The instant Lin pressed himself against the tree trunk, the wind in the forest stopped.
In the clearing, the skeletal warhorse moved as if it had received a silent command. Its bone hooves scraped lightly against the ground. Green fire breathed outward from the cracks in its rib cage, illuminating the grass beneath its feet and staining the night an unnatural, murky green.
Then a massive shadow stepped out from the trees ahead and to the side.
Lin's heart tightened until it felt ready to snap.
He recognized that armor.
The thing that had hunted him for half the night.
The Iron Cavalry General stopped ten paces away.
The air froze.
In the deep forest, not a single insect dared to make a sound.
Lin did not retreat. He shifted his weight just enough to let the tree shield half his body, while his fingers tightened around the length of deadwood in his hand. He knew better than to expose his back to something like this. Any careless movement would earn him a death stripped of dignity.
The dark figure stepped fully into the moonlight.
The armor looked as though it had been burned by fire long ago, streaked with deep brown scorch marks, like something dug out of blood-soaked mud after an ancient battle. The golden arm guards were still bright, but scarred and chipped by countless blade marks. A royal crest was carved into the breastplate, and it seemed as if dried blood still clung to its grooves.
Above it was a face—
If it could be called a face at all.
The flesh was dry and waxy, stretched tight against bone. The mouth was torn too wide, as if it had been ripped open by force. The eyes were gray-white, empty of pupils, like two old wells that reflected nothing.
The Iron Cavalry General raised his head and looked at Lin.
When he spoke, his voice sounded as if it had been scraped up from beneath the earth.
"Impressive."
The two words ground slowly against Lin's ears like stones.
Lin did not dare move even his fingers.
"To injure my elite soldiers—"
The general paused, as though recalling the pursuers Lin had shaken off and wounded along the way.
"And still refuse to abandon your own people, even when you had a clear chance to escape."
A strange expression flickered through those gray-white eyes.
It was not mockery.
Not anger.
It was something closer to appreciation.
"I admire you."
Wind passed through the ribs of the skeletal warhorse. The sound forced out through the bone seams was sharp and mournful, like souls trapped in a corpse weeping in pain.
Lin wanted to spit a cold reply, but his tongue felt stiff and uncooperative.
He had never felt this before in front of an enemy.
Not fear.
Something deeper. Something lodged in the bone itself.
Regret.
He might not leave tonight.
He might never see his wife again. Never see Wei again.
The Iron Cavalry General seemed to sense it.
The cracked corners of his mouth slowly pulled apart, forming a distorted smile. It held no warmth, no muscle, no trace of humanity.
Lin had never known that this thing could smile.
He studied the monster before him, a heavy unease pressing against his chest.
There was no stench of blood, yet a faint taste of it lingered in the air.
No rot of corpses, yet a chill like wind sweeping across an open plain of graves.
It was not the cold of winter.
Not the cold of frozen flesh.
It was the breath of something buried deep in an ancient tomb.
The general's eyes were like deep wells. Under that gaze, Lin's breathing tightened without his consent, his heartbeat seeming to flatten under an invisible palm.
Lin looked away, lifting his eyes to the sky.
The moon hung there, cold and clean, so clear it felt unreal.
He knew he did not have much time left.
The Iron Cavalry General, however, seemed to savor the standoff. His voice softened slightly.
"Look at the people you tried to protect."
He raised a golden arm guard and pointed behind Lin.
"Did anyone come back for you? Did anyone turn around?"
His tone was slow, almost patient.
"They only cared about saving themselves."
The general stood in the moonlight.
The golden arm guards reflected a pale sheen, like an old tool polished again and again over the years.
He looked at Lin.
In those pupil-less eyes, there was no anger. No urgency.
Only a calm, almost patient scrutiny.
"You did not run," the general said, his voice low and even.
"Even when you could have."
Lin did not answer.
His back was pressed tight against the tree. Cold sweat soaked his palms.
The general lifted his hand slightly and gestured toward the black forest behind Lin.
"They fled," he said quietly, as if stating an unimportant fact.
"And you came back."
The skeletal warhorse stepped once beside him.
Once.
The general continued.
"I have seen many people."
"Those who only run."
"Those who only stop."
"And a few who choose the wrong direction, yet keep going anyway."
His gaze settled on Lin's face.
"You belong to the second kind."
Lin's breath caught.
"As for those two children—"
The general's voice slowed, as though recalling something amusing.
"They entered the fire."
"They did not turn back."
"And they did not abandon each other."
He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to some distant echo already recorded.
"That is the third kind."
The night wind passed through the clearing.
In that moment, Lin realized something with chilling clarity.
From the very beginning, none of their choices had been accidents.
Lin swallowed. His breathing felt pressed deep into the bottom of his chest.
He did not reply. He did not look at the Iron Cavalry General.
A quiet, stubborn stillness rooted him in place, like an old stone standing against the wind.
The general seemed to see through him.
"It seems my offer is not enough."
He slowly raised his right hand.
"Then let us add more."
The skeletal warhorse responded as if sharing its master's will. Its iron-shod hooves struck the ground three times.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
The dull sound tore a crack through the night air.
In the next instant, the forest around them began to rustle.
Soft, slow, broken footsteps.
The drag of feet scraping against earth.
The heavy knock of rotting bones striking tree roots.
Out of the darkness, one armored corpse after another emerged, their armor shattered by age and battle.
They walked into the clearing like devils released from hell.
Lin felt the rough surface of the deadwood creak faintly in his grip.
The Iron Cavalry General lowered his gaze to Lin. His voice was calm, as if discussing terms of trade.
"Join me."
"I will make you a centurion."
"You will have power. Loyalty. Eternity."
Lin did not move.
He did not look at him. He did not speak.
The wind stirred his hair. His silence was like a dull blade, slowly cutting into the night.
The general's smile faded. His eyes turned cold.
"…Still not enough."
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
The sound was sharp and final.
At once, more footsteps echoed from the opposite direction.
Lin's entire body tightened to its limit.
Then, carried on the wind, a voice tore through the night.
Broken. Trembling. Familiar.
"Lin! The children's father!"
Lin's body jolted as if struck by lightning.
He lifted his head, disbelief flashing through his eyes.
That was his wife's voice.