The night sky over the grassland stretched vast, with a brilliant Milky Way traversing its center, studded with dazzling stars. That mysterious, profound darkness would involuntarily intoxicate anyone who gazed upon it. The more one contemplated this boundless sky and endless grassland, the more one felt one’s own insignificance.

Watching Prince Modun not far away kneeling and worshipping heaven and earth while chanting prayers, the young Minister helplessly pursed his lips. This Xiongnu prince who had taken him hostage was truly the most devout believer he had ever encountered in his life.

Perhaps because the grassland’s development lagged far behind the Central Plains, the barbarians held rather primitive understandings of natural constants like the sun and moon traversing the heavens, the four seasons alternating, life and death, wind, rain, thunder, and lightning. They didn’t understand the principle that “heaven never changes its constants, earth never alters its laws,” believing instead that everything was divinely bestowed. Thus they placed unusual importance on sacrifices—not only the three annual tribal sacrificial assemblies, but even daily worship.

Worshipping the sun at dawn, the moon at dusk, and even for trivial matters, as long as time permitted, they would give thanks to heaven’s gifts.

Initially, the young Minister held a contemptuous attitude toward such worship. His evaluation of Xiongnu sacrifices consisted of only two words: “ignorant.” For example, all wars launched by the Xiongnu actually followed traceable patterns—they even had to observe the moon the night before battle.

Truly just observing the moon, not the stars. When the moon waxed, they attacked; when it waned, they retreated. Such simple patterns, along with numerous taboos, had long been mastered by the Qin army, which was why Meng Tian drove out the Xiongnu so smoothly.

Even the First Emperor didn’t take the Xiongnu seriously. Having brought the fertile Central Plains under his control, he held little expectation for this grassland fit only for grazing. Moreover, because the grassland was too vast, lacking the resources to utterly exterminate them, after reclaiming the territories south of the river, he built the Great Wall to prevent Xiongnu cavalry from raiding southward—that sufficed.

Yet at this moment, between starry sky and grassland, the entire world felt so empty as if only the two of them remained, lonely as if forgotten by the gods. Though Modun chanted in Xiongnu language and the young Minister could only sporadically understand a few words, that wholehearted devotion flowing from every part of him couldn’t help but move him.

Deeply reverent toward heaven and earth, yet utterly fearless of life and death.

Such a person, such a people…

The young Minister pulled the wool blanket tighter around himself. Though his body could no longer feel the grassland night’s cold, an inexplicable chill arose within him.

Today was the eighth night since leaving Wale Outpost.

Modun hadn’t killed him, but instead brought him toward the chanyu’s royal court. The young Minister completely lacked understanding of grassland terrain, but could roughly judge that Modun was leading him in a winding path across the grassland.

Wang Li personally led troops in relentless pursuit behind them. During one skirmish, he could even clearly see Wang Li’s worried expression, yet Modun still relied on his familiarity with grassland terrain to shake off the pursuing troops once again.

Their horses now numbered four. Only one was the horse Modun had seized from Wale Outpost; the other three were wild horses he had lassoed and tamed on the grassland. Modun and he alternated riding to escape Qin army pursuit. Along the way they passed many grassland tribes, and even complete strangers treated Modun well. So they never lacked food or clothing throughout their journey, and Modun even traded the captured wild horses for provisions and garments.

The young Minister hadn’t stopped thinking of escape, but with his body unable to defeat even a child, let alone this grassland lone wolf Modun.

Continuing like this would only mean Wang Li penetrating deeper alone. For three days now, the young Minister had worried about Wang Li’s safety. He had long guessed Modun’s intentions—nothing more than bringing him along as a death-immunity card, keeping the Qin army trailing at a distance. Even Xiongnu cavalry intent on killing him would only flee at the sight of Qin army banners.

Ridiculous! What did Prince Modun need to pray to heaven for? He should be thanking the Qin army! This was clearly freeloading on free protection all the way to the royal court!

The more the young Minister thought about it, the more displeased he became, only able to curse his own useless body again. He extended his arm from the blanket, rolling up his sleeve, and by moonlight and starlight examined the gradually expanding corpse spots on his arm, involuntarily furrowing his brow.

Over there, Modun finished his worship and rose to walk toward his captive.

To be precise, Modun had already tacitly accepted this person as his slave. He ate little, drank less, didn’t feel the grassland night’s cold, neither cried nor made trouble, and didn’t resist—truly the best hostage.

“Han Xin, you’re really not eating?” Modun spoke in his accented Qin language, picking up some pickled mutton nearby.

The young Minister still wasn’t quite accustomed to the fake name he’d casually given, taking a moment to react before shaking his head. He didn’t want to give Modun his real name—if the other didn’t know, fine, but if he did, escape would become even more impossible.

“Eat quickly!” Modun still used his dagger to slice off a small piece of mutton and toss it over.

The young Minister looked helplessly at the small piece of mutton in his hand, still carrying sand and dirt. After struggling briefly, he still used his hand to wipe away the filth and tore it into small pieces, slowly stuffing them into his mouth.

He could barely taste the flavor anymore, only able to judge from the chewing sensation that this mutton had been pickled too long—it was too tough.

The two finished dinner in complete silence. Unlike previous days when he used words to provoke debate, Modun bent his head using his dagger to carve and craft something.

From eight days of interaction, the young Minister already knew this Prince Modun was so dexterous he didn’t seem like a prince at all, but rather a craftsman doing manual work. His ideas were also wildly imaginative—no wonder he could create strange arrows like whistling arrows.

Without Modun’s sensitive ears and terrifyingly thorough understanding of the grassland, the young Minister could still tell tonight’s Modun was unusual. After restraining himself repeatedly, he still couldn’t help speaking.

“Release me. Go by yourself.”

Modun’s hands froze, coldly spitting out a few words: “You are my slave.”

The young Minister knew Modun was reluctant to kill him, not only because of the Qin army pursuing closely behind, but also because over these eight days he had appropriately displayed his talents. Not so outstandingly that the other would capture him to the royal court at any cost, but enough that Modun wouldn’t eliminate him for the sake of hearing him expound on classics and histories. Otherwise, in this vast grassland, Modun alone could escape from the Yuezhi Kingdom—there was no reason he couldn’t shake off the Qin army unfamiliar with the terrain.

But this couldn’t continue. Seeing the time for the May sacrificial assembly approaching, if he continued bringing him along, Modun definitely wouldn’t make it back to the royal court in time. So the young Minister spoke up—by his judgment, Modun had probably already steeled his heart to kill this burden.

Seeing Modun about to deflect with excuses, the young Minister calmly said in Xiongnu language: “Actually, I can speak some Xiongnu.”

Modun’s expression immediately became awkward—didn’t that mean the other had heard everything he just prayed and confessed? Before he could make excuses, his slave smiled slightly and fluently recited: “Born of heaven and earth, placed by sun and moon…”

“Sleep!” Modun abruptly interrupted, roughly grabbing the other wool blanket nearby and rolling his slave into his embrace, not forgetting to complain: “Why are you so cold? If not for me taking care of you, you’d probably be dead already.”

Confined by two arms like iron hoops, the young Minister sighed helplessly. His body temperature had long been much colder than normal people’s. These days they had always rested like this, precisely because Modun feared he’d slip away while he slept deeply. Moreover, pillowing directly on the earth, if there were horse hooves in the distance, they could hear them well in advance.

Actually, he couldn’t really understand Xiongnu language either, just simply using his powerful memory to repeat the other’s words. But understanding sporadic words, combined with Modun’s unusual emotions tonight, made it simple to analyze his thoughts. Listening to the gradually steady breathing beside him, a bitter smile appeared on the young Minister’s face. He hadn’t stopped thinking of killing the other while he slept, but after several such attempts, he discovered that no matter how deeply Modun seemed to sleep, the slightest movement would wake him the next instant, without exception.

Though he didn’t need rest, physical fatigue still existed. The young Minister gazed at the brilliant starry sky, back against the solid earth, and his anxious heart unexpectedly calmed quickly. Rarely, his mind went completely blank, no longer thinking of his predicament, and he slowly closed his eyes.

When the young Minister opened his eyes again, he discovered himself bound to a long pole, one end deeply inserted into the ground. No matter how he struggled, it didn’t budge at all. His mouth was also gagged with cloth, and night was deep—the darkest moment before dawn.

He could vaguely see directly ahead a figure fiddling with something, occasionally hearing the sound of bowstring adjustments.

“Awake?” Modun’s voice came, somewhat unclear in the wind.

“Han Xin, I cannot bring you back to the royal court, nor can I bring myself to kill you.

“So, I’ll leave it to heaven to decide.

“This is a simple mechanism I made. Half a quarter-hour remains until sunrise. When the first ray of sunlight rises, this stone will drop to the ground, this crossbow will automatically pull the trigger, and this whistling arrow will pierce through your chest.

“I hope before dawn, the Qin army finds this place.

“This is a bone whistling arrow made from a wolf’s jawbone—its sound is finest, suitable for seeing you off.

“May the dragon god protect you.”

Having finished speaking decisively, Modun led four horses and turned to leave without looking back.

Life and death, to him, were merely choices of left or right. Xiongnu people never feared life and death, whether others’ or their own.

And with this exceptional slave, Modun decided to conduct an interesting experiment.

He knew this slave’s identity must be quite extraordinary—otherwise the pursuing Qin troops wouldn’t chase relentlessly, with pursuers even increasing in number. By his calculation, around daybreak, those Qin troops should reach this vicinity.

So he truly anticipated the scene when that bone whistling arrow sounded, the Qin army heard and came seeking, only to find a corpse.

Even just imagining it, Modun felt blood boiling, wishing he could stay on scene to witness it personally.

The first ray of sunlight finally projected from the horizon. Modun excitedly narrowed his eyes, spurring his horse to gallop across the boundless grassland.

A shrill whistling sound came from behind him, like the horn of divine spirits descending to this place.

The jade disc at his chest grew faintly warm, warming his cold body, as if a corpse that had already died was returning to the mortal world because of this bit of warmth.

“Bi Zhi… Bi Zhi!”

The young Minister weakly opened his eyes, just in time to see Fu Su’s anxious face. He had never seen His Highness so disheveled—in just a few days unseen, he’d lost considerable weight, his topknot somewhat messy, dark circles under his eyes, several dirty marks on his face. He hadn’t imagined that for him, Crown Prince Fu Su could penetrate deep into the grassland, clearly rushing directly from Shangjun upon receiving the military report of his incident.

“A’luo! You’re actually injured!” Wang Li beside him jumped anxiously, loudly calling personal guards to summon the military physician, then repeatedly ordering troops to pursue Prince Modun who obviously hadn’t gone far.

“It’s nothing, just a scrape on my arm.” The young Minister came to his senses, examining his body. He had now been rescued from the pole by Fu Su. Fortunately, Modun had used his crossbow with the adjusted sight—he only needed to calculate the range slightly and shift his body to avoid vital areas.

Also fortunate that during these days Modun feared the bone whistling arrow’s sound would expose their trail and never used it, thus not discovering this problem.

Fu Su examined his tutor’s body thoroughly, and finding no blood elsewhere, finally relaxed his expression without concealment. While helping the other stand, he ordered: “Wang Li, don’t pursue a desperate enemy.”

“But we’re about to catch him!” Wang Li protested unwillingly. Deep down he also knew that without A’luo as a burden, Modun on the grassland was like a dragon entering the vast sea—they’d never find a trace of him again. Moreover, with Crown Prince Fu Su personally present in his army, they had already taken enormous risk. If they encountered Xiongnu cavalry, the consequences would be unthinkable.

“He’s merely an unvalued Xiongnu prince. Capturing him would be best, but if we let him return, the Xiongnu will surely produce internal strife over succession of the next chanyu, with no time to look southward.” Fu Su said calmly, though the hand gripping his tutor’s wrist unconsciously tightened, applying force. “Moreover, we took this opportunity to map all the routes we traveled—quite a bountiful harvest.”

“One day, I will raze the Xiongnu royal court.”

The sun finally rose above the horizon. Crown Prince Fu Su in full military dress seemed bathed entirely in golden light. His training in the army had long shed his former refined and cultured mask, finally revealing some forceful dominance.

The young Minister stared transfixed at the monarch he had chosen, lips moving but saying nothing.

This was his light, so he would be his shadow.

Sunlight cannot illuminate every corner of the earth. What his light cannot do, then let him as shadow complete it in his stead.