Amur’s entire life had been devoted to pushing the Twelve Tribes west of the Tea River.
Plunder, plunder.
People of Li Bei slept on mountains and rivers, while people of the desert slept on yellow sand. They came to know each other through blades and swords, and generation after generation of heroes met on the banks of the Tea River. Spring came and autumn went—none were spared.
“War must always end,” Amur said, hanging the stone-bead headband onto the hilt of his blade. “I will send your head back to your brother.”
Mong rotated and descended. The hawks of Li Bei were silent. Xiao Chiye raised his left arm to block Mong, saying, “I’m afraid you won’t get that chance.”
Sand and gravel flew up. Through the rustling sound, the Mongdu Tribe’s advancing formation saw a long-handled short blade.
Barya regretted immediately and shouted, “Lu Guangbai—there’s also Lu Guangbai!”
Lu Guangbai, who had once penetrated deep into the desert, was as familiar with desert routes as the Hulu Tribe. Xiao Chiye’s remaining forces were not meant for a surprise attack—they were meant to lure the snake out of its hole.
Amur refused to fight casually, and only Xiao Chiye’s reckless charge could give him a glimpse of hope. If Doran had led the Yixiong Tribe away, then after tonight Xiao Chiye would still have to continue deeper—but Doran came back, completing the encirclement for him.
“Amur,” Xiao Chiye tightened his grip on the blade again. “War must end eventually.”
Yellow sand rolled endlessly. When Lu Guangbai rushed toward the Yixiong Tribe warriors, he suddenly retreated. The Li Bei cavalry behind him crashed forward. In the moment of passing, he filled the gap of the four-foot snake, and his long blade forcefully blocked the iron hammer of the four-foot snake.
The impact was heavy. Lu Guangbai’s boots slid backward in the sand. He supported himself with one arm, grabbed a handful of sand, and laughed. “Such great strength.”
The four-foot snake opened its arms, as if blocking the border troops.
Lu Guangbai’s long blade suddenly swept overhead, striking the iron hammer with repeated “pa pa” impacts. The four-foot snake had only fought Li Bei cavalry before; it had never encountered such an unusual weapon. Its hammer could not reach Lu Guangbai’s body, and its defense could not keep up with his speed, so it was forced to retreat repeatedly under the dense attacks.
The cavalry had already broken through the outer defense line, merging with Xiao Chiye from the side. Xiao Chiye did not remount, instead charging into the melee on foot. The Li Bei cavalry surged like a black tide, overwhelming everything.
Amur killed several men, meeting Xiao Chiye again amid the tumbling armor. Xiao Chiye’s blade came down from above, splitting Amur’s front robe. The Wolf Fang Blade was caught in a gap of the curved blade. Xiao Chiye forced forward two steps, pushing Amur backward.
Amur forced upward, breaking the suppression. But Xiao Chiye’s counterattack was swift; even the long journey had not drained him. At this moment he was extremely focused—so focused he did not care about his injuries. His eyes were terrifyingly calm.
The curved blade was knocked away, but did not leave his hand. Amur recovered it, then kicked Xiao Chiye in the abdomen. Xiao Chiye did not retreat. He forced through the impact and smashed the blade handle into Amur’s face.
Amur did not fall. Blood filled his mouth and his teeth ached from the blow.
Xiao Chiye’s fighting style was a mixture of many schools, but it never left its origin. Like Xiao Fangxu, he was domineering and violent—once he fought seriously, death was almost certain.
This was the young wolf king.
Amur’s left eye was already dim. He saw the moon burning, and the cries of the Snake Tribe tearing through the vast night. The stars that once belonged to him had all fallen. A hero at the end of his road had to admit he was already old.
Hansen.
His proud eagle.
Amur seemed to see his son’s departing figure again—on that same moonlit night, Hansen waved his arm, his reddish hair swallowed by darkness.
Each time Xiao Chiye swung his blade, Amur’s curved blade gave out a painful sound. Xiao Chiye’s sharpness was unrestrained, striking every weakest point.
This battle was no longer even—it had become a one-sided massacre by the Li Bei cavalry.
Doran fell from her horse and crashed to the ground, her dagger slipping away between iron hooves. Blood splashed across her face. She reached out and sobbed uncontrollably.
Baxing rushed into the chaos with his short blade. “My horse for you, Doran! Run!”
Doran held her stomach and shook her head. “You go!”
Baxing suddenly grabbed her arm and said sincerely, choking, “The little eagle must live… Red Pool Lake’s foolish girl, run—”
Blood flashed. Before he could finish, he collapsed into a pool of blood. Doran’s eyes widened in shock. “No…”
Chen Yang raised his helmet and looked at her coldly, speaking in Border Sand language: “A Chi killed our left flank in Endu. It was this man’s scheme. One debt repaid with another.”
Baxing still held her arm. Doran bent down, trying to pull him up, her voice trembling and breaking. “Stop…”
Fire burned, but the moon was cold.
Roars, horse cries, eagle calls.
More and more people fell. Iron hooves trampled tents. After the fire was endless ash. The once-powerful Snake Tribe of the desert was reduced to mud in one night, carrying the long-suppressed fury of Li Bei.
The fire outside the golden tent collapsed together. Amur’s stone-bead necklace broke under the Wolf Fang Blade. The Rainbow Eagle Banner, symbol of the strong tribe, finally fell in flames, and Xiao Chiye’s figure blocked everything.
Xiao Chiye forced Amur into retreat after relentless assault. He roared through the flames: “Amur!”
Amur struggled to block, sweat flooding his eyes.
Xiao Chiye grew fiercer with every strike. His arrogance came from the grasslands; only the land of Hongyan Mountain could give birth to such a man. His rising killing intent mixed with sweat—his eyes as sharp as blades, filled with blazing sun.
Amur’s curved blade finally slipped from his hand.
The moon grew thin. Dawn was near.
Amur’s stone beads rolled onto the ground, soaked in blood and sand. He looked up. Only a few hawks remained in the sky.
“The heavens favor the eagle,” Amur roared, raising his arm for the last time. “I, Amur, ruled the Six Tribes for twenty years! I have been to the interior of Da Zhou! I have lived up to the Rainbow Eagle Banner! The Tea River we dream of—”
The Wolf Fang Blade struck down. Amur blocked it with his arm brace.
“That Tea River we dream of,” Amur laughed wildly, “Xiao Chiye, in twenty years, the desert eagles will fly over Hongyan Mountain again. You can kill me, you can kill us—but you cannot kill the eagles of the desert! Twenty years, forty years—the desert will eventually have its true great khan!”
Xiao Chiye pressed down, roaring: “Twenty years, forty years—Li Bei wolves will guard the border forever! Come! I will wait for you at the Tea River! The Twelve Tribes will never cross it!”
Amur’s arm brace shattered completely. The blade followed through and ended his roar.
Doran’s sobbing stopped, then turned into heartbreaking wails. She crawled up, fell, then crawled again, clutching a dagger and rushing at Xiao Chiye.
The blade pointed at her forehead.
Tears blurred her face.
“Kill me! Xiao Chiye, kill me!”
Blood dripped onto her brow, mixing with her tears.
Dawn broke through the darkness, light spreading across the barren sand.
Xiao Chiye lifted his chin slightly and said: “Li Bei cavalry do not kill women.”
“Get on your horse and get out of this land. From now on, everything west of Moca River belongs to Li Bei. Without my order, if the Twelve Tribes step even one inch over it—”
He drove his blade into the sand in front of her.
“I will slaughter them all.”
Doran collapsed to her knees and cried.
Xiao Chiye sheathed his blade and did not look at her again. He turned back to his horse and faced the Li Bei cavalry.
Someone whispered: “We won…”
Xiao Chiye faced the sunrise and laughed loudly: “Great victory!”
Li Bei Wolf King!
Lu Guangbai felt surging pride and chased after him a few steps. “Hey—we don’t have horses!”
The cavalry laughed wildly in the desert wind. They turned from black clouds into spring thunder on the return road. Mong circled through the sky, breaking through the white clouds.
Home was ahead.
The victory report reached Dark Capital two months later. It was snowing.
In the warm hall, Shen Zechuan suddenly stood up. The scholars on both sides also stood.
“We won!” Yu Xiaozi slapped his thigh in excitement. “I knew it! Second Master’s in action—nothing can go wrong!”
Gao Zhongxiong beamed and said quickly, “I—I’ll write the report! This battle will be recorded in history!”
Because of the cold weather, Yao Wenyu had rarely appeared recently. Shen Zechuan urgently summoned him, but he was still on the way. Yao Wenyu suppressed a cough, and upon hearing the words “recorded in history,” exchanged a look with Kong Ling.
Kong Ling nodded slightly. “Now that Dark Capital is without a ruler, if we are to welcome Second Master, preparations must be made early.”
The scholars were all overjoyed. Only Shen Zechuan turned away slightly and asked softly:
“How is Ce’an?”