The sun dipped low behind the mountains, casting long shadows across the Wuyuan forest.
In the heart of Xingzhao, the villagers stood at their posts, nerves wound tight like drawn bowstrings. Smoke rose from the hearths, mingling with the scent of oil, iron, and pine. The forest, once their haven, now waited to become a battlefield. And from the east, the empire's fury came.
The Empire moved with precision. At sundown, General Qiu Wensheng raised his arm, and the horns blared.
The line of soldiers surged forward in perfect formation, armor gleaming red under torchlight. Behind them, fire-setters marched with flammable pots and tar, ready to burn the forest to ash. Qiu Wensheng's voice cut through the chaos like steel.
"Flush them out. Leave nothing standing."
From the western tree line, Captain Luo Jinled a flanking unit of fifty scouts, aiming to penetrate from the rear and strike the heart of Xingzhao's defenses. He smiled grimly, imagining the rebellion snuffed out in a single blow. He didn't know what was waiting for him.
Song Lianstood atop the newly reinforced barricades of the settlement. Her leather armor was worn and patched, her bow notched with a black-fletched arrow. She raised her arm. The villagers waited, breath held.
"Hold…" she whispered.
The first imperial squad entered the kill zone—a narrow corridor between tall pine trees, flanked by brush and false paths.
"Now."
TWANG!!!
A volley of arrows rained down from hidden platforms high in the trees. Flaming pots of resin followed, exploding against shields and lighting soldiers on fire. Men screamed and scattered straight into concealed spike pits and snare traps.
From the trees to the east, Yun Zhen gave the order, and the second line of defenders surged out: farmers turned fighters, wielding spears and torches, cutting through disoriented troops like scythes through wheat.
Wu Shunfought in the thick of it, roaring with every hammer swing. Beside him, Liang Chengloosed arrows with deadly accuracy, covering the rear ranks.
"Watch the flank!" Wu Shun bellowed.
"They're circling behind!"
Captain Luo Jin's rear flanking unit moved silently through the underbrush, confident the main force would distract the defenders.
But the path they took was no accident.
Jia Meihad mapped it three days ago.
When the first scout stepped into the clearing, a pressure plate clicked.
Boom!!!
The explosion knocked them off their feet, powder bombs made from salvaged fireworks and metal shards ripped through the squad.
From the trees above, defenders dropped nets and ropes, and a hail of rocks and boiling water followed. Luo Jin barely raised his shield in time.
He shouted, "Fall back! Regroup!"
But it was too late.Dozens of his men fell. The rest scattered. For the first time in his career, Luo Jin tasted fear. Frustrated by the resistance, Qiu Wensheng gave the final order.
"Burn it."
The fire-setters moved fast, pouring oil on tree trunks and lighting torches. Flames leapt high, devouring pine and underbrush alike.
The forest roared with heat and chaos.
But the villagers were ready. They had dug irrigation ditches, soaked the outer trees, and created firebreaks to isolate the blaze.
When the flames tried to leap the boundaries of Xingzhao, they choked on wet earth and black smoke. Still, the inferno raged just meters away—an unholy barrier between the village and the empire.
Amid the swirling ash, Yun Zhen faced Qiu Wensheng across the burning clearing.
The general raised his spear, mounted atop his black warhorse.
"You were supposed to be dead."
Yun Zhen stepped forward, sword in hand, face streaked with ash and blood. "You'll find I'm stubborn that way."
Qiu charged. So did Yun Zhen.
Their blades met with a sound like thunder—steel clashing against steel, sparks flying into the night. Qiu Wensheng was a trained general, every strike calculated and brutal. Yun Zhen fought like a tempest, each blow infused with fury, loss, and purpose.
The battle around them raged, Song Lian shooting down imperial archers from the watchtower, Wu Shun bashing enemies back from the gates, and villagers standing shoulder to shoulder to defend their home.
Qiu Wensheng pressed the advantage, striking Yun Zhen's side and forcing him to one knee. But Yun Zhen wasn't done.
He rolled, slashed upward, and cut through Qiu Wensheng's horse's reins. The beast reared, panicked, and Qiu Wensheng was thrown to the ground. Yun Zhen rose and pointed his sword at the general's throat.
"This ends here."
But Qiu Wenaheng snarled. "You think this matters? I am not the only one the Emperor will send. You've made war on the crown."
"I didn't start this war," Yun said. "But I'll finish it."
Before Yun could strike the killing blow, a horn sounded from the eastern edge of the forest.
Reinforcements. Not imperial. Civilians.
More refugees, rallying to Xingzhao's banner.
They'd heard the battle. And they were joining it. Qiu Wensheng fled with the last of his broken troops, bleeding and humiliated.
Smoke still curled from the trees as villagers tended to the wounded. Bodies were gathered, honored. Tears were shed. Songs were sung.
But above it all stood Yun Zhen, silent and strong. The people looked at him not as a fugitive but as a king. Song Lian stood beside him, exhaustion in her bones, soot on her cheeks.
"We held," she said quietly.
"For now," Yun answered. "But they'll come again."
She met his eyes. "Then we'll be ready."