Empire Ascension: The Rise of the Fated One-Chapter 252: Battle of Ladakh part -10

Despite everything falling apart, the presence of Commander Chewang had been the last thread holding Prince Sidkeong’s sanity together. He was the ultimate trump card—the one person Sidkeong was certain could weather any storm, no matter how fierce. But his sudden demise was a devastating blow, shattering that final thread of control.

Overcome with blind fury, Sidkeong swung his sword in a wild arc, decapitating the messenger in a single strike.

"Useless piece of shit."

Blood sprayed from the headless body, splattering the ground in a crimson pool as the corpse trembled before collapsing.

The brutal execution sent a wave of terror through the room. The prince no longer looked human—he was a demon incarnate. No one dared to move, fearing they might become the next victim of his unchecked rage.

Sidkeong exhaled, the warmth of fresh blood trickling down his face. He wiped it away, but the gesture only made him look more menacing, his fury simmering beneath a now eerie calm.

His sharp gaze fell on one of his guards. "Arrange a meeting. I want every high-ranking officer present, no matter their post or task. And bring Commander Chewang’s body."

Just as he turned to leave, his eyes locked onto the trembling squad leader. His voice was like steel. "Next time, it will be you—unless you catch the culprit or bring me a lead."

With that, he strode away.

The tension in the air finally eased as the prince departed, but for the squad leader, the nightmare was far from over. His legs gave out, and he pissed himself on the spot. Whether Sidkeong had noticed or simply ignored him didn’t matter. One thing was certain—he had to make himself useful, or he wouldn’t live to regret it.

After an hour, in another chamber of another stockade,

Commander Chewang’s body lay on a bed, wrapped in a white cloth, with petals scattered over it. Seated beside him was Prince Sidkeong, silent and brooding. Seven field commanders stood nearby: four from Ladakh and three from the Tibetan reinforcements, along with two advisors.

None were seated; unlike before, when they were at least given chairs, this time, they found none. They had been forcibly summoned, and the shift in atmosphere was undeniable. But no one dared to voice a complaint. The prince hadn’t spoken a single word since his arrival. His gaze remained fixed on Chewang’s lifeless form, as if mourning a father rather than a commander.

The Tibetan representatives were even more uneasy than their Ladakhi counterparts.

Why?

They had not only lost their prince but also their commander in the morning’s battle on the southern front. Now, they were at the mercy of the Ladakhi leadership. The same held true for the advisor who had sided with Sidkeong—now the sole leader of the entire army.

Then, another figure hesitantly entered—the same squad leader whom the prince had spared earlier. The moment he stepped in, Sidkeong’s piercing gaze locked onto him, as if he had been waiting.

Without a word, Sidkeong shifted his grip on his sword’s hilt and rose to his feet. His movement alone was enough to make the other commanders turn their attention toward the newcomer. In an instant, the squad leader became the center of the room.

Understanding the weight of the moment, he wasted no time and began his report in a careful, measured tone.

"Your Highness, I have news. There was one guard who accompanied Lord Commander Chewang before the cowardly ambush. He is gravely injured, so I could not bring him here myself. According to our intelligence, the attackers resembled our own mountaineers, and they are most likely from the traitor prince’s unit."

The mere mention of Prince Tsewang made Sidkeong flinch. He had loathed the man from the very beginning. However, hearing him openly labeled a traitor brought him a slight sense of calm—at least now, Tsewang’s supporters in the place would be forced to reconsider their stance.

The squad leader, sensing the shift, pressed on. Producing two bloodied arrows, he presented them.

"These were used in the ambush. If you examine the craftsmanship, it matches the weapons our own army uses. Additionally, the injured soldier I spoke to conversed in our native tongue, meaning the assassins are undoubtedly from within our ranks. Most likely, they were sent under traitor Tsewang’s orders to gather intelligence and sabotage our supplies. Lord Commander Chewang was ambushed when he least expected it—while inspecting the southern perimeter for a defensive renewal."

He swallowed hard as he finished. Truth be told, he had pieced much of this together through speculation, connecting dots where he found gaps. But he needed to present something concrete, a clue that would justify his survival.

Yet, Sidkeong remained indifferent. He didn’t react—not a single word, not a shift in expression. The only sound was the slow crack of his neck as he tilted it slightly, his gaze never leaving the squad leader’s eyes.

Feeling the weight of impending doom, the squad leader did the only thing he could. He dropped to one knee, bowing his head.

"Since I have failed to capture the culprit, I offer my head to Your Highness."

Of course, he didn’t mean it. But it was his last, desperate gamble—praying that the prince would deem him too useful to kill.

Sidkeong finally moved. He stepped forward, slowly, unsheathing his sword halfway before stopping. His gaze swept across the room, taking in every commander and advisor present.

"Despite his failure," Sidkeong said, his voice cold but steady, "he has at least brought me a clue about the attack. And now, he willingly offers me his head. So tell me, all of you—how should I deal with you?"

His eyes burned with accusation.

"You were present, yet the enemy infiltrated our ranks, killed not just my commander, but yours as well—along with your prince. Tell me, what answer should I give to my king? Or to yours? I alone am spared, left to bear the full weight of your incompetence. If I am destined to face ruin for this, would it not be best to shed more blood?"

The words sent a chilling realization through the room. The prince had masterfully turned the situation against them, shifting the blame from himself onto every commander present.

The execution of the messenger had not been mere blind rage—it was a calculated move, meant to instill fear and force them to share his burden. And now, it had worked.

No one spoke.

They all understood the gravity of the predicament they were in.

Everyone fell to their knees, pleading for mercy and accepting their failure.

"Forgive me, Your Highness. It was my incompetence that allowed them to breach our defenses."

"I plead guilty and ask for mercy for failing to maintain security within the camp."

Amidst the desperate pleas, the Ladakhi advisor raised a valid concern. "I accept my failure and ask for forgiveness, Prince. But instead of dwelling on our mistakes, I wish to correct them. Given the intelligence we’ve just received, we are in a dire situation. I offer my assessment."

His words were like a flicker of hope, drawing all eyes to the prince, waiting to see if the "mad demon" would regain his composure. After all, they were still valuable assets, and a second chance could allow them to redeem themselves.

Fortunately, the prince had no intention of punishing them further. He had merely wanted them to taste despair before forcing them toward a quicker solution and unite them in same page. With a slow, deliberate motion, he sheathed his sword and signaled the squad leader to step aside. The man was the first to stand, prompting the others to follow.

Then, Prince Sidkeong spoke. "I am interested in your assessment. Share your thoughts."

The Ladakhi advisor stepped forward. "If I am not mistaken, by now, the enemy has gathered enough intelligence on our base structure. At dawn, they will likely launch a full-scale attack, using the southern bombardment as cover. Given the circumstances, our best course of action is to evacuate and retreat to the capital."

One of the Ladakhi field commanders immediately protested, eager to prove his worth. "Nonsense! Retreating now, when we still hold key positions and can repel their advance. It will only embolden the enemy. Once we fall back, they will be even harder to face!"

At that moment, Field Commander Gyatso interjected. "As much as I hate to admit it, the advisor is right. If we don’t evacuate today, we may not get another chance. It’s better to preserve our forces while we still can."

He hesitated before continuing, his expression grim. "And I say this not out of fear, but because I’ve seen firsthand what we are up against. They possess an advanced explosive device—small enough to be thrown by hand yet powerful enough to engulf everything in flames. If they use it tomorrow, we will be defenseless."

His words sent ripples of unease through the chamber.

He pressed on. "The explosion that killed Lord Commander Chewang—it was caused by the same weapon. I saw it with my own eyes."

The atmosphere grew heavy with dread. Many had been too preoccupied with the chaos of battle to fully grasp the nature of the attack, and now that the truth was laid bare, their fear deepened.

Prince Sidkeong finally spoke. "If we attempt to retreat, the enemy will notice immediately. We’ll be overrun before we even make it out of the pass."

The Tibetan advisor hesitantly chimed in. "But Your Highness, isn’t it still better to take the risk rather than remain here like sitting ducks waiting to be butchered? We have also lost our supply stock. We cannot hold out for long."

A murmur of agreement spread through the room, but no one had an immediate solution—until Commander Gyatso stepped forward with a bold proposition.

"I suggest, Your Highness, that we send two elite squads on sabotage missions to both enemy frontlines. Their task will be to cause as much chaos as possible—setting fires, assassinating key officials, and destroying enemy supplies. Meanwhile, the main army will retreat, burning anything we cannot carry and obstructing the mountain pass to slow their pursuit. If you permit it, I will personally lead one of these teams."

The prince’s gaze sharpened. The plan intrigued him. He considered it for a moment before adding his own condition.

"Bring me Tsewang’s head, and you will be handsomely rewarded."

Commander Gyatso’s determination wavered for a moment. He had wanted to take revenge for the morning’s humiliation by launching attack at southern front, but this new demand would force him to rethink his approach.

Then, Prince Sidkeong made an announcement that took everyone by surprise.

"This offer is extended to all field commanders. We will expand the operation. Each of you will assemble a five-man team and take part in this mission. Whoever returns with the heads of enemy leaders and their military tokens will be pardoned and rewarded."

The enemy had sown chaos with just a handful of men, and he intended to do the same. However, not everyone shared his resolve. Giving everyone freedom to pick their own team is the only freedom he can spare to them. If they cant even do this then he doesn’t need them anymore.

A heavy silence followed. Some wanted to object, to plead for reconsideration, but the prince was in no mood for debate. Even the squad leader was forced to join field commander gyatso’s unit. The guards swiftly ushered them out.

Preparations began immediately.

Unmovable furniture and spare materials were broken apart and scattered across the roads to obstruct enemy movement. Supplies were packed, and the rest set ablaze. The entire camp was mobilized for withdrawal.

It was still evening, but the reluctant gazes of the warriors turned toward the coming night. Today’s night is going to be longer.