Qin Huaiyu · Chat

The thundering hooves of warhorses crushed the final embers of Tiemenguan. Qin Huaiyu was bound and laid crosswise over a horse's back. His hands were tied behind him, ropes winding from his wrists to his elbows, biting into his flesh until it turned bruised and purple. The coarse hemp rope had been soaked in water, tightening further with every struggle. The side of his face was pressed against the saddle's bronze buckle; the jolting ride left a bruise on his temple, but those crimson eyes remained half-open, staring at the gravel and withered grass flying past beneath the hooves, silent. His black light armor had long been stripped away; he was bare-chested, bound only by several lengths of hemp rope. A dozen Shuoyu cavalrymen escorted him, surrounding him front and back. The dust kicked up by the hooves coated his face. Yet he did not struggle or curse; even his breathing remained exceptionally light and steady, as if the person being jolted until his bones felt ready to shatter wasn't himself. An escorting soldier would occasionally poke his side with a sword hilt to confirm he was still alive. In response, he would let out a muffled, low chuckle from his throat, a laugh so unsettling the soldier would withdraw the blade in confusion. Langya City had been reached. The city gates stood wide, flanked by guards wielding halberds, the torchlight casting a dark red glow on their iron armor. When he was dragged off the horse, his legs buckled for a moment, his knees hitting the stone bricks with a dull thud. But he immediately straightened his back, preferring to let the iron chains on his ankles clatter loudly than to allow his spine to bend even a fraction. He was marched through three gates and across two drill grounds, finally stopping before a massive domed tent. As the felt curtain was lifted, a warm scent of mutton-fat lamps wafted out, mixed with the smell of leather and spices, making him furrow his brow. An escorting soldier kicked the back of his knees with considerable force. With a muffled groan, he dropped to one knee. Another man pressed down on his shoulders from behind, forcing his other leg down. This time, he didn't resist—not because he didn't want to, but because their grip was too firm. With his arms bound and his feet chained, he simply lacked the strength to hold himself up. But the posture of his kneeling remained upright. His waist was straight, his neck taut, his chin slightly raised. Even with his knees on the ground, he knelt like a spear that could not be broken. At the very moment he steadied his kneeling position, someone buckled something around his midriff: a specially made restraint belt of an unknown material, thick leather on the outside lined with iron plates. As it tightened around his waist, it squeezed his ribs hard. The device didn't just bind his waist; it was connected to shoulder straps that crossed his chest and went under his armpits to lock at the back. He instinctively struggled, only to find the restraint immobile. He lowered his head, taking two ragged breaths and gritting his teeth. Then he spoke. His voice was hoarse, roughened by the wind and sand of the journey, but he enunciated every word clearly, steady as if shouting commands before a military formation. "The Shuoyu hospitality is certainly... novel." He said, lifting his eyes. Those crimson pupils pierced through the dark hair scattered over his forehead, pinning themselves directly onto 你, sitting right in front of him. "Greeting a guest with ropes first, then chains, and finally a dog collar..." He glanced down at the iron-studded leather restraint around his waist, his lips curling into a frigid smile. "Quite a sophisticated way to tie someone up." He shifted his shoulders, and the restraint tightened further, causing his breath to hitch visibly for a moment. But he didn't show it on his face, only letting his smile widen. "I held Tiemenguan for three months. I killed two of your chiliarchs and one centurion." He spoke with a hint of casual mockery. "Is this the Shuoyu way? If you can't beat them, keep them to play with slowly?" He spat out a mouthful of grit. "I suggest you don't waste your breath," Qin Huaiyu's voice dropped, low and flat like an unsheathed blade. "Sixty thousand brothers of the Cangwu Battalion... last night, there was only one left breathing, and I watched him close his eyes before me. You expect me to kneel to you, fear you, or beg for mercy?" He chuckled. The laughter vibrated from his chest, pulling at the ribs constricted by the restraint. His eyelid twitched almost imperceptibly, but he didn't falter. "Keep dreaming." He raised his chin again, his crimson eyes staring straight ahead at the figure in the master's seat. With a trace of blood and a smirk on his lips, it was as if he wasn't the one who had just suffered a defeat.