As dusk fell, the valley lay shrouded in smoke, remnants of the day's battle still rising from the scorched ground. General Tu Lu summoned the Shadow Blade Squad to the edge of camp. He pointed toward the jagged silhouette of the Western Ridge, his expression grim.
"A force of five hundred is moving from Raymond's western camp. Five supply carts and a hundred cavalry accompany them. They will reach the front in two days."
He glanced across the snowy plains.
"The main army must reorganize our wounded. We resume combat in three days. If this reinforcement gets through, the enemy will still have the strength to counterattack."
Tu Lu fixed his eyes on Li Song. "You must intercept them on the Western Ridge. Leave now."
Li Song bowed. "Understood."
The night was black as ink, the wind and snow sweeping through the ridges like a brushstroke of silence. From the rear gate of camp, five shadowy figures slipped into the wilderness, following the old merchant trail that twisted toward the Western Ridge. The road was buried in snow. Trees leaned over the path like sentinels, their branches creaking under frost.
Bai tightened her cloak and whispered, "The enemy's camp is three li ahead in Stone Valley—forested on all sides, by the river."
"We'll take the water," Li Song said. He turned to each member. "Xie Hong, feint from the south and lure their scouts. Mu Rong and Rocky—take the high slope and ambush. Bai and I will cross the river and ignite their supplies."
Xie Hong grinned. "I'll give them a reason to look away."
At midnight, the wind shifted north, the sky starless.
The reinforcements had camped among the boulders. Tents leaned against the cliffside, stakes driven around the perimeter. Firelight flickered at the center.
Draped in animal skins, Xie Hong staggered into the clearing, shouting, "We're overrun! I beg you, let me through—please!"
The enemy guards snapped to alert, bows drawn—until Mu Rong dropped from the canopy, her hook yanking one by the throat. Rocky's arrows flashed from the slope, striking two more in the snow.
In the chaos, Li Song and Bai waded across the freezing stream. The water cut through them like knives, but they moved silently. Behind the tall grass, they paused—then Li Song lit an oil packet and hurled it.
Flames erupted.
Bai was already climbing. Arrows hissed from her bow, igniting tents and splintering into command posts. Li Song charged, Dog Blade flashing in a cold arc. An officer reached for his shield—too late. The blade buried deep in his throat.
Soldiers scrambled awake. Xie Hong stormed the rear line, fists like mallets. Three fell in moments.
Rocky switched to daggers, dancing between tents with quick slashes. Two collapsed before they could shout.
Mu Rong circled the outskirts, tossing explosive charges that roared into flame. Panic swept the camp. Men fled into the dark, tripping over each other. The golden eagle banner toppled.
One rider fled toward the stream. Bai's arrow struck true—he fell without a word.
Within half an hour, the Shadow Blade had destroyed two grain sheds, one arrow cache, killed over forty, and beheaded a lieutenant. The rest scattered, dropping weapons and fleeing deep into the woods.
By midnight, the five returned through the snow, exhausted but alive.
Tu Lu and General Kelide stood waiting in the central tent. Li Song dropped to one knee, blood still frozen on his armor.
"Enemy reinforcements are broken. Supplies burned. They have no more than three days' food left."
Tu Lu nodded. "Good. Our main army moves south at dawn. We'll finish them in open field."
Kelide looked out toward the frost-brushed peaks. "Can we win?"
Tu Lu's expression was unreadable. He watched the final stars fade.
"We've already begun to."