Starting with a Wei Wu soldier

As the last rays of the setting sun sank behind the western hills, lights began to illuminate Xinghuo Fortress, both inside and out.

The solemn atmosphere of the memorial service had not yet completely dissipated, and the faint smell of sandalwood and burnt paper money could still be detected in the air. But life must go on, especially after a great victory. The taut bowstring needs to be loosened, the bloodied soldiers need to be comforted, and the newly formed allies need to be further strengthened.

In the center of the fort's open space, several bonfires had already been lit. The firelight illuminated dozens of rough wooden tables that had been temporarily set up, on which were placed large earthenware bowls, wooden chopsticks, and several rare "hard dishes"—a large basin of stewed mutton, golden-brown roasted flatbread, a thick soup made with cheese seized from the Hu people, and even several jars of strong-smelling mare's milk wine confiscated from the Hu people's carts. For the fort's inhabitants, who usually subsisted on millet porridge and salted vegetables, this was a rare feast.

Chen Xing ordered that, except for those on essential guard duty, the entire fortress should celebrate that night. Soldiers, artisans, medical personnel, and even ordinary fortress residents who had performed diligently were all welcome to join the celebration. The captured and assimilated Hu people were also given extra portions of bone broth with meat and mixed grain cakes. Soon, voices rose from within the fortress, not noisy, but filled with the relief of surviving a calamity and the joy of victory.

Murong Mingyue paused slightly as she stepped into the area illuminated by the firelight.

She had changed into a clean, deep red Hu-style robe, her long hair still tied up, without any makeup, only the curved sword that had accompanied her on her long campaigns hanging at her waist. Her wounds still ached slightly, but the medicine had made them much more comfortable. Behind her followed several elders of the Murong tribe and a dozen or so warriors who were still able to move. Everyone had tidied themselves up simply, and although they could not hide their exhaustion, there was a sense of peace in their eyes.

Her gaze first fell on the order of the scene.

There was no chaotic looting as expected. People took their seats according to pre-designated areas: on the east side were the elite soldiers and garrison troops who had participated in the battle, sitting neatly in groups of ten or five, their backs straight, with their eating utensils arranged in an orderly fashion; on the west side were craftsmen, medical personnel, scribes, and other staff, sitting more loosely, but not in a disorderly manner; on the south side were representatives of ordinary fortress residents who had performed outstandingly, as well as some prominent figures among the newly arrived refugees. In the main area on the north side, several slightly larger tables were set up, clearly the seats for Chen Xing and the core group.

A dozen or so teenagers, dressed in matching gray short-sleeved shirts, moved between the tables under Li Shu's guidance, passing food and refilling soup. Though their movements were somewhat clumsy, they tried their best to be orderly. Further out, Chen Wei had arranged several patrols of garrison soldiers. They carried spears and vigilantly scanned the entire area and the direction of the dark fortress walls. They did not participate in the banquet; their role was clearly to maintain order and keep watch.

"This Lord Chen manages a banquet as if he were an army," a white-haired elder with a scarred face sighed softly beside Murong Mingyue. He was the old strategist of the Murong tribe, named Helan Sou.

"Let's see," Murong Mingyue murmured, leading her men to several tables specially reserved for them near the main seat on the north side. Along the way, many eyes turned to them—some curious, some scrutinizing, and others nodding in goodwill after fighting side-by-side the previous day. The soldiers of the Starfire Camp looked at them with less of the initial unfamiliarity and wariness, and more of an appreciation for their brave comrades.

Chen Xing was already seated in the main seat. Today, he had changed into a clean, dark blue cloth robe, without armor, and his hair was tied up with a wooden hairpin, making him appear less stern on the battlefield and more scholarly. Upon seeing Murong Mingyue arrive, he rose to greet her: "Miss Murong, everyone, please take your seats. The preparations were hasty, and the food and wine are simple, but it is a token of our appreciation. Please do not take offense."

"You're too kind, Lord. We and our men are truly honored by such hospitality." Murong Mingyue returned the greeting with a cupped hand and took her seat in the host's place. Chen Wei, Zhao Tiezhu, Wu Xuejiu, Zhou Dashan, Wang Jian, and others were also already seated at the main table.

As Chen Xing raised his bowl to signal the start of the banquet, the feast officially began.

Without any elaborate formalities, people quickly began to eat. The aroma of stewed mutton, the crispy bread, and the rich milk broth filled the air, mingled with hushed conversations and the clinking of bowls and chopsticks. Murong Mingyue noticed that even among the ordinary soldiers, no one fought over the food; most first served soup to their comrades before taking their own. When given mutton, they would often offer the fatty parts to their wounded comrades from the previous day. Such thoughtful consideration and humility in these details were truly rare among the troops she had ever seen.

Most people's bowls contained only water or light soup, while only the main table and a few meritorious soldiers had diluted mare's milk wine in their bowls. After a few rounds of drinks, the atmosphere gradually became more lively.

Zhao Tiezhu was a man who couldn't hold back his words. After a few sips of hot soup, he grinned at Murong Mingyue and said, "General Murong, your attacks yesterday were truly exhilarating! Especially the part where you scattered the barbarian cattle and sheep, that was brilliant! It threw them into disarray and saved us a lot of effort on the front lines! Come, let me, Old Zhao, toast you with a bowl!" With that, he picked up the earthenware bowl and drank it all in one gulp.

Murong Mingyue raised her bowl in acknowledgment, took a sip of the slightly sour and astringent mare's milk wine, and said, "Commander Zhao, you flatter me. Your infantry's formation is as solid as a mountain, and the effectiveness of your crossbows has truly broadened my horizons. I wonder if the fortress can manufacture such powerful crossbows?" She asked seemingly casually, but in reality, she was trying to test the military industrial capabilities of Xinghuo Fortress.

Chen Wei answered, putting down his chopsticks and speaking calmly: "The core components of the crossbow still rely on... existing stock. However, the crossbow body, bow arm, and arrows can be replicated by the workshop in the fortress. Given time, we may be able to overcome all the key challenges." He was vague, but Murong Mingyue could tell that he had at least mastered some of the manufacturing capabilities and intended to continue his research.

"I see." Murong Mingyue nodded, no longer delving into the matter, and turned to Chen Xing, "Lord Chen, at today's memorial service, I saw that your fortress had provided very generous compensation to the fallen soldiers, enshrining their memorial tablets in the ancestral hall for worship. This act of kindness is truly admirable. However, in these difficult times, food and fodder are precious, and such lavish treatment may be..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but her meaning was clear: this kind of compensation is extremely costly, how long can it last?

Chen Xing was cutting a piece of mutton with a knife when he heard this. He looked up, his gaze calm: "Miss Murong's concerns are quite valid. However, soldiers fight to the death, their blood staining the battlefield. If their affairs after death cannot be guaranteed, and their families cannot be comforted, how can the living dare to fight? The 'Order of Merit' prioritizes keeping promises. Now that the regulations for compensation have been issued, no matter how difficult it is, we must do our utmost to fulfill them. Today, we treat the deceased well precisely to encourage the living. Although food and fodder may be scarce, we must not lose the hearts of the people."

His tone wasn't impassioned, but it carried an undeniable firmness. Everyone at the table, including burly men like Zhao Tiezhu and Zhou Dashan, nodded solemnly.

Murong Mingyue's heart stirred slightly. The logic behind these words wasn't difficult, but she had never seen a force that truly lived up to it and was prepared to continue doing so. She raised her bowl: "The Fortress Master is truly righteous. Mingyue offers this soup in place of wine to those heroic souls who fought to the death without retreating."

Everyone raised their bowls in agreement.