It was the dead of night, and the bright moon hung high in the sky.
In the Xin Tribe's military camp atop Qingqing Gorge, the complete withdrawal of the militia had left the entire camp utterly silent.
Before long, a soldier who had gotten up to use the latrine lifted the tent flap and stepped outside, only to sense something strange.
The main camp was simply too quiet—so quiet that it was frightening.
The militia who should have been patrolling the camp had disappeared, and even the militia standing guard had vanished.
The man immediately grew frightened. He had originally intended to relieve himself, but now he no longer dared. Clutching his stomach, he ran back. The moment he crawled into the tent, he began shouting for everyone.
"Everyone, get up! Get up! Something's wrong outside!"
Someone rubbed his eyes, rolled over on his mat, and replied drowsily, "What's wrong? Huh? You're a grown man, yet you don't even dare relieve yourself alone? It's not as if there's no one patrolling the camp. What are you afraid of? Could the Han Tribe have run all the way here to chop off your head?!"
At the mention of chopping off heads, the man instinctively touched his own neck, then said even more anxiously, "Something really is wrong! Get up and take a look. There isn't a single person patrolling outside, and even the guards are gone. The whole camp looks completely empty."
"What? There's no one in the camp? Maybe those patrolling soldiers are hiding somewhere and slacking off. Or perhaps they've tucked themselves away in a corner for a nap?"
"I don't know either. Hurry and come with me to take a look."
"Ugh! Honestly, can't a man even sleep in peace? Fine, I'll go look with you. If nothing's