Real Mount and Blade Game

The campfire crackled, casting dappled light and shadows on Zhang Song's face, which was ravaged by blood loss.

He looked up at Shen Mu's blurry silhouette on horseback, his breathing like a broken bellows, each inhale accompanied by a sharp pain deep in his chest.

When Shen Mu's deep voice rang out once more amidst the aura of death—

"Why would he stab you? It's ridiculous. I always remembered that you two had a good relationship."

Shen Mu looked at Zhang Song with amusement.

Zhang Song seemed to be pulled back into the abyss of time by this question.

His eyes were unfocused as he stared at the gloomy night sky shrouded in thick smoke. His voice was weak but unusually clear as he began a long, broken whisper.

"My lord... cough... perhaps you feel that listening to the past of a traitor, a defeated enemy... is pointless?"

He forced a smile, a metallic taste rising in his throat: "But as a dying man approaches death... please allow me, someone whose name even sounded like a weed since childhood... to say a few more words..."

“On the west side of Longcheng City… near the old train station… that dilapidated building that always looks like it's dripping water… that’s my ‘home’.”

His gaze drifted into the distance: "That winter when I was ten, it was really cold... Construction trucks swallowed my parents... We couldn't even find a piece of our land intact... Creditors seized our house, relatives took our furniture, and the neighbors said I was a 'jinx,' bringing bad luck to my parents... With nowhere to go, I huddled in the neighbor's hallway... like a dirty dog ​​about to freeze to death..."

"That was... the first time Yang Di saw me."

A strange warmth flickered across Zhang Song's face: "That day... was it after the snow had cleared? He followed the convoy that came to the shantytown for some kind of 'charity donation'... I huddled in the shadows against the wall... just wanting to hide myself... so as not to get in the way of those important people... but he... just stopped..."

Zhang Song paused, seemingly recalling that fateful eye contact: "He was very tall... impeccably dressed in a suit... amidst those dilapidated rubble... he seemed like someone from another world... His gaze... wasn't condescending... not disdainful... it was... seeing the hatred in my eyes... hatred for the whole world..."

"He asked my name... Someone nearby was muttering about my 'unlucky' background... He just frowned... and then... made a decision that shocked everyone—he said, 'Come with me. Studying and living in the dorms is better than rotting here.'"

Tears mingled silently with blood and slid down Zhang Song's cheeks.
"That was the first time I slept in a heated room... the first time I ate in the cafeteria... so many hot meals... I didn't have to rummage through the trash anymore... I didn't have to be chased and beaten by those older kids who called me a 'bastard'... Yang Di... he paid my tuition... junior high... high school... even university..."

But Zhang Song's eyes quickly dimmed: "You know... in those years... in the mire of urban villages... even just being given a full meal... was an immense favor... and he... gave me a home... a future... an identity where I could stand tall... When Green Leaf Group was first established... I was just a lowly clerk doing data organization... It was he... who promoted me... and let me join the negotiation team... to handle core matters... He patted my shoulder and said: 'Zhang Song, you're like my younger brother, and even more so, my confidant. Green Leaf's future includes you!'"

At this point, he coughed up a mouthful of blood, his voice becoming even more hoarse:

"This debt of gratitude... is too heavy... so heavy that all these years, I've willingly become the knife in his darkest corners... how many... troubles that can't see the light of day have I dealt with for him? I can't remember... I only know... the path of Green Leaf Group... was paved with my conscience and blood... I think... even if I die... I must repay this debt of gratitude... only then can I be worthy of that little beggar who was brought back to the human world by him in the cold wind back then..."

"later…"

He trembled violently, the last glimmer of light in his eyes went out, leaving only cold despair and self-mockery: "...It turned out like this...the hand that pulled me out of hell back then...personally...pushed me into hell..."

Shen Mu's cold gaze remained fixed on him: "So, it was only because we'd severed all ties that he took action?"

Zhang Song grinned, revealing a smile that was more like a grimace, with blood clinging to his teeth.

He looked at the terrible wound on his groin, hastily bandaged by the Kujit, yet still seeping dark, damp stains—the wound Yang Di had left with his personal dagger.

"...Perhaps...I misjudged him..."

He used his last strength to utter these words, each one chillingly cold:
"So... no matter how deep the gratitude... no matter how rich the memories... they can't compare to... a scapegoat in a defeat... no matter... a... heartless, withered tree..."

He closed his eyes and stopped looking at Shen Mu on horseback.

He stopped looking at the burning, apocalyptic world, as if all his vitality and resentment had been exhausted in this short and despairing conclusion.

The pillar of belief that had sustained him for decades collapsed completely, leaving only endless blood-red desert amidst ruins.

"Alright, have someone carry him down on a stretcher." Shen Mu raised his hand and ordered the soldiers behind him, "Give him treatment."

"clear."

As several Holy Tree Knights went to deliver the message, Swadian light infantry soon arrived carrying a stretcher.

They placed Zhang Song on a stretcher and prepared to leave.

Zhang Song lay on the makeshift stretcher, the excruciating pain making every breath feel like a knife cutting into him, but Shen Mu's words were like ice water poured into his chaotic thoughts.

He was at a loss, his mind completely blank.

I originally thought I was going to die.

Instead, they received help.

We also need to treat him.

"why?"

As the soldiers lifted the stretcher, Zhang Song weakly turned his head, his gaze fixed on Shen Mu's face, which was half-lit and half-shadowed by the firelight.

"What do you mean, why? You're a prisoner of war. Can't we treat prisoners of war well?" Shen Mu, riding on his horse, seemed to find Zhang Song's confusion and shock somewhat amusing.

Zhang Song's heart skipped a beat at the thought.

It was as if an invisible hand had gripped his heart tightly, causing tears to stream down his face.

This is an emotion composed of countless feelings, like sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, and salty.

Moreover, as they were being carried away, Zhang Song suddenly asked Shen Mu, "Excuse me, but I still want to ask, Zhang Bo, did he betray us?... Or rather, did he betray... Yang Di?"

"No." Shen Mu didn't even turn his head at this moment. Looking at the large trees in the distance, he said indifferently, "He always thought he was hiding well, but I knew from the first glance that he was not sincerely siding with me, nor was he a prophetic mage who came to me from the Diesel Company. He was a spy planted by your Green Leaf Group in the Diesel Company, and then came to my Deherim."

As he spoke, Shen Mu scoffed, "I knew from the beginning that Zhang Bo was a naive and foolish spy for the Green Leaf Group."

"..."

Shock and grief churned in Zhang Song's chest.

It turns out that Zhang Bo never betrayed anyone, but was used by Shen Mu as a pawn, jumping around in Deherem's game of chess.

Zhang Song tried to say something, but only coughed up bloody foam, and finally closed his eyes weakly.

His heart was filled with coldness. His loyalty to Yang Di, which he had devoted half his life to, had ended up being betrayed. Zhang Bo's foolish enthusiasm had earned him only contempt and ridicule from Shen Mu.

He was like a withered blade of grass, easily broken by the torrent of the times. The soldiers carried Zhang Song back into the rear medical tent, while Shen Mu withdrew his gaze, his smile freezing instantly, returning to his usual cold and domineering demeanor.

He turned to Fatis, who had been standing by his side, and said, "This Zhang Song is lucky. If we spare his life, we might be able to extract some remaining information about the Green Leaf Group."

Fatis nodded silently, a subtle complexity flashing in his eyes—Shen Mu's "humane treatment of prisoners" was nothing more than a pragmatic approach, and his lofty rhetoric of "we are all human beings of Blue Star" seemed particularly ironic on the scorched earth of Balihe.

But that's exactly Shen Mu's style.

In times of victory, a few acts of humanity are offered only to consolidate rule.

Suddenly, a muffled rumble came from the center of the village, coming from the direction of the treehouse.

A Khergit horse archer galloped up, his heavy armor glowing a dark red in the firelight. He reported in a gruff voice, "My lord! That madman Yang Di has sneaked into the treehouse and is using the wood elves' secret arts to tinker with that ancient tree, saying he wants to awaken the power of the plane! Our men can't break in—the old building is trembling, and the tree roots are flailing about like they're alive!"

Shen Mu raised an eyebrow and looked at the huge tree-trunk building that resembled an apartment building in the distance. He saw streaks of green light bursting out from the gaps, accompanied by Yang Di's frantic shouts, which faintly pierced through the sounds of battle.

The Khergit archer added, "According to our scouts, Yang Di's last few Wood Elf sword dancers are fighting desperately to defend the gate. The ancient tree is shaking, as if it's trying to stand up! They're clearly trying to turn the tide using some special method!"

Shen Mu's lips curled into a sneer: "A comeback? Trying to pull that stunt in front of me, how childish."

He waved his hand and signaled: "Notify Bandak to use the siege crossbows! Also notify Bestur to use fire arrows! That tree is just a larger pile of firewood."

Soon, soldiers went to deliver the message.

soon.

From behind, Bandak led his infantry over, and Swadian light infantry pushed along ballistae mounted on wagons.

These are the ballistae that Bandak had prepared in the wagons before, so that they could be used to attack the city at a crucial moment!
Now, it has indeed come in handy!

Ten menacing ballistae then appeared beside Shen Mu, aiming at the treehouse.

At the same time, the Khergit horse archers lit their arrows and drew their bows in unison, like fiery meteors dancing in the night sky.

Shen Mu whispered, as if speaking to himself or as a pronouncement to Yang Di: "From the very first day of the negotiations, Yang Di has been digging his own grave, pulling Zhang Song, pushing Zhang Bo, and believing those rotten trees—making one foolish move after another."

Now we've reached the final step.

The treehouse problem was solved.

The problem of Yangdi was solved.

all.

All of this will come to an end.

……

The raging flames, like greedy venomous snakes, greedily devoured the massive treehouse base.

The thick, century-old tree roots crackled and popped under the high temperature, and thick smoke mixed with sparks billowed out from the cracks in the bark, turning the inside into a scorching hell.

The air was thick with the smell of burning wood, the acrid odor of burning resin, and... a strong, nauseating stench of blood.

That was proof of the rapid demise of the few wood elf sword dancers who stayed behind in the treehouse to buy him last moments, under the heavy crossbows and fire attacks.

Yang Di huddled in the corner of the treehouse, closest to the thick trunk.

The air here was scorching hot, and the smoke was thin enough for him to see clearly the half of the wood elf rune stone he was clutching tightly in his arms, carved with intricate vine patterns—this was the final key to activating the core channel of the plane and summoning the will of the plane to descend.

It was once as smooth and lustrous as jade, shimmering with a soft green light, symbolizing the connection between vitality and a higher existence.

At this moment, it is cold and lifeless, like a discarded, stubborn stone.

"Respond to me!!"

Yang Di's roar echoed in the burning treehouse, filled with despair and resentment.

One of his legs had been grazed by a cold arrow from a Khergit horse archer, and blood stained half of his trousers. But he seemed not to feel the pain at this moment. He simply used all his strength to crawl on the ground in the most humble posture, his forehead pressed tightly against the scorching black wooden floor, as if trying to merge himself into it.

"Wood Elf Plane! Grand Elder! I beg you! Descend your power! Descend your wrath! This is the final cry of your loyal follower!!"

He screamed hoarsely, his voice broken and choked by the thick smoke, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the unresponsive rune stone: "Green Leaf Group is your pillar! It can't be destroyed like this! Shen Mu... that thief! He desecrated your glory! He destroyed your altar! Destroy him! Destroy him! As long as I can destroy him! I'm willing to offer everything! My soul! My flesh and blood!"

No response.

The whispers of those different planes that were once clearly audible and lingered in my heart, the subtle yet soothing natural pulses of life, have vanished completely.

It was as if he was facing not a bridge of communication, but a cold, absolute, and ruthless barrier that kept him out.

The forest he once managed, the wood elf bloodline he protected, and even the will of that distant plane all cruelly abandoned him.

He suddenly raised his head, his face, covered in sweat and soot, contorted with a near-collapse-like madness.

He frantically pounded on the ancient trunk in front of him, his fingernails snapping and bleeding from the rough bark.

The bark fell in flakes as he pounded it, stained with the blood on his hands. Apart from the vibrations bringing in more dust and sparks from the fire drifting in from outside, there was no response, nothing at all.

"No...it can't be...why is this happening...you can't do this to me!!!"

The final roar turned into a devastating wail.

Yang Di collapsed to the ground, as if all the strength in his body had been completely drained in an instant.

He lay curled up on the scorching floor like a wild beast with its spine broken, his body convulsing violently from extreme pain and despair.

Countless images flashed through my mind.

Yang Di had truly reached his most desperate moment; he had been completely abandoned and left with no hope of help. (End of Chapter)