Chapter 151 — Battle of Huanglong Prefecture
Section 5 — The Severed Road
At first, they thought it was merely delayed.
The relief force that was supposed to enter through the southern gate of Huanglong had passed its appointed time.
Three days went by with no arrival.
Five days passed—still no word.
Inside the fortress, no one treated it as a serious issue.
The road was long and distant.
An army takes time to move.
Rain would slow them.
A swollen river would force a detour.
Such things happened.
So they waited.
Ten days passed.
Only then did it begin to feel strange.
News arrived that a second force had been dispatched.
That force, too, never arrived.
The air within the fortress grew heavier.
Yelü Ning climbed the wall.
He looked out across the southern plain.
The road was clearly visible.
No dust rose.
No shadow of horses appeared.
It was too quiet.
"—When did they depart?"
The officer beside him answered:
"It has already been more than ten days."
Yelü Ning nodded.
"Send more messengers."
The words were short.
The reply was just as brief.
"Yes."
The gates opened.
Hooves struck stone as the rider burst forward.
The messenger did not look back.
He lowered his body, tightened the reins, and drove the horse faster.
If he rode fast enough,
no one could stop him.
He pressed himself against the horse's neck.
The road stretched smooth ahead.
The forest on both sides stirred only with the wind.
Nothing ahead.
Nothing behind.
There was no reason to doubt.
The horse thundered forward—
And in that moment,
a single leaf trembled.
Too small for a man to notice.
Then—
A faint tearing sound.
So soft it could be mistaken for birdsong.
An arrow flew low and fast,
piercing the messenger's throat clean through.
He made no sound.
His body snapped backward.
He fell from the saddle.
The horse ran a few more steps,
then stopped, lost.
The forest returned to silence.
Moments later,
two Jurchen soldiers stepped out from between the trees.
They took the reins.
Dragged the body aside.
Covered the blood with dirt.
Erased the tracks.
Their movements were precise.
Efficient.
Nothing wasted.
The road was open again.
The second messenger rode even faster.
By then, the first had already failed to return.
That knowledge drove him harder.
He pressed himself lower,
almost clinging to the horse's neck.
He fixed his gaze forward,
refusing to look to either side.
To slow meant death.
He knew it.
But the arrow was faster.
It came from the side,
low and sudden—
piercing his flank.
He clenched his teeth.
Drove the horse harder.
Just once—
just through this stretch—
That was enough.
Then the forest ahead split open.
A spear shot forward.
A hidden soldier stepped out at the perfect instant.
The speed of the charge drove the point clean through his chest.
The body stopped.
The horse twisted and fell with him.
This time, three emerged.
They dragged horse and body off the road.
Buried the blood.
Swept the ground clean with branches.
Moments later,
it was once again an ordinary road.
The third, fourth, fifth messengers followed.
Nothing changed.
The moment they were seen,
it was already too late.
The attack began unseen—
and ended without ever being revealed.
No messenger returned.
This time, scouts were sent.
More men.
Wider spacing.
Advancing carefully, watching one another's sightlines.
The lead soldier raised his hand.
The column stopped.
The road was too clean.
No footprints.
No hoofprints.
No sign that anyone had passed.
It had been wiped.
And the moment that realization formed—
The forest came alive.
Arrows did not fall from above.
They came at eye level.
The front line collapsed before it could react.
Shouts broke out—
Too late.
From both sides, Jurchen warriors burst from the trees, low and fast.
At close range,
spears and blades struck together.
They did not linger.
Strike.
Cut.
Withdraw.
Then appear again from another angle.
The formation could not recover.
The front broke.
The sides split.
The rear pressed forward—
The road jammed.
When they tried to turn—
Arrows came from behind.
On the narrow path,
soldiers pushed against one another and fell.
No one could see the enemy.
No one knew where the attack began.
There were sounds—
but no direction.
Short screams.
Breaking steel.
Choked breath.
One by one,
they disappeared.
At the end,
only one remained.
He still held his sword.
But he did not know where to strike.
There was no one before him.
The forest was silent again.
Then—
A brief rush of air behind him.
That was the end.
Moments later,
the Jurchen emerged again.
They dragged away the bodies.
Covered the blood.
Smoothed the road.
Branches swept the earth.
Footprints were broken apart.
No trace remained.
The road opened again—
as if nothing had happened.
Each time the gates opened,
eyes followed.
Each time they closed,
the watching lasted longer.
And after that—
no one waited anymore.
Inside the fortress,
the horses began to disappear first.
At first, it was illness.
Then, long-distance dispatch.
At last, no reason was given.
They had simply vanished.
The grain stores also shrank.
The numbers were correct—
yet the speed was not.
They diminished faster
than what could be seen.
Someone began counting again.
From that moment on,
numbers became a problem.
"We will not hold at this rate."
A quiet voice.
Yelü Ning said nothing.
In that silence,
despair settled over the men.
He climbed the wall again.
The wind blew.
Banners moved.
Grass in the distance bent and rose.
No one came.
They waited for change.
Even ruin—
as long as it was something.
The end was drawing near.
The road remained.
Open.
Unbroken.
Unblocked.
That was what made it strange.
A blocked road can be seen.
A broken road can be seen.
But this road—
could not be seen.
It was severed
without appearing so.
That night,
for the first time, the gates closed early.
Lights dimmed.
Voices lowered.
People spoke less.
Avoided one another's eyes.
Some looked outward.
Some looked at the ground.
And all shared the same thought.
The road is gone.
No one spoke it aloud.
But from that night on,
Huanglong was no longer on any road.
Cut off from the world—
it stood alone.