Try as people around him may to object, he remained resolute, laying out before them the living proof of their failed attempts.

The north wind blew into the tent.

"Kongming."

The sound of the familiar nickname whisked the Master away from the deep rivers of thought. He turned his attention to the young man who stood by the entrance of his tent—his illuminated figure created a stark contrast against the night sky behind him.

"Ah, it is you Jiang Wei." Zhuge Liang spoke in a welcoming tone. "What brings you here at this unholy hour?" He sounded much friendlier compared to that usual formal tone he'd use in the royal court.

"I saw the light coming from your tent. It was the only one left lit in the camp. I figured you were worried about tomorrow, sir." Jiang Wei spoke earnestly.

"Perhaps, I am."

"I see no need for you to worry though, my lord. We've been preparing for so long! As a matter of fact, it puzzles me—what took you so long before you finally decided you that we should attack, my lord?"

"We cannot commence attack prematurely, Jiang Wei," Liang scolded gently; deftly picking up his immaculate white feather fan that had been resting on the table. Its silvery hairs shimmered beautifully with a soft orange glow. "If we had immediately pursued offense, we would deplete our very limited supplies. Opportunity is a slippery fish in the sea. If we want to catch it, we have to be prepared and make sure that it will not get away." Zhuge Liang said the last words with such severity. But the words came out more like whispers from a calm breeze.
"Your intuition truly amazes me my lord." The young apprentice smiled.

A small grin crept unto Zhuge Liang's face, feeling quite self-satisfied at the acknowledgment. Deep down, he still was inexorably confident. Smug perhaps. He had all the reason to be.

"You look very weary, my lord. You must rest."

Zhuge Liang nodded his head in agreement. He was either up so late at night, or he was simply too early for tomorrow—he could no longer tell. He had been pondering about his plans for hours.

"I shall. You should as well, Jiang Wei. It makes me wonder why you have to bother coming here all the way from the west camp."

"Ah, but I am merely concerned, my lord. I hope you still remember your close encounter." His mentor chuckled. As if that instance wherein he fell gravely ill after overexerting himself meant nothing at all. Maybe he had desired it back then, and remembering it now… he found it dryly amusing. Why had he overworked again?

"Yes, of course." He nodded his head in resignation.

"Then please rest now, my lord. You are most essential to our success." Jiang Wei lithely bowed and spinning on his heel, turned to leave the tent. Zhuge Liang watched as the shadow of his apprentice fade. The little space of his tent suddenly felt immense, as if Jiang Wei's presence had swept away the emptiness and upon leaving, let it fill in the hole again.
And sitting there alone, he felt like the earth beneath his feet was much too vast.

Zhuge Liang stood up and stretched his arms above his head, uncoiling the tension on his shoulders. He drew in a deep breath and in exhaling it, hoped to clear his mind. It was only then that he realized how very tired he was; so tired he would have opted to simply fall asleep over his work like he often did, to just bury his head in his arms until he could feel the cool morning mist brush against his skin.

But he strained to keep his drooping eyelids open and walked out of his bare shelter, escaping for a moment from the vacuum that threatened to suck all that's left of what she had taken away.

The Sleeping Dragon cast a gaze upon the huge bright moon that illuminated the black sky appearing like a queen of the stars. It felt closer than it had ever been—seemingly at arm's length, being a dubitable argument to the one with the knowledge of the stars that it was merely impossible; that the moon would remain beyond reach, eternally distant, just a shining object in the heavens that lay unfathomable by the human mind.

The evening breeze gently blew against the tail of his long overcoat, carrying with it the sweet song of the crickets that hid among the bushes. Resting against his chest was the long white feathers of his beautiful peacock fan, as if to appease the throbbing in his heart. This stillness that brought about memories of pain that remained unhealed by time… How long has it been? Or more accurately, how long has time not passed for him?

On that day that she died—he knew that his entire being had died with her. If not for this war, he would have literally followed her into the afterlife, intentionally or not.

"I hope…" He whispered, though nothing would have heard him. He was talking to the darkness. To an unseen figure. "That you are well where you are now. My wife… Yue Ying."

* * *

Upon returning to the west camp, Jiang Wei decided to stroll around for a while—occasionally greeting the soldiers on their evening shifts. People like him… Warriors… it had become habitual to live on little sleep, keeping vigil with only the stars for company; those silver stones sewn into the silky amethyst skies watching the world like they were guardians of the evening.

It was as if they were the very eyes of heaven themselves.

Jiang Wei closed his eyes and let the cool evening wind sweep away his anxiety, soaking himself in the tranquil silence.

May heaven protect us all.

Without warning, sharp frantic calls from atop the watchtowers did not hesitate to shatter the silence.

"A raid! A raid!" a patrol guard screamed, his tone heavy with an unbounded urgency.

A troupe of shadows from afar was rushing at them in incredible haste—systematically. Their movement was precise and well calculated. They were all dressed in black, blending into the darkness of the evening and sprang out like phantoms upon entering the light of the camp.

A flurry of arrows was immediately released by the archers, unsure of where they would land and while the Shu soldiers scrambled about in confusion, the raiders had surprisingly avoided the attack. They barged into the camp, springing out of the shadows like the phantoms they were.

As the other vanguards automatically teemed at the entrance and attempted to ward them off, a second group arrived to back them up, doubling the powerful force that the distraught soldiers feebly tried to counter. Explosives started blowing up here and there—and in an instant, the entire camp had been wrapped in fear.

Jiang Wei immediately sent word to the main camp, calling for reinforcements before dashing into the thick gray clouds of smoke. This is absolutely reckless and insane! He thought. These raiders…Haven't they figured that I can easily call for reinforcements? But then he thought better and became rather thankful that these intruders failed to realize that mistake.

And as soon as he arrived, he battered one of the intruders with the butt end of his spear, saving the poor lieutenant who nearly got hacked by the sword of his opponent. Skillfully, Jiang Wei disarmed another couple and nimbly dodged their blows.

It was then that one of the raiders confronted him—the captain perhaps, Jiang Wei guessed. He saw the pair of swords this treacherous enemy held, how the sharp edges glimmered so dangerously in the light of the torches—the points, curving like the cruel talons of a falcon. These weapons… there was something oddly familiar about them.

Jiang Wei found himself staring at an opponent wearing an ashen white mask the shape of a wolf's that stood out against his ensemble of dark clothing; vaguely revealing only half of his face. The carved out eyes bore the same fatal look that one would see in the wild animal, and though he could not see the human eyes that hid behind them, he knew that his opponent was glaring at him, sizing him up, like a lion would before pouncing on his prey.

Suddenly, the masked warrior let out a roar and darted towards Jiang Wei. In a flash he had swung his right hand and delivered a powerful blow. On impulse, Jiang Wei quickly held up his spear in time to protect his self and a loud clash of iron sung.

Their feet both seemed to hover off the ground as they moved about in intense speed, making nimble quick steps as they exchanged attacks. But Jiang Wei sensed something… something odd about his opponent. After years of fighting, he would know if an enemy was eager to dig his sword unto his neck, but this one… there was hesitation that lay behind the animal-like strength that powered the swift strikes.

Why?

Jiang Wei was caught by perilous distraction. His foot landed wrongly, creating an opening in his tight defenses. The masked warrior immediately took advantage of the situation, and soon enough he had placed himself behind Jiang Wei, both swords held just a hair strand away from his neck.

"What do you want from me?" Jiang Wei hissed.

"Drop the weapon." The tone was icy and demanding. Chances of escape from him were slim, and so slowly, and hesitantly, Jiang Wei let the iron handle slip off his hands until it dropped to the floor with a loud clatter. It felt humiliating to feel so helpless, but life at the moment was more important than pride.

Where were the reinforcements? He agitatedly thought.

"Soldiers!" the masked warrior bellowed, "Regroup! We got what we need. Let's go!" and just like that, the raiders pushed back the soldiers just enough so that they can escape. One of the masked warrior's men ran towards them, and as carefully planned out as it had been; he pulled out a thick roll of cord and wound it tightly around the hostage.

"I'm not here to kill you, nor kill your men. Just cooperate. I'll explain everything later." The captain said to Jiang Wei hastily.

As soon as the footman secured a knot, the masked warrior sheathed one of his swords and pushed his hostage out into the fields outside the camp where two caravans and a group of horsemen awaited.

The camp faded into the darkness of the night. Jiang Wei knew that it won't be long enough until they find out about his disappearance—and it seemed that his hostage-taker was as well fully aware of it. But there was that clever plan of dividing the group into two and as he felt the cart swerve sharply into another path which he knew, with his natural talent of deduction, would meet up with the other group.

The reigns snapped several times and they sped even faster, into the unknown until the tall beds of swaying cogon grass disappeared behind them.

And while Jiang Wei sat in the thick layers of straw that covered the wooden boards, he found himself staring at the ghastly wolf mask directly in front of him. It was fearsome and very alive, and beautiful in its amazing craftsmanship; further was a certain allure in the smooth curves and depressions that molded the viciousness that the mask conjured.

But what drew his attention most was what lay behind the narrow holes from which the wearer viewed his surroundings. He unconsciously forced himself to see through the veil of darkness.

And what he saw overwhelmed his expectation that it stunned him, shocked him: a pair of dark eyes, disturbingly familiar to him, catching the ethereal glow of the moon.

Whew! That was some editing. As you see, I've merged the first and second chapter because I thought that they might as well come together to have a more continuous flow to the story. I recently spent a couple of days taking an independent crash-course at trying to improve my writing by burying myself in a pile of novels and short stories that lay around the house. I hope my efforts have not been that desperate. Or are they? Ahahaha.

And so as you've read, I've revealed something I only planned to reveal until later: Yue Ying is dead as far as this fanfic is concerned. Please don't get me wrong, I like Yue Ying--as a matter of fact, I think she's one of the interesting [and often overlooked] characters of DW. But for the purpose of this fic, I'm sorry but she'll have to stay out of the picture--physically, I mean. The fic actually will revolve around an issue with her, so stick around!

I'd appreciate so much if I could receive at least one review to acknowledge my efforts. I swear, reading random books in front of a load of schoolwork isn't very… fun [not while you're attempting to start the new school year right by being more… focused].

So please. Yes, I'm begging you. Leave a review and make me happy :)

Thank you! XDDD

P.S. I'll be doing some editing to the other chapters as well so excuse the weird numberings on the page; just don't pay attention to them. And for the meantime, you may not see any added chapters yet. But I beg that you to please still support me, I want to give my best for this first fic of mine, so I apologize for having posted it in a hurry without further editing stuff. Thank You. :)