The iron boots stepped in.

Finally stopping before Muzhaer.

The newcomer looked down at him from above, twirling a blood-stained dagger in his hand. Fresh blood slid drop by drop from the blade’s tip to the ground, with several drops falling onto the tiger skin and Muzhaer’s face.

The blood was still warm!

It stuck to his face, viscous and lingering.

Muzhaer didn’t even blink.

The visitor’s slender, articulated fingers gently wiped the bright red blood on the blade’s edge, rubbing his blood-stained fingertips together before placing them in his mouth, licking them with his tongue. The bloody taste permeated his mouth and tongue like opium, stimulating this person’s nerves, making him increasingly excited.

Almost perverse!

“Muzhaer, you never expected this, did you.”

His voice was deep, his tone flippant.

Muzhaer slowly raised his head. What met his eyes was Alasan’s face—handsome and cold, yet utterly savage.

This was completely different from the refined-looking person he usually was. At this moment, Alasan’s eyes were bone-chillingly cold, tempered with murderous hatred.

That hatred ran deep into his bones.

“In the end… there’s still hate in your heart.” Muzhaer sighed.

“And that’s all thanks to you!” Alasan laughed cruelly.

He suddenly flung the dagger in his hand, plunging it into the blood-spattered map.

Landing precisely in the very center of the map!

Muzhaer’s gaze flickered slightly as the blade’s silver gleam flashed on his forehead. Alasan paced two steps, his lips curling as he said, “Muzhaer, my father once told me that the person on this grassland who least wanted war was you, the person who least wanted blood spilled on the grassland was also you, but… the most ruthless person was also you! I didn’t understand then, but later I understood.”

“…”

“My father risked his life for you all those years. To save those few herdsmen, he was shot to death by a volley of arrows from the Barlhu tribe’s people. But what about you? For the sake of tribal peace, you refused to avenge my father. Muzhaer, oh Muzhaer, in vain did my father willingly risk his life to remain loyal to you for his entire life, but how did you repay him? You sent him to his death. You caused his death!”

Furious accusations.

Emotional agitation.

Muzhaer listened with moistening eyes.

The death of Alasan’s father had always been an unresolvable knot in his heart. He felt deeply guilty about it.

After all, Alasan’s father Chalan had risked life and death alongside him for many years. He was his brother, his right-hand man.

Seeing the tears welling in Muzhaer’s eyes, Alasan’s anger intensified.

“Muzhaer, four years—I’ve endured for four years. Today I finally have this opportunity. I will use your head and your blood to make offerings to my father.”

He wished he could drink his blood and eat his flesh.

Muzhaer looked at the dagger embedded in the map and pulled it out. The dagger was carved with a lifelike tiger with eight claws. Running his hand over it, he could feel the raised contours—very exquisite. But due to years of handling, it had been worn smooth. He said, “I gave this dagger to your father. I never imagined that today, his son would use this dagger to kill me.”

“You owe my father a life!”

“Yes, I do owe your father a life. Back when we risked our lives together, conquering the grassland, he took many blades for me. My life was also rescued by him from enemy hands. When he was shot to death with arrows, I was deeply grieved too, even wishing I could have taken those arrows for him.”

Alasan sneered coldly. “If you truly felt you owed him, you should have led troops to avenge my father, destroyed the Barlhu tribe, instead of constantly talking about peace.”

“Because destroying the entire Barlhu tribe—do you know what that would mean?” Muzhaer set down the dagger in his hand, slowly stood up, and looked at Alasan. “Barlhu is the earliest established tribe on this grassland. Though they’ve gradually declined, their chieftain Kehaiduo is the most respected person across the entire Western Sai grassland. This grassland was conquered by his ancestors. Without the Kehai clan, there would be no Houliao today. The ones who killed your father were his subordinates, not the entire Barlhu tribe.”

“Shut up!”

“Alasan, it’s still not too late for you to stop now.” Muzhaer urged.

Alasan had completely lost his reason. His heart held only hatred, only revenge. His brows were sharp as blades. “Muzhaer, I’m afraid you’re not qualified to say such things! Don’t forget, you’ve already sent Geta and the others with troops to encircle Yuedan. The remaining garrison troops have all been killed by me. Outside right now are all my men. No one can come save you! I will avenge my father and kill you. Once you’re dead, Houliao will be mine.”

“Is this the deal you made with Huhehaote? Joining forces with him to kill me?”

“Exactly. Once I take control of Houliao, I’ll agree to help Huhehaote raise troops to attack the Central Plains and unite the world with him.”

Desire, power, status…

They truly can drive people mad.

Muzhaer sighed and shook his head. “When your father was dying, he sent word to me, asking me to look after you well and absolutely not let you go astray. I thought he was overthinking, but as they say, a father knows his son best. What you’re doing today—he had foreseen it all along.”

“Shut up!”

“Alasan, do you know what kind of person Huhehaote is? He’s wildly ambitious, his heart set only on slaughter. His eyes cannot tolerate two tigers—how could he spare you? Invading the Central Plains—do you think it’s simple? The border troops of Da Lin alone would keep you fighting for years, even decades. By then, not only Yuedan but the entire Western Sai grassland will be uprooted by Da Lin, leaving you not an inch of land. Alasan, you need to wake up. Huhehaote devours people without spitting out their bones. He will take your life.”

“…”

Alasan’s eyes narrowed tightly, his fists clenched.

“I’ll give you one chance. If you stop now, I’ll let you go.”

But—

Alasan showed not the slightest hesitation. His eyes were bloodshot. The next moment, he grabbed the dagger from the table, aimed it at Muzhaer, baring his teeth like a hungry wolf, and said viciously, “I’m the one giving you a chance. Will you end it yourself? Or shall I send you on your way?”

He was about to thrust the dagger forward.

Suddenly—

A chaotic sound of footsteps came from inside the tent.

A group of people rushed in quickly.

They immediately surrounded Alasan.

Just as he was distracted, Muzhaer seized his wrist and struck it forcefully.

His tendons and bones ached, and his hand opened.

The dagger fell to the ground.

Before he could react, several soldiers immediately restrained him, pinning him firmly to the ground.

His knees were on the ground, his hands pressed behind his back, his body bent forward. Before him on the ground lay the dagger that had fallen from his hand, just like him at this moment—no matter how sharp the blade, ultimately unable to escape the fate of being trampled and defeated.

He clenched his teeth tightly, his face contorted, unwilling to admit defeat.

His shoulders struggled desperately as he shouted, “Let go of me, let go!”

Despite all this, he remained unable to move, held fast in their grip.