Tang Pidi’s “get lost” brought the entire Nalan contingent to instant fury. Curved blades swept out, leveled in his direction.

Yet the young man at their head — his expression underwent a subtle shift. He pressed his hand down, signaling his men to stand down.

He addressed Tang Pidi in the steppe tongue. “How do you know our language? That knife is the mark of a thousand-commander. If you cannot explain yourself, today’s matter will not end easily.”

Tang Pidi gave no answer. Instead, he unhooked the small steppe knife from his belt and tossed it across.

The horseman caught it in one hand and examined the sheath carefully. Carved into the sheath was a line of steppe script. When he finished reading, he was silent for a moment — then tossed the knife back.

He placed his right hand over his chest and bowed.

“So you are the Tang Pidi of the outer steppe — the undefeated war-blade.”

Li Chi had asked Tang Pidi the meaning of many steppe words over the years. When he heard the word *batur*, he understood: the man had just said “hero Tang Pidi.”

Tang Pidi gave a brief nod.

The horseman straightened and continued in the steppe tongue: “I am Borijitai, a hundred-commander of the Nalan clan. I have heard the stories told of you — every last one of them. The people of the outer steppe say you are a hero who has never been defeated, that you are the sharpest war-blade in existence. I respect you greatly — and so I challenge you.”

Tang Pidi walked toward the grassland’s edge. Li Chi called out his name. Tang Pidi shook his head, signaling there was nothing to worry about.

Borijitai swung down from his horse as Tang Pidi approached. He stepped forward, bowed again — and Tang Pidi returned the greeting in the manner of the steppe.

“I invite your instruction.”

With that, Borijitai lunged — one hand shooting for Tang Pidi’s shoulder, the other reaching for his belt.

Tang Pidi pulled his shoulder back, then surged forward — a sharp collision with his shoulder that drove Borijitai’s left hand open. The impact was such that Borijitai’s five fingers felt as if they had all snapped at once.

The shock of pain gave Tang Pidi his opening. His hand closed around Borijitai’s belt, and he threw him — a back-body drop that sent him skidding through the air.

Borijitai rolled immediately to his feet and looked down at his left hand. The pain was severe enough that attempting to form a fist was an effort. But steppe fighters do not yield easily. He let out a roar and charged again.

A breath later, Borijitai was thrown again. He had barely risen when Tang Pidi stepped in — one arm seized his collar, pulled him close, a sweep of the leg — and Borijitai went down a third time.

This time when he rose, he did not charge. He stepped back two paces and gave a deep bow.

“Truly worthy of the undefeated Tang Pidi. I accept my defeat.”

He drew his curved blade, held it out with both hands — a challenger’s tribute to the one challenged.

Tang Pidi accepted it, drew it cleanly from its sheath. In the last sliver of evening light, the blade caught a pale golden gleam.

Then he placed it back in Borijitai’s hands. “I don’t need your war-blade. I need a friend.”

He clapped Borijitai on the shoulder. “From this day forward, you are my friend. If you ever need my help, send word to Jizhou city — Tang Pidi will ride to you.”

Borijitai blinked — then pressed his right fist to his chest and bowed again.

This young Nalan hundred-commander felt at that moment a depth of respect for Tang Pidi — who was younger still — that words could barely contain.

When Tang Pidi returned, Li Chi told him he had thought he knew quite a few words of the steppe tongue, but when the steppe people spoke at speed, he had failed to catch a single sentence.

“Did he concede? I saw him try to give you his blade.”

Tang Pidi explained: “On the steppe, there are many kinds of contest — for instance, the annual festival gathering, which you might understand as a great martial tournament of sorts, something like that. Those kinds of contests are more in the spirit of grand, joyful competition.”

He continued: “But when someone of lower standing challenges someone of higher standing, winning brings lasting honor; losing means becoming that person’s slave. Before I left the outer steppe I already held the rank of thousand-commander. He was a hundred-commander. Had he won, I would have bowed to him in respect. Since he lost, he would have become my slave.”

Li Chi considered this, puzzled. “If he won, you’d only bow to him — but if he lost, he becomes your slave?”

Tang Pidi nodded. “That’s the rule.”

“I had assumed,” Li Chi said, “that if he won, you would have to marry him.”

Tang Pidi: “…”

He laughed. “I could pass that obligation on to someone else.”

Li Chi grinned. “Send Ninth Sister over. Let her wreak havoc on the brave men of the Nalan.”

“I suspect,” Tang Pidi said, “they’d be begging to send her back before long.”

“Absolutely not,” Li Chi said. “A daughter married off is water poured out — once given, there’s no taking back. All sales are final.”

Yu Jiuling stood nearby, sighing. “I’m still right here, you two. Could you be even slightly less blatant about this?”

In the distance, Borijitai led his cavalry in a thundering departure. It had to be said — a steppe rider’s command of the horse was something beyond anything seen in the Central Plains. For them, the horse was simply an extension of their legs.

—

Nalan Grasslands.

Inside the great golden-topped tent, the Nalan chieftain Eridun Bari looked sideways at his guest and offered a composed smile. “I understand the Great Khan’s meaning. I will give it careful thought.”

The man beside him appeared to be in his mid-thirties — massively built, with a full beard and eyes that carried a natural, unsettling menace. He had come from the outer steppe as an envoy of the Tiehe tribe — his name was Zhachaleng — a warrior of considerable repute among the Tiehe.

Zhachaleng heard the evasion in the chieftain’s response and smiled. “Nalan Khan, the Great Khan’s sincerity is before you. All he asks is that you send troops to assist, and on the day Jizhou falls, the Great Khan will grant you half its territory — as well as the highest honor.”

He paused before continuing. “The Chu people can no longer hold their Central Plains domain. The Great Khan says: such fertile and prosperous lands belong only to the most valiant of peoples. The Tiehe have already secured the allegiance of the Geqin and the Fulu tribes. If the Nalan Khan hesitates, he may find himself left behind by the advance.”

The implication was plain: hesitate, and the Nalan would be abandoned — and the abandoned stand with the Chu people, to be enslaved in the end.

Eridun Bari smiled. “The Nalan have lived here for generations, and we have always held to our agreement with the Chu people — they do not encroach upon us, we do not encroach upon them. Steppe folk do not break their word lightly. To do so would invite contempt.”

“But I cannot dismiss the Great Khan’s sincerity either. So I require some time to consider the matter. If the envoy is willing to remain a few days, I will give you an answer as quickly as I can.”

Zhachaleng sneered. “Are you afraid to fight the Chu people? Is that it? You’re frightened?”

“I am afraid,” Eridun Bari said. “I am afraid of my people becoming a knife in someone else’s hand — of cutting down the wheat in front while someone behind us carries off all the grain. As the Chu people would say: we do all the harvesting, and others take the crop.”

Zhachaleng shot to his feet. “So you are defying the Great Khan’s will?”

The Nalan Khan’s expression cooled, and his voice dropped accordingly. “Have you forgotten your own position here?”

Zhachaleng bowed — then straightened. “I have not forgotten that you are the honored Nalan Khan. But if you choose to become an enemy, this will be the last bow I give you.”

At that moment, Borijitai came running in from outside, flushed with excitement. “Great Khan — guess who I encountered during my patrol today!”

Without waiting for Eridun Bari to answer, he answered himself: “I met Tang Pidi — the one they call the undefeated war-blade!”

The people of the outer steppe called Tang Pidi *Ilde* — meaning war-blade.

Eridun Bari gave him a sharp look. “Can you not see I have a guest?”

Borijitai turned quickly to bow to Zhachaleng, then looked back to the chieftain. “He is exactly as the stories say — I challenged him, and lost without a shred of doubt. He didn’t take my blade, and he didn’t take me as his slave. He said he didn’t need a slave — he needed a friend. He said that if our Nalan people ever needed his help, he would ride to us.”

Eridun Bari smiled. “For someone of your temperament to meet someone and genuinely submit — that Tang Pidi must truly deserve the title of First Warrior. And it sounds as if he possesses a spirit as vast as the steppe itself.”

“First Warrior?”

Zhachaleng’s brow creased. He asked, “Is the person you’re describing a man from a small sub-tribe under the Geqin?”

Borijitai answered, “Yes, that’s him — a true hero beyond compare. I believe now that no one can defeat him.”

“Ha ha ha ha…”

Zhachaleng burst into laughter, his contempt thick as he said, “In the Chu people’s phrase: you are all frogs in a well, looking at a palm-sized piece of sky and thinking that is all the sky there is.”

He looked at Borijitai. “I can’t even remember the name of that petty sub-tribe. But I can tell you — the Geqin tribe itself has already submitted to us, the Tiehe. A thousand-commander from some tiny sub-tribe is, in my eyes, no more than a rabbit in the gaze of an eagle.”

He asked: “Where is that man now? I want to go see him.”

Borijitai looked to Eridun Bari. The chieftain was silent a moment, then shook his head.

“Envoy, let me remind you: this is my grassland, my domain, I am the Khan here. My man just told me that Tang Pidi is his friend. The Nalan do not sell out their friends — and they do not permit anyone to humiliate those under their protection.”

He rose, his bearing grave. “Those who show no respect to the Nalan’s guests will receive none in return.”

Zhachaleng’s eyes flickered once — and then he smiled. “Then I shall defer to the Nalan Khan’s wishes. Please, consider it carefully at your leisure. I’ll retire to my tent.”

He turned and left.

Eridun Bari waited until the man was gone, then spoke to Borijitai quietly: “Go and warn Tang Pidi. Tell him to be careful.”

Borijitai nodded. “I’ll go now.”

—

In another tent, Zhachaleng entered, kicked over a stool, and stood there in silence for a moment.

Then he murmured to himself: “That old man has no business continuing as Nalan Khan.”

—