Payam, standing before his doomed soldiers, had given his final command. The Razaasia center column, now depleted by the flanking attack and the forces sent to aid Koorush, formed a dense, pathetic crescent of men. They were not fighting for victory; they were simply forming a wall of bodies, a futile, sacrificial hedge to buy time for the retreat of their general. The air before them tasted of ash and dread.
From across the dusty field, the combined force advanced: the Scorpion Formation. Its silence was more terrifying than any war cry, a single, unified juggernaut moving with lethal intent.
The Ginmiao forces, led by Xue and Konn, formed the rigid, protective tail, their formation tight and disciplined. The Musian cavalry, led by Hibo, formed the massive, thundering body. The Salran Hill Bandits, led by Azad, were the deadly, multi-pronged legs and venomous head. They were a kaleidoscope of fear and power, an army of three nations driven by one ruthless general.
Chinua, riding at the spearhead of the formation next to Azad, held her spear tightly in her hand.
The collision was instantaneous, a soundless crumple followed by a cacophony of breaking wood and ripping flesh.
The Salran Bandit lines struck first, not as a single fist, but as two sets of penetrating fingers. Their spears ripped through the thin Razaasia line, immediately creating fissures that oozed blood and panic. Azad and Chinua's wedge hit the center. They did not stop to fight; they carved a high-speed, bloody path directly through the Razaasia ranks, their horses' hooves turning the ground into a churned, reddish slurry.
The penetration was so swift and unexpected that the Razaasia soldiers, fighting only for their last breath, never had time to react to the true threat: Hibo and the Musians.
As the Bandit "legs" spun out to widen the breach, the Musian body surged into the now-exposed flanks of the Razaasia. Hibo's warriors, already inflamed by the battle, met virtually no organized resistance. The Musians carved the Razaasia column into three separate, bleeding pieces. The war-tigers, circling back from the camp massacre, closed the gaps, their weight and claws ensuring that any soldier attempting to flee or regroup was dragged down and devoured.
Payam fought with the doomed zeal of a madman, knowing every sword thrust was merely a life prolonged for Koorush. He met the initial impact head-on, his sword flashing, but the sheer, unstoppable momentum of the combined cavalry overwhelmed his small command. He saw Chinua and Azad ride past him, recognizing his sacrifice in their eyes, but they never slowed down for such a small, dying fish.
Within minutes, the disciplined Razaasia center column ceased to exist. Payam, wounded, his armor cracked, saw his last order fulfilled: the red smoke was still climbing high. He was the last man standing in his square, his horse dead beside him.
Payam looked up just as a spear pointed at his throat. His eyes, fixed on the distant red columns that symbolized his final loyalty, and with a chuckle escaping his lips, he looked at the owner of the spear.
He saw Chinua looking down at him, her eyes fiercer than any man he had ever met. He continued chuckling, and after a few moments, he sighed. "Defeated by you and died at the tip of your spear is not such a bad bargain," Payam said with a defeated smile.
Chinua watched Payam, who was severely bleeding but still sitting on the ground, defiant to the end. Her voice was firm, yet carried the cold weight of absolute authority. "I told you before of my clear and unmistakable message: if you continue to do what you do, we will come after you and hunt you down with ultimate force. We will find you in your own bases, wherever you may be—in the land of our allies or behind the safety of your own city walls. Your days will be numbered once you come face to face with us."
Payam smiled, a terrible, bloodied gesture. "I heard your warning, but I am not scared of your threat." He looked up at Chinua, still smiling. "Chinua, Hmagol Eastern General, I will be waiting for you at the ferry of the Seven Rivers."
Chinua, her spear still pointed at Payam's throat, reached into her robe and tossed a silver coin at him. It landed in the dirt near his hand. "Since I will be the one sending you down to meet Or'en, I'll pay your ferry fare."
Payam reached for the silver coin with a smile and said, "Sound fair." His gaze, however, was not on Chinua. It was fixed on the distant plumes of red smoke—the towering, crimson sign of his loyalty and the confirmation of his general's escape.
Chinua's response was swift and absolute. She didn't hesitate, she didn't show anger, only the impersonal finality of a butcher. Her spear, a dark, heavy weapon, arced in a short, efficient movement, cutting across Payam's exposed throat. The blade, already wet with the blood of many men, did its work cleanly.
The sound of the severance was drowned out by the continued distant noise of the rout. Payam's head snapped back, the smile vanishing as his entire body went slack. A torrent of dark, arterial blood erupted, jetting outward before splashing onto the coin and instantly dissolving the dirt around his hand. He slumped entirely, collapsing into the filth, his eyes still open and staring at the red signals, now forever extinguished. The silver coin, the ferry fare, was clung tightly in his left hand, swallowed by the spreading crimson pool.
Chinua did not look at the body of Payam. She wrenched her spear free, the action swift and unceremonious, and walked back to the middle of the battle where the rest of the combined army were finishing up the remaining wounded Razaasia soldiers—a grim act of mercy to end their long suffering before death.
A shout cut through the noise of the mop-up. "General Xue! General Xue!"
It was Long, who had ridden down the ramparts with desperate speed. He halted his horse violently next to Xue.
"Aren't you supposed to be guarding Hye in the city?" Konn asked, surprised to see the captain here, abandoning his critical post.
"I was, but Hye told me that we must take down those towers immediately. He said it might be some kind of signal for nearby enemy soldiers."
General Xue slapped his own forehead in sudden self-reproach. "Oh, this old fool was so focused on the battle itself that I completely forgot about that!" He recognized the strategic threat immediately. "Konn, you take three hundred soldiers with you and make sure those sixteen towers are taken down. Immediately."
"Yes, General," Konn said, quickly gathering a small, fast group of riders and rushing toward the cluster of red-smoking towers in the middle of the devastated Razaasia camp.
Xue turned back to Long and issued his next command, a sober understanding of the likely cost. "Captain, you take two hundred soldiers with you to go aid General Chong."
Long nodded grimly. As he quickly gathered his two hundred men and rushed toward the last known location of Chong and Xao, he knew in his heart it would be a miracle if he found anyone still alive. Before he had left the city wall, he had seen Chong and his men completely surrounded by the Razaasia cavalry. Although he was prepared for not finding any of his fellow brothers alive, he still held a small, defiant hope that some would have pulled through.
He rode his horse steadily through the battlefield, the animal's hooves occasionally stumbling as they stepped over the dead soldiers. The air was thick with the scent of copper and churned earth. In the distance, he saw ten figures, badly wounded, slowly walking toward him.
He immediately drew his sword, fearing they might be desperate, retreating enemy soldiers. But as the ten figures staggered closer, his heart leaped into his throat. It was none other than Chong, Xao, and eight of the three hundred volunteer soldiers, the only survivors of the desperate charge.
He spurred his horse forward and dismounted immediately, running to meet them.
"General!" he choked out, happy tears mixing with the dust on his face. "I can't believe it."
He looked past the wounded men at the carnage around them—the horrific tally of the three hundred who had bought time for Chinua's attack. Guilt suddenly rushed to his heart; they were once three hundred strong, and now only eleven remained.
Chong's bloody hand reached out and touched Long's left shoulder, a gesture of profound exhaustion and relief. He spoke, his voice raspy but imbued with a deep satisfaction. "Captain, we can finally go home."
Konn spurred his horse hard, leading his three hundred soldiers across the battlefield. The ground was treacherous, littered with fallen men and equipment, but Konn pushed through the chaos, following the trail of the sixteen plumes of red smoke. The closer he got, the more colossal the towers seemed—simple wooden structures, hastily erected, but carrying a terrifying, invisible message far into the world.
"We must destroy them at the base!" Konn yelled to his soldiers. "Burn them, hack them down—just make the smoke stop!"
They reached the perimeter of the former Razaasia camp, now a ghost town littered with dead war-tigers and abandoned supplies. The air here was thick and acrid with the smell of the burning signal powder. The riders fanned out immediately, splitting into groups to attack the nearest towers.
Konn rode to the tallest one, grabbing an axe from a nearby soldier. The base of the tower was wrapped in oil-soaked cloths. He slammed the axe into the wood, splintering the frame, his heart pounding with the realization of the massive threat they were neutralizing. Every second the smoke rose, the people in Zoaging were in danger.
His soldiers worked with frantic urgency, spurred by the chilling message from Hye. They used their torches, axes, and even their swords to bring the flimsy structures down. With sickening crunches, the first few towers collapsed, sending up final, blinding puffs of crimson dust before the signaling fire was extinguished by the falling debris.
Within a frenzied few minutes, the camp, which had been a beacon of disaster, went silent. Konn, covered in soot and sweat, looked up at the sky. Where sixteen pillars of brilliant red had defied the sun, there was now only the clear, empty blue.
Konn remounted his horse, his mission accomplished, but a profound unease settled over him. What had The Razaasia just told his distant allies? And who were those allies? And will Zoaging City be safe for now?
When Konn rode back to the middle of the battlefield, the fight was over. All remaining Razaasia soldiers were dead, and the last mopping-up was complete. He found Chinua talking with Hibo, Azad, and Xue at the center of the devastation.
"Although our city doesn't have many good places to host you all, there is still enough room," Xue said, giving a heartfelt gesture of gratitude to the allies.
Chinua looked toward the enemy camp. "General, there are plenty of supplies and tents for us here, so don't worry about it. Instead, your Ginmiao soldiers should come out and bring back some of their supplies to the city for the people."
Hibo added, "We still have our own supplies that will be enough for us."
Xue turned his full attention to Chinua, looking her up and down, still processing the day's events. "Soldier, Hye said that these friends here, they didn't come for Zoaging City, but they came for you. Since we have signed a peace treaty together, at least let me know your name."
"Chinua," Chinua said simply.
Xue was visibly taken aback. He had thought the person standing before him was merely an ordinary soldier, but he was stunned to learn that the general who took down Nue-Li City was actually here, helping him.
"The words of a thousand men are not as accurate or powerful as seeing it with your own eyes," Xue admitted, a newfound respect heavy in his tone. He then remembered the urgent warning. "I forgot, Hye said that those red smokes are signals for nearby enemies. I have ordered my son, Konn, to take them down."
Chinua, having already predicted this, looked toward the distant, receding plumes of red smoke. Her voice was flat, devoid of relief. "If that is true, the signal has already been seen by enemy soldiers. Therefore, taking it down now makes no difference."
Her eyes hardened. "Payam's last words were a declaration, not a threat. He secured Koorush's retreat and sent his message. The real battle is not over; it has merely shifted."