Two days later, the snow ceased. Ao Yun found his horse, a small mare with a red coat and white hooves. By then, Xin Yi was able to leave the tent, though his movements were restricted. Fortunately, he knew to avoid suspicion and did not wander aimlessly outside.
Chiye had been well-tended by Wuyun Qiqige; his hind hooves had been treated with medicine, and the fodder provided was to his liking.
Without waiting for the Qiyan siblings to speak, Xin Yi took the initiative to bid them farewell.
"You’re leaving now?" Wuyun Qiqige was counting sheep in front of the tent. Hearing this, she merely nodded. "If you feel you can endure it, then you may go."
Ao Yun carried an armful of fodder from the thatched shed below to feed the sheep in the pen. He looked at Xin Yi and asked, "Are you returning to Beiyang?"
Xin Yi gave an affirmative response.
Ao Yun said, "Arslan has not yet departed. How do you plan to get back?"
Xin Yi smiled. "There is always a way."
"You Beiyang people," Ao Yun said, leaning against the mountain of fodder and circling his hand over his chest a few times. "Are you all so bold?"
"Staying any longer would only bring more trouble," Xin Yi said, pulling Chiye’s reins. "Besides, Arslan is still out there. I cannot stay here and hide."
"Very well." Ao Yun nodded, then looked up at the sky. "It won't snow tomorrow. I will escort you out this afternoon. I hope you remember what you promised—do not let the shadows of the Beiyang Army or the Southern Expeditionary Force fall upon this place."
"I will," Xin Yi said with a slight smile. However, his tone shifted in the next moment, becoming abruptly direct. "But I wish to discuss something else with you."
Ao Yun looked at his pale, gentle face and gradually straightened his posture.
The Qiyan tribe was not entirely removed from the center of Dayuan’s power; it had merely been deliberately suppressed and marginalized. This was evidenced by their territory being moved from lush, fertile pastures to this desolate fringe. Most ironically, they had once been the foremost in fleeing from the Beiyang Army; now, they were stationed right at Beiyang’s doorstep. It was as if the Habugeqin clan intended to use this method to force the Qiyan to forever remember the root of their misfortune and the shame of their lost power.
The Habugeqin clan had succeeded. They forced the next generation of Qiyan to live long-term in the cracks of humiliation, which transformed into a hatred for all of Dayuan—and, of course, resentment toward Beiyang.
Ao Yun had been born as the heir to a king.
Yet, when he was within reach of the throne, he was taught to bow his head and submit.
Because of this, his father had died under the treacherous blades of the Habugeqin. His mother, like a furious lioness, had dragged him and his sister through the rebellion, miraculously leading them out of Habugeqin territory to this place.
Of course, that lioness had not made it out herself.
Ao Yun was still a youth when he shouldered the heavy burden of the Qiyan line. Leading his sister, who only reached his waist at the time, he had stumbled out from the heart of Dayuan. In his daze, it felt as if he had been derailed from his original path; during that first year, he often felt a sense of unreality, as if he might suddenly wake up.
He could be said to utterly loathe the Xin clan of Beiyang. Yet, amidst his daily hatred, he uncontrollably harbored a deep, profound admiration for the legendary Xin Jing. He had even thought that if he had been born a few years earlier, he might have met that "Beiyang Blade" on the battlefield himself.
He knew Xin Jing was dead, and that his younger brother was a mute.
Whenever he thought of this, Ao Yun felt a flicker of relief and satisfaction. *We are both equally pathetic in our downfall, but you are even worse off than I—only a mute remains. A mute living under someone else's roof, at that.*
*So what if you once rode like thunder and split open the heart of Dayuan? What does it matter now?*
But he had never imagined.
One day, the mute would speak. One day, the Xin clan of Beiyang and the Qiyan would join forces.
Likely, no one had ever imagined it.
"You say the Beiyang Army wants to join forces with the Qiyan?" Ao Yun stood by the haystack. He showed a flash of caught-off-guard surprise, which was instantly replaced by irony and a cold sneer. "If the Beiyang Army and the Qiyan join forces, who will be there to hold down Xin Jing’s coffin lid?"
"The Qiyan have been here for a long time." Xin Yi patted Chiye’s head. "You are familiar with the terrain and environment here—more so than Arslan. Even if there is a disparity in numbers, with the Beiyang Army pinning them down from the front, you can strike Arslan’s army from the rear. Looking at the troop numbers, he has taken almost all of Dayuan’s forces with him. The Habugeqin territory is now as thin as paper. If Arslan is defeated, the Qiyan can return to their ancestral lands."
"What makes you think we can just go back if Arslan loses? Is the Habugeqin clan a dog?" Ao Yun spat. "And then there's the Zhadalan tribe."
"That is your concern." Here, Xin Yi revealed the offensive edge beneath his gentle exterior—a trait he had learned from Zuo Kaizhi during his time in the capital.
Seize the vital point, and press forward step by step.
"Your horses are all warhorses," Xin Yi continued. "Including Qiqige’s. If you had no heart for returning, why bother raising horses and sharpening blades, training day after day? That scimitar of yours, which is even sharper than Arslan’s, was not forged merely to cut wild grass. The opportunity has arrived, Ao Yun."
"That is also your opportunity." Ao Yun turned back to continue tidying the fodder. "Arslan’s defeat would certainly benefit the Qiyan, but that benefit is negligible to Dayuan as a whole. As for you..." He turned his head, speaking bluntly, "Once the threat of the Lion King is gone, your retribution and ambition will pour down upon Dayuan."
"Perhaps that was true in the past." Xin Yi’s expression remained unchanged. "But the current Great Lan cannot do that. We have a far more dangerous enemy."
"Then that is even better for us." Ao Yun frowned deeply. "Without the Great Lan, Dayuan’s territory could span from the grasslands to the Long River, possessing fertile soil and lush pastures. We would never have to worry about the coming of winter again, nor would we have to trade with you for grain."
"Is that truly so?" Xin Yi did not retreat an inch. "Without the Great Lan, who will fill the granaries of the south? While you gallop across the plains, who will teach you agriculture? Even if Arslan truly reaches the banks of the Long River, how long can he hold it? The Lion King is already an old lion. If he dies on the march, the wrath of the Great Lan will descend like a tidal wave. When that time comes, the Qiyan will be the first to suffer. Because you are closest to Beiyang."
Ao Yun scoffed but stopped his movements. The dark-skinned young man was quite imposing when he stood straight; his sturdy chest and broad shoulders showed he already possessed sufficient strength.
He did not speak, but Wuyun Qiqige shook the debris from her skirt and said, "What do you want the Qiyan to do? Raid the Habugeqin territory?" She put her hands behind her back and leaned forward to look at Xin Yi, her eyes clear yet stern. "Don't joke. We cannot do that."
"Qiqige."
Wuyun Qiqige ignored her brother and instead paced around Xin Yi. She walked playfully, stepping perfectly into the footprints she had left in the previous circle.
"The Qiyan have horses, but no grain. We are in the place closest to the trade route, yet we enjoy none of its mutual benefits. Even today, there are people in the Qiyan tribe suffering from cold and hunger. The Qiyan have blades, but no army. Our women and children are all soldiers, yet they cannot hold their knives because of the cold. The Qiyan have the heart to go home, but the way back is blocked by Canaan Mountain. We want to fight Arslan, but we find that on our own, we cannot pass the Iron Wings." She stopped, standing directly in front of Xin Yi. The girl toyed with her waist-length braid and smiled broadly. "If you want our help, we want grain, charcoal, gold, manpower, and your written oath."
"My oath?"
"You must swear before the Beiyang Army and the Qiyan that after Arslan is dealt with, you will help us pass Canaan Mountain and guarantee that the Emperor of Great Lan will not intervene or coerce us." Then Wuyun Qiqige tilted her head. "Your oath will carry weight. You have that power, don't you, little Prince of Yan?"
Xin Yi’s expression darkened slightly, his fingertips brushing against Tiandao. "I do not have the gold you ask for," he said. "But I can give you something else."
Wuyun Qiqige gestured for him to continue.
Xin Yi said, "A trade route."
Ao Yun couldn't help but interject, "We don't need it. Your Crown Prince’s trade route only opens its doors for the Habugeqin and their dogs. Besides, the exchange of hides and horses for gold, silver, and grain has always been suppressed to a pittance. The money from one horse can't even feed a stray dog."
"I am not referring to the one at Shangjin." Xin Yi looked up at the grey-white sky. "I mean a brand new one—one that allows both Beiyang and this place to get what they need, without having to rely on constant warfare."
Ao Yun fell silent. Wuyun Qiqige’s eyes lit up, but she did not abandon her cautious attitude. She asked, "This matter goes beyond Beiyang. Can you achieve it?"
"Not right now." Xin Yi’s eyes suddenly turned sharp. "But as long as Arslan is driven back to Canaan Mountain, I can."
"If you break your word," Ao Yun raised his hand and struck his chest, "I will kill you, no matter where you are."
Xin Yi raised his arm and struck his chest in the same manner. "I swear it."
Because of the deployment of the terrain in the rear, Xin Yi stayed one more night. The next day, Ao Yun led him away, both of them on horseback.
"You are nothing like your eldest brother." Ao Yun wore his scimitar today, hanging at his hip.
Xin Yi paused for a moment, then laughed. "Perhaps I am a bit more like my second brother."
"I heard your second brother is a scholar." Ao Yun glanced at him. "You don't look like a scholar either." Before Xin Yi could answer, he continued, "I know all of your eldest brother's military achievements, though I never met him. There is a giant boulder by the banks of Wanze. It was originally just an ordinary rock, but after Xin Jing, it was called 'Weijing'—the Dreaded Realm. It is a place to be feared, and it is the fearsome Xin Jing."
"Fearsome?" Xin Yi could not recall a time when his eldest brother was fearsome. He only remembered his brother’s bravery and warmth—a protection that had always loomed over him and his third brother, a man who would surpass even their father in their admiration.
He wondered if his second brother felt the same.
"I hated him very much," Ao Yun said candidly, then added somewhat desolately, "But I also admired him greatly. Why would your Emperor do such a thing?"
Xin Yi did not answer immediately. Chiye galloped across the snow, the wind making his robes flutter, revealing his left hand beneath the sleeve—the hand that gripped the reins but was missing its pinky finger. He said, "Perhaps... it was also because he was fearsome."
The fearsome Xin Jing.
Because he seemed poised to surpass the Prince of Yan, shining brilliantly and arrogantly from Beiyang, even outshining all his peers in the capital. To be so impossibly brilliant was to be fearsome. He was also impossibly young, striking terror into an aging, twilight heart.
After all, could the Emperor still ride a horse to Wanze?
He could no longer even climb into a saddle.
Yet his son, who held heavy military power, was in his prime, entrenched in his own territory with long-standing prestige. And that son had even more sharp-edged sons—one skilled in civil affairs, one in martial—spanning from the imperial court to the army, from the capital to Beiyang. Their names were known to all.
The Beiyang Blade, the Beiyang Phoenix, the Three Young Masters of Yan.
Every word of praise felt like a mockery of the Emperor's own old age and cowardice. They were clearly his own kin, yet their reputations were more venerable than his own. They were not "good" descendants; they were even worse than his Crown Prince.
Fearsome indeed.
Chiye ran fiercely. Perhaps because he had been pampered by Wuyun Qiqige for too long, he ran as if he wanted to break through the horizon, heedless of the wind.
Xin Yi’s unobstructed view spanned the entire snowy wilderness, but something in the snow caught his eye. He suddenly yanked Chiye to a halt.
"Ao Yun," Xin Yi turned his horse. "Arslan!"
Ao Yun stood up on his galloping horse, looking into the distance. The white expanse hid all other colors, but he trusted Xin Yi and immediately turned his horse as well.
Their group numbered three hundred; they were not a small target in the snowy fields.
Men and horses hidden beneath the snow suddenly rose and gave chase.
"They were lying in wait here," Ao Yun said, riding alongside Xin Yi. "The morning patrols don't reach this far."
Xin Yi suddenly reined in his horse again. Ao Yun cried out in surprise, "What are you doing?"
"Surround me," Xin Yi said, drawing Tiandao. "Capture me."
The pursuers were closing in. Ao Yun immediately turned his horse, drew his scimitar, and shouted, "Seize him!"
Xin Yi’s Tiandao instantly slashed toward him. Ao Yun parried the blade, laughing behind the steel. "Hey now, even my sister could take a blow with this little strength. Are you truly a man?"
Xin Yi said nothing, his blade striking again and again. The clash of their weapons rang out continuously. Ao Yun had previously said that if it were him, he wouldn't have lost a finger; he was qualified to say so. In the heat of the exchange, Xin Yi was forced to use both hands to hold his blade, as Ao Yun’s arm strength was even more terrifying than Arslan’s.
The pursuers had arrived. Ao Yun’s scimitar came dangerously close, even grazing Xin Yi’s neck. With a kick from his long leg behind the blade, Xin Yi was sent rolling off his horse.
Ao Yun’s horse circled slowly around Xin Yi. He said to the newcomers, "Alatan, what are you doing on my land?"
"Ao Yun." The middle-aged man leading them merely nodded to Ao Yun, his predatory gaze falling on Xin Yi’s back in the snow. "Pardon the intrusion, but this is the Lion King’s prey."
"This is a wild thing I found while riding." Ao Yun’s gaze darkened, his scimitar pointing through the air directly at Alatan’s eyes. "Who permitted you, a slave of the Zhadalan, to look directly into the eyes of the Qiyan chief?"
Alatan narrowed his eyes unpleasantly. "I am a subordinate of the Lion King, not a slave."
Ao Yun bared his white teeth. "Did you expect me to call you brother? You sheep-pen mongrel."
As he spoke, the Qiyan horses slowly surrounded the pursuers. Alatan sensed the hostility, but he did not raise his guard, for this former prince had always been arrogant toward the Zhadalan tribe. He even took a few steps forward, tentatively approaching Xin Yi.
"Ao Yun," he said, crouching down beside Xin Yi. "Do not anger the Lion King."
Ao Yun scoffed but tightened his grip on his blade as if enduring something, letting it hang low. Alatan showed a satisfied expression. However, before he could look down at the "prey," his neck was suddenly slammed down. His entire body lost balance and pitched forward as the blade of Tiandao instantly sank deep into his chest.
Ao Yun sneered from atop his horse.
"You should have slit his throat and let him taste the pleasure of being unable to speak."
"What a pity." Xin Yi pushed the corpse away and stood up, offering a look of innocent apology. "I didn't have the time."
The remaining few hundred men had not yet recovered their senses when the Qiyan blades from the outer circle slit their throats from behind—neat and efficient, just as Ao Yun had said.
***
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