the rise of phoenixes
She saw a young man in a watery sky-cyan robe atop a snowy white mountain holding hands with an adorable young girl, smiling together and looking out at the broad, vast world.
She saw a handsome and bright man atop a handsome horse galloping across the endless steppes...
“Clang!”
Metal screeched against metal and sparks flew before her, the dazzling light forcing her to narrow her eye.
A person rolled over beside her, gasping. Feng Zhiwei turned her head to look into Hua Qiong’s mud covered face.
She stared at the young woman, no words on her lips. Hua Qiong smiled fearlessly, her bright voice unmarred by the mud and dirt as she said: “Hey, playing hero without me?”
Feng Zhiwei stared at her and the two mud and blood splattered woman smiled at each other; blades ringed them from above, swords aimed at their hearts, but they only had eyes for each other.
Some of the soldiers who had not yet made it up the cliffside looked back and saw Feng Zhiwei and Hua Qiong surrounded, so they cut their ropes and leaped down.
Feng Zhiwei clenched her teeth and climbed to her feet with Hua Qiong’s assistance, the two women supporting each other, leaning on their weapons, determined smiles on their lips as they faced their thousand enemies.
With brave blade they struck.
Blood splashed as they trades a slash for a life, every step reaping another death. Feng Zhiwei knew in her heart that the cavalry was not yet here, but if the enemies caught up to Helian Zheng and Gu Nanyi, the steppe elites would not be able to guarantee their lives. She never loved the desperate fight, but for now there was no choice.
Her body was strengthless, so she feinted and baited enemies in for Hua Qiong to finish them; the pair fought as one, and soon corpses were piled up around them in little hills. Blood and flesh and brain and shit splattered their faces, but there was no time and no spare strength to wipe the filth away.
Around the camp, Hu Zhuo corpses piled up as men charged forth.
Just as Hua Qiong and Feng Zhiwei fought past their exhaustion in the vain hope of escape, their Hu Zhuo brothers threw their lives behind their blows to cut a way through to them.
The Hu Zhuo elites pressed through the Da Yue soldiers, paving a way with blood and bone, inching closer to Hua Qiong and Feng Zhiwei.
No one backed away from death.
Bodies pressed through sword and sabre, fear of cold metal death trampled and ignored.
They fought a miserable and terrible battle unto heroic death.
“Good sister...” Feng Zhiwei leaned slightly and gasped whispers in a momentary lull. “Chunyu Meng and Yao Yangyu will be here soon. Hold on... the cave, wait for opportunity... hide... there will be a turn...”
“If we go it will be together, if we stay we will stay together.” Hua Qiong replied, parrying a stabbing spear with the rest of her strength, leaving a gap for a biting sabre the cut forward like a pouncing snake. Feng Zhiwei slashed out, slapping the blade away.
Feng Zhiwei smiled around a mouthful of blood, teasing: “What poor...aim.”
Hua Qiong took advantage of the soldier’s stunned pause and chopped the man’s arm off. Her sabres hung limply from her hands as she coughed up exhausted flecks of blood, laughing heavily: “My blow was true!”
Jin Siyu stood in the distance watching the two women, too enraged to order archers forward. He had not thought the exhausted pair would fight with such courage and ferocity, putting many men he knew to shame!
When did Tian Sheng raise such heroic women?
Jin Siyu stood in the flickering light, his heart wavering like the dancing flame. He was shocked by the fearless Hu Zhuo warriors pushing forward to their deaths and astonished by the almost gentle smile on the bloody women before him — such determination, and such fearless, sad eyes.
Finally he stepped forward, wielding his sabre with blade edge facing backwards.
“Pa!”
He struck Feng Zhiwei’s temple with the back of the sabre.
Pain was followed by darkness, and Feng Zhiwei’s last sight was Hua Qiong at her side and horsemen charging through the camp gates.
As darkness took her, she swore to herself.
I have to live.
...
In the Fourteenth Year of Chang Xi, at the turn of September, the world-famous battle of White Head Cliff was fought. The Ten Thousand Horsemen under Wei Zhi made a pincer attack through the impassable White Head Mountain and White Spirit Lake, attacking from within and without in a surprise night raid on Da Yue’s Main Army Camp. The elites were daggers in the night while the Steel Battalion was a charging lance, and every steppe soldier fought ten enemies. Fearless courage met shaken panic, and blood flowed from the Shunyi Steel Battalion’s sabres until countless dark pools lay scattered in the dirt, reflecting the moon. Horsemen ran roughshod over the ten mile stretch of camp, throwing the enemy into chaos, leaving behind countless bodies wherever they rode.
That night in the most decisive victory of the entire war, eleven enemy generals were slain, thirty thousand soldiers were killed or injured, and twenty thousand were captured.
It was the most important battle since Tian Sheng’s defeat half a year ago, and the Tian Sheng forces followed the battle with hot pursuit, taking back all their lost land in a series of quick victories. Da Yue had no choice but to retreat to their border Pu City, and the decisive battle of the war seemed to have been won.
A group of brilliant young generals emerged from the Battle of White Head Cliff, and among them were prominent members of the Dijing upper class: Chunyu Meng, Yao Yangyu, Yu Liang, and Huang Baozi. The previous foppish philanderers stunned the world with their magnificent military talent and peerless courage, washing away the notorious reputation of Dijing’s worthless young masters.
After the battle, these young leaders of Shunyi Battalion were dispatched to important posts in the various armies, young rising stars that stirred the Tian Sheng Emperor’s desire to unify the world. The eyes of Tian Sheng youths gleamed at the stories and honors won by their compatriots, and for a long time after, Dijing young masters streamed in to join the army.
When the commoners heard the news of the great victory, excitement and cheer swept away yesterday’s worries and gloom. For many days, people swarmed to the Country Protecting Temple and the Thanksgiving Temple to offer a trio of incense, wishing for peace across the lands, praying for the war to end quickly, and honoring the brave and heroic slain that they may rest in peace.
But though joy filled the eyes of the common people, the happy songs in the streets did not pass into the depths of the glorious Imperial Palace or touch the vast borders.
In the lofty Imperial Palace, the common servants walked with light feet and quiet smiles, but the door to the Emperor’s Imperial Study was sealed shut. The great Son of Heaven carefully pored over the previous years letters and documents the archive office had pulled for him, and atop the pile sat a letter written in a delicate and heroic hand: “Suppressing Yue Dual Stratagem.”
The Tian Sheng Emperor carefully read every word of the Memorandum to the Throne. After much thought, he took up his brush and wrote: Da Yue will soon be defeated, and the time is ripe. The Suppressing Yue Dual Stratagem is a fine and sound strategy proposed by Minister Wei. The Cabinet shall make it the highest priority, and set out a plan for the border cities to implement.
An attending eunuch respectfully accepted the Imperial Order, placing it in a golden casket before hand delivering it to the Cabinet in the Hao Yun study.
With that done, the Tian Sheng Emperor sat motionlessly, thinking over what he had just read, his eyes glancing again and again to a military report laying in his desk.
The Emperor sighed.
“What a shame...”