Chapter 152 — Battle of Huanglong Prefecture
Section 6 — Time Within the Walls
Time flows without sound.
Morning comes.
The sun rises.
The light fades.
Night falls again.
Within the fortress, each day repeated itself.
And so it felt even slower.
At first, no one moved in haste.
The granaries opened.
Rations were distributed as scheduled.
Soldiers stood in line, receiving grain into their bowls.
The quantity did not seem to decrease.
At least, not to the eye.
So they reassured themselves.
As more time passed,
people began to understand without speaking.
The bowls had grown lighter.
The amount looked the same,
yet the weight in the hand was different.
Some laughed it off.
Some pretended not to notice.
No one spoke first.
Because the moment someone did,
it felt as if everything would collapse.
Everyone knew—
yet no one said it.
The silence was a way to delay the truth.
The horses diminished first.
The stables grew quiet.
The breathing that once filled the night faded.
The sound of hooves scraping the ground disappeared.
Empty spaces became visible.
Messengers and scouts had been sent out—
and none returned.
At first, they said it was illness.
Then they said the horses had been dispatched.
At last, they said nothing.
It was not only the horses.
Men, too, were vanishing.
Posts stood empty.
The next shift filled them without question.
Names were not called.
And so no one searched for those who were gone.
Yelü Ning ordered the numbers to be counted again.
Grain.
Horses.
Men.
All counted anew.
The report returned.
The numbers did not match.
"This cannot be."
His voice was quiet,
but heavy.
No one answered.
No one could.
Because they understood.
Not the precise cause—
but the truth of what was coming.
On the walls, the wind still blew.
Outside, nothing had changed.
No enemy could be seen.
No battle unfolded.
That made it harder to endure.
The men longed for a fight.
If they could take up their blades and meet the enemy,
at least there would be an end.
But this war had no end in sight.
Things were simply diminishing.
Little by little.
Without being seen.
At night, the lights grew fewer.
Once, the fortress had glowed in many places.
Now, only a handful remained.
Darkness arrived first.
Men gathered together.
They did not speak.
They made no sound.
They listened.
For something beyond the walls.
For a sign of change.
But nothing came.
The silence pressed down even heavier.
That night,
Yelü Ning climbed the wall alone.
The wind was cold.
He looked out across the distant plain.
There were no lights.
No armies.
No banners.
Only darkness.
He stood there for a long time.
Then slowly, he closed his eyes.
Because he understood—
there was something that could not be seen.
And yet,
it was drawing closer.
It was
the time of ruin.