191 Disband
Night had settled like a heavy blanket. The moon hung low and bloated, and the world felt too quiet for how many lives had just been torn apart. A bonfire crackled at the center of the makeshift camp, casting long shadows over the weary faces of the 112th Bronze Squadron. Some stared into the flames, hollow-eyed. Others whispered, their voices brittle as dry leaves.
I sat at the edge of the circle, legs crossed, arms folded, my spine aching from more than exhaustion. My thoughts drifted home to Willow Village, to Da Ji, Da Jin, and Lin Wei. Were they safe? Were they even alive?
Yuen Fu rose with a parchment in hand. The murmurs died.
He cleared his throat and began to read, his voice steady despite the strain.
“To the remnants of the 112th Bronze Squadron,
"If this message reaches you, then you are among the fortunate survivors. Know this: the Sun Empire is no more.
"The capital has fallen to the jiangshi. They are undead fiends with martial prowess beyond anything in our annals. They are cold and terrifyingly powerful monsters capable of rending armies. The royal family has perished. The Imperial Seal is lost. Central command has collapsed.
"As Supreme Commander of the Northern Garrison, I give one final order: disband. Protect your homes. Guard your families. Seek shelter under whatever banner still holds honor, be it a noble lord, a village council, or a principled warband.
"We did what we could. Heaven no longer favors the Empire. We must favor each other now.
"By my name, Jin Chenglei.”
When Yuen Fu lowered the parchment, the silence was heavy with fear, doubt, and anger.
“…So that’s it?” someone muttered. “It’s over?”
“The Empire’s gone. We’re stateless.”
“We’ve got nothing to return to.”
“The jiangshi are out there, and we’re supposed to just scatter?”
Murmurs spread, unease turning to despair. Gradually, the mood shifted as the glances turned toward me. I could feel their eyes clinging to me like I was a shield against the unknown.
They had seen what I could do, thus the expectations.
Yuen Fu spoke first.
“We shouldn’t disband. We should gather what remains and build something new. With Da Wei as our pillar, we can form a true nation. Not one bound by old names, but by purpose. Start small, then grow. Every dynasty rises from ruin.”
Hope flickered in a few faces. Nods followed.
Ding Shan stepped forward, arms crossed, and eyes sharp as he argued the opposite. “A nation? With what? Empty hands?” he scoffed. “No gold, no walls, no grain. You want to hand farmers spears and call it a country? That’s how the Empire used us.”
He shook his head.
“We need to survive, not dream. Form a mercenary band. With Da Wei’s strength, no lord would ignore us. We earn coin, protect our own, and stay mobile. That’s how we endure.”
This time, the practical ones nodded.
The 112th had always been a mismatched unit of conscripts, women, disgraced nobles, failed officers, and farmers. Never the Empire’s pride. And yet, somehow, we had become something more.
Now they stood at a crossroads, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to walk either path. Voices rose. Arguments sharpened. The tension edged toward violence.
I stood.
“Enough.”
The word cut through the noise. Silence followed.
I exhaled. “You’re both right, but we can't aim too high, and at the same time, we can't just dally, moving around from one place to another.”
I thought more carefully about what to say and decided.
“I never asked to lead anyone. But now half of you see me as this really powerful figure that has the answers, and the other half want to wage war in my name for coin.” I glanced around the fire. “You already know this. I hate death. I hate pain. And I’m tired of being the cause of both. But, do you want to know what I think?”
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They waited.
“We disband.”
A few gasps. A curse or two. Most just stared.
“You all have families, just like me. We’re not some chosen band of destiny. We’re survivors. Not even real soldiers. We're conscripts. Farmers, hunters, women forced to stand as men, and kids pretending to be adults. Most of us never wanted to be here. That’s what the 112th really is.”
I let the words settle.
“But… after you’ve made sure your families are safe, if you still want to follow me, come to Willow Village. That’s where I’ll be. For now, we take care of our own and go our separate ways. If fate has anything to say about it, we’ll meet again.”
No cheers followed, only the crackle of the fire and a hundred unspoken thoughts hanging heavy in the air. Some looked relieved, others heartbroken, and a few more devoted than ever—which, honestly, scared me. I had no idea if this was the right call.
...
Morning came.
Pale light filtered through the trees, the sky just beginning to blush with the first hints of dawn. The air hung heavy with the scent of dying embers and damp earth. I moved quietly, careful not to disturb the silence. There was no need for farewells; this path couldn’t carry more than one set of footsteps.
The camp lay still, bodies scattered in restless sleep around the dying fire. I slipped past them like a shadow, heart steady with resolve.
Of course, I didn’t make it far.
“Going somewhere, Lord Wei?” Yuen Fu’s voice snapped behind me, sharp as a blade. “I’m hurt you didn’t even bother to say goodbye.”
"..."
“Lord Wei?”
“You’re persistent,” I said.
“And you’re terrible at sneaking,” he replied with a tired smile.
“I have to go,” I said quietly. “You should too. You’ve got a family waiting, don’t you?”
“I do.” A shadow crossed his face. “But still…”
“So you’re not stopping me?”
“No.” He shook his head. “But I want to give you something.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, worn book, barely the size of his palm. The edges were frayed from use.
I took it, reading the title. “The Mighty Fist of Goryeo?” I raised a brow. “A martial art manual or something?”
He chuckled. “A novel. About a man who built a nation with nothing but his fists. It’s a bit dramatic, but it made me believe impossible things could happen.”
I stared at it for a moment, then tucked it into my borrowed robe.
“I’m surprised,” I said dryly. “You, talking about founding nations. Didn’t take you for a romantic.”
He laughed, then grew serious.
“I’ve seen what you can do, Lord Wei. And I’ve decided that I’m going to follow you.” He met my eyes. “There’s more out there. Strange, terrifying… beautiful things. I want to see them. I want to stand where history is made, not read about it later. So I’ll follow you. It's not because I have to, but because I want to.”
I turned fully to face him, lips parting to respond, but no words came. I wasn’t sure what I felt. Reluctance? Gratitude? Or maybe that familiar sense of inevitability, like a tide rolling in no matter how far I stepped back.
“…You’re insane,” I muttered.
“Possibly,” he grinned.
I sighed. “But you’re earnest.”
“So are you,” he said, his voice firming with conviction. “And that’s exactly why I refuse to let you walk this world alone. Not while I still have breath in me. The 112th are your limbs.”
“…I should go.”
“Until then, Lord Wei.”
I left in a blur, Flash Stepping through the forest canopy, my body flickering between branches like a phantom. I didn’t look back. Leaves snapped underfoot, branches bent and sprang back in my wake. In the brief stillness between steps, my thoughts grew louder than the world.
Building a nation, huh?
That was what Nongmin did for me. He carved a country out of blood and fire because he believed I was worth it. And now I was considering doing the same, only backwards.
If I built a nation, why?
To protect my loved ones?
I already had the power for that. Or I used to. Even now, diminished, I could feel the starry haze in my heart and the rhythm of energy in my veins. I wasn’t helpless. I could protect my family on my own.
So why did the idea keep pulling at me?
Because the world was falling apart, and with each passing day, the Hollowed World felt farther away. Less real, less within reach… and I couldn’t help but regret leaving it behind, wishing I could find my way back.
Jue Bu’s voice slipped into my mind, quieter than usual. “Building a nation might be the most efficient path. You’d gather resources faster, bring people under one banner, and push your cultivation further. This world isn’t something you can face alone. Not anymore.”
“I figured you’d say that,” I muttered mid-leap, robes snapping in the wind. “But it won’t be easy. I don’t have time.”
“How much time do you think you have, brat?”
I faltered, just long enough for a branch to smack my face. I dropped to a lower perch with a curse.
“Fine. How long do I have?”
“Twenty-seven,” he said casually.
My heart lurched. “What?”
“Give or take. You burned too much life force. Be grateful you didn’t die from that Exalted Renewal.”
I was fifteen.
Twelve years left.
“That’s all?” I exhaled. “I can recover my life force. I’ve done it before.”
“Life force, maybe. Lifespan? No. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. If you want to live longer, raise your realm. And in this world? That’ll take more than effort.”
“So helpful…”
Xin Yune had told me the same thing that life force and lifespan weren’t the same thing.
I went quiet, staring at the golden light spilling through the trees. Morning softened the world, but it felt unreal. Twelve years wasn’t enough for anything, not for a nation, not for cultivation, and certainly not for escape.
Unless I could rewrite fate.
I let out a slow breath.
The Heavenly Demon’s words resurfaced, about others like me. That meant competition. People with power, capable of ruin. Creating a sect would be easier. Gather disciples, cultivate in peace.
But a sect would draw attention.
Their attention.
And with power like the Heavenly Demon’s, that wouldn’t end with tea and philosophy.
So, no sect.
Maybe a nation really was better, though it still felt insane. I pushed forward faster, trying to outrun the spiral tightening in my chest as Jue Bu fell silent. Twelve years wasn’t much. It was nowhere near enough. But maybe, if I moved fast enough, planned rigorously, and never looked back?
…I could build something that would outlast me.
