"A fortress is strongest where the enemy thinks it weakest." — Old strategist's proverb
Three days after Yi Fen's departure, a hawk arrived.
Not a messenger. Not a bird trained to carry scrolls.
A real hawk — bloody-taloned, panting, nearly dead. Tied to its leg was a scrap of silk, scorched at the edges. Huai unwrapped it slowly, holding his breath.
Inside: only six words, stitched in dark thread.
"South gate unmanned. Two nights only."
Beneath it, a mark — not signed, not named. But Huai recognized the needlework.
Qin Rui.
An old spy. One of theirs. Thought lost months ago.
Xu Liang read the message beside him, eyes narrowing. "It's a trap."
"Maybe," Huai said. "But maybe not."
Longchuan was the crown jewel of the north. The logistics hub. The army's stomach.
If Huai could burn its granaries, flood its roads, or even plant fear in its streets — the empire's campaign might collapse before spring.
But it was suicide.
They had seventy men left. Fewer weapons. No maps.
And yet—
When Huai brought the message to the council, no one mocked.
Because they were starving. Because they were dying anyway.
And because for the first time in weeks, they saw a direction.
"We go silent," Huai said. "Only twenty. The rest stay to hold Moquan."
Xu Liang raised a brow. "That fortress is already ash."
"It's still ours," Huai replied. "And if we're caught at Longchuan, they'll come here next. Someone needs to hold the fire."
Qiao — the scribe's daughter — offered first. She'd never held a blade, but she knew the patrol rotations from a prisoner's journal they had stolen weeks ago.
Then an old miner.
Then the tower boy.
Soon, the twenty were chosen.
No fanfare.
No goodbye speeches.
Just eyes.
And oaths.
They left before dawn. No drums. No banners. Just snow underfoot, and breath in the air like ghosts chasing them down the valley.
Huai led at the front, axe slung behind him, torch unlit in his hand.
They moved like smoke.
And behind them, Moquan grew small — a ruined crown of stone on a dead mountain.
But not yet forgotten.
Not yet surrendered.