Deer Terrace Conceals Thunder-Fire Traps, Awaiting Scattered Bones to Cover with Artemisia and Moss

In the commander's hall of Pinggang City, a faint wisp of pine smoke burned atop the desk. The smoke curled upward, dispersing the stuffiness within the tent and bringing a touch of leisurely calm.

Meng Wu wore a black robe of everyday clothes, washed until it was neat and soft, its fabric embroidered with subtle dark patterns. Without armor wrapped around him, he had shed that icy killing aura, gaining instead the steady refinement of a commander-in-chief.

He sat upright before the desk, his fingertips lightly tapping the rim of a clay cup. The warm milk tea within gave off a faint creamy fragrance. He sipped it unhurriedly, his expression calm, as though he had not taken the clamor of war beyond the city walls to heart at all.

Across the hall, Qin Yue wore a sharp gray cloth combat outfit, its hem cinched at his waist and making his posture seem all the more tall and straight as a pine.

He held a cup of tea that had long since gone lukewarm in both hands, yet had not taken a single sip. A deep crease furrowed his brow, and the unhidden worry in his eyes hung like a thin mist that refused to disperse.

Ever since abandoning Yan for Qin and entering Meng Wu's command, Qin Yue had devoted himself to assisting the commander in gathering the surrendered Yan Army soldiers and handling the aftermath in Donghu. From settling herdsmen to arranging the defenses of strongholds, large and small, he handled everything personally.

Though he was a surrendered general, he had always fulfilled his duties with utmost diligence, not daring to slacken in the slightest.

He had long heard that Meng Wu governed his army with strict discipline and planned his campaigns from within the command tent. His heart