- return to capital
After that, the journey home grew unexpectedly smooth.
They said rumors ran faster than horses, and it proved true. Wherever the Northern Expeditionary Army passed, magistrates and prefects came out in person to receive them. The towns were hastily arranged to appear orderly and spotless, as though no injustice had ever taken place there. Meals were prepared in advance, laundry basins filled, and fresh hay stacked high for the horses before a single request was made.
Even when they entered inhabited towns, the White Dragon Cavalry insisted on pitching their own tents. It was no burden—they could raise and dismantle camp with swift efficiency—but now the local garrisons were ordered to do it for them. Soldiers from each county set up the tents, fed the horses, fetched water, washed clothes, and prepared food. None of it could replace the comrades they had lost, yet it granted them something else: a quiet span of rest within a still, heavy grief.
The enormous spoils sent ahead to the capital, along with the stories carried by soldiers’ tongues, had elevated the Northern Army’s reputation. The brutal discipline they had displayed along the road was enough to make local officials tremble. The title of Jiedushi alone placed Jin Muguang far above county magistrates and prefects; victory had only widened that distance.
Had they known the road would unfold like this, perhaps Sosam would have followed despite his wounded arm.
Some regions prepared welcoming crowds. Others set up full banquets along the official road, awaiting their arrival. Yet Yi Hui forbade the men from entering villages alone. They would eat well, drink well, rest properly—and move on. The capital drew nearer with every measured mile.
Just Before Entering the Imperial Capital — The Grain of the Wind
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Though they had not yet left the main road, the texture of the air changed.
As villages thickened along the roadside, the eyes of the people changed with them. It was not curiosity. It was not fear. It was avoidance.
When the White Dragon Cavalry passed, people lowered their heads. Yet the gesture did not carry reverence. There was calculation in it—a stiffness, as though they were already standing elsewhere and merely observing the form of courtesy.
Jin Muguang said nothing. He sat his horse and looked only ahead, his gaze fixed toward the capital.
But Yi Hui felt it.
Something was subtly misaligned.
The insolence of the black-uniformed troops earlier had not been simple ignorance. They had not failed to recognize the banner—they had chosen to ignore it. No one could mistake what it meant for a victorious army to return from the frontier. The reason they dared to speak casually was because, somewhere, they believed that power had already shifted.
From where had that belief come?
At an inn far back along the road, a merchant had once let slip a careless remark:
“They say the Northern Army has been summoned to the capital.”
“Not exactly to be rewarded… perhaps to be examined.”
Examined.
The word lingered.
The greater the merit, the heavier the examination. Too great a victory could turn into suspicion.
The triumph at Harlan had been immense. The single line in the report—Gatelip escaped—might be read in ways unknown within the capital’s walls.
Yi Hui glanced back.
A hundred riders. That was all.
If the Emperor had already decided to strike them down, these numbers would not suffice. Whether bringing only a single intact company of the White Dragon Cavalry had been wise—there was no longer any way to judge.
Jin Muguang still appeared half-asleep in the saddle. Yi Hui knew better. He always looked that way—until the moment he chose to act.
In the distance, the gate came into view.
The entrance to the Imperial City.
The banners above the walls fluttered in the wind. Their color seemed unfamiliar. Not welcoming—watchful.
By the roadside, a former black-troop soldier muttered quietly to a companion:
“They won’t last long.”
The words did not reach the White Dragon Cavalry.
But the wind carried them.
In the capital, calculations might already be underway.
After war ends, the blade is used twice.
Once against the enemy.
And then—against the one who earned too much glory.
The White Dragon Cavalry continued forward in a straight line.
Yet the sky above them hung heavier than any battlefield.