Chapter 25

The icy thin mist condensed on his face, giving his face a layer of moisture, but his whole body was burning hot, extremely vexed.

He was actually going to be pursued here by the she-wolf's troops.

He felt a trace of fatigue and shameful anger, his severed limb twitching, constantly throbbing; his golden hand had been lost somewhere. The golden-crafted severed limb, with emerald-inlaid fingernails… indeed was a showy but useless piece of junk.

Well, a true warrior needs no false hand. I should fit a hook, a hook that can kill. Damn it, at least I need something that can hold the reins.

What's the use of thinking about these? Another defeat. Damn Shitake, the Northern Border has come to this, yet you still want to go south—do you want to settle in the Riverlands? Fine, then we'll be neighbors, lions and wolves, we can fight for a thousand years.

The defeat happened too quickly; all along the way he kept thinking about the scene of the defeat.

Before the Northern Border cavalry swept in, their signal horn had already blown, resounding through the whole army; he himself rode Rongyao, shouting loudly, deploying defenses in the ranks. But the result was despairing: the charging Northern Border cavalry instantly tore apart the dense defensive formation of this rabble, and they hadn't even formally engaged before having to declare defeat.

He strained to shout to the whole army, 'Deploy! Deploy!' but no one listened to his orders; the infantry fled in all directions, and some mercenary knights slipped away in the chaos.

He wanted to return to the fight, pulling Rongyao against the current, but the rein on Rongyao's side was lost by his golden hand, losing the rider's control; it began to bolt, following the fleeing infantry by instinct. He either had to drop his sword, pick up the rein, and go back to fight, or keep his sword and flee on horseback. Perhaps his golden right hand fell off the horse at that moment.

Damn it, what a worthless thing.

When he finally decided to drop his sword and return to battle, he saw his attendants Xiao ge zi Lu and Qiaosimin Paikedun and Ser Kenlos gathered beside him. When he prepared to spur his warhorse to charge the northern cavalry, he only then realized he had dropped his sword.

He admitted, he had never felt such regret and remorse in his life; the gods actually would not give a one-handed man the chance to charge on a warhorse.

He remembered looking back at his army at that moment. The northern cavalry swiftly tore apart the front ranks, then broke left and right; he saw the banner of the Daihao Kingdom fall in the army. He did not see his own white Imperial Forest Iron Guard banner—perhaps it had fallen earlier.

"My lord, it's already hopeless, withdraw quickly!" Ser Keynos shouted at him then.

At least he didn't say flee. Oh, I forgot, to kill him I still have to dismount and pick up my sword.

The two attendants, both nervously looking at him at this moment, Zhanmu felt that if he were willing to charge into the enemy unarmed, they would likewise follow him into the ranks.

"My lord, go quickly!" Ser Keynos urged again.

"Never!" Zhanmu shouted at him angrily, "I will die here today!" He felt the sword was more useful in the attendants' hands than in his own, so he would rather sit on his horse and watch the horrific battle.

Hearing that, the two attendants drew their swords. They looked tense, but seemed to have made up their minds to die alongside the knights they followed. Zhanmu felt slightly relieved. He no longer knew how many attendants had come and gone around him; he was stingy about granting knighthood to his attendants, and in fact none had ever earned his recognition. He was a knight personally dubbed by the legendary Dawn Sword God Yase Dien of the Seven Kingdoms; wanting his acknowledgment would be difficult.

These two perhaps should think it over; at least they have courage. No, a kingslayer had best not grant knighthood.

"Ser! This is absolutely an unexpected encounter; who could know the rout of Rushing Flow City, who could know that a mighty castle like Helunbao could be said lost just like that? Intelligence wasn't timely either; this is the incompetence of frontline personnel and those of the capital, having nothing to do with you." His shout interrupted Zhanmu's reverie: "If you died, that would disgrace the Iron Throne; if you died, who would the Iron Throne rely on?" His voice rose above the shouting, and the knights surrounding him waited for him to speak.

"Am I afraid of disgrace? A kingslayer afraid of disgrace?"

He wanted to curse loudly, but his clenched teeth wouldn't let him spit out the words.

"Iron Throne, Iron Throne! The Iron Throne has countless people to rely on, each better than a kingslayer," he thought.

In a blink he looked again at the battlefield ahead and saw Yilin Pein on his warhorse, letting out a wailing shout; he swung his greatsword, felling several northern cavalry from their horses, but in an instant his head was cut off by the northern cavalry behind him. Blood spurted from the horse like a fountain.

Damn it, I actually envy you now?

"Ser, go quickly!" he shouted again, "Think of the queen mother; you are her only kin! As long as you live, you can surely rally and defeat the enemy; if you die, there is no hope at all!"

Those words had an effect.

Se xi. The name, just rising from his heart, swept away all his resolve; at that moment he wearily decided to retreat, or to flee, however you view this decision.

When he gave the order, he saw the two attendants quickly sheath their swords.

They were probably pleased with this decision, right?

They raced all the way along the King's Road. Then dozens of other cavalry nearby began to closely follow the retreat, including Ser Shitifelun Shiweifuo and Ser Fulie Mongbulakesi.

Seeing Ser Fulie Mongbulakesi also among those fleeing, Zhanmu felt his heart break. Ser Fulie Mongbulakesi had brought three hundred heavy cavalry. With no one in command, they were destined to be slaughtered by the northern light cavalry. He bitterly restrained himself from blaming Ser Fulie Mongbulakesi's incompetence. The one more deserving of blame was himself.

He thus rode Rongyao, leaving his army on the King's Road to be slaughtered by the northerners, while he and the nobles fled southward in rout. Accepting this reality was harder than losing his right hand.

The she-wolf had no intention of letting him go. Soon he saw her large force of northern cavalry sweeping across the battlefield, discarding the infantry to be mopped up, and giving chase to this band of fleeing cavalry. The northerners' arrows took away some of the cavalry following him, they fell on the King's Road; horse corpses and fallen knights might delay the pursuers, and for the first time he felt that the narrowness of the King's Road might not be a bad thing.

But thinking that he would be hunted by northerners near the royal domain filled him with shame. Who said the War of the Five Kings was won by the lions?

As the King's Road stretched into endless wilderness, the pursuing cavalry behind still gave no slack, closely following, seeming to want to net them all. He didn't know whether the she-wolf was behind them.

He felt that, if his hands were whole, he would certainly take up his sword to charge at the pursuers for a while, then retreat. To flee like this was simply to run before a beast, encouraging hunters to kill. He looked back at his retreating party. There were a few mounted archers he didn't know, belonging to Sasifeierde, and a few horsemen belonging to Old Bonifer of the Holy Warriors. No fat pig, no Adam, also no Red Rowan Collington. He hoped they would know to surrender at the proper time.

I will ransom you all back, even if I have to use all the gold of Victorious Rock.

But in a flash he realized that now everyone of Victorious Rock was Se xi, not his father, nor himself. He forcibly cast aside that thought.

Heavy losses! In real war, it seems I've been losing all along!

He turned his head again to look at the pursuers, hoping to detect the she-wolf's trace, but what he saw were merely northerners like wild dogs. The pursuers each howled madly, as if driving off boars. He hoped a few nearby knights could turn back to block, but this wouldn't do.

He could have simply issued a sniping order, but having already sacrificed too many soldiers, such a command would make him feel ashamed.

Perhaps his father could, Tiliang could also mobilize wisdom to command. For instance, he could have Kenlos step up: 'You aren't so brave, are you? I happen to doubt your loyalty; now is your chance to prove it.' Or, these few 'Holy Warriors,' your Lord Bonifer has already died on the field, fighting desperately; why do you follow along in rout? How can you still call yourselves Holy Warriors? Damn it, Fulie Mongbulakesi, you didn't say the golden hand was handsome? Now I've left it on the battlefield—go pick it up; best you bring your heavy cavalry back, or die together.

Still he did not issue the sniping order.

The few knights at the rear were unlucky; their horses couldn't find footing in the mire and fell. Falling meant death.

"My lord, we must leave the King's Road, or else..."

Otherwise they would pursue all the way to the capital until everyone was slain. Zhanmu understood perfectly. As long as they left the King's Road, they could enter any noble estate still loyal to the Iron Throne; with their protection, the she-wolf's pursuers would have no recourse, unless she dared to send a lone troop of cavalry deep into the Riverlands and the vast territories of the royal domain.

Would she dare?

"Withdraw east!" he shouted.

To the west of the road lay God's Eye Lake and the God's Eye River, a tributary connecting to the Blackwater Rush; it was impassable, and if the pursuers drove them to the bank, escape would be even harder.

He hoped to pass through this road and quickly return to Hafo Cheng.

"Ser, take off your white cloak and put on mine." Xiao ge zi Lu shouted to him.

That's a good plan; if he had two hands he'd do it. But if he truly had two hands, he should have died on the battlefield. He lay on the horse's back, using his severed limb to hold the rein, his left hand undoing the clasp of his white cloak.

He saw the cloak like a rag, spread over the mire of the King's Road, then trampled into the mud by the horses' hooves behind. He had no hand to put on a new one.

When Glory stepped onto the wasteland's soil, James felt as if he smelled the fresh scent of moss, and the air also seemed to carry a faint smell of fireworks.

On the wasteland, the pursuers appeared even more formidable, a full large group, over a hundred, closely following. James turned his head to look at his own squad, as if they had lost another two in this stretch; they now only had thirteen.

They kept charging forward, quickly crossing this wasteland. At the wasteland's end was a stretch of lofty hills; below it seemed to be an orchard. Perhaps upon reaching there they could shake off the cavalry's pursuit, he thought. Since there were woods, there might be an estate that could provide defense.

"Go around the hills." He heard Sir Fremont shout.

He turned his head to look, but Glory had lost its footing and fallen; he also fell heavily from his horse, rolling several times on the wet soil of the wasteland before stopping. He felt his bones were all falling apart.

The Fuleimeng knight seemed not to have seen him fall from his horse, turning to the side of the hill. Two attendants immediately turned back, dismounted, and helped him up.

"Sir, quickly take my horse," said Xiaogezi Lu.

"We'll go into the forest; cavalry can't get in," he said. The Fuleimeng knight unit might draw the pursuers' attention, while he hides in the forest; unless the cavalry dismounts and slowly combs the mountains, his chances of survival are higher than Aoleimeng's. He didn't believe that lone force had the audacity to arrogantly enter the forest as infantry near the lord's domain.

The attendants, hearing their words, immediately loosened the reins, slapped the horses' rumps, and let their warhorses catch up with the main force.

Zhanmu, supported by the two, headed into the forest below the hills.

He heard the northern cavalry circling outside the woods, soothing their horses; they might be considering whether to dismount and follow.

After a short while, the cavalry decided to abandon the scattered few and follow the main force toward Fuleimeng.

Zhanmu and the two others passed through the dense forest and a neat orchard, with difficulty crossed a small stream, then stopped. By then, no horse hooves or cavalry sounds could be heard.

The two attendants lay beside him, panting loudly.

Zhanmu also felt utterly exhausted. He gestured for the two attendants to take off his armor.

Truly shameful, he thought.

He flung his armor forward heavily; it tumbled, rolling onto a stone by the stream, catching the sunlight and flashing right before his eyes.

As he rose to continue walking, he suddenly remembered something, stopped, cursed, went back to the stream, picked up his armor, and hurled it hard at the bushes across the water.

His left hand was ultimately a bit weak; the armor snagged on a slender willow, lay overturned in the grass, still exposing most of it, but at least it was no longer as conspicuous as before.

Forget it, he thought, leave it like that. Come catch me if you can, bastard!

He glanced back at the stream, hoping it was the border between Riverlands and the crownlands. But the true boundary was a small river; he had crossed it many times when marching to Helunbao, knew its appearance well, and this stream was certainly not it.

In such a place, encountering a she-wolf might be less frightening than meeting bandits. Leading the army from King's Landing, he had already hanged many bandits, homeless outlaws.

Perhaps this time it will be their turn to hang him. He felt the land despised him. His father had once ordered his hounds here to burn, kill, and plunder; they would surely be willing to hang him too, as vengeance for the desolation wrought by the enemy's son.

Father, if I am hanged by bandits, it's entirely thanks to you.

This forest still belongs to Helunbao, part of the Riverlands; he must leave quickly. Zhanmu took a sword from Xiaogezi Lu, led the way, hacking away blocking branches with his blade; the two attendants were not idle either, also chopping, and the three of them thus cut a path through the woods.

After passing through the forest, he found they had reached the far end of the hill. This side connects to another stretch of wilderness. It should have been farmland before; perhaps come spring, seeds will sprout again from the soil and burst into green, but now it is completely covered in black ash, the recent heavy rain unable to wash it clean. For now, furrows crisscross, dividing plots of different use, until the horizon is met by another hill.

Just then he looked up. A large black bird circled high above; it seemed to notice Zhanmu's gaze, then began to caw loudly, as if mocking.

Damn. Zhanmu cursed silently.

He and the two attendants had to quickly re-enter the forest, darting along its edge. Soon he saw a dozen or so cavalry scouting in the distance; the three had no choice but to lie low under the trees, waiting silently for the cavalry to depart and the crows to circle away.

They kept walking, stopping and starting, and when they finally crossed another hill, it was already evening.

They were hungry and thirsty, yet there was no small river or stream; in this desert-like deep autumn or early winter, he did not expect to find mice or hares left for them. Moreover, the area surely harbored homeless refugees.

Damn, I won't fight you for rations.

When night fell, they thought it best not to risk moving on, so they decided to lie down where they were.

When the stars filled the sky, wolf howls drifted from the mountains.

Could those be the direwolves of the Stark maiden? He had heard earlier that the Riverlands teemed with wolf packs large and small, one led by a massive she-wolf that feared no one, day or night, daring to attack any traveler or even a small organized troop.

Ha, look what I've done to that little wolf.

He felt utterly exhausted. The old knight had died in battle, Ilyn Payne had died, and many soldiers were slaughtered, the heavy cavalry split and unable to function. Perhaps mounted archers and foot archers could inflict some damage on the northern cavalry, but it was still a crushing defeat, an all‑round defeat. Adam, Zhuangzhu, have you surrendered? he wondered.

He did not know how he got through that night. Cold and hungry.

This place is at most two days' ride from King's Landing; he did not believe the she-wolf could keep his pursuing cavalry scouring the area so close to the capital, perhaps after tonight the pursuers would withdraw.

If his father were still alive, upon receiving the raven he would surely send cavalry to rendezvous. The little demon too. What's the point of thinking about these?

The next morning, the wilderness lay under a thick fog. In the haze, he wiped water off his leather armor with one hand; perhaps collecting it could serve as drink, but obviously, even if he drank nothing that day he would not die.

Heavy fog, that's good. He didn't believe the great raven could still conduct high‑altitude reconnaissance. Even if it scouted, it would have to lower its altitude—then it would be nice, but he could shoot it down.

Oh, no, I have no hand left—damn it!

The heavy fog was an excellent chance to slip away. He followed the veining on leaves to determine direction, heading east, hoping to return swiftly to the crownlands, then to some noble's manor, and get back to King's Landing as soon as possible. A glorious return was impossible, but he preferred not to slink away like that. Cersei had always disliked losers.

Early in the morning, the two attendants seemed fine. He with two hands didn't need companions in the wild, but with one hand he did.

The morning's thick fog obscured the enemy's sweeping targets, but it also definitely hindered their progress. They followed the lay of the fields, moving steadily forward. Once each such plot had at least a farmstead, a handful of knights; now not even a standing house remained.

After walking a short while, he felt his whole body heating up. Black ash from the burned fields clung heavily to his boots and pant legs, and his face began to itch. He glanced back at the two attendants; their faces were also smeared with soot.

He burst out laughing. The two attendants didn't understand why, but after exchanging a glance, they too began to laugh.

Damn, what am I laughing at?

After crossing that field, they reached the hillside and found another stream. The two attendants jumped up happily, cheering as they ran to the water. They washed their faces well at the stream, then drank their fill, but he always felt the water had a strange taste.

Afterward, they went upstream looking for a narrow place to cross, but soon they spotted a corpse on the bank whose white bones were visible—obviously washed down from upstream when the water was higher. Xiaogezi Lu bent over and vomited. Zhanmu also felt his throat begin to discomfort.

Fine, I've seen worse in Benliucheng.

They crossed the stream not far upstream from the corpse. He had thought to wash his face again, but realizing it wouldn't make a difference, he endured and moved on; the notion of catching fish to fill his stomach was completely abandoned.

When he felt the sun rising from the horizon, they arrived at an orchard. Trees bore many unpicked fruits; when Zhanmu reached for one, he found it completely rotted, leaving a black‑gray‑yellow mush in his hand, which he flung away disgustedly. Trying several more yielded the same result.

Soon after, Qiaosimin ran over, handing him two apples that still looked whole, not much larger than an egg. The little Luke's fruit had its own survival rule—at least, they hadn't rotted.

He gulled down the two fruits whole; when Qiaosimin found another two to offer, he refused.

Leaving the orchard, Zhanmu had swallowed about five or six small apples; at last he regained a bit of strength.

They followed the orchard's lane forward, dimly making out a manor‑shaped courtyard and interior buildings, though most structures had completely collapsed and been abandoned. They proceeded with great caution around the manor, holding their breath. Indeed, this was correct; as they passed, they heard sounds from beside the manor. They lowered themselves slightly.

From the mist came a wolf's voice: "Damn, that Fuleimeng said the kingslayer has been following them, he doesn't know when he disappeared." Then another voice shouted: "I knew early on that the one who dropped his horse and ran into the woods was the kingslayer! That damn fellow took off his white cloak, fell from his horse, and was outright discarded—I had thought he was just some irrelevant little lackey! Damn it!"

Zhanmu thought he heard a horse's neigh.

The two attendants whispered to him, "Let's go around this manor and escape by another route." But Zhanmu's courage surged, and he told the two attendants, "Let's steal their horses."

The two attendants stared in shock. "They can't possibly be searching here for long, sir!" He didn't know who spoke.

Zhanmu didn't want to bother with them; he drew his sword, lowered his profile, and, following the fog, reached the corner of the enclosure wall, thankful to unknown bandits who had blasted a large hole in the brick wall, allowing him to slip in at any time. The two attendants had no choice but to follow.

"Damn, the gods are truly helping the kingslayer; in this heavy fog, how can we find anyone? Even if we know he hasn't returned to King's Landing, if he hides in the mountains only a ghost could spot him—if we don't find him today, we must withdraw."

Yeah, the gods are helping me; they let you become a thief even in your great defeat.

Following the thick fog, he at least saw three northerners. But there were at least twenty horses in the courtyard.

The horses were tethered to the opposite courtyard wall. James had no choice but to bend low and slowly make his way around the wall through the closed gate.

But he really should thank the fog. They went past the main gate, and on the other side of the courtyard wall there was likewise a large breach, through which they could easily enter, take the horses, and quickly leave.

The horses beside the courtyard were already somewhat uneasy. He hoped these northern warhorses wouldn't be so skittish.

I'm not a real lion; I'm a horse thief, a one‑handed one at that.

When he heard no more sounds outside, he swaggered into the courtyard. The fog inside was a little thinner. He had to act quickly; he waved, signalling the two attendants to come in together.

One horse neighed.

They quickly cut the ropes with their swords and leapt onto the horses.

At that moment a northerner stepped out of the inner room, shouting at them, then swiftly drew his sword and charged out from the house.

"Who goes there?" they bellowed.

"Your grandfather!" James yelled, holding his sword in one hand and the reins in the other, he swiftly turned the horse's head, threw his sword at the charging soldier, instantly slashing his throat, then grabbed the reins and leapt out through the breach in the courtyard.

He just wanted to shout loudly.

The two knights also rode through the breach on horseback.

Outside the fog was too thick; under normal circumstances one shouldn't ride fast, but James had no such qualms, he spurred his horse forward along the road at full speed.

Ahead, a cliff would be best.

He heard hoofbeats behind him that did not belong to the two attendants.

If that horse hadn't neighed, he would have had enough time to cut all the horses' ropes and set them loose. Oh well, how could I let you lot make it back to the North?

"Regicide!" he heard the northerners shout.

"Haha!" he shouted loudly, as if he had just won a great victory.

The three quickly shook off their pursuers, but they refused to stop, galloping on regardless of direction or where the road led.

Around midday the great fog finally began to dissipate; all around was still barren moorland linking various hills, but with the sun out the direction was naturally clear.

He looked up at the sky again, but saw not a single bird.

Haha, crows, come on if you dare and follow me!

As they crossed a range of hills, he was certain they were somewhere in the Hejian region.

He saw a mill in the distance, its distinctive waterwheel.

Back when he first became the youngest of the Imperial Forest Iron Guards at Helunbao, he thought he could win the tournament there, but the Mad King instead ordered him to rush back to Junlin to protect the queen; at that time he was returning to Junlin along this road. He remembered that along the way villagers kept coming out to tell him he had taken the wrong route to the tournament, but he seethed with resentment, ignored them, and set out alone on the road back to Junlin.

Nowadays, though it's the same road, the people living alongside it are either dead or have fled.

You're the ones who took the wrong road!

Soon he noticed a large bird reappearing in the sky; James laughed loudly at it, as if mocking the wolf‑woman for overreaching herself. The bird, just as before, answered with two croaks.

He had no intention of returning to Junlin by the main road; instead he turned north with his two attendants and entered a forest. Only then did he have a moment to examine the spoils of the notorious regicide‑turned‑thief.

On one side of the horse hung a sword case bearing a scabbard made of fur, as greasy as could be; inside lay a sword whose hilt was also wrapped in fur. Drawing it, he couldn't help shaking his head repeatedly—it was a rough blade, with several clear nicks along its edge.

Enough killing, he thought.

He turned the blade over to inspect the inscription, but instead saw faint fresh bloodstains on the sword. He dismissed the thought, then struggled to sheath the blade in its soft scabbard—a sword that can kill is a good sword.

From a pouch behind the horse's hindquarters he found an unbent bow, and in the quiver ahead he discovered three arrows. Enough to shoot crows, he thought, but then his spirits sank.

"Who among you shoots better with bow and arrow?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer he continued, "Take this bow and use it—shoot down any crow you see flying by."

Both of them raised their hands. He laughed loudly and tossed the bow to the little fellow on the left, Lu.

The dense forest rose up tall—this is a good spot; feel free to come back and ambush us.

This road was clearly once a trade route; its surface had been worn smooth and scattered with a layer of leaves, as if no one had passed for ages. Following it, one could likely reach some castle in the royal domain, and once there he could finally declare himself safe.

The woods were full of towering giants—birch, oak, sentinel trees, fir, red pine, beech—menacingly scattered across the hills, as if they had been growing there for a thousand years.

The forest exhaled a thin mist, giving off a desolate air. By now he was fairly certain that no northern cavalry would appear on his road ahead.

They went forward along the road, but the trees ahead grew ever thicker, with some large trunks standing alone in the middle of the originally cleared path; if some women came by, they'd surely feel these trees exuded a strange aura. But James had never feared such eeriness. If it were a little demon, it might even break into song here.

A lion ought to fear nothing.

The two attendants rode close behind him on their horses; the forest was dead silent, the only sound being the monotonous, stiff hoofbeats of the three riders. The horses, unsettled by the mood, kept snorting.

You've smelled it too, right?

He caught the stench of corpses. Frankly, that smell is all too common these days, but dead bodies don't frighten him.

Sure enough, on a twisted branch not far off, he saw several bodies hung sideways. Little Lu looked a bit uneasy, while Josemin examined them closely.

"They've been hanging here a long time," he said.

"Who are they?" little Lu asked.

"Never mind who they were. Think the best of them and they're rapists, thieves, bandits; think the worst and they're allied troops, women, civilians," James said.

The corpses had been gnawed by maggots until the features that could identify identity and sex were gone, leaving mostly bare bone. Perhaps next time he comes by, the bones will have fallen to the ground, where worms will slice them bit by bit into their burrows.

The road ahead grew deeper, the trees towering so high they completely blocked the sky's light, making it pitch black. The horses grew more uneasy. James hoped this was just his imagination.

A gentle breeze blew. The horses halted, hooves planted on the ground, and began to whinny.

James knew it was time to draw that notched sword.

"We've got a few wolves on our tail," Josemin whispered from behind—he had hoped he wouldn't have to rouse them.

James heard his own heartbeat clearly, and he caught Josemin's words, but he refused to look back; his whole attention was fixed on the road ahead.

A giant wolf loomed in the dimness, its golden‑yellow eyes flashing with a fierce light.