Chapter 243: Mei Yi

In the late afternoon, the northern sky was already a sheet of red light, and the acrid sulfur smell of Asia pervaded the surroundings—if the black-hearted Red Shoe Ghost Woman were here, she would say this is the stench of magic.

The ruin and eeriness of the Far East, in the Red Shoe Ghost Woman's eyes, were entirely due to these lawless magics; Mei Yi did not know whether this speculation was baseless, but the eventual facts proved that the source of that sorcery, evil magic, could not escape the wound of a hiltless sword.

Judging by the limited known history, after the exhaustion of the multi-sided bitter war, that place finally became a haunt of ghosts and monsters, losing all the legendary beauty and splendor.

If one asks what remains of that place now, she can tell everyone with her own eyes that besides the vanished scenery, there is only endless, chilling evil aura.

Surveying the situation on the Eastern Continent, Asia's witchcraft and spells have already mingled with the origins of many cults; after experiencing twists and declines, they were picked up again, taking root once more in the Eastern trade city‑states with the aid of religion… now, are they about to spread formally to Westeros?

She had thought only Soros and Melisandre had set foot here! Too bad—Melisandre was driven back to Dragonstone Island by her (actually her vassals), unable to stay by her side, and Soros's erudition was wholly shown in women and drink, with no accomplishment in the mysterious Red God magic or blood magic.

Mei Yi stepped out of her great tent, feeling the bloody, dry heat in the breeze, like a farmer lighting a fire on a harvested wheat field. She could not imagine how large a fire would be needed to cast such a vast anomaly, nor how much wicked deed could sustain a spell of this scale.

This strange sight also drew the other soldiers out of the camp. They scrambled from their tents and stood watching afar.

Finger‑shaped blood‑red clouds blanketed the sky, as if grasping tiny people on the ground; the dark clouds connecting them looked like poisoned blood dripping from a bloody hand.

She tried to regard it as ordinary, so she snatched the fox‑fur cloak from Sha Sha's hands and threw it on. Just as she was about to head for the stables, Sir Mason appeared and barred her way.

"Your Highness, Bolton's letter."

A small scroll of parchment bore a pink wax seal; Mei Yi looked at him, puzzled.

"Bolton's men shot this letter into the watchtower with an arrow and warned our people to look out. Your Highness, I guess the letter is mostly nonsense…"

She did not let him finish, crushing the peeled‑skin figure on the wax seal and unfolding the paper.

"Shot by an arrow? Impolite!" she said, spreading the slip, "Indeed it resembles Roose Bolton's style, and indeed it's nonsense." She slipped the parchment back into Sir Mason's hands.

"Is Bolton issuing a challenge?" Sir Mason peered at the words by the firelight, "Ha! It's supposedly for the welfare of the North."

"I have a doubt," Mei Yi said, "This looks like a formal challenge; since Bolton's soldiers brought the letter, don't they want to know my reply? Don't they want to confirm I received it? No matter what, at least they should have presented it formally—doesn't he fear Roose Bolton's inquiry?"

"As you say, lacking breeding," Sir Mason muttered, "Such content is worth sending his heir."

"He's afraid of you!" Sha Sha interjected, "If I were a she‑wolf, I'd kill each of them on sight—behead, dismember, eviscerate, or learn their skinning, regardless of what letters they carry."

"Get lost!" Mei Yi rubbed Sha Sha's head, pushing her aside, "When have I ever killed a messenger? Unfathomable!"

"They've done so many wicked deeds, they naturally assume Your Highness is the same."

"Speaking of wicked deeds, I'm going to see what exactly they're up to."

"Your Highness, this could perhaps be postponed; we could send other excellent scouts. Now the focus is this letter—since they've issued a challenge, Your Highness, how should we respond?"

"I need to know his true aim. My supplies are few but can last a while, and I only fight the battles I want to fight." She had found no trace of Bolton; aside from knowing he had acquired a monk and that the allied rebel nobles of Hedong had raised a force of over ten thousand, other intel was extremely limited—but that's normal in war; knowing everything would be abnormal.

That said, at least the enemy's march purpose is fairly clear. Apart from a detachment of the Frederic army, the wars of Hexi and Hedong cannot produce any new tricks.

Ha, Bolton and Lord Eddard in the North both have reputations for martial skill, yet a close study of their southern campaigns and tactics is hard to describe—they have fought all their lives, but if you look closely, their combined performance falls short of half of Robb's; Robb's splendid battles in a single year could look down on the entire three‑hundred‑year history of Westeros.

Compared to the flexible Robb, they are as stiff as southern knights.

Because of Robb's victory in the South, even today these northerners beside him do not regard their southern campaigns as defeats; everyone harbors resentment.

"Your Highness, Bolton has set the appointed battle for the morning after next; we still have time to discuss…"

"Who cares about his appointment? First tell my officers the news; when I return." She glanced at the foolishly standing Hode, laughed, took two steps to his side, and placed her palm on his arm, "A good attendant should know when to hold the horse for a serving knight."

The page's face instantly flushed red.

"Idiot!" Sha Sha gloated at Hode.

"I thought you wanted me—I, I'll go now…"

"You're right; this time is special, I'll pick personally." She patted Hode's shoulder, walked toward the hastily erected stables, and casually led out a black horse.

As she stepped out of the camp, she saw Sir Mason already waiting to one side; he seemed to have more to say.

"Your Highness, why must you personally scout? What if danger appears?" His face showed worry and disapproval, an expression Mei Yi knew well.

"Sir Mason, look at that sky and tell me what you see."

"Fire‑lit clouds and dark clouds, though they look like a hand," he said, indifferent, "Forgive my bluntness…"

"No, Sir, that is the omen of the enemy's imminent defeat; I must fix this outcome." She again cut off Sir Mason, who wanted to speak, "When I return to camp, I'll explain it to you."

Without waiting for Sir Mason's consent, she spurred her horse and rode out of the camp.

Escaping the crowded environment, her inner unease grew stronger; upon reaching a remote hillock, her thumping heartbeat sent desperate signals. The last time her heart raced like this, she was still far in Asia's shadowy lands.

Undoubtedly, someone is directly casting magic against her.

She rode her war horse westward for a long while, passed a grove and a brook, entered a valley, and casually tethered her horse to a small pine by the roadside.

The deep valley was filled with the austere feeling of autumn and winter; withered leaves and dead grass clung to the slopes and jagged cliffs.

She was sure this place was deserted, yet she never imagined that, so far from Hollowood City, the mountains and waters layered in isolation, that rotting aura could still exist and permeate.

She now understood this was a large‑scale "witchcraft" altering the environment. She did not know what kind of fool would undertake such costly witchcraft… moreover, the larger the magic, the higher the chance of deviation and the greater the risk. The one targeting her is either a conceited madman or a complete ignoramus.

She sat still, and once her senses calmed, she again rode her war horse along the valley trail, turning onto a narrow path that allowed only single‑file passage.

The path was carved from the cliff; the stream trickled gently below the cliff. She followed the deep passage down the cliff, then followed the mountain's contour; when the road ended, sure enough, a Fish Beam Tree stood before her.

Like other Heart Trees, the Fish Beam Tree bore an angry giant face carved into it, blood‑colored juice oozing from its eye sockets.

The crows on the tree saw her and instantly began to caw wildly.

"Shut up!" she shouted in a low voice; the crows immediately all flew off the tree.

She did not hesitate, placing her hand directly on that face. In the North, nothing can escape its observation; when the alien god and rotting power seep into this place, it cannot feign deafness or muteness.

This was the smoothest time yet—it did not reject her. The Heart Tree at once pulled her into a vision.

A black, elongated shadow was mostly sucked up from beneath Hollowood City into the sky, then kept growing, extending arms and other branches from the arms, continually absorbing floating cloud moisture, while the remaining part kept eroding and finally landed on paper, growing long legs and slowly moving toward Hollowood Fort…

Then she saw the Great Wall and the distant frontier—what was that?

A dragon? A huge body hidden in snow and thick mist; she did not know whether this was a metaphor or pure fantasy, so she shook her head.

The scene shifted again. She seemed to have returned once more to the front of Hollowood Fort.

This time she saw a Shura field.

She could not believe Bolton would allow such a horrific thing to happen on northern soil before his army. She flashed past the prisoners' fleeting illusions, trying to follow the Heart Tree's perspective to see the caster.

Firelight flickered. She followed the rising ash and saw a foreigner standing before the fire, wrapped in a red robe. She wanted to observe closely, but at that moment he glared at her.

She saw the surprise on his face, then saw him reveal a mysterious and terrifying smile.

Undoubtedly, he had already seen her.

"You think I'd be afraid?" she sneered.

She made a throat-slashing gesture toward the illusion of the red-robed monk, saw the monk's smile freeze on his face, then snorted with laughter again.

At that moment, she saw the Heart Tree extend branches directly from the ground, turning into a crow that swooped straight at the red-robed monk and plucked out one of his eyes. The red-robed monk went mad, covering his eyes, as a black shadow figure burst from his body and instantly seized the crow.

"Gua..." the crow cried out in pain.

Mei Yi felt the light and heat stirring, so she calmly drew her blade and slashed straight at the shadow.

The crow and the shadow dissipated simultaneously.

The red-robed monk covered his lost eye, smiling wickedly and sinisterly at her.

"Next time, watch your head." She calmly withdrew from the Heart Tree's illusion. As she rode away on horseback and turned to look at the Heart Tree, half its leaves had already fallen from the tree; she picked up a leaf that had landed on the horse's back and returned to the camp.

When she stood before the great camp, the warm heavy snow had already whitened the roads and fields between the valleys, while the officers anxiously awaited her.

Ho Wood City had already fallen.