Return Without Sound

Wei Dayong frowned, but ultimately said nothing. He merely gestured for Wang Quan to follow, dragging four dazed prisoners whose legs felt like jelly. As dawn's first light struggled to break through the darkest, coldest hour, Wang Quan and Wei Dayong finally saw the silhouette of Anping County's low but silent city walls.

The city gate was shut tight. Wei Dayong painstakingly pulled out a specially made whistle and placed it to his lips, blowing three short, one long, hoarse, unpleasant notes. A torch on the city wall flickered, and after a long pause, the heavy sound of a winch turning and a gate being raised echoed. A narrow door, just wide enough for one person, creaked open a crack to the side.

The soldier guarding the gate was groggy and visibly impatient. But when the torchlight illuminated the two men outside, supporting each other, covered in blood, and reeking of intense gore and burnt flesh, followed by the four prisoners who were barely recognizable as human, the soldier's impatience instantly turned to shock and a barely perceptible disgust. He asked no questions, merely stepped aside and waved them in quickly, as if they carried some kind of unclean plague.

Passing through the dark gate passage, they stepped back into the city. The deepest darkness of pre-dawn shrouded the streets. The houses on either side stood like silent behemoths, with only scattered lights flickering in the far distance. The stone-paved road beneath their feet was cold and hard, vastly different from the muddy field paths outside the city, yet Wang Quan felt no warmth of return. Every step sent a jolt of searing pain through his chest and abdomen; every breath carried the rusty taste of blood and a bone-deep exhaustion.

The heavy iron-clad wooden door of the garrison, under the gray, pale pre-dawn sky, looked like a gaping maw ready to devour. The duty soldier recognized Wei Dayong. His gaze swept over Wang Quan and the prisoners behind them, and without a word, he silently opened the door.

The courtyard was empty. Of the four teams from yesterday, only theirs had returned, and only two men remained. The other teams might have returned long ago, or perhaps they would never return. A damp morning mist permeated the courtyard, carrying an lingering smell of mildew and a faint scent of blood.

They handed the four prisoners over to the orderlies who had rushed over. The orderlies, expressionless, strung them up with ropes like livestock and dragged them towards the dark prison cells. From beginning to end, no one spared Wang Quan and the others a second glance, no one asked about casualties, as if it were all perfectly normal.

"Go see Commander Chen," Wei Dayong's voice was hoarser now, barely squeezed from his throat. Though his chest wound had been hastily bandaged, blood was still slowly seeping through, and his face looked frighteningly pale in the morning light.

Wang Quan nodded, supporting him as they walked towards the stone house where the scarred man, Commander Chen, was located.

The stone house door was ajar, and a dim, yellow light emanated from within. Commander Chen wasn't asleep, or perhaps, a man like him didn't need much sleep. He sat behind a rough wooden table, under the light of an oil lamp, meticulously wiping his long, narrow standard-issue saber. His movements were precise, as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. The blade reflected the flickering lamplight, casting a cold sheen across his sallow face and the gruesome scar.

Hearing footsteps, he raised his eyelids. His gaze, like a cold blade, lingered for a moment on Wei Dayong's pale face and blood-stained chest, then swept over Wang Quan, the newcomer. Wang Quan was also covered in blood, his own and, more so, that of the Pig Demon. His face was pale from blood loss and exhaustion, but his eyes shone astonishingly in the lamplight, churning with unquenched killing intent, the hollowness of survival, and something deeper.

"Boss," Wei Dayong released Wang Quan's supporting arm, straightened himself with effort, and clasped his fists. The movement pulled at his wound, making his lips twitch.

Commander Chen said nothing. He set down the soft cloth he was using to wipe his saber and gestured with his eyes for Wei Dayong to speak.

Wei Dayong took a deep breath, seemingly trying to straighten his back, but the intense pain made him sway slightly. His voice, dry and rough, began, "...We reached the location and paid the Blood Tax as per regulations. The Pig Demon and Ox Demon showed no unusual behavior at first. Once they took the people, we prepared to leave."

He paused, as if recalling, or perhaps gathering strength. "But then... an accident occurred during the handover, and one of the Blood Tax prisoners died. The number was insufficient. The Pig Demon changed its mind and demanded we stay to make up the difference."

Silence filled the stone house, broken only by the occasional crackle of the oil lamp's wick. Commander Chen's face remained expressionless; even his scar seemed frozen.

Wei Dayong's Adam's apple bobbed. He continued, his voice lower, deeper, as if forced from his chest, "We refused. The Pig Demon intended to use force, to silence us. We... had no choice."

"And then?" Commander Chen finally spoke, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion, as if asking about something unrelated to him.

"Then..." Wei Dayong looked up, something flashing in his eyes—fierceness, lingering fear, or perhaps a trace of sorrow he himself hadn't noticed. "We fought back. The Pig Demon, the Ox Demon, we killed them all. We used up all the Bone Dissolving Water. No traces were left."

"Killed them all?" Commander Chen repeated, his gaze falling on Wang Quan again, this time lingering longer. "The two of you?"

"Yes," Wei Dayong lowered his gaze. "I injured my lungs and broke several ribs. He," he glanced at Wang Quan, "broke several bones and has internal injuries too."

Commander Chen remained silent for a long time. The lamplight cast their three shadows onto the rough stone wall, flickering unstably like phantoms. The air was so thick it was hard to breathe.

Wang Quan's hand, hanging by his side, clenched involuntarily. His fingernails dug deeply into the soft flesh of his palm, the sharp sting barely managing to suppress the surging, restless fire in his chest. He watched Commander Chen's face, shifting between light and shadow under the oil lamp, revealing only a calm as deep as a bottomless pool, without even a ripple. The news they had fought desperately to bring back, the blood still not dry on their bodies, the mangled corpses of their comrades, and the fear and struggle of facing death... in this cold stone house, it all seemed light, weightless.

Frustration. It felt like wet cotton stuffing his chest, heavy, yet carrying a burning humiliation with nowhere to vent. They had been sent out like pigs for slaughter, picked and threatened by monsters, even demanded as an add-on. They resisted, fought for their lives, killed the demons, and crawled back alive, and then what? It was as if they had completed a trivial task, one that might even bring trouble, waiting for a casual judgment from their superiors?

Commander Chen's gaze finally lifted from his saber, settling on Wei Dayong's face, then slowly moving to Wang Quan's tense cheek. There was no praise in his eyes, no concern, not even much scrutiny, only an almost ruthless calm.

"If the demons didn't notice two missing, or if they noticed but couldn't trace it back to you," Commander Chen's voice was not loud, but each word was clear, striking the silent air. "The garrison can pretend this never happened."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over their injuries. "If they come looking and find out. You handle it yourselves. I can't step in."

Wang Quan's heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand, then plunged into an ice cellar.

Commander Chen seemed to see the tremor in his eyes and the fleeting anger. His tone remained indifferent, but carried an undeniable, rock-solid coldness. "Your lives are in your own hands. What I can do is, if they come looking and the evidence is conclusive, threatening the garrison, threatening Anping County... is to sacrifice the pawns to save the king." He leaned forward slightly, the lamplight casting deeper shadows on his face, making the scar appear even more hideous. "Sacrificing the two of you for the temporary peace of thousands of civilians in the city. You can call me heartless, call me a coward, call me someone who doesn't value his men's lives. But here, in the Northern Frontier, in Anping County..." He paused, a weariness that transcended life and death in his voice. "Human lives are the cheapest consumables. Here, it's just a messy ledger, a transaction. The only difference is who dies first, who dies later; today it's you, tomorrow it's him. Thrown in, if it makes a sound, it wasn't a wasted death. More often, it's like a stone thrown into a cesspool, disappearing without a ripple. This is fate, a worthless life. If you can exchange it for something, it's good fortune. If not, you have to accept it."

He leaned back in his chair, picked up the saber cloth, and resumed his cold demeanor. "If you want to live, hide your tracks, become fiercer and stronger than the things that want to kill you. Otherwise, if you die, you'll just be another skeleton feeding the wild dogs outside the city walls, one less mouth to feed inside. Remember," his clouded eyes reflected no light under the oil lamp, only a bottomless exhaustion, "in this godforsaken place, no one can save you. No one can save me either. We're all stuck in the same mud pit. You reach out, I reach out, and in the end, we might just sink faster together, die more thoroughly. There are only two paths: either accept your fate, accept this life worse than a pig's, and one day be dragged out and chopped up, eaten, and at least it'll be over quickly with your eyes closed; or..."

His voice dropped to a whisper, but it cut like a dull knife, each word gouging into the heart.

"Accept that this world devours people, and then force yourself to become better at devouring than it is. You can live on your knees, but if you want to stand and live, or even just die with some dignity... the only thing you can rely on is the knife in your hand."

"Your own Bodhisattva, you must worship yourself. Your own path to survival, you must carve out with your life. This is the greatest rule of the Northern Frontier, the only way to live in Anping County."

"If you're done, you may leave. Go to the pharmacy and get two doses of Trauma Medicine and one dose of Bone-Setting Paste. You can wander the city during the day and patrol as usual at night."

Wei Dayong's lips moved, but in the end, he said nothing. He simply clasped his fists more forcefully, his body swaying almost imperceptibly as he strained his wound. "Yes, Boss."

Wang Quan followed suit, clasping his fists, his movements stiff. He supported Wei Dayong, staggering out of the suffocating stone house.