By daybreak, Daoist Chonghe had sat in the pavilion all night. On the stone table before him lay several wooden sticks of varying lengths, neatly arranged. All night, he had resisted the urge to seize them and cast them beneath the twin moons.
Over the preceding days, especially since the middle of the month, even the young men of Chang'an could sense something amiss. Great Ying's last core fighting force, along with its emperor, the Great Grandmaster himself, was pinned in Guanzhong, able only to waste away the days waiting for results from the other battlefields... The impotence of this defensive posture alone was enough to shake everyone's resolve, particularly when the other fronts were generally on the defensive too. Any defeat would inflict irreversible damage on all of Great Ying.
Under these circumstances, with the earlier letters urging surrender added to the mix, peace inside and outside Chang'an would truly have required the White Emperor to possess divine wisdom and martial prowess, the Four Sovereigns reborn.
For Daoist Chonghe, however, judging the situation entered a more mysterious realm... As a Great Grandmaster, especially one skilled at observing heaven's will, sometimes a single divination sufficed. He did not even need to divine: unease of mind alone could tell him that the situation might be worsening.
That was precisely Chonghe's condition now. Since midmonth, he had grown more anxious by the day, and since yesterday, he had been unable to sleep for an entire day and night. He knew the situation was about to take a terrible turn.
Then why not cast the sticks?
Naturally, because this Great Grandmaster knew perfectly well that being dragged into these muddy waters at the last moment would exact an enormous price. He had simply never imagined the price would come due so quickly... There