Before him was a raging inferno that had long spiraled out of control, yet Mu Yunhe charged in without hesitation.

Just as the flames were about to engulf him completely, Xin Wu and a few generals pulled him back with all their might, pinning him to the ground. His face was covered in soot, and the clothes under his armor were already singed.

The soldiers were in a frenzy, some fetching water, others forming a human chain. None of them had anticipated that a small military medic tent catching fire would cause the commander to lose his composure like this.

“Why didn’t you save the people first!” Xin Wu shouted angrily.

The soldiers, trembling, replied, “They said they saw Officer Qiu leave. There shouldn’t have been anyone in the tent…”

“Then where is Officer Qiu now? Where did he go?”

The soldiers looked at each other but couldn’t answer. It was clear no one had seen Bai Fanlu.

The fire had started from the military medic tent, likely due to a spark from the medicine stove inside. By the time it was discovered, most of the tent was already ablaze. Given the southeast wind, the fire quickly spread to the soldiers’ tents, the munitions depot, and the grain storage.

Only a few people had been left behind at the camp due to today’s battle. With limited manpower, they prioritized extinguishing the fires at the munitions depot and grain storage to minimize losses.

It was broad daylight, and no one expected there to be anyone in the medic tent. Even if someone had been inside, they would have called for help or fled as soon as the fire started.

Xin Wu clung to a shred of hope, praying that no one was inside the tent.

“General, Officer Qiu shouldn’t be in there. Please stay calm. The fire would have taken some time to spread, and he knows how to protect himself.”

To Xin Wu, Bai Fanlu was just an ordinary medic officer. Although he had been personally brought to the camp by Mu Yunhe, there hadn’t been any special attention given to him. Xin Wu assumed that Mu Yunhe’s anxiety stemmed from his equal concern for all his soldiers.

But Xin Wu never imagined that Mu Yunhe would be this distraught—his eyes were practically red with panic. He had never seen him like this, not even when they were trapped earlier, where Mu Yunhe had remained calm and composed.

While Xin Wu could maintain his cool, Mu Yunhe was utterly overwhelmed.

He could face the sky falling without flinching, but the possibility that someone might still be inside that tent was unbearable. He had to see for himself, had to confirm with his own eyes that there was no one inside.

“I have to go in. Let me in…”

Mu Yunhe’s voice was low, trembling with the desperate plea of a trapped animal.

“General, the fire is too intense; you can’t go in. We need to wait until it’s burned out before we can check…”

“What are you talking about!” Xin Wu cut off the speaker. “General, there’s no one in there, trust me. I’ll send people to search for Officer Qiu. Knowing we’ve returned victorious, he might already be tending to the wounded.”

“Yes, yes, how could we forget? Officer Qiu always goes there first. Go, find him quickly! Report back immediately if you find him…”

“No need to report back!” Mu Yunhe suddenly stood up, forcefully shaking off the generals holding him down. “I’ll go find him myself!”

Seeing that Mu Yunhe had finally shifted his focus from the burning tent, Xin Wu quickly followed him to search among the wounded at the rear of the army.

The wounded were sitting on the open ground, being examined by medics according to the severity of their injuries. The severely injured were sent to the recovery tent, while the lightly injured were treated on the spot and allowed to return to their tents to rest.

But from a distance, Xin Wu could see the old military doctor and his apprentice, but no sign of Bai Fanlu.

Rushing ahead, Xin Wu asked the old doctor, “Wasn’t Officer Qiu with you?”

The old doctor shook his head, “No, we came back with the army. Wasn’t Officer Qiu at the camp?”

Mu Yunhe said nothing and turned toward the recovery tent. Xin Wu signaled to the generals, who stayed close to Mu Yunhe.

The severely wounded had already been moved into the tent, but aside from soldiers, there was no one else inside.

Xin Wu’s heart sank as he discreetly observed Mu Yunhe’s expression, sensing that something was wrong.

“General, it’s possible he’s elsewhere. I’ll send people…”

Before he could finish, Mu Yunhe clenched his fist at his side, then suddenly turned and ran toward the burning medic tent. Xin Wu and the generals immediately chased after him.

But Mu Yunhe was too fast, knocking into several people along the way without stopping.

In the end, Xin Wu could only watch as Mu Yunhe threw himself back into the flames, ignoring the soaked cloak the soldiers handed him.

Xin Wu grabbed the cloak, wrapped it around himself, and picked up another one before following him into the fire.

The tent was small, and Xin Wu quickly spotted Mu Yunhe inside.

The raging flames licked at his body, but he seemed oblivious, crawling on the ground, searching for something. Xin Wu rushed over and threw the cloak over Mu Yunhe’s head, desperately trying to pull him out.

“General!”

Mu Yunhe broke free from him and threw himself toward a spot on the ground.

It was only then that Xin Wu noticed the figure lying there—a person burned beyond recognition.

The person was pinned under a charred wooden frame, and Mu Yunhe, with his bare hands, pushed it aside, letting out a furious roar as he flung it away. He then cradled the body, refusing to let go.

Even then, he continued searching the body for something.

The tent had been burning for too long, and it was on the verge of collapse. Xin Wu was frantic, “We have to go, now!”

Mu Yunhe finally grasped a hand—a wrist adorned with a jade bracelet, the green hue stark against the blackened, blistered skin.

But when Mu Yunhe’s bloodied hand clasped the bracelet, the wrist it encircled snapped off.

Mu Yunhe held onto the bracelet tightly, his entire body trembling violently.

“General!”

No matter how Xin Wu called out to him, Mu Yunhe remained unresponsive, utterly devastated as if he had lost his mind.

Xin Wu was at his wit’s end. He dared to punch Mu Yunhe in the face, hoping to separate him from the corpse, but Mu Yunhe shuddered and then lunged back.

His cloak fell off, and his body was exposed to the searing heat.

Driven to desperation, Xin Wu shouted at the top of his lungs, “Mu Yunhe! Get a hold of yourself! If you still think of me as your uncle, think of your mother, think of the brothers outside. How can you be like this—”

Seeing that Mu Yunhe was unmoved, Xin Wu angrily cursed, choking on the thick smoke, “So you don’t care about any of that anymore? Fine! But think about this person—think about how they died?”

“Think about how this fire started. Do you really believe it was that simple? If you won’t avenge them, then are you just going to sit here and wait to die?”

“You—”

Before Xin Wu could finish, Mu Yunhe suddenly broke free from his grip, picked up the corpse, and dashed out.

He didn’t say a word. Even though it was clear the person was already dead, he still covered them with the cloak and charged through the flames.

Xin Wu was overjoyed, following close behind. But as soon as they emerged from the tent, he watched in horror as Mu Yunhe’s tall figure swayed twice before collapsing with a heavy thud.

Even in his unconscious state, he clung tightly to the body, and it took the combined effort of several men to pry his hands open.

Mu Yunhe remained unconscious for three days and nights. His burns were severe, and he lost three fingers on his left hand. His once handsome face was now half-destroyed.

When he finally woke three days later, the first thing he asked revealed that his voice had also been destroyed—what had once been a clear and bright voice was now rough and hoarse. Half his face was wrapped in bandages, and in such a short time, the once valiant young general had become a shell of his former self.

His first question was, “Where is he?”

Xin Wu knew who he meant, “He’s been buried.”

How they managed to pry the body from Mu Yunhe’s grasp was something Xin Wu never wanted to recall. Fortunately, Mu Yunhe didn’t ask. Instead, he said, “Have you determined the cause of the fire?”

“Yes, it started inside the tent, apparently due to the medicine stove tipping over. But we found a Nanman spy in the camp. It was their doing. The grain storage was too heavily guarded, so they targeted the medic tent as a diversion, intending to draw people there to put out the fire and then burn the grain.”

“And the spy?” Mu Yunhe asked.

“Still imprisoned,” Xin Wu replied.

Mu Yunhe’s hand clenched tightly by the bedside. “Tear him apart.”

“…Yes, sir.”

Xin Wu sighed inwardly. Mu Yunhe had never given such a brutal order before. He had always led with a balance of strictness and leniency. Even when executing prisoners, he ensured it was done swiftly. His leadership had quickly earned him the loyalty of his men, reminiscent of his father’s command.

Who exactly was this Officer Qiu?

Xin Wu had pondered this question repeatedly. As the close friend of the late General Mu, Xin Wu was naturally aware of Mu Yunhe’s marriage, although he had never met the bride. He had only heard that Mu Yunhe had married a woman who was both blind and mute, with a scar on her face, who always kept her face covered at the royal residence. However, there were rumors that the uncovered half of her face was extremely beautiful.

Blind, yet beautiful…

Xin Wu suddenly recalled a night when he had seen Mu Yunhe lingering outside the medic tent. At the time, he had thought it odd and assumed the young general had some sort of ailment he was embarrassed to discuss with the doctor.

Could it be—?

Once this bold hypothesis formed, all of Mu Yunhe’s unusual behaviors suddenly made perfect sense.

“General Xin,” a voice called out, snapping Xin Wu from his thoughts.

He straightened up. “At your command, General.”

“Pass down my orders: From today onward, the entire army will mobilize. We will conquer Nanman within a month.”

Mu Yunhe’s tone was calm, but his hoarse voice sounded like it came from the depths of hell. Xin Wu’s heart filled with unease, but knowing the truth now, he also felt a deep sorrow.

“Yes, General.”

As Xin Wu left the tent, he glanced back at the solitary figure of Mu Yunhe sitting on the edge of the bed, still clutching that jade bracelet. When he had fallen to the ground on that day, the bracelet had shattered into two pieces.

What a pity.

Conquering Nanman within a month was an almost impossible task.

But that was only if one fought a typical battle. Xin Wu now understood that this goal was achievable because Mu Yunhe was fighting with reckless abandon.

He no longer cared about his own life, charging into battle at the forefront. His soldiers didn’t need to risk their lives for him because Mu Yunhe, single-handedly, could sweep through three thousand enemy soldiers. Taking the enemy general’s head was as easy for him as retrieving something from his own pocket.

The phrase “killing gods and demons alike” wasn’t enough to describe him. The key was that he no longer feared death, nor did he fear injury. No matter how many swords or spears pierced his body, nothing could stop him.

The name “Hell General” soon spread within the Nanman territory, where his very mention struck fear into the hearts of his enemies. They knew that as soon as his single eye—half of his face now covered by a fearsome bronze mask—glanced their way, they were doomed to collapse in terror and beg for mercy.

Nanman was conquered quickly—within less than a month.

By then, the Mu family matriarch had received Xin Wu’s letter and had finally arrived.

But what she found was a son who, after avenging a great injustice, had lost all will to live, spending his days drunkenly mourning at a gravesite, never once sober. His ruined face was now hidden beneath a horrifying mask, his left hand left with only two fingers, barely able to hold a wine jar. His one intact right hand still gripped the two pieces of the shattered jade bracelet, its sharp edges nearly embedded in his flesh.

The sight tore at the heart of the Mu family matriarch.

“Sister-in-law, what exactly happened?” Xin Wu asked quietly.

The matriarch sighed, “Lin Qiu was Yunhe’s wife.”

With this confirmation, Xin Wu found himself at a loss for words. To be newlywed and then face such a tragic loss—no wonder Mu Yunhe was so distraught.

“Yunhe was particularly fond of him. Lin Qiu was a rare and good-hearted child. How could such a thing happen…”

The matriarch sighed again, “It was a marriage decreed by fate. Xin Wu, do you remember the Taoist priest?”

“The Taoist priest?” Xin Wu thought for a moment. “Sister-in-law, are you referring to the priest who once made predictions for the late General?”

“Yes, him.”

The matriarch continued, “When Yunhe was ten years old, the priest came to our home again. He saved Yunhe’s life and arranged this marriage, saying that Lin Qiu was Yunhe’s destined star of fortune. When Yunhe turned twenty-two…”

“Ah!” The matriarch suddenly realized something. “Why didn’t I think of this sooner!”

“Sister-in-law?”

Xin Wu was puzzled, watching as the matriarch crouched beside Mu Yunhe, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Son, Lin Qiu might not be dead.”

Mu Yunhe seemed not to hear her, continuing to gulp down his wine.

“I’m serious. Your twenty-second birthday hasn’t arrived yet. He wouldn’t just die like this.”

Mu Yunhe’s shoulders trembled slightly. He turned his dazed gaze toward the matriarch.

She noticed a glimmer of light in his eye, a fragile hope that he clung to desperately, fearing it might slip away. The sight filled her with overwhelming pity, bringing tears to her eyes.

“Son, that body can’t be Lin Qiu. Your birthday hasn’t come yet. He cared so much about your life; he wouldn’t just leave like this.”

With a clatter, the wine jar fell to the ground.

The matriarch held Mu Yunhe’s mangled left hand, fighting back her tears. “Son, trust your mother. I wouldn’t lie to you. Lin Qiu must still be alive…”

“Yes… yes…” Mu Yunhe began to cry and laugh at the same time. “How could Lin Qiu be dead? He always remembered my birthday… He wouldn’t leave me like this… He must still be alive… still alive…”

Large tears began to roll down his one clear eye. Xin Wu watched, his heart aching.

Since that day, that eye had been filled only with hatred. When had he last seen him cry like this, like a child?

Crying and laughing at the same time, Mu Yunhe continued, “Lin Qiu isn’t dead. Why am I crying? It’s so pathetic… If he knew, he’d scold me…”

The laughter was no longer clear, but rough and sorrowful, like a saw cutting through one’s heart. The matriarch could no longer bear it, pulling him into an embrace, sobbing, “My poor son, my poor son.”

“Yes, I’m really foolish… haha…”

Mu Yunhe seemed to come to his senses now. He realized how foolish he had been, but he couldn’t stop the large tears from streaming down his face. He murmured, “Mother, I want to find him.”

“Alright, I’ll go with you to find him.”

Mu Yunhe nodded lightly, his hand still rubbing the jade bracelet, as if it still carried the warmth of that person.

Lin Qiu… wait for me. I will find you.

He prayed in his heart, hoping that his voice could pierce through all obstacles and reach that person’s ears.