The night wind in the deep valley carried cold dampness, sweeping past the unextinguished embers among the broken walls of Qiaoying Manor. Yuan Shao suddenly clenched the bronze wine vessel in his hand so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The crisp clink of the vessel's base against the low table cut sharply through the dead silence of the tent.
"Say it again!" His voice ground out between his teeth, suppressed fury churning in his throat. The silver strands at his temples trembled slightly with the sudden outburst of rage.
The messenger outside the tent had long turned pale with terror, his knees slamming repeatedly against the ground. "My… my lord… Qiaoying Manor… the granary… and… and the firearms… all… all burned to ashes… the… the flames reached the sky… we… we couldn't put them out…"
"Qu Yi! Where is Chunyu Qiong?!" Yuan Shao slammed his palm on the table. Wine jugs and bamboo slips scattered across the surface at once. The bronze wine vessel toppled to his feet, amber wine splashing over his boots—yet he did not even notice. Those eyes, usually tinged with pride and indolence, now blazed with raging fire, bloodshot veins spreading like cobwebs beneath them.
Qu Yi was the sharpest spear under his command, always charging at the forefront in bitter battles; his iron spear had felled countless fierce foes. Though Chunyu Qiong was not skilled in swift assaults, he was steady and reliable. Guarding the granary had seemed a foolproof arrangement. These two men, along with the full store of gunpowder and lead bullets, were the foundation of his schemes in Liyue, the confidence with which he contended against Mondstadt, Inazuma, and all other forces—and now, in a single night, they had been reduced to nothing?
"G-General… the two of them… to protect the granary… fought until… until their last breath… b-both… both perished…" The messenger's voice shook violently, the last few words barely choked out.
"Pah—"
Yuan Shao suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood. Scarlet droplets splattered across the map before him, staining the rivers along the border of Liyue's Deep Valley and Fontaine with a blinding crimson. The guards inside the tent dropped to their knees in terror, not daring to breathe loudly. They had never seen their lord lose control like this. Even after his setback at Guandu, Yuan Shao had forced himself to remain calm. Yet now he seemed to have had his very bones stripped away, his body swaying. Had he not held onto the table, he would have collapsed to the ground.
"Good… very good…" He snarled in a low, hoarse voice like a cracked gong. "Insolent curs of Liyue… dare you burn my granary… slay my greatest generals… this feud is unforgivable!"
Rage surged like magma in his chest, burning his innards as if in a scorching fire. He remembered Qu Yi, returning victorious each time, always clasping his fist and solemnly declaring, "To expand my lord's territory." He remembered Chunyu Qiong, holding the account books, meticulously reporting grain supplies, item by item. These images overlapped with the tragic scene of "fighting until their last breath" spoken by the messenger, mixing sharp agony into his boiling fury.
"Order!" He straightened abruptly, a ferocious ruthlessness on his bloodstained face. "The entire army shall withdraw from Fontaine at once! Return to the Jade Valley!"
The guards froze. The battle in Fontaine was deadlocked; to retreat now would mean all their efforts were in vain. Yet at the sight of the unyielding madness in their lord's eyes, none dared to speak—they could only obey.
"Tell everyone," Yuan Shao's voice was cold as forged ice, "once I regroup my forces, I will flatten Liyue and grind the trash who set the fire into dust!"
The order to retreat fell like a boulder into a lake. The Yuan army arrayed at the Fontaine border immediately fell into commotion. News of the granary's destruction had already spread quietly through the ranks. Now, seeing their lord retreat in a fury, the soldiers grew even more panicked, their formations falling into disarray. Yuan Shao sat in his war chariot, a searing pain throbbing in his chest. The mouthful of blood seemed to have drained much of his strength, yet he forced himself to sit straight, his gaze dark and sinister as he scanned the chaotic ranks.
The direction of the Jade Valley was shrouded in twilight. The wind in the woods carried the characteristic salty dampness of Fontaine, making the banners snap loudly. Just as the army was about to pass through a narrow valley, disaster struck!
"Bang—bang—bang—"
A burst of intense explosions suddenly rang out from the hilltops on both sides. The stench of gunpowder filled the air at once. Before the Yuan soldiers could react, the front guards fell one after another, bursts of blood exploding from their chests.
"Musket fire!" Someone screamed.
Yuan Shao looked up sharply. Dozens of soldiers in Fontaine uniforms stood dimly on the hilltops, holding black muskets, smoke still curling from their barrels. These firearms far outranged bows and crossbows, and in the narrow valley, they were even deadlier. Trapped inside, the Yuan army had nowhere to dodge.
"Filthy brats of Fontaine! Dare you ambush me?!" Yuan Shao's eyes nearly split from rage. He drew his sword at his waist, ready to order a counterattack.
But it was too late. Another volley rained down. A lead bullet whistled through the crowd and struck his left shoulder dead-on.
"Ugh—ah—"
Agony flooded his body in an instant. Yuan Shao felt as if his left arm had been torn apart. Blood gushed down his arm, soaking half his armor. He could no longer hold on, tumbling from the chariot onto the cold mud.
"My lord!" The guards paled, throwing themselves in front of him, using shields to block the constant hail of lead bullets.
Screams and wails echoed through the valley. Yuan soldiers fell like harvested wheat. Yuan Shao lay on the ground, the agony in his shoulder nearly rendering him unconscious, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. He watched his soldiers fall one by one, stared at the blurry figures of Fontaine's soldiers on the hilltops. Rage, regret, and unwillingness tangled in his heart, almost devouring him whole.
"Ret… retreat…" He roared with his last strength, his voice so weak it was barely audible.
The guards dragged him up desperately, fighting their way out of the valley through a storm of bullets. Lead struck the ground nearby, raising clouds of dust. Every step felt like treading on blades. Supported by his guards, Yuan Shao's consciousness faded. Before his eyes flashed the sky-high flames of Qiaoying Manor, the tragic deaths of Qu Yi and Chunyu Qiong, the deadly smoke rising from Fontaine's muskets…
He had lost in the end—so miserably, so unacceptably. The direction of the Jade Valley remained veiled in twilight. But the road home was now stained with blood and despair.