The river crashes against the shore, sending spray into the air that catches the sunlight like broken glass. I stand at the edge of the cliff, staring down at the armor neatly stacked below - Chong Yingbiao's armor, the distinctive plume bent just as it was when Jiang Wenhuan's arrow struck him from his horse.

"He must have jumped," Jin Kui says beside me, his voice hollow with disbelief. "Only疯了 would jump from this height."

Only Chong Yingbiao would jump from this height, chasing his enemy to the death.

We make our way down the treacherous path to the riverbank. There, half-submerged in the muddy water, lies the proof we both dreaded to find. Chong Yingbiao, our leader, our brother-in-arms, still and silent.

I drop to my knees in the mud, barely registering the cold wetness soaking through my uniform. My hands shake as I reach out, afraid to touch him yet unable to do otherwise. His skin is cold, unnaturally pale beneath the dried blood and river muck.

Jin Kui stands behind me, silent for once. The river continues its relentless rush past us, carrying away something irreplaceable. The world feels smaller suddenly, emptier. We were just boys when we left our homes as hostages, but Chong Yingbiao made us feel like warriors. Made us believe we had a purpose.

Now he's gone. And we're just boys again, kneeling in the mud beside the Yellow River, facing a future without the man who gave us strength.