“The Eternal Heaven shall protect Northern Di! We will be ever-victorious and crush the Ning capital!”
The Northern Di soldiers beat their armored chests with their fists, letting out high-pitched cheers.
“The witch doctor said the Eternal Heaven has spoken—this Ning hostage is a perfect sacrifice! Men, tie him to the wooden frame and put him with the livestock.”
Mu Jue’s hands were forced behind his back and tied to a wooden frame.
A witch doctor brought a tray of paints and began drawing lines on his face, as if writing a funeral oration for the Eternal Heaven.
The paint felt cold against his skin. He closed his eyes.
His body had no support; he had to stand on his own legs. But after less than an hour, he felt he could not hold on much longer.
The young man’s trembling grew more violent—half from the cold, half from the ache in his legs. His limbs felt like soft pieces of cloth, completely unable to support his weight.
He could only watch as his knees gave way and he slid down, relying on the ropes tied tightly around his wrists to keep him from falling completely to the ground.
The sun rose to its peak. The sunlight here was even more blinding.
In his daze, he was forced to drink a few sips of water. He forced his eyes open.
It seemed to be noon.
His hands were chafed and bloody from the rough hemp rope.
But he couldn’t feel that small bit of pain. It felt as if his internal organs were being hollowed out. Even taking a single breath required a long pause. Most of the water given to him spilled out, flowing down his thin jawline, over his neck, and soaking into his collar.
The Northern Di soldiers seemed to be losing their patience, too. They didn’t care if a Ning prince was sacrificed, but they needed the silver and cloth Ning had promised.
Mu Jue was taken down from the frame. He collapsed against it, sitting on the ground as paper and a brush were placed before him.
“Write a letter to your Ning Emperor, and another to the general at your border. Tell them to send the envoys immediately with the silver and silk, or else…”
Mu Jue instinctively grabbed the brush like a child. Even his grip was wrong.
A Northern Di soldier kicked him. “Hurry up! What are you waiting for? Do you want to die?”
Ask me to write to the Emperor?
The Northern Di people still didn’t understand Da Ning well enough.
A hostage sent away was nothing. If the Emperor cared about him, he wouldn’t have been the one sent as a hostage.
And as for the border general, he didn’t even know the man’s name.
Besides… he could already sense his remaining time.
Whether he was sacrificed to the Eternal Heaven or died of illness, it made no difference to him.
Seeing him hesitate, a soldier snorted. “Tough bone, aren’t you? How about this—write the letters, and I’ll give you a few sips of mutton soup later.”
Mu Jue looked up. “Will my letters definitely be delivered?”
“Of course. Do they dare ignore a message sent by Northern Di?”
Mu Jue didn’t really want mutton soup. He would only vomit more if he drank something so greasy.
He also didn’t want to beg the Emperor or anyone in Da Ning with tears and snot.
Sending silver and silk to Northern Di meant the Emperor and Crown Prince could enjoy themselves while the border soldiers and commoners suffered.
He didn’t want to see that at all.
He dipped the brush in ink and began to write seriously, stroke by stroke.
The letter began: “To the corrupt eunuch, Dog Lu.” The middle was filled with beautifully phrased insults, and the end wished for him to be torn apart by five horses.
After finishing one, he felt a sense of relief and asked for another sheet of paper.
He proceeded to scold the Emperor, the Crown Prince, and the Ninth Prince one by one.
The Northern Di people could read his writing, but they were confused. They didn’t expect Mu Jue to skip the pleading for money and instead write all this nonsense.
Mu Jue already had an excuse ready: “This is a secret code used only by the Ning royal family. They will understand it. Just send it.”
The Northern Di were suspicious, but the handwriting was definitely Mu Jue’s, and they were the winners of the war.
Besides, Mu Jue had been locked in a tent. Even if he wanted to send a message to Ning, he knew nothing that could threaten them.
His life was in their hands; what could a few letters do?
A Northern Di soldier mounted a fast horse and headed toward the border with the letters.
“Chief, a Northern Di envoy just came. He delivered several letters, saying the Sixth Prince wrote them.”
In the main camp of the Da Ning army, Cao Yi strode in and placed several sheets of paper on the desk.
The Chief of the Eastern Depot, who was supposed to be in the capital, was instead wearing a large black cloak, sitting behind the commander’s desk.
Lu Shiting opened a letter. The Sixth Prince’s handwriting was easy to recognize—he hadn’t learned any fancy styles, and his script was as innocent as an eight-year-old beginner.
“The Northern Di envoy said that if our peace negotiators don’t arrive soon, they will kill the Sixth Prince and restart the war. He said these letters are the Prince begging us to send the money and silk quickly…”
“Begging us to send money and silk quickly?”
Lu Shiting narrowed his eyes and read the opening of the letter word by word: “To the corrupt eunuch, Dog Lu.”
Cao Yi’s eyes widened. “W-what?”
He could not reconcile the Sixth Prince’s face with that opening.
“Is this really written by the Sixth Prince?” Cao Yi knelt, suddenly not knowing what to say.
“There is no need for that. He is not wrong in his cursing. He has never offended me, never fought for power, and never allowed subordinates to oppress the people. Yet, simply because he is the Emperor’s son, I want him dead. I am indeed a beast.”
Lu Shiting folded the letter and picked up the other two.
“He scolded the Emperor and the Crown Prince as well. If he weren’t a prince, he would be well-suited for the Censorate. He writes better insults than most of the officials there.”
Cao Yi lowered his head, not daring to reply, and waited until the Chief finished reading.
“Chief… then, do we still send the envoys?”