Why do I have so many masters?

Baili Feng felt excruciating pain in several parts of his body.

Moving his fingers, he only triggered a wave of lingering pain, prompting an involuntary groan.

The agony took a long time to subside.

Breathing sharply and weakly, Baili Feng slightly adapted to his condition and looked around. Dimly, he could only make out the iron bars of the cell door.

There was no lamp, the only light came from a crevice above, providing the sole source of illumination.

He heard nothing outside, but he could imagine there must be guards.

And certainly not just a few. Though it was but a battlefield of a few thousand, with no great generals, he still ought to count as having charged through the ranks and slain officers.

Well, almost having done so. This treatment shouldn't be considered excessive.

Baili Feng cracked a smile, unsure if it was a self-mocking gesture or one of pride.

He moved his body and discovered that his limbs had been fastened with iron rings at some point, his hands and feet locked in place. The chain from the iron ring on his right foot stretched outward, merging into a massive metallic sphere. Baili Feng exerted himself through the pain, but the iron ball did not budge, making only the clattering sound of chains colliding.

Seemingly having agitated his wounds with the effort, Baili Feng winced in pain and collapsed back into his original position, his complexion deathly pale.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as large as soybeans, a pain indescribable, sweeping through his entire body, making him tremble slightly, his breathing uneven.

His clothes were damp with sweat, wounds burnt fierce with pain, and there was also the distinct sensation as if muggy mud had been plastered over them.

The smell of poor-quality herbal medicine permeated the air, mingling with the scent of blood, nauseating to the senses.

Oh, they've even applied medicine.

Seems like there's something ahead more piquant than death...

Baili Feng grinned again.

But he also grew curious—these herbs could at most stem bleeding; how exactly had his life been spared?

He didn't know.

His last memory was fixed on the young opposing general a mere half-step away, and on his own Mo Blade that had struck awry. Even now, recalling it filled him with a trace of anger and frustration.

Had he not been ambushed by that skilled Northern Hun warrior who killed his steed, how could he have fallen into the ignoble state of a prisoner?

Perhaps he really could have become a miscellaneous minor general.

Thinking about lapsing into unconsciousness from his grave injuries, Baili Feng heard the term "General" echoing from somewhere. He chuckled with a touch of self-ridicule, his expression that of the unruly ruffians in Great Qin City, full of disregard.

"Yes, my lord..."

A subdued voice came from the adjacent cell; Baili Feng stiffened slightly, the nonchalant look on his face faded away.

Suppressing the stinging pain in his body, he shifted toward the direction of the voice. The chains rasped with a rustling sound, and he barely managed to prop himself up against the iron bars, his voice hoarse:

"Old Li?"

"You're still alive?!"

His eyes brightened.

Whispers came from the neighboring cell as if relieved, saying:

"It's good that the lord is unharmed..."

Baili Feng's eyes shimmered, stirred to the core, which made him cough, yet his eyes remained bright and lively. He lowered his voice and looked around, urgently asking:

"Besides you, cough cough, besides us, who else is here?"

"Who else is still alive?"

After the silence, a voice came from another direction, seemingly ashamed:

"Your subordinate also clings to a feeble life..."

Baili Feng's eyes lit up, he nodded vigorously and continued to listen hopefully, but after that voice, there was only deathly silence, with nothing to hear but his own breathing.

The young man's face gradually stiffened.

The Iron Cavalry in the adjacent cell spoke softly:

"My lord, it's just us left..."

Baili Feng's expression slowly turned to silence, and the spirit that had emerged from nowhere, urging his half-dead body to move, vanished again. He slumped to the ground, his back against the cold, chilling stone wall, head leaning back slightly.

He stared at the solitary ray of light, where dust danced in the stream, each speck faintly glistening.

After a long silence, Baili Feng quietly spoke up.

As if from a great dream, he suddenly realized.

"It's just us left, huh..."

At that time, he was already badly wounded and unconscious, and the other two Iron Cavalry had also been knocked out.

As for why those Northern Huns hadn't killed them on the spot but took them back, each of them knew well enough—it was nothing more than to degrade and torment them. What other choice could there be?

Having come to this pass, who would care anymore?

Only death remained.

The three had been stripped of their already somewhat shattered battle armor. In the freezing cold, each one wore only a single black undergarment inside, and all their weapons had been confiscated, not even a dagger left by their side.

After witnessing the events on the battlefield, no one dared to allow these three Qin men to hold any swords or weapons again.

Baili Feng barely lifted his hand and felt inside his chest.

An object that hadn't been taken remained there, the only thing left aside from his thin clothing, somewhat rigid, a rectangular shape too big for one hand to grasp fully.

He caressed the object, his expression serene.

It was the Redwood Command Arrow he had received from the Defending General. Without looking, he knew its appearance: crafted from fine wood, painted black, with a blood-colored "Command" character carved into it. It was said that the Command Arrows distributed by the Great General himself were made of Cold Jade, a pity he had never witnessed one.

Baili Feng put the Command Arrow back inside his chest and sought a slightly more comfortable position, zoning out in a daze.

Now he suddenly felt himself to be a bit rash and unsuited as a Strategist.

If that camp were taken, Great Qin would have sufficient reason to send troops to the Northern Lands.

But now, there is no such reason. The enemy has been repelled, and strictly speaking, Great Qin has not actually suffered any losses. It's likely that this incident will be dismissed as a provocation from the past, merely more intense than before. Doesn't that mean I died in vain?

He felt some regret but then remembered, although Great Qin was powerful, with many nations coveting its borders and an unstable Jianghu within, rashly waging war was perhaps not wise. A national war was no trivial matter; there was just too much to consider...

Knowing too little, Baili Feng ruminated wildly within this foreign dungeon, but he couldn't devise any strategies, resulting in an increasingly painful headache.

With a sigh, he gave up trying to prove himself a competent Strategist and decided to think of lighter, more pleasant things instead.

He didn't want to be so suffocated before his death.

What to think about... Recalling the Master's scoldings, the faces of his parents, the stewed meat in the cabin under Wind Character Tower, thinking of Ni Tianxing, the broken Mo Blade, and the fierce battles on the field.

Thinking of Tuoba Yue.

How ridiculous it was that he was about to die after merely holding hands.

Such a rip-off...

He laughed out loud.

Not a hint of feeling cheated could be seen in his expression.

Just then, footsteps sounded from outside, more than one pair, signaling the approach of either a prison guard or someone of rank from the camp.

Baili Feng raised an eyebrow, put away his random thoughts, and shifted slightly so he could sit up even straighter.

Come what may, he wouldn't bring disgrace to Great Qin.

The footsteps from outside grew closer, halting right in front of his prison cell.

Then came the sound of a key entering the lock, followed by the clash of lifting chains.

The chains were carelessly thrown to the ground with a loud clatter that echoed far and wide.

As the door creaked open, Baili Feng lazily lifted his eyes, his gaze disdainful.

Among those people, a prison guard carrying a lamp approached, and the dim yellow light made him squint uncomfortably. But once his eyes adjusted, his expression changed drastically, and he instinctively tried to rise.

However, due to his injuries, he barely got halfway up before collapsing to the ground.

The chains on his feet clanged resoundingly.

Fresh blood seeped from his wounds due to the abrupt movement, but he seemed indifferent, his right hand pressing firmly against the knife wound on his chest. The palm felt the sticky sensation of blood, but his eyes remained fixed on the prison door.

Two burly prison guards stepped back.

The person who then stepped forward was a young girl in red, with clear and lofty features and twin curved sabers at her waist. Baili Feng was extremely familiar with her eyes and brows, yet now they seemed strangely foreign. He braced himself with his left hand on the ground, intending to keep from collapsing due to his injuries, but now his grip involuntarily tightened.

"Hey..."

Baili Feng laughed, but his eyes showed no mirth.

"Tuoba Yue."

"So cold, even when facing an old classmate, a friend, and a lady of your affections?"

"General Baili?"

A voice tinged with mockery came from outside the cell, speaking in the Great Qin official language, though with an improper accent, carrying the flavor of herding cattle and sheep on the grasslands. The footsteps heralded another arrival from that dark corridor.

A young man, similar in age to Baili Feng, donned in light armor and a curved saber at his waist.

The scabbard appeared to be made of pure gold, adorned with several jewels, exuding extreme luxury. He had a handsome face marred by a sinister air, unpleasing to the eye, with his gaze at Baili Feng mixing scorn and concealed fear with a desire to kill.

It was the young Prince who had almost lost his head to Baili Feng's Mo Blade.

Baili Feng glanced at him, sneered, and looked away.

Without a word, his action conveyed even greater disdain and mockery.

"You..."

The youth's hand involuntarily tightened. The prison guard stood to the side, holding the lamp that cast a flickering, dim yellow light that allowed a clear view of the anger darkening the youth's face and his tightened fist.

His fist clenched and then seemed to grapple with pent-up fury, as his other hand drifted towards the luxurious hilt of his curved saber on instinct.

Tuoba Yue's eyes flickered, scanning over the wounds on Baili Feng's body, and she spoke:

"Surrender, Baili..."

Baili Feng's eyes widened in disbelief, staring at that familiar face, sure he had heard wrong, only to realize he hadn't.

He stared at Tuoba Yue and suddenly burst into wild laughter, unrestrained and leaning forward and backward. Were it not for the chains restricting him, he might have fallen to the ground laughing.

Amid the outrageous laughter, the Hunnish youth's expression grew uglier, his hand firmly grasping the saber hilt.

Perhaps the wild laughter triggered injuries in his chest and abdomen; Baili Feng's laughter turned into violent coughing. He propped himself up on the ground, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his face deathly pale, but he only sneered, his gaze defiant.

The young Hun's hand tightened gradually, the saber blade grinding against the scabbard, producing a faint whine.

Suddenly, Tuoba Yue raised her hand, blocking between the youth and Baili Feng. In the Hun language, she said softly:

"Seventh Prince, please be patient."

"I used to be his classmate, a friend."

"Please step aside, your presence here might provoke the people of Qin."

"If you let me persuade him, there may yet be a chance of him surrendering to the Northern Hun."

PS: Here's the second update for today...

Tomorrow, there will be an explosion of plot developments, and it might be late...

Yes, you all know what I mean when I say that... (covers face).

Today, I shall transform into the Liver Emperor, evolving to the ultimate form... (roars).