Rising Phoenix

South Sea, Long Nan, Long Xi, Jiang Huai… Feng Zhiwei swept through the four provinces, a black robed figure on a galloping horse whipping up clouds of dust as she passed countless workers and travelers.

Six days later, in Jiang Huai Province on the outskirts of Dijing.

Nighttime.

A horse charged down the official road like a flash of lightning, green trees blurring by. The rider was covered in dirt and dust, her greying lips cracked and dry. She wobbled as she rode, reins looped around and digging into swollen wrists. The pain was barely noticeable in her exhaustion.

She was close to the province border and almost to Dijing.

The rider let out a long breath, some of her crushing exhaustion fading. She could not slow, urging her horse to maintain its suicidal dash through the darkness.

Figures suddenly appeared, lining up and blocking her way.

Hoofs kicked the air and then horse neighed as she pulled back viciously on the reins and forced the horse to land.

"Move."

The rider called out in a hoarse, unrecognizable voice, determined and implacable.

The men blocking the way did not reply, motionless and silent and firmly blocking her path.

The rider coughed quietly, the single word too much for her dry throat. She lifted her eyes from the men and looked forward to the road ahead, her misty eyes bloodshot in the dim moonlight.

She slowly raised her whip, gritting her teeth as she forced through the trembling in her rising arm. Feng Zhiwei had no more words; her actions would have to speak for her.

Nobody moved; nobody spoke. Those who opposed her were also determined — if she wanted to pass, it would be over their bodies.

Feng Zhiwei quirked her lips in a cold smile, slashing down with her horse-whip.

Her horse cried out, long and loud.

The strong horse burst forward, its tight muscles bulging as hoofs pounded against the road, blurring forwards towards the men.

"Back!"

A quiet command filled the air and the dozen or so figures stepped backwards, forming a semi-circle around the charging horse.

"Cast!"

Silver light flashed like moonlight falling from the heavens as every person tossed out their hands.

An enormous silver net flew through the night sky, glittering in the moonlight as it crashed down onto Feng Zhiwei and her horse.

"Chi…"

As soon as the men had spoken, Feng Zhiwei had reached for her sword, smirking.

Her blade flashed parallel to the ground, slashing through the enormous net and opening a momentary hole for her as she leapt from her horse.

As the net collapsed on her horse behind her, she ignored her anger and her joy at escape, not evening turning towards her assailants as she limped forward, her sword her cane.

Her landing had jolted through her weary bones like a bomb exploding through her exhausted body, but she gritted her teeth and continued forward.

She could not slow, could not stop, leaning into her sword as she pulled herself forward in a lopsided run.

Focus pushed her forward to Dijing even if a million enemies lay ahead and a million others stood in her way.

They had taken her horse, but they had not stopped her. She still had her legs!

Behind her, stunned figures watched as she struggled on. Tattered and covered in dirt and dust, eyes bloodshot and lips cracked, every step a trial and worry, and still she clutched her sword in a desperate grip as she wobbled forward in a hunchbacked run.

Her thin, weak body pressed forward unstoppably.

"Pa Da."

A hand let the net fall to the ground.

More hand loosed, and the huge net collapsed.

The squad leader closed his eyes and sighed. After a moment, he gestured.

Silent figures moved forward to rescue the horse and brought it back to Feng Z

Feng Zhiwei finally stopped, a tiny tear cutting a line through the dust covering her face.

The squad leader wordlessly helped her mount, attaching a new water skin and provisions to her saddle.

He wanted to speak, but nothing came out.

Hoofbeats approached as Gu Nanyi caught up; his clean, soft silk robe was blackened and yellowed, and his white veil was ragged and tainted.

The men hurriedly bowed, but he paid them no mind as he rushed up to Feng Zhiwei and grabbed her, moving her to his own horse as he continued galloping forward.

The group could only watch as Gu Nanyi and Feng Zhiwei disappeared through the rising dust. After a long silence, the squad leader sighed again, turning to his men: "Tell the brothers to stand down."

"Yes."

"Notify the Commander…" The leader continued, his deep voice quiet. "The Young Lady's determination… is unshakable… inform him to make preparations."

"Yes!"

On the seventh day of Feng Zhiwei's ride home.

Dust billowed up behind hoofs. Dijing's lofty gates were almost in sight.

Around the bend of this next mountain lay the crowded city gates. Feng Zhiwei let out a long breath, almost frozen in Gu Nanyi's arms.

Man truly have endless potential. Three days ago, she had pressed on through fear of collapse, but today, she still sat firmly on a horse. Though of course, Gu Nanyi was holding her up.

Gu Nanyi had broken his rules once more — never pausing to change, never pushing her away.

A half month's journey had been cut down to seven days.

Summoning up the last dregs of her flagging strength, she urged the horse forward.

As they neared the mountain bend, a bamboo flute began playing.

A clear, unfettered melody floating through the mountain air as if descending down from heaven on a golden breeze, passing by the jade dew and the watered heavens and thin clouds, crossing through the wind; vast, weeping, and sorrowful.

The tune began light and gentle before growing in passion, indignance rising like a looming storm, frowning down through a calm, unchanging drizzle.