Iron Wall City Ruins, Eastern Hillside.
Li Xuan went alone.
From Crimson Firmament Mountain to Iron Wall City, it took four days on horseback.
The horse had been borrowed from the sect's Logistics Hall. It was old—not fast, but steady.
He rode across the Northern Territory plains, where grayish-yellow earth stretched all the way to the horizon.
The wind came from the north, carrying the scent of dust and sand—dry, faintly cool.
At dusk, he saw the outline of Iron Wall City.
More than half the city walls had collapsed. What remained stood like a row of broken teeth, jutting crookedly from the ground.
Inside the city, only ruins remained. Windblown sand had buried half the streets, leaving rooftops and chimneys exposed.
He tied his horse to a stone beneath the city wall and walked up the eastern hillside.
The grave had been newly built.
It was made of bluestone, not tall, but neatly constructed.
The tombstone was engraved: Tomb of General Zhenbei Wang Meng.
A bundle of withered wildflowers rested on the stone platform before it. He did not know who had left them there; their color had long since faded beyond recognition.
Li Xuan stood before the tombstone for a while.
He crouched, uncorked the flask of strong liquor, and poured it onto the earth before the grave.
The liquor seeped into the gray-yellow soil, leaving behind a dark wet stain.
"The Northern Territory wasn't lost," he said.
The wind came from the north, sweeping up the scent of liquor and scattering it.
He rose to his feet and looked at the words on the tombstone.
General Zhenbei. He did not know whether Wang Meng had liked that title.
When he had first arrived in Iron Wall City thirteen years ago, he had only been a deputy general.