Dimensional Supermarket - Chapter 94

Snow blankets the land. Piles of it gather on the bare branches of trees, and the slightest disturbance below causes the snow to tumble down in a flurry. The wind cuts like blades, sharp and fierce, and a single gust across one’s face can leave behind a wound.

The long procession advances like a trail of ants. The hoofprints left by the horses are swiftly buried beneath the wind and snow.

The white landscape is so blinding, it’s nearly impossible to determine direction.

Clad in cloth armor, the soldiers trudge through the snow. Their noses have turned black, their leather boots are soaked through, and their hands and feet are nearly numb. Yet they can only move forward in a daze.

At the rear of the procession, a wooden-wheeled carriage has sunk into the snow. More than a dozen soldiers push with all their might, but it will not budge.

Beside the carriage stands a general in leather armor. His voice is almost drowned out by the wind, forcing him to shout hoarsely, “Your Majesty! We must abandon the carriage!”

Inside, the man is wrapped in a thick fur blanket, yet he still trembles violently from the cold. He tries to suppress the shivering. His brows are furrowed with resentment as he replies helplessly, “Bring my horse.”

But once he abandons the carriage and mounts the horse, the blanket can no longer cover him. Chen Hou doesn’t dare breathe too deeply. Each inhalation brings icy air into his lungs, stabbing his insides with pain.

The general rides beside Chen Hou. They stay close so they can hear each other over the howling wind.

“Your Majesty, our food and fodder…”

Chen Hou grits his teeth. “Tell the men to eat snow to fill their stomachs. We have no idea where we are. We can’t waste rations. Lord Zhao… lied to me!”

The general tightens his lips. “The Grand Tutor warned you, my lord. Lord Zhao is cunning. Such generosity could only be a trap.”

Chen Hou gives a bitter smile. “Of course I knew. How could I not know? But the State of Chen is weak. For years, whether it was Zhao or Zheng, whenever they asked for help, Chen always answered. What do they say about me? That I’m like my father—a timid, cowardly man, unfit to be an emperor. What do they know? Not just Zhao and Zheng—even Jin commands 80,000 troops. And us? Scraping everything together, we’ve barely raised 50,000—how many among them are soldiers, and how many are old, weak, or mere slaves?”

Chen Hou coughs twice, and the general quickly says, “Your Majesty, please take care of yourself!”

Chen Hou waves a hand. “It’s fine. At least I named the crown prince before I left. If I don’t make it back, my wife will protect our son. In the end, it is my greed,” he sighs.

Zhao launches an attack on Lu and promises to give Chen three strategic passes bordering Lu if Chen joins the attack from the other side, and they’ll split Lu’s territory.

Chen Hou hesitates again and again, but eventually agrees.

But Lu has capable ministers and fierce generals.

Prince Ao of Lu, the duke’s own brother, enters the military at thirteen and leads troops into battle at fifteen, conquering dozens of counties south of the Jiu River—territory that originally belongs to Wei but now belongs wholly to Lu.

This bolsters Lu’s national strength immensely. Just those ten counties can yield 200,000 soldiers.

Before the Duke of Lu ascends, Lu’s army numbers under 300,000. Now, it boasts 600,000 strong.

Lu fights nearly every year, and despite constant conscription, still maintains 600,000 troops.

The Grand Tutor warns Chen Hou: Duke Lu and Prince Ao are essential to Lu. Prince Ao commands elite forces, and yet Duke Lu never doubts him. Monarch and minister work in harmony, a match that forges legends.

If only the State of Chen has a general like Prince Ao… they wouldn’t have to hide away in obscurity.

Chen Hou winces and sighs again. “It is my greed…”

The general quickly says, “Your Majesty only wants to strengthen Chen. If we don’t make the attempt, even without war, Chen will eventually… perish.”

Chen Hou’s eyes redden. He gently shakes his head and falls silent.

The people of Chen can endure no more. No matter how fertile the land, it can’t withstand the constant demands of other nations. The grain given away—where does it come from? From the mouths of their own people. Though Chen is a bountiful land, its own people go hungry. And all because he is a cowardly king.

“I only hope my son doesn’t become like me…” Chen Hou gazes toward the snow-capped mountains ahead.

He thinks Zhao will take the lead in attacking Lu. Chen’s forces will merely provide support. If it succeeds, they’ll gain three passes, and Chen’s strength will grow. Then they won’t have to live under Lu’s shadow.

If it fails, they’ll just return home—nothing lost.

To prove his sincerity, Chen Hou personally goes into battle.

But Zhao uses Chen’s army as the vanguard.

Intercepted by Lu’s forces, they lose the bulk of their troops, are separated from the main army, and can only flee into the wilderness.

Now, trapped in this frozen land, without direction, and with most of their supplies looted, the king of Chen is likely to die in this desolate snowfield.

His prince is still young. Even with help from his wife’s family…

Chen Hou doesn’t dare think further.

Soldiers keep collapsing. Others walk past them, and soon the fallen are buried under snow, leaving only mounds behind.

As night approaches, they need to find boulders or caves to block the wind. If not, they’ll have to camp in the open, and the colder night will surely claim more lives.

“Your Majesty, have some water.” The general takes out a water pouch. Even though he has kept it close to his body, the water has frozen solid.

Chen Hou sees this and gives a wry smile. “There’s snow everywhere. Why drink water? Just eat snow. Snow is a good thing. It quenches thirst, fills the stomach.” He looks up at the sky, now glowing with an orange-red hue as if aflame. “Next year, the people of Chen will have another good harvest.”

The general says, “Don’t lose hope, Your Majesty. The prince is still young. If Your Majesty doesn’t return, the other states will pressure him. Even with a good harvest, the people of Chen won’t get to eat it. Only if Your Majesty returns will there be a chance to change things.”

“We swear to escort Your Majesty back to the capital!” The general raises his voice again: “We swear to escort Your Majesty back to the capital!”

The soldiers echo: “We swear to escort Your Majesty back to the capital!”

Chen Hou smiles faintly. “Seems I’m not such an unpopular king after all.”

Night falls. The wind grows even fiercer. Chen Hou wraps his face with cloth, but the exposed skin is still scratched raw by the cold. He doesn’t dare look back. The snow mounds behind them are all the fallen sons of Chen.

Perhaps, he thinks, it would be a blessing to die here. If he returns home, how can he face the citizens who have lost their husbands and sons?

They are good men, willing to die for their country. Yet they don’t die in battle—but from cold and hunger.

And it is his greed that leads to their deaths.

“Your Majesty, we must climb the mountain.” The general leads the way. With no dry firewood and darkness falling, they can no longer advance if they don’t find shelter.

Chen Hou sways on horseback. Alarmed, the general cries, “Your Majesty!”

Chen Hou forces himself upright. “I’m fine. Let’s climb.”

They still haven’t found a cave when the last light fades. In the howling wind, the soldiers’ will to live begins to fade. Many just want to sit down and rest. The cavalry holds on, but most of the infantry are gone.

No one believes they’ll make it home alive.

All that remains is despair and exhaustion.

“Just a bit further,” Chen Hou says to the general. “Maybe there’s a cave at the summit.”

They have to find shelter to start a fire. Even without dry wood, they need something to burn.

The soldiers obey and keep moving uphill. In the dim moonlight, more and more fall—some even fall from horseback. No one stops. They can’t afford to. Death is ignored.

The path grows more treacherous. Chen Hou doesn’t know how long they walk. He only knows the numbers are dwindling, the wind getting colder. Without the general beside him, he might have already fallen.

Finally, near the peak, Chen Hou’s body gives out. He slumps from his horse.

“Your Majesty!” The general leaps down, catches him, and kneels, cradling Chen Hou’s upper body. His calm facade crumbles. “Your Majesty! You mustn’t die! The people of Chen are counting on you!”

“Zhao… Duke Zhao has wolfish ambitions…” Chen Hou whispers, gripping the general’s wrist with the last of his strength. “Lu… Duke Lu has… has many powerful generals… If you make it back… be loyal to my wife… protect her and my son…”

Tears well in the general’s eyes as soldiers gather around.

“Your Majesty!”

“Your Majesty!”

“May Your Majesty live forever!”

At that moment, the scout who has gone ahead returns, galloping through the snow. Waving a red cloth, he dares not shout. He stops, falls from his horse, and cries, “Your Majesty! General! There’s something strange on the mountaintop!”

“What is it? Speak!” the general demands.

The scout crawls up from the snow. “There’s a strange house up there—very square, brightly lit. I didn’t hear any voices, but I saw people inside.” He whispers, “This place is desolate—not even wild animals come here. I fear… it may be a trap…”

The general looks down at the unconscious Chen Hou. His face is ghostly pale, his ears and nose turning red and blue. If they delay, he will surely die.

“Let’s go!” The general carries Chen Hou onto a horse and has a personal guard hold him steady. Mounting his own horse again, he commands, “For the king’s sake, even if it’s a trap, we must try! My men, follow me!”