Post-Battle Tally, A Bountiful Harvest

The vulture had barely set its claws on the corpse's shoulder when Chen Wuya kicked it away. The bird flapped twice and took off, landing on a charred rock some distance away, its head cocked as it stared at him.

He did not spare the beast another glance, turning instead toward the center of the battlefield. Bai Zhi had already directed the soldiers to escort the captives to the open ground at the bottom of the valley. They were tied to wooden stakes in groups of five, heads hanging low, armor in tatters. Enemy corpses lay strewn across the ground, blood soaking into the sand and darkening it.

"Take inventory first," he said. His voice was not loud, yet it carried far.

A squad leader hurried forward. "General, we found three buried mechanisms while moving the bodies. We haven't touched them yet."

Chen Wuya nodded and crouched, pressing his palm to the ground. Misaligned Force seeped out like a thin current, slowly pushing through the sandy layers. Before long, his fingers twitched, and he circled three spots. "Tripwires here, with detonators underneath. There's a poison box buried below this spot—it sprays the moment someone steps on it. And over there is a trapdoor leading to the bottom of the ravine."

The sappers immediately gathered around, prying up stones and removing bolts. Chen Wuya rose and swept his gaze over the piled weapons and miscellaneous supplies. "Divide everything into five categories—weapons, provisions, medicinal herbs, documents, and captives. Assign someone to register each category. Don't mix them together."

Bai Zhi answered and left at once. Before long, she had marked out five areas and ordered the men to sort and transport the items. Her movements were crisp and efficient. As she walked, she asked, "How should we interrogate the captives?"

"No rush."