The coalition forces marched across the grassy plains, flanked on both sides by cavalrymen. At the head of the column were the commanders and strategists, while the rear was brought up by a mixture of mounted archers and heavy infantry.
Historically, the plains had always favoured cavalry centric forces. The terrain was flat and held few hidden dangers, unlike the geographical challenges presented by a forest’s dense undergrowth or a mountainous region’s rocky ground and high altitude. As such, the unimpeded mobility of cavalry shone, especially in comparison to slower infantries.
However, after the Apocalypse, the Northern Plains south-east of what was formerly Cloud Connecting City had become as treacherous as a jungle. The originally flat plains and tall grasses concealed trenches and pits, as well as boggy marshes. If an invading army did not properly scout the way forward beforehand, it was likely for the battle to be over before it had even begun.
One could imagine the losses borne from charging heavily armoured shock cavalry directly into a body of water.
It was for this reason that the coalition adopted a conservative formation as they marched. While the terrain was unsteady and limiting, the openness provided a clear view of the path ahead and behind. Additionally, it provided an almost certain guarantee that they would not be flanked, since the only solid ground that could bear the weight of an army was the path upon which they stood.
However, their understanding of traditional warfare would soon be challenged thoroughly.
At first, everything was normal, with the sounds of squelching mud beneath boots, the clopping of hooves and the occasional conversation. But quickly, the coalition leaders realised that they had underestimated not only their enemy, but the effect that the Apocalypse had had on the local wildlife.
Cavalrymen riding strange, aquatic horses emerged from the marshland on either side of the column. They wielded a variety of different weapons; lances, swords and sabres, but the unifying feature was their strange mounts.
These horses had thick hides which were wet with both marsh water and mucous. Their manes were less hair-like and more closely resembled thick, leathery tendrils. Their hooves, originally adapted from a single toe, had split apart to reveal webs in between hard matter. Their legs also featured prominent fish-like fins and most shockingly, the horses had grown long, trunk-like tails with short sails lining above and below the centre.
The lead rider on the ambushing side raised his strange weapon. What seemed like a common gesture for signalling a charge eventually doubled as a devastating attack. A spark of light from the red ruby in the blade’s hilt was all that heralded the subsequent dense beam of red hot energy which cut through the swathes of screaming coalition ranks.
In that moment, it felt as if a god had descended, punishing all before its wrathful gaze. As the coalition’s men were torn limb from limb, a sense of panic and doom pervaded the column.
How were they to defend against such weaponry?
With swords and shields?
As the coalition riders accompanying the column peeled away or were dismounted, the infantry were unable to react in time, either partially due to fatigue, shock, or a combination of the two. The red beam sliced through even the most heavily armoured warrior, through even the thickest of shields. By the time it had eventually dissipated, a third of the column’s head had been annihilated.
The few who had been injured but survived the red laser groaned as they lay on the muddy ground.
“Quick, rescue the injured!” Came a shout from a white-bearded old man on horseback.
Unfortunately, before the coalition forces were able to retrieve the wounded, the charging monster cavalry descended upon them. Men were skewered by lances and lifted off their feet. Others were beheaded by slicing blades, or disembowelled by the sweeping of swords. The unfortunate few were trampled underfoot, limbs crushed by webbed hoof, or broken by the swaying of muscular tails.
Some of the coalition infantry had initially broken ranks to try and pull others to safety, at the command of the white-bearded man. They were among the first to fall amidst the roaring of the attackers and the confused shouts of the defenders.
The battle wasn’t entirely one sided, however. To the coalition’s credit, while the charged section did crumble like paper under hot water, the cavalrymen that had managed to peel away rallied and prepared to counter charge. The infantry groups unaffected by the flanking charge formed up as well, readying spear and shield and bracing for further impact. A display of drilled discipline.
The amphibious attackers had relied on surprise to launch their shock attack and becoming steeped in the enemy’s spears would only cause unnecessary casualties. In truth, they were heavily outnumbered by about 20:1 and a protracted battle would only worsen the odds. Uncertain that his men could match the enemy in close combat the leading rider, Ji Wuming, raised his sabre again and signalled a general retreat.
The horse he rode, which was conspicuously larger than any of the other monstrous steeds and had yellow webbing and fins, gave out a harrowing bark, signalling to the other mounts.
Heeding the leading horse’s call, the other monster horses carried their riders, pulling back into the swampland before the coalition cavalry could complete their counter charge. Due to the unique geography, the coalition was unable to give chase and was forced to send vengeful missile fire at the backs of their fleeing attackers.
The white-bearded man watched the ambushers flee with a heavy gaze. Turning to look at the coalition ranks that were reorganising hastily, he was unable to ignore the ever increasing pile of bodies by the side.
———
Cloud Connecting city, forward defence camp medical centre.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Ji Wuming lay reclined on his side against the bed, miao sabre by his side. A long arrow with a green and red feathered shaft was embedded in the back of his right calf. Ji Chen stood close by, alongside a few healers and other military officers.
“From an initial observation, it appears that the arrowhead is embedded deeply in the bone,” one of the healers remarked gravely.
Hearing this, a captain frowned and scrutinised the arrow, “General, I recognise this fletching. It belongs to the remnants of the Red Vipers tribe from the south.”
The room became quiet. Everyone present understood what the name entailed.
A healer shook his head regretfully, “Red Vipers like to use a variety of despicable strategies to weaken their enemies. The Red Viper venom alone is untreatable without the antivenom, not to mention the bone damage.”
“The antivenom is something we can only get from the Red Vipers themselves,” he added.
“Then what are we waiting for? The general is our greatest strength against the coalition - without him, how can we command the marsh horses, or any of the other mutant beasts?” Ji Chen looked around the room.
One of the healers was visibly confused.
“The marsh horses have their own riders, even without the general, why wouldn’t we be able to command them?”
The captain from before shook his head, “The marsh horses only listen to the general’s Yellow-Hoofed Thunder. Without it leading the charge, they become unruly and dangerous to their riders.”
The room fell into contemplative silence.
“Why not give Yellow-Hoofed Thunder to a different rider? Would that not solve the problem?” The healer suggested.
“It only listens to the general,” the captain responded curtly.
‘…’
“You’re all discounting me as if I’m already dead. Isn’t there another option besides the Red Viper antivenom?” Ji Wuming asked.
Nobody had anything to say until one of the healers raised her hand timidly, visibly lacking confidence.
“Speak,” Ji Wuming encouraged.
The healer seemed to squirm under the combined gazes of everyone present, but still managed to push her words out.
“A knee-down amputation could potentially work,” she croaked.
“Preposterous!” Ji Chen roared immediately, “amputation is no worse than death. You must be a traitor, for only somebody wishing to do us harm would suggest such a thing - guards, seize her!”
The atmosphere immediately became volatile. The other healers quickly backed away, afraid of getting involved, while the officers and captains drew their weapons. Before things could get worse, Ji Wuming interrupted the conflict.
“Where exactly do you suggest the amputation be?” He queried calmly.
The female healer, already kneeling with her arms behind her back, looked up in confusion, as did everybody else.
Ji Chen’s brows furrowed, “brother, you can’t be seriously considering this traitor’s words…”
Even the other healers were shocked.
“General, while amputation might save you, there’s still time for other options to be considered. Red Viper venom, while near-incurable, is slow-acting. We still have at least half a day’s worth of time before things become dire,” one cautioned.
“But the success rate will most definitely increase the sooner we take action,” another added helpfully.
Ji Wuming nodded, as if it were not his own leg he was considering removing. He turned his steely gaze to the kneeling woman and gestured for her to come over.
“Using this brush, mark where the amputation should be made. Be quick about it.”
“Y-yes, general.”
As it was the general’s command, the other officers dared not intervene. Only Ji Chen stepped forward and blocked the healer’s path.
“Brother, you have only one leg. Without it, you will be unable to walk, fight or ride,” he pleaded.
Ji Wuming met his junior’s gaze with an emotionless look.
“I have only one life. Would you prefer it if I died?”
Before Ji Chen could answer, Ji Wuming pulled the healer over, allowing her to mark his lower shin. The process was completed hastily and in complete silence. After a few moments of scrutiny, he nodded in satisfaction and raised his miao sabre. At the same time, he tore a scrap of cloth from his sleeve and bit down.
Ji Chen wanted to stop him, but it was too late. The entire tent lit up with bright crimson light and the smell of roasting meat wafted through the air. Ji Wuming remained soundless throughout the operation, the only signs of exertion being his throbbing veins and the droplets of sweat forming on his forehead.
After what felt like an eternity, the sabre dropped to the floor and Ji Wuming slumped back into the bed.
———
Uncle Hu, now an elderly man with greying hair, lay weakly in bed. He held a glass-textured, palm-sized black octagon above his face, staring at its centre intently.
A moment later, two people entered. One strode forward confidently while the other walked with a slight limp. Hu either didn’t notice or didn’t care, his gaze remaining fixated on the talisman.
“Uncle Hu,” Ji Chen greeted.
As time had passed, the valiant youth was no longer so young. His forehead already bore creases and wrinkles and an air of wisdom and courage surrounded him wherever he went. Shockingly, Ji Wuming had barely aged at all, now appearing to be at least a decade younger than Ji Chen.
However, while Ji Chen had sustained no significant injuries, Ji Wuming was missing everything below his right knee. In place of his amputated lower leg was a metal-cast prosthetic.
“You wanted to see us?” Wuming asked.
Hearing his voice, Uncle Hu turned slowly to scrutinise the two visitors briefly.
“I did,” he replied, “because I am dying.”
The two Jis stood silently, waiting for the old man to continue. Hu returned to looking at the talisman.
“Tell me, do you believe in the gods?” He asked casually.
Ji Chen snorted disdainfully upon hearing the question.
“I do not.”
His facial expression alone was sufficient enough to showcase his stance on such matters. Clearly, the past events of the Apocalypse still had some grasp over Ji Chen’s mind.
Ji Wuming, on the other hand, couldn’t help but take Hu’s words seriously. Though the old man was still looking devotedly at the black talisman, as if they were not present, he couldn’t help but feel as if there was a hidden meaning behind those words.
“Whether I believe in the gods or not… does it matter?” Wuming asked in a measured tone of voice.
Uncle Hu shook his head while chuckling under his breath, but broke out into a short coughing fit. It took him several moments to recover and the outbreak had caused him to sweat heavily.
“It does… and it doesn’t.”
The two Jis were puzzled, but Uncle Hu didn’t seem to have the intention of explaining further. Some more time passed and Ji Chen poured cups of tea for everyone.
Even merely sharing silence was enough, after all, much time had passed and they had become somewhat akin to a family. They had suffered many hardships and accomplished many feats to reach this point.
“Ji Chen, you may leave,” Hu said.
Ji Chen looked at Hu, then at Ji Wuming, before nodding and retreating quietly. Watching him leave, the latter turned back to look at the old Hu doubtfully.
“Was that necessary?” He frowned.
Hu nodded in nonverbal assent.
“He would not take my next words well. That is all. Now come and be seated.”
Ji Wuming obliged, limping to the bedside and resting his good leg. As he did so, Uncle Hu finally placed the obsidian talisman down, looking the younger man in the eyes.
“Everybody has their purpose. A destiny to fulfil.”
Wuming raised a sceptical eyebrow, “declared by the gods?”
Hu shrugged, smiling lightly.
“Perhaps.”
After a moment, Hu forcefully sat up. He used the last of his strength to rip the octagonal talisman off from his wrist, placing it in Ji Wuming’s open hand.
“Mine was to help you,” he said, “and you will know yours when the time comes.”
With that, the old man’s body seemed to become more fragile than ever. His already pale skin became paler and he slumped back into the bed.
Since the Apocalypse and when he first awakened as a nameless man, Ji Wuming had only two people who he held dear. Now, after many years of war and peace, only one remained.