Volume II, Big Summer Dynasty Chapter 17: Divide
The north wind had been blowing the snow relentlessly, obscuring the pale moon that usually brings thick, dense flakes resembling goose feathers, nearly blinding the eyes.
Snow blanketed the dark sky, and from time to time, the desolate howl of a night owl echoed, its massive black wings hovering in the air. From above, there was a breathtaking view of the pearly, bright, and sparkling glaciers. On the outskirts of these glaciers, a group of campers—worn and weary, with gaunt, yellowed faces—struggled to survive. Although they were thin, their faces retained a faint beauty, but that did little to promise an easy or painless journey ahead.
The biting north wind penetrated the campers' ragged clothing, and the snowy air felt like knives slicing into their purple, frozen skin. When the wind suddenly howled, the campers had to brace themselves against its piercing cold. There were no walls to protect them as they crossed the Red Chuan plateau in the heart of winter. Many of them would not last long.
A baby's cry broke through the wind, its soft wailing growing louder, spreading throughout the camp.
A sharp "Whiz!" whispered through the air, and the bleak-faced convoy of riding generals turned their attention to the crying child. One of them rode up to the baby's mother and snapped, "Quiet that baby!"
But how could an infant obey such orders? The crying continued. One man wearing a mask frowned, quickly stepped forward, and bent down to grab the baby from the young woman's arms. He lifted the child high before brutally throwing it to the ground.
"Ahhhh!" The mother screamed, dropping to her knees. She clung to the lifeless baby in her arms, tears streaming down her face.
The generals, sharp-eyed and riding at the front of the camp, watched in silence. No one dared to speak.
Under the dark sky, only the heart-wrenching sobs of the unfortunate mother could be heard. One of the cold-hearted generals unsheathed his sword and, with no remorse, struck the woman, severing her spine. Blood splattered across the pale snow.
Chu Qiao's breath caught in her throat as she bit her lip, her hands clenched with anger. She whispered, "We must help them."
"Do you want to die?" whispered Yan Xun, pulling her close. His voice trembled as he whispered into her ear, "They are soldiers of the Wei Imperial family. Don't act recklessly."
"Over here!" called one of the black-helmeted generals. The soldiers, donning cold iron helmets, descended. They drew their swords and bound the feet of those who had knelt in submission.
The general's eyes were cold and without mercy. His thin lips tightened into a straight line, and in a chilling voice, he uttered a single word: "Kill."
"Shuak!" The soldiers' swords swung in unison. Young, emotionless men with iron stares executed the order without hesitation. Heads rolled, falling onto the thick snow as blood spurted from their necks, pooling on the ice in warm, crimson streams that quickly froze in the frigid air.
Chu Qiao watched from her hiding place, her heart clenched tightly. Her eyes, usually filled with light, now burned with fury. Yan Xun, sensing her anger, tightened his hold on her. He could feel the fire coursing through her veins, and it made him hesitate. He didn't dare meet her eyes, yet the warmth of her small frame nearly scorched his hands.
Yan Xun observed the empire's rulers and generals as they mercilessly decapitated civilians. What once seemed routine to him now stirred something deep inside. He had long been hardened to such violence, but now he felt the layers of his callousness begin to peel away. It wasn't just their heads they were cutting off—it was his own sense of justice.
With each swing of the saber, more blood splattered. The outlander civilians remained calm, showing no fear. Chu Qiao noticed that this was not the numbness of hopelessness, nor the resignation of despair, but rather a quiet, steadfast hatred. There were no tears, no screams, no curses—only silent defiance. Even the children in the camp behaved obediently, watching as their families were butchered one by one.
Chu Qiao's fists trembled. Anger and hatred simmered beneath the surface, ready to explode. She was ready to strike at the bloodthirsty soldiers.
Suddenly, the sound of rapid hoofbeats echoed in the distance, and a man's voice rang out: "Stop!"
A white horse galloped into view, and a young man leaped from the saddle. He stormed toward the general and lashed out with his whip, knocking the sword from the soldier's hand. Blocking the path of the executioners, he yelled, "Mu He, what do you think you're doing?"
"Major General Shu Ye," Mu He replied, frowning. "I have military orders to execute these people." He saluted reluctantly but held his ground.
"Who gave you this authority? Who allows such senseless slaughter?" Shu Ye demanded. "Why do you bring chaos upon these people?"
Mu He, resolute as a stone, responded, "These people fled the rule of Sheng Jin Gong. The decree was personally authorized by your uncle, with the approval of the entire Wei household. We are only fulfilling the order. Even your brother from the old Wei courtyard endorsed it. We are under oath to obey, and it's not our place to question these decisions."
Shu Ye stood stunned. He turned to face the outlanders, one by one. Despite their impending deaths, they showed no trace of fear. But when they saw Shu Ye, their eyes burned with barely concealed rage. An old woman stood up, defying the soldiers in front of her. She spat at Shu Ye and cursed, "You liar! Shameless messenger! God will punish you!"
Without warning, a long, sharp sword flashed, slicing through the woman's waist. Blood gushed from the wound, but with her last breath, she spat on Shu Ye's white robe and rasped, "Do not… let them… win…"
Shu Ye stood silently, unfazed by the blood on his robe. His gaze drifted over the bodies strewn across the ground and the countless eyes staring at him with hatred.
Mu He sighed, stepping forward. "Major General," he said coldly, "the empire will not continue to fund these people. You must respect the family's will. We are here to safeguard the interests of Wei."
Shu Ye's heart pounded in his chest, his eyes bloodshot. He restrained himself, but barely.
Mu He signaled to the soldiers, who raised their swords once again to resume the slaughter.
"A bad man!" A child's voice cried out. Shu Ye turned and saw a small face, tearless but red-eyed, peeking from his mother's arms. "Liar! You said you would take us to the emperor, that we would live in houses that don't leak, that we would be fed and kept warm! You said—"
Before the child could finish, an arrow shot from Mu He's bow, silencing the boy forever.
"Seize the Major General!" Mu He commanded, and the soldiers rushed forward, restraining Shu Ye as he struggled to stop the killing.
What followed was a bloodbath, with both soldiers and civilians slaughtered in a gruesome display. The hawks circling above shrieked as they witnessed the carnage below. Bodies were hastily buried in mass graves, and the snow continued to fall, covering the blood-soaked ground.
Shu Ye, once a young and handsome Major General of the Wei state, stood powerless before the massacre. His subordinates, mistaken in their belief that these civilians were low-ranking vagabonds, had lost all reason.
Mu He approached Shu Ye, his gaze cold. "Major General, these people insulted your ancestors. They are of humble blood, and you should not have fought against your own. Your uncle has high expectations of you, and you must honor your heritage."
Shu Ye remained silent, his chest tight with rage. Mu He sighed again, and the soldiers began to retreat. Slowly, the brigade of horses disappeared into the distance.
Shu Ye stood alone in the falling snow, the weight of his family's expectations and the horrors of the day pressing down on him. Hidden in the snow, two children who had witnessed the massacre watched in stunned silence as the powerful Major General knelt toward the graves of the dead, kowtowed heavily, and then rode away.
The snow continued to fall, covering the ground in a thick, silent blanket. One of the children stirred, moving her frozen limbs before stepping forward, though her body trembled.
"What are you doing?" Yan Xun asked, startled as he stood up.
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The child turned to him, her gaze sharp and calm, a quiet determination in her voice. "I am of an indecent race, one with humble blood. We do not walk the same path. It's better we part ways."
Chu Qiao's heart had grown cold and distant. Though still a child, Yan Xun felt that one day, she would hold the fate of the empire in her hands. The heavy snow revealed two sets of footprints, slowly diverging, as they walked away from the heart of the great empire.