the cat in emperor's arms

heavy fog

The army before them moved according to orders, splitting into two groups. The smaller one continued to hold torches and marched forward in formation.

The other, much larger, abandoned their horses and proceeded on foot, disappearing into the mountains and forests. Only a few horses were led at the rear of the column. All footsteps were muted, and no one lit torches, advancing silently through the darkness.

Pei Shenyu was among them.

The night was pitch-black, and the long column moved like ants—silent and tense.

It was already early winter, and the cold wind howled in the deep night. Ming Luomeng was nestled in Pei Shenyu’s crimson cloak, curled up in a fluffy ball. The cat's eyes gazed into the thick darkness, a trace of confusion flashing within.

Ming Luomeng could tell this was not a broad road, but an unused mountain path.

The leading soldiers had to cut through the grass with their blades to clear the way.

But why had they chosen such a path?

She didn’t understand military tactics, but she knew the situation was tense. So she remained quiet and still, not making a sound. Pei Shenyu, however, sensed that the cat had awakened. A hint of warmth flickered in his eyes, and he gently patted her head.

He couldn’t leave the cat alone at the camp, after all. Fortunately, this battle wasn’t a direct confrontation, so it wasn’t too dangerous.

The long column moved like phantoms through the dense forest, advancing without rest.

It was unclear how long they had traveled, probably for several hours. Ming Luomeng’s sleepy cat eyes were half-closed, and she was nearly dozing off.

Just then, she noticed a faint light on the horizon, a pale sliver of dawn.

Outside the cloak, there was a thick, enveloping fog.

The heavy mist carried moisture, making the cold winter morning even more bone-chilling.

She twitched her ears and fully awoke. After walking a bit further, she saw Pei Shenyu raise his hand and signal to the army, “Rest for now.”

Ming Luomeng looked carefully and saw they had reached the foot of a mountain.

The mountain wasn’t tall but was steep, covered entirely in dark green.

Upon hearing the order, the soldiers scattered and rested briefly in the woods at the foot of the mountain. Pei Shenyu, too, carried the cat to a cave and stopped at the entrance.

He sat on a rock, one hand resting on his sword, and glanced at the curious cat peeking out from the cloak.

His eyes met the cat’s bright, glowing eyes.

“Not sleepy?” Pei Shenyu asked softly.

Ming Luomeng instinctively responded with a flick of her tail, “Meow?”

You’ve been traveling all night, aren’t you going to rest?

“Neither am I.”

Pei Shenyu’s gaze drifted beyond the cave, toward the dense, heavy mist outside.

Before every battle, he couldn’t sleep. Not because of the thrill of impending bloodshed, but because of an indescribable sense of desolation.

Fame, fortune, and power—things countless people pursued. Yet, in comparison, human lives were as insignificant as grass.

But that was just how it was.

Throughout history, victors are crowned, and the defeated are disgraced. There is no mercy on the battlefield.