When Xu Caitong awoke, the sun was setting. Liu Buqun sat beside her, his broad back facing her. She felt warmth in her heart, knowing she could sleep soundly with him nearby. “You’re awake?” Liu Buqun asked, turning as he heard the rustling of the straw.
“I slept for a whole day?” Xu Caitong sat up.
“Will tonight be like last night?” she asked.
“No,” Liu Buqun said, his brows furrowed with concern. He couldn’t predict the dangers of the night, whether they were human or ghost, they seemed to be after the Mo Xie Sword, their actions inexplicable. Liu Buqun was worried, but he didn’t want to add to her anxiety. Before nightfall, Liu Buqun took Xu Caitong away from the riverbank.
The black horse carried them through the turbulent stream, over rugged mountains, under a night sky devoid of starlight. As they prepared to cross a forest, they were met by a large force of soldiers, the area illuminated by torches. Liu Buqun pulled the reins tight, the horse neighed. In the center, on a golden throne, sat the founder of Later Zhou, Guo Wei. Liu Buqun dismounted and knelt before him. “Your Majesty, Liu Buqun pays his respects. Long live the Emperor.”
Guo Wei, recognizing his brave and versatile general, descended from his throne to help Liu Buqun up. “General Liu, what urgent matter forced you to leave the army? Are you well?”
“Your Majesty, an unexpected event compelled me to leave. Please forgive me,” Liu Buqun bowed.
“What could be so urgent? The north is in chaos, the Khitans aim to invade the Central Plains; it’s the time for us to establish great merits. How can you abandon this opportunity for personal matters?” Guo Wei lamented, hoping to retain Liu Buqun.
