Chapter 24
Solitary Souls
Pitch-black night. The storm raged. The gale howled like a savage beast, as if to tear up every root, shred every blade of grass, and cast down the fleeing figures in the barren mountains and wild valleys.
They fell and rose again, driving forward with all their strength, crushing their pain as their comrades died beneath the blazing fire-arrows.
Blazing flames turned the ancient forest into a colossal torch. Thick smoke billowed upward, driving the stench of death into the wrathfully roaring sky, as if burning into the scalding tears within its crimson eyes.
Companions in the rear fell one after another, their bodies torn apart by the enemy's sabers and swords. Even so, they fought back with all their might, one against a hundred, until utterly exhausted, dying under a rain of a thousand sabers and ten thousand swords from the pursuing ferocious enemy.
Between heaven and earth echoed the roar of fury; they vowed to fight to the death, battling until their strength was spent, until their bodies were shattered, in order to hold back the enemy.
Not a single cry of pain, nor a word urging or advising anyone to save themselves. The fallen feared their comrades might waver; if they slowed even a step, they would suffer the same grim fate. Those who gained a chance to live did not dare look back, fearing the horrific sight that would force them to turn back and rescue, only to throw their lives away in vain death.
They had all reached an agreement: those who moved slowly must hold back the enemy at all costs, to win a chance of escape for their companions; and those who still hoped to live must never turn back.
From that moment on, the survivors could only press forward—then onward toward the future. They had to bury the past beneath the shame of a fallen nation and ruined homes, and one day, with their own hands, tear their enemies apart, rip them to pieces, and drink the blood of their irreconcilable foes.
Their minds churned. The clash of metal filled their heads, along with the sounds of slaughter and the unceasing thunder that rent the sky.
The chaos drowned out the twang of the commander's bowstring as a wolf-fang arrow screamed forth, splitting the wind, spinning as it flew straight toward the leader of the fleeing remnants. He was tall, clad in dark garments with leather armor, swinging his sword to hack through the trees blocking his path.
Sensing danger, he swiftly turned to the left, avoiding the arrow by a hair's breadth. His weapon flashed like lightning in his hand, turning with his body, cutting down the incoming arrows.
A rain of arrows pierced the chests of his companions. The fleeing remnants were briefly checked; the soldiers scattered at once, swift as the wind, closing in from all directions.
They stood back to back, gripping their blades tightly, breathing hard, hot breaths spilling from their mouths. Sweat and blood mingled, sliding down their sharply defined faces as bright eyes swept every direction, seeking a way out.
Yet within their sight there was not a single branch or blade of grass—only the enemy, layered upon layers, sealing every path of escape. Like a pack of wolves at the end of a hunt, they gloated, toying with their prey, preparing for the feast to come. The general called out:
- The last chance. Do you choose to be made lords and generals, or to become wandering souls, restless ghosts?
The leader answered in a cold voice:
- Those who follow me do not seek wealth or rank, do not fear heaven, do not fear earth, and fear death even less.
The general sneered:
- Foolish, utterly foolish! There is death lighter than a feather, and death heavier than a mountain. But what you choose is neither a death of honor among men nor a sacrifice for the people—it is a short-sighted and foolish end.
He rebuked the leader:
- Dugu Hun, as the elder brother, you have driven your brothers into the abyss. There is neither humanity nor honor in this.
He then pointed at the fleeing remnants:
- You rush toward death out of blind loyalty to your land. This is folly. The decaying court stands on the verge of ruin, yet you still cast away your lives. This is foolish loyalty.
He raised his voice to "lecture":
- You Han have a saying: "Those who understand the times are the true heroes. If you die in this desolate wilderness, who will mourn you? Who will record in the annals the merit of you throwing away your lives for a nation doomed to perish?
He clicked his tongue, shook his head, and showed a look of pity:
- To plunge headlong into a miserable end where only wandering souls and restless ghosts rejoice at gaining new companions—better to abandon the darkness and turn toward the light! Submit to the Celestial Empire, follow the Great Khan to wage war across the four quarters, conquer all under heaven, and rule the realm. Your names will be forever inscribed in the annals of heroes of the Great Mongol State!
The fugitives sneered at words meant to sow discord and buy hearts:
- Oh, that sounds good! But unfortunately, that wolf's den belongs to those Tatar barbarians and dog-born mongrels like you, not to us Han!
- Shut up! You Han-traitor dog, rootless and base, selling the realm for gain! We are Han, not a pack of Tatar dogs!
The leader, Dugu Hun, spoke with firm resolve:
- Better the honor of death than the shame of life! Born as people of the Central Plains, dead as ghosts of the Central Plains—we will never take the enemy as father!
The general heard in Dugu Hun's tone the pride of a descendant of Huaxia. These words also implied they did not fight for the Song court, but died for the Central Plains and bled for Huaxia.
The attempt at persuasion failed. The general gave a cold order:
- Refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit—kill!
The whole army charged forward. Blood splashed, heads rolled; one man fell, another followed, without end, driving the fleeing remnants into utter despair.
They resolved to fight to the death. Yet whenever a comrade fell and they were pressed into a desperate plight, they silently prayed for a miracle. Though they knew it was but a futile dream, the instinct to live still awakened their yearning for life, for death meant the end.
So long as a breath remained, there was still hope—though that hope was as fragile as the fate of a realm on the brink of ruin. Fighting until their eyes could no longer discern all things, they still craved a single chance. Even as they fought to the brink of madness, they still longed for the coming of a miracle.
Boom.
Lightning cleft the sky, accompanied by a heaven-shaking blast. The army, locked in frenzied slaughter, was jolted awake from its blood-madness, turning sharply, fierce eyes widening… as countless comrades were hurled into the air. This one lost both legs, that one an arm, another had his head severed, his body split in two.
The fugitives stood motionless, bodies rigid, blood boiling… an indescribable feeling—exultation… shock… or fear… as they faced two eerie dark figures, crossing and fusing, spiraling in motion, charging straight at that elite, battle-hardened force. They erupted with immeasurable power, breaking through the famed "Hunting Wolf Pack" formation.
Where the twin shadows passed, they ranged freely; the light of countless torches faded within the blood-stained heavens and earth. Their speed surpassed mortal limits, turning into lightning-like flashes, rending the enemy ranks and carving a path of blood for those trapped in despair.
- Run!
The dark figures shouted loudly, their voices shaking the very heavens, rousing the fugitives. They suddenly awakened to it—the miracle they longed for had finally come! To remain would only burden their rescuers; moreover, the enemy was rallying their spirit, and their formation shifted with great speed.
At the slightest delay, the reformed hunting formation would be hard to break again. All would perish, and even those two terrifying "monsters" would hardly escape the encirclement of the steppe wolves. Four people swiftly withdrew from the battlefield.
Hope for life flared once more. All fatigue seemed swept away; their legs no longer felt heavy but moved nimbly through the forest, overcoming every obstacle. Danger still clung to them like a shadow, never parting. Suddenly, whirlwind-like fire-arrows rushed in, and those with no path left leapt without hesitation into the raging current beneath the dark abyss.
At the brink of life and death…
Those who once regarded death as lighter than a feather now feared being smashed to pieces in the fall. They were unwilling to die thus, without having saved their own country. They desperately grabbed at tree branches growing from the cliff; broken branches fell one after another.
Those who were "afraid of death" wildly flailed their arms, clutching the cliff face.
Human strength was limited; fatigue once again assailed them. Like an invisible hand, it pried open their tightly clenched fingers and finally hurled the four resisting men into the river. The raging current swept one into the riverbed, while the remaining three were carried downstream.
No one knew how much time had passed before they gradually woke up. They coughed violently, pressed their chests, and spat river water from their mouths. The fugitives rubbed their blurred eyes and looked at the person who had just struck their faces to wake them.
The one who had awakened them was tall and sturdy, clad in black-and-red embroidered garments, and wearing a mask engraved with ghostly patterns. Another wore a black cloak, fully covering his body from head to toe, his face hidden beneath a hood, making it impossible to see. Inside the black hood, within a pitch-black void, two faint lights flickered like ghostly fire… causing those before him to feel an uncontrollable terror, as if facing Death itself.
The three of them stood frozen for a long time before realizing that these eerie, ghost-like figures were their saviors. The fleeing remnants cupped their hands and expressed gratitude for saving their lives.
- Follow me.
The masked man spoke briefly, then turned away. The "death god" silently followed. Neither of them spoke another word. Their mysterious and strange behavior made the three of them suspicious. They exchanged a glance and silently followed their benefactor toward a distant cave.
Inside the cave, torchlight revealed a bound man, his mouth tightly stuffed with thick cloth. The fleeing remnants roared in anger. Dugu Hun remained expressionless. His eyes had always been calm, but at this moment they erupted with icy killing intent. The man with his mouth stuffed trembled violently, even wetting himself in fear. The fleeing remnants shouted:
- This bastard is a Mongol hound. I will tear your body into a hundred pieces!
The bound man was a deputy general responsible for guarding a key position. His charge was to hold the defensive line and counterattack when reinforcements arrived. However, he betrayed them and surrendered, revealing the defense plan and pointing out the route for the Mongols to ambush the reinforcements. As a result, manpower was insufficient, provisions were lost, and the defensive line completely collapsed.
Dugu Hun was more enraged than anyone, yet he still stopped his comrades. The leader's sharp gaze pierced straight into the enemy's deepest fear.
- Besides you, who else betrayed us?
Under an oppressive aura, the deputy trembled continuously, as if a rope were slowly tightening around his throat.
- Spare me! I will tell you everything!
The two companions cursed loudly. Dugu Hun raised his hand, signaling them to be silent. He let out a cold laugh and suddenly squeezed the traitor's lungs, forcing him into suffocation and pain until he was compelled to speak:
- Li… is… Li… Heng…
Upon hearing this familiar name, Dugu Hun's eyes suddenly filled with crimson lines. Hatred from being betrayed by a trusted brother surged like a tidal wave, almost driving him to explode with rage. However, he knew his comrades were already in a frenzy. If they did not personally carve his flesh and tear out his organs, that hatred would consume their reason. Thus, he forcibly suppressed his anger and stepped aside.
The two comrades lunged forward like beasts. Blades and sword shadows intertwined until the traitor's body was torn into four pieces before they finally stopped. After the flames of hatred subsided, the three of them thanked their saviors again. Dugu Hun asked in doubt:
- How did you know he was a traitor?
Dugu Hun had never been restrained in front of others, even in front of their benefactor. The comrades feared his bluntness might cause misunderstanding, but the benefactor did not care and replied in a deep voice:
- During the battle, you all hurled curses and reviled them.
Dugu Hun did not believe in such strange coincidences. Whenever he asked anything, the benefactor only answered what he had seen or heard. This deepened their suspicion about the benefactor's origins.
Who were they?
Why had the two of them appeared at just the right moment to save them?
The three of them originally came from the rivers and lakes, yet they had never heard of nor seen such mysterious people, nor had they ever witnessed such inhuman speed and martial arts. Such arts... were not from the Central Plains.
The three of them exchanged secret glances. They suddenly noticed that the saviors were covered in blood, their clothes still carrying the smell of battlefield smoke. The battle just now had been swift, they slew countless enemies, yet such a heavy stench of death could not have spread so quickly. It was clear that before coming here, they had fought against dense Mongol formations and slain many enemies.
Who were they really? What was their true intent?
Suspicion slowly turned into unease, and the three of them even felt a trace of fear toward their saviors. Dugu Hun suppressed his emotions and asked:
- What do you plan to do?
One of them sighed:
- This defensive position belongs to White Wolf City under General Sima. That old man will surely count the dead soldiers. Once he finds out we are still alive, he will issue a bounty and have us captured and escorted to the royal court to stand trial. In the end, we will become scapegoats, helping him keep his position as general.
Another said to Dugu Hun:
- We should go live in seclusion in the mountains, brother…
Dugu Hun did not want to live a hopeless life:
- The land suffered devastation, and the realm was in decline. We could not keep hiding ourselves, only to preserve this humble life!
The companion scratched his head in frustration and answered helplessly:
- But this world is so vast, yet there is no place for us to find refuge!
The masked man had been waiting for these words, and then spoke to guide the way:
- If you no longer have a place in the Central Plains, then change your names and go to the South.
This bold suggestion made the three of them freeze in place, remaining silent for a long time. The masked man spoke calmly:
- The hooves of the Hu barbarians had trampled across many nations; only the South remained temporarily at peace.
Dugu Hun said:
- In the future, the Tatars will surely invade the South to fulfill their ambition of dominating the world.
The masked man replied:
- Future matters are decided by the future. What matters most at this moment is not concern for the suffering of the people, nor the rise and fall of the realm, but finding a place to stay. Good land nurtures birds; people live in peace and work in contentment. Brave and skilled soldiers could only be useful when they met wise commanders, and only then could they have a chance to survive.
Everyone fell silent. No one knew what the future would be like. But they could choose the present. Although the savior had not said it directly, everyone vaguely understood—indeed, they already concluded—that the fall of the Great Song seemed inevitable. They could not save the people from the calamity of the Hu barbarian invasion, and restoring the broken realm was nothing but an illusion.
They could only seek revenge. And that opportunity lay in the South—the land of the most stubborn "monsters" in history. The people there had once suffered humiliation and enslavement, yet they rose again amid the flames of war and smoke… perhaps… they would once again survive the storm of foreign invasion.
But deep in their hearts, there was still unease:
- The people of the South do not welcome people from the North!
"Death" remained silent all along, but at this moment he suddenly spoke, his voice dark and eerie, like a ghost calling souls:
- The people of the South hated invaders… but… they welcome friends and guests.
The masked man then said:
- Those who know heroes respect heroes. A wise ruler would cherish loyal and righteous men. Beyond that, you had no other choice—no way out, only the South.
Dugu Hun and his group fell into deep thought; this concerned the fate of their entire lives. They hesitated and had yet to make a decision.
- The people of Dali had just fled south. If you went south, you could go to Quy Hoa Village and see for yourselves how the Southern people treated those from the North.
The fleeing remnants were surprised by this sudden statement. The masked man took out a crest engraved with the image of Xuanwu from his chest and handed it to Dugu Hun:
- Give this crest to the village chief of Ha Bong; he will arrange for people to take you back to Thang Long.
The words "Thang Long" shocked the three of them, and they stared at their savior. Confused thoughts lingered in their hearts like their dim future, forcing them to wonder whether they could trust these two mysterious people.
Dugu Hun hesitated and accepted the crest.
Although his companions could not see the expression behind the mask, they faintly felt that the savior might be smiling at that moment, because they noticed Dugu Hun was no longer completely emotionless.
- In the end, who are you two?
The masked man replied calmly:
- Not enemies, but not yet friends.
"Death" looked up at the starry sky:
- It was already late…
He did not wait for any response and turned away instantly. The masked man also left quickly:
- We will meet again in Thang Long.
The two mysterious figures disappeared in an instant, like the wind, leaving behind an unanswered question. Behind this mystery lies a turning point of fate—or a dangerous trap waiting for prey.
The companions looked at Dugu Hun, who was gripping the crest tightly, and understood that their leader had already made his decision. No matter how dangerous the road ahead was, he would take the risk.
Whether the South was a land that could change their fate, or a "monster" land that meant death, he had decided to wager everything.
He had no other choice and nowhere else to go.
The companions also had only this path left.
The tall, scholarly companion asked:
- Dugu brother, apart from wars and conflicts, what kind of country was Annam?
While seeking temporary shelter, Dugu Hun reminded them:
- From now on, my name is Gao Huang… and… do not call that place Annam anymore!
The two companions looked at each other in confusion. The tall and rough man asked:
- Then what should we call it?
Gao Huang looked toward the brightest star in the southern night sky:
- Dai Viet!
The two replied in unison:
- Understood.
The rough man asked again:
- But why should it not be called Annam?
Gao Huang let out a light sigh:
- This was a never-ending story of history… and it was the first lesson you must understand about the South.