The Battle Within(4)

Zhixian cleared his throat as he stared at the rising sun, trying to breathe through the slowly growing pain in his side.

Behind him, the remnants of his forces rode in tired clusters, murmuring amongst themselves.

He thought about the information he'd gathered from the interrogation a few days ago. Most of them hadn't lasted long, neither had they given him anything worthwhile.

The captain had finally cracked after days of gruelling interrogation. Zhixian could still hear the man's voice, desperate and hoarse.

"The empire will fall from within," the officer had muttered, his face contorted in pain and hate. "You can't stop it. It's already begun."

Zhixian had leaned in closer, gripping the man's collar. "What are you talking about?" He asked, eyes narrowed.

"Your father's empire will collapse from beneath your feet, evil prince. No amount of planning will save you from what's coming..."

Zhixian felt his eye twitch. How did that answer his question?

But the prisoner had met his gaze one final time, defiance burning through the pain. With a snarl, he'd bitten down on his tongue, silencing any further revelations.

His body had been left for the scavengers as punishment when the men left the campsite.

The prince exhaled slowly, fingers clenched around the reins as he pushed the memory aside. Obviously, that meant there were spies in their ranks or the capital, either way, he wasn't too pleased with the news.

Even now, surveying the road ahead, Zhixian's mind continued to churn.

"Have the scouts been sent ahead?" His voice betrayed none of the pain continuing to gnaw at him.

"Yes, my lord," Captain Lian replied from his side, his tone formal. "They're sweeping the area now for any remaining pockets of resistance."

Prince Zhixian nodded, satisfied, but the stiffness in his shoulders barely eased. The familiar ache that had begun low in his abdomen earlier crept more insistently.

He shifted his weight, hoping to ease the cramps, but they refused to subside. They never lasted long, but the inconvenience was infuriating—especially now.

The prince turned away from the column, his gaze landing on the horizon where the capital lay hidden behind distant hills.

The thought of returning home should have brought him relief, but instead, a sense of dread began to knot in his stomach, mixing with the pain.

Returning to the capital meant facing more than the politics of war. It meant confronting Minister Shen—a viper wrapped in noble robes.

Minister Shen, with his oily smile and careful words, would have grown bolder in recent years he had been away. His knowledge of Zhixian's most dangerous secret gave him leverage. One Zhixian could not easily counter, not without drastic consequences.

His hand unconsciously went to his armoured abdomen. He wasn't scared of anyone, he was a warrior, a general.

He was feared instead. 

"My lord, are you well?"

Lian's voice cut through Zhixian's thoughts. He glanced sideways at his captain and closest advisor.

Lian's face, streaked with grime and blood, was set in a rare frown. Zhixian knew that look. Although one of the few who dared speak freely to him, Lian rarely pushed unless it came to matters of his well-being.

That he was doing so now was an unwelcome sign.

"I'm fine," Zhixian said, more curtly than he intended.

"You don't look fine," Lian pressed, guiding his horse closer. "You've been riding hard for days and barely rested. No one expects a prince to be invincible, Kai."

His hand reached for the Prince's face. "You should consider making camp before we—"

"I said I'm fine," Zhixian repeated, grabbing his arm tightly. "Do not forget yourself."

Having Lian revert to his birth name in public made him feel uncomfortable.

Lian's lips thinned, but he did not push further. Instead, he lowered his hand and glanced back at the men riding behind him, their bandaged wounds visible against dust-streaked skin.

Some rode in silence, the effects of battle still heavy on their shoulders, while others exchanged murmured words, their hands steady on the reins despite their injuries.

"Very well," Lian muttered, turning back to the field. "But we need to talk about this later."

Prince Zhixian ignored the comment. The discomfort of the cramps seemed to intensify the longer he rode, and his body screamed for rest. But there was no time for it.

The sooner they reached the capital, the sooner he could deal with this—and whatever other vultures waited in the imperial court.

His body would have to endure.

It always had.

They would reach the inner lands within the hour.

*****

The journey home was gruelling.

Perhaps it was because of how long he had spent away but the lands he had fought hard for felt unfamiliar.

Tension remained in the ranks as the men rode through rolling hills and forests no doubt thick with the remnants of their enemy, ragged groups of deserters and bandits who hoped to scavenge off the returning soldiers.

 Zhixian rode at the front of the column, Heiying moving with a graceful power beneath him. Despite his composure, his every muscle ached, and the cramps—faint but persistent—reminded him of his limitations.

Just as the sun began to sink lower over the terrain they passed through narrow gorges and ridged paths, 'perfect conditions for an ambush,' Zhixian thought absentmindedly.

His men trusted him completely, but he did not trust the wilds or lurking danger the landscape concealed.

A sharp sound pierced the evening air—an arrow. Zhixian's instincts kicked in immediately, and he drew his sword free. "Ambush!"

The whistle of arrows rained down from the cliff edges and a group of bandits rushed at the rear flank.

Why were bandits from the north this close to the capital? He thought with a frown.

His soldiers reacted rapidly, shields raised to intercept the barrage while others formed a defensive circle.

Zhixian drove his horse forward, blade flashing as he cut down the first bandit who dared approach him.

He moved with deadly grace. His pain, forgotten in the chaos of battle, faded beneath the rush of adrenaline flooding his veins.

The fight was brief but bloody.

His soldiers swiftly dispatched the attackers, leaving the bodies strewn along the path. Kai En reined in his horse, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion.

His eyes scanned the fallen bodies, ensuring that no more threats remained.

"Bandits," Lian muttered beside him, cleaning the blood from his blade. "They've been getting bolder, even after the war. We should have anticipated this."

Zhixian nodded, though his focus was elsewhere. The nausea surged again, twisting his stomach into knots. His breath hitched as he curled slightly forward, one arm pressing against his abdomen in a vain attempt to steady himself.

For a moment, he feared he might retch, but he forced it down, swallowing hard.

He clenched the reins tightly in his gloved hands, unwilling to show the slightest sign of weakness—not in front of his men, especially not in front of Lian.

"We move," he ordered. "The capital is still too far. We can't afford any more delays."

Around him, the soldiers adjusted their stances on horseback, shields secured, weapons unsheathed, and eyes scanning the treeline for any lingering threats.

A few tended to minor wounds while mounted. The horses, though tired, snorted and pawed at the dirt, their riders keeping them steady as they waited for the signal to advance.

Lian eyed him again, his expression filled with concern. "Kai, maybe we should—"

"I said we move," Zhixian snapped, his patience wearing thin. "I won't repeat it, Lian."

To his credit, Lian bit back whatever he had been about to say, his gaze hardening before he nodded. With a sharp whistle, he signalled to the troops. 

The soldiers began to align into marching formations. The clink of metal and the soft stomping of hooves broke the silence as they prepared to continue their journey.

Zhixian sat rigid in his saddle, his hand brushing his abdomen as if to banish the pain through sheer force of will.

The pain was subsiding, but he knew it would return—it always did.

He would not be weak. He could not afford to be.

---

An unsettling silence marked the final stretch of their journey toward the capital. The woods thinned out, and the landscape opened into rolling fields of yellowed grass, broken only by the occasional farmstead. Zhixian's mind drifted to the palace as the outline of the capital walls loomed in the distance.

The cramping had worsened, each jolt of discomfort a reminder that his body was betraying him in small but intolerable ways. He felt the weight of his armour more keenly than before, the press against his skin unbearable at times like this.

But he pressed on, his jaw clenched, focus unwavering.

The palace awaited him—Minister Shen awaited him, armed with whispers and leverage that could dismantle everything Zhixian had worked for.

His mother's letters had done nothing to ease his hate over the years away from the capital. 

He imagined the look on Shen's face when they met again: that smug, knowing smile, the manipulation in his eyes.

Zhixian's fingers itched around his sword hilt at the thought of ending Shen's life the moment he saw him. But no. Such a move would be reckless and dangerous. Too many watched their delicate power games. Too many would benefit from Zhixian's fall.

"Nearly there," Lian's voice cut through the quiet, drawing Zhixian's attention back to the present. "The scouts report no further threats ahead. We should reach the gates by dusk."

Zhixian nodded, though the tension in his chest did not ease. The closer they came to the capital, the tighter the knot in his stomach grew. It was irrational, he knew—he had faced enemies far more dangerous than any scheming minister or power-hungry sibling.

But this was different.

The battlefield, at least, was predictable. The palace was not.

"You haven't rested properly in days," Lian started again, his voice quieter. "If we need to stop, no one will think less of you."

Zhixian shot him a sharp glance. "How many times must I tell you? I don't need rest."

Lian raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He knew better than to push Zhixian too far, but the concern in his eyes remained. Zhixian ignored it, turning his focus forward once more. His soldiers had begun to murmur, excited to see their homes and families again.

The mood had lifted, but Zhixian could not shake the feeling of what awaited him inside the capital's gates.

The city's walls rose higher as they approached, the banners of the imperial family fluttering in the wind. The gates would soon open to welcome their victorious prince and the men would be met with cheers, praise, and admiration.

But he knew better than to trust the smiles of courtiers and nobles. Every step inside that city was another step toward an unseen trap.

As they passed through the gates, Zhixian straightened in his saddle, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. His men would look to him for leadership, for strength. They would not see the pain he carried, the secret he kept, or the uncertainty that gnawed at him.

But he felt it all the same.

The battle may be over, but the true war—within the palace walls—had only just begun.