After Mili came to power, he immediately convened the kings of all thirty-two tribes of the Eastern Di and held a ceremony of sacrifice to heaven.

At the ceremony, the white wolf — revered by the Di people as a sacred totem — appeared in the west. The shaman divined: the west bodes greatly auspicious. Every tribe erupted in fervor, their will to fight renewed. They took this as a heavenly omen: if they were to annex the Western Di, national fortune would flourish once more.

Everything was proceeding according to Mili’s designs.

He was a man who loved battle, but was by no means purely reckless. Although on the night he killed the Shuang Khan he had mockingly derided him before all as incompetent, in his heart he understood clearly that even if he himself were to fight another battle like that one, the result might not be much better than the Shuang Khan had achieved.

But he had just taken the throne as Khan and urgently needed a victory to consolidate his position. And gaining spoils of war to make up for the losses of the last campaign — this was also the condition and expectation of the thirty-two tribes in supporting his rise to power.

He had to fight a battle.

He set his sights on the Western Di.

From that night several years earlier when he had fled Yinyue City in panic, winning it back had become the greatest dream that never left his mind, day or night.

Attacking Yinyue City, annexing the Western Di that was now completely under the control of Princess Imperial Jinxi — not only would this wash away his earlier disgrace, but this battle was also the one he now felt most certain of winning.

On the Western Di side, the main forces had just completed their role in relieving the siege of He Xi and returned home after a long journey — they were a weary army.

On his own side, in addition to commanding a force of a hundred thousand troops freshly assembled from all thirty-two tribes, he also had the allied forces of Wuli and Kangju to fight alongside him. These two nations were close neighbors of the Western Di, and had long-standing grievances with them. For this battle, not only had they pledged to mobilize every soldier they could deploy, but the King of Wuli would personally lead his troops in person, to add momentum with his presence.

He also analyzed the possible responses the Li dynasty might make.

The Western Di was under such a massive assault — Li Xuandu would naturally not stand by and do nothing. But the Li dynasty had just finished that long, drawn-out campaign both internal and external. Its soldiers and officers were exhausted and its treasury empty. At this moment, supporting another major army deployment, traveling ten thousand li over mountains and rivers all the way through Xiyu to reach the Western Di in aid — this was simply not realistic.

In the short term, the most likely response from Li Xuandu would be to use the Xiyu military forces as his main strength to provide aid to the Western Di.

So in this battle, as long as they could achieve a swift decisive victory, their side’s advantage was very great.

Besides, he still had a trump card in his hand.

For the sake of this battle of vengeance — and of establishing his might — he had been making secret preparations for a long time, and now could barely contain his impatience.

The moment the ceremony of sacrifice to heaven was concluded, Mili immediately commanded his troops to wheel about westward, driving straight for the Western Di.

Li Xuandu received the intelligence and, at the first possible moment, joined up with Jiang Yi and decisively dispatched troops to aid in the defense.

But this battle, considering all factors, turned out exactly as Mili had predicted: the forces participating, apart from a portion of He Xi soldiers, were composed mainly of the combined forces of the Xiyu kingdoms.

The army hurried westward, and one day, as they drew near to the Western Di, the intelligence reports they received showed the situation was already extremely unfavorable.

Kangju was in the west, Wuli in the east, and the Eastern Di forces in the north — altogether more than ten thousand troops in total — launching simultaneous large-scale attacks on the Western Di from three directions at once.

The Western Di army led by Shan Yang had just returned to their homeland and had not yet finished resting when they were struck by an attack of unprecedented scale. The situation became tense immediately. Jinxi urgently summoned the Left Virtuous King Sanggan and other tribes to come to her aid. The Que warriors who had earlier migrated back to their homeland also joined the fighting to resist together, but the two sides’ strength was still vastly imbalanced. Encircled on three fronts, the battlefield kept shrinking, and Yinyue City was in acute danger.

When the relief army arrived, they were blocked several hundred li from Yinyue City.

To the north lay the Eastern Di’s great army encampment — the most distant route, not to be taken. Straight ahead was Wuli territory.

To provide aid to the city as quickly as possible, there were now only two paths. One was to break through into Wuli and pass directly through its territory. The other was to circle south, and reach the western side of Yinyue City.

Li Xuandu and Jiang Yi quickly settled on their battle plan. They would divide into two columns — one led by Jiang Yi, to sweep around and strike the Kangju forces; the other led by Li Xuandu, to take the route through Wuli. Once settled, both sides immediately acted.

Li Xuandu led his forces into Wuli. In the first two days, they advanced rapidly at a pace of sixty to seventy li per day, marching toward Yinyue City. Two days later, the Wuli army moved in full force and launched ambushes along the route. Mili, on learning of this, immediately also mobilized a great mass of men from the northern route with maximum speed, linking up with the Wuli army.

Ten days later, after several probing engagements, both sides assembled on the open plains near the border between Wuli and Western Di, at the foot of Zhuo Yin Mountain.

Li Xuandu set up his command tent on a slope at the foot of the mountain, raised a conspicuous great banner, and personally held the position, directing the overall battle on the plains below.

The fighting went on intermittently for three days. The one commanding the battle on the opposite side was Mili’s wife’s brother, the Fuqu Wang, and the King of Wuli. Mili himself had not shown himself.

On the fourth day, when both sides met in direct confrontation again, Ye Xiao led one column of cavalry and Zhang Shishan with a general from the Bole Kingdom led another, the two cavalry forces thrusting in from the left and right flanks respectively. In a single charge, they split apart the Eastern Di and Wuli combined forces, and then surrounded them, annihilating each in turn.

The battle that had been locked in stalemate for days finally began to shift.

Just as the situation on the battlefield was gradually turning favorable — the Eastern Di and Wuli armies were caught in the encirclement and beginning to show signs of collapse — suddenly, from the direction of the slopes opposite, came a strange sound.

The sound was like a muffled roll of thunder, rolling across the ground. It was as though some giant like the mythical Kuafu were walking toward them, his footsteps causing even the earth to tremble faintly.

On the plains, those who were fighting instinctively slowed and came to a stop, looking toward the sound.

A unit of heavy armored cavalry — numbering at least three thousand — appeared on the horizon, arrayed in orderly formation. Like a surging black tide, they moved from the horizon toward this side.

Heavy armored cavalry was not entirely unknown, but this particular unit was unlike anything any of the soldiers present had ever seen before. Not only were the riders themselves clad from head to foot in iron armor, but even the horses, starting from their heads and faces, were draped and fitted with iron chain mail all over their bodies.

The sunlight overhead was blindingly bright. This massive column of heavy cavalry was like a great moving iron shield — or like an iron beast, its gaping maw lined with fangs, advancing toward the enemy’s position.

Even battle-hardened veterans involuntarily felt their pupils contract the moment this force appeared, and expressions of hesitation showed on their faces.

And in stark contrast to this, among the Eastern Di and Wuli soldiers who had previously been fighting hard, a deafening, near-frenzied roar erupted. They screamed the Khan’s name at the top of their voices.

Mili, who had not shown himself for several days, was there in the midst of this heavy cavalry — surrounded by them like the moon surrounded by stars — riding on horseback, driving directly forward.

The nearest unit to him, Zhang Shishan’s force and the Bole Kingdom general’s division — a combined force of two thousand mixed cavalry and more than three thousand infantry — was like a stream struck by a massive flood. Very quickly, the nearly one thousand vanguard troops were swallowed up by this iron-armored force and then mercilessly ground apart.

This was Mili’s trump card.

A unit of heavy armored cavalry that he had spent years of dedicated effort and his entire financial resources to forge.

Invincible! Terrifying beyond all measure!

That momentum that seemed capable of consuming everything — that was the most fearsome power on any battlefield.

Zhang Shishan was the commander of this detachment.

He saw the terror on his soldiers’ faces and knew the morale had been shaken. To keep pressing against this force would likely only be throwing lives away pointlessly.

He immediately turned his head, looking toward the great banner in the distance. Sure enough, he saw flag signals, and immediately gave the order to sound the retreat.

The cavalry and infantry rapidly pulled back.

After him, Ye Xiao in the main formation immediately sent out archers and crossbowmen, hoping to use an arrow barrage to block the advance.

With a single command, ten thousand arrows were loosed together. But after the arrow volley, the enemy had barely taken any damage, and still rolled forward — the yellow dust they raised seemed almost to blot out the sky and cover the sun.

Even Ye Xiao, seeing this, could not help feeling a chill.

Against such a formation of heavy cavalry, what method could break through it? In that moment, no solution came to him.

In the enemy cavalry formation, Mili was supremely pleased. Speaking in the Han language he had learned before battle, he laughed wildly and loud: “Li Xuandu, and you — all you Han people — look clearly! I am going to kill every last one of you right here! No one goes back alive! Bodies cleaved from heads! Trampled into the mud!” As he said this,

he shouted a command and rode forward to the front, ordering those on either side to hoist up two enemy soldiers who had just been gravely wounded and had not yet quite died. He took hold of them himself, one in each hand, let out a furious roar, and smashed their heads together.

The skulls of the two soldiers shattered, their brains splattered, and then he flung them away. They fell crashing to the ground.

The armored cavalry kept moving forward. The bodies on the ground were trampled repeatedly by the horses in their iron chain mail — the sight was too horrible to behold.

Zhang Shishan and Ye Xiao both had bloodshot eyes. Both strung their bows and fired arrows at Mili. The two arrows came in succession, one after the other.

One shot at Mili’s chest, the other at his face. But the arrow tips could not penetrate the iron armor and in the end fell to the ground.

Mili grew only more pleased, spurring on his flanks, pressing the pursuit against the Li dynasty soldiers in the forward position who were wounded and had not yet managed to retreat.

Zhang Shishan and his men could only rush forward to attempt a rescue, running into the opposing side’s returning arrow fire, and risking themselves to finally snatch back those few dozen men who were still alive — since the enemy was still some distance off.

After the last injured soldier was dragged back to safety, he turned his head and saw his deputy officer Qin Xiaohu had been struck by an arrow in the knee and had fallen to the ground.

He swiftly scrambled upright and continued to run toward them with a lurching limp. But very quickly he was targeted by Mili behind him, who sent another arrow his way.

As though to humiliate him further, Mili did not shoot at the lethal spot on his back. He shot his other leg. The arrow struck.

Qin Xiaohu could no longer maintain his balance and fell face-first onto the ground.

Mili was only a single arrow’s distance from him now.

At that distance, it would take only a moment to gallop over on horseback.

Yet even so, he still bit down hard on his teeth and kept crawling painfully forward.

More than ten years before, when Zhang Shishan had been sent to Wulei as an advance scout to establish the Protectorate, Qin Xiaohu had already been at his side.

At that time, Qin Xiaohu had been just a boy.

Ten-odd years had gone by in a flash. That once-scrawny youth, having narrowly escaped the Wulei massacre with him, had hidden in the mountain valleys and survived, and been honed into a courageous warrior.

He knew that Qin Xiaohu’s home, in the countryside near the capital, still had his elderly grandparents waiting for him to come back.

After the He Xi campaign ended, Prince Qin and the Princess Consort had specially permitted Qin Xiaohu to end his service early and return to his home village. At the time he had been overjoyed and said farewell with envious well-wishes from his old comrades, and was about to depart when this new campaign broke out.

It was on the very eve of the departure that he returned to the ranks himself, saying he could not bear to part from his old comrades in arms like this.

He wanted to fight this last battle with them. When they won, then he would go home.

Watching Mili drawing closer and closer — close enough that it seemed he could see the savage and triumphant gleam in the eyes exposed behind Mili’s iron visor — Zhang Shishan let out a great shout. Without thinking, he turned on his heel and sprinted straight toward Qin Xiaohu.

A sudden torrential barrage of arrows from the opposite side flew at him.

He had no shield, no way to protect himself through the arrow storm. Halfway there, he was forced to stop, unable to advance another step, and could only throw himself flat on the ground, watching helplessly as Mili was about to gallop up behind Qin Xiaohu.

His eyes were wide open, his liver and guts seeming ready to burst — when suddenly, with a whistling hiss, a sharp arrow came from the side, shooting directly at one of Mili’s eyes, exposed outside the visor.

Mili ducked down to dodge it.

Immediately, a second arrow followed.

This one aimed straight at the eyes of the horse he was riding.

Mili had been dodging the first arrow and had not yet straightened back up; he had not yet reacted when the arrow pierced the horse’s eye, passed through its skull, and emerged from its neck.

His mount reared wildly and toppled over. He was thrown to the ground as well. It looked as though the falling horse was about to pin him under it; he slapped the ground hard with one hand, and wearing his heavy iron armor though it was, with a motion that looked clumsy yet somehow managed it, he rolled to the side and escaped the falling horse.

Both sides of men were shaken by this sudden turn of events — even the arrows stopped flying, not yet fully recovered — when they saw a swift horse flash like lightning to Qin Xiaohu’s side. The rider bent low in the saddle, hauled Qin Xiaohu up, draped him across the horse’s back, and immediately turned and galloped back.

The entire sequence, from firing those two arrows to the daring rescue, had taken no more than a few blinks of an eye, one fluid motion from start to finish.

The man who saved Qin Xiaohu was Cui Xuan.

Zhang Shishan had been in Xiyu for many years and was not well acquainted with this young commander. He knew only that in recent years Cui Xuan had made a name for himself at court. This time, he had arrived at the last moment together with Han Rongchang, bringing two thousand soldiers — all survivors of the northern frontier campaign who had volunteered for duty, wishing to serve under Prince Qin’s command.

In all these days of fighting, Zhang Shishan had noticed that this Cui Xuan seemed somewhat cold and reserved, a person who did not appear easy to get along with. It was completely beyond his imagination that today, at such a critical moment, he would disregard the danger and personally come forward to save one of his men. Zhang Shishan was filled with deep gratitude.

The other man, though very young, was far above him in rank and status — and on top of that had just saved Qin Xiaohu’s life in battle. Zhang Shishan immediately dropped to one knee before him in a gesture of thanks, but Cui Xuan raised a hand and pulled him up, telling him there was no need for such courtesy.

He turned his head and looked toward Mili.

Mili had already been steadied on his feet with the support of the retinue who had caught up to him, found a new horse, and mounted up.

Even if his expression beneath the visor could not be seen, from his body language it was clearly one of explosive fury.

He led his troops in continuing to drive the assault toward their position here.

Out in the open field, the muffled thunder that had paused just moments before roared out again, and yellow dust billowed again on the wind, blurring everyone’s eyes.

Through that wall of churning yellow dust, Mili led those heavy armored cavalry who had made every man’s color change at first sight, continuing to drive forward without the slightest hesitation. They swept past Cui Xuan’s detachment, Zhang Shishan’s detachment, and Ye Xiao’s detachment in the forward formation, driving straight toward the spot where the great banner stood.

He made no secret of his objective: to cut down Li Xuandu!

Li Xuandu wore a battle helmet on his head and bright armor on his body, and from the very start of this great battle had stood beneath the great banner. Around him were no more than a few dozen bodyguards.

He had been watching from his elevated vantage point, commanding the battlefield below, watching each scene unfold before his eyes in turn — his expression calm.

The opposing Mili, and the army behind him that seemed capable of shaking mountains, had already crossed through one defensive position after another, and was drawing closer and closer to this side.

Less than a hundred feet remained!

This force was still rolling forward!

Fifty feet!

Forty feet!

They were almost upon them!

Like a towering wave, it had already rolled to eye level — and in the next instant, it would consume and engulf everything!

Those beside Li Xuandu, without exception, gradually began to grow tense. Luo Bao, sent by the Princess Consort to attend and guard Prince Qin on this occasion, also stood beneath the great banner at this moment. He gripped the flagpole tightly with both hands, his fingers going stiff, his legs quietly trembling. He wanted to urge Prince Qin to step aside for a moment, but seeing him standing there, face utterly unmoved, staring steadily ahead, not even blinking once — he bit down hard, and in the end stood his chest up straight, steeled himself, and decided to stand together with Prince Qin and meet whatever great shock was coming from the opposite side.

He also had a premonition: Prince Qin would certainly make a move.

Sure enough — in the very next moment, as Mili led his forces charging to the foot of the slope, with no more than twenty or thirty feet remaining, he felt a flash before his eyes as Prince Qin suddenly sprinted down the slope, flipped up onto a warhorse waiting at the bottom, and charged headlong at the enemy.

At this distance, bows and arrows had completely lost all power.

He galloped on light horseback, driving toward that heavy armored cavalry, straight toward Mili.

Mili was clearly taken aback for a moment, but quickly made ready to meet Li Xuandu in single combat.

His eyes blazed with excitement beyond all limit. He raised high the pair of wolf-tooth clubs in his hand.

He would kill, before ten thousand armies and countless watching eyes, this man who had kept untold Eastern Di warriors locked outside the Yumen Pass and the northern border rivers — defending his name as the number one warrior of the Di nation, and proving that he was fit to hold the throne of Great Khan today!

Just as the two horses drew ever closer, nearly crossing each other — Li Xuandu suddenly bent at the waist. Reaching to the side of the horse’s belly with one hand, when his hand came back, there was a long saber in his grip.

The two horses were about to pass each other by.

Mili raised the wolf-tooth clubs, gave a furious roar, and with every ounce of his strength, brought them crashing down at Li Xuandu opposite him.

A flash of cold light — then the horse beneath him suddenly sank lower by a full measure and let out a cry. The mount toppled over, and Mili was carried by the enormous inertia, rolling right off the horse’s back.

Li Xuandu’s long saber had severed the horse’s legs. These were the only unprotected spot on the warhorses in the iron armor formation.

Almost at the same moment, from behind the slope where the great banner stood, a burst of battle cries rang out. Luo Bao turned to look and saw Han Rongchang and Zhang Zhuo leading a light cavalry unit of approximately a thousand men, charging out from the two flanks at the foot of the slope, riding alongside Prince Qin, and driving straight into the iron armor formation.

Every person held a long saber in hand, chopping at horse legs.

Like a blade splitting dark waves open, cutting through to forge a path after path.

Just a moment before, the iron armor formation that had bristled with such impregnability and inspired such dread — was instantly carved apart into scattered fragments.

“Cut them down! Cut them down well!”

Luo Bao, on the slope above, could not contain himself. He pumped his fist, leapt for joy, and roared at the top of his lungs.

Behind the iron armor formation, Cui Xuan and the others understood at once. All those with sabers in hand came running forward, following the example and hacking at horse legs.

The armored cavalry, and their new Great Khan Mili, were completely unprepared for this development.

As their mounts fell, the riders fell with them.

The full battle gear upon them — when they were mounted, it had been the weapon that gave them wings and made them impervious to blade and spear. But the moment they lost the support and burden-sharing of the horse, this weapon became a shackle that bound them, making movement almost impossible.

Many of the Eastern Di cavalry could not even rise to their feet before their legs were hacked off. They clutched their stumps and howled in agony on the ground.

Blood was everywhere. In this brutal close-quarters slaughter, every person’s eyes had turned crimson. There was only one thought: kill, kill, kill!

After Mili fell from his horse, he was shielded by a detachment of guards who gave their lives to protect him. He wanted to remove his armor, but where could he shed that heavy iron plate in a moment? Watching Li Xuandu swinging his saber, cutting off the legs of several of his guards in succession, then wheeling his horse around and riding straight at him, Mili’s face went pale with shock. He grabbed a guard from nearby, wrenched him off his horse, and with the help of several others, pulled himself up and into the saddle. Carrying his guards with him, he turned and fled with total disregard for all else in the direction from which he had come.

Li Xuandu held his bloody saber in hand, watching Mili gallop away at full speed. He let him go and did not give chase.