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墨書 Inktalez
Heavy snow blanketed the land, revealing a city in the wilderness. Its area seemed considerable, but compared to the towering walls of the great cities from the Song Dynasty, the Five Nations City was more akin to a large village than a true city.
There were no moats or walls on any side; apart from a few slightly grander buildings at the center, low thatched huts were scattered everywhere. Half of these huts were built partially underground, commonly referred to as "earth cellars," which were quite common in the Northern Country. The earth cellars had been buried under five feet of thick snow, only their square rooftops visible.
Numerous earth cellars formed the shape of the Five Nations City. Long wooden stakes were set up at the entrances of the main roads to block access. Shadows moved around the stakes; they were guards from the Jin Army. They shivered in the cold, stamping their feet continuously in the snow, their boot sounds echoing clearly even from outside the city.
There weren't many guards present. It was no surprise; trudging through such heavy snow was arduous, and guarding in this weather was unnecessary. Anyone stepping into the wilderness outside would surely freeze within moments.
As night fell, Five Nations City was eerily silent. A heart-wrenching woman's cry echoed intermittently through the city, chilling to the bone and raising goosebumps.
Li Hong and Chuxuan descended outside the city and exchanged glances, both feeling an ominous sense. Li Hong communicated through thought: "I believe your Uncle Emperor should be in those central buildings. Let's go now!"
Chuxuan nodded, and the two quietly made their way into the city without alerting the Jin Army guards. In no time, they arrived at the front of those grand buildings. The most impressive one appeared to resemble an official office.
A plaque hung above the door, mostly obscured by snow. Li Hong used his Divine Consciousness to peer through the snow and discovered it bore four Chinese characters: "Central Command Office."
It seemed this was indeed the place; perhaps Zhao Huan was being held inside this Central Command Office.
Voices could be heard from within, indicating there were quite a few people—seven or eight—feasting and drinking, with women attending them.
Li Hong signaled to Chuxuan, and they approached the back courtyard. In an instant, they stood beneath a corridor outside a window. Li Hong carefully peeled back two layers of thick Cowhide Paper and shifted his gaze to look through a small opening.
Inside was warm and bustling, a stark contrast to the icy world outside.
The underground fire dragon was burning, and on a large kang to the east sat seven or eight golden men, their table cluttered with cups and plates. The large platter of lamb had been mostly devoured, leaving behind a layer of white grease. The golden men were in high spirits, laughing and chatting with each other in Barbarian Language.
Each one was holding a woman in their arms. As they chatted, they squeezed the women tightly, rubbing their greasy, unkempt beards against the women's faces, while a few others shamelessly thrust their hands, still greasy from handling the fatty lamb, directly into the women's bosoms.
The accompanying women were all dressed in coarse clothing, wearing narrow-sleeved leather jackets that were half-open despite the cold weather, exposing large portions of their pale chests. Some had already developed large bruises on their breasts from being squeezed.
Despite the pain causing them to gasp for breath, these women forced smiles on their faces, though tears glistened in their eyes, and their delicate features betrayed their distress.
Li Hong was shocked; they were Song Women!
Although he had anticipated such a situation might occur, encountering it in reality made Li Hong furious. He felt an uncontrollable urge to rush out and take action but managed to restrain himself.
The few golden men inside were seasoned veterans who sensed something was off and gradually quieted down. One of them, facing the window, exclaimed as he noticed a small hole in the paper. He pushed away the Song Woman in his arms, drew his waist knife, and jumped up, pointing at the window while shouting loudly. In the quiet snowy night, his voice sounded particularly loud.
Outside in the courtyard came the sound of heavy boots and clashing blades.
Li Hong's anger surged; he thought about making an example of them. However, he heard Chuxuan's voice in his mind: "Remember our important task. I advise you not to get angry over this; such things happen frequently here. Let's leave." He sighed deeply and turned to fly out of the courtyard.
The few golden generals rushed out of the house but found it completely empty; the thick snow piled up to five feet was smooth as a mirror, with not a single shadow in sight. They thought they must be seeing things and muttered a few words before going back inside to find more amusement.
In a vacant courtyard behind them, Li Hong took several deep breaths of the icy air to gradually calm his chest-tightening anger.
Chuxuan also felt troubled; although he didn’t know the exact names of those accompanying women, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that one of them looked particularly familiar. He quickly dismissed a terrifying thought and transmitted to Li Hong: "We must find someone who speaks Chinese to clarify where Uncle Emperor and Empress Dowager are located. We need to act quickly; this place is unbearable for me. Let’s finish our business and leave."
Li Hong nodded distractedly, feeling flustered.
The commotion just now was quite loud. Li Hong activated his Divine Consciousness to listen carefully and discovered that there were people in the neighboring courtyard discussing something quietly. To his surprise, they were speaking in Han language.
It must be them! Li Hongyu climbed over the wall and quickly found the direction from which the voices were coming.
It seemed to be a woodshed where the servants lived. The building was low and appeared dilapidated, swaying precariously. The roof creaked under the thick layer of snow, threatening to collapse at any moment. Li Hong hurried to the broken-down house, gently pushed the door, and found it was not locked.
Inside, two people were speaking softly. Suddenly, feeling the wind and snow rush in, they looked up and saw an extra person in front of them, startling them into almost screaming.
Li Hong was quick and agile; he leaped forward to cover their mouths and warned in a low voice, “I am from South. Do not make a sound! Answer my questions truthfully, or you will not know how you died!”
Upon hearing “from South,” the two men were not frightened but rather delighted. Their eyes sparkled with joy as they nodded vigorously despite being unable to speak.
It seemed they were indeed Song People. Li Hong then felt relieved and let go of them, stepping back to observe.
The two appeared to be servants, with scraggly gray hair hanging down and entangled with their white beards, obscuring most of their faces. It was hard to tell what they looked like; he could only vaguely see that they were two old men.
Both were dressed in rags; their torn clothes had lost all color and were nearly in tatters. They wrapped themselves in pieces of sheepskin for warmth against the wind. Upon closer inspection, their tattered garments resembled the straight-cut attire commonly worn by Han People, but they were so worn out that it was difficult to recognize their original style. From beneath their ragged hems peeked unshorn sheepskin trousers and tattered woolen boots. They looked even poorer than beggars.
The broken house had no fire lit inside; it was as cold as an ice cellar. Both men had blue-purple skin from the cold. In the entire dilapidated room, there was only a broken wooden bed piled with tattered sheepskin; this pile still held some shape, indicating that these two were using it for warmth in this frigid weather.
The door moved slightly as Chuxuan entered, quickly turning around to close it tightly behind him.
One of the men immediately turned his gaze toward Chuxuan, growing increasingly astonished. Suddenly, he bowed deeply, lowering his body completely as he said, “Zhong San Da Fu, Minister of Rites Assistant Wu Qingyu greets the Crown Prince of Yun.”
Chuxuan was taken aback: “You recognize me?”
Wu Qingyu raised his head, tears shimmering in his eyes. "The Prince of Yun resembles you greatly. After many years, the Prince has grown up and appears even more impressive than he did back then."
Chuxuan did not expect to encounter an old acquaintance from the court here and hurriedly helped him up. The two exchanged glances, and Wu Qingyu looked at Chuxuan with tears streaming down his face, choked with emotion.
Li Hong sighed deeply. Minister of Rites Assistant Wu Qingyu held a high official title, already at the fifth rank. He must have been captured alongside Zhao Huan and Zhao Ji, officials from the Song Dynasty.
As they spoke, the man introduced himself as Feng Zhongxun, also a captured official from the Song Dynasty. Upon hearing his title, Li Hong felt even more sorrowful; he was actually of a higher rank than Wu Qingyu, serving as Herald of the State, National University Supervisor, and Hanlin Academy Scholar—a true Third-Rank Official of noble status.
These two former high-ranking officials from the Song Dynasty now lived in conditions worse than beggars, residing in a dilapidated hut that let in wind from all sides. Without any fire to keep warm, they huddled together with tattered sheepskins, suffering from cold and hunger. It was no wonder that the thirty or forty people there looked as aged as seventy or eighty-year-olds.
Since they were all Song people and had been captured alongside Zhao Ji and Zhao Huan, Li Hong decided to speak frankly.
Wu Qingyu clasped his hands together in gratitude and said softly, "Thank the heavens and thank the South; after so many years, we finally await your arrival! I know where the Sovereign is—just ten miles west of the city on a small hillside. There is a hidden cellar where the Sovereign is being held." His voice dropped further as he solemnly warned, "Celestial Master, you must not be careless; it is said that those guarding the Sovereign are like you."
Li Hong's heart skipped a beat as he quickly asked, "What do you mean by that?"
"I happen to know the legend of the National Guardian Master; you came from an immortal mountain overseas and possess true abilities. However, there are also such individuals at the Sovereign's location. They are said to be the National Guardian Masters of the Golden Dog," Wu Qingyu's trembling voice was barely above a whisper, revealing his fear.
Li Hong glanced at Chuxuan, and both exchanged a serious look.
The National Guardian Masters of the Golden Dog—could they be affiliated with the Demon Sect? Had they truly intervened in mortal realm affairs? Chuxuan had not miscalculated!
Initially thinking that this rescue would be a minor affair, they realized that any connection to the Demon Sect could not be taken lightly. It seemed that rescuing Zhao Huan would involve a tough battle. Before that, however, they needed to clarify the whereabouts of Empress Wei and Consort Empress; it was likely that women were not closely guarded and should be arranged for escape first.
Upon hearing that they needed to rescue Empress Wei and Consort Empress first, Wu Qingyu and Feng Zhongxun immediately hesitated, their eyes flickering with unease.
Li Hong recalled the scene with the Song Woman earlier, and an uncomfortable thought arose in his mind.
Chuxuan said coldly, "We need to give South an explanation. No matter what happens, we must go take a look."
Wu Qingyu exchanged glances with Feng Zhongxun again, and both slowly nodded at each other, clearly having made up their minds.
Feng Zhongxun whispered, "We know where Empress is. Please follow us. However, do not be surprised by any noise you hear."
Li Hong nodded and urged them not to make a sound. He and Chuxuan each took one of them and soared over the high wall, gracefully landing in the snow-covered alley outside. They quickly turned several corners under guidance and arrived in front of a large courtyard.
This was nearly the last decent building in Five Nations City, and the courtyard was quite spacious. There was no one at the entrance, but loud noises came from inside the gate. A few drunken Jin Army guards were engaged in unspeakable acts. The women were pressed down tightly, their throats emitting miserable sounds, barely able to cry out.
Wu Qingyu turned away in despair and pointed inside with a trembling hand.
A white wooden plaque hung at the entrance with only three words: Laundry House.
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