“The Red General?” The He father and son exchanged glances. “Did this Red General die before Zhong Shengguang died?”

“Zhong Shengguang commanded many fierce generals, but if we’re talking about the mightiest man on the battlefield, none could match the Red General,” Sun Fuping said, a touch of wistfulness in his voice as he recalled the great generals of the past. “In the latter twenty years, Panlong City’s steel army was essentially forged by his own hands. According to the final letters left behind by some of Panlong City’s people, his command was near divine. He dominated the battlefield and took on much of the burden that had once weighed on Zhong Shengguang. You see, Zhong Shengguang was already riddled with injuries and illnesses by his twelfth year defending the city. Just having a will of steel was not enough; he needed a body of steel, too. As the saying goes, ‘a general dies after a hundred battles.’”

“I’ve heard of this. They say that the Red General once led just a few dozen men on a scouting mission behind enemy lines, only to run into two thousand Xianyou troops head-on. What followed was a battle of a few against thousands. Almost all his men died in the fight, but the Red General only grew more ferocious. In the end, he turned the tide and drove the enemy into a rout. He chased them down almost single-handedly, creating the legendary tale of one man routing two thousand. I don’t know if he entered some sort of, uh, berserk body state…” The odd wording made a few eyebrows twitch, and He Lingchuan cleared his throat quickly. “Anyway, reinforcements arrived in time, and Panlong City secured a massive victory. There were so many stories about the Red General in Heishui City that you could talk about them for three days straight and still not finish.”

It was exaggerated, of course, but that was exactly the kind of bloody, dramatic story people loved to hear.

“That was the Battle of Heisong Pass,” Sun Fuping nodded. “Do you know when that took place?”

“Not exactly.” He Chunhua thought about it for a moment, then said, “Actually, was it around the time when peace talks between West Luo and Xianyou fell apart and Panlong City was besieged again?”

“Precisely. It was that very autumn when Xianyou resumed hostilities with West Luo, turning the Panlong Wasteland into contested territory once more and isolating Panlong City as a lone stronghold.” Sun Fuping’s tone grew solemn. “The letters I’ve read had a very curious phrase. They said the Red General ‘came into the world from the heavens above,’ stood against enemies on all sides, and steadied the hearts of the Panlong Army.”

As soon as he began narrating, He Lingchuan played along like a good listener. “Right. A man like that, a savior of Panlong City, just appears out of nowhere? Why wasn’t there any mention of him before this dramatic coming into the world from the heavens above?”

He, like most in Heishui City, was familiar with the Red General’s legends. But legends were just that. In the absence of reliable records, who really bothered to nitpick the historical details of a war that had taken place over a century ago?

Nian Songyu joined in the conversation, “The Minister of War believes that Zhong Shengguang’s rite of divine recompense came first, and the Red General’s coming into the world from the heavens above came after. The two must be connected.”

He Chunhua said thoughtfully, “So then, besides the Generous Pot, the divine aid also manifested in the form of the Red General?”

Two miracles in one war. That god was certainly generous.

“He was at least a crucial piece of it,” Sun Fuping agreed. “One of the guards who left behind a final letter wrote that the Red General departed Panlong City twice—once to West Luo, and once to Xianyou. He deeply regretted not accompanying him, saying he might’ve had a chance to return to his homeland instead of dying in the wasteland.”

The He father and son were stunned. “The Red General actually went back to West Luo?”

“But wasn’t Panlong City completely surrounded?” He Lingchuan said, clicking his tongue. “Despite that, he still managed to reach Xianyou? Wait, what did he go to Xianyou for?”

“That part we do not know,” Nian Songyu said with a shrug. “We have no records of when he went, when he returned, or what he did.”

“Even if he was the most renowned general of the past three centuries, his actions were beyond what any ordinary man could accomplish. Perhaps he was also a powerful spellcaster who had bound the entire Panlong Wasteland’s fate to his own.” Sun Fuping exhaled deeply. “But I lean more toward another theory, that the Red General was no longer human and had come to have a demigod’s body.”

“A demigod’s body?” He Chunhua blurted out in disbelief. “Are you referring to… divine descent?!”

“Exactly, divine descent!”

Even the usually composed and steady Commandery Administrator He showed a flicker of astonishment, mingled with uncertainty. However, he quickly collected himself and said, “There are only three documented cases of divine descent throughout all recorded history.” Still, given the Red General’s overwhelming battlefield feats, attributing them to divine aid somehow made things easier to believe. “It’s said that the requirements for divine descent are extremely stringent. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be so few examples of it successfully taking place.”

He Lingchuan immediately scoured the former He Lingchuan’s memories for anything on “divine descent,” but all he found were vague impressions. People often said that a meter above your head, there are gods, but true gods existed beyond the mortal realm and could not directly descend into this world.

Even so, under scarce and specific circumstances, a “divine descent” could be carried out by gods. This did not entail the god arriving in person but projecting a sliver of divine will into a human host. This was considered a form of indirect presence.

Those chosen to receive such a descent were known as demigods.

“Normally, gods don’t meddle in mortal affairs, but every rule has its exceptions,” said Sun Fuping. “In the spring of Panlong City’s thirty-second year of resistance, Xianyou and Baling joined forces, rallying five vassal states. They even requested aid from the monster state to the north, bringing in an army of six hundred monsters. Together, they launched an unprecedented assault on Panlong City. The battle was said to be so fierce that ‘even the mountains were leveled.’ The entire northern part of Mount Yindou was razed to the ground.”

“In that battle, all six hundred monsters were killed, along with their two leading monster generals. Among the seven nations’ five state preceptors, three died and one was severely wounded. As for regular troop casualties—well, there’s no need to go into detail. They say that for five years afterward, Xianyou had eight out of every ten farmlands deserted, with not enough able-bodied men left to work the fields.” Nian Songyu sighed and continued, “And that was the victor. Xianyou won that war, yet couldn’t even withstand the cost. Within a few years, the state erupted into civil strife, splintered into several smaller states, and has been plagued by war ever since.”

“According to one final letter,” Sun Fuping continued, “the Red General fell in that cataclysmic battle. Three days after his death, Panlong City fell, and Zhong Shengguang took his own life.”

“I see.” He Chunhua let out a quiet sigh. “What a pity.”

So many loyal bones buried beneath the Panlong Wasteland, and yet not enough to defy fate.

“More than a pity, it’s terrifying,” He Lingchuan murmured. “An army that took seven states to barely defeat… and now we’re facing their heroic souls. But still, no matter how powerful the Gale Army was, their success hinged on the Generous Pot. Yet Panlong City still fell in the end. Did the Generous Pot stop working?”

“That we do not know,” Sun Fuping said, spreading his hands. “There’s no record of that anywhere. Honestly, the fact that we even managed to piece this much together from the fragments we have is already a small miracle. We’re looking at a leopard through a tube. We only see a spot, not the whole beast. The truth… may never be known.”

Nian Songyu stood and stretched. “We’d best get some rest. Starting tomorrow, we might not get another good night’s sleep.”

Thus, the meeting adjourned.

The He father and son shared a small hut.

The room was tiny. It was just big enough to squeeze in two narrow beds. With both of them lying down, neither could quite stretch their legs.

Still, the bedding was surprisingly dry and fresh, likely thanks to the desert’s arid air. The floor had some sand and dust, but at least there were no pesky little critters.