Chapter 385: Crush Them!

The Third Prince stared blankly.

He had never imagined that all the strategies and responses he had worked out inside the tent after being captured would end with a result like this.

From Count Zheng’s own mouth, he had just learned two astonishing facts.

First, the Savage King apparently had not been escorted to Yanjing as the rumors claimed. There was a very real possibility he was in Count Zheng’s hands.

Second, the Savage King seemed to have submitted to Count Zheng and was now advising him.

This entire Snow Sea Pass raid against the Naiman Tribe might even have been planned personally by the Savage King.

A cold chill swept up the Third Prince’s spine.

It did not come from the knowledge that he was about to die.

It came from despair.

If the Savage King had truly bowed beneath Count Pingye’s feet what future did the snowfields have left?

What hope was there even to dream of?

Nobody understood the terror of the Savage King better than the Third Prince.

In his eyes, even though the Savage King had ultimately failed, that failure had never truly belonged to the man himself.

The Savage King had been fighting against a terrifying State of Yan while standing atop a snowfield that remained nothing more than loose sand.

If the snowfield tribes had abandoned their prejudices, united, and given the Savage King more support, the situation could never have collapsed this far.

If Snow Sea Pass had never been lost or if it had been retaken in time the snowfields would still hold the initiative against Jin territory.

They would not be reduced to the present situation, where the Yan could decide to fight and immediately send troops north.

“Heh... hehehe...

“Hahahahahaha...”

The Third Prince suddenly laughed.

Then he reached out and took the dagger Xue San had thrown in front of him.

The humility vanished from his face.

He did not kowtow.

He did not beg.

Instead he looked strangely open and unburdened.

Even Zheng Fan found the transformation surprising.

The man before him seemed to have changed into someone else in an instant.

His face had not changed.

But his bearing had.

Yes.

His entire bearing was completely different.

Everyone needed masks.

Some people wore one for an entire lifetime.

Others required many.

The Third Prince had finally removed his.

And now, this savage “scholar” whom the Savage King had once praised as possessing the talent of a Chancellor truly did display a trace of that grandeur.

“Count, your Great Yan exhausts itself in endless warfare.

“In the future, your own end may not be much better than mine.”

Zheng Fan yawned.

Then nodded.

He did not argue.

If anything, he acknowledged the point rather honestly.

At a moment like this, debating the man about such things would be unbearably dull.

Besides whatever happened to Great Yan in the future, what did that truly have to do with Count Pingye?

On the road ahead of Count Zheng, perhaps Cao Cao was waiting.

Perhaps Sima Yi.

But it would definitely not be Grandpa Yue Fei.

The Third Prince was clearly not throwing out some bitter deathbed curse because he could not accept losing.

He was not that kind of man.

Deep inside him still lived a trace of lofty pride that almost seemed out of place in a savage.

He continued:

“But given time, the snowfields will become Count Zheng’s pasture.

“The people of my Holy Race will become slaves beneath Count Zheng’s feet.

“For hundreds of muddled years, the fate of my Holy Race has never truly rested in our own hands.

“A life like this—

I can do without.

“A snowfield like this—

I need not see.

“A life such as mine—

I need not keep!”

He shouted the final three lines.

The moment the last word left his mouth, he gripped the dagger and drove it violently toward his heart.

*Pfft!*

The blade did not go very deep.

Pain exploded across the Third Prince’s face, twisting his features.

Only last night, he had said that scholars were useless in a hundred pursuits.

Now he was tasting the bitterness of being a scholar firsthand.

He knew no martial arts.

His body had been weak since childhood.

He had never tempered sinew or bone.

If he had not been the son of the Naiman King, his fate might have resembled that of many weak newborns on the snowfields deliberately abandoned outside by their parents and carried away by wolves.

But he had never imagined that at this moment even suicide would prove beyond his strength.

Blood flowed.

It ran down the dagger and onto his hand.

He could clearly feel the wet heat spreading across his palm.

Yet even without martial training, he understood one thing.

Death was still far away.

Wanting to die and finding yourself unable to die cleanly beneath the eyes of everyone around you was torture.

Zheng Fan watched the Third Prince’s face turn bright red.

Not because of the wound.

Because of shame.

The Third Prince seemed to want to pull the dagger free and stab himself again.

Or perhaps grip the hilt and twist it deeper inside his body.

But the instant he moved the dagger the wound spasmed.

His entire body began shaking from pain.

“Hiss...”

He sucked in a sharp breath.

The convulsion left even the hand around the dagger weak.

Suicide especially with cold steel was not actually easy.

Zheng Fan could not help remembering television dramas from his previous life, where some random female character could casually lift a blade, slash her own throat with perfect decisiveness, spray blood everywhere, and die neatly on cue.

Utterly unrealistic.

Then Count Zheng realized that letting his thoughts wander at a moment like this was somewhat inappropriate.

It felt disrespectful to the prince dying in front of him.

The Third Prince looked toward Xue San with pleading eyes.

Not begging for mercy.

Begging for help.

“Please...

“General... help me...”

Xue San looked at him and smiled.

“There’s poison on the dagger.

“It’s slow-acting.

“Wait a little longer.

“You’ll die.”

Xue San loved poisons.

Coating his daggers and concealed weapons with toxins was part of his daily routine.

Truthfully, ordinary fast-acting poisons were often of limited use against experts.

A true expert could control qi and blood, contract the muscles around a wound, and seal acupoints.

A fast poison announced itself immediately.

That warning actually made it easier to suppress the damage.

A slower poison was different.

It cut with a soft knife.

At first, there was almost nothing to feel.

By the time the victim noticed the toxin had already spread.

Third Master Xue specialized in high-end dirty work.

Hearing this, the Third Prince gave Xue San a grateful nod.

Then, with some difficulty he turned toward Lady Wu.

He genuinely loved this woman from Jin.

She was different from the women of the snowfields.

She understood books and etiquette.

She knew a little of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting.

Whenever she remained beside him, she could create an illusion.

As though he were not living amid the freezing winds of the snowfields but sitting inside a white-walled, black-tiled courtyard in Jiangnan, listening to spring rain fall soft as butter.

The Third Prince was grateful to her.

Grateful for all the beautiful days she had given him.

A beauty untouched by the slightest sense of desecration.

Lady Wu was kneeling on the ground now with one hand over her mouth, terror covering her face.

Earlier, she had not thrown herself in front of the Third Prince and shouted:

*If you want to kill him, kill me first!*

Nor had she crawled to Count Zheng’s feet and begged that she was willing to become an ox, a horse, or anything else if only he spared the Third Prince.

She had done nothing.

Because she was terrified beyond thought.

In a scene like this before an event like this she was only an ordinary woman.

Her mind had already gone blank.

The Third Prince forced a faint smile toward her.

Then he turned again and looked at Zheng Fan.

Count Zheng sat in the chair before him, leaning back with one leg crossed over the other, his hands folded over his knee.

The Third Prince felt grateful.

This Yan Count had not simply turned around and left.

He was waiting for the Third Prince to finish dying.

People became unusually sensitive near death.

Old emotions rose easily.

“Count...

“I never touched Lady Wu.”

The Third Prince spoke carefully.

Xue San’s ears twitched.

*So Master’s old-villain-Cao-Cao tastes have spread all the way across the snowfields?*

“I ask the Count... spare her life.”

No matter how deeply outsiders misunderstood him, Count Zheng would never admit he truly possessed that particular fetish.

Forget everything else.

Madam Ke back home had looks, figure, and mature charm.

Yet he had remained practically “pure as jade.”

When personal feelings could become entangled with the Demon Kings a man had no choice but to be cautious.

Zheng Fan pointed toward Lady Wu.

“If she is a Jin subject, her household registration will naturally be restored.”

The Blind Man had not yet produced a formal, detailed policy for handling Jin slaves recovered from the snowfields.

But he had already discussed the governing principle with Zheng Fan.

Any Jin slave who returned to Snow Sea Pass would immediately be freed from slave status.

They would also be granted land to cultivate.

What Snow Sea Pass lacked most now was population.

Preferably its own population.

Savages could be used.

But for the moment, they could only be treated as labor.

Absorbing them directly into their own social body was still unrealistic.

Jin people were different.

Rescue them.

Help them.

Bind their interests to yours.

And they would naturally cling to your side with everything they had.

So this expedition served more than one purpose.

Yes, Count Zheng believed the Naiman Tribe had slapped him across the face.

Count Zheng possessed a poor temper.

Naturally, he intended to slap back ten times harder.

But he also intended to use this campaign to establish authority and force the snowfield tribes to make concessions regarding their Jin slaves.

When the savages invaded Jin, Heaven alone knew how many people they had carried north.

What was certain was that nearly half of Dacheng had been emptied until nine houses out of ten stood deserted.

The Third Prince nodded in relief.

Then he lifted his face toward the blue sky.

A smile appeared.

He wanted to preserve that smile.

To keep it frozen there until death.

But he quickly discovered that holding his head up in that posture was exhausting.

So exhausting that breathing itself became difficult.

He had no choice but to lower his head again.

“Count...

“I would like to compose a poem.”

He truly possessed the heart of a scholar.

Even before death he still wanted to preserve one final fragment of dignity for himself.

Count Zheng nodded.

“Very well.”

The Third Prince drew in a deep breath.

Complex, profound light filled his eyes.

Then, he released a long sigh.

Opened his mouth.

“...”

He died.

Not one word of the poem left his lips.

He simply froze there wearing the expression of a man about to begin reciting verse.

“Your Highness!

“YOUR HIGHNESS!”

Only now did Lady Wu finally break down and begin sobbing.

Zheng Fan remained leaned back in the chair.

He watched the dead Third Prince, mouth still slightly open, his expression frozen forever at the beginning of a poem.

And suddenly—

Zheng Fan felt the image was beautiful.

Not especially heroic.

Not especially tragic.

It was not even a scene likely to stir much sympathy.

Because very few people could truly understand what they were looking at.

Other than Zheng Fan and a handful of men nearby nobody knew that this dead savage prince was someone the Savage King had personally ordered killed.

Someone the Savage King himself had judged:

*Let him live, and one day he will become another me.*

The Third Prince’s death gave Zheng Fan the sensation that he had personally strangled a future warlord—

No.

That was not right.

It felt as though he had personally strangled... an era.

Perhaps even if the Third Prince survived today, he might never truly rise.

He could die falling from a horse.

Die in an assassination.

Die from disease.

Die to betrayal.

Any one of a thousand accidents could prevent him from ever walking the road the Savage King imagined.

But none of that mattered anymore.

Because Zheng Fan had personally killed every possibility.

Zheng Fan looked toward Xue San.

Xue San looked back.

“Master?”

“Remember exactly what he looks like right now.

“When we get back, carve me a stone statue.

“I want to keep it.”

“Huu...”

Hearing those words, Third Master Xue felt as though his tailbone were about to start wagging.

If he still possessed a tail.

The content of Master’s words combined with the expression Master wore while speaking made Third Master Xue feel that his Master was truly, wonderfully perverse.

And somehow that was unexpectedly delightful.

“Master, rest assured.

“It’s all recorded in this subordinate’s head.”

Count Zheng nodded.

Then he ordered the men nearby:

“Make camp here.

“I’m going to sleep for a while.”

With that, he rested one elbow on the arm of the chair, propped his cheek in his hand, and closed his eyes.

He could not be bothered finding somewhere else.

He simply slept right there.

For a time the entire area fell silent.

Whether prisoners being guarded nearby or Keyan warriors moving around the camp, everyone instinctively softened their steps and tried not to make noise.

When he slept the world ought to be silent.

...

“This entire disaster is because of you!

“You led men to chase those escaping slaves—fine!

“If you failed to catch them, that would have been one thing.

“But after you caught them, why did you kill them all?

“Why did you stack their corpses there?

“You idiot!

“How did I produce such a stupid son?”

The Naiman King roared at his eldest son.

Fresh intelligence had just arrived.

Yan troops had broken through the former Anyang Tribe pastures west of Deep Pool.

Their spearhead was already approaching the core Naiman lands.

And the origin of this entire catastrophe was the recklessness of this eldest son.

“Father, what did your son do wrong?

“Those Jin slaves dared betray the tribe and flee.

“They deserved death!

“They needed to be made an example of!

“Otherwise, how are we supposed to control the slaves in our tribe from now on?”

“You bastard!

“You fool!”

The Naiman King was too furious to continue.

His third son’s fate was still unknown.

That alone had struck him hard.

“Father, there is no need to worry.

“Even if the Yan sent troops this time, they cannot have many.

“Your son is willing to lead the warriors of the Naiman Tribe against them.”

Peace was peace.

An alliance was an alliance.

Just as Count Zheng had always planned to deal with the snowfield tribes once he had free hands, the snowfield chieftains had never naively believed this peace would last forever.

So they too had used every available method to investigate Snow Sea Pass.

According to what they knew—

Count Pingye did not possess very many troops.

Even so, he remained terrifying.

Because behind Count Pingye stood the Marquis of Jingnan.

And behind the Marquis stood the entire State of Yan.

Even if the Naiman Tribe somehow won one clash against Snow Sea Pass, what happened afterward?

What if Yan dispatched a true army?

What if that southern Marquis of Yan once again took command and marched onto the snowfields?

After losing the Savage King, the snowfield tribes had already lost what little cohesion they once possessed.

There was no possibility of organizing a true national war against a great state.

Still the immediate crisis had to be faced.

They could hardly allow the Yan army to march all the way here.

Yet faced with his eldest son volunteering for command, the Naiman King did not immediately agree.

Instead, he appointed one of his own younger brothers as commander of the army and ordered him to lead the core tribal warriors against the enemy.

The eldest son and second son—who had always hated one another—were both appointed deputy commanders and ordered to lead their own followers in support.

The Naiman King understood one principle extremely well.

The more dangerous the crisis the more carefully a father needed to guard against his own sons.

Once the arrangements were made, the tribe’s warriors began preparing to march.

Afterward, the Naiman King received the envoys from nearby tribes who had arrived the previous day.

This time, he did not hesitate.

He agreed to divide slaves and livestock among them as payment for military aid and urged the envoys to return home immediately and persuade their chieftains to send troops.

He even cited an example his third son had once taught him:

**when the lips perish, the teeth grow cold.**

After finishing all of this, the exhausted Naiman King returned to his royal tent.

The tent was enormous.

Inside, curtains and partitions divided it into several smaller chambers.

The Naiman King walked directly into the innermost one.

There sat a beautiful woman weaving a leather garment.

She appeared to be around thirty.

She wore red.

Sitting there, she seemed almost like a beam of light.

The sight intoxicated the Naiman King.

This woman had never borne him a child.

Even so, she held his heart completely.

The woman gave him a charming smile.

“Meow...”

A cat cried from beneath the bed.

Then a black cat walked out.

Her pet.

The Naiman King sat beside the bed.

His gaze gradually became unfocused.

He saw himself throwing the woman down.

He saw the two of them entwined together in passion.

But in reality the Naiman King had merely fallen asleep.

Soon he began snoring.

The woman set aside the half-finished leather garment.

She looked at the sleeping Naiman King with faint disgust.

Then shook her head.

“Looks like something has happened to the Naiman Tribe.”

Only two people were inside the royal tent.

One of them was already unconscious.

Yet a third voice immediately answered:

“Do you regret it?”

The voice came from the black cat.

The woman stretched lazily and did not answer at once.

The black cat jumped onto the bed, looked directly at her, and spoke human words.

“Huaji.

“Do you regret it?”

The woman sighed helplessly.

“You seem desperate to hear me say those four words:

“‘I regret it.’”

“Yes.”

“Does that even need saying?”

“Look at the man you chose.

“His tribe is facing disaster, yet he still chooses to run back here looking for a woman.

“How blind were you back then to choose him?”

“I originally had my eye on his third son.”

“And he didn’t want you?

“So you climbed into his father’s bed instead?”

“Yes.

“He didn’t want me.

“He was wary of me.

“Suspicious of me.

“I practically threw myself into his arms and he still refused.

“What else could I do?

“I had no choice but to climb into his father’s bed— and listen to him call me Mother.”

“Are all women this bored?”

“Enough nonsense.

“What do we do now?

“I heard the Yan army has already reached the western side of Deep Pool.

“That is not especially far from here.”

“If you want to run, there is still time.

“I do not believe the Naiman Tribe can stop the Yan.

“And even if they manage it this once, the next Yan army will destroy them eventually.

“These savage chieftains and nobles who refused to follow the Savage King into the passes— they do not understand... how ruthless the Yan truly are!

“If you let the Yan profit, perhaps things remain peaceful.

“But if you make them suffer a loss— even a tiny one the Yan will spend whatever price is necessary to smash their dignity back into place.

“Their emperor.

“Their marquises.

“Their generals.

“Every one of them is insane.

“Completely insane!”

“You’re still bitter because you almost got eaten back then?”

“If I had been one step slower, the Pixiu beneath that northern Marquis of Yan would have swallowed me whole!”

“I know, I know.

“You suffered terribly.

“Poor thing.”

The woman picked up the half-finished leather garment again and carefully examined the stitching.

“But I’ve decided not to leave.

“In my eyes, Yan and savages are not really different.

“They’re both human.

“Just as in their eyes, whether we’re cats or foxes doesn’t make much difference.

“We’re all spirit creatures.

“As for this man...”

The woman glanced toward the unconscious Naiman King.

“He is finished.

“I chose him because he was easy to control.

“Easy to make obedient.

“And he never disappointed me.

“But now that he has outlived his usefulness—

I may as well let go and throw him away.”

“You refuse to leave.

“You refuse to flee?”

Suspicion flashed through the black cat’s eyes.

Then shock.

“You want to stay?”

“Yes.

“I am a royal consort.

“A delicate, beautiful royal consort.

“No matter how savage Yan soldiers are, they are still men.

“I refuse to believe that Count Pingye could slaughter his way in here, storm into the royal tent, see me— and feel nothing.”

Huaji covered her mouth and giggled softly.

“Men.

“They’re all the same.”

“Heh.”

The black cat gave a disdainful snort.

“What?

“You won’t stay with me?”

“Why would I stay with you?

“I would like to live a few more years.

“For spirit creatures like us, awakening intelligence is difficult enough.

“I have no desire to die early.”

“The world is enormous.

“If we leave the Naiman Tribe, where exactly do we go?

“Find another Naiman King?

“I’m tired of that.

“And even if I weren’t, these so-called tribal chieftains carry no true noble aura at all.

“You can follow them for years and absorb nothing useful.

“They can wear whatever kingly title they please.

“It means nothing.

“Yanjing has Pixiu.

“Creatures like that are exceptionally sensitive to our kind and particularly enjoy feeding upon spirit creatures.

“Chu has its Fire Phoenix.

“The Great Marsh is full of strange beings as well, and Chu shamans can deal with us easily.

“As for Qian’s Qi Refiners— every one of those bastards would love to exterminate us and accumulate merit from Heaven and Earth.

“But that Yan Count Pingye was personally enfeoffed by the Emperor of Yan.

“He should possess a considerable amount of noble aura, shouldn’t he?

“You don’t want any?

“Truly?

“You can actually bear to let it go?”

As she spoke, the woman unconsciously extended her tongue and slowly licked her lips.

The gesture was extraordinarily seductive.

“Huaji.

“Do not imagine this world is so simple.

“At the end of the day— this is still a world belonging to humans.

“What if Count Pingye has no interest in you?”

“How could he possibly have no interest in me?

“Unless the State of Yan enfeoffed a eunuch as Count Pingye— or Count Pingye’s wife is somehow more beautiful than I am, more alluring than I am, and better at serving and pleasing men than I am.

“Heh.

“Tell me— is that possible?”

...

The Keyan Tribe’s seven thousand-plus warriors did not move for the next two days.

According to Zheng Fan’s orders, they were simply waiting for the Naiman army to come to them.

Fortunately, the earlier raid had produced a considerable haul.

There was no need to worry about running out of food.

And following normal wartime practice, Count Zheng generously slaughtered a large number of captured cattle and sheep to reward the troops.

The morale of the Keyan warriors remained extremely high.

As for Count Zheng’s personal ability to command armies... because he had never dared completely let himself go, even Zheng Fan did not know exactly what “rank” he would occupy as an independent battlefield commander.

But some rigid fundamentals he understood perfectly well.

On campaign, military supply was paramount.

Whatever else happened keeping soldiers full and properly fed remained the most direct and effective way to preserve their will to fight.

The Naiman army finally appeared on the second day.

It did not immediately attack.

Instead, mounted scouts began probing Zheng Fan’s position.

Count Zheng could not be bothered playing some elaborate scout-war game with them.

Too much effort.

He simply ordered Keyan Dongge and Jin Shuke to remain still.

Another day passed.

The Naiman slave troops and subordinate forces arrived as well.

The army gathered opposite Zheng Fan now exceeded twenty thousand.

The difference in numbers had grown beyond two to one.

Almost three to one.

Was Count Zheng nervous?

A little.

Naturally, he could never show it.

One genuinely admirable trait Zheng Fan possessed was that he rarely insisted on doing things he had no confidence in.

If he was going to act he preferred to remain inside his professional field.

For example:

**How to become the perfect mascot and extract the maximum possible value from being one.**

On that subject—

Count Zheng possessed overwhelming confidence.

He had trained for it.

He had not merely slept outdoors after killing the Third Prince.

Over the following days, Count Zheng either slept openly in his chair or piled dry grass into a crude little bed and lay down directly beside the camp entrance.

The behavior genuinely stabilized morale.

Barbarians possessed a natural hierarchy of contempt toward savages.

At the same time, barbarians respected Yan military power.

When they saw this Yan Count—now also their new master—remaining so completely calm, their own nerves settled with him.

There was no other choice.

This barbarian force had been pulled directly into battle before even undergoing reorganization.

If they had been his own core troops, Count Zheng would never have needed to put on this kind of performance.

A Sixth Grade Martial Artist’s body made it difficult to catch an ordinary cold.

Even so, after several nights of snowfield wind blowing across him, Count Zheng’s head began feeling faintly swollen.

During that time, the Naiman Tribe sent an envoy.

The envoy’s posture was extremely low.

The Naiman Tribe offered slaves and livestock as compensation and asked Count Pingye to calm his anger.

They currently held the numerical advantage yet still had to bow.

Zheng Fan understood perfectly well where that fear came from.

The Black Dragon Banner of the Great Yan Dynasty flying above his camp.

Count Zheng was an eminently reasonable man.

He received the Naiman envoy warmly, expressed enormous anticipation and desire for peace talks, and carefully explained Great Yan’s fundamental position of peaceful coexistence and friendly neighborly relations with every tribe of the snowfields.

Just as the Naiman envoy began feeling delighted that he might actually complete his mission the conditions arrived.

And left him dumbstruck.

First—

Count Zheng demanded the Naiman Tribe surrender its Eldest Prince.

He had been the principal culprit responsible for massacring Jin people outside Snow Sea Pass.

A criminal like that had to be brought back to Snow Sea Pass, after which the Emperor of Yan would be asked to issue a decree for his trial.

Second the Naiman King had failed to control his subordinates and thereby disappointed His Majesty the Emperor of Yan, who had personally enfeoffed him.

Still, the Naiman King bore a royal title.

So he should personally depart for Snow Sea Pass, cross Jin territory, continue to Yanjing, and confess his crimes before His Majesty.

Finally—

Count Zheng patted his own chest and once again explained his sincere yearning for peace and his hopes for a beautiful future.

The envoy left the Yan camp in a daze, looking as though he had seen a ghost.

And really hadn’t he?

Surrender the Eldest Prince?

That condition was harsh.

But the envoy actually thought it might not be completely impossible.

Their chieftain had plenty of sons.

They had already lost the third.

If they lost the eldest too there was still an entire nest left.

Besides, the Eldest Prince’s ambition and personal power had been growing so rapidly that the Naiman King had already begun fearing him.

But surrender the Naiman King as well?

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Was this still a peace negotiation?

A man could understand the problem with his toes.

If the price of peace was sacrificing the chieftain himself, then unless the stars had smashed the man stupid, how could any chieftain possibly agree?

The standoff continued for roughly four days.

Throughout those four days, the Yan force refused battle and remained behind its camp defenses.

The fortifications themselves were hardly impressive.

But effectiveness always depended on the opponent.

There was no need to use an ox-cleaver to kill a chicken.

Against savages even a field camp built by barbarians who were not especially skilled in fortified warfare was enough to make their teeth ache.

After negotiations failed, the Naiman Eldest Prince twice led troops close to the camp and challenged the Yan to battle.

The Yan still refused to come out.

*If you want to attack, then attack.*

*Even if we finish the rations we carried from home, this place is full of captured grain and livestock.*

*We have food.*

*We have drink.*

*We’re not in a hurry.*

Another reason the Naiman warriors gradually grew bolder—and increasingly eager to provoke battle—was that they finally noticed something.

This “Yan army” did not look like the Yan army they had imagined.

The armor and weapons of these soldiers were just as shabby as their own!

The savages had no idea the barbarians had already placed them at the very bottom of their own hierarchy of contempt.

So now the savages began looking down on the barbarians.

And throughout all of it—

Count Zheng remained unmoving as a mountain.

He was counting days.

Liang Cheng’s detour should be close to succeeding.

The Savage King’s plan depended heavily upon timing.

They had to strike at exactly the right moment, when the Naiman Tribe was weakest, and break it with the smallest possible cost.

And they had to finish before reinforcements from other tribes arrived.

Once the Naiman Tribe was destroyed or shattered, those other tribes would not suddenly discover the wisdom of *when the lips perish, the teeth grow cold*.

They would think about something much more practical.

The Yan were never going to come onto the snowfields and graze livestock themselves.

If the Naiman Tribe disappeared then its empty pastures and scattered population could be divided among everyone else.

That was reality.

The rise and fall of the Savage King had cost the snowfields more than one hundred thousand warriors.

It had also consumed a large number of the tribes possessing vision and understanding.

The essence had already been swept away.

What remained were mostly shortsighted tribes and shortsighted chieftains.

On the fifth day of the standoff, the Yan camp released large numbers of mounted scouts and began aggressively suppressing Naiman reconnaissance.

At the same time, operatives personally trained by Xue San joined the hunt.

The barbarian scouts were the finest warriors of the Keyan Tribe.

Xue San’s men were true selections from among hundreds.

Naiman scouting losses immediately became severe.

Then, on the sixth day frontline scouts brought back intelligence.

A Naiman cavalry force of roughly five thousand had detached from the main army and withdrawn.

Count Zheng immediately drew his saber.

He cut in half the chair he had spent the entire week sleeping in.

Then he kicked Jin Shuke and Keyan Dongge squarely in the backside, one after the other.

“BEAT THE DRUMS!

“WE ATTACK!”

Zheng Fan did not believe the five-thousand-man Naiman movement was some elaborate feint.

Because Zheng Fan did not believe Liang Cheng would fail.

That was confidence in Liang Cheng.

Absolute confidence in the quality and ability of the Demon Kings beneath him.

Therefore, the Naiman rear had definitely caught fire.

And if Zheng Fan waited another day or two merely to observe, reinforcements from neighboring savage tribes might finally begin arriving.

Under Count Zheng’s command, Jin Shuke and Keyan Dongge personally organized the troops.

Seven thousand-plus barbarian cavalry rode openly out of the camp and began forming ranks outside.

The sight shocked the Naiman army.

Their Eldest Prince had only just withdrawn with five thousand core warriors in an urgent rush to protect the rear.

The Naiman commander—one of the Naiman King’s younger brothers—suddenly became uncertain.

Should he attack?

Or should he pull back and defend?

A’Ming, that dependable tool of a man, rode behind Zheng Fan.

On a battlefield, wherever Master went he went.

He had to enter his role properly.

A perfectly emotionless arrow-blocking machine.

And Count Zheng facing seven thousand-plus barbarian cavalrymen he had known for less than half a month once again demonstrated his true specialty.

Count Zheng rode the Pixiu before the formation.

His cavalry saber rose high.

The Pixiu beneath him understood the assignment and galloped back and forth with all four legs flying, trying its absolute best to appear majestic.

Then Zheng Fan opened his mouth.

A’Ming and Xue San immediately looked at one another.

Both saw surprise in the other’s eyes.

They were not alone.

Jin Shuke.

Keyan Dongge.

And an enormous number of the barbarian cavalry all reacted the same way.

“WARRIORS OF THE KEYAN TRIBE!”

Because Zheng Fan had shouted those words in the barbarian tongue.

Even the Demon Kings had no idea when Master had learned it.

But the fact before them was undeniable.

Zheng Fan had learned.

And he spoke fluently.

Truthfully, Zheng Fan had enjoyed plenty of opportunities to learn the barbarian language.

But from the time they migrated from Tiger Head City to Cuiliu Fort, requiring the barbarian soldiers to learn the Xia tongue had already become tradition.

Take Jin Shuke.

His use of idioms still occasionally came out awkward, but ordinary communication in the Xia language presented no problem whatsoever.

Xue San gave a soft “heh.”

Then whispered to A’Ming:

“Master really knows how to hide his depth.”

“Who would truly be content to spend an entire lifetime as nothing more than a mascot?” A’Ming asked.

“You make us sound like villains raising him in some locked-room experiment.”

“Master chooses to study.

“Master chooses to improve.

“Shouldn’t we be happy?”

“Then why did none of us hear a single rumor?”

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know.”

A’Ming ignored him.

He lifted his waterskin and took another mouthful of blood.

Fresh.

Delicious.

Wonderful.

He needed to drink while he still could.

Because he had a strong feeling that before long he was going to lose a great deal of blood.

Zheng Fan brandished his cavalry saber and roared:

“WARRIORS OF THE KEYAN TRIBE!

“I am your new master!

“By now, you should all know who I am!

“Zheng Fan—

Chief Commander of Snow Sea Pass of the Great Yan Dynasty!

“Count Pingye!

“There is very little in this life that this Count dares boast about.

“But there is one thing I know better than anyone!

“WINNING WARS!

“Across every battle this Count has fought over these years—

I HAVE NEVER BEEN DEFEATED!

“Every campaign ended in overwhelming victory!

“And this time— will be no different!

“Before you stand the savages of the snowfields!

“You all saw how those savages have spent the last several days provoking us!

“So let this Count tell you one thing clearly!

“If the soldiers inside this camp had been regular Yan troops instead of you— then even if I gave those savages ten extra measures of courage, they would never have dared approach and provoke us!

“But now— they dare!

“Why?

“Because those savages believe Yan men are difficult to bully— but barbarians are easy!

“THE SAVAGES LOOK DOWN ON YOU!

“Yes!

“YOU HAVE BEEN LOOKED DOWN UPON BY SAVAGES!

“SAVAGES LOOK DOWN ON BARBARIANS!

“THE GREAT BARBARIAN GOD WATCHES ABOVE!

“And you— the god’s own children have allowed a pack of uncivilized beasts who eat raw flesh and cling to life on these snowfields—

TO LOOK DOWN UPON YOU!”

Stirring ethnic hostility and manufacturing regional contempt were among the best ways to ignite fury before battle.

Count Zheng happened to be exceptionally skilled at both.

If he could pour more killing intent into these barbarian troops before the charge why would he not?

“WARRIORS OF THE KEYAN TRIBE!

“I can give you fine armor!

“I can give you sharp cavalry sabers!

“I can give you deadly arrows!

“I can give you cattle!

“I can give you sheep!

“I can give you slaves!

“I can ensure that your families— your entire tribe never again worry about clothing or food!

“I can protect the Keyan Tribe!

“I can let you multiply and prosper beneath Snow Sea Pass!

“I can protect you from disease!

“I can protect you from hunger!

“I can protect you from cold!

“I CAN PROTECT EVERYTHING YOU POSSESS!

“AND I CAN GIVE YOU EVERYTHING YOU DESIRE!

“But first—

PROVE SOMETHING TO ME!

“Prove— that you deserve what I give you!

“Show me— your courage!

“Your fearlessness!

“Your strength!

“THE BARBARIAN GOD WATCHES ABOVE!

“From the highest vault of Heaven— the god is watching you!

“Watching the god’s own children— write the blood-courage and strength of the barbarian race across these snowfields!

“A land no barbarian has set foot upon for a thousand years!

“FROM THIS DAY FORWARD— the legend of the Barbarian God will be told here as well!

“And before the majesty of the Barbarian God— the stars worshipped by the savages—

WILL LOSE THEIR LIGHT!”

Zheng Fan hauled on the reins.

The Pixiu immediately reared high, front hooves raised and hind legs digging into the earth.

A tiny trail of flame even burst from its nostrils.

The beast had not yet fully matured.

This was already the absolute limit of what it could manage.

It had given Count Zheng every scrap of face it possessed.

Count Zheng leveled his cavalry saber toward the distant Naiman army.

Qi and blood surged through him nearly boiling.

Then he roared:

“FOLLOW THIS COUNT—

AND CRUSH THEM!”

[End of Chapter 385]