Chapter 8: Northern Pass Muster: Three Thousand Ride to Their Death

On the morning of the seventh day, a fierce snowstorm rose at the Northern Pass.

Outside the north gate of Han Zhou, three thousand Zhenbei Old Soldiers formed ranks.

Their armor was battered and old; many had grizzled temples, and some were missing arms or legs.

Yet when the war drum sounded, those three thousand stood straighter than any elite troops.

Because they had once been the Northern Garrison Army.

Because they had waited for this day for three years.

Jiang Che stood atop the city wall, clad in Black Armor, the Tiger Tally at his waist, a Wooden Sword in hand.

The three thousand old soldiers below raised their heads in unison.

Chen Shanhe, in a suit of old armor, an Iron Hook bound where his arm had been severed, said in a deep voice: "Young Master, the three thousand are assembled."

Jiang Che looked at those familiar yet unfamiliar faces.

Some had once held him when he was a child.

Some had roasted snow rabbits for him.

Some had taken a blade for him before the gates of Hou Manor.

Now they had gathered here again, only to follow him out of the pass.

Jiang Che spoke. His voice was not loud, yet true Qi carried it to every man's ear.

"Beyond lies the Northern Border — Northern Barbarian cavalry ahead, Heavenly Gate Lackeys, and a thousand li of white bone."

"I won't lie to you."

"Many will die."

In the ranks, an old soldier grinned broadly and said: "Young Master, say something fresh. When has a soldier ever not died?"

The crowd burst into laughter.

Jiang Che laughed too.

As he laughed, his eyes grew hot.

He raised a bowl of wine.

"This bowl — to my father, and to those who died in Han Zhou three years ago."

Three thousand men raised their bowls.

The wine spilled onto the snow.

Jiang Che poured a second bowl.

"This bowl — to those who still dare to leave the pass today."

The wine went down his throat like fire.

The third bowl.

Jiang Che raised it toward the north.

"This bowl — to enemies not yet slain."

"May they wash their necks clean."

Three thousand old soldiers roared with laughter in unison.

"Kill!"

Atop the city wall, Xie Tingxue stood with her sword on her back, watching the scene, a faint stir in her eyes.

She had been born of the Sword Pavilion, had seen countless genius Sword Cultivators, witnessed the grandeur of sects, and beheld the majesty of court.

But she had never seen an army like this.

Battered, aged, yet like a mountain that could not be bent.

The Sword Spirit said: "See that? This is the Human Realm."

Jiang Che asked: "Senior, did you once command troops as well?"

"No."

"Then what are you getting sentimental about?"

"When I was young, I saw many people like this. They had no grand principles — they only knew that behind them was home, and they could not retreat."

Jiang Che was silent for a moment, then said: "I cannot retreat either."

At the third quarter of the chen hour, the Northern Pass gates opened.

The heavy gates swung open slowly, revealing an endless snowfield beyond.

Chen Shanhe swung himself onto his horse, Iron Hook raised high.

"Northern Garrison Army!"

Three thousand old soldiers answered in unison:

"Here!"

"Out of the pass!"

Hooves struck the snow.

Three thousand riders surged forth like a black flood, charging into the blizzard.

Jiang Che rode at the very front.

Xie Tingxue rode alongside him.

She asked: "Where is the first stop?"

Jiang Che took out the remnant map.

"Burying Sword Valley."

Xie Tingxue's brow furrowed slightly: "That place is rumored to be an ancient battlefield, thick with Sword Evil. Any ordinary Martial Artist who enters will go mad."

Jiang Che said, "My mother's belongings are there."

Xie Tingxue glanced at him and said no more.

The great army marched until afternoon when scouts returned with a report.

"Young Master, Northern Barbarian cavalry has been spotted thirty li ahead, about five hundred strong!"

Chen Shanhe sneered, "Five hundred dare block the road?"

Jiang Che said, "Something is wrong."

"What is wrong?"

Jiang Che gazed into the depths of the wind and snow.

The Sword Spirit whispered, "There is an ambush."

No sooner had the words left his lips than a muffled horn blast suddenly rose from behind a distant snow slope.

Wuu—

Wolf Flags rose one by one from behind the snowfield.

Five hundred.

Five thousand.

Ten thousand.

Northern Barbarian iron cavalry flooded the mountains and plains, pressing forward like a black tide.

The leader at the front wore white wolf fur, held a curved blade, and his voice carried across the snowfield.

"Jiang Family whelp."

"I have waited for you long enough."

Chen Shanhe's face darkened: "It is Tuoba Lie, a great general under the White Wolf King of the Northern Barbarians."

Xie Tingxue drew her sword three inches: "At least ten thousand riders."

Jiang Che looked at that black mass of cavalry formation and suddenly smiled.

Chen Shanhe asked, "What is the Young Master laughing at?"

Jiang Che raised his Wooden Sword and pointed forward.

"I laugh because they have come just in time."

"Sparing me the trouble of finding them."

Tuoba Lie laughed loudly: "Three thousand old and weak, dare charge my ten thousand Wolf Riders?"

Jiang Che did not answer.

He merely lightly squeezed his horse's flanks.

The warhorse moved forward.

Three thousand Zhenbei Old Soldiers followed forward.

Chen Shanhe roared:

"Northern Garrison Army!"

Three thousand voices shouted in unison:

"Fight to the death!"

Jiang Che pointed his Wooden Sword forward.

"Pierce through them."

In the next moment, three thousand riders against ten thousand.

Amidst the wind and snow, two torrents crashed together with a boom.