The surrounding scenery receded like a tide, engulfed by boundless darkness speckled with faint blue light.
“Ah!” The next second, Shen Mo snapped his eyes open in his bed.
“My lord?” Mai, the eldest daughter of the Shiranui clan sleeping beside him, sat up immediately.
She reached out and touched Shen Mo’s forehead, finding him dripping with sweat when he had been fine moments before.
Seeing the worry in Mai’s clear, spring-like eyes, the awakened Shen Mo couldn’t help letting out a soft sigh.
“Hss—” Just as he was about to speak, a sudden sharp pain throbbed between his temples.
“Is it a headache?
Should I ask Sister Zhao to come over and check?” “It’s fine, just a mild ache.” The throbbing pain soon subsided, but Shen Mo’s mind was still consumed by the vision from his dream.
Shi Yanmo…
was she real?
Was the prophecy he saw real as well?
Unease gnawed at him.
Though he had dealt with monsters and demons back in Cathay, he couldn’t guarantee he made the right call every time.
Back in Cathay, he had the System to rely on, but now the System didn’t seem quite so reliable…
Every human life was precious, even more so when these were all native Cathayans.
Unless driven to absolute desperation, Shen Mo didn’t want any of his subordinates coming to harm.
But seeing the Soul Dragon Shi Yanmo and a prophecy seemingly linked to the Moon Empress in his dream tonight had left him thoroughly shaken.
“What time is it?” “It is already 05:00.” Shen Mo rolled out of bed, dressed with Mai Shiranui’s assistance, and first ordered the guards on duty to rouse the troops before requesting his armor to be brought in.
“Did you dream of something, My Lord?” “I dreamt Zimo and her men ran into an ambush.
Though I know it might just be anxiety taking form, I can’t stop thinking about it.” Shen Mo had nothing to hide from the Niponese kunoichi, so he laid out his anxieties completely.
“So you intend to send forces to meet General Guan?” “Yes.
But this time, I will lead the force myself.” Equipping his armor fully, Shen Mo pulled back the flap of his tent and stepped outside.
The entire camp—or rather, the entire town—had completely sprung to life.
Horns and drums resounded in turn.
Beyond the proper soldiers, even the old farmers under Shen Mo’s command had been armed.
The Onyx Crowmen had already set out ahead of time.
Strange magical beings capable of flight, the Onyx Crowmen were natural scouts for gathering intelligence.
They flew east along the path Guan Zimo and her party had taken, searching for their traces from above.
Meanwhile, in the open field of the town’s parade grounds, 290 Great Bastion Jingsai Guards and 60 sharp-shooting Linebreakers had assembled in full formation.
One must not underestimate this cavalry force of under four hundred.
On the continent of Westeros, these three hundred and fifty troops were a mobile strike force that no one could afford to take lightly.
Unless pitted against elite infantry, Shen Mo could guarantee these men would easily rout at least ten thousand rabble foot soldiers.
Shen Mo mounted his horse, which snorted loudly beneath him.
Ku Xi had already set off with the Onyx Crowmen; mounted and gathered here were only Xin Qi and Zhao Qi.
“Sister Zhao, I’ll be troubling you this time.” “It is no trouble.
Though the Winds of Magic are meager here, weaving a few spells is simple enough.” Zhao Qi smiled and nodded softly, her bright eyes and graceful poise a breathtaking sight.
Shen Mo spoke no further, riding past the gathered troops accompanied by Miao Yi at his side.
The torchlight painted everyone’s faces red, and the deadly aura in the air made one involuntarily slow their breathing.
“Move out!” Shen Mo lowered his visor, and the men pulled down their raised gorgets.
Shen Mo spurred ahead at the lead, and the knights behind him lashed their mounts into motion.
The city gates swung open, and the company vanished into the receding darkness like a surging metallic deluge.
…
The snow-covered forest stood silent in the icy wind, frost clinging to the branches, every step on the soft snow crunching softly.
Guan Zimo reined in her mount, her silver armor glistening cold under the grayish-white sky.
She looked back: wights spilled like a black tide from the crumbled ruins, their dense, rotting forms dragging dark trails across the snow.
Her heart sank.
Her fingers subconsciously rubbed the hilt of her weapon, unable to quell the anxiety surging in her chest.
The cartographer was still in their ranks.
If he fell, the eastern route map they had surveyed would vanish like smoke.
Relying on the speed and stamina of their longma mounts, running away wouldn’t be difficult, but they couldn’t completely shake these relentless wights.
Guan Zimo dared not gamble on whether Shen Mo’s forces back at camp could withstand an assault from this horde if they led them straight back.
In the blink of an eye, the young female general made her decision.
“You two, take the cartographer and the others and keep running!” Her voice was firm, yet her throat tightened the moment she shouted it.
Two Jingsai guards immediately closed ranks, shielding the mapmaker between them.
Will, Logan, and the two Wildlings followed closely on horseback.
Guan Zimo caught sight of the cartographer hunched over his saddle, clutching his wooden chest for dear life.
“That map is our lifeline!
Do not lose it!” she yelled.
Scanning the party to confirm all was in order, she kicked her horse’s flanks hard and wheeled around to charge headlong into the wights.
The three-pointed double-edged blade moved like an extension of her arms.
She thrust forward, splitting a wight’s shoulder; bone and icy frost splattered against her silver armor, bone-chillingly cold.
Beside her, the Jingsai guards first pulled out the bows and arrows captured from the Night’s Watch rangers.
Drawing arrows from quivers at their sides, they notched and released.
An arrow thumped squarely into the forehead of a wight, its shaft vibrating with a hum.
Yet it could not truly slay these undead, doing little more than temporarily knocking them off their feet.
Seeing that arrows were ineffective, the Jingsai guards trailing Guan Zimo drew their horse-breaker spears and charged alongside her.
Sweeping her weapon again, Guan Zimo battered back several leaping wights, her blade whistling fiercely through the cold air.
Guan Zimo never fought on brute force alone.
Charging directly into a dense crowd of wights was suicide; after a few dozen meters, her men would inevitably get bogged down.
Cavalry that lost momentum were nothing more than mounted infantry.
No matter how formidable the Jingsai guards were, their stamina would eventually wane.
Against mortal men, terrified peasants would have fled long ago, but these wights knew no fear.
They would keep attacking until smashed into pieces, unable to rise again.
Thus, Guan Zimo led her guards in drawing the horde’s focus, swooping close to hack down a cluster before galloping away again to maintain distance.
The exceptional stamina of their longma mounts allowed them to buy ample time for the cartographer and the captives.
As for what came next?
Guan Zimo looked up at the slowly brightening sky, thinking to herself, *Only Heaven knows.*