The Desolate Track Arches Across the Wilderness Sands, Heroes Test Their Blades in Astonishment

Zhao Jiu did not argue. He lowered his bow and gave a snort, signaling his agreement.

Gongshu Yuan sat behind the earthen bank without saying a word.

His eyelids remained lowered, as though he were dozing.

"Elder Gongshu," Jing Huan turned to look at him. "What insight do you have?"

Gongshu Yuan opened his eyes.

His eyes were small, their pupils clouded, like glass beads coated in a layer of dust.

Yet beneath that dust lay a clear brightness, like a lake in late autumn.

"The intelligence says that this new kind of carriage does not need horses to pull it—it can run on its own."

He spoke slowly, like an old ox hauling a broken cart, grinding out each word one at a time. "Have you considered this? If it needs no horses to pull it, then what exactly makes it run?"

"If we understand that, we can deal with them at the root. Perhaps we will not even need to take risks—we can have the archers shoot through the very thing that sustains them, and the enemy will fall into disorder on their own."

The group looked at one another.

"Didn't they say it burns something called steam?"

Han Hu blurted out, "Who cares what makes it run? It can't possibly outrun us."

Gongshu Yuan glanced at him and said nothing more.

His eyelids drooped again.

Inside his sleeve, his hand felt along his sword sheath. His fingertips traced the patterns on it, as though caressing a beloved old possession—or confirming that something was still there.

He was somewhat worried that fools like this would drag him down with them.

Jing Huan did not press Gongshu Yuan further.

He rose to his feet and cast one final glance at the rail line to the west.

The sun had