General Changning — Chapter 1
The wild plains lay vast and yellowed with autumn grass; beneath the frosty sky, a lone goose flew.
Jiang Hanyuan stood atop a ridge, gazing toward a village at the northern foot of the slope. The fires there had already died out, but the houses reduced to ashes were nothing but broken walls and scattered ruins. From the deep wilderness to the north, the wind howled, sweeping over the village and reaching the ridge, carrying with it a chorus of sobs—rising and falling, ragged and mournful.
That place had been raided at dawn by the Northern Di horsemen. A band of nearly a hundred riders had slipped past the heavily guarded frontier in the dead of night, crossing a routine watch post dozens of miles away.
The officer in charge of that post had been living with a widow in the village and had a newborn daughter that year. Last night, he secretly left his station to visit them. Only two men remained at the beacon tower. Having grown complacent after months of quiet, they too neglected their duty, drinking instead of keeping watch. By the time they realized the danger, it was already too late.
Under the cover of darkness, the raiders stormed in and reached the village by dawn. Such Northern Di cavalry were accustomed to striking opportunistically—loot what they could, and burn what they could not carry. In less than half an hour, most of the houses were ablaze, property plundered, more than a dozen women abducted, and a handful of men who fled too slowly trampled to death beneath iron hooves.
It was then that Jiang Hanyuan happened upon the scene. She had set out on this journey to Yunluo City to pay respects to her kin. To arrive sooner, she had camped under the open sky and resumed her ride before dawn. At daybreak, passing this place, she saw smoke billowing high into the heavens. Though the smoke differed from the beacon fires she knew, instinct compelled her to halt and investigate.
Upon seeing the devastation, she immediately dispatched messengers to summon the local garrison under Li He, ordering them to rush to the villagers’ aid. Without pausing further, she led her twenty-four riders in pursuit, following the tracks the raiders left as they fled north. By midday, the Northern Di horsemen, believing themselves safe, had grown lax.
For years, the Wei frontier army had treated such scattered raids lightly. Once the enemy escaped with their spoils, pursuit was rarely pressed—too costly, too uncertain. This emboldened the Northern Di to cross the border repeatedly with impunity.
Even if Wei troops did give chase, they could never arrive so swiftly. After a night of hard riding, the raiders were weary and hungry. They dismounted, loosened their weapons, and, in their arrogance, began to abuse the captured women for sport.
At that very moment, Jiang Hanyuan’s force descended like divine soldiers from the heavens. With lightning speed, she loosed an arrow that struck down their leader, then spurred her horse forward, her riders forming ranks and charging in all directions. The Di were caught utterly unprepared. Chaos erupted—men and horses toppled, panic spread, casualties mounted. Unsure how many reinforcements might follow, the raiders quickly abandoned resistance and fled in terror.
A burly, bearded officer hurried up the slope and reported: “All the stolen goods have been returned, and the women sent back to their families. Li He is overseeing the aftermath. The villagers are deeply grateful—they wished to thank you in person, but I declined on your behalf.”
This officer was Fan Jing, Jiang Hanyuan’s trusted lieutenant.
“How are Qilang and the others faring?” Jiang Hanyuan asked.
Though the pursuit had been a resounding victory—rescuing the abducted women and cutting down more than half the arrogant raiders—her men had not escaped unscathed. Seven or eight were wounded.
“No grave injuries,” Fan Jing replied. “All have been treated. But…” He hesitated. “The beacon officer did not survive. His wife has come, carrying their child.”
The officer had known his guilt and, seeking redemption, insisted on joining the fight. He was the most gravely wounded.
“Also, the two negligent sentries have been bound for your judgment. Li He himself begs punishment.”
Below the slope, a woman knelt beside the corpse, weeping bitterly. Her infant daughter, not yet a year old, crawled nearby, babbling innocently, unaware of the tragedy.
Among Jiang’s men, a young soldier with a round, boyish face—his wounds freshly bandaged—burst out angrily: “…The Grand General only ever orders us to defend! Defend! Like turtles cowering behind the walls! It’s disgraceful! Vast lands—Shuo, Heng, Yan—all seized by the Northern barbarians! And worst of all, they cross our borders to slaughter our people and steal our women! When will we march out to fight a true battle, to drive them back where they belong? Even if it means death, it would be worth it!”
His comrades shared his fury, but at the mention of the Grand General, they dared not echo him aloud.
The newly arrived local commander, Li He, recognized these fierce young men as soldiers of Jiang Hanyuan’s elite Qingmu Battalion. Especially the outspoken youth—Yang Hu, courtesy name Xiuming, childhood name Qilang. Skilled in riding and archery, master of the halberd, and famed for his reckless courage. In one battle, he had charged repeatedly into enemy ranks, cutting down more than twenty heads. His ferocity earned him the nickname “Desperate Qilang.”
Though his family had declined from noble standing, his grandfather once held the rank of Duke. Even now, a fallen camel is larger than a horse. Yet because of his involvement in the beacon officer’s negligence, he had no right to speak here and so fell silent.
“Silence!” Fan Jing barked.
Yang Hu turned, saw his bearded superior standing beside the general, and grudgingly held his tongue.
Li He fell to his knees, trembling, confessing his failure and begging punishment.
The widow prostrated herself before Jiang Hanyuan, sobbing: “It is my fault! Mine alone! He hadn’t returned for months—I begged him to come back just once to see his daughter. I caused his death… I killed him…”
Her cries were filled with despair and remorse, echoing across the darkening plain.
The setting sun wavered, sinking into the wild plains. Darkness spread all around, and the wind suddenly rose, whipping at Jiang Hanyuan’s bloodstained robes, making the hem flutter violently.
The infant, drawn by the movement, thought it a game. She crawled toward the General, reached out, and clutched at her robe, shaking her little arm with a gurgling laugh.
The mother, startled, lifted her head. She saw the female General’s face still streaked with blood, her eyes fixed upon the child, her expression shadowed and grim.
Suddenly, the woman remembered the rumors: this General was known as the “She‑Demon.” The blade at her waist had drunk countless lives. Some even whispered that she had been raised by wolves, a wolf‑child who, under the full moon, must taste blood or else transform into a beast with fangs and claws.
Such tales the woman believed without doubt. Otherwise, how could a woman fight like a man upon the battlefield, leaving countless enemies to die beneath her blade?
Terrified, she dared not weep further. Crawling on hands and knees, she tried to reach her daughter, but Jiang Hanyuan had already bent down.
Under the mother’s horrified gaze, the General slowly took hold of the baby’s tiny hand clutching her robe. That hand, hardened with calluses from the sword, was rough and coarse.
Perhaps the child felt pain—she suddenly wailed aloud.
The mother trembled, too afraid to snatch her back, bowing her head repeatedly, begging for mercy.
Jiang Hanyuan paused, then released the infant and turned away.
“The beacon officer fought bravely to atone, but his crime cannot be absolved by death. The two negligent sentries—execute them at once under military law. Draft the order and announce it to the army as a warning. As for Li He’s failure, that is not mine to judge—let him plead his case before the Grand General.” She took the reins handed to her, turned to Fan Jing at her side. “Uncle Fan, I must trouble you to stay behind. Oversee the aftermath, and re‑inspect every stretch of this border line. Leave no gaps.”
“Understood, General. You may rest assured.”
“And one more thing—” She glanced toward the woman still kneeling with her child in her arms. “Give her and her daughter double compensation, taken from my own pay.” Her voice was low.
Fan Jing started, looked back, then nodded.
“Those wounded today, return to camp on your own. The rest, follow me!” She mounted her horse, gathered the reins in one hand, and rode off.
Yang Hu, anxious, leapt forward to block her path, waving his bandaged arm. “General, I’m fine! Just a scratch! Let me ride with you!”
“Go back!” Jiang Hanyuan’s voice was low and stern. She spurred her horse around him and was gone.
The uninjured riders laughed, gestured at him, and with a shout, mounted and galloped after her. Soon, only Yang Hu and the wounded remained, frustrated and bitter.
Yang Hu glared at the vanishing figure, his anger rising. He shouted after a comrade already riding ahead: “Zhang Monkey, you bastard! If I hadn’t saved you, taken that blade for you, you’d be a corpse by now! And now you ride off with the General, leaving me behind! Just wait—I’ll settle this when we’re back!”
The one called Zhang Monkey didn’t even turn his head, only urged his horse faster until he disappeared.
The others left behind struggled not to laugh, their faces tight with suppressed mirth.
“Enough! Follow the General’s orders—rest tonight, return tomorrow morning.”
Fan Jing, though weary of this hot‑headed youth whom the General herself had favored, kept his stern, bearded face impassive as he repeated Jiang Hanyuan’s command.
Yang Hu could only relent, sulking as he glanced back toward the road. Just then, a messenger on a galloping horse appeared from afar.
“Is General Changning here? The Grand General has issued urgent orders—General Changning must return to camp at once!”
Standing tall in his stirrups, the courier shouted against the wind.
The message bore the command of Grand General Jiang Zuwang.
Jiang Hanyuan had no choice but to halt her journey and turn back toward her father’s great camp near the western pass of Yanmen. Several days later, she arrived in the dead of night.