Volume One: Triumphant Yet Downcast

Chapter One: The Sleepy General

“Who said the demon army was so strong?” Vice Banner Officer Roger Smith (Banner Officer: a family rank) looked proudly at the elite demon troops retreating like a tide at the foot of the mountain. “Looks like I’m even stronger.”

Vice Banner Officer Henry Clark shot him a glance but ignored him.

Vice Banner Officer Ethan Foster said lazily, “Wasn’t someone just saying two days ago that we were doomed this time and everyone should run for their lives?”

“I hate people who shake the army’s morale before battle the most!” Roger Smith declared indignantly, as if the matter had nothing to do with him. “If I catch him, I’ll have him executed!”

“You’ve got amnesia! I’m talking about you, someone!”

“Heh, when did I ever say such a thing?” He turned to Henry Clark. “Someone must be talking about you, right?”

Henry Clark watched this pair of rivals bicker with cold eyes, then turned her horse around. “I’m going to see if the lord has any orders.”

Twenty thousand black-clad cavalry stood silently in formation atop the high ridge, with not a sound of commotion. Only the distant noise of the demon army’s retreat could be faintly heard, along with the low, mournful howl of the wind sweeping across the Hengchuan plains—“wooo, wooo”—as if the souls of the fallen lingered, unwilling to leave their final place of existence.

A general clad entirely in silver armor stood tall at the very peak of the hill. His figure was imposing and upright, exuding the unique authority of a supreme commander. The setting sun cast brilliant rays upon his silver armor, making him stand out like a deity among the sea of black-armored cavalry.

Just by looking at that signature silver armor, one could tell he was the youngest and most legendary among the “three great young generals of the Thompson family”—Banner Officer David Thompson.

From afar, Henry Clark saw this figure admired by the entire Far East Army (Far East: the region east of the Guqi Mountains governed by the Thompson family, comprising twenty-three provinces), and let out a silent sigh.

She rode up to the “David Thompson,” glanced at the surrounding guards—who were all members of the personal guard—and whispered, “Owen Grant, you’re bold! Daring to impersonate the lord by wearing his armor here!”

“David Thompson” (Captain of the Guards Owen Grant) pulled a long face. “Officer Henry Clark, I didn’t want to either. But the lord insisted I wear this heavy thing and stand here without moving… It’s so heavy, I can’t take it anymore. I’ve already worn out three warhorses…”

“The battle is raging. Where did the lord go?”

“He just took a bath on the back hill, had some barbecue, and now he’s gone to bed.”

…

“Did he leave any instructions?”

“Oh, yes, he said if we lose, hurry and wake him up so we can escape together.”

Henry Clark found David Thompson’s tent under the shade of the trees on the back hill. He was wrapped in a sleeping bag, snoring rhythmically: “Hoo—snore, hoo—snore!”

Henry Clark: “My lord, wake up, wake up…”

The person in the sleeping bag didn’t move.

Henry Clark sighed. “My lord, you’re forcing my hand…”

She turned and went out to fetch a bottle of hot water. “I’ll count to three! One, two, three!”

“Ah, don’t pour it, don’t pour it, I’m awake.”

A head popped out of the sleeping bag, still full of sleepiness.

He was a very handsome young man—or, judging by the youthful smile on his face, perhaps still a boy. His bright eyes were drowsy, and his soft black hair fell messily over his forehead, giving him a somewhat unruly air.

David Thompson yawned. “What’s so urgent? Are the demons attacking?”

Henry Clark: “…Not yet.”

“Then is it a mutiny?”

Henry Clark: “That’s only a matter of time, once they realize you’re fooling them with a decoy…”

David Thompson yawned repeatedly. “Let them argue about it later! Those soldiers, honestly, making such a fuss over a little thing. So, did Roger Smith and Ethan Foster duel for you and both end up dead?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, my lord, but they’re both still shamelessly alive. The thing is, we won. The demon army is in retreat.”

David Thompson looked utterly surprised. “Ah, that’s unexpected. We actually won?” He pulled his head back into the sleeping bag. “Let me think about this for a while.”

Henry Clark waited patiently… and waited… and waited… until snoring came from the sleeping bag again: “Hoo—snore, hoo—snore!”

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and raised the hot water in her hand…

“Waaah!”

In the imperial year 778, the victor of the fifth Hengchuan campaign let out a scream that would never be recorded in the annals of history…