Although Li Xiong had been forced back by Ji Gang, he was not afraid of him. With absolute certainty, he said, “I’m not lying. I’ve seen him. There was a portrait of him in Gedale. My big brother used to live there—I remember it clearly!”
Fei Sheng immediately felt something was wrong. He knew he had not yet become one of Shen Zechuan’s inner circle—there were things he should not be present to hear. So he stood up at once and said, “Looks like he’s eaten enough, my lord. I’ll go tell the kitchen they don’t need to serve any more meat.”
Once Fei Sheng withdrew, Shen Zechuan invited Ji Gang to sit and said to Li Xiong, “Take a closer look. Are you sure it was my portrait?”
Li Xiong clutched the handkerchief he was using to wipe his mouth, studied Shen Zechuan again, and said hesitantly, “It looks a bit like you… but also not quite…”
Something stirred in Shen Zechuan’s mind. He idly moved the spoon in the chilled plum soup, lowering his gaze as he said, “The portrait you saw—it was of a woman, wasn’t it?”
Li Xiong suddenly understood. “That’s right! It was a woman—but you’re a man.”
In that brief instant, countless possibilities flashed through Shen Zechuan’s mind. He looked at the sour plums swirling in the soup and recalled what Zhou Gui had once said—then thought of his mother, Bai Cha, and of Lei Jingzhe, who had just returned within the borders of Dunzhou.
“What kind of place is ‘Gedale’?” Shen Zechuan asked calmly.
“Gedale lies east of the Chaishi River, within Biansha territory. At first, it was a temporary refuge for Zhongbo bandits fleeing the Zhongbo garrison. Later, they started trafficking innocent women. My elder brother, Tan Tai Long, led the garrisons of two prefectures to wipe them out. The survivors fled to join the Biansha cavalry. At the time, the Youying Tribe was stationed there,” Tan Tai Hu said, looking up as Meng cut through the clouds.
“Lei Jingzhe came from there. After leaving the Zhu family, he had nowhere to go. He wanted to build his own bandit force, so he went to Gedale. But for some reason, he failed and eventually returned to Duanzhou, where he joined Lei Changming and began to rise.”
“That’s because after Tan Tai Long wiped out the bandits in Gedale, the Youying Tribe moved north—and the bandits who had joined them went along,” Chen Yang added, crouching to rub a handful of dry soil. “The Youying Tribe now serves as reserve cavalry for the Hanshe Tribe. All the falcons of Biansha are trained by them. Originally, their status among the Twelve Tribes was low—basically ‘falcon slaves.’ But twenty years ago, a hero appeared among them.”
Tan Tai Hu, not being from Libei, didn’t understand the term.
Gu Jin explained from the side, “It means ‘hero.’”
“You know Biansha is made up of many tribes, right?” Chen Yang said, glancing back with a smile. “Only tribes that have produced a ‘hero’ can be counted among the Twelve Tribes. Coincidentally, our prince and that hero were born in the same year. While our prince built the Libei cavalry at Luoxia Pass, that man conquered the Youying, Gouma, and Changjiu tribes in the desert. With his falcons, he defeated the old king of the Hanshe Tribe in the north. Since then, he became the only ‘Great Hero’ since the Yongyi era to command four tribes—and Libei’s greatest enemy.”
Tan Tai Hu was startled. “Could it be…?”
Xiao Chiye had appeared behind them at some point. He tipped back his waterskin, drained it, and said as he tied it off, “It’s Amuer.”
They stepped aside as Xiao Chiye climbed onto a mound, looking out toward Hongyan Mountain.
“Amuer is the most likely to become the Great Khan of Biansha. He wants to unify all twelve tribes,” Xiao Chiye said. His sharp nose cast a faint shadow as he turned his head. “He built the strongest cavalry Biansha has ever seen—the deepest force to ever penetrate Da Zhou territory. What you see now as Biansha cavalry is already his reformed version. He combined the horses of the Gouma Tribe with the falcons of the Youying Tribe, lowered the height of the Hanshe cavalry but increased their speed, and created a force capable of contesting Libei in the skies.”
“Lowered their height?” Tan Tai Hu glanced at Langtao Xuejin. “My lord, are Libei’s warhorses different from the Hanshe’s?”
“Of course,” Xiao Chiye said with a faint smile. “At first, to match the Hanshe Tribe’s speed, my father opened new pastures at Luoxia Pass, no longer using horses from Suotian Pass. The current Libei cavalry horses were bred then—strong, sturdy, from the wild herds beneath Hongyan Mountain, the same breed once used by the Hanshe Tribe. But Amuer quickly saw the flaw. With the same breed, Libei horses carried weight better. If Libei removed their armor, Hanshe’s speed advantage would vanish. So he replaced their horses with the smaller breed from the Gouma Tribe.”
Langtao Xuejin flicked its mane, circling Xiao Chiye as it grazed.
“We suffered against those smaller horses,” Chen Yang said, gesturing their height. “They caught Libei off guard.”
Tan Tai Hu didn’t understand—he had served in Dengzhou and the Imperial Guards, neither of which relied heavily on cavalry.
“They’re unbelievably fast,” Xiao Chiye said, his gaze cooling as he recalled the past. “Small, but powerful, with incredible endurance. The Gouma Tribe has fought along the borders for years. People who don’t understand think Lu Guangbai is unworthy of being one of the Four Great Generals—but put anyone else in his place and they’d see the truth. His infantry night raids are not facing ordinary cavalry, but the fastest cavalry in the world. Qidong has stationed double the troops in the south for years and still hasn’t weakened the Gouma Tribe—because they can’t catch them. That’s why Qu Du refuses to let Lu Guangbai advance.”
“When those horses appeared on Libei’s grasslands, they nearly crushed the newly formed Libei cavalry. The extra weight my father added turned them into prey for the curved blades of the Hanshe after the switch. To solve this, my father chose to add even more weight—turning the Libei cavalry into a moving iron wall.”
The strong winds swept across the grasslands as Xiao Chiye fell into thought.
“Six years ago, when the Biansha cavalry swept through Zhongbo, their change of horses played a crucial role,” he said. “If they had still used the old horses, they wouldn’t have had the endurance to push so far. These horses are fast, tough, and tireless—even crossing the Gobi doesn’t slow them. Paired with falcons as scouts, they were a disaster for the Zhongbo garrison.”
This was a problem Xiao Chiye had wrestled with ever since the fall of Zhongbo. He had fought alongside Xiao Jiming in Libei and knew the structure of the Hanshe cavalry well. More than once, he had wondered—if he were his father, facing such an enemy, what else could he do besides adding weight?
His brother’s answer had been to lighten armor and increase mobility—but Xiao Chiye was not satisfied.
He was a greedy wolf. He refused to abandon Libei’s strengths.
But this was not a problem that could be solved by imagination alone. Before entering Qu Du, Xiao Chiye had gone south with the army, seen the slaughterfields of Zhongbo, and met Lu Guangbai’s infantry.
“I can’t catch them—they’re too fast,” Lu Guangbai had said six years ago, crouched on the ground drawing diagrams. “But the borderlands are ideal. Beacon towers relay messages quickly. At night, we become the ‘sack.’ If we block the narrow pass, they lose freedom of movement. Once separated, even the fastest cavalry becomes headless flies.”
Zuo Qianqiu had once told him: “Offense creates opportunities; defense shapes strategy. Tianfei Pass stands not because I am strong, but because of geography. But we are forced to defend—once we leave the walls, we cannot withstand Biansha’s assault. I am a general hiding behind gates. The only force that can truly fight Biansha head-on is the Libei cavalry. Never let them become a shield—that would strip Da Zhou of its spear…”
But it was too difficult.
Xiao Chiye had not yet found a better answer than his father and brother. He could not replicate Lu Guangbai’s tactics either. Still, he held onto Zuo Qianqiu’s warning—Libei could not remain only a shield.
In his eyes, repelling Biansha cavalry was easy. Defeating Amuer—that was the real challenge.
Because under Amuer, the Biansha cavalry kept growing stronger. He commanded four tribes with absolute authority, free of constraints. Like a vulture born of the desert, he watched Da Zhou as prey, constantly seeking ways to invade. Every time Libei evolved, he evolved in response. In some ways, he understood Libei better than most of its own people.
Xiao Chiye’s gaze was blocked by Hongyan Mountain—just as he had long been overshadowed by his father and brother. Though he had never faced Amuer directly, he had already marked him as the enemy he must defeat.
That was a seasoned vulture. Xiao Chiye was still a wolf just returning home.
Meng suddenly swooped down, the rush of wind striking the guards’ faces. It landed on Xiao Chiye’s shoulder, its talons stained with blood. It had grown larger than anyone had imagined—only Xiao Chiye could bear its weight… and Shen Zechuan, whom it treated with unusual gentleness.
Xiao Chiye shook off his thoughts, signaling Chen Yang not to bring the feed. Looking at Meng, he said, “It’s already full.”
But today, Meng was acting strangely. Its sharp eyes were fixed on the sky, unmoving even as Xiao Chiye reached to stroke it.
Following its gaze, Xiao Chiye looked up.
The world was quiet. A powerful gust surged from the grass like a serpent. In the instant it opened its maw, Meng shot upward again, breaking through the wind and seizing a falcon trying to escape. Clutching it tightly, it soared higher—by the time it dropped the prey before Xiao Chiye, the lone falcon had already been torn into bloody fragments.
Xiao Chiye mounted his horse in one swift motion, pulling the reins tight as he scanned the horizon. At last, his gaze fixed on the east, his brow furrowing.
He had only just entered Libei territory—not even reached the Libei relay station. Why would a Biansha falcon appear here?
“Drumbeats!” Gu Jin lifted his head, turning with the wind. “My lord—it’s from the east!”
“That’s the Bianbo Camp—the patrol camp,” Chen Yang said, quickly mounting his horse. Just before spurring forward, he suddenly froze, then turned back in shock. “East of Bianbo Camp is Sha Third Camp. That’s where the prince’s frontline troops rotate—and where Libei keeps reserve warhorses for northern battles—”
Had the Biansha cavalry already reached that far?
Then what about Sha Third Camp?
What about the Prince of Libei?
Xiao Chiye clenched the reins and spurred his horse into a full gallop.