Dinner In The Palace Of Hua-Yang . . .
Cha-Eun Xiao had hastily donned an unassuming cotton robe, attempting to blend into the bustling cityscape. As he reached the city gate, he employed his martial skills to rid himself of the lingering traces of blood and the accompanying stains that clung to his body. Finally, he breathed a sigh of relief, relieved to have cleansed himself of the grim reminders of his recent battles.
Near the gate, he couldn't help but notice a gathering of young women, their presence marked by the sweet fragrance of their perfumes wafting through the air. It was evident that they comprised a group of female travelers embarking on a journey to the ice mountain. These young women, clad in finery, appeared to travel together as a tightly-knit group.
Upon closer inspection, Cha-Eun Xiao discerned that this assembly of girls was predominantly composed of Su Ye-Yue's close friends, including the daughters of high-ranking officers, princesses of the royal clan, noblewomen, and the offspring of affluent families. It was evident that no ordinary or impoverished individuals had earned a place in their prestigious ranks.
Cha-Eun Xiao, keen to avoid any awkward encounters, promptly concealed himself within the bustling crowd. The prospect of being unwittingly drawn into the company of these girls, who were undoubtedly seeking companions for their journey, was something he ardently wished to avoid. After all, he had just returned from the ice mountain and had no intention of revisiting it anytime soon.
[Making a return trip there would be sheer madness.]
He had already witnessed a scene that would remain etched in his memory for a lifetime.
As the procession of upper-class young women passed by in their luxurious sedans, escorted by vigilant guards, Cha-Eun Xiao couldn't help but feel a sense of longing. Amidst this gathering, there was someone he had anticipated encountering—Su Ye-Yue, Lady Su.
[She always relishes participating in grand events. Why isn't she among them?]
Perplexed by her absence, Cha-Eun Xiao observed the procession more closely and confirmed that there was indeed no sedan bearing the emblem of the Palace of Hua-Yang.
This anomaly left him puzzled.
Normally, when such noteworthy events unfolded, Su Ye-Yue would be among the first to eagerly join her group of sisters on their adventures.
One of the key reasons he had been in such a rush to depart the mountain was to prevent a possible encounter with Su Ye-Yue. Although he was disguised as Feng Zhi-Ling, her familiarity with him as Cha Eun Xiao made him wary. He had no desire to risk exposure. Furthermore, having just emerged from a life-and-death struggle, he was both physically and mentally drained. His precarious state left him uncertain whether he could maintain his facade convincingly in Su Ye-Yue's presence.
[Why isn't she accompanying her group this time?]
Human nature was such that it continually sought out challenges.
He had fervently wished to evade Su Ye-Yue's notice, or perhaps for her to skip this particular event. Yet when she did not appear as expected, he found himself unexpectedly concerned about her absence.
He felt as though he had overlooked something of great significance.
Lost in thought, a sudden realization dawned on him, causing his expression to shift abruptly. He muttered, "Oh no."
Without further hesitation, he moved with the speed of a shooting star, racing toward a specific location within the city.
Cha-Eun Xiao had discerned the reason behind Su Ye-Yue's absence from the gathering. Today marked the eve of Prince Hua-Yang's departure for battle. It was a day dedicated to preparations and a family dinner—the final opportunity for familial togetherness before the prince embarked on his military campaign.
Even if Su Ye-Yue had been free to participate in the event, she would undoubtedly have chosen to remain at home with her father, cherishing these last moments of family unity before the prince ventured into the uncertainties of war.
As the day drew to a close and the night's shroud began to envelop the land, an extraordinary scene unfolded within the Palace of Hua-Yang. The palace, typically a bastion of solemnity, was now aglow with colorful lights that adorned its every corner.
The usually closed palace gates now stood wide open, revealing a sight quite unlike its everyday appearance. Flanking the entrance were a long spear on the left and a grand broadsword on the right. Instead of the guards, these formidable weapons now stood sentinel at the gate, a symbol of the impending battle.
Stretching forth from the gate were two rows of imposing broadswords, each measuring approximately one meter in length, excluding the hilt. Their gleaming edges seemed to shimmer beneath the kaleidoscope of colors that bathed the palace. As guests and warriors passed between these rows of swords, their faces were reflected upon the polished blades, accompanied by an undeniable air of impending danger.
The broadswords exuded an aura of coldness, which juxtaposed starkly with the vibrant hues of the palace's illumination. Every passerby could not help but sense the palpable aura of lethal intent that emanated from these weapons. Those of faint heart who occasionally traversed the Palace of Hua-Yang's gate during this time would be struck with terror or fall ill upon encountering such a menacing display.
The individuals who strode purposefully along this path were none other than soldiers and generals, their countenances displaying a resolute determination. Gone were the usual maids who typically served the house, as they were granted a well-deserved day off. Some had retreated to the palace's rear courtyard, while most had returned to their respective homes.
On this day, those who welcomed guests and attended to the house's affairs were none other than battle-hardened soldiers who had seen countless campaigns. Their movements were swift and their gaze differed markedly from those who usually fulfilled these roles. These soldiers resembled ravenous eagles, finally set free to hunt their prey.
There was a feverish intensity etched upon their faces, coupled with a bloodthirsty gleam in their eyes. They knew full well that they were on the cusp of war, where the banners of Prince Hua-Yang would flutter triumphantly amidst the chaos of battle. The battlefield would be their canvas, where their lives would be painted in the vivid hues of the most exquisite night blossoms. Although their existence would be fleeting, this brief moment was sufficient to extinguish any lingering regrets.
In an unexpected turn, the clarions sounded a somber tune—a melody typically reserved for the battlefield. However, on this occasion, the clarions echoed in response to each other within the confines of the palace, their notes resonating in haunting unison.
Soon, the clarions' mournful cries extended beyond the palace walls, reverberating throughout the city. The streets leading to the palace announced a curfew, and the pathways had been meticulously cleaned. On either side of the road, ten thousand soldiers stood at attention, armed and vigilant.
Before the palace, a vast assembly of soldiers congregated, while within the palace itself, generals had gathered en masse. Surrounding the palace perimeter, countless soldiers formed a formidable barrier. In truth, the palace was teeming with an approximate total of twenty thousand soldiers, all present and prepared.
Amidst this solemn spectacle, not a single sound stirred the air save for the steady footfalls and the occasional gasps of anticipation. It was a silence so profound that it bordered on an eerie stillness, a rarity in these hallowed halls.
Beyond the city's boundaries, the army maintained a similar hushed demeanor. Within the sprawling encampments, soldiers sat silently, each grasping their weapons with unwavering resolve. Generals and soldiers alike remained motionless, sitting in groups of twenty around tables laden with sumptuous food and drink. Yet, despite the enticing aroma wafting through the air, not a morsel was consumed.
It appeared as if hundreds of thousands of statues had taken residence, casting an unyielding silence upon the encampments. Meanwhile, the clarions continued their haunting melody, a testament to the gravity of the impending battle.
Among the assembly of soldiers that stood in solemn silence, some bore the youthful countenances of first-time combatants. Initially, a mingling of fear and excitement danced in their eyes. However, as the profound stillness enveloped them, all traces of apprehension and enthusiasm faded away. A newfound sense of tranquility intermingled with fervor coursed through their veins, and their very blood seemed to ignite beneath the weighty hush that surrounded them.
This was no occasion for romantic notions or amorous pursuits. Today was solely about honoring the valorous men of the Kingdom of Chen's military. It was a celebration of these soldiers, unwavering in their dedication to duty.
From every corner of the city, fully armed troops gathered, converging upon a single point. Simultaneously, the streets burst into radiant illumination, as if paying homage to the approaching spectacle.
Emerging from the gates of the Palace of Hua-Yang came sixteen men, forming a dual procession on either side of the gate. These sixteen figures moved with synchronized precision, a uniformity that belied their extraordinary roles. They were not ordinary guards but rather distinguished generals hailing from Prince Hua-Yang's eight seasoned divisions.
From the northern direction, the resounding cadence of disciplined footfalls announced the arrival of a formidable force. Although the troops had not yet appeared, the echoes of their approach reverberated with an undeniable vigor.
"The northerners are arriving," the generals instinctively straightened their postures, their chests swelling with pride.
All eyes were fixed upon the same direction, awaiting the imminent arrival of their northern brethren.
Moments later, a banner unfurled at the street's corner, heralding the arrival of a meticulously ordered contingent. Leading the procession was a man of imposing stature, nearly three meters in height, who proudly bore the flag aloft. Each stride he took exuded an unyielding vigor.
"We are the Two Dragons, Two Tigers, and a Lion, designated by the esteemed Northern General, Cha Nan-Tian, to safeguard the capital. We stand here on behalf of General Cha Nan-Tian and the 560 thousand brethren in the Northern Army, extending our heartfelt congratulations to Prince Hua-Yang. May the royal sword of Prince Hua-Yang strike down our southern foes, and may you return triumphant and safe from the battle!" The man's voice resounded like the clash of steel upon steel—steady and unwavering. His congratulatory speech echoed with an indomitable spirit.
Following his proclamation, the four men standing behind him joined in a resounding chorus of approval.
However, the fifty soldiers comprising the rear echelon maintained their silence, their sharp eyes emanating an aura of solemnity.
With a synchronized motion, the fifty soldiers drew their swords in unison, creating a harmonious symphony of metallic resonance.
These Two Dragons, Two Tigers, and the Lion were among the ten generals who served under Cha Nan-Tian's command. Rotating every half year, ten generals took turns in service, preserving this longstanding tradition.
At this moment, the five generals entrusted with defending the city had come to extend their felicitations to Prince Hua-Yang. Though their numbers appeared relatively modest, when united, they possessed the formidable prowess to vanquish thousands of foes on the battlefield.