Chapter 30: The Flames of South Changshan
Three commanders rode south with Li Shuang.
All three were borrowed from the General’s Mansion, and—without exception—each had once walked the paths of the jianghu. The most capable among them was Fu Changqing, former Master of the Green Forest Sect.
Years ago, while being hunted by his enemies, Fu Changqing had been saved by Great General Li Lan, who at that time was leading troops to the frontier. To repay that life-saving debt, Fu Changqing joined the army under Li Lan’s banner. Over the years, he followed the Great General through campaigns north and south, earning fame as one of Great Jin’s most renowned commanders.
When Li Shuang asked her father for assistance, before the old general could even speak, Fu Changqing stepped forward. “I will go,” he said. His past ties to the southwest made him the most familiar with that land’s dangers.
When they reached within tens of li of South Changshan, Li Shuang ordered the army to halt and make camp.
The southern lands differed greatly from the frozen Northern Frontier. Here, the tents were woven with gauze to ward off snakes and insects, and the air was heavy with humidity.
As soon as they stopped, Li Shuang commanded pest-repelling incense to be burned throughout the camp.
Fu Changqing came to her tent, worry etched across his scarred face. “General,” he said, “burning so much incense will draw attention. South Changshan will see our smoke.”
Li Shuang, lighting another stick, didn’t look up. “It doesn’t matter. What’s frightening about the Wu Ling Gate isn’t their people—it’s their insects. If they see us, so be it. I don’t plan to fight them.”
Fu Changqing blinked. “No plans to fight?” He looked outside at the campfires dotting the night. “Then… these fifty thousand soldiers?”
Li Shuang waved her hand calmly and summoned the other two commanders. A map was unrolled upon the table, the flickering candlelight casting mountains into trembling shadows.
“Commander Fu,” she said, “you know this region best. Which mountain has Wu Ling Gate occupied all these years?”
Fu Changqing pointed at several dark patches on the parchment. “Few have ever returned from their territory. These areas—here, here, and here—are all forbidden zones.”
Li Shuang circled the region with a thin rod. “All within South Changshan?”
“Yes.”
She thought for a long moment. “Wu Ling Gate controls Gu insects. I’ve seen their methods—they’re unlike any battlefield tactics. Our soldiers would be helpless in close combat.”
Fu Changqing nodded. “Their numbers are few, but their Gu arts are deadly. If we took time to teach our men how to repel insects, we could fight through—”
Li Shuang shook her head. “We don’t have that much time.”
Her finger moved decisively across the map. “Fifty thousand troops—divide into three routes. The Left Commander will take twenty thousand east. Commander Qian, twenty thousand west. Surround South Changshan. Cut down every tree, isolate the mountain completely. Commander Fu, keep ten thousand to guard the camp. I will negotiate with the Wu Ling Gate Master myself. If negotiations fail—”
Her finger stopped on the mountain’s heart.
“Burn it.”
The tent fell silent. Even the candles seemed to flicker with unease.
Fu Changqing finally understood. The fifty thousand troops weren’t for conquest—they were for leverage.
For years, Wu Ling Gate had been rooted in South Changshan. To them, it was sacred land. Li Shuang was gambling that they would not dare risk its destruction.
It was a brilliant move—sharp and unyielding, just like the Great General’s daughter.
When she asked, “Do the three commanders have objections?” their answer was swift and unanimous:
“We accept the command!”
They saluted and left.
Li Shuang gazed at South Changshan’s distant peaks, glowing under the southern sun. From frostbitten battlefields to the warm winds of midsummer, she had crossed the whole of Great Jin—yet peace still eluded her.
Was he still there? Still suffering? Or… already gone?
If he had perished, what meaning did her reckless thousand-li journey still hold?
The southern breeze drifted into her tent, brushing her cheek like a whisper. Her heart trembled—an emotion swift and inexplicable, gone as soon as it came.
Two days later, the forest at the mountain’s foot had been cleared. Li Shuang sent a messenger to request a meeting with Wu Yin, the Master of Wu Ling Gate.
But when the messenger returned, Wu Yin himself walked beside him.
He arrived as though attending a spring gathering, wearing silk robes, a jade fan in hand, his long hair loosely tied. His expression was light, almost playful.
Li Shuang went out to meet him. When his gaze found her, his smile brightened—gentle, almost teasing.
“Oh, General Li,” he said, closing his fan, “it’s been quite some time.”
The soldiers around them watched curiously. To them, Wu Yin seemed harmless, almost elegant. But Li Shuang knew better—this man’s body was filled with venomous Gu, each capable of striking at any moment.
She stared coldly, then nodded toward the messenger. “Withdraw your Gu,” she said, “and we’ll talk properly.”
Wu Yin smiled. “Of course, I didn’t come to harm anyone.”
He placed his palm near the messenger’s ear. A black insect crawled out, glistening in the sunlight. The messenger’s eyes rolled back as he collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
The soldiers gasped, stepping back in horror.
Wu Yin retrieved the insect with a faint smile, his tone light as if discussing the weather.
Li Shuang’s eyes hardened. “Please,” she said, gesturing to the tent, “inside.”
In the tent, Li Shuang sat at the head seat, concealing her urgency beneath composure.
“The Wu Ling Gate Master arrives swiftly,” she said, “not even giving me time to prepare a welcome.”
Wu Yin chuckled. “Aren’t the trenches your soldiers dug at my mountain’s base welcome enough?”
Li Shuang sipped her tea calmly. “The fire hasn’t been lit yet. Hardly a welcome.”
He laughed. “Decisive as ever. I thought you meant to bury fifty thousand men, but no—you plan to bury my South Changshan.”
“Gate Master exaggerates,” she replied coolly. “Li Shuang came only to find someone. If he’s here, the mountain stands. If he’s gone—then this mountain of dead wood serves no purpose.”
Her voice was quiet, but the steel beneath it could cleave through kingdoms.
Previous/Next
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
