Chapter 82: The Sixteenth Contest of Wills

The shrill, agonized cries of warhorses tore through the night, their voices echoing as if splitting the heavens. Horses with their tails ablaze broke free of their tethers, galloping about in blind terror, crashing into anything in their path. The straw in the stables was always kept meticulously dry; too much damp would breed illness among the steeds, and any moisture meant it had to be changed within days. Now, as burning horses ran screaming through the night, they left a trail of flames behind them, each step sparking fresh fires.

Meanwhile, Bu Li darted through the darkness, setting one horse’s tail after another alight, severing reins and then slipping away. The little wolf-girl took her tasks to heart—when Xu Le had signaled her to set fires and create chaos, she appeared intent on turning the entire place into an inferno.

Such a sudden calamity roused everyone in the camp. The entire encampment of over a thousand Yue warriors erupted into chaos, shouts and panicked screams rippling through the night. What had been a dark, sleeping mass was now ablaze, its fires illuminating the night sky and making it the most conspicuous spot for miles around.

Countless figures, wild and frenzied, rushed toward the stables. Those hostlers closest were thrown into panic, some staring dumbfounded at the sudden, voracious flames. At last, one stable-hand snapped out of his daze and shouted, “Put out the fire! Quickly!”

The others, jarred to their senses, let out wordless cries as they sprinted toward the water stores.

Inside the camp, aside from the outer defenses, the inner arrangements prioritized fire prevention above all. Vigilant patrols kept order, enforcing curfew so that no one could wander among the tents or whisper in secret. For fire prevention, water was stored in advance, firefighting tools kept at the ready, and firebreaks maintained between sections of the camp.

At the stables, large earthenware jars of water stood at the corners and center, along with wet-cloth-wrapped poles, buckets and ladles for scooping water, and iron prongs for raking burning straw.

The flames had only just begun; if they could be contained, and the horses calmed, perhaps the situation could still be salvaged. If the rest of the camp arrived in time, there was a slim chance they could regain control—and maybe, just maybe, survive this night.

Whether the fires were sabotage was no longer a concern—the spreading flames would claim more lives than a handful of enemy infiltrators ever could.

Seven or eight stable-hands rushed to a water cache, grabbing buckets in a flurry; others hefted prongs, ready to beat back the fire. Suddenly, in the flickering firelight, a small shadow burst out, twin blades flashing coldly as it slipped between two stable-hands, striking left and right.

Both men fell, clutching their throats as blood spurted from between their fingers.

It was Bu Li, the little wolf-girl, who, fearing her fires might not be fierce enough, had come to cut down those who would quench them.

Her grandfather, Rodun, had told her to obey Xu Le’s commands—so whatever Xu Le ordered, she carried out to the letter.

Behind her, flames roared upward, warhorses screamed, and burning embers rained down like a fiery storm. The heat had curled Bu Li’s long hair at the ends; her blue eyes now reflected only the blood-red glow of the fire. Her twin daggers still dripped with blood.

Once drawn into combat, Bu Li was no longer the somewhat daft, innocent girl she appeared by day—she became a veritable demon.

The hostlers stared at the little girl who had suddenly slaughtered her way into their midst. At last, they realized: she had set the stables ablaze and now meant to kill them all.

With a roar, their eyes reddened; those with knives drew them, those without hefted fire-beating poles, and all rushed at her in a desperate pack. All manner of weapons and tools came crashing down toward Bu Li.

These sons of the grasslands had gone mad; if they were to die by fire, they would first kill the wolf-girl.

Bu Li was a master of sudden attack, darting in and out of tight spaces like a wildcat. Yet she was slight and lacked strength—she could not wield large weapons. Against such a direct assault by the hostlers, she would ordinarily slip away.

With the fire raging, horses screaming and embers flying, the chaos was perfect cover; surely, none of these men could hope to catch her.

But tonight, she did not retreat—she pressed forward, dueling the hostlers with her twin daggers.

Xu Le had asked her to set fires and create confusion; so long as she kept the hostlers occupied, the blaze would spread all the more fiercely.

The days of growing up among wolves had faded to a blur—what Bu Li remembered most now was the warmth of being at Rodun’s side. In her simple world, that was everything. Rodun sent her to Xu Le, and she obeyed. Xu Le, in turn, proved worthy of Rodun’s trust: he had ridden alone into the enemy’s ranks, been imprisoned in Cloud City, and then broken out again to rescue Rodun.

All this was enough for Bu Li to accept Xu Le into her small, uncomplicated world.

If Xu Le commanded it, she would see it done. As for her own life or death—what did that matter?

In mere moments, Bu Li was already wounded, blood spraying as she fought on, gritting her teeth and refusing to yield. The hostlers had her surrounded, blades and poles hemming her in so tightly there was no room to maneuver. The next instant, it seemed, the little wolf-girl would be hacked to pieces.

At that very moment, the screams of the panicked horses grew louder still, and the thunder of hooves shook the earth, mingling with the explosions of burning timbers. The sound was deafening, as if the sky itself might collapse.

The hostlers looked up in terror—one section of the stables had collapsed in flames, embers swirling upward into the night. A dozen warhorses, their hindquarters ablaze, came charging like a living wall of fire.

The sight was so terrifying that the hostlers’ will to fight fled; they could only stare, dumbstruck.

From within that wall of fire burst a white horse, neck arched and hooves flashing as it gave a long, piercing whinny. In the flickering light, to the stunned eyes of the hostlers, it looked as though the magnificent beast was leaping straight out of the flames, transformed into a dragon by fire.

This was Heiguo’s steed, and astride it, radiant with energy, was Xu Le himself.

Xu Le charged through, leaning down with his blade—using the momentum of his mount, he cleaved through two hostlers in a single stroke, blood spraying as he broke the encirclement.

He reached out, and Bu Li, lips pressed tight, grasped his hand; with a swing, she landed behind him on the horse and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.

The remaining hostlers, now utterly broken, screamed and fled, abandoning the fire.

From astride his horse, Xu Le surveyed the scene—the stables were an inferno, flames leaping high into the air, burning horses galloping wildly through the camp and setting tent after tent alight. Countless figures surged about in confusion, not knowing what to do.

The entire Yue encampment was now engulfed in fire, beyond hope of saving.

Xu Le jerked the reins and charged toward the royal pavilion—this was his best chance to rescue Rodun. And if Rodun had already perished, then the entire Yue camp would serve as his grandfather’s pyre.