The frontier of the northern borderlands faced the vast desert. Constant wind and sand erosion meant that even standing on the city walls, one could rarely glimpse the sky clearly. Inside the region, buildings were low and sparse. Looking outward from here, everything in sight was a monotonous yellow-brown. Vegetation along the road was scarce; only after several li of travel would one occasionally see a few crooked, sickly trees. The wild grasses of the Gobi were uneven and patchy, like the thinning hair of an aging nobleman.
Xiao Chiye’s helmet was already coated in dust. He removed it, standing with his back to the setting sun, gazing at the border city walls wavering in the sand waves ahead.
“This place is truly poor,” Hai Rigu said as he jumped off his horse. The ornaments at his neck clattered. He opened his water pouch, poured water over his face, and with his eyes closed said, “The scorpions don’t even come here.”
There were no farmlands in the border region; the soil was too barren, and in the heat of June it already showed signs of cracking apart. Xiao Chiye shifted his military boots, looking at the insects crawling through the fissures in the yellow earth.
“The eastern grasslands of Suotian Pass that Amur worked so hard to seize were eroded by drifting sand. By the first year of the Xian-de era, they had turned into wasteland. The Qingshu tribe abandoned them and retreated east of the borderlands,” Hai Rigu said, shaking his damp hair. “The Lord asked me to negotiate with the Youxiong tribe, but he gave me no bait. This kind of deal requires intelligence—I don’t have it.”
Hai Rigu was not obedient. He knew how to negotiate, just like when he dealt with Yan Heru. This black scorpion understood rules well. Shen Zechuan had given him no clear incentives, meaning that no matter how good the deal he struck, the reward would be decided entirely by Shen Zechuan. But Hai Rigu wanted room to bargain with Xiao Chiye.
Xiao Chiye did not look at him. “You’d better have it.”
Hai Rigu scratched the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed. The water he had poured on himself quickly evaporated, leaving his bronze skin exposed to the stifling heat. He tightened his water pouch and tried again.
“I can provide grain for the Youxiong tribe through winter. With enough food, they can stay in their territory.”
“If that’s all you can do,” Xiao Chiye said, eyes shifting toward the city gate as shadows moved, “then anyone can negotiate this deal.”
Hai Rigu hit a wall repeatedly and rubbed his nose. “Fine. Then I’ll give them a new choice.”
The city gate was opening.
Qi Zhuyin stood with her saber at her waist, arms crossed in front of the raised gate. She had gone out on a night reconnaissance and only returned at midday, sleeping barely two hours. She looked exhausted and was not particularly pleased to see Xiao Chiye.
“Well,” she said, “you’re here.”
Xiao Chiye tossed his waist token to her. Qi Zhuyin caught it without even looking and casually handed it to Qi Wei. Then she turned and led Xiao Chiye into the city.
“In the sixth year of Xian-de, when I came here, Lu Guangbai said he wanted to plant trees,” Xiao Chiye said as his heavy armor burned in the evening glow. “Why is the borderland still this barren?”
“He wished too well,” Qi Zhuyin said, tilting her sore neck slightly and watching the lights gradually appear in the streets. “In the sixth year of Xian-de, the sandstorms were too strong. He gathered funds to buy saplings from Hezhou and planted them at the border in spring. They didn’t survive past the end of the month—they were trampled by cavalry.”
“At that time, was Hasen stationed in the Qingshu territory?” Xiao Chiye asked as he climbed the steps, removing his helmet and sitting beside her to watch the iron cavalry enter the city.
“Yes,” Qi Zhuyin said. She did not sit, only leaned against the gate, her chin bathed in the remaining glow. “Your letter sent via Chaohui arrived long ago. There will be a hard battle in June, but only if Hasen really turns south to attack Duanzhou. If he does not come, the Second Sand Battalion will bear the consequences of your troop movement.”
“Amur has joined forces with the Huluk tribe and is still trying to persuade the Youxiong tribe to submit. Hasen has almost no grain left,” Xiao Chiye said. “He has to come to Duanzhou for supplies.”
“You brought a scorpion,” Qi Zhuyin said. “What does Shen Zechuan intend to do?”
“If Hasen attacks Duanzhou, reinforcements will be stopped across the Chashi River at Gedale. Only the Youxiong tribe can block me from the southeast,” Xiao Chiye stretched his legs. “Lanzhou wants to negotiate with them.”
“Then he’d better offer enough sincerity,” Qi Zhuyin said as she straightened and pointed toward the distant snowy peaks in the south. “The Youxiong tribe once held grasslands in the south. Shen Zechuan’s grain stores cannot feed them. You cannot imagine their greed.”
From Qi Zhuyin’s lineage down to Qi Shiyu, Qidong had long tried to negotiate with the Youxiong tribe, hoping they would submit like the Huicai tribe in the north. But it was too difficult. The Youxiong tribe was strong—they were nothing like the impoverished Huicai tribe. They trusted their curved blades and bear horses to seize better land, and they would not even acknowledge Amur’s authority.
“Lanzhou is willing to give them Henshe territory,” Xiao Chiye said. “Once they leave Suotian Pass, they’ve been wandering ever since—that’s exactly what they want.”
Qi Zhuyin squatted down slightly. “Yes, you people are clever. The Youxiong tribe does want land. But are you some desert overlord? Shen Zechuan’s tricks from Zhongbo don’t work here. Bears don’t eat painted cakes. I’ve dealt with them—they’re far more cunning than the Henshe tribe.”
Under the eaves, Lie Xiong was catching a lizard. He knelt on the polished wooden floor, holding the lizard by its tail, saying to Ding Tao, “Roast it. It’s good.”
Ding Tao sat cross-legged, writing and drawing. He glanced at the lizard and grimaced. “Ugh.”
Lie Xiong shook it lightly. “This is from Gedale.”
Ding Tao tilted his head. “Isn’t it just like the lizards in Cizhou?”
Lie Xiong sniffed the air. “Not the same. This one has a smell—the smell of the desert. Yellow sand!”
“It escaped from Gedale,” Ding Tao said thoughtfully. “Seems like things aren’t going well there. It’s better to stay here.”
Lie Xiong said, “No. It likes staying…”
Fei Sheng called from afar. Ding Tao immediately jumped up and ran off before he finished speaking, scattering the sweets in his lap all over the ground.
“…staying in its old place,” Lie Xiong murmured, picking up the sweets and stuffing them into his mouth. “I like staying in my old place too.”
The current leader of the Youxiong tribe was Dalan Tai. He was not a relative of Suhebasu, but one of his personal guards. After Suhebasu died in Gedale, Dalan Tai led the remaining elite of the Youxiong tribe to retreat behind Qingshu territory, where they remained for many years.
Dalan Tai sat by his tent, pulling a potato from the fire and eating it with dried horse meat. He had a thick beard and looked almost comical when chewing. Unlike Suhebasu’s imposing presence, he was small—so small he hardly looked like a man of the Youxiong tribe.
“A wise man from the desert,” Dalan Tai said after swallowing a hot potato, looking at Bayin by the fire. “You ride to my tent carrying the counsel of the eagle. But the eagle’s demands are excessive.”
“The bear chief beneath the snowy peaks,” Bayin replied respectfully, “I bring the most sincere greetings of the eagle. Everything is negotiable. The eagle treats you as friends.”
Hasen, the “eagle” of the Henshe tribe, had sent Bayin ahead of Xiao Chiye’s expedition.
Dalan Tai handed half a potato to Bayin. “The young wolf cub from Beili is strong. I heard he killed Hu Helu and Achi and defeated the proud scorpion of the eagle at the Chashi sinkhole. I am old. I can no longer ride like I used to. I fear I cannot fight such a young man.”
Bayin accepted the potato, hesitated briefly, then said, “You are the bear of Suhebasu—the one who led the Youxiong tribe to stand firm in the southeast of the desert. Even the Henshe tribe fears you. The eagle believes in your strength. The young wolf is far less frightening than the Wolf King.”
“If that is true,” Dalan Tai wiped his beard, “then why has the eagle that beheaded the Wolf King not yet slain this wolf?”
He was not lying. He was indeed old. His hair was not yet white, but his hands could no longer hold a blade for long. Though he lacked Suhebasu’s sharpness, he had led the Youxiong tribe through blizzards, preserving their dignity as a strong tribe in the desert. He was not like Hu Helu—he was more like a strategist than Bayin himself.
“That is why I was sent,” Bayin said. “Our cavalry is strong, but we lack grain. The Wolf King is dead. Noble and wise Dalan Tai, you have seen the future of the desert. A new land awaits us—where no tribe will go hungry. This is the wish of Great Rusuhebasu, and also of the eagle. We need your help.”
The smell of potatoes filled the air. Dalan Tai poked at them with a stick but remained unmoved.
“Years ago, Gergenhas of the Huluk tribe killed my lord dishonorably in Gedale and offered the head of the ‘Great Bear’ to Amur—and Amur accepted,” he said, picking up another potato but not eating it. “Amur is a greedy vulture. He is not our brother.”
A warrior of the Youxiong tribe stood, signaling dismissal.
Bayin did not move. “Respected Dalan Tai, those were mistakes of the past. Now we share a common enemy—”
“Who awakened that enemy?” Dalan Tai’s narrow eyes fixed on him. “Amur seeks to conquer every place the sun touches. And you dare call that murder a mistake?”
Bayin lowered his head. “I apologize for my words…”
The surrounding warriors looked at him like hunters watching prey.
“Hasen wants our help,” Dalan Tai said calmly, peeling a potato, “then he should beg for forgiveness first. If he kills his own wife and makes the Huluk tribe pay, we will consider sending troops to the borderlands.”
“Stop this,” Bayin raised his voice as he was dragged back. “Gergenhas is already dead! Doran is an innocent woman!”
Dalan Tai looked at him, then slowly ate the potato alone.