Kirin Pass Gorge

Wedged awkwardly between the Beast of Burdens and Lance, she found herself unable to move forward or retreat, and even the slightest inclination to shift to the sides was unthinkable—she would be instantly riddled with arrows. Lance, on the other hand, showed no signs of embarrassment or extraneous thought; as he emerged from his contemplation, a confident smile curled at his lips. “Don’t you think the accuracy of our attackers is suspiciously poor?”

She was momentarily bewildered, not realizing Lance was speaking to her until his hand rested on her shoulder. Only then did she recall that at this very moment, she was the only one who could answer him. “…Hmm?”

Lance paid little mind to her reaction, wholly engrossed in his own musings. “Even though we’ve used the Beast of Burdens’ corpse to form a triangular shield, it wouldn’t be hard for them to simply change their angle and take us out. Why haven’t they?”

Forcing herself to focus, she wracked her tangled thoughts for clarity. “So, you’re saying they don’t actually want to kill us, but just want to scare us?”

“Not to scare—your reasoning’s close, but off,” Lance agreed partially. “I think it’s more like a small test.”

“A… test?” she stammered, and in that instant, her mind was swarmed by the image of endless exam papers flying toward her, each emblazoned with a glaring red ‘59’.

“Yes.” Lance smiled again. “After all, we’re suspicious individuals from Ecasia. Before entering Qilin Gorge, it makes sense that they’d want to probe us a little, don’t you think?”

Qilin Gorge was the name of the first city to the north at the crossroads—also the first stop for her and Lance on this journey. As the second line of defense against the beasts, while it wasn’t as militarized as Ecasia, its manpower and resources were hardly inferior. With a natural barrier before its gates, it was the very model of an impregnable city. Yet, despite its advantageous position, when its neighbor Ecasia suffered a devastating blow, Qilin Gorge merely looked on with cold indifference, making no move to help.

A city whose leaders failed to grasp even such a fundamental principle as “when the lips perish, the teeth grow cold” could only be led by one of two kinds of people: 1) The mayor was a once-in-a-millennium fool, a coward, a myopic embodiment of incompetence; or 2) The mayor was undoubtedly in league with the rebel counter-revolutionaries in the imperial capital.

If it was the former, she could always cling to Lance’s thigh and use force to settle matters. But if it was the latter… why did she feel as though she was a lamb being led to the slaughter, an innocent sheep delivered into the maw of a tiger? While worrying awkwardly about her fate, her thoughts suddenly turned to the faces of Liangyin and Huanluo.

I only hope I can see you both again while I still draw breath, she thought, tears brimming in her eyes as she gazed at Lance, who was already poised for action without consulting her, making her fear for her life as never before.

But those she was fretting over were faring no better.

Without ceremony, Huanluo pushed open Xia Kui’s door. “Where have you sent Liangyin?”

“You should knock before entering; haven’t I taught you that?” Xia Kui paid no heed to Huanluo’s agitation; her expression was as serene as ever. It was a perfect afternoon for tea, and Xia Kui lounged by the window, basking in the gentle autumn sunlight. On the small table beside her sat tea, pastries, and a thick book she’d recently set aside—everything in the room exuded calm, with not a trace of disorder.

But none of this tranquility could quell the storm inside Huanluo. She strode toward Xia Kui, gaze sharp and towering, as if confronting an enemy rather than a mother. “What is it that you want? First it was her and Lance, now it’s Liangyin and some of our newly recruited soldiers. How many people close to me must you send away before you’re satisfied?”

“My dear Luo, do you know,” Xia Kui’s voice was gentle as ever, as if her daughter was not venting anger but sulking affectionately. “When you first joined the military, I told your father you were not suited to be a general. You appear wary and composed, but your heart is too kind, your hand too soft. Once you trust someone, you never doubt them.”

“Employ the trustworthy, do not trust the dubious,” Huanluo replied, unmoved.

“Even if those you trust could plunge Ecasia into perpetual unrest?” Xia Kui countered with a smile.

Huanluo narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Xia Kui for a long moment before speaking. “Are you saying that among them—her, Liangyin, or Lance—there is a traitor?”

Xia Kui did not answer directly, nor did she meet Huanluo’s gaze. Instead, she idly traced the rim of her teacup. “Your advice last time was effective. His new life’s mission is to go door to door, apologizing to every family affected by the war. Ecasia isn’t large, but it’s not small either—making amends to every household will keep him busy for quite some time.”

Huanluo couldn’t guess at Xia Kui’s intentions. Over the years, the gentle, capable, and untroubled Xia Kui had concealed most of her own sharpness. If not for the current crisis in Ecasia, perhaps Huanluo would never have seen this commanding and imposing side of her mother.

After a sip of tea, Xia Kui finally continued, “That day, he was at the Tasting Pavilion—what you all call the Big Dumpling Shop—apologizing to the owner, when he happened to witness a mysterious figure chatting with Budra. You know what happened next: it was Andy’s servant who sent word to Burton, bringing the troops, but the mysterious figure still escaped. Nevertheless, you were rescued by coincidence.”

Huanluo gestured for her to go on.

Xia Kui obliged. “Don’t you find it all too coincidental? You just happened to go to the forest, happened to meet her and Liangyin, happened to share the same destination. Andy happened to encounter the mysterious figure, Ecasia happened to go to war, Lance appeared at just the right moment, and when one plan failed, the mysterious figure happened to run into Budra. With so many coincidences stacked together, how can I not be suspicious?”

A seed of doubt sprouted in Huanluo’s mind, yet she clung to her own convictions when it came to those on her “white list.” “I don’t suspect her or Liangyin—I believe in them.”

“So do I,” Xia Kui replied unexpectedly, catching Huanluo off guard. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t suspect the others—Lance and certain soldiers whose actions are unusual. So I sent them out of Ecasia.”

“Where did you send Liangyin?” Huanluo pressed, frowning, returning to her original question.

“While the beasts have yet to return to the forest, I sent her to seek reinforcements—and, along the way, to weed out any suspicious soldiers traveling with her,” Xia Kui said, nibbling a pastry. “Liangyin is endearingly muddled when she can be, and clear-headed when she must. I’m fond of her.”

“But you shouldn’t have sent two people unrelated to Ecasia—her and Liangyin—together with an unknown and potentially dangerous figure to handle an even more dangerous task!” Knowing the reason did nothing to calm Huanluo; her anger only intensified. “That was my responsibility to bear. Wait—” A sudden, terrifying thought struck her, and her pupils contracted. “Don’t tell me the reinforcements you spoke of are…”