On a hillside northwest of a small town, near Ji Province, outside the capital, stood nearly a hundred graves.
These graves, it was evident, had been erected only a few years ago. The earth covering them still looked fresh, and the headstones were quite new.
The inscriptions on the headstones remained vivid, bearing names.
Beside each name was an epitaph: "A departed friend and brother, who once fought on the battlefield, bathed in blood for the nation. Only broken bodies and steadfast hearts returned to their homeland, only to perish at the hands of cowards. Tragic indeed... Erected by Chen Tianjiao with weeping blood!"
The headstones, in the desolate, chilling wind of late autumn, appeared even more forlorn.
As afternoon approached, a solitary figure sat before the foremost grave, a stark silhouette, exuding a sense of desolation.
"Old Liang, this is Wuliangye. You always loved this one. Back when we infiltrated enemy territory in the freezing cold, and had to wait forty-eight hours in an ice cave, it was this stuff that helped us endure. I lost a leg then. If you were still alive, how good it would be if we could drink this together, face to face?"
The liquor spilled before the tombstone, its aroma filling the air.
"Old Liang, how many times have we fought side-by-side? How many times did we survive amidst a hail of bullets? In the end, you didn't die by enemy fire, but by the bullets of 'our own people' whom you protected. Isn't that laughable?"
"It's been over three years, Old Liang. I'm sorry, I haven't rooted out those people completely and given you a thorough accounting. I've failed you. I, Chen Tianjiao, have failed you all!"
The solitary figure seated before the grave was none other than Chen Fan.
After heading north, he hadn't gone home, nor anywhere else, but had come to this place called Qingyan Town.
He had to come, for his brothers and comrades were buried here.
For the past three years, he had been a son-in-law to the Su family, in hiding for so long, and he hadn't visited them once. He felt immense guilt.
Here lay buried those comrades and brothers who had once trusted him implicitly, willing to lay down their lives for him.
Yet, after more than three years, he still couldn't provide them with a complete resolution.
This return to the capital, besides searching for Su Yingxue, was also to settle old scores.
"Old Liang, do you think I'm particularly useless? When you all retired from the battlefield, each of you was disabled. I said, your remaining years are in my hands. I didn't promise wealth and status, just a life of peace, free from worry about livelihood, to get married and have children."
Chen Fan took a swig of wine, his face filled with bitterness. "But in the end, I couldn't even protect your lives!!"
"You survived countless volleys of gunfire and battle smoke, even losing arms or legs, with bodies scarred. Yet, after leaving the battlefield, after putting down roots, you died by the guns of those you protected."
"How ironic?"
"When you were dying, you asked me why, and I couldn't answer!"
Cold tears traced paths down his cheeks.
Even a God of War shed tears!
The wind rustled through the overgrown grass.
"Alright, Old Liang, no more of this."
The remaining wine was poured onto the tombstone. Chen Fan slowly rose. "I'll speak with the other brothers. It's been over three years, and those matters must end. Even if it turns the world upside down, even if it creates a monumental mess, those people from back then must die!"
"For three years, you've waited too long, and I've waited too long!"
With that, Chen Fan uncorked another bottle of Maotai and walked to an adjacent tombstone. "Old Yue, have a drink. Though I have no face to see you, I always remember you."
The wine cascaded down. Chen Fan sighed softly. "You survived the bloodbath at the Yun Cang River with me, yet you died in our homeland. If I don't avenge this, how can I face you in the afterlife?"
Taking a couple more steps, he encountered another new grave.
"Little Zhao, you once took a bullet for me. I offer this drink to you. Privately, you called me brother, but brother couldn't protect you."
"You said, back then, if there had been a gun, even ten times as many of those bastards wouldn't have been able to harm you at all..."
"Little Liu..."
He passed by one grave after another, pouring out a cup of wine at each.
He recalled the scene of these scarred veterans from the battlefield, who bled for this country, who paid a heavy price, saluting him as they retired.
Their bodies were gone, but their spirit remained!
They offered their youth and their blood, eventually turning to dust.
Chen Fan's heart trembled, quivered!
Back then, when these veteran soldiers retired, if he hadn't insisted on finding a way out for them, settling them in this small town near the capital, this outcome might not have occurred.
If he hadn't been abroad at the time, executing a mission as the Lord of the Night, these battle-hardened warriors, who had followed him through life and death, wouldn't have died so miserably.
The world was unjust. Their spilled blood, their burned bodies, were worth nothing in the face of certain people's interests!
Tears fell among the desolate graves.
He sat down again, wanting only to spend more time with these former comrades, these former brothers.
Though his heart held hate and tears!
Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed.
A figure, panting, ran up the rural road below.
Chen Fan ignored it, taking a swig of wine, the spiciness burning his throat.
A moment later, smoke curled from beside a grave, followed by a woman's sob, filled with grief.
"Zhigang, I'm sorry, I can't protect you and your comrades anymore!"
"They've come. They want to tear this place down, level it, and build a resort."
"Wuuu, I'm so tired. No one is helping me."
"That so-called God of War you mentioned, after burying you all here, disappeared for over three years. Has he ever come back to see you?"
"When you were alive, you said he wouldn't abandon you, that he'd never mistreat you. But what happened?"
"..."
Her words, carried by the autumn wind, struck Chen Fan's ears, making his body tremble.
Each word, each tearful lament, felt like a knife gouging his heart.
He rose, shamefaced, and looked over.
In the setting sun, joss paper burned, illuminating a young, radiant face.
Luo Zhigang... He remembered every name here. This young soldier had lost an arm in the battle of the desolate desert.
He was very young then, only in his early twenties.
His hometown was not here, but far to the south, thousands of miles away.
But upon learning that Chen Fan intended to settle disabled veterans here, he had unhesitatingly chosen to come and live and work with his comrades.
He had said that even with one arm lost, he could still forge a life for himself.
He was quick-witted. Many of Chen Fan's investments here were managed by him.
Who was this woman to Luo Zhigang?
Chen Fan felt a sudden fear, a trepidation, as he walked towards her.
Hearing footsteps, the woman looked up warily. Straightening, she grabbed a dry branch.
"You... Who are you?" the woman asked, her voice guarded.
"I..." Chen Fan stopped, his face etched with guilt. "I am the person Zhigang used to talk about, that so-called God of War. Who are you to Zhigang?"
"You?"
The woman looked at the wine bottle in Chen Fan's hand, his dishevelled appearance, and disbelief flickered across her face. "Don't come any closer. What's your name?"
Chen Fan stood still, then after a moment of silence, said, "My name is Chen Tianjiao!"
The woman was stunned, then studied Chen Fan, a look of disbelief on her face.
She had imagined Chen Tianjiao to be a great figure, someone Luo Zhigang would have been willing to die for, someone he would never have abandoned.
Yet, the man before her was dressed in ordinary clothes.
Most importantly, he was alone, which was different from her impression of him when he established this burial ground three years ago.
Of course, she hadn't been there in time three years ago and hadn't met Chen Tianjiao.
"You are Chen Tianjiao?" the woman asked suspiciously.
"I am Chen Tianjiao!" Chen Fan repeated.
That name represented too much.
"You're alone?" the woman asked again.
Chen Fan nodded and said, "Zhigang lost his arm on the battlefield. A comrade fell, and he went to pull him back to the trench when a sniper shot off his hand."
Hearing Chen Fan's words, tears immediately streamed down the woman's face.
Knowing how Zhigang lost his arm meant his identity couldn't be faked.
This was the person Zhigang had mentioned most often, the Undefeated Heavenly King he had longed for, the invincible commander he had spoken of countless times.
Tears fell, yet she raised her head and cursed, "Zhigang talked about you the most, and this is how you treated him? He was murdered, and have you avenged him and his comrades?"