Post-War Embers: Rewards Stir Up Trouble

When Chen Wuya entered the council tent, the fire in the brazier had only just caught. Flames licked at the iron rack with a faint crackle. He looked at no one, heading straight for the seat of honor and reaching for the battle report ledger on the table. Dust clung to its cover, and its corners were curled—clearly, many hands had thumbed through it.

More than a dozen people were already in the tent, sitting or standing, most of them representatives from various sects. Some stood with folded arms and cold stares; others spoke in low voices. They were not loud, yet every word bored into the ears. An elder from the southern faction was pointing at a middle-aged man from the northern faction and shouting, "You reported thirty-seven casualties? Last night, I saw your unit cowering in the rear formation with my own eyes! Your blades barely left their sheaths!"

The man sprang to his feet, his face flushing red. "Who are you saying didn't pull their weight? Our two squads lay in ambush on the eastern slope and held down the enemy's flank for a full half hour!"

"Half an hour?" another person cut in with a sneer. "How come I heard you only rushed out to claim credit after the main force had already beaten the enemy back?"

The argument abruptly rose in volume. A disciple of the Western Frontier Saber Sect sat in the corner, quietly exchanging a look with the two people beside him. The three immediately leaned together and whispered. Bai Zhi stood near the back with a stack of documents in her arms, her gaze sweeping across the tent as her brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

Chen Wuya lowered his head and opened the ledger, reading through it page by page. One entry read: