Chapter Five: The Six Senses

More than twenty mounted riders, leading packhorses, struggled along the winding mountain path. The wind was harsh and cold, but the sun was bright. Looking far in every direction, the mountains stretched endlessly, stirring a sense of vastness in the heart.

Shenwu and Yunzong lay within a basin encircled by mountains. Since Han times, a main road had connected Shenwu to Yunzong, wide enough for horses and carts to travel. Beyond Yunzong, the mountains gave way to the boundless northern grasslands.

During Emperor Wu of Han’s reign, tens of thousands, sometimes even a hundred thousand troops, would assemble at Yunzong, launching campaigns north against the Xiongnu, venturing deep into the southern deserts. The road made it possible to sustain such armies with supplies.

Yet Xu Le’s small caravan did not take the main road winding between the mountains. Instead, they pressed deeper into the hills, following a narrow, twisting path carved by merchant caravans, traveling in single file.

The reason was simple: with the Emperor now fled south and the regional governors behaving like independent warlords, the land was rife with conflict. Within Mayi County itself, Governor Wang Rengong and the Cloudwatch Commander Liu Wuzhou vied, openly and in secret, for power.

The main roads were now thick with tax posts, each one eager to bleed traveling merchants dry. The wealth thus extracted went directly to strengthen the retainers of local lords.

A small convoy like Xu Le’s, if it followed the official road through Yunzong and into the steppe, would find the twenty loads of goods taxed so heavily that barely a fraction would remain by journey’s end.

Such was the sign of an age falling into chaos: the laws that once held a great empire together gradually decaying.

Yet the mountain paths were far more grueling than the main road. The travelers braved the wind and open sky, with no shelters along the way, enduring storms and cold, every hardship borne alone.

Wild beasts prowled the mountains, ever a threat. As order collapsed, bandits and mounted raiders rose again; even stray Tujue scouts sometimes ventured into the hills near Yunzong. Encountering such foes meant fighting for their very lives.

To travel as a merchant now was truly to wager one’s life. If the old master Xu were leading them north, the hired hands and young swordsmen might feel some confidence. But now, following the untested Young Master Le, all were wary and anxious, be they farm hands or swordsmen.

They had been on the road for over ten days, now deep within the mountains. All felt their energy draining, exhaustion etched onto every face. Even the pack and riding horses seemed to sense their masters’ tension; their neighs grew few on these mountain trails.

Only Xu Le kept his usual spirited, elegant demeanor. Although dressed in the same travel-worn, short-sleeved clothing as the others, he somehow managed to cut the figure of a young noble, as if this deadly journey was a mere outing for pleasure.

As hoofbeats echoed, the team crested a mountain ridge just as the setting sun brushed the western peaks, stretching their shadows long across the summit.

Xu Le climbed to the highest point, surveyed the surroundings, and then, sweeping a hand in a circle, laughed, “Let’s rest here! The ground is dry, the view is open. Aside from the wind, there’s nothing wrong with the place!”

The farm hands and swordsmen soon followed. Hearing Xu Le’s order, they passed the goods off the packhorses and loosened girths, some gathering firewood and water, others busying themselves preparing camp for the night.

A farm hand in his forties climbed up and took a look around. “We’re on the right track. In two days, we’ll circle past Yunzong. Seven more stages through the mountains and we’ll reach the grasslands. For your first journey, Young Master Le, you have a remarkable sense of direction!”

Xu Le only smiled, seeing no need to tell the man that his grandfather had, from childhood, piled grains of rice into mountains, teaching him the lay of the land and how to use terrain, how to remember his way in the wild. This whole journey, he had been silently testing his grandfather’s lessons, only to discover he had a natural talent for it.

His grandfather’s training had never been for a life spent in quiet Shenwu County, yet he refused to tell Xu Le his true lineage, rarely letting him out of sight. Such contradictions must have weighed heavily on the old man.

Just as Xu Le was about to help with camp, he suddenly pricked up his ears.

All around was woodland; though the bitter wind had stripped many branches, leaves still clung thickly. Along the way, he’d heard foxes and hares, but rarely glimpsed them amidst the dense forest.

Their campsite, at the mountaintop, was exposed to the wind and cold, but Xu Le had chosen it for its visibility and safety. No one objected; hardship was a given on such a journey.

Just then, Xu Le heard the faint snap of a branch breaking somewhere below, but none of the others—not even Han Yue—seemed to notice.

This too was a result of his grandfather’s secret training, heightening Xu Le’s senses beyond the norm.

For a general, clad in armor and charging into enemy ranks, such instinctive awareness was vital—dodging the deadliest blows, finding weak points, winning victory for his lord. Xu Le, having suffered this grueling training, understood it was no ordinary swordsman’s skill. As he grew, he had often wondered at his own origins, once even rebelling for answers—but his grandfather had been even more stubborn and refused to tell him. The old man’s reputation and Xu Le’s own lavish generosity had earned him the title Young Master Le, but he was no match for Han Yue, who’d won his name in real fights. Among the swordsmen of Shenwu, the “Little Gate God” was a figure of awe.

With such a grandfather, Xu Le often felt his nineteen years had been spent in a kind of helplessness…

He stared toward the source of the sound for a while, but all was soon quiet again. Xu Le only smiled, then walked over to Han Yue, busy with preparations, and whispered a few words to him.

The campfire flickered, the mountain wind stretching and shrinking the flames, casting shifting shadows over everyone’s faces.

The little caravan, even at night, kept to clear divisions: swordsmen on one side, farm hands on the other, as had been the case for ten days now.

A few swordsmen, wrapped in furs, watched as their leader, Song Bao, was called over by Han Yue for a quiet conversation.

These swordsmen, though such in name, had chosen poorly. Song Bao had angered a captain of the Mayi Eagle Command, and now, with all the other swordsmen recruited away, they were left behind. Liu Wuzhou in Yunzong was known for favoring only his old comrades from Korea; few exceptions were made, and it was hard to rise in his service. In their predicament, these men had little choice. Otherwise, why would Song Bao, famed for his bravery, follow a group of farm hands and a coddled young master like Xu Le on such a perilous route?

They were out of money and avoiding the hard-edged Governor Wang. Their hope was to risk this merchant run, earn some funds, and then join the army in Hedong, where the Duke of Tang was said to be recruiting.

After these ten days, the swordsmen were visibly worn down. In a fight, they surpassed the farm hands, but they lacked the stamina for hardship and now felt the journey hardly worth it.

Soon after, Song Bao returned from his conversation with Han Yue, grunting as he sat by the fire.

One swordsman asked, “Boss, what did Han say?”

Song Bao snorted. “Said our Young Master Le thinks he heard something nearby and tonight may not be peaceful. Told us to be on our guard.”

The swordsman hunched his shoulders, glancing around. “It’s dead quiet—who’d be lying in wait for us on a freezing night like this?”

Song Bao sneered, “There used to be bandits along this route, but look at things now. Governor Wang is recruiting in Shanyang and Shenwu, and Liu the Eagle Commander in Yunzong is gathering every able-bodied man he can. Those bandits have all been turned into soldiers for the Heng’an Eagle Command—who’d bother staying out here?”

He pointed at Xu Le, who was laughing quietly with the farm hands by the fire.

“That Young Master Le is just lucky—he fell in with the famous old master Xu. Now the old man is gone, and this spoiled youth takes the wild road, only to find Governor Wang and Liu the Eagle Commander have already cleared the path for him! All the work is left to his farm hands, and now he wants to give us something to do.”

The swordsmen glanced over: the firelight carved Xu Le’s fine features into even sharper relief. Even in the wilderness, he looked every bit the elegant young noble out for a spring excursion. The sight made the weary swordsmen’s eyes twitch in irritation.

One muttered, “So what’s your plan, boss?”

Song Bao snorted, “Go to sleep. Who cares what he says! Han Yue may have his reputation, but I’m the Iron Soaring Swallow of Shenwu! When this is over, we’ll settle accounts—thirty percent of the profit, plus a bonus!”

Another chimed in, “That horse of Young Master Le’s isn’t bad. Once we reach Hedong and join the army, the Duke of Tang will recognize true talent—maybe you’ll end up in the elite cavalry of the Eagle Command!”

In the Eagle Command, the cavalry had the best pay by far, with each man earning two strings of cash a month, and walking tall wherever they went.

Fired up by his comrades’ words, Song Bao cast a fierce look at the red horse grazing nearby and ordered, “That’s for later. For now, get some sleep!”