The northern frontier was lashed by howling winds and blinding snow.
Inside the newly established command tent of the Qiyan tribe, the heat was like a steamer in midsummer.
Three waist-high bronze braziers roared with premium silver-bone charcoal.
This charcoal, a tribute reserved for the winter fires of the most powerful nobles in the Central Plains, gave off not the slightest trace of smoke. Its surface glowed a deep crimson, occasionally crackling softly.
Wave after wave of heat rose into the tent, driving out every trace of the cold.
Amur sat upright in the high-backed chair at the head of the tent, its seat covered by the complete pelt of a snow leopard. In his hand was a short, finely forged steel blade, modified from a Great Qian saber by cutting it down to size.
A half-roasted leg of lamb lay across the table before him.
The lamb had been cooked to perfection, its skin gleaming with a caramelized sheen.
With leisurely ease, Amur drove the short blade into the leg and, following the grain of the bone, shaved away the meat bit by bit.
As the fat melted, it ran down the blood groove and dripped onto the wooden table.
Below him, twelve or thirteen chieftains from various minor and mid-sized tribes knelt in two rows.
All of them had come seeking shelter after the battle a few days earlier, having swiftly switched sides to attach themselves to the stronger power.
At that moment, sweat beaded on every forehead.
Some quietly shifted their numb legs, yet none dared make the slightest sound.
The tent was too hot—and too quiet.
The only sound was the scrape of the blade against the lamb bone.
These steppe warriors, accustomed to making their living amid wind and snow, were utterly unaccustomed to such stifling heat.
They stole glances at the young man seated in the chair and silently wondered what fate awaited them.
In just three short months, he had gathered his old followers, launched a surprise attack on Baiyin Pasture, and burned the Helian Left Division’s supply route to ashes.
Such methods, such ruthlessness—they dared not underestimate him in the slightest.
But now came the greatest trouble.
Half an hour earlier, an envoy from the Right Division of the Royal Court had arrived.
The first direct clash between the old established power and this rising force was about to begin, and all the minor chieftains were watching carefully.
The Qiyan tribe’s fire had burned fiercely, but whether it could withstand the towering tree of the Royal Court would be decided today.
Suddenly, the wind outside surged in volume.
A howling blizzard rushed through the entrance. Several chieftains sitting closest to the door shuddered as the freezing air struck them.
Two Qiyan death warriors guarding the entrance stepped forward. The Great Qian sabers at their waists slid halfway from their scabbards with a ringing clang, their cold edges pointed directly at the newcomer’s chest.
The newcomer was Tuoba Ying.
He was an envoy under the new Right Wise King of the Helian Royal Court, charged with maintaining contact with the various tribes.
He wore an extravagantly luxurious sable cloak, a gold ornament atop his head, and a necklace of wolf fangs around his chest.
His chin was held high, his eyes filled with disdain.
Having represented the Royal Court among the tribes of the steppe for years, he had long grown accustomed to the obsequious, fawning faces of minor chieftains.
A ramshackle force founded by a runaway slave was beneath his notice.
Facing the blades across his chest, Tuoba Ying did not even glance at them. He simply strode forward.
The two death warriors’ eyes gleamed with menace. The veins on the backs of their hands bulged as they turned toward the man seated at the head of the tent.
Amur continued stripping meat from the bone.
With the tip of his short blade, he speared a piece of lamb tendon coated in coarse salt and cumin and placed it in his mouth.
He did not spare the entrance so much as a glance.
The death warriors understood. They sheathed their blades and returned to their positions.
Tuoba Ying let out a cold snort and strode to the center of the tent.
He neither knelt nor placed a hand over his chest in salute. He simply stood there, brazenly surveying the chieftains kneeling on either side.
Several chieftains met his gaze and immediately lowered their heads.
That was the result of centuries of prestige wielded by the Royal Court. Even now, with the Court fractured and in decline, the fear rooted in their bones could not be erased overnight.
Seeing the fence-sitters’ reaction, Tuoba Ying was quite pleased.
He turned toward Amur in the high-backed chair, threw open his throat, and called out loudly:
“By decree of the Right Wise King!”
At the mention of the Right Wise King, several minor chieftains drew back at once.
Some even began silently calculating how they might escape if a conflict broke out, then flee to the Royal Court and prove their loyalty.
Seeing that Amur showed no reaction, Tuoba Ying knitted his brows and continued the proclamation in a heavier tone.
“Amur of the Qiyan tribe, hear this! The Royal Court recognizes that your tribe has wandered in exile for many years and longs to restore its former status. We will overlook your crime of raiding Baiyin Pasture.”
“You have three days to break camp and withdraw from the pasture! Eight-tenths of the weapons, horses, and fodder seized by your tribe in this campaign are to be handed over in full to the Right Wise King’s camp.”
“Once the transfer is complete, the Royal Court may show mercy and grant you the hereditary post of chiliarch, allowing you to pasture your people here!”
After finishing the proclamation, Tuoba Ying lifted his head high, waiting for Amur to come rolling down from his seat and thank him for the favor.
In his eyes, this was an immense act of grace.
What more could a runaway slave want than a hereditary position as commander of a thousand households?
As for surrendering eighty percent of the spoils, so what? It was merely the price of buying his life.
Yet the only response was the sound of a blade scraping against bone.
The air inside the tent seemed to freeze.
The chieftains were drenched in sweat—not merely because of the heat from the braziers, but because of the crushing pressure created by the silence of the man above them.
They had expected Amur either to explode on the spot or bow his head and submit. Instead, he simply continued eating.
Tuoba Ying stood there for a long while, until his legs began to ache.
The humiliation of being treated like empty air shot from the soles of his feet straight to the crown of his head. He had swaggered across the steppe for years—when had he ever suffered such indignity?
His eyes shifted. He glanced at the wolf-like Qiyan death warriors standing on either side of him, and his heart trembled slightly.
Then he thought of the Royal Court’s army behind him, and his courage returned.
Just a band of bandits. Did they really think themselves kings of the steppe?
“Are you deaf?” Tuoba Ying roared, pointing his right hand at Amur’s nose.
“You think burning the Left Division’s supply stores in a sneak attack is enough to establish yourself in the Yin Mountains?”
“You’ve broken the rules of the steppe! You’re nothing but a treacherous slave who betrayed his master!”
“Don’t think that absorbing a few worthless little tribes means you can challenge the Royal Court!”
“I’m telling you, the Right Wise King’s thirty thousand Golden-Tent cavalry have already crossed the Blackwater River! They’re assembled less than a hundred miles away!”
“As soon as the snowstorm clears, thirty thousand iron hooves will trample over you. You pack of rats hiding in the gutter won’t even leave behind scraps of meat!”
When his words fell, several of the chieftains below sucked in sharp breaths, their faces turning deathly pale.
Thirty thousand Golden-Tent cavalry!
They were the Royal Court’s elite!
The Qiyan tribe had, at most, ten thousand men capable of taking up arms. If they truly clashed with a regular army, it would be nothing short of a one-sided slaughter.
Several chieftains had already begun wiping away sweat, thinking that as soon as the gathering ended, they would hurry to pack up their men and flee.
At last, Amur swallowed the lamb in his mouth.
He picked up the coarse cloth beside him, used for wiping his hands, and casually cleaned the grease from his fingers.
Then he tossed the short blade onto the table.
Clang!
The sound cut through Tuoba Ying’s tirade.
Amur raised his eyes and looked down at Tuoba Ying from his elevated seat.
He said nothing. He merely turned his head and glanced at his trusted aide standing on the left, Arslan.
Arslan gave a savage grin and strode out of formation.
With one hand, he dragged a heavy burlap sack behind him. He walked up to Tuoba Ying, untied the rope, seized the bottom of the sack, and gave it a powerful shake.
Crash!
A dark, coldly gleaming object rolled out and landed heavily on the woolen carpet before Tuoba Ying.
Its weight was immense. When it struck the ground, it gave off a deep, heart-stopping thud.
A suit of heavy armor!
Everyone present took a closer look and immediately recognized that it was made from refined steel plates forged through countless hammerings.
Each plate had been polished perfectly smooth, while the edges had undergone special treatment—durable enough to withstand a blade, yet smooth enough not to damage clothing. The plates were fastened tightly with strips of softened cowhide soaked in a special medicinal solution.
This was the standard-issue lamellar armor exclusive to the elite guards of Great Qian’s Northern Pacification Army!
The moment Tuoba Ying recognized the armor, his pupils contracted sharply.
Having dealt with Great Qian’s frontier armies for years, he naturally knew what a formidable weapon it was.
Across the entire steppe, apart from the Great Khan’s personal guards, hardly any tribe could afford to equip its warriors with such armor.
Great Qian maintained extremely strict control over this kind of military equipment. Even when smuggled, at most a few horizontal sabers might make it through. It was utterly impossible for complete sets of such heavy armor to appear on the black market in organized quantities.
His mind began racing through every possibility.
How had this ended up in Amur’s hands?
Shouldn’t this have been in the hands of the Left Division? Had the people in Great Qian’s capital betrayed them?!
