The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 70: A Map Written In Blood

Chapter 70: A Map Written In Blood

The gates of the capital rose high and hollow, the stone arches gleaming gold under a merciless sun. Sun Longzi passed beneath them without fanfare, flanked by two bloodied guards and caked in red that wasn’t his. There were no trumpets. No palace procession. Only silence.

Which suited him perfectly.

He had ridden hard from the mountains, the scroll tube secured beneath his arm like a blade in a sheath. He wore no helmet. His long, dark hair was damp with sweat and grit, hanging over his shoulders. The scabbard at his hip was spotted with dried mud, his uniform torn at the sleeve, and reeking of smoke and iron.

He looked like a man returning from hell.

He felt like one, too.

As he crossed through the final courtyard, a steward scurried ahead to announce his arrival, disappearing into the southern wing of the palace like a rat smelling fire. Sun Longzi didn’t follow. He stopped just shy of the council hall entrance, beneath a flowering paulownia tree, and listened.

He didn’t have to strain.

The shouting had already begun.

"The town of Xueshan fell four days ago!" a sharp voice barked. "And we still have no confirmation on troop numbers?"

"Chancellor Han," came the clipped reply, "we are receiving conflicting reports. Some say it was a minor scouting party. Others claim thousands crossed the river."

"A scouting party does not burn down a granary, execute an entire council, and leave no survivors!" the first man snapped.

"Enough," growled another—his voice lower, more gravel-edged. A military voice. "Arguing over numbers won’t change the fact that we’ve lost a trade center. Whether it was a hundred or ten thousand, Chixia and Yelan have crossed our border. And that means war."

"It’s not yet declared," a prim voice offered from the side. "His Majesty has not issued the seal for engagement. It would be improper—"

"Improper?" someone hissed. "People are dead. Daiyu’s land has been taken. What part of that is still polite to you?"

"Send a letter," the prim voice said tightly. "Request a formal explanation."

"And when they burn that too?" the military man shot back.

A pause.

Then a deep, oily voice purred, "Perhaps this is an opportunity. The Crown Prince’s new bride is from the west, is she not? Surly she can handle Yelan, even if they do team up with Chixia. Let the Witch defend our border. It is, after all, her duty as the wife of our Crown Prince."

Silence enveloped the hall.

A sick silence where not one of the many ministers in the meeting hall objected to the idea of sending a woman off to war.

Sun Longzi’s jaw flexed.

Before anyone could add another insult, the steward returned, bowing deeply.

"General Sun Longzi has returned from the western front," the man said breathlessly. "He bears the map of the western mountains."

The doors opened with a creak, and Sun Longzi stepped inside.

He didn’t rush. He didn’t posture. He moved like a stormfront—slow, deliberate, impossible to ignore.

Conversation stopped as he entered. Ministers turned. One gasped at the state of his uniform. The blood. The dust. The unreadable expression on his face.

He bowed, shallow and formal. "Your Majesty."

The Emperor sat on the jade dais, robes immaculate, face unreadable. His gaze flicked once to the blood on Sun Longzi’s armor, then to the scroll tube in his hand.

"You have it," he said, his voice impassive.

"I do," Sun Longzi replied, keeping his head low.

He approached the throne, each step echoing. The court didn’t speak. No one dared.

He presented the tube with both hands.

A eunuch stepped forward to take it. Another unrolled it across the side table beside the Emperor.

Whispers began immediately.

Lines of ink formed brutal geometry—symbols and notations marked every gorge and pass. Hundreds of tiny strokes. Traps, hidden weapons, and environmental kills. Some were circled in red while others were marked with strange curves and dots that meant nothing to the ministers.

But Sun Longzi understood all the markings but one. And so, too, did the Emperor.

"Four hundred and seventy-six traps," His Majesty said quietly.

"Yes," Sun Longzi replied. "And those were only the ones that we found. There could be more, but we are confident that we found them all."

The Emperor studied the map. "It’s no wonder that the West never managed to break the line. Not with that number of traps," he murmured.

"No," Sun Longzi agreed. "Because no one who tried... survived long enough to write about it."

The room fell into silence again.

A minister cleared his throat. "General, how many did you lose securing this?"

"Seventeen dead. Five crippled. Dozens more wounded."

"And yet you return alone?" the Emperor asked, eyes narrowing. "Your army remains behind?"

"Temporarily," Sun Longzi said smoothly. "I wanted to make sure that you got the map as fast as possible. Since the rest of the army is recovering, I made the decision to ride ahead so that you would have the map."

The Emperor tapped a finger against the scroll.

"You’ve done well," he said finally. "Some among my court feared the Red Demons had grown soft. That age and title had dulled your instincts."

Sun Longzi tilted his head. "Then it’s good I came to remind them."

Several ministers looked away.

The Emperor gestured to the eunuch. "This will be recorded in the archives. Perhaps it will be useful when we... reorganize the west."

Sun Longzi remained still.

The Emperor’s gaze sharpened. "And you found all the traps?"

"It is hard to believe that the number of traps that we found wasn’t all of them," Sun Longzi replied. "We were expecting only a dozen or so, but almost every foot of the mountain was protected with something sharp and dangerous."

"Which is to say that you can’t guarantee that there aren’t more traps laid out that you just couldn’t see," the Emperor said slowly.

Sun Longzi said nothing.

The Emperor smiled thinly. "No matter. You’ve given me what I asked for. You’ll be rewarded."

"Reward the dead," Sun Longzi said. "They earned it more than I did."

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed, but he let the words slide.

"Very well," he said. "You may rest. Return to your men and await your next orders."

Sun Longzi bowed once more, turned, and walked out of the room.

The doors shut behind him with a deep, final sound.

He exhaled slowly as he stepped into the courtyard. The sky had begun to darken. Wind picked up through the tiled rooftops, blowing dust against his skin. He looked up at the banners fluttering from the towers—red and gold and utterly untouched.

He didn’t stop walking.

Not until he reached the outer gates.

A stable hand was already waiting, a fresh horse saddled and ready. A pack of sealed documents tied to the saddlebag—orders from the Crown Prince. Sun Longzi mounted in silence.

The guards opened the gate.

He didn’t look back.

The capital was full of games and whispers.

But war... war belonged to soldiers.

And the Red Demon Army?

They were about to remind the South what real demons looked like.