The boy panted heavily, his eyes fixed on the Wuhuan prince, burning with hatred.
"What's there to be afraid of?" he shouted.
"Good!"
Zhang Xin kicked the prince to the ground, then drove his spear through the man's right shoulder, pinning him firmly to the earth.
"Ahh!"
The Wuhuan prince screamed in agony. "My lord! My lord! I know I was wrong! Spare me! I'll repay you—tenfold! I swear it!"
Zhang Xin shook his head coldly. "You don't know you're wrong. You just know you're about to die."
He drew his sword and handed it to the boy, guiding its tip toward the prince's neck. "Here. One cut—and he won't scream anymore."
The boy took the blade. His hands trembled, the tip dragging across the snow as he stepped forward.
"Spare me! Spare me!" the prince cried, his voice shaking. "My lord! My father is Wuyan! Wuyan!"
Zhang Xin ignored him.
The boy kept walking, the blade leaving a long trail behind him.
Realizing begging was useless, the prince's fear twisted into rage. "Han dogs! I am a prince of the Wuhuan! Kill me, and my people will trample Yuyang and slaughter everyone! None of you will be buried whole!"
"You bastard!"
The boy shouted, lifting the sword high with both hands.
"When you killed my father and took my mother and sister—did you think this day would come?!"
He brought the blade down.
Blood splashed.
But the strike missed the neck, cutting into the prince's chest instead. The boy was too weak; the blow wasn't fatal.
The prince shrieked again. "Young General! Spare me! I was wrong—spare me! I'll repay you—ten times over!"
Desperate, he abandoned all pride, even calling himself a "lowly one" before a child.
The boy said nothing. He raised the blade again.
"You little—!"
"Ah!"
"Spare—!"
"Ah!"
"You Han dog—you'll die—!"
Begging turned to curses, curses back to pleas, his voice growing weaker with each strike.
Zhang Xin did not intervene.
The boy hacked more than a dozen times before collapsing, gasping.
The Wuhuan prince was barely alive.
Zhang Xin stepped forward, picked up the fallen blade, and with a single clean stroke, ended it.
The boy stared at the severed head—then suddenly retched.
Zhang Xin tossed the head to Yang Yi and gently patted the boy's back. "Let it out. You'll get used to it."
After a while, the boy steadied himself. He stepped back, then dropped to his knees before Zhang Xin.
"Thank you, General… thank you…"
Zhang Xin helped him up and wiped the tears from his face. "What's your name?"
"Wang Jia."
Seeing the boy's frail body and remembering his earlier terror, Zhang Xin felt a flicker of recognition.
"From now on, follow me. What do you say?"
Wang Jia bowed deeply. "Thank you for taking me in, General."
Zhang Xin nodded, then lifted him onto the horse. "Come. Let's see if your mother and the others are still alive."
At the mention of his family, hope lit up the boy's face.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
They soon returned to where the Wuhuan had abandoned their captives.
About thirty women remained, tending to the wounded and gathering the scattered grain.
When they saw Zhang Xin's forces, they immediately knelt in gratitude.
"Mother! Sister!"
Wang Jia leapt off the horse, stumbling as he ran forward, and threw himself into a woman's arms, sobbing.
"My son!" she cried, clutching him tightly. "You're alive… you're alive…"
A young girl stood beside her, eyes wide with joy. "Little brother!"
The three embraced, weeping.
Around them, the other women watched in silence—then, remembering their own losses, began to cry softly.
Dozens of voices filled the air with grief.
Zhang Xin quickly dismounted. "Enough. Please, rise."
The women stood, their sobbing gradually easing.
Zhang Xin looked at them and spoke firmly. "Your homes are gone. Your families have no men left. I will give you two choices."
"If you wish to return, I will provide food for the winter."
"If you do not, you may follow my army. I will arrange marriages for you with deserving soldiers."
The women exchanged glances before answering in unison. "We will follow the General's arrangements."
In such chaotic times, survival mattered more than anything.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
They returned to the village.
Zhang Niujiao had already prepared a burial pit. The villagers' bodies were laid out neatly beside it.
At the sight, the women broke down once more.
Zhang Xin allowed them a final farewell before the dead were buried and the grave sealed.
Wang Jia knelt before his father's grave, whispering how he had taken revenge.
"My son," his mother said softly, wiping her tears, "it is thanks to the General that you avenged your father. In the future, you must repay him well."
"I will," Wang Jia said firmly. "Even with my life."
She nodded. "You've grown."
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
After the rites, Zhang Xin gathered the women and the soldiers who had earned merit.
He arranged them by rank and achievements, excluding those too young, and allowed the soldiers to choose.
Each time a woman was chosen, Zhang Xin asked for her consent. Only if she agreed was the match made.
Soon, most found new homes.
The chosen soldiers rejoiced; the others bore no resentment—Zhang Xin had already promised future rewards upon reaching Yuyang.
Wang Jia's mother volunteered to stay by Zhang Xin's side in gratitude. Remembering the young girl Zhang Ning, Zhang Xin accepted—she would make a suitable caretaker.
The remaining young girls were kept together as companions for Zhang Ning, ensuring she would not grow up alone among soldiers.
With everything settled, Zhang Xin led his troops onward.
Not long after, a scout rode up.
"Report! The vanguard has advanced ten miles into Yuyang!"
Zhang Xin's gaze sharpened.
"Pass my order," he said coldly. "Prepare to attack the city."