The air was deathly still, save for the distant howl of the wind over the barren expanse of the North Plains. Snow clung to the ground in a thick, unrelenting blanket, but Hui Jian stood unmoved. His mind, sharp and clear, ticked over the final steps of his plan. Every detail had been considered, every risk accounted for. The beastman warband would be here soon.
He crouched atop a ridge overlooking the narrow gorge, a natural choke point where he had chosen to lay the trap. His keen eyes scanned the area, watching as his scattered warriors took their positions among the rocks and snowdrifts. They moved like shadows, silent and unseen, just as he had instructed. This was his battlefield, and every piece was set in place.
Across the field, Ren crouched behind a boulder, his breath coming out in quiet puffs of mist. He glanced up, catching Hui Jian's eye, and gave a subtle nod. Everything was ready.
Hui Jian didn't respond. His focus was locked on the distant horizon, where he knew the enemy would soon appear. The Frozen Mind Gu pulsed within him, sharpening his thoughts, allowing him to stay calm in the face of the coming bloodshed. There was no room for fear here, no place for hesitation. This was survival, and in the North Plains, only the cold-hearted prevailed.
The beastman warband had fallen into his hands before they even knew it.
He had carefully spread rumors of an abandoned camp further south, one filled with supplies and easy prey. The beastmen had taken the bait, and now they were marching straight into his trap.
As the sun began to sink lower, the first signs of movement caught his attention. In the distance, dark shapes trudged through the snow—hulking forms, moving in slow, deliberate strides. The warband.
They came closer, their forms becoming clearer as the light of the dying sun illuminated their fur-covered bodies and crude weapons. Beastmen were formidable creatures, twice the size of any human, their brutish strength enough to tear a man in half. But strength alone was not enough to save them today.
The moment was approaching. Hui Jian could feel it in the air, the tension before the storm. His heartbeat remained steady, his breathing calm. He watched the beastmen enter the narrow gorge, just as he had planned.
Once the entire warband had moved into position, Hui Jian gave the signal—a sharp, deliberate hand movement. His warriors, hidden among the cliffs, sprang into action.
Mei Lin was the first to strike. Her arrows flew from her bow with deadly precision, piercing the neck of one of the lead beastmen before the creature even had time to react. The beastman collapsed with a gurgling roar, clutching at the wound as blood poured into the snow.
The others reacted with brute instinct, roaring in fury and charging forward. But Hui Jian had anticipated their every move.
From the opposite side of the gorge, Ren and his fighters emerged, cutting off the beastmen's escape. Trapped between the two forces, the warband had no room to maneuver. They fought back with wild, savage strength, swinging their heavy weapons at anyone within reach, but it was a futile struggle.
Lao Shun, wielding a curved blade, engaged one of the larger beastmen in a vicious melee. The beastman roared, swinging its club with bone-shattering force, but Lao Shun danced around the blows, using speed and precision to carve deep gashes into the creature's flesh.
All around the gorge, Hui Jian's warriors fought with desperate ferocity. Arrows whistled through the air, blades clashed, and the snow quickly turned red with blood. It was a brutal, chaotic battle, but every step had been planned, every move anticipated.
Hui Jian remained where he was, watching the battlefield unfold. He didn't rush in; he didn't need to. His role here was not to fight, but to control the flow of the battle, to ensure that everything happened according to his design.
The beastmen were strong, but they were disorganized, relying on sheer force to overpower their enemies. Hui Jian's warriors, though fewer in number, fought with discipline and coordination, striking at the weak points in the beastmen's defense, exploiting every opening.
But not all of his warriors were meant to survive.
In the chaos, Hui Jian had positioned a few of the more disloyal leaders in the most dangerous spots, where the fighting was fiercest. He watched as one of them, a man named Tao Sheng, was overwhelmed by a pair of beastmen. Tao Sheng had been a loud voice of dissent in the camp, questioning Hui Jian's leadership at every turn. Now, he lay broken and bleeding in the snow, his body trampled underfoot by the charging beastmen.
It was no accident.
Hui Jian had placed Tao Sheng there deliberately, knowing that his death would serve a dual purpose. Not only would it eliminate a potential threat to his authority, but it would also send a clear message to the others: loyalty was rewarded, and defiance was fatal.
As the battle raged on, the beastmen's numbers dwindled. The ambush had worked perfectly. They were outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and outmatched. One by one, the hulking creatures fell, their roars fading into gurgles of agony as they bled out in the snow.
In the end, only a few beastmen remained standing, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. They were surrounded now, trapped with no way out.
Hui Jian finally moved, stepping down from the ridge and approaching the battlefield. The snow crunched beneath his boots, stained red with blood. His sword was still sheathed, but his presence alone was enough to draw the attention of the last remaining beastmen.
The leader of the warband, a towering brute with a massive axe, locked eyes with Hui Jian. There was no fear in its gaze, only a deep, primal rage.
It charged at him, bellowing in fury, its axe raised high.
Hui Jian remained still, his eyes cold and calculating. At the last moment, he sidestepped the beastman's wild swing and drew his blade in a single fluid motion. The edge of the sword sliced cleanly through the creature's throat, and it collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud.
Silence fell over the battlefield.
Hui Jian stood over the corpse, his sword dripping with blood. Around him, his warriors began to gather, their breaths heavy, their faces grim. The battle was over, and they had won.
Ren approached him, wiping blood from his face. "That was... brutal," he said quietly.
"It was necessary," Hui Jian replied, sheathing his sword. "We couldn't afford to lose."
Ren nodded slowly, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of unease. He had seen the way Hui Jian had allowed some of their own to die, had noticed how carefully the ambush had been planned to eliminate not just the enemy, but also the disloyal.
But he said nothing.
The others, too, seemed to sense the shift in the air. Hui Jian had proven himself once again, but there was a coldness to him now, a ruthlessness that couldn't be ignored. He was not just a leader; he was a strategist, a manipulator who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.
As they made their way back to the camp, Hui Jian allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The beastmen were defeated, and the camp was safe—for now. But more importantly, his position within the group had been solidified.
And that was exactly what he wanted.
The cold wind howled through the night as Hui Jian led his warriors back toward the camp, their victory hard-won but complete. In the shadows, his mind worked tirelessly, planning the next move.
There were always more battles to fight, more pieces to move. And Hui Jian was ready for whatever came next.