My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

The elder's voice choked for a moment, "From that one glance, I knew he might not make it out."

Zhao Tieshan stood there, looking at the dark little opening, then suddenly squatted down and placed his palm on the stone wall.

The stone was very cold, chillingly cold.

His eyes reddened, but he didn't cry.

He raised his head and looked at the clan elder: "Clan elder, did the Martial Saint Lin leave any messages?"

The elder shook his head. "He left nothing behind. He was a man who never liked to talk throughout his life."

He wasn't talkative when he was young, and he's even less so now that he's old. If you ask him anything, he'll just smile and remain silent.

Zhao Tieshan stood up, turned around, and looked down at the ginseng-picking village below the mountain.

Under the moonlight, the rooftops of the village were dark and one after another, like a group of wild beasts crouching on the ground.

He stared at the rooftops and the dim yellow light shining from the windows for a long time.

Then he said, "Lin Wusheng is gone, but the village is still here. He guarded the village his whole life, and now it's our turn."

Sun Dayong nodded.

Qian Laosan nodded as well.

Liu Heizi muttered, "Hmm."

Zhou Xiaoqi turned around, her eyes red, and nodded vigorously.

The elder, leaning on his cane, looked at these people, his eyes reddening.

He didn't say anything, but turned around and slowly walked down the mountain.

The cane tapped against the bluestone slab, a slow, heavy thud in the night wind.

Zhao Dazhu followed behind, wanting to help him, but he waved his hand and walked on his own. The moonlight shone on his hunched back, making his white hair shine brightly.

Zhao Tieshan stood there, watching the elder's figure disappear into the moonlight, and then looked at the dark little opening.

He bent down, picked up a stone from the ground, placed it at the entrance of the cave, then turned around and followed them down the mountain.

The others followed suit.

When Sun Dayong left, he also left a stone.

Qian Laosan was released, Liu Heizi was released, and Zhou Xiaoqi was released as well.

Several small, low stones were piled up at the entrance of the cave, like a grave.

The moon slowly climbed overhead, the night wind stopped, and the bushes ceased swaying.

The stone wall stood there silently, with vines hanging down, covering the small hole.

I can't see anything.

......

Moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the wooden table in the room, the unfolded paper, and Zhou Yan's furrowed brow.

The paper is Xuan paper, which A-Luo bought from the only general store in the village, saying that she usually uses it for writing and drawing.

The paper was a little yellowed and the edges were frayed, but for Zhou Yan, this was the best he could get.

He held a calligraphy brush, its tip hovering above the paper, not falling for a long time.

A falcon perched on his right shoulder.

It wasn't big, a bit larger than a pigeon, with grayish-brown feathers all over its body, tightly folded, and its claws gripping firmly onto the clothes on his shoulder.

Its eyes are golden, with pupils shrunken into tiny black dots, staring intently at the jujube tree outside the window.

A small bamboo tube was tied to its leg. The tube was empty, and the letter inside was spread out on the table.

These are the family's messenger birds, used to send secret messages. These messenger birds have some special bloodline abilities; once bound to a person, they can slowly find that person even if they are thousands of miles apart.

However, he himself is relatively weak, so he is easily killed.

It is truly remarkable that these homing birds can reach these mountains.

During the day, perhaps because his injuries were still healing, he was very sleepy and kept his eyes closed while resting.

He could faintly hear laughter and chatter coming from the courtyard, but he ignored it.

It's nothing more than trivial family matters.

It wasn't until late afternoon, when the bird appeared, that Zhou Yan was awakened.

Zhou Yan read the letter again.

The handwriting is very dense and written in a hurry; in some places the ink has bled and is not very clear.

But he didn't need to see it clearly; he had already read it three times and memorized every word.

"The family already knows about the attack on the Marquis. The situation in the court has changed drastically, the imperial power has fallen into the hands of others, and the emperor can only control the capital region and the three surrounding prefectures."

The other prefectures were either militarily independent or fighting amongst themselves, and the imperial court was powerless to restrain them. Fortunately, the two prefectures under the Marquis's jurisdiction were held firm by his old troops and were temporarily unharmed.

However, surrounding forces have begun to encroach on the border, and we fear we cannot hold out for long. If Your Excellency is safe, please return immediately. If you are too wounded to travel, please inform us of your location, and we will risk our lives to bring you to your aid.

Zhou Yan put down the letter, leaned back in his chair, and let out a long breath.

Imperial power has fallen into the wrong hands.

He had long anticipated this day, but he didn't expect it to come so soon.

His father often said that the emperor was young, the maternal relatives held power, and the regional warlords were separatist; sooner or later, the country would be in chaos.

He was young then and thought his father was exaggerating.

Now that my father is gone, the world is truly in chaos.

As for him, Marquis Anyuan, he was being hunted down and hid in this small village in the Ten Thousand Mountains, not daring to even leave the house.

The falcon moved its claws, shifted its position, and its golden eyes remained fixed on the view outside the window.

It had been waiting all day for him to finish writing his reply so it could take it back.

Zhou Yan picked up his pen, dipped it in ink, and began to write.

His handwriting is very steady, each stroke is neat and orderly, showing no sign of panic.

This is what his father taught him—the more urgent the situation, the more steadily he must write.

When your handwriting is steady, your mind will be steady.

"I am well, and my injuries have mostly healed. Don't worry about me."

He paused, looked at the few lines of text, and felt they were too light.

His family, his old subordinates who fought alongside his father, and his brothers who risked their lives for him—what they needed wasn't "Don't worry," but "I'm back."

But he can't go back now.

He didn't even dare to leave this village; those who were chasing him might still be nearby, still searching.

He couldn't gamble with his own life, nor could he gamble with the lives of those who came to pick him up.

He continued writing.

"The people chasing me are suspected to be connected to a powerful figure in the court. We have no clue who it is yet. You should also be careful over there and not make any rash moves."

I'm safe here for now. I'll figure out a way to go back once my injuries are fully healed. As for the two prefectures, you two hold on for as long as you can.

If you can't hold out, retreat. Evacuate everyone to a safe place. Don't fight to the death. As long as you're alive, you hold the territory. If you're gone, you've lost everything.

He stopped writing here.

He looked out the window at the moon, its light already very strong, cascading down like a waterfall.

He thought of his dead guards, those who had fought alongside him all the way out.

They stood behind him, falling one by one, not one of them backing down.

He couldn't even bring back their remains; he could only leave them on that mountain road, to be left to those who were chasing him.

His eyes stung a little, but he didn't let the tears fall.

He took a deep breath and continued writing.