In the night, it was windless around the border camp. So the red fire flames on a pyre could gently shake. Dozens of the Tang Empire's border army elites dispersed around or fell a sound sleep or vigilantly stood guard. Only Ning Que and that captain sat next to the bonfire.
During the daytime, the captain called Ning Que as Mr. Thirteen, as if not knowing Ning Que's true identity. But at this time beside the warm bonfire, he had already changed the appellation in a soft voice. "Your Excellency, we're really going to Dongsheng Stockaded Village tomorrow? It's too close to the Yans. There may be some troubles there."
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