A Song For The Ages

The sun hung low behind drifting clouds as the expedition began its slow march away from the ruins. Dust rose in lazy swirls beneath their boots, the ground dry and cracked from years of neglect. Birds circled far above, the only witnesses to the shattered silence of a party returning half whole.

What had started as a force of two hundred, elite soldiers and sect cultivators alike, now trudged forward as a hundred and change.

The air was subdued, more so than after the battlefield's blood. This silence carried weight. Memory. Loss. It pressed against every conversation, every glance.

Ba Shanyue's voice broke the quiet. "Head count confirms we lost twenty-four."

Jue Qingling gave a short nod, expression unreadable. She walked alongside Feiyin, Fenlan a few paces behind her. Ruan Lianhua was farther back, pale and quiet, her robes stained at the hem from days of damp ruins. The others kept in tight formation.

Feiyin frowned, his oscillation sense passively pulsing through the group like sonar. Everything was quiet, tense, but still. Then, an unusual vibration, like a drop of ink falling into still water.

His eyes sharpened.

A faint essence ripple, carefully cloaked, emanated from a few paces ahead.

He turned his head slightly toward Jue Qingling. "He just activated a jade slip."

Her eyes flicked sideways. "Where?"

Feiyin angled his head toward Hu Zhao, who was walking just ahead on foot, his crimson armor dull from dried blood and travel. His face remained fixed forward, unreadable.

"Of course," Qingling murmured, and her smile turned razor-thin. "We thought he might."

Feiyin lifted a brow.

She added softly, "We left a few disciples behind to hold the skyships. Just in case. We assumed Hu Zhao might try something once we were weak enough. He's a man of gain, not loyalty."

"He's making his move."

Jue Qingling nodded. "Then we'll make ours."

The road turned, winding into a narrow gorge, flanked by cliffs and thick pine forests. The trees whispered in the wind, but something beneath their branches didn't move with the breeze.

Feiyin's gaze sharpened, his spiritual sense confirming the shift he felt.

The wind picked up. Hu Zhao and his remaining men pushed ahead at a faster pace.

Then the trap closed.

From the treeline, cavalry emerged, armor gleaming in muted grays and reds, their sigils foreign but organized. At least fifty riders joined Hu Zhao and his men, many of whom climbed into saddles handed to them like this had always been the plan.

Within moments, the path behind and ahead was sealed.

"He's brought reinforcements," Ruan Lianhua said, tone flat.

The cavalry formed up with precision, forming a horseshoe that penned in the Red Lotus mercenaries.

Hu Zhao turned, reins in hand, halberd once again strapped to his back. His voice rang out clearly. "Red Lotus mercenaries! By my authority as the lord of this land and my command of this territory, I hereby impose a field tax. All spoils gained within the ruins are to be surrendered for inspection."

Silence.

Then Ba Shanyue stepped forward.

His boots ground into gravel. "So you wait until our numbers are reduced and we're tired and bloodied to show your fangs, is that it?"

Hu Zhao shrugged. "It's just good strategy. You all gained something in that ruin, I can feel it. Better you part with it willingly than leave your corpses for my men to loot."

"That so?" Shanyue cracked his neck. "You sure this is a battle you want, Warlord?"

"Heh, one I'm well-prepared for."

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Behind Feiyin, murmurs spread through their ranks.

Ruan Lianhua stepped forward, arms crossed. "If it is war you want, then your blood will flow."

"You call this a war?" Hu Zhao barked a laugh. "I call it cleanup."

Feiyin felt it before it happened, the flex of muscles, the tightening tension. Then the arrows flew.

Dozens loosed from the treeline, whistling death.

"DOWN!" Ba Shanyue roared.

He slammed his palms into the earth, hand seals blazing.

A shield erupted from the ground, thick plates of stone angling up to protect the core of the Red Lotus group. Arrows slammed into them and snapped or embedded uselessly.

Jue Qingling mounted her deer. "In formation! Spread wide, control the flanks!"

Red Lotus mercenaries fanned out, some drawing bows, others preparing talismans. The spirit disciples channeled warding formations, others lashing out with wave-attacks.

"Hold them until-"

Then the air shifted.

A low, rising hum grew above them. Shadows fell.

Skyships.

Four Red Lotus ships emerged through the clouds, hovering above the battlefield. The sunlight gleamed off their hulls.

From the side compartments, vials dropped, dozens.

Jue Qingling continued with a smirk, "-They come."

The ground shook.

Explosions rocked the trees, throwing cavalry into the air, tearing through the rear ranks of Hu Zhao's backup force. Horses screamed. Flames erupted along the perimeter.

Chaos.

Now the counterattack could begin.

Red Lotus cultivators surged forward, blades drawn, talismans crackling with essence as they were activated.

Jue Qingling, Ruan Lianhua, and Ba Shanyue broke from the formation together, three forces of will and essence, bearing down on Hu Zhao.

Feiyin, meanwhile, remained just behind the inner disciples, blade lowered but alert. His oscillation sense flared, mapping the field.

He wasn't going to expose his hand. Not yet.

Instead, he watched Hu Zhao's trusted elites attempt to break through the chaos to reach their leader, and moved.

With precise, lethal movements, Feiyin intercepted each attempt. His blade danced with chilling economy, no wasted flourishes, only efficient execution. A feint masked a fatal thrust, a sidestep became the angle for a killing cut.

Every subordinate that rushed forward collapsed in their tracks, necks severed, hearts pierced, breath stolen mid-roar. They never reached their commander, having fallen into a dance of death.

Feiyin's face remained calm, cold, unreadable. His oscillation sense guided each motion like a silent metronome, tuning death to perfection.

None would interrupt what had to happen.

Ahead, the real battle erupted.

"Come then!" Hu Zhao roared.

He leapt from his saddle, slamming his halberd into the ground. Flame and metal surged outward, molten streaks like a volcanic eruption interwoven with gleaming arcs of steel.

"Yin Refining," Ruan muttered, spectral blade already slicing forward.

"He can shape Qi into form," she called.

"Then we break it before it holds!" Shanyue roared.

Jue Qingling snapped her fingers. Two spirit beasts leapt from her pouch to join Fenlan, a horned bear and an armored serpent.

Hu Zhao swept his halberd in a wide arc, fire exploding in a crescent. One beast crashed into the dirt, wounded, while the other hissed, striking from behind.

Lianhua flanked left, spectral blade carving through manifested Qi. Every cut disrupted the warlord's control as blood flowed unnaturally. Her crimson eyes narrowed, calculating.

Fenlan rammed forward, antlers glowing with essence. Hu Zhao twisted, dodging partially, but the blow landed against his side, shattering the rhythm of his technique.

Ba Shanyue slammed his fists down. A spike of jagged earth burst beneath Hu Zhao's feet, cracking his stance.

The warlord snarled. A dome of spinning blades formed around him, Qi solidified with Yin essence, rotating in tight formation.

"Aim for the gaps!" Ruan called.

Jue Qingling surged in, twin blades flashing. Her strikes slipped between rotations, nicking armor and flesh. Hu Zhao grunted.

Ba Shanyue's hammer fell like judgment. It collided with Hu Zhao's flank, knocking him stumbling.

Feiyin's eyes never left the clash. Even at a distance, he could read the trajectory of power.

Hu Zhao raised a hand.

An obsidian shield formed, dense with compressed essence. Fire burst from his free palm.

Jue Qingling's wind scattered the flame. Lianhua stepped into the smoke, spectral blade humming.

She struck low.

A tendon gave. Hu Zhao staggered.

Then Jue Qingling and Ba Shanyue struck in tandem, a cross of force slamming into him.

The halberd cracked.

Hu Zhao fell to one knee.

Shanyue stepped forward, boot crushing the broken haft.

"You want to try that tax talk again?"

Hu Zhao spat blood. "Kill me, then."

Jue Qingling twirled a blade idly. "Not yet."

Around them, the battle waned. Feiyin sheathed his blade, scanning the edges.

The last of the cavalry was fleeing or subdued.

He turned to Jue Qingling, calm as ever. "What's next?"

She smiled.

"Secure the prisoners. Then we fly."

Hu Zhao would never rule again, that's for sure.