Just as the second watch of the third night cycle had sounded, the main hall of the Zhenbei Pass General’s mansion blazed with oil-pine torches that would burn until dawn.
On either side of the hall stood two rows of armored soldiers, their murderous aura stifling the summer heat of the night. The entire military command of the Great Qian northern frontier had gathered here tonight.
Deputy General Zhao Heng, the Eastern Route Adjutant, the town garrison commander, the Imperial Supervisor, the Grain Transport Commissioner, along with several pale-faced military advisors, all sat upright in their seats. At the lower left of the hall stood the newly promoted Mobile Corps Commander Xu Zhan.
And on the guest seat of honor to the right, amid all this steel-clad assembly, sat the plain-robed Imperial Envoy, Xu Qinghuan.
Marshal Tie Lanshan strode swiftly from the rear hall, waving a calloused hand. Three frontier reports sealed with hot wax, marked for eight-hundred-mile urgent dispatch, were tossed onto the massive sand table at the center of the hall.
“The Helian Royal Court has broken camp.”
“Great Khan Ashina Hongfang leads the campaign himself, with the Right Prince Viceroy at his side. Seventy thousand iron cavalry have already departed Tongwan City. Roughly ten thousand raiding horsemen are scouting thirty li outside our Zhenbei Pass.”
The entire hall gasped. Even the supervisor, who usually prided himself on remaining calm as mountains crumbled, couldn’t help but twitch at the corner of his mouth.
This year, Great Qian had ample grain from the canals, peace in the capital, and a hundred thousand elite soldiers of the Northern Army ready and waiting. If the enemy had come during the autumn, when horses were fat and strong, it would have been understandable. But now, in the dog days of July.
The horses of the grasslands hadn’t yet gained their autumn weight; their stamina was at its weakest. On what basis did the Helian people dare to launch a full-scale invasion southward in such an unfavorable season?
A military taboo. Anything abnormal reeked of deception.
Tie Lanshan swept his tiger-like gaze across the room, finally settling on the seated Xu Qinghuan.
Xu Qinghuan didn’t bother to look at the military intelligence on the sand table. Instead, she gazed silently into the impenetrable night outside the hall.
“One hundred years ago, at the Battle of White Wolf River, a hundred thousand Great Qian sons stained the frozen river with blood.”
Her red lips parted, her tone carrying neither sorrow nor joy, but a heavy chill that seeped into the marrow.
“That battle for national fate bled both sides dry, with no clear victor. That debt has hung upon the Great Wall for an entire century.”
The breathing in the hall collectively paused.
“Tonight, these seventy thousand iron horsemen hammering at our gates may be the final reckoning for a century of blood feuds—or just another entry in the annals of history.”
“A century ago, the Helian and Great Qian were destined for this war. There is no avoiding it, no escaping it.”
“This is the Mandate of Heaven.”
The assembled generals stirred in awe. A hundred years of martial spirit, ignited by those few softly spoken words.
Xu Qinghuan withdrew her gaze, her pale fingers lightly tapping the tea table beside her chair, grounding that ethereal Mandate of Heaven into the here and now.
“That’s how fate writes it,” she said, “but the ones carrying out the work below have been driven to the edge of the abyss.”
She fixed her eyes on the red wolf banner representing the Helian army on the sand table, a cold smile curling her lips.
“That Han strategist who defected to the desert, Chen Changfeng, was genuinely terrified by our fire-thunder grenades.”
“He feared that Great Qian’s firearms would become a real threat, so he desperately goaded the Helian Khan, dragging a half-starved wolf with unformed teeth to attack us.”
“Seems ferocious, but in truth, he marches with a sick army—all bluster, no substance.”
Hearing this, the Imperial Supervisor’s furrowed brow eased slightly. He cupped his hands and offered advice to Tie Lanshan.
“Since the barbarians’ horses are weak and their provisions scarce, we need only shut the gates and wait behind these mighty defenses of Zhenbei Pass, conserving our strength.”
“Within half a month, when their grain runs out, they’ll retreat without a fight.”
“Nonsense!”
Tie Lanshan slammed his palm onto the commander’s table. The veteran general rose abruptly from his grand chair and pointed at the vital chokepoints on the sand table.
“You scholar-officials, clutching your Confucian classics—you have no understanding of the life-and-death logic of the prairie barbarians!”
“What drives a steppe regime to war?”
“It’s the Khan’s promise of plunder, and the tribal chieftains’ hope of breaking through the passes to share the spoils inside the cities!”
“The Right Prince Viceroy supplies grain and troops because he covets the Central Plains’ silk, ironware, and slaves.”
“If the meat doesn’t get distributed, this seventy-thousand-strong alliance is nothing but loose sand, crumbling at a touch.”
At these words, the civilian officials exchanged confused glances.
Tie Lanshan’s gaze cut like a knife across every face in the room.
“And what about Great Qian?”
“We rely on the laws of the imperial court, on grain and pay raised by the provinces, on the systems and allocations binding every link!”
“Now, our fodder within the passes is ready. Thirty thousand shi of grain from the Ministry of Revenue are already en route. Repeating crossbows and fire-thunder grenades are stocked and prepared.”
“Our army’s morale hasn’t scattered. Our rules haven’t collapsed. This is the perfect moment to draw our blades!”
“Holding the line?”
“Holding the line means handing the sword’s hilt to the barbarians!”
“Dragging things out until the clear autumn skies and the horses gain their fat—that would play straight into the Helian Royal Court’s hands!”
The old marshal’s voice rose sharply, shaking dust from the rafters.
“Strike the snake at its head. Kill the wolf by breaking its spine!”
“We must march out and take the initiative, target their supply lines, burn their pastures, and cut off their dreams of looting!”
“I will starve these hundred thousand greedy wolves to death, grind them down in the desert sands!”
The entire hall fell silent, save for the crackling torches in the wind.
Tie Lanshan slammed his iron fists onto the sand table.
“Chen Changfeng is defying Heaven’s timing, forcing the Helian army to strike south prematurely.”
“This is the most vulnerable the Helian Royal Court has been in a century—all show, no substance!”
“The window Heaven has ripped open lasts at most one month!”
“If we miss this month, our brothers at Zhenbei Pass will have to pay with their lives to block their fat-fed iron-clad cavalry!”
A sharp clatter of metal followed shortly after.
Xu Zhan strode forward and made no grand, impassioned speech.
“Marshal, give me three hundred riders.”
“I’ll burn their grain carts and the heads of their escort down to ash.”
A promise like a hammer smashing through flesh and bone. It lit the powder keg of this century-old fortress.
Below the hall, the adjutants and garrison commanders could no longer hold back. They stepped forward one after another, falling to one knee.
“Your subordinate requests the right to fight!”
Even the Imperial Supervisor, who had been about to argue, could only close his mouth in defeat before the bloody cost and flawless military logic laid before him.
The hall seethed with boiling bloodlust, killing intent nearly solidifying into form.
Tie Lanshan did not give orders immediately. Instead, he turned to the Imperial Envoy, who sat as calmly as a mountain.
“Magistrate Xu, regarding the imperial court, do you have any objections?”
Xu Qinghuan lowered her head and took a sip of the already cold tea.
She did not reach for the command the old marshal offered her. She could not take it.
“Military affairs are for you to decide, Marshal.”
“You are the one who must play this grand stratagem—the backbone of the Northern Army.”
“As for me personally, I quite approve of your strategy.”
She said it lightly, placing the hilt capable of commanding a hundred thousand soldiers back into the seasoned general’s hands.
With her clear word of support, Tie Lanshan had no more hesitation. He straightened his back and rose to his full height.
“Zhao Heng!”
“Your subordinate is here!”
“Draft three urgent reports tonight.”
“One, an eight-hundred-mile dispatch to His Majesty, laying out the stakes clearly.”
“The other two, immediately send to the Western Route and Eastern Route commanders, ordering them to mobilize all frontier forces along their lines and pin down the Helian Royal Court’s flanks.”
“This time, I will flay that old wolf and break his bones!”
The generals in the hall answered in unison.
The council adjourned, Tie Lanshan turned his gaze to Xu Qinghuan, who was about to rise.
“Magistrate Xu, do you have any further instructions?”
Xu Qinghuan paused mid-motion, her eyes fixed on the northern desert that was destined to be drenched in blood.
“Amur, it is time to wake.”
She uttered these five words softly, as though reciting a dark, profound incantation.
That discarded mad blade—the one that had swallowed the “Bowel-Shredding Powder” and been forcibly driven by her into the very heart of the Khagan’s court—had finally reached the hour to be drawn and taste blood.
The great cauldron that had feasted on human flesh for a century was about to be overturned from beneath the hearth.
She glanced back at the Marshal and left a meaningful remark.
“This battle, you, Marshal, will fight from the front.”
“The final blow from behind—I will deliver it myself.”
Tie Lanshan was taken aback at first, then recalled the secret report on the orphan of the Qiyan tribe, remembering the pawn that Xu Qinghuan had bound with the Bowel-Shredding Powder and buried deep in the rear of the Khagan’s court.
He took a deep breath and nodded solemnly.
“Good.” That single word was all Tie Lanshan said.
Outside the hall, the northern wind howled past the pass, sweeping up gravel and sand, its sound like weeping whispers.
A century of grievances and enmity—tonight, the first tithe shall be collected.
