Interception

Li Guanglong’s fingers gently stroked the ornate box, the chill of its silken surface seeping into his fingertips, yet it could not mask the damp sweat pooling in his palm.

He glanced at Murong Xue, who was locked in a drinking contest with Batu. Murong was tilting back his head, draining a large bowl of amber-colored liquor. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and in the corner of his eye he cast a fleeting glance toward the copper kettle in the corner of the igloo.

That was where they had hidden the prepared knockout drug --- brewed from a poisonous herb of the icefields that gave off a sweet aroma. Once mixed into strong liquor, it was nearly impossible to detect.

“Leader Batu truly has a mighty capacity for drink!” Murong Xue slammed his empty bowl down on the table, sending ice shards scattering. “This ‘ice-burn’ liquor cuts like a blade. Ordinary men collapse after three bowls, yet you remain unshaken. Truly worthy of being called the eagle of the snowfields!”

Batu roared with laughter, his amber eyes narrowing into slits. His thick arm clapped heavily onto Li Guanglong’s shoulder. “Drink!”

His speech in Chinese was still rough, but his fervor was undeniable. He poured Li Guanglong another brimming bowl.

Li Guanglong forced himself to endure the burning sting as the liquor seared his throat. With a smile, he replied, “To drink with Leader Batu is Li’s greatest honor.”

In secret, he circulated his true qi, dispersing the alcohol’s effect into his limbs. Yet his fingertips trembled slightly from nerves.

Earlier, Murong Xue had already slipped the drug into Batu’s wine bowl. Now it was just a matter of waiting for it to take effect.

In the corner sat Wan Zhong, his single hand resting on the hilt of his long blade, his wary gaze sweeping over the snowman warriors present.

The wound across his back ached dully, each breath pulling at torn flesh, but he clenched his teeth in silence.

Li Guanglong had earlier told him to remain behind and watch over the wounded, but Wan Zhong had stubbornly insisted on coming. Now, as he watched his master and Murong Xue act in concert, his palms were already slick with cold sweat.

After three rounds of drinking, Batu’s eyes began to glaze. His massive frame swayed, the beads around his neck clinking in a chaotic rhythm.

With a sudden crash, he slammed the table. Hot broth sloshed from the copper cauldron, splattering oil across the floor, but he seemed oblivious. “Friend… spirit deer’s friend…”

“Of course.” Li Guanglong seized the moment to raise his bowl. “When I return to the Central Plains, I shall surely invite Leader Batu to drink his fill again.”

From the corner of his eye, he caught Murong Xue making a discreet hand signal --- the drug was taking effect.

Half a tea’s time later, Batu gave a muffled grunt and collapsed with a thunderous crash. His massive body overturned the wine jars, spilling liquor across the icy floor, its pungent fumes filling the air.

The surrounding snowman warriors rose in alarm, but Murong Xue cut in swiftly: “The leader has drunk too much. Take him to the inner chamber to rest!”

Still half-dazed with drink themselves, several warriors saw no cause for doubt and hurried to carry Batu away.

Murong Xue exchanged a quick look with Li Guanglong, and the two of them slipped out of the igloo under the pretext of helping with the drunken leader.

The night wind was sharp as knives, biting against their faces.

Li Guanglong pulled his cloak tighter, following Murong Xue through the silent streets. The ice beneath their feet mirrored the leaden glow of the sky, stretching their shadows long and thin.

Wan Zhong followed close behind with two elite soldiers. The hiss of his unsheathing blade echoed unnervingly in the empty valley.

“The reindeer pen is just ahead,” Murong Xue whispered, pointing to a fenced enclosure faintly glimmering in the dark. “The hidden passage is beneath the easternmost shed. Three loose ice blocks cover the entrance.”

Li Guanglong’s heart was in his throat. Each step felt as though the ice beneath might crack open at any moment.

He could not help but glance back. The bonfires of Snowfang Valley still flickered in the distance, yet no voices could be heard. The silence was eerie. “You’re certain we won’t be discovered?” His low voice carried a faint tremor.

Murong Xue replied just as softly: “The High Priest’s Spirit Dance lasts two full hours. Right now is the guard’s changing shift. And with Batu unconscious, he won’t awaken before dawn.”

Though his words were confident, his stride quickened.

From the pen came the uneasy cries of reindeer, their steaming breath forming clouds in the freezing night.

Murong Xue lifted the curtain of a reindeer shed. A heavy smell of hay washed over them.

Crouching down, he tapped on the ice bricks. Sure enough, three of them echoed hollow.

“Quick!” Murong Xue signaled the soldiers to move the blocks, revealing a gaping black hole. “Down the stairs, walk about two miles, and you’ll reach the icefield beyond the valley.”

Li Guanglong was the first to descend, the damp chill surging over him with the scents of soil and snow.

The staircase was steep and narrow, only wide enough for one. Each step carried the faint crackle of ice breaking overhead.

He clenched his sword tight, sweat soaking the hilt. A sudden unease stirred within him --- everything seemed too smooth.

“Mr. Murong, are you sure no one else knows of this passage?” he asked again, unable to suppress his suspicion.

“Other than me and the former chieftain, now deceased, no one knows,” Murong Xue’s voice echoed from behind. “But if Your Highness keeps hesitating, once we’re caught, don’t blame me for not warning you.”

Li Guanglong held his tongue and quickened his pace.

Then, a faint glow appeared ahead. Murong Xue exclaimed excitedly: “The exit is here!”

They rushed forward and climbed out of the tunnel --- only to freeze in place.

Beneath the moonlight stood Batu’s towering figure, clear-eyed and steady, with not a trace of drunkenness. Behind him lined dozens of snowman warriors, their ice-crystal spears gleaming coldly like rows of frozen gravestones.

Batu’s amber eyes were sharp, his beads clattering with crisp notes that rang painfully in the silence of the night. - Marinien