The eastern frontier boiled with movement. Villages packed up before dawn, fields abandoned mid-harvest. The Gale Army had vanished two days ago, slipping beyond the marshlands like mist in the low valleys. Scouts sent after them returned with nothing but silence and broken trails.
General Sima Yong of the Eleventh Legion stared at the trampled grass where the enemy had once camped. Cold wind bit through his armor. Smoke still curled from the last cooking pits. Even the waste had been cleared.
"They left nothing," he muttered.
Captain Ren dismounted beside him, scanning the treeline. "No banners. No stragglers. No rear guard. It's like they were never here."
"They're hiding something." Sima kicked at a smoothed patch of dirt. "You don't train peasants to disappear like this. Not without help."
The Seventh Legion under General Wu Jian had circled from the south, chasing rumors of a splintered Gale force retreating east. But now both legions were spread thin, chasing phantoms across hundreds of li.
"They're bleeding us dry with movement alone," Sima said.
That night, campfires burned low. Maps spread across crates. Officers pointed, argued, redrew boundaries in dust. Word came by rider at dawn.
Three cities struck.
Same day. Same hour.
Not towns near the border. Deeper. Trade hubs. Grain depots. Places the army had left unguarded.
The council tent went quiet.
"What?" Wu Jian asked, voice hoarse.
"Feint," Sima said. "They pulled us west with fake routes, forged deserter logs, scouts dressed in our armor. All while their real force moved east."
"How many did they hit?"
"Liu'an. Shanpo. Yeling."
"They're a week apart by march!" Wu Jian snapped.
"They weren't marching," Captain Ren said. "They split. Small fireteams. Hit fast. Burned stores. Cut command lines. Moved before anyone could respond."
In Liu'an, the city awoke to the sound of firebombs crashing through rooftops. Gale saboteurs slipped past the outer walls at night, dressed as refugees. By the time alarms rang, they'd already set fire to the grain houses. Archers on the rooftops rained arrows into the city square while teams stormed the town watch barracks. Resistance was brief. The local militia, caught between smoke and confusion, scattered within an hour. Black banners rose from the towers before the sun had cleared the hills.
In Shanpo, it started with silence. The main gates were breached from within, opened by insiders paid in silver. Gale fighters in civilian garb spilled in, cutting down guards in the narrow streets. A small garrison held the temple quarter for a time, but once their commander was struck down by a spear through the gut, morale crumbled. Gale squads moved methodically—clearing storehouses, torching ledgers, dragging out artisans and scribes.
Yeling was worse.
The strike came before dawn. Thunderclaps from hidden powder charges split the granary walls open like cracked eggshells. Smoke rolled down the main road. Civilians poured out, only to meet bladed lines that funneled them back. Gale soldiers didn't just attack—they occupied. They herded smiths, engineers, herbalists, and apothecaries. Those who resisted were killed. The rest were marked and marched north. By the time local reinforcements arrived, the city was empty—only ashes and boot tracks remained.
"Casualties?" Wu Jian asked.
"Nearly three thousand across all sites. Worse—civilians scattered. Supply lines are broken. Panic's spreading."
Sima slammed a fist onto the crate. "We played right into it. They wanted us chasing wind."
Wu Jian turned to the messenger. "Did the Emperor respond?"
"He ordered the Eleventh to pull back. Fortify Linji and the grain valley. Seventh to hold at the marsh crossings. No pursuit until confirmation of targets."
Sima shook his head. "That's just more waiting. Altan moves between our orders. We react, he dictates."
A second rider approached, soaked to the bone. "Fresh reports—Yeling wasn't just raided. It was emptied. They took prisoners. Blacksmiths. Engineers. Herbalists. Anyone with skill."
Silence followed.
"They're not just burning towns," Ren said. "They're building something."
Sima looked toward the east. The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of ash.
"Then we need to stop chasing shadows," he said. "We hunt the core. Find the real force, not the distractions."
"How?" Wu Jian asked.
"We strip back our lines, stop guarding empty roads. Let them think we've collapsed again. Let them get bold."
"And when they strike?"
"We strike harder."
No one spoke after that. Orders were sent before sundown. Camps packed light. Riders moved without banners. The hunt was no longer about ground. It was about catching the ghost before it vanished again.
In the distance, past the burned cities and looted roads, the Gale Army moved under cover of cloud and wind. Not in retreat. But preparing for something far more dangerous than another raid.