The rough fingertips moved eastward across Ottoman, Turkmen, Arab, and Persian territories, slowly settling down at the blue Caspian Sea.
The fingertip continued moving east, passing through the yellow smoke-filled great desert, pointing toward the Heavenly Garden.
The finger joints closed together, rolling up the map in hand. In an instant, a pair of sharp leopard eyes gazed ahead.
In the winter afternoon, the Orthodox believer dressed in white returned to the royal capital. Heavenly light reflected off the palace spires, revealing the empire’s divine majesty. This was a land of abundance, the greatest nation in the Western Regions, the legendary city of Samarkand. The fierce figure at the palace’s main gate had been summoned back to the capital, about to write a new page of legend for the empire.
“Timur Milik.” The Great Khan bestowed upon him the title – he was the eighth generation “Sha Jin.”
The long hood covered the Orthodox hero’s forehead, hanging down to both sides of his cheeks. The wide, high collar stood up, concealing his bearded chin and lips. Except for those bright eyes, General Leopard was unwilling to reveal anything, as shy as the women of the Hui people.
Women hide their beautiful faces with veils – for strict commandments, they keep their bodily beauty for their husbands. But what about heroes? Using thick beards to cover resolute lips, using long hoods to cover handsome cheeks – for whom was Timur Milik keeping his fierce face? Could it be for the omnipresent Allah?
Putting the map into his bosom, the eighth generation “Sha Jin” dismissed his followers and strode directly toward the royal palace.
Walking up the broad porcelain steps, the precious blue tiles below sparked with light like the vast blue Caspian Sea. Military boots rang out with each step. As the warrior returned to his homeland, guards on both sides stood solemnly with raised spears. General Leopard was a deity in their hearts – none dared show disrespect.
The tall figure walked fearlessly. Timur Milik strode forward boldly. Suddenly his footsteps paused. Timur Milik drew a deep breath, turned solemnly, and gazed up at that breathtaking great blood wall.
It had been a long time since he’d seen this mural – two years, it seemed. Since his mission to Ottoman, he had never returned to the capital to contemplate this endless bloody great mural.
Picture after picture depicted the legends of the Khanate. He was handsome, brave, tall, and learned – a hero… But depicting him required no multicolored glazes, only cutting sheep’s throats and letting blood-like scalding red splash upon the walls. That was enough.
The origin of all legends – “The Lame One.” To depict his fierce countenance required only one color: great blood red.
In the 1,370th year after the birth of the Western Saint, unifying the Uighur people, Persians, and Putusha people, “The Lame One” created the Second Mongol Empire. This was the story in the murals. “The Lame One” stepped over corpse-strewn ground, punished the northern Kipchak Kingdom, invaded the southern Tianzhu, slaughtered the western Ottomans and Ilkhanate. This king of killers claimed to be a descendant of Genghis Khan – he was the founding saint-emperor of the Second Empire, Emperor Timur.
That terrifyingly fierce face – even the eighth generation Sha Jin could not match it. He was forced to step back, his heart trembling.
“The Lame One” had almost unified the Orthodox territories. The fierce Ottomans, the brave Seljuks – these heroes were nothing but sheep for slaughter in his eyes. This great emperor killed many people – he even killed his own ancestors. Claiming to be a direct descendant of Mongol princes, Timur’s features didn’t resemble the noble Genghis Khan at all – he was of Turkic descent.
“The Lame One” conquered countless people but could not conquer himself – he even had to forge his own lineage.
Turkic people falsely claiming to be Mongols, Persians disguising as Arabs – unfortunate eras always have much sorrow. Perhaps such helplessness comforted him, making him choose this conqueror’s name, from then on calling himself…
“Timur Milik! Timur Milik!”
His contemplation was interrupted as someone called his name from behind. Though he had used this name since birth, he still felt it was foreign. Timur Milik sighed quietly, turned around, knelt on one knee, and awaited the arrival of the Western Regions’ greatest power’s sovereign.
Urgent footsteps rang out, creating echoes in the spacious palace corridor. Looking around, there were bearded men everywhere – bearded soldiers surrounding a bearded man who came before him. Timur Milik lowered his head and eyes, crossed his hands before his chest, and praised: “Great Khan Your Majesty, Timur Milik dares not look directly upon Your lion-like countenance.”
The broad man before him was called “Daboer Khan” – he was the current ruler of the Khanate. Facing praise, the sovereign only nodded as usual. He patted Timur Milik’s shoulder and let out a long breath: “You’ve finally returned from the west…”
Facing the Khan, Timur Milik also narrowed his leopard eyes tightly as usual. In his ears seemed to ring that heated debate…
Muli Cha Khan had said: “Slaughter is ignorance! The Khanate is strong enough. Men who rule empires need not be fierce warriors. If the Western Regions want prosperity and wealth, they must choose a benevolent king. Daboer Khan – he is my decision!”
“Benevolence is weakness! The grasslands are cruel – a benevolent lion has no food. It will be eaten by other male lions, its mate will be raped!” Like a fierce lion from Tianzhu, the Fourth Prince gave a lion’s roar to his Buddha-like father: “Your decision is wrong!”
Following behind the Khan, Timur Milik couldn’t help but sigh quietly. As a warrior, he preferred to believe the Fourth Prince. Cowards wouldn’t start wars, but they also couldn’t protect the Khanate. Daboer Khan was no hero – his insight didn’t match his father’s, his talent didn’t match his ancestors’. He was powerless to maintain the empire.
What to do? Even Buddha’s boundless divine power couldn’t solve this puzzle – how would Muli Cha Khan resolve it?
The answer was a treasure. Timur Milik’s downturned mouth corners slightly relaxed as the treasure’s appearance flashed before his eyes.
That year, the treasure stood on barren, empty land and innocently answered Benli Cha: “We’re not lions – we don’t have sharp claws, but we…” The treasure raised two tender little hands and smiled: “Have these!”
For eleven years, the Khanate hadn’t fought a single war, but its territory had grown larger and its products increased. Fierce Turkmen became gentle farmers, proud Turkic people became skilled craftsmen. When they laid down their rebellious blades, picked up ox-plows, and called the treasure’s name from their hearts, their gratitude to Muli Cha Khan became even more sincere.
“Yinchuan, our mother, our elder sister. We thank you for bringing us food.”
Princess Yinchuan – she was the answer to this puzzle and the treasure Muli Cha Khan left for his subjects.
Timur Milik’s eyes flashed with amusement, and his steps unconsciously became larger.
The first time he heard the treasure’s story was in the palace during the new king’s coronation.
Back then, he had been assigned to the guard unit and summoned to meet the Chinese princess. Before the formal audience, Timur Milik had heard the legend – it was said that when this woman came to the western frontier, she amazed all armies with her queenly bearing. Even the fiercest “Prince Boerchi” had been dazzled.
Mistaking a tame sheep by the pillow for treasure – wasn’t this more than just a huge joke? It was probably a warning of national destruction. Timur Milik of that time couldn’t help but laugh heartily. Cold and arrogant, he also had a treasure in his heart, but it had nothing to do with feminine beauty. From Persia to Turkmen, whether southern Tianzhu women or northern Kipchak women, he didn’t want to spare them even a proper glance.
Like proud Turkic people and overbearing Mongols, this famous general also had ancestral glory from the past. His reason for serving the Khanate was only for one long-buried, forgotten treasure. What was Yinchuan doing here? He was too lazy to care.
Standing below the palace steps waiting for audience with the lofty princess, when that unreachable gaze fell upon him, Timur Milik announced his name like other guards. But unlike others, he didn’t want the queen consort to have any impression of him. Already covering his face with the long hood, when announcing his name, he made his voice hoarse – the five characters “Timur Milik” were low, fast, and completely indistinguishable.
There were thousands of such names in the Khanate – no one could remember them. Even he often forgot, let alone others?
He had disguised everything because he wasn’t here to play. When the Fourth Prince rebelled, he didn’t follow. When the new king took power, he didn’t cheer either. Who was in power, who was rebelling – none of it concerned him. What occupied his heart was only that treasure, which cried out nightly and continuously entangled him, finally making him risk life and death to enter the Khanate alone and become a palace guard.
A year later, he finally got an opportunity. This was a once-in-a-lifetime night. Tonight was a hunt – most guards were protecting His Majesty. Only he was watching the entire garden. If he couldn’t succeed tonight, he’d have to wait another five years.
Following his father’s dying words, he came to that great tree. He cleared away soil and pulled up dozens of golden sparrow flowers. At that moment, brilliance flashed before his eyes. A hundred years of legend was confirmed, and the dusty past in his heart was also revealed…
Timur Milik bit back tears. After ten years of effort spanning five generations, it had finally returned to his hands. The lonely warrior tightly embraced his treasure as tears unconsciously fell.
Almost on the verge of sobbing, Timur Milik was startled. He bit his silver teeth and looked sideways toward the back garden, where bright moon hung high. Under the moon was a brilliantly shining woman. Gentle light made her silk hair lustrous, highlighting her even whiter, more tender skin.
Throughout the vast Western Regions, countless women existed, but there was only one beauty in the entire kingdom whose hair could fall like a waterfall over her shoulders.
Yinchuan had come to stroll in the imperial garden – surprisingly, she had no palace maids accompanying her.
This second meeting undoubtedly let Timur Milik see more clearly. Since his mother’s death when he was twelve, he had never again seen a beauty from the East. So though Timur Milik was surprised, his gaze involuntarily stopped and lingered on the beauty who shone like porcelain.
Perhaps he stared too intently – when the Chinese beauty turned around and noticed him crouching under the tree, Timur Milik couldn’t retreat in time. He showed panic and knew he had made a great mistake.
No guard should be sitting. Guards should stand, should walk – their duty was patrol. Timur Milik quickly lowered his head, letting the long hood cover his face. He didn’t want to cause trouble, much less have the queen consort recognize him.
Footsteps approached as the beauty slowly came over. The queen consort’s shadow fell on the negligent guard’s face.
“You’re slacking off.” The correct, clear Hui language was pleasant to hear.
Hmph… Timur Milik didn’t speak aloud but snorted in his heart. Silent, he slowly stood up – somewhat cold, somewhat rude, but not enough to incur blasphemy charges. Under the fierce leopard eyes’ gaze, the Chinese beauty looked at the golden sparrow flowers scattered on the ground and asked: “Did you kill these flowers?”
“Great Highness, they were too delicate…” Timur Milik shook his head grimly and said coldly: “The slightest disturbance could make them die.”
Hearing such an answer, the Chinese beauty stood speechless. She shook her head: “Precisely because they’re delicate, we should protect them more. Don’t you think so?” She crouched down and picked up the dead flowers one by one. After a long while, holding a handful of golden sparrow flowers, she finally turned to leave.
Timur Milik watched coldly, then suddenly shouted sharply: “Please stop! Your Highness.”
The Chinese beauty looked back toward the tiger-leopard under the tree. She heard him say: “Leave the flowers behind.”
Both unreasonable and rude – this request was very strange. The princess was somewhat surprised, her beautiful eyes blinking as she asked: “Why?”
Timur Milik lowered his head, his right hand slowly moving into his jacket’s inner pocket, grasping the cross dart: “This is the place I guard. Even you shouldn’t pluck flowers and plants.” He was clearly the one who had destroyed the flowers, yet could only stop her so directly. He wasn’t good at lying and didn’t know how to deceive – in any case, he wouldn’t allow the queen consort to leave carrying golden sparrow flowers.
He must protect his secret… Those flowers would surely attract others’ attention and quickly bring palace maids. When the matter of digging in the flower garden was exposed, his punishment would be minor, but if his origins were revealed, that would be serious indeed. At this moment, he must confirm this woman posed no harm to him, otherwise… he had no other choice.
Timur Milik was very fierce. The queen consort seemed somewhat surprised. She nodded, knelt down with knees together in a slight crouch, and under the fierce gaze, placed the handful of flowers back on the ground. This woman’s bearing was indeed elegant – even when dropping flowers, she didn’t bend at the waist. Her upper body remained straight as her white hands gently let the flowers sleep together, as if making them a nest.
Very good… Timur Milik relaxed slightly. “Your Highness, you won’t tell anyone about me sleeping under the tree, will you?”
The leopard eyes like knives lingered on the queen consort’s snow-tender cheeks – this was an extremely taboo act, but he must ensure safety. He didn’t want to cause trouble. If the queen consort spread the news or made a fuss in the palace, he would still have to make a decision.
Fickle women… As long as they showed cunning expressions or worried looks, whatever they answered needn’t be listened to. Timur Milik didn’t want to take any risks, especially at the moment of uncovering the treasure.
The queen consort’s smile was as usual. He heard her smile and say: “You’re very lazy and good at destroying flowers and plants. Among the hundreds of guards in the palace, not one is as terrible as you…” The leopard eyes narrowed slightly as the cross dart slowly emerged from his pocket. Then he heard: “But don’t worry… I don’t like people being whipped, so I won’t tell…”
This voice was extremely sincere with no trace of falsehood. He could tell this woman was naturally incapable of lying. Timur Milik relaxed, his claws retracted as he released the cross dart. Just as he was about to thank the queen consort, she smiled slightly and spoke the words he feared most.
“Are you at ease now, Timur Milik?”
This sudden statement made his right hand tighten again. A name that even he would forget – yet the queen consort could remember it. She was no ordinary woman. The guard under the tree appeared extremely uneasy, fear showing in his eyes as his feet involuntarily paced like a prowling leopard.
“You… why do you remember my name?” Timur Milik gasped.
“In my country, warriors don’t hide their faces…” The queen consort smiled and paused, her gaze lightly sweeping toward his hooded face: “You’re very different – you use your hood to cover your face, so I remember your name: Timur Milik of the long hood.”
He had never been so afraid… From childhood to adulthood, always hiding his name and identity. If his act were exposed, he couldn’t stay in this country. Timur Milik clenched his teeth and fists. Now there were two paths: leave the Khanate immediately, or sit and wait for death until his identity was exposed. He was considering whether to flee immediately and leave this exhausting land.
“Timur Milik, your gaze is like that of a loyal subject, but you conceal your appearance. Can you tell me why?”
The woman before him was clearly an idiot – she was saying even more disturbing words. She had decided his fate for him.
Timur Milik had no choice. He revealed the treasure he had dug up under the tree and found a noble sacrifice for this treasure.
This was a critical moment. With no one around, past midnight, in a quiet courtyard where no one could save the queen consort’s life.
His finger pressed against his years of suffering – as soon as cold light flashed, this beauty’s head would be separated from her body.
“What an unusual knife…” The Chinese princess covered her mouth in amazement. She looked at the weapon about to devour people and showed curious expression: “I’ve never seen such a knife. May I borrow it to look?”
Damn… fool… “Of course, of course, my Highness.” Timur Milik smiled coldly, placing his years of hardship before the queen consort: “You can look as much as you want. Before you… hehe… before…”
Moonlight illuminated the divine object. As the princess held it heavily in her hands, her phoenix eyes moved – even wealthy as she was, she secretly gasped in amazement.
This blade was not merely a weapon but also a precious cultural artifact. The blade was covered with decorations, the scabbard had raised inscriptions, the handle had engraved patterns, the scabbard opening was wound with gold thread and arranged with twelve rubies. At the center of the scabbard was a piece of emerald ancient jade, though the scabbard body showed considerable damage, suggesting it had experienced many battles.
The cuneiform carvings on the scabbard were extremely complex, shaped somewhat like Chinese characters yet not Chinese characters, attracting the woman’s attention.
The queen consort gazed intently at the gleaming script, her expression focused as if trying to read it.
“Your Majesty the Queen Consort, don’t waste your effort. No one can understand these characters.” Timur Milik showed a proud expression: “If you’ve seen enough, I shall now make you…”
Before the word “die” could leave his mouth, the queen consort suddenly parted her cherry lips and spoke two characters first.
“Yelü?”
When these words were spoken, even the Western Regions’ peerless master known for having no blood or tears had to be shaken. For decades, no one had known his clan. His long-vanished glorious lineage was exposed in this instant. Timur Milik slowly lowered his steel blade as he opened his mouth wide, staring at the learned princess.
The queen consort blinked her beautiful large eyes and asked directly: “This is Khitan script, isn’t it?”
Timur Milik’s mouth fell open as he gasped. Yinchuan asked quietly: “You are Khitan?”
“Wrong, my Highness…” Timur Milik lifted the long veil covering his forehead, revealing his true tiger-like features. “I am Black Khitan – the only remaining Black Khitan in these ten thousand li of Western Regions.” With a swoosh, moonlight illuminated the precious blade as the warrior raised it toward heaven, saying resolutely: “A hundred years ago, this blade once dominated its era, pressure aura the northern and southern Tianshan. And this blade is also my family’s hereditary precious sword.”
Her intelligent large eyes gazed at the divine object, looking back and forth at the warrior before her. She made an “ah” sound and covered her mouth in soft exclamation: “I understand now – you are a descendant of the Western Liao king.”
Timur Milik smiled bitterly, looking at the glory raised high in his hands, his expression showing infinite loneliness like a defeated rooster.
Western Liao Black Khitan… Few people remembered, perhaps few people even knew that there had once been a loyal minister who single-handedly extended the great Liao dynasty’s fortune. When the Jin Jurchens invaded the south and Emperor Tianzuo was captured, the last loyal minister led sixteen riders alone across the desert to the distant Western Regions, single-handedly establishing the Western Liao court that enjoyed a hundred years of rule, historically known as Black Khitan…
This hundred years of achievement had long been buried – no one in the world remembered, yet it lived in his heart day and night. This suffering had summoned him to the palace to dig up the long-buried dynastic precious blade.
The precious blade seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, pressing until the Black Khitan’s eyes filled with tears and his shoulders trembled slightly.
“Timur Milik…” the queen consort said gently: “Your name wouldn’t be Milik. Your real name is…”
“I am called Chongzhen.” Though this was the most inappropriate place to reveal secrets – the palace – and she was an important figure of the Khanate, he still told the truth: “Yelü Chongzhen who reveres truth. Yelü Chongzhen who never lies.”
In the bloody Western Regions, historical glory was only a vicious curse. In the 250 years after Yelü Dashi opened heaven and earth, the nation had long been destroyed by Genghis Khan’s hands. Of all the Western Liao clan, only one Yelü Chongzhen remained. After his parents died, he became the only warrior in the ten thousand li of Tianshan who flowed with Khitan blood and spoke the Khitan language.
The purer his noble bloodline, the more he resembled a monster. To make himself look like a Uighur, Yelü Chongzhen threw away the black battle robes left by his ancestors. From childhood, he was forced to grow thick whiskers, change into Hui people’s clothing, and use the long hood to disguise his insufficiently prominent nose bridge.
This Khitan royal from the northern grasslands deceived himself and others by disguising as a Western Regions Turk. He tried as much as possible to forget he was of royal blood. Only by dedicating his martial arts to the conqueror and living as a fraud could life barely continue.
He was even more miserable than Emperor Tianzuo. The emperor who died in battle at least died in his homeland, but Timur Milik didn’t know who he was or where his homeland lay. He had dug up the precious blade wanting to find his ancestors’ glorious past. Now he had finally found it, but besides recovering more homesickness, what else did he have?
The precious blade was lowered. The Black Khitan who never told a lie in his life laughed heartily – Timur Milik was laughing, Yelü Chongzhen was crying. No matter who he was, he was like “The Lame One” Emperor Timur – a coward with no face to meet his ancestors.
Tears kept swirling as the Black Khitan laughed with vicissitude. Compassion appeared in the Chinese princess’s eyes. Just as she was about to speak, voices came from the distance – palace maids were coming to look for her. The innocent princess made an “ah” sound and covered her mouth: “I must go.”
The weeping Yelü Chongzhen awakened and became the coldly smiling Timur Milik again.
Now should he kill her or not? He had to make a decision. If he pounced over and killed her with one stroke, he could still flee urgently.
Timur Milik gripped the blade handle again and said in a deep voice: “Your Highness, will you keep my secret?”
“Hmm…” The princess lowered her head and frowned, looking at the golden sparrow flowers on the ground. “To find this blade, you killed many flowers…”
The hand gripping the blade began to sweat. This ignorant woman was actually threatening him – should he kill or not? He had to decide quickly.
“How about this – let’s make a deal.” The princess seemed unaware that great disaster was approaching. She even walked toward him step by step, saying with a smile: “If you’re willing to replant the flowers, I’ll keep your secret for you. How about it?”
The Black Khitan was stunned and asked: “Just like that?” The Chinese princess smiled and nodded, repeating his words: “Just like that.”
Timur Milik hesitated for a moment. The palace maids were coming soon – he knew he couldn’t kill this woman. After repeated consideration, he finally knelt on one knee, crossed his hands before his chest, and said resolutely: “I’m willing to trust you once, Your Highness.”
Timur Milik harbored schemes as he knelt on the ground. A figure crouched down before him – it was the noble princess. Timur Milik furrowed his thick brows, not knowing what she wanted to do. Just as he was about to ask, he suddenly heard a soft call: “Chongzhen…”
For decades, since mother’s death, no one had called him by this name. Timur Milik stared blankly while gripping the dynastic precious blade, hearing that gentle tone speak comfort.
“You cannot kowtow to me. Don’t forget you are a prince of Western Liao.”
The princess’s black hair reminded him of mother’s starlike lustrous locks. The Khitan king without a country lowered his head to hide his face and finally sobbed aloud.
Chongzhen was Milik, and Milik was also Chongzhen. From that day forward, Milik and Chongzhen merged into one – they were all Black Khitan. The Western Liao king began practicing blade techniques intensively. He swallowed the grace that Yelü Dashi had left in the dynastic precious blade. Finally, with his domineering martial arts, he pressure power the Western Regions and won the title of eighth generation Sha Jin under the identity “Timur Milik.”
Yelü Chongzhen was loyal to himself, so he was also loyal to the Khanate. The noble Black Khitan needed no country because he already had the princess.
Beautiful princess, it’s been three years – a full three years since I’ve seen you. Are you well?
Passing through the long corridor to the back garden, the guards stopped their steps. The tall Black Khitan king gazed intently ahead. Before him stood over ten people, with an elderly man guarding at the front of the crowd – this was the Khanate’s elder, the wise and intelligent Abu Qihan. Timur Milik averted his gaze. He was waiting for that brilliantly radiant figure.
“Royal father, royal father…” A group of small figures surrounded him, hugging the Khan’s legs, crying and making noise. Timur Milik recognized these children – they were little princes and princesses. Though not born to the queen, they all regarded her as their birth mother.
The children lowered their heads crying, and several young concubines had red-rimmed eyes, also continuously shedding tears. Timur Milik was puzzled – under the queen’s upbringing, these women and children in the harem had always been elegant in behavior and never wept before others. Why were they crying publicly now?
He glanced toward Prime Minister Abu Qihan, who came forward and sighed quietly: “Haven’t they told you yet?”
General Milik’s heart jumped as his eyes narrowed slightly, his heart slightly on guard.
The Prime Minister sighed and said quietly: “The queen is ill – seriously ill.”
General Milik was struck as if by lightning, his whole body trembling slightly. Before he could ask, large groups of guards had already clustered around, accompanying the Khan toward the flower garden. Timur Milik came to his senses and quickly straightened up, following everyone forward.
The troubled Khan stopped and looked up toward the courtyard. Timur Milik stood slightly to the emperor’s left rear, craning his neck to look into the courtyard. When that figure entered his vision, his palms unconsciously began to sweat.
On the swing in the garden sat a gentle silhouette. She wore no silk stockings, her bare feet silently gazing toward the distant horizon. Her hair, black as the night sky, was not arranged but cascaded like a waterfall over her shoulders.
Seeing the noble and ethereal queen consort revealing her jade toes, the men in the garden seemed to avoid looking, but actually each couldn’t help secretly seeking opportunities to steal glances. They very much wanted to know whether the empress without silk stockings was still noble and outstanding, making people dare not look up.
And the result of their peeking didn’t disappoint these ministers. Those jade-white tender feet didn’t diminish her spiritual essence in the slightest. Except for making the men more bashful, the beautiful her was no different – from hair to toes, all worthy of repeated affection.
“How many days has it been?” The Khan’s voice was choked with sadness and crying sounds.
“Reporting to the Khan, since the empress had that strange dream, this is already the third day.” The Khan covered his face and sighed, holding back tears: “Three days without eating or drinking… without speaking… what do you think… should be done?” Timur Milik’s heart was concerned as he quietly interjected: “Prime Minister, what dream did the empress have?”
Abu Qihan smiled bitterly: “Look where the empress is gazing?”
The dim winter sun of afternoon shone down from the west, stretching the empress’s shadow into a fragile straight line pointing directly toward the distant east.
Timur Milik immediately understood, murmuring: “She… she dreamed of her homeland?”
The Khan sighed and shook his head, saying quietly: “She… dreamed of her father. Dreamed he was suffering.”
General Milik’s throat rolled as he stared blankly at the empress, infinite pity arising in his heart. Ten full years unable to return to her homeland must have endless homesickness. He understood this lovesickness very well. For many years, he had never married. Even when ministers and religious leaders had hinted at many marriage prospects, he still played dumb and muddled through. He naturally knew why.
Yinchuan… if possible, he wanted to leave some trace in this woman’s life, even just a little bit would be good…
But she was ill…
The Khitan king was sighing with lowered head when suddenly his shoulder was lightly patted. Timur Milik looked back and saw the Prime Minister gazing at him with a smile on his lips. Milik’s heart jumped, knowing the elder had important matters to instruct. He knelt on one knee, crossed his hands before his chest: “The loyal subject swears by Allah’s name to serve the Khan faithfully and is willing to go through fire and water.”
Abu Qihan seemed very polite. He crouched down and whispered in his ear: “General Milik, I want you to immediately gather your subordinate warriors.”
Timur Milik rose proudly – such matters required no thought. Just as he was about to step away, the Prime Minister held him back, saying with a dry laugh: “I haven’t finished speaking yet, really.” Timur Milik’s mind was muddled and confused, his face reddening involuntarily. The Prime Minister leaned over and whispered: “I want you to lead a hundred elite fighters to secretly escort the empress back to her country.”
“Secret return to country?” The eighth generation Sha Jin’s whole body shook as he drew a deep breath: “Why not inform China?”
The queen visiting relatives – what a joyous matter this was! If this journey required secret return, it couldn’t follow diplomatic customs. If something happened on the return journey – being captured or defiled by bandits – not only would the Khan lose all divine authority, but the two countries might also break into great warfare. Timur Milik was full of confusion as he gazed at the Prime Minister.
“General Milik…” The Prime Minister spat and rebuked on behalf of the sovereign: “Did you spend too long on your mission to Ottoman, or have you lost a wise man’s vision?”
Timur Milik’s heart jumped as he immediately exclaimed: “Forgive me, being away from the country so long, I forgot China’s situation.”
Everyone looked at each other, all sighing quietly. Yinchuan could never go back. Those familiar with Chinese court politics all knew she shouldn’t and couldn’t return. If the former princess rashly returned to the country, it would cause upheaval in the Chinese court and bring unpredictable military disasters to the Khanate. She couldn’t return to the country, and Chinese ministers wouldn’t allow her to return either. The Khanate was her homeland.
However, family affection couldn’t be severed. If she couldn’t return to her homeland to seek news of her birth father’s whereabouts, this benevolent and beautiful empress would wither away, and the Khanate would also lose this precious treasure.
In this dilemma, Abu Qihan leaned over and whispered: “I consulted with Religious Leader Hari, and everyone decided to let the empress return home to resolve her worries. Whether or not she can find her father, this is the only way to cure her illness.” He patted Milik’s shoulder: “The only subordinate we can trust is General Milik, who has superior martial arts and fears no death. Your Excellency must take on this heavy burden.”
Timur Milik nodded vigorously. This journey would allow him to spend day and night with the empress. Even without improper thoughts, he could see her beautiful face daily. This was the most joyful journey in the world – naturally he wouldn’t refuse.
He frowned in thought when suddenly he thought of a place, and his whole body’s hair stood on end.
Couldn’t avoid the homeward journey, couldn’t avoid that place. The convoy entering through Yumen Pass would inevitably pass through that terrifying place…
The demon realm, the moving sand lands… there lived the legendary terrible demon king. He was also a “lame one.” When his brave army surrounded them, how would the eighth generation “Sha Jin” escape with the queen?
This family visit would not only arouse China’s suspicion but also attract bandits’ covetousness. Attacked from both sides in a two-front war, there would be not only Beijing’s “Great Manager” but also the demon realm’s “Lame One.” When those fearsome heroes joined forces to attack, what tragic disasters would occur was truly unpredictable.
Abu Qihan knew his fear and said quietly: “Don’t worry – the Khanate’s 500,000 great army supports you. If something really happens, our nation’s troops will cross the desert at any time to come to your aid.” He handed the golden tablet into the general’s hands, his words encouraging: “Sha Jin, go ahead boldly – you are our only hope.”
Seeing the Khan leading his children stepping carefully toward the garden, only peeking at their beloved relative, Timur Milik bit his silver teeth, knowing the most difficult journey of his life was about to begin, and he… had absolutely no room to shirk responsibility…