Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Contest (Twelve)

In the depths of night, Xu Le finally halted, raising his gaze to the sky. The bright moon hung low in the west, casting its pale glow over the Cloud Basin. For centuries, this place had been an ancient battlefield where countless corpses had lain; even the moonlight seemed tinged with a cold, murderous solemnity.

Over a thousand Yuet patrol riders wandered through the darkness, their figures faintly visible thanks to tonight’s radiant moon. It was now the latter half of the night. Having endured hours of chilly winds, the riders had grown listless, hunched on their saddles with hands tucked into sleeves, occasionally stopping to rest and let their mounts recover.

The Cloud Basin, though called a basin, was fractured terrain. Its soil barely retained water, with shallow gullies carved everywhere. Hiding a force of hundreds would be impossible, but for just one or two people, sneaking undetected to the Yuet encampment under the cover of night was hardly a challenge.

Xu Le and Bu Li had raced nearly twenty li to reach the vicinity of the Yuet camp. Nearing their destination, Xu Le led Bu Li into one of the shallow gullies, moving slowly and carefully, crouched low and using the withered grass for cover as they crept toward the encampment.

The rapid journey took them about an hour. Navigating the gaps between patrols, they twisted and turned, covering a mile or two until they finally reached the stockade of the Yuet camp—this last stretch alone cost them another half hour.

Beneath the moon, the stockade loomed before them. A freshly dug trench ran along the front, its earth still bright, but only four or five feet deep—meant to deter siege engines from approaching, not to prevent infantry assaults. To a military mind, it was little more than a show. But here, no matter how strict the defenses, if the Eagle Command of Heng’an turned against them, the camp would be flattened in an instant.

The stockade itself was built almost flush with the trench, with wooden planks nailed high inside for sentries to patrol. Standing atop, a guard could expose half his body. When Bu Li escaped before, she had vaulted over it with ease.

Xu Le had attacked this place deeply by day, solely to memorize the layout for tonight’s rescue of Luo Dun. From the start, he’d intended to sneak in under cover of darkness to save him. But his bold assault nearly got him caught by Black Fruit’s men, costing him dearly. Yet, by twist of fate, Yuchi Gong rescued him, Yuan Junzhang brought him to Liu Wuzhou, and Liu, with courteous hospitality, detained him, leaving Xu Le with no choice but to infiltrate the Yuet camp alone.

Still, Xu Le, the young lord, had arrived!

He savored the thought, glancing back. Bu Li crouched silently behind him, her face serious, eyes fixed on the stockade. Xu Le added to himself:

And this little wolf-girl who followed me...

Bu Li, the little wolf-girl, saw Xu Le turn and quietly took out a dagger, handing it to him. Xu Le examined it. The blade bore inscriptions, forged by the Jinyang Ironworks. Their military arms were spears, halberds, straight blades—supplied to the northern garrisons of the Sui dynasty. This dagger was a craftsman’s plaything, but thoughtfully made, at least refined two or three dozen times. Perhaps Bu Li spent all her spare time sharpening it; its edge gleamed cold and keen.

Xu Le handed the dagger back, whispering, "I don't need it. Keep it close, and stay with me!"

Bu Li obediently took it, saying nothing.

Xu Le was quite satisfied with this petite, endearing girl, always silent and unfailingly obedient. She never asked questions, did what she was told, never caused trouble. She moved quickly and quietly, shadowing him without falling behind, leaving barely a trace. If he’d brought Han Yue, with his earth-shaking steps, they’d have been discovered miles before reaching the Yuet camp...

As for weapons, he truly had no need. After nearly twenty li at a run, every ounce mattered. Each bit of energy was precious, reserved for the battle within the camp. And as for arms, the camp was full of Yuet warriors—plenty of weapons at hand!

After instructing Bu Li, Xu Le lay flat, crawling forward with his elbows, silently slipping down the trench and climbing up again, then stepping lightly to press against the stockade.

Bu Li’s slight figure followed, slipping into the shadow of the stockade. Xu Le, sharp-eared as he was, barely heard her approach.

The stockade was built from timber felled by the Yuet tribe, crudely erected and not particularly sturdy. An assault with ropes and fire could probably tear down a whole section. The wood was untrimmed, leaving plenty of branches for handholds. Xu Le wasted no time, grabbing a branch and vaulting up.

Inside, narrow planks were nailed for guards to patrol. Xu Le landed flat on the plank; nearby, Yuet patrolmen stood, though facing outward and dozing through their watch.

Inside the camp, the fires were out. Patrolmen wandered between tents, but outside, all was quiet with no alarms. Their vigilance was hardly impressive—most moved lazily, few kept a sharp eye out for danger.

Within the Yuet camp, a hush prevailed. The bloody strife between the nine clans during the day had left only a trace of blood in the air, with no evidence remaining.

Xu Le’s gaze fell upon the king’s tent.

He didn’t know where Luo Dun was, but it didn’t matter—the king’s tent held the most important figures. Capture them, and Luo Dun’s location would be revealed.

All around him, Yuet warriors stood. He was unarmed and alone. In Cloud City, Liu Wuzhou sat with heavy troops, his friendly smile offering no help. Xu Le was solitary, yet the youth felt no fear.

The plank beside him sank gently; Bu Li had slipped over the stockade, landing in the shadow at his side.

Ah, he was not alone—he had the little wolf-girl.

In the darkness, Xu Le turned to Bu Li with a calm smile, his expression serene as ever. Slipping down from the stockade, timing his movements with the patrols weaving through the camp, he edged toward the king’s tent.

Bu Li pressed her lips tight, silent, following close behind.

Cold moonlight spilled across the ground, and the Yuet king’s tent was now in sight. Before its vast expanse, a ring of guards watched outward, their vigilance nearly flawless.