During those three weeks while Jian Zhi and the others were preparing for his plan, in Liánhuā District’s magistrate’s office, Magistrate Lǐ Wěi asked Scribe Wén, “Mr. Wén, where is your son? We haven’t heard from him since we sent the Veridians to fight that Crimson General—or whatever that weed’s name is. Speaking of Veridians, we haven’t received any news from that scene. Ask your sources and find out what happened.”

  Scribe Wén nodded and went to search for information about the incident.

  He walked into the streets and asked the villagers, “Excuse me, have you heard anything about a fight in the street recently?”

  One person thought for a moment, then said, “Oh yes, they said there was going to be a fight here, so we had to evacuate the village and move to another one. There were many women and a man with a sword and armor there. But what actually happened… that’s still a mystery to us.”

  Scribe Wén thanked him and continued on, his mind racing. A man with a sword and armor? Could it be Zhào and the women he saved the other day? Or is it someone else? Where did those Veridians go?

  As he was lost in thought, he bumped into a woman from the Crimson General’s safe house. She recognized Scribe Wén as Captain Zhào’s father and immediately said, “You’re Captain Zhào’s father, aren’t you? Come with me—it’s not safe for you here.”

  Scribe Wén followed her, he looked confused.

  After a few minutes of walking, they arrived at the safe house. Scribe Wén asked, “How do you know me? And why have you brought me here?”

  The woman replied, “That’s not important right now. Captain Zhào was here two days ago. He tried to fight the Crimson General, but then he agreed to an alliance with our General. That’s how I know you. And… Captain Zhào left a message for you.”

  Scribe Wén remained calm and collected, his expression sharp. He nodded for her to continue.

  She said, “The message was to declare that Captain Zhào is dead—along with the Veridian soldiers. They were hunted down by the Crimson General, and their bodies were eaten by the demonic wolf pack, which are our General’s pets. He also said, ‘The time has come. It is in three weeks.’”

  Hearing this, Scribe Wén began to piece together his son’s intention behind the fake death and the alliance. He also wondered what kind of man could tame wild beasts and make them his own.

  He returned to the magistrate’s office and reported, “My Lord, the Veridians and my son were attacked by the Crimson General and his demonic wolf pack. Now, the demonic wolves and the bears are still lurking in the shadows of the district. I’m afraid we cannot fulfill this month’s quota for the Veridians.”

  Hearing that his plan had failed, Magistrate Lǐ Wěi punched the armrest of his chair, closed his eyes, and thought of a solution. After a few minutes, he asked, “What about the goods we prepared for this month?”

  Scribe Wén replied, “My Lord, they were also rescued by him.”

  Blow after blow, Magistrate Lǐ Wěi’s frustration showed clearly on his face. “I will go to the nearby districts. We need to reinforce our arsenal now that we’ve lost Captain Zhào. I will return in two weeks.”

  Magistrate Lǐ Wěi traveled to the nearby districts of Blackrock Vale (黑石谷 - Hēi Shí Gǔ) and Silent Creek (静溪镇 - Jìng Xī Zhèn).

  Blackrock Vale (黑石谷 - Hēi Shí Gǔ) is a rugged, smoke-choked district dominated by a massive iron mine that cuts through the landscape like a deep, black scar. The air is permanently tinged with the smell of soot and forge-fire, and the constant clang of hammers echoes through the valleys. Its people are hardened miners and stern blacksmiths, their faces often streaked with grime. The district is a vital source of weapons and tools for the province.

  Silent Creek (静溪镇 - Jìng Xī Zhèn) is a district of stark white cliffs and vast limestone quarries that loom over surprisingly quiet, dusty towns. The constant, fine white powder from the quarries settles over everything, muting colors and sounds, giving the area its unnaturally hushed atmosphere. The lime extracted here is essential for construction, mortar, and certain refining processes, making it economically critical, but a miserable place to live.

  Magistrate Lǐ Wěi met two generals, one from each district:

  · Tiě Shān (铁山 - "Iron Mountain") from Blackrock Vale (黑石谷 - Hēi Shí Gǔ): A massive, broad-shouldered man in his late forties, with a permanent squint from years working near forge fires. He is slow to speak, pragmatic, and unwavering in his loyalty to the empire's chain of command—not out of personal respect for the magistrate, but out of rigid discipline. He wields a custom-forged Dadao (大刀) great blade that few other men could even lift.· Bái Yá (白牙 - "White Fang") from Silent Creek (静溪镇 - Jìng Xī Zhèn): A lean, sharp-faced man in his early fifties, with calculating eyes that miss nothing. His hair and armor are often dusted with a fine layer of white limestone powder. He is cunning, patient, and known for his ruthless efficiency in suppressing labor unrest in the quarries. He is motivated by a promise of wealth and status from the magistrate. He favors a Qiang (枪) spear, using its reach to keep opponents at a distance.

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  Both had climbed to the rank of general due to their loyalty to Magistrate Lǐ Wěi. He brought them back to Liánhuā District.

  When they arrived at the magistrate’s office, Scribe Wén greeted them, bitterness hidden behind a sweet lie: “Welcome, my Lord.”

  Magistrate Lǐ Wěi introduced Tiě Shān and Bái Yá to Scribe Wén, then explained the plan: “We must export the women from Liánhuā District to Veridia. But there is a weed bothering me these days. You two must manage to fight and drive off his so-called pets. Only then can we recapture our goods.”

  With his sly fox nature, he plotted to hunt down the wolves of Devil’s Mountain. Both generals nodded.

  The next day, they went to fight the demonic wolf pack in the village, accompanied by soldiers.

  Bái Yá found a lone wolf. He ordered the soldiers, “Soldiers, surround it in groups of five or more. thrust your spears into its stomach.”

  As they moved to encircle the wolf, they did not realize it was a trap. Demonic wolves are far more cunning and calculating than a mere fox. As they closed in, the entire pack launched an attack from the trees and shadows of the buildings. They brutally bit into the soldiers’ necks, chewing limbs while the men’s eyes filled with fear and their mouths screamed for help.

  Bái Yá immediately fled on his horse to save himself.

  On the other side, Tiě Shān tried to fight the bears but soon realized they were working together with the wolves. Ravens attacked anyone who tried to use arrows against the bears or wolves. The birds monitored enemy movements and signaled to the wolves and bears. The wolves’ master plan was executed perfectly in their master’s stead—with the help of bears and ravens.

  Back in the magistrate’s office, Magistrate Lǐ Wěi was breaking everything in frustration and anger. “Ahh, fuck! Who is that bastard? He shows up out of nowhere, frees the bitches, and now uses animals to protect them! Impulsiveness won’t work against him. We must wait and lure him out alone by setting a trap. We need to spread the word of a bounty on him. People are desperate for money—when money is in front of them, they’ll even sell their own savior.”

  Scribe Wén listened to everything. That night, he returned to the safe house to meet Captain Zhào. There, he also met another man—their most trusted ally.

  “Hello. I am Jian Zhi, though people call me the Crimson General. You must be Scribe Wén, Zhào’s father.” Jian Zhi spoke gently and respectfully toward the older man.

  Scribe Wén appreciated his politeness and began explaining what had happened in the office.

  After hearing the magistrate’s plan, Jian Zhi said, “He can do whatever he wants. Everything will go according to our plan. As for those two new generals, Captain Zhào can handle them while our ladies fight the soldiers. Most importantly, follow the plan exactly, and no one will get so much as a scratch. The women you rescued are safer here.”

  Scribe Wén was amazed by the young man’s calmness and smiled in relief. He then noticed Lin Wei and asked her, “Hey, little one, why are you here? Are you lost?”

  “No, Grandpa, I live here with my sisters and my brother.”

  “Brother? Who is that?” he asked.

  “The one and only Crimson General,” she replied with a proud smile.

  “Hahaha, so he’s your brother? What’s your name?”

  “I am Lin Wei.”

  Scribe Wén’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing his late daughter’s name. “Lin Wei?” He knelt and smiled at her. “You will be well protected and live a peaceful life.”

  Lin Wei replied, “I know I will. My brother promised me that life.”

  A week passed. Everyone was now well-trained under the Crimson General’s guidance.

  On the day of reckoning, Jian Zhi laid out the plan one final time: “Everyone, you have all suffered under the corruption of this district. Some were sold, some lost families, some had their lives ruined. That suffering ends today. We will create a place where you can all live peaceful lives. Those who endured hardship will now become the enforcers of justice and peace. Are you ready for war?”

  Hearing his inspiring words, the women warriors—tempered in Devil’s Mountain by the Mountain Devil himself—shouted in unison, “YES, GENERAL!”

  “Captain Zhào, you will engage the generals directly. Begin the Symphony of the Soul Scratcher. Mei Lin, destroy their weapons and provide cover for him.”

  Mei Lin nodded. “Yes, General.”

  “Lian, lead the archery team to the spot I mentioned. Launch arrows and clear the path. Captain Zhào’s men will herd the soldiers toward you.”

  Lian nodded.

  “I will deal with Jiǔ Tù and Dr. Kaelen myself.”

  “Captain Zhào, if you get a chance to fight the magistrate, do not engage yet.”

  Captain Zhào’s hand rested on the hilt of the Soul Scratcher. He could already hear its potential song in his mind—not a battle cry, but a deadly, rhythmic composition waiting to be played upon the generals’ armor. He was not just a soldier; he was a conductor preparing for a symphony of death.

  But, Captain Zhào replied, “Okay. His swordsmanship is exceptional in this district, anyway.”

  Everyone began to move according to the plan. Some fought for freedom; some fought to take it away.

  From a hidden rooftop overlooking the district square, Mei Lin settled the long, iron-bamboo stock of the Devil's Whisper against her shoulder. She took a steadying breath, her eye pressed to the ground crystal lens. Through the sight, the world was a whirlwind of chaos, but her target was a single point of cold, hard reality: the gleaming hilt of General Tiě Shān's Dadao.

  Her finger rested on the trigger. In her mind, she heard the General's lesson—not a shout, but a calm whisper. "A weapon does not just kill. It sends a message. "She squeezed. The steel spider silk cord snapped forward with a faint, cutting whisper. The spiraled bone projectile shot through the air, unseen.

  Down below, General Tiě Shān raised his great blade to signal a charge. But before his arm could complete the motion, his hand went numb. He looked down in confusion to see the hilt of his sword shatter, the blade clattering uselessly to the cobblestones. At the center of the splintered wood was a single, sharpened piece of bone. A message had been delivered.

  The conductor has arrived with his baton..