Xia Feng’s words flushed Yaoji’s cheeks, a flicker of hope glinting in her eyes. Axel avoided her gaze, sighing faintly. “I’m not you, so I can only envy your wild, fearless spirit—I can’t emute it.”

  Xia Feng shrugged regretfully, intending to drop it. But boredom spurred him on. “In a lifetime, few people are worth loving. Miss them, and they’re gone forever. Don’t wait till it’s too te to confess in agony: ‘Once, a true love stood before me, and I didn’t cherish it. If the heavens gave me another chance, I’d tell that girl: I love you! With a time limit—I’d hope for ten thousand years!’”

  All three jolted. Tears welled in Yaoji’s eyes, mourning her fate; Axel’s face shifted between storm and calm, his pain evident—he couldn’t muster the resolve.

  Only Ji Xuanxuan eyed Xia Feng oddly, murmuring after a pause, “You’re pretty ugly, but damn, you’re a genius poet—any random line moves people for ages.”

  “Ugly? Really ugly?” Xia Feng nearly choked, indignation fring. With his parents’ best traits—Eastern smooth skin, Western chiseled features, sans scruffy beard—he’d rivaled icons like Andy Lau or Tom Cruise. Being called ugly was a first.

  “Yeah—ask Sister Yaoji if you don’t believe me,” Ji Xuanxuan said, surprised by his reaction, tugging another woman into it. Yaoji, ever the dy, spoke tactfully, smiling wistfully. “With white skin, you’d be a rare Great Western beauty. But you’re yellow-skinned. Pure bloodlines define beauty here—mixed-blood bastards from cross-race unions are the lowliest, ugliest in every tribe. Not that I doubt you’ve Great Western blood—maybe your parents were just that unattractive.”

  Xia Feng gaped, speechless. First time he’d learned he was a freak in their eyes—no wonder, aside from scheming Ji Xuanxuan, no girl here had batted an eye at him.

  Seeing his stunned look, Axel patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t take it hard. A man’s worth isn’t his face. With your talent and skill, Brother Xia, you’ll find a fine girl.”

  Xia Feng managed a wry smile. His easygoing, upbeat nature shook off the gloom fast. Living as an ugly duckling’s a rare experience, he mused, then belted out jauntily, “I’m ugly, but I’m gentle—cold outside, fiery inside—that’s me…”

  Their chatter sped time along. As darkness fully cloaked the sky, Axel rallied them. “Let’s move. From the Gray Wolves’ ambush in Ghost Wail Forest, Commander Yang can hold them off three days tops. We’ve got that window to escape these barren mountains. Once we hit busy highways and markets, the Gray Wolves won’t easily spot us in a crowd.”

  A chilly night breeze blew under a hazy sky as the four resumed their trek.

  Barely out of the cave, Xia Feng caught a faint, ethereal jingle—like lonely camel bells in a desert. He thought he’d misheard, but Axel’s startled look confirmed it.

  They exchanged gnces, silently asking: Camel bells in these wild mountains?

  The sound faded into the night wind, silence returning. Noticing the girls hadn’t heard, Xia Feng shook his head slightly at Axel, who nodded, keeping it quiet to spare Ji Xuanxuan and Yaoji needless curiosity or worry.

  They set out under a bright moon lighting the earth like day, easing the night march.

  After Ghost Wail Forest’s ambush, few horses remained in the Artillery Corps. To avoid tipping off the Winged Folk, Axel reserved the sole mount for frail Yaoji. Ji Xuanxuan, trained in martial arts since childhood, handled the trek with ease.

  Skirting the corps’ main road, they took a side trail. Not far in, Axel’s nostrils fred, his expression hardening.

  Xia Feng’s zy demeanor vanished—he smelled it too: a faint tang of blood wafting through the night, growing thicker with each step.

  Even the battle-hardened horse grew restless, pawing the ground, reluctant to advance.

  Axel signaled a halt, whispering, “My battlefield gut says this blood’s close. I’ll scout ahead quietly. If anything’s off, don’t follow. Brother Xia, they’re in your hands.” Ignoring protests, he slipped into the darkness.

  The three waited anxiously for a meal’s time until Axel’s shaky voice called, “Come over!”

  Relieved to hear him, yet troubled by his fear—a first for this seasoned leader—they wondered what could unnerve him.

  Xia Feng led the horse along the trail, rounding a gully to a ghastly sight.

  Under the moon’s glow, countless mangled corpses littered the path like fresh pork sbs in rags, blood still oozing, soaking the grass. Guts sprawled everywhere, reeking of rot.

  Xia Feng gagged, cmping his nose. Ji Xuanxuan and Yaoji retched violently.

  “Gray Wolves’ men!” Axel, pale, joined Xia Feng. “About twelve or thirteen—top hands, judging by their gear. Looks like they were left to ambush us here, but something sughtered them all, gruesomely—no intact bodies.”

  “A beast, maybe?”

  “No beast,” Axel shook his head firmly. “Their spot’s not far from our cave—we’d have heard screams, but there was nothing. They died without a sound. No beast’s that ruthless. And though they’re torn up, there’s no bite marks.”

  “We did hear something,” Xia Feng mused, peering into the night.

  “Camel bells!” Axel’s face twisted in horror.

  Trembling, the four navigated this hellish stretch, pressing on. The main road was blocked by Gray Wolves, retreat wasn’t an option—only this path remained, heedless of what monstrous terror y ahead.

  They trudged half the night, hearts in throats, but met no mishaps. As dawn’s first light bled across the horizon, relief crept in—daybreak’s promise often banishes fear.

  “Who’s there?” A sharp shout jolted them at a gully’s turn. Two rge tents stood ahead, embers smoldering before them. Two sentries guarded the site—one had barked the challenge.

  Not monsters or Gray Wolves, they seemed—easing the group’s nerves.

  Unsure of their identity, Axel held back his own. Dressed as commoners, with the girls’ faces dirt-smudged to hide their rare beauty, he pyed the part, bowing to the sentries. “Sirs, we’re folk heading to Changyi City in Dayao Mountains to join kin. Fearing bandits, we traveled overnight. Meeting officials here’s a blessing—can we tag along for safety?”

  The sentries eyed them suspiciously. One snapped, “Names? Proof you’re Changyi-bound?”

  “Ha, how do you prove that, sirs?” Axel chuckled. “But we’ll give our names.” He rattled off four fake ones. The distracted sentries, impatient, clearly didn’t commit the bnd aliases to memory.

  “Who’s making noise out there?” A zy voice drifted from a tent, roused by the exchange. A sentry reported, “Lady Yan, just some Changyi-bound folk wanting to join us.”

  “Oh, let them. Bandits roam here—better we stick together.”

  At her word, a sentry barked at Axel, “Follow behind, but not too close. Disturb our dy, and you’ll regret it.”

  “Yes, sir!” Axel agreed eagerly. Traveling with them, even by day, would mask them from Gray Wolves—why not?

  Exhausted from the night’s march, the four found a sheltered hollow to rest and eat. As the sun cleared the peaks, the soldiers broke camp. Axel trailed them, counting roughly thirty men.

  Their uniforms marked them as troops of Southern King Yan Gonghai.