Chapter 12: The Storm’s Eve

The night was black as iron. Wind carved through the ridgeline, hissing over snow-slick stone. From the crest of the western slope, the enemy camp flickered faintly—embers scattered across the valley like a fire about to erupt. Snow fell soundlessly, blanketing armor, eyebrows, and steel edges, as though the land itself held its breath for the storm to come.

The Shadow Blade Squad crept forward in silence, five shadows wrapped in laborer's garb. Li Song wore a ragged cloak and cloth cap, a dagger in his boot, and both crossbow and Dog Blade strapped to his waist. His gaze was iron, every step vanishing into snow without a trace.

Bai walked beside him in a merchant's cloak lined with fur, a copper bell and gourd of medicine dangling at her side. Her lips bore a faint rouge—disguised as a southern trader—but her eyes were sharp as talons, constantly scanning.

Xie Hong hunched like a cripple, basket of medicine strapped to his back, leaning on a thick staff. His massive frame moved with convincing clumsiness.

Mu Rong and Rocky had already vanished into the forest behind them. Their task was to create confusion from the flanks while the other three infiltrated from the front.

Raymond's supply base sprawled in the canyon basin, ringed by triple layers of sharpened stakes and rope fencing. At its heart: two command tents, dozens of wagons, and nearly a hundred soldiers huddled around campfires. The enemy's banners fluttered above it all, the golden eagle crest glaring coldly into the storm.

Two guards stepped forward as Li Song's group approached. Spears lowered.

"Traders?" one barked in a clipped Latin accent. "No entry. This isn't a market."

Bai stepped forward, smile calm. "We were caught in the storm—hoping to trade firewood and sheep fat. We bring strong wine to warm your captain's blood. Care to sample it first?"

She offered a copper flask. The scent of alcohol wafted out. The soldier's suspicion faded just enough for him to take a sip—then cough.

"Strong stuff," he muttered, waving them through. "Take it in. Let the officers warm up too."

They slipped into the camp unnoticed. Li Song's eyes took in every detail: new recruits, lazy patrols, unwatched supply carts, and a sparsely guarded fire pit on the western edge.

"I'll count to ten. Mu Rong will light the signal."

——

Thirty breaths later, an explosion rocked the canyon.

Mu Rong had ignited the grain depot. Flames leapt into the dawn sky. Rocky felled a pine near the camp's north gate—horses screamed, soldiers scattered, discipline vanished.

"Enemy raid! Protect the wagons!" a lieutenant roared.

Li Song, Bai, and Xie Hong pressed into the chaos. A sentry spotted them too late—Xie Hong snapped his neck in silence. They reached the command tent and slipped inside.

Behind layers of fur and parchment lay a trove: Gaulish scrolls, three military seals, regional defense maps, and a sealed iron box.

Bai scanned the orders quickly: "Circumvent the east ridge. Sever water lines. Night assault on central command. They mean to surround us."

Li Song's voice was grim: "That letter points straight to General Kelide."

"Take it all," Bai ordered, stashing documents inside her gourd. They slipped from the tent and escaped through the forest, regrouping with Mu Rong and Rocky.

Mu Rong held her grappling hook, blood fresh on the steel. An enemy officer lay decapitated in the snow. Rocky emerged from the dark, bloodied but grinning: "The north road's blocked. They're trampling each other to flee. They'll never regroup by morning."

Without a word, the five disappeared into the mountain mists, leaving the enemy camp in flame and disarray.

——

By midday, the squad stood before General Kelide once again. His face lit by firelight, he reviewed their report in silence.

"This confirms everything. Raymond is planning a four-pronged assault. And his spear is aimed at us."

Li Song pointed to the map: "If General Tu Lu arrives in three days, we can intercept them at Salt Spring Valley."

Kelide stared long, then tossed him a tiger token: "From tonight onward, you answer to Tu Lu. You are the knife between our enemy's ribs."

Bai raised a brow. "Will he trust us?"

Kelide's voice was cold steel: "He'll trust you to kill thirty men, burn their food, destroy their tents, and come back alive. That's enough."

He looked at Li Song: "Tell Tu Lu to ignore the council's hesitation. At Western Ridge—it's time to wage war."

The fire danced in the wind, the tent's walls rippling like war banners. None of the five spoke. Li Song studied the enemy blueprints with narrowed eyes.

The eve of the true storm had arrived.