Chương 150: Battle of Huanglong Prefecture Section 4 — The Invisible War

— Battle of Huanglong Prefecture Section 4 — The Invisible War From atop the walls of Huanglong, nothing seemed to have changed. The moat remained as it was. The gates were shut. The banners swayed slowly in the wind. The soldiers held their posts. From the watchtowers, they took turns observing the outside. Everything remained the same. And so no one found it strange. Yet beyond the walls, another war was unfolding. The roads changed first. The paths once filled with travelers began to empty.

Footprints grew sparse. Hoofprints disappeared. It was a crossroads of movement — and yet no one passed through. It was strange. At first, it seemed like coincidence. When the pattern continued for days, people began to search for reasons.

"The rain has delayed them."

"The river has swollen."

"The roads are rough." There were many explanations. Enough to satisfy. So no one doubted the roads. Wanyan Nushil did not sever them. He left them open. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. He allowed passage. And so they came deeper. The roads remained open. They stretched onward. But there was no end. What appeared to be a road was, in truth, a trap without escape. Small units moved along the land.

Each guarded its assigned stretch, cutting down all that passed through. Signals were brief. A gesture. A bird call. A whistle carried by the wind. That was enough. It was no different from how the Jurchen hunted. Dozens spread out, driving prey with simple signals, coordinating perfectly without words. To them, war and hunting were not separate things. Especially this kind of battle — it felt as natural as the hunt. They moved when something appeared. They stopped when it vanished. The fighting did not last long.

They drew the enemy in. And at the moment of contact — they cut it short. Completely. No records remained. No report of which tribal force had fallen where. Only one thing was certain — people did not return. A supply cart bound for Huanglong vanished. Ten days later, another vanished. Then more men were sent with the next. None of them returned either. Inside the fortress, they searched for reasons.

"Bandits have increased."

"The Jurchen have disrupted the roads." The tone grew harsher, but the conclusion remained the same.

"It will settle soon." But it did not. Instead, it grew quieter. News stopped coming. No letters arrived. No messengers returned. No sign of reinforcements appeared. The soldiers on the walls first felt boredom. Then frustration. And at last — nothing at all. Because nothing could be seen. No enemy. No battle. And that made it worse. The unseen bred deeper unease. They did not know where it was. They did not know where it began. Inside the fortress, life continued as before. Granaries opened and closed.

Soldiers ate in rotation. Horses stood tethered in their enclosures. Yet their numbers were shrinking. Little by little — so subtly that it went unnoticed. Men left. None returned. No one counted. Who lives by counting every passing soul? Most days pass in quiet indifference. And so the loss went unseen. Outside, time was gathering. One day. Three days. Ten days. No battle unfolded before the walls. But in the forests, the war never ceased. On the roads. In unseen places. Movements were controlled.

Those deemed enemies were eliminated. Huanglong still stood. But the world that led to it — had already disappeared.