Chapter 8

Not long after, the bearded Zhu Tong was carried over by two black-armored knights.

He was in terrible shape.

His copper-toned face was deathly pale, as if coated in powder.

His right arm had been torn off at the elbow, revealing bloodied, bone-white joints marked with distinct tooth impressions.

His lower abdomen also looked as if it had been stabbed through.

Immediately, Wei Wu, the black-robed knight who also served as the regimental medic, stepped forward with a leopard-skin pouch, stopping the bleeding, applying medicine, bandaging, and giving him water...

“...I was already pinned under the fish demon, and the hole in my belly was made by its claws,” Zhu Tong’s face showed both terror and confusion. “I thought I was dead, but the fish demon suddenly stopped, as if frightened by something, and fled in panic—*whoosh*—leaping into the Liusha River and vanishing.”

The fish demon ate humans but didn’t harm our horses.

I found my warhorse and fled for my life, but it was dark and I couldn’t see the path—my horse’s left front hoof sank into a sand pit, cough... Damn it, Brother Zhang San was the first to die, bitten apart limb by limb and swallowed whole, not even a bone left.

Of the thirty-five brothers who rode out with me, now only I remain...”

He coughed up blood, and tears the size of beans welled from his eyes.

Song Changqing glanced at General Guan with thoughtful eyes, already understanding something.

It was like a bamboo pole meeting a wolf—both were afraid.

General Guan might not fear the fish demon, but he certainly didn’t want to die over something “mysterious and pointless.”

He didn’t care a bit about Ge Qing’s death.

The fish demon had been frightened by the “Immortal’s Eye,” thinking it had been spotted by a celestial master.

Wei Wu wiped the blood from Zhu Tong’s lips and the tears from his eyes, then said softly: “Even if you’re chasing the Sand Savages, the night is already deep—why are you still running toward the Liusha River?”

“The Savage who killed Brother Qing ran toward the river—we went after him specifically; shouldn’t we chase?” Zhu Tong growled.

“You really found him? Are you certain?” General Guan was surprised.

Although he had pointed out the locations of the adult Sand Savages that afternoon, beyond the dunes lay vast, empty wasteland—dozens of men scattered like a cup of water spilled into a desert—what good would that do?

Unless he led them himself, using his Thousand-Mile Eye to lock onto targets in real time, then eliminating them one by one with the unmatched speed of his Red Smoke Steed, which could cover three thousand li a day... But again, he was merely a squad leader—even if his future was bright and he might one day join Meng’s army in Nan Zhan Zhonghua—now that the man was dead and his corpse stinking, was he worth the “Immortal Eye Tiger” of Yingxiang Prefecture expending effort?

In truth, he disliked Ge Qing entirely.

Seeing him die a pathetic, pitiful death, he felt a gushing sense of satisfaction and delight.

Ge Qing was popular and respected; though merely a squad leader, even the hundred-man captains called him “Big Brother.” His activity and popularity in the Iron Cavalry outnumbered even his own as a Commandant.

Zhu Tong lay on Wei Wu’s lap, gritting his teeth: “That Savage buried himself beneath the sand, ambushed and killed Lao Si Luo with a poisoned dagger, striking straight at vital points—killing him instantly—and stole Lao Si Luo’s warhorse.”

His horsemanship was top-tier.

Our Iron Cavalry’s warhorses are our ‘brothers,’ raised over years of companionship—normally, just a glance... or at most a call or a specific whistle, and they’d respond.

This time, no matter how hard I whistled or shouted from behind, Lao Si Luo’s horse wouldn’t stop.

It kept struggling fiercely—the Savage was formidable.

He was a local expert, familiar with the terrain—we chased him from dusk into night, and he turned on us repeatedly, shooting and killing Li the Pockmarked and Sun Lao Wu.

“If he’s this skilled, it must be him,” Wei Wu said.

Song Changqing scanned the group and spotted the old Savage who had quietly risen from the ground, now huddled silently in the corner but listening intently, and asked: “Do you know him?”

All the cavalry turned to look at the old Savage.

The old Savage swallowed hard, hesitating: “Does he have a scar across his face?”

Zhu Tong shook his head. “Seems not.”

The old Savage asked again: “Is there a tattoo on his chest? It’s a Buddha.”

Zhu Tong nodded immediately. “That Savage, like you, wore only a hide skirt, his chest mostly bare—and yes, he had a tattoo, large and dark, not sure if it was a Buddha... It was just a black smudge—what Buddha was it?”

He had assumed the Savage’s chest bore a Kun fish.

How different do a Kun fish and a Buddha look?

“Of course, the most powerful Buddha—Lord Shakyamuni. Yu Ya’s suggestion, and she helped him get the tattoo.”

Hmm, earlier our tribe knew the Central Kingdom had tattoo customs but didn’t know how to do it—Yu Ya invented the tattoo ink and needles.”

She never tattooed herself, but she tattooed many of our tribe’s warriors.”

The old Savage added: “That man is Sha Long, the chief’s brother, and also the ‘Great General of the Pillar’ of the ‘Fake Sand Dune Kingdom’...”

Facing the black-armored knights’ sneers and cold smirks, he himself began to feel embarrassed by the grandiose title “Great General of the Pillar,” his voice growing weaker.

“The chief trusted him—he and Sha Gui handled all contact with the Lu Kingdom’s nobility.”

The chief and his five thousand warriors vanished without a trace; only these two returned half a month ago.”

I heard Yu Ya complain that Sha Long learned a peerless divine art in Lu, but he’s hiding it—even from her—and she’s furious.”

Zhu Tong, pale-faced, said: “I didn’t notice any peerless divine art—he never had a proper chance to fight. The fish demon leapt from the river and bit off half his body.”

He paused, then added: “I think Sha Long did it on purpose—he ran toward the Liusha River, screaming like a demon all the way. When the fish demon finally killed him, he even laughed a cruel laugh.”

“Damn bastard.”

“Dog’s filth!”

“Worth ten thousand cuts, Sand Savage!”

The Iron Cavalry erupted in righteous fury, cursing Sha Long for biting off a piece of them even as he died.

After cursing, they gathered around Zhu Tong, offering platitudes like tangerine peel soup and fruit medicine—useless remedies, but comforting words.

After two or three hours of fussing, the night deepened into indigo.

A few sparse stars glimmered; Chang’e had vanished; frost blanketed the ground, dew dampened their clothes; dawn was near.

“Dawn is coming. Bring out the ‘Immortal’s Sustenance Pills’—one for each man, two for each warhorse—and fill all leather bags with water—we’re returning to Hengsha Pass.” General Guan said.

The soldiers were stunned. “General, are we leaving the dunes now?”

General Guan said: “What’s left here worth clinging to? This mud pit, this cesspool?”

Song Changqing said: “Though we suffered heavy losses, we killed Sha Long at last—Brother Ge can rest in peace. But the envoy’s mission—Savage Yu...”

General Guan cut him off: “Barbarian lands teem with monsters—half our Iron Cavalry is dead. A little Sand Savage girl dying in a monster’s belly? Isn’t that natural?”

Including Song Changqing, all the soldiers nodded slightly in agreement.

General Guan’s Thousand-Mile Eye couldn’t find her—she must have been eaten.

Yes, confirming Savage Yu’s death at least fulfills the mission—gives the Central Kingdom’s envoy a proper answer.

“General Guan, wait!”

Suddenly, a ball of yellow light burst from the ground before the cavalry, followed by a youthful, childlike voice.

Song Changqing and his men instantly gripped their sword hilts, but upon hearing the voice, they quickly released them, bowed deeply, clasped their fists, and lowered their heads in reverence toward the yellow light.

“We pay homage to the Central Kingdom’s Envoy!” Even General Guan performed a full bow.

Had it not been for their full armor restricting movement, they would have knelt and prostrated themselves fully.

The yellow light dispersed, revealing a young Daoist boy with red lips and white teeth, five feet tall, a plump, charming face, dressed in a green robe, white socks, and black-soled sandals—clean, crisp, and refreshing.

“General Guan, this humble Daoist greets you,” the boy smiled in return.

General Guan didn’t hide his shock and asked: “Daoist Qingsong, where did you come from? Are you just passing through, or...?”

Qingsong’s smile vanished. He became serious. “General Guan, have you captured Savage Yu?”

General Guan was even more startled. For a mere Sand Savage girl, he had been pulled away from Lord Relyang’s side, sent to personally lead the Iron Cavalry on a thousand-li raid across the dunes—and now the envoy himself had come?

“Savage Yu is dead. Eaten by the monster in the Liusha River,” he said calmly.

The Daoist boy looked at him deeply, then shook his head. “She is not dead.”

General Guan frowned. “A thousand li across the dunes, two thousand li to the north—there’s no trace of her.”

His tone was confident, earnest, with not a hint of guilt.

That morning, he had launched a surprise attack on the dunes; by noon, Song Changqing had informed him Savage Yu was missing—he immediately activated his Thousand-Mile Eye, searched for a full hour, examining every Sand Savage within a thousand li.

In the afternoon, Zhang San and Zhu Tong led dozens of cavalry southeast to hunt the Savages in revenge for Ge Qing—he himself didn’t idle.

According to the Savages’ report—before the Great Shu Iron Cavalry entered the dunes, Savage Yu had moved to a cave in the northeast—he rode his Red Smoke Steed alone, circling far to the northeast, covering at least eight hundred li, if not a thousand.

No trace of Savage Yu.

So when he said she was eaten, it wasn’t to deceive the Central Kingdom’s envoy.

Qingsong faced northwest, raising his finger toward the sky just before dawn. “Savage Yu is certainly alive. Look—her destiny star still shines bright and clear.”

“What? Savage Yu has a destiny star? Is she a Star Lord incarnate?” The Iron Cavalry soldiers were utterly astonished.

The old Savage in the leopard-skin skirt lowered his head, eyes flickering, his wrinkled face betraying suppressed excitement.

Qingsong smiled. “The Star Lords of Heaven are of such exalted status—why would they lower themselves to be tainted by stench and filth, descending into such barbaric, frozen lands? Not even the Sand Savages, let alone your own Western Shu Kingdom... cough!”

He’d still need these western barbarians to fight for him—better not say anything too harsh.

The boy feigned a few coughs, then shifted topic: “Even among the common folk of Western Shu, there are sayings that kings are incarnations of the Purple Micro Star, generals of the Martial Star, and ministers of the Literary Star.”

Think for a moment—it’s clearly impossible.

The Four Great Continents are boundless; there is only one Emperor—the Great Qin Emperor—but dozens of thousands of kings.

Add in barbarian tribes like the Sand Dune Kingdom, and the number of self-proclaimed rulers is incalculable.

How could the Martial and Literary Star Lords possibly manage them all?

But no wind rises without cause.

The widespread belief that ‘generals are the Martial Star, ministers are the Literary Star’ must have some real basis.

It’s not that Star Lords descend to become generals or ministers—it’s that the destiny stars of generals and ministers correspond to constellations in Heaven.”

“Changes in celestial patterns can predict the rise and fall of nations and the fate of all living beings. The star that marks an individual’s destiny is their destiny star.”

As he spoke, Qingsong walked gracefully upward, hands clasped behind his back.

Reaching the peak of the dune, he pointed to a dim star in the northwest. “That is Savage Yu’s destiny star.”