Poison Consumes Liyue
The allied forces of Takeda Shingen and Date Masamune marched upon Qingce Village, where eighty thousand Liyue soldiers stood ready in strict formation.
At the height of the brutal battle, the Date army unexpectedly launched strange gas canisters laden with bacterial viruses.
When the gunsmoke cleared, defenders and one hundred and seventy thousand civilians perished one after another in agonizing screams. Liyue’s green mountains and clear rivers were reduced to rotting corpses and charred wasteland.
In the bloody slaughter, General Xiao Shanli was beheaded. Chongyun, Xingqiu and Ga Ming were defeated and forced to retreat.
Amid smoke-shrouded mounds of the dead, Hu Tao, Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, fainted and was captured. Date Masamune stared down at her with a cold sneer and said:
“After this battle, Liyue shall never have a place to bury its dead.”
Never had Qingce Village held so many lives, nor faced such bone-piercing despair.
The glinting armor of eighty thousand Liyue warriors merged into a cold expanse of iron, guarding every mountain pass and bamboo grove outside the village. Inside, a dense crowd of one hundred and seventy thousand terrified civilians packed the farmlands, eaves and alleyways, filling this once peaceful landscape to the point of overflowing. Far beyond, upon rolling terraced fields, the allied military camp spread across mountains like dark moss. The fluttering banners of Takeda Shingen’s Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain and Date Masamune’s One-Eyed Dragon wove a grim proclamation of death. The air hung heavy and suffocating; even the gurgling streams encircling the village flowed with a mournful, weeping tone.
General Xiao Shanli stood with his hand on his sword atop the front low wall. Beneath his iron helmet, his face bore the marks of exhaustion and unyielding resolve. Behind him, the young exorcist Chongyun gripped his longsword tightly, his knuckles white from strain. Xingqiu, raised in a scholarly household, put on a calm facade, yet the faint trembling of his sword tassel betrayed his inner turmoil. Ga Ming, hailing from the land of beast dances, silently checked his leather arm bindings, his gaze sharp as a feral beast poised to strike.
“For Liyue. Our homeland lies behind us—there is no turning back.” Xiao Shanli’s voice was quiet, yet it reached every soldier clearly, like a stone cast into still water, rippling forth waves of tragic resolve.
The battle broke at sunrise. Takeda’s red-armored cavalry charged wave after wave like a wildfire sweeping across the land, crashing against the spear-and-shield barricade formed by Liyue’s troops. Arrows blotted out the sky. The sharp clash of blades and deathly wails instantly drowned out the morning birdsong. Leveraging favorable terrain and a will to fight to the death, Liyue’s soldiers repelled the enemy again and again. Corpses piled high before the lines, blood soaked the soil, and stained the green grass deep crimson. Chongyun’s summoning talismans unleashed frost and ice; Xingqiu’s sword light fell dense as rain threads; Ga Ming darted through enemy ranks like a phantom, leaving chaos and ruin in his wake.
By afternoon, sunlight was blocked by thick smoke and dust, casting the sky into gloomy shadow. Within the allied main camp, Date Masamune’s single eye swept over the raging battlefield, glinting with impatience and cold cruelty. He raised his hand slightly.
An eerie, low rumble echoed from behind the allied lines—neither the boom of boulder catapults nor the shrill whistle of loosed arrows. Dozens of oddly shaped pottery jars streaked across the murky sky, trailing bizarre dark green vapors. They plummeted clumsily toward the heart of Qingce Village, toward the thickest crowds of people.
There were no earth-shaking explosions. The moment they hit the ground, the fragile pottery shells shattered, releasing billowing clouds of thick yellowish-green fog reeking of rot and sickly sweet stench. The fog spread swiftly, ignoring the protection of armor and swinging blades, slipping silently into nostrils and clinging to skin.
At first came violent coughing, as if one’s lungs would be torn apart. Soon after, soldiers discovered ghastly pustules forming in the gaps of their gauntlets and around their necks, their skin breaking out in ominous dark purple patches. Strength drained from their limbs like a receding tide. Crippling nausea and dizziness felled even the strongest warriors. Some clawed frantically at their throats until raw, bone-deep gashes opened; others collapsed to the ground, vomiting black blood mixed with fragments of internal organs.
Death no longer came from the familiar clash of blades on the battlefield. Instead, it spread in an ugly, excruciating form. Healthy flesh festered and decayed before everyone’s eyes. Liyue’s defensive lines crumbled from within. Soldiers fell in droves, their wails merging into the horrifying symphony of a living hell.
“Poison! Poison fog!” Xiao Shanli’s eyes blazed with fury. He roared, striving to steady his troops, yet a sickly sweet taste rose in his throat and his vision began to swim. He watched Chongyun and Xingqiu try to dispel the miasma with elemental power. Crystals and shimmering water flickered, yet their efforts were futile, swallowed in an instant by the deadly tide. Ga Ming covered his mouth and nose, his eyes blazing red. He tried to rush forward to protect the general, only to be pinned down by enemy soldiers already festering and driven mad by the poison.
Amid the chaos, elite Takeda samurai broke through the collapsing defenses and charged straight for the central command. Xiao Shanli still swung his sword with fierce strength, yet his strikes lost all precision. A flash of icy blade cut through the air. Filled with grief and rage, the head of this seasoned Liyue general parted from his body and rolled into the mud and blood.
“General Xiao!” Chongyun let out a mournful cry and rushed forward, only to be held back firmly by Xingqiu. Blood trickled from Xingqiu’s pale lips, his face ashen. “Go! Flee now! We cannot all die here!” Roaring, Ga Ming hewed a bloody path through the enemy. The three escaped the village with a handful of surviving soldiers, leaving behind Qingce Village, now turned into a vast graveyard.
The suffering of the villagers inside was even more harrowing. Left defenseless, they fell in swathes amid the poison fog. Parents shielded their children, husbands and wives clung to each other, all contorting into twisted black corpses in death. The terraced streams turned into toxic sludge; emerald bamboo withered, flowers withered away, and the stench of the dead filled the sky. The once fairy-tale-like Qingce Village devolved within hours into barren, death-choked rot and charred rock.
Amid mountains of corpses, Hu Tao, Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and her few remaining attendants struggled to rescue the wounded who still clung to life. Her usual lively, mischievous plum-blossom eyes were now filled only with overwhelming grief and numbness. Her slender figure stumbled across the sea of corpses and blood, futilely striving to hold onto fading lives. When she watched a little girl turn black and cold in her arms, the last thread of her resolve snapped. Overwhelmed by crushing sorrow and the poison she had inhaled, her vision darkened, and her small frame slumped limply between two huddled corpses.
The roar of battle gradually faded, leaving only sporadic finishing strikes and the faint groans of the dying. Surrounded by his personal guards, Date Masamune stepped across the slippery, corpse-strewn ground to the heart of the battlefield. His gaze swept over the hellish scene, finally settling on the fallen brown-cloaked figure—the distinctive robes of the Wangsheng Director standing stark amid the ruin.
He stepped forward, using the tip of his sword to brush debris from Hu Tao’s face, revealing her delicate features still visible even in unconsciousness, now stained with grime. No emotion stirred in Date Masamune’s single eye, only the cold satisfaction of having achieved his goal.
He sheathed his blade and spoke his judgment to the deathly silent land, as well as to all surviving and absent people of Liyue. His voice was quiet yet laced with icy cold:
“After this battle, Liyue shall never have a place to bury its dead.”
A cold wind swept through the land, carrying away a wisp of death’s sickly sweet stench—but it could never blow away the deep despair etched into this soil.
毒噬璃月
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武田信玄与伊达政宗联军压境轻策庄，八万璃月军严阵以待。
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战况最激烈时，伊达军竟发射装载细菌病毒的神秘气弹。
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硝烟散尽，守军与十七万百姓在痛苦哀嚎中相继毒发身亡，碧水青山化为腐尸焦土。
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血战中萧山篱将军头颅被斩，重云、行秋、嘉明溃败撤离。
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硝烟弥漫的尸堆中，仪倌胡桃昏厥被俘，伊达政宗冷笑凝视：
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“此战之后，璃月将永无葬身之地。”
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轻策庄从未承载过如此多的生命，也从未面临过如此彻骨的绝望。
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八万璃月将士，甲胄的反光连成一片冰冷的铁色，扼守着庄外每一道隘口，每一片竹林。庄内，是黑压压惶恐无措的十七万百姓，他们挤在田间地头，屋檐巷尾，将这片昔日宁静祥和的山水填得几乎要溢出来。更远处，连绵的梯田之上，联军的大营如同晦暗的苔藓，覆盖了山野，那是武田信玄的“风林火山”旗与伊达政宗的“独眼龙”旗交织成的死亡宣告。空气凝滞，压得人喘不过气，连环绕庄子的淙淙溪流，其声响都透着一股呜咽。
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萧山篱将军按剑立于最前线的矮墙上，铁盔下的面容刻满了疲惫与坚毅。他身后，少年方士重云紧握着手中的长剑，指尖因用力而发白；书香门第的行秋虽故作镇定，但微微颤抖的剑穗暴露了他内心的波澜；来自舞兽之地的嘉明，则沉默地检查着臂缚的皮革，眼神如蓄势待发的勐兽。
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“为了璃月，身后即是家园，无路可退。”萧山篱的声音不高，却清晰地传入每个士兵的耳中，像一块投入死水的石头，激起一圈悲壮的涟漪。
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战争的序幕在日出时分拉开。武田军的赤备骑兵如同燎原之火，一波波冲击着璃月军结成的枪盾壁垒。箭矢遮天蔽日，刀剑碰撞的锐响与垂死的哀嚎瞬间取代了清晨的鸟鸣。璃月军依仗地利与决死的意志，一次次将敌军击退，阵前尸骸堆积，鲜血浸透了泥土，将碧绿的草地染成暗红。重云的符箓引动冰霜，行秋的剑光如雨丝般绵密，嘉明则如鬼魅般穿梭于敌阵，所过之处人仰马翻。
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战至午后，阳光被浓烟与尘土遮蔽，天空晦暗。联军本阵中，伊达政宗那只独眼扫过焦灼的战场，闪过一丝不耐与冷酷。他微微抬手。
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一种异样的、低沉的闷响从联军阵后传来，并非巨石抛投的轰鸣，也非箭矢离弦的尖啸。数十枚造型怪异的陶罐，拖着诡异的墨绿色尾迹，划破浑浊的天空，向着轻策庄的中心区域，向着人群最密集的地方，歪歪斜斜地坠落。
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它们没有惊天动地的爆炸。只是在触地的瞬间，脆弱的陶罐壳体碎裂，释放出大股大股浓浊的、带着腐烂甜腥气息的黄绿色烟雾。烟雾迅速弥漫，无视了甲胄的防护，无视了挥舞的刀剑，无声无息地钻入鼻腔，沾染皮肤。
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起初是剧烈的咳嗽，仿佛要将肺都咳出来。紧接着，士兵们发现自己的手甲缝隙、脖颈处开始出现诡异的脓疱，皮肤泛起不祥的黑紫色斑块。力气如同退潮般从四肢百骸流走，剧烈的恶心与眩晕击倒了最雄壮的汉子。有人痛苦地抓挠着自己的喉咙，直到抓出深可见骨的血痕；有人蜷缩在地，呕吐出混合着内脏碎片的黑血。
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死亡不再是战场上司空见惯的刀剑相加，而是以一种极其丑恶、极其痛苦的形式蔓延。健康的躯体在肉眼可见的速度下溃烂、腐朽。璃月军的防线从内部开始瓦解，士兵成片地倒下，哀嚎声此起彼伏，汇成一片人间地狱的交响。
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“毒！是毒烟！”萧山篱目眦欲裂，他怒吼着，试图稳住阵脚，但一股腥甜已然涌上喉头，视野开始摇晃。他看到重云和行秋试图用元素力驱散毒雾，冰晶与水光闪烁，却如杯水车薪，瞬间被那死亡的浊流吞没。嘉明捂着口鼻，双眼赤红，想要冲过来护卫他，却被几名同样开始溃烂发狂的敌军缠住。
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混乱中，武田军的精锐武士突破了濒临崩溃的防线，直取中军。萧山篱挥舞长剑，剑风仍烈，却已失了准头。一道冰冷的刀光闪过，这位璃月宿将的头颅带着不甘与愤怒，飞离了身躯，滚落在泥泞与血泊之中。
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“萧将军！”重云发出一声悲鸣，想要冲前，却被行秋死死拉住。行秋嘴角溢着血，脸色惨白，“走！快走！不能都死在这里！”嘉明怒吼着挥刀劈开一条血路，三人带着少数残兵，向着庄外溃围而去，身后是已然化作巨大坟场的轻策庄。
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庄内，百姓的惨状更甚。无人保护的他们，在毒雾中成批地倒下，父母护着孩子，夫妻相拥，最终都化为姿态扭曲的黑色尸骸。梯田流水被染成毒浆，翠竹焦枯，繁花凋零，尸臭冲天，昔日仙境般的轻策庄，几个时辰内便沦为了只有死亡气息的腐土焦岩。
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在堆积如山的尸体间，往生堂的堂主胡桃，正带着仅存的几名仪倌，试图救助那些尚未完全咽气的伤者。她往日灵动狡黠的梅花瞳此刻只剩下巨大的悲恸与麻木，纤细的身影在尸山血海中蹒跚移动，徒劳地想要拉住那些不断消逝的生命。直到她看到一个小女孩在她怀中迅速变得青黑、冰冷，终于，一直紧绷的弦断裂了，极致的悲痛与吸入的毒气共同作用，她眼前一黑，瘦小的身体软软地倒了下去，倒在两具蜷缩的尸骸之间。
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战斗的喧嚣逐渐平息，只剩下零星的补刀声和垂死者微弱的呻吟。伊达政宗在亲卫的簇拥下，踏过遍布尸骸、粘稠湿滑的土地，来到了这片核心战场。他的目光扫过这人间惨景，最后落在那抹倒地的褐色身影上，那往生堂的堂主服饰格外显眼。
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他走上前，用刀尖轻轻挑开遮住胡桃面容的杂物，露出那张即使昏迷也难掩清丽，此刻却沾满污迹的脸庞。伊达政宗的独眼中没有任何波动，只有一丝达成目的的冰冷快意。
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他收回刀，对着这片彻底死寂的天地，也像是对着所有幸存或未在场的璃月人，宣告了他的判决，声音不高，却带着彻骨的寒意：
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“此战之后，璃月将永无葬身之地。”
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寒风卷过，带走一丝甜腥的死亡气息，却带不走这片土地上深重的绝望。
This chapter is based on real historical events.
In 1943, the Japanese invading army poisoned rivers and water sources in the Luxi area of Shandong Province. They also deliberately breached dykes to trigger floods, spreading poison and plague across the region through floodwaters.
This man-made catastrophe perpetrated by the Japanese army caused the deaths of as many as 420,000 Chinese civilians in Shandong Province.
此章节基于真实历史原型：1943年，侵华日军于山东鲁西地区蓄意向河道水源投毒，又人为决堤引发洪水，借水流扩散毒疫。这场人为惨案致使山东境内平民遇难人数高达42万人。
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