Chapter 1: The Grand Consort

The wind blowing from Qingzhuo Snow Mountain carried the scent of high mountain snow foam. After traveling across a thousand miles of expansive grassland, it struck their faces with only refreshing coolness.

The horizon always lay beyond their line of sight. A trace of the setting sun burned with extraordinary magnificence at the edge of the azure sky, illuminating the magnificent river before them until it sparkled like gold.

“Once we cross this river ahead, we’ll be in the territory of the Huozhuo Twelve Tribes.” Hua Qiong emerged from the carriage and draped a cloak over Feng Zhiwei, who stood with her hands clasped behind her back at the river’s edge. “Though spring has come to the interior, the further north we travel, the colder it gets. What will we do if you catch cold in such thin clothing?”

Feng Zhiwei pulled the cloak tighter and smiled at her. “Don’t treat me like a sick cat. You’re close to giving birth—you’re the one who shouldn’t be out in the wind.”

Hua Qiong patted her shoulder, and the two exchanged smiles.

Then each turned their gaze away.

One continued staring blankly at the river water, the other squinted while gazing far across the vast grassland.

The wind lifted both women’s hair, setting it dancing wildly.

They had been traveling for some time since leaving the Imperial Capital. On that day of heavy snow, after Feng Zhiwei buried Madam Feng and Feng Hao, she had fallen severely ill. After recovering, she carefully considered her options and decided to leave the Imperial Capital after all.

All sacrifices must have their value. Her mother had doted on her younger brother for sixteen years, making so many preparations and creating so many illusions, all for the day when the Great Cheng Imperial Bloodline case erupted—she could push her brother forward to take the blame for her, even sacrificing her own life in exchange for the Tiansheng Emperor’s forgiveness and pity. This not only gave Feng Zhiwei a chance to survive but also the possibility to rise.

From now on, she would never again be in danger of having her identity exposed. She could even use the emperor’s guilt and her status as a princess to gradually walk toward the direction her mother had hoped she would go.

Her mother had done this much for her, performing for the Tiansheng Emperor even in death. How could Feng Zhiwei disappoint such painstaking kindness? How could she waste those two lives?

And since Ning Yi had already made his move against her, there was no possibility of mercy remaining. Having escaped his clutches once, who could guarantee there wouldn’t be a second attempt? As Ning Yi returned to the capital, his great victory in the southern campaign would surely increase his influence. How could she compete with him then?

“There are some things I am determined to obtain. Now that we’ve reached this point, I cannot retreat even if I wished to. Sometimes those in positions of power have no choice—even if they want to step back, their subordinates and followers won’t allow it. Do you… understand?”

Those words still echoed in her ears—that conversation in the corridor outside the Imperial Study after the Fifth Prince’s succession struggle. Only now did she understand their deeper meaning.

Unfortunately, she understood too late.

Residing in the Imperial Capital was extremely difficult, so she would take a step back first—retreating to advance, with vast seas and open skies ahead.

Not long after, both Hua Qiong and Helian Zheng arrived. At that time, changes occurred in the war against Yue.

First, during one battle, Tiansheng’s army fell into a Great Yue ambush and suffered a major defeat. The commanding general, Qiu Shangqi, was severely wounded.

Upon subsequent investigation, they discovered the problem originated with the Huozhuo tribes. Among the Huozhuo Twelve Tribes, the Jinpeng Tribe, dissatisfied with unequal pasture distribution after the heavy winter snow, had secretly colluded with Great Yue to sell military intelligence. The old Huozhuo King, in his fury, summoned the Jinpeng Tribe chieftain for questioning, only to be assassinated by warriors the Jinpeng Tribe had hidden. The Huozhuo tribes immediately fell into chaos. It was said that since the old king’s death, they fought and died daily over inheritance rights and tribal power distribution.

The Huozhuo tribes were Tiansheng territory, so such events naturally could not be allowed to continue. The Tiansheng Emperor immediately granted Helian Zheng’s request to return to the grasslands, conferring upon him the title of Great Khan of the Huozhuo Twelve Tribes and inheriting the Prince of Shunyi title. He was to return to the grasslands to assume his position. An imperial edict severely reprimanded Jinpeng Tribe chieftain Dala, demanding he immediately hand over the assassins who killed the old king and submit to the new king.

The edict was grand and dignified, but everyone knew the grassland tribes were fierce and only believed in the victor becoming king. If Helian Zheng, this Prince of Shunyi, could not suppress the grassland rebellion, it would be an empty imperial decree—he might not even keep his own life intact.

Helian Zheng immediately assembled his subordinates to rush back to the grasslands. Before departing, he bid farewell to Feng Zhiwei, but she merely said indifferently, “No need for farewells. I’m going with you.”

The next day, the Tiansheng Emperor issued an edict conferring upon Feng Zhiwei the title of Princess Shengying and bestowing her in marriage to Helian Zheng. Changying Guard Deputy Commander Chunyu Meng would escort her in the wedding procession, departing immediately to accompany the Prince of Shunyi to the Huozhuo Twelve Tribes.

This title containing the character “sheng” (holy) shocked the entire court, but Feng Zhiwei merely hid her mocking smile beneath a gentle expression—as expected, what one cannot obtain becomes most sacred.

Helian Zheng felt both joy and worry, his complex feelings churning within him, unable to speak. But Feng Zhiwei simply went to court to calmly receive the decree, accepting it under the complicated gazes of those thinking “how pitiful—just as she climbed the branch, she must go to her death.”

That day in the lofty Golden Hall, Princess Shengying held her head high as she descended the steps, her posture straight, her long train of skirts trailing across the jade stairs and golden steps. Her departing back radiated determination.

That day, the Prince of Shunyi’s procession departed from the Main Hall, passed the Nine Dragon Terrace, traveled down Jade Hall Boulevard, crossed the Divine Water Gate, and exited through Yongning Gate, leaving the capital.

That day, the Imperial Commissioner for Southern Min, Commanding General of the Southern Campaign, Prince of Chu Ning Yi returned triumphant to the capital. The commissioner’s procession entered through Chang’an Gate, passed the Divine Water Gate, traveled down Jade Hall Boulevard, reached the Nine Dragon Terrace, and ascended to the Main Hall.

Their paths crossed.

When the hooves of the Imperial Commissioner’s horses trampled the red silk carpeting the ground for the wedding procession, the Imperial Capital had become a memory.

When the Imperial Commissioner knelt in the Golden Hall to express gratitude for imperial grace, receiving that series of banquets, merit assessments, and rewards… once again commanding wind and rain in the Imperial Capital’s flourishing splendor, Princess Shengying’s long procession of horses had already traveled toward the vast grasslands a thousand miles away.

The grassland wind was harsh and cold.

Feng Zhiwei stood beside the shimmering waters of the Chang River, watching the setting sun gradually burn itself out, watching the scattered light gradually surrender to darkness. After a long while, she slowly smiled.

She gently drew something from her sleeve—square and solid, smooth to the touch. Without looking, she could feel the naturally formed beautiful pattern on its surface.

Most naturally beautiful things in this world are poisonous.

Now she finally understood.

The wind moved across the water, billowing her sleeves. In the wind, some sound hummed low—whether it was the endless reeds along the roadside singing, or the sea at Anlan Gorge beneath the night sky, its tides rising and falling without cease.

Who was listening to the reeds sing? Who was listening to the sea compose poetry? Who was listening to this moment, to the Chang River beneath the billowing night wind?

“Splash.”

After a very long time, a soft sound came from the water’s surface, then returned to silence.

The grassland night was deep and cool.

“Why don’t we cross the river under cover of night?” Returning to the encampment, Helian Zheng asked with furrowed brows.

“You know why we cannot.” Feng Zhiwei sat beside him. “Although the opposite bank isn’t currently Jinpeng Tribe territory, the twelve tribes are in internal chaos now. Who knows whether the Pixiu Tribe on the opposite bank harbors treacherous intentions? Crossing the river at night is too dangerous.”

She picked up a cup of sheep’s milk but frowned before bringing it close.

“If you don’t want to drink it, don’t force yourself.” Helian Zheng pressed down on her hand.

Feng Zhiwei didn’t move, her gaze dropping to linger briefly on the hand pressing her wrist. Helian Zheng immediately withdrew his hand awkwardly.

Turning her gaze away, Feng Zhiwei smiled as if nothing had happened. “In this world, one cannot always avoid doing things simply because one dislikes them.”

She tilted her head back and drank the sheep’s milk in one gulp, then took the handkerchief Helian Zheng offered to wipe her lips, smiling at him openly.

Helian Zheng said nothing—he knew if he spoke to her at this moment, she would surely be unable to hold back the sheep’s milk she’d just drunk and would vomit it out. Then she would drink it again later. Why torment her unnecessarily?

He turned his gaze away, not wanting her to see the pain in his eyes.

Zhiwei had changed.

Not her usual demeanor—she remained gentle and graceful, still smiling warmly. But only those constantly at her side knew that behind her gentle, graceful smile lay permanently frozen desolation.

If before, beneath her gentle exterior, her coldness and sharpness still possessed the burning warmth of human passion, now behind that gentleness remained only boundless emptiness.

She blamed herself for not being clever enough, not being ruthless enough, so she no longer allowed herself indulgence or accommodation.

Including… feelings.

On the day His Majesty issued the marriage decree, amidst his grief and pain at losing his father-king, he had found a trace of surprise. But when he raised his head to see her calm, waveless eyes, his heart had sunk heavily.

This was Feng Zhiwei with her heart locked away in a high tower.

She was closer to him than ever before. She was further from him than ever before.

This vast, expansive grassland could not match the emptiness of her heart.

“Rest early. Tomorrow we enter Huozhuo Twelve Tribes territory. The days ahead will be exhausting.” Helian Zheng took her cup.

“Perhaps… starting from now, it’s already exhausting.” Feng Zhiwei frowned, suppressing the rising nausea.

Sighing softly, Helian Zheng stood up, deciding that starting tomorrow, he would not allow any sheep’s milk to appear in her tent. Let’s see how she would drink it then.

He strode out of the tent with quick steps, his rapid movement stirring a gust of cool night air. Feng Zhiwei watched his departing back, thinking of that somewhat roguish, domineering man who had also become much more silent recently. Was it the weight of his father-king’s violent death and his clan’s uncertain future?

Everyone was being forced by circumstances to change helplessly, those former carefree days falling away like flowers from branches.

The tent flap lifted, and Gu Nanyi entered with gold monkeys on both shoulders and a baby in his arms. He was always so stubbornly persistent—whether raising children or monkeys.

Feng Zhiwei found it strange that during the time when she had no energy to look after him, the child hadn’t died in his care but remained plump and healthy, only wanting to be in his embrace, not very close to others.

Well, children always grew close to those who spent day and night with them, sleeping together—whether that person was a wet nurse or a wet… father.

“We should give her a name.” She took the child, while two brush monkeys jumped onto her fingers, gnawing on them one by one.

The locket had contained the child’s birth date. She was almost a year old now and should have a proper name.

“Zhidao.” Gu Nanyi said.

“Mm, what name do you think we should give her?” Feng Zhiwei thought he was saying he knew they should name the child.

“Zhidao.”

“Ah?” Feng Zhiwei paused.

“Zhidao.” Gu Nanyi pointed at the child.

Feng Zhiwei finally understood he was saying the name he’d chosen was “Zhidao” (Know/Understand).

Feng Zhiwei didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Gu Nanyi solemnly took back the child. “Gu Zhidao.”

“…”

“I’m saying we cannot use such a name.” Feng Zhiwei sighed after a long moment, patiently explaining to Young Master Gu. “She’s a girl. Using such a name, she’ll hate you when she grows up.”

Behind his veil, Young Master Gu looked at her with eyes brighter than the grassland stars, confused. After a long while, he said, “Why?”

Young Master Gu rarely asked “why,” so whenever such an opportunity arose, Feng Zhiwei never let it pass. “Girls’ names should be elegant and beautiful, otherwise people will laugh at them.”

“But I think Zhidao is best.” Young Master Gu answered slowly.

Feng Zhiwei fell silent. She knew that since her severe illness in Nanhai, Gu Nanyi had developed a psychological knot. He believed all problems stemmed from his “not knowing,” so his heart was set on “knowing.” Even this unfortunate child was being forced to be called “Zhidao.”

“How about this—let’s call her Zhixiao.” She finally compromised. “Gu Zhixiao. Zhixiao means knowing—see, doesn’t it sound much better? And it sounds like my little sister.”

Young Master Gu thought for a while, nodded, accepting this name, but wanted to correct her perception. “Your daughter.”

Feng Zhiwei nearly choked.

My daughter?

She wanted very much to correct this, but truly didn’t dare. She feared if this issue continued, Young Master Gu might follow with “my daughter,” which would be a big problem.

“Your foster daughter.” She said decisively. “Yours.”

Young Master Gu nodded and replied, “Mine is yours.”

Feng Zhiwei took a deep breath, deciding there really was no need to continue this topic. Gu Nanyi also felt this was completely beyond dispute and changed the subject himself. “Wei Zhi encountered a landslide on the return journey to the capital, was swept away by floods, whereabouts unknown. Zong Chen said so.”

Feng Zhiwei paused again. Zong Chen didn’t come tell her himself but had Nanyi relay the message? She immediately understood—Zong Chen had noticed she wanted to draw Gu Nanyi out of his own world and was cooperating with her.

Wei Zhi’s whereabouts unknown… She fell into silence. It seemed Ning Yi had not exposed that she was Wei Zhi after all, and had even found a plausible explanation for her disappearance. Why was this? Did he still hope that someday she would return to court as Wei Zhi?

She had long prepared for Ning Yi to expose her other identity. This was also why she had quickly left the capital with Helian Zheng. The northern frontier was far from the emperor’s reach. Even if the Tiansheng Emperor set aside all the considerable merits Wei Zhi had established and wanted to prosecute her crime of deceiving the sovereign, it wouldn’t be so easy.

Yet he said nothing.

Since he had already struck ruthlessly at her, why not eradicate her completely, roots and all? This really didn’t seem like Ning Yi’s style.

Currently only Ning Yi and Ning Cheng clearly knew she was Wei Zhi. Xin Ziyan didn’t know; otherwise the Tiansheng Emperor would certainly know as well.

Why had those two only struck halfway? She couldn’t understand it no matter how she thought, nor did she want to understand. Regardless of how they struck, they had struck. The facts were there, the consequences tragic, forever irreversible.

After Gu Nanyi finished speaking, he took out a bottle on his own to feed Zhixiao milk, his left hand steadily supporting her, his right hand feeding at an unhurried pace. Between his fingers he held a small piece of cotton cloth, wiping away any overflowing milk at any time. His movements were practiced, his posture flowing—vastly different from the beginning when milk splashed all over the baby’s face and body.

Two brush monkeys stood on Zhixiao’s belly, on tiptoes, devoutly supporting the bottle.

The lamplight shone over, faintly penetrating Gu Nanyi’s veil, illuminating that man’s exquisitely beautiful features, revealing his slightly lowered thick lashes and his vague expression of peace and tranquility. At this moment he remained a jade carving, yet alive and warm, radiating brilliance from within.

Feng Zhiwei quietly watched this comical yet warm scene, a trace of warmth emerging in her eyes.

She had seen countless instances of coldness in people, yet could always see the purest and most beautiful in the person before her.

“Brother Gu…” she suddenly said. “Since Wei Zhi has disappeared, there’s the possibility of reappearing. What do you think of this matter?”

Starting today, she would let him participate in this world, think with his own attitude.

Gu Nanyi didn’t think but answered quickly. “Don’t.”

“Why?”

Gu Nanyi finished feeding the milk and carefully took Zhixiao over, placing her in Feng Zhiwei’s arms.

“It will cause heartache.”

His gaze fell on Feng Zhiwei’s face. In his mind suddenly flashed that first snowfall in the Imperial Capital, that day at the foot of Song Mountain where two grave mounds rose, when she knelt in the deep snow, using her hands to smooth the broken earth on the grave tops, bit by bit.

She didn’t cry; she remained very quiet throughout.

As he watched her kneeling figure in the flying snow, he felt the iron-grey sky filled with dancing snowflakes suddenly become heavy and oppressive, spinning down to press heavily on his heart.

That day he asked her what was so heavy, preventing peaceful breathing.

She said, heartache.

Heartache.

So that was called heartache.

That day he accompanied her in the deep snow from sunset to sunrise. When a line of red sun trembled and struggled out from the clouds at the horizon, its bright light instantly crossing ten thousand miles to shoot into his eyes, he suddenly understood some things he couldn’t understand before.

For instance, it wasn’t that he didn’t understand many things, but that others couldn’t make him understand. Only she could teach him what bewilderment meant, what worry meant, what fear meant, what… heartache meant.

Only her.

Across from him, Feng Zhiwei stared at him in shock. He leaned closer, sitting nearer, and took her finger.

Feng Zhiwei looked at him in astonishment—before, he had grabbed and pulled her, but those were in critical moments to save her. For him to actively touch her like this in everyday situations without reason seemed to be the first time.

He took her finger and guided it to touch Zhixiao’s tender cheek.

“Warm.” He said. “Comfortable.”

Two brush monkeys stretched out their furry paws, not to be outdone, rushing forward to touch as well.

The unfortunate child, unable to bear the torment of two people and two monkeys, burst into tears with a wail.

But Feng Zhiwei closed her eyes.

Was Young Master Gu… comforting her?

She closed her eyes, silent, unmoving.

After a long while, fine moisture slowly flowed from the corners of her eyes.

Late that night, they had rolled into a pile in the tent. Gu Nanyi refused to leave, sleeping on her felt mat, a baby on his belly, two monkeys on the baby’s belly.

The procession had a wet nurse, but Gu Nanyi often brought her to sleep with him anyway. Zhixiao was a very well-behaved child, rarely fussy at night. Every night at the hour of Yin she would need to pee right on schedule, and the young master would wake up right on schedule to help her.

Feng Zhiwei spread another felt mat to sleep on, hands pillowing her head, finding it somewhat amusing that everyone was used to this by now. Helian Zheng was also magnanimous enough, allowing his “princess consort” to share a tent with another man.

Sleeping until midnight, she suddenly felt a brightness somewhere, then heard faint sounds of commotion.

She hastily got up and exited the tent. Helian Zheng and others had also risen, gazing toward the opposite bank—the great river flowed ceaselessly, its waters never resting. The opposite bank ten zhang wide seemed very restless, with fires lit everywhere. In the firelight, shadows flickered vaguely, accompanied by shrill screams.

“What’s happening?”

“Two possibilities,” Helian Zheng said. “Either the Pixiu Tribe is having internal problems—the grasslands have been very unstable lately—or someone is using deception, trying to make us cross the river at night.”

“How is the Pixiu Tribe’s usual loyalty to the royal court?”

“Not good.” Helian Zheng sneered coldly. “The White Deer, Blue Bird, and Fire Fox tribes are the royal court’s loyal subjects, descended from the Huozhuo clan’s direct Hongjile lineage, with interests tied to the royal court. Since the Pixiu Tribe occupies the outer territory of the Huozhuo Twelve Tribes, naturally they wouldn’t be my father-king’s most faithful subjects.”

“Oh.” Feng Zhiwei turned back indifferently. “Fine then, let’s sleep.”

Everyone turned with her in unison, not sparing another glance at the screams and cries for help from the opposite bank.

“Damn Helian Zheng! Your mother is dying and you’re still lying there motionless?” A shrill cry suddenly came from the opposite bank.

Helian Zheng spun around abruptly.

Feng Zhiwei murmured, “Whose voice is that? More terrifying than ten Zhixiaos crying together?”

A larger fire blazed in the distance, vaguely illuminating a figure who seemed to be leaping and jumping in the firelight, waving something in her hands. Her voice was remarkably penetrating, actually able to carry across ten zhang of river to the opposite bank amidst such a noisy night. “Little whelp Helian! Little bastard Helian! Zhadalanyin’erji! Get your ass over here! Immediately! Right now!”

In the firelight, Helian Zheng stared dumbly at the opposite bank, his face changing colors—green, then purple—a colorful sight.

Eight Biao also stared dumbly at the opposite bank, then suddenly clutched his head and turned to leave.

“Who is Zhadalanyin’erji?” Feng Zhiwei frowned, suddenly having an ominous premonition.

It can’t be…

“It’s me—” Helian Zheng stood there numbly, answering woodenly.

“Jixiang little treasure—” The figure on the opposite bank, resembling a shaman performing a ritual, seemed to realize angry cursing wasn’t working and immediately changed tactics, waving that long strip and calling out shrilly, “Jixiang little treasure, Jixiang little sweetheart, Jixiang little darling, Jixiang flesh of my heart little precious… your mother is about to die. The damn Jinpeng Tribe wants to capture your beautiful mother to be a concubine. If you don’t come, you’ll have to call Hongjila Jinpeng ‘father’!”

Jixiang little treasure… Feng Zhiwei looked at Helian Zheng sidelong, deciding not to ask who this was. Looking at his expression, he already wanted to die.

“Liu Mudan!” Helian Zheng suddenly jumped up, roaring at the opposite bank in fury, “Go die! Go marry! Go sleep in a nest with Hongjila Jinpeng! Just wait until next time I see you—you and your adulterer will kneel down and call me Khan-father!”

Feng Zhiwei stumbled… What kind of people are these… What kind of dialogue is this…

The opposite bank’s Lady Liu Mudan, hearing this, suddenly changed to a weeping tone. “Jigou’er, you heartless wretch! This old lady suffered through half a month of difficult labor to birth you, you little bastard! Wiped your shit and piss to raise you big, this old lady ate grass and squeezed out milk, nursed you big, you ungrateful wolf cub! Your father died and you won’t avenge him, your mother is about to be bedded by another and you don’t care either. How come this old lady didn’t throw you in a piss bucket and drown you? You you you you you you… this old lady will drown herself right now and strangle you as a ghost!”

Crying and shouting, she waved her arms and ran toward the riverbank, making a show of suicide. The riverbank was so long—she ran from this end to that end, from that end back to this end, running four complete circuits without jumping. Countless people chased behind her, unable to catch up with those formidable strides.

Feng Zhiwei’s mouth hung open in a once-in-a-millennium sight, watching that divine shaman across the way—half a month of difficult labor! And you’re still alive!

From Helian degraded to Zhadalanyin’erji degraded to Jixiang Treasure degraded to Jigou’er, Helian Zheng’s face never stopped displaying its five-colored brilliance. He glared at the divine shaman opposite, stomped his foot after a long moment in frustration, and headed toward the camp. After walking a few steps he stopped, stopped then walked again, actually turning circles in place.

Feng Zhiwei sighed.

Very obviously, this lady of exceptional style and surpassing temperament at the divine shaman level was the Grassland King’s Grand Consort, Helian Zheng’s mother, the previous generation’s Princess of Shunyi. Though she couldn’t understand how the Huozhuo Grand Consort could be such a heaven-shocking, ghost-weeping woman, sadly, she really was Helian Zheng’s mom.

No wonder the old king’s ten wives weren’t filled—the royal tent only had four consorts—this Grand Consort was far too distinctive!

Feng Zhiwei squinted at the opposite bank for a quarter hour. Ah, this river is really hard to jump into—she’s already run eight circuits.

Grand Consort, your stamina is truly excellent.

“There’s obviously a trap.” Zong Chen said beside her. “The opposite bank is in such chaos with burning and killing, yet your ladyship… ahem, the heir’s mother, can still run back and forth so freely. Obviously they’re using her to force the heir to cross the river.”

“Do you think the Grand Consort is stupid or clever?” Feng Zhiwei asked instead of answering, a peculiar smile on her lips. “Making such a scene, even an idiot can see there’s a problem. As long as Helian Zheng isn’t a pig, he won’t cross the river.”

“If she didn’t make such a scene and firmly refused to appear to lure Helian Zheng across, the Jinpeng Tribe would probably tie her up to threaten the heir.” Zong Chen also showed a faint smile. “Now the Jinpeng Tribe hasn’t reacted yet. Once they do, the Grand Consort will be in danger.”

Feng Zhiwei turned to look at Helian Zheng. He stood with hands clasped behind his back in the darkness, his back to the riverbank, completely motionless, not turning around.

The divine shaman on the opposite bank ran until she was gasping for breath, the long strip in her hand seeming unable to wave anymore. Her voice hoarse, she shouted, “Jigou’er, you bastard! Your father died and people moved on! You’re not as caring as Klie! This old lady will just treat you as if I never birthed you, this dog bastard! Tomorrow I’ll take him as my son!”

Helian Zheng’s back trembled. Feng Zhiwei quietly asked, “Who is Klie?”

“Fire Fox Tribe chieftain…” After a long moment, Helian Zheng gritted his teeth in response. “So he’s the traitor…”

Feng Zhiwei understood. Helian Zheng had told her before that there were many questions about the old king’s death. When they summoned the Jinpeng Tribe into the royal tent for questioning, after the incident the Jinpeng chieftain left grandly, treating the royal tent’s strict guards as nothing—clearly there must be an insider. But they didn’t know who.

Now the divine shaman Grand Consort had used this method to notify her son.

Behind the Grand Consort, people laughed mockingly, as if many found it entertaining. Feng Zhiwei raised her telescope and saw beyond the layers of tents, countless black shadows scattered about.

“We have experts at swimming underwater, right?” she suddenly asked.

Zong Chen said, “When confirming the Grand Consort’s identity, I already sent them across.”

Feng Zhiwei nodded with satisfaction. Helian Zheng heard this, turned back with a grateful expression. Grassland people weren’t skilled at water—in this hasty moment, his subordinates had no such experts. Crossing this ten-zhang-wide river without being discovered was very difficult.

He suddenly turned and shouted toward the opposite bank.

“Liu Mudan, you crazy woman! Sleep in a nest with whoever you want, take whoever you want as a son, jump in the river if you want to jump—stop your endless nagging, it’s annoying!”

“This old lady will sleep right now! Jump right now!” Liu Mudan broke free from those pulling her back, bouncing and jumping, spitting forcefully into the Chang River.

“You don’t scare me!” Helian Zheng raged. “Before you married my father you already slept in the beds of at least a hundred men! After marrying my father you still seduced Naiman Bailu! In the Huozhuo Twelve Tribes, at least ten lords have accused you of harassment! You’ve completely disgraced my Yin’erji royal family, sullied the noble Yin’erji bloodline! If I pay you any mind, my surname isn’t Yin’erji!”

“How come this old lady didn’t stuff you under horse hooves to be trampled to death!”

“How come I didn’t drag you out of Hule’s bed and smash you to death!”

This mother and son actually started quarreling across the river, revealing each other’s secrets. One said the other was promiscuous, a slut, came from a brothel, had low status, wasn’t worthy of being Grand Consort, and as her son he felt humiliated for her. The other cursed him as heartless, wolf-hearted, dog-lunged, definitely a reincarnated snow mountain wolf cub—otherwise why from infancy while nursing would he want to bite off her nipples, and pissing could last three hours until her hands went numb holding him—cursing in five vivid colors, quarreling in seven brilliant hues. Those on both banks listening to these hidden secrets of the supreme grassland king were all left dumbfounded.

Listening until even those on the opposite bank forgot to pull Liu Mudan back, allowing her to bounce closer and closer toward the river.

“Hold her for me—” Suddenly a long shout accompanied the sound of urgent galloping hooves.

At the same time came a splash.

Liu Mudan at the riverbank suddenly disappeared.

“Swoosh.”

The calm Chang River surface suddenly exploded with a huge spray of silver light, accompanying the splashing water shooting directly at those people following behind Liu Mudan. Those people were listening with great interest to the grassland king’s secrets—how could they know an underwater killing god had arrived? Before they could react from their surprise at seeing Liu Mudan suddenly disappear, that spray of silver light instantly enveloped them.

“Ah!”

Screams rang out continuously. The specially crafted inland powerful crossbows from skilled craftsmen had sufficient killing power even when fired underwater. Instantly people fell in droves, fresh blood dyeing the azure river water red.

The man galloping over was also within the range of the hidden weapons. He was quite agile, and when silver light struck his face, he immediately flipped under the horse’s belly. The steed was struck by hidden weapons and collapsed with a long neigh. He darted out from under the horse’s belly, looked furiously at the now-calm water surface and the large expanse of corpses on the water, stomped his feet, his face turning iron-blue.

Several silver ripples silently streaked across the water surface toward the opposite bank. In the middle of the river, a woman’s head emerged, triumphantly raising her hand and waving at him, then puckering her bright red lips to blow him a kiss.

“Mwah!”

“Hey!”

That man angrily drew his sword, striking the water surface and raising a spray over a zhang high, but those travelers had already gone far away.

When the divine shaman Grand Consort who didn’t forget to blow a kiss while crossing was brought ashore by Zong Chen’s underwater swimming experts, Helian Zheng was already waiting in strict formation on the opposite bank.

The ambushers underwater had been cleared out. Helian Zheng paid no attention to his old mother who came crying and wailing with arms spread wide, immediately ordering his three hundred guards onto the boats. The three thousand wedding escort guards Chunyu Meng had brought also followed.

The other side’s plan to use the Grand Consort to coerce Helian Zheng had failed, but they also had no intention of backing down. In the firelight, armored cavalry riders lined up in formation, waiting in strict array.

This was the beginning of entering Huozhuo territory, also the first step in whether the Grassland King could gain a foothold. Just as Helian Zheng needed to establish his authority in this battle, the Jinpeng Tribe also planned in this battle to leave Helian Zheng’s footsteps permanently here.

Grassland men acted directly. Since neither side planned to let the other leave alive, they didn’t even waste words and immediately engaged in close combat.

Crossing the river meant they couldn’t immediately mount horses. Almost as soon as the boats reached shore, the enemy’s arrows already fell like rain.

Chunyu Meng had long ago ordered his shield troops to crouch at the bow as a screen, with longbow archers returning fire from behind the shields. Helian Zheng and Eight Biao, holding shields high from their elevated position, charged off the boat and plunged headlong into the enemy formation.

Zong Chen’s underwater swimming experts, slippery as fish, exploded up from the riverbed, appearing unpredictably under the hooves of the Jinpeng and Pixiu tribes’ cavalry riders. They did nothing else but slash horse legs, instantly toppling a pile and disrupting the rear formation. By the time those riders struggled to their feet, Helian Zheng’s men had already reached them.

Helian Zheng, harboring hatred for his father’s murder, naturally showed no mercy, cutting people down like tofu. Leading the famous grassland warriors Eight Biao, they swept into the enemy forces like nine whirlwinds. Wherever they passed, blood light illuminated the night sky, staining the grassland red.

The Pixiu Tribe was originally the weakest among the twelve tribes—otherwise they wouldn’t be assigned to this grassland periphery. The forces they could deploy were limited. The Jinpeng Tribe, still competing with other tribes for royal power, certainly couldn’t devote all their strength to intercepting Helian Zheng. Originally the Jinpeng Tribe had calculated that Helian Zheng’s guards weren’t numerous, and though the princess consort’s wedding escort was adequate in numbers, they would have to cross slowly by boat and couldn’t press into battle all at once—they could completely slaughter them in batches. This plan was quite good, and was also why Feng Zhiwei and Helian Zheng didn’t want to cross the river at night.

But the Jinpeng Tribe never expected that Feng Zhiwei had her own forces—not numerous in number, but comprising experts in various fields. Their combined strength was no less than a well-trained small army.

What’s more, Gu Nanyi hadn’t even acted yet.

Young Master Gu, with his posture of holding a baby while strolling leisurely, followed behind Helian Zheng. With hands waving and eyes sending, he dispatched a large group of fierce Jinpeng warriors trying to attack Helian Zheng from behind. Many didn’t even know how they died.

By the time the sky was growing light, this battle—not large in scale but destined to have far-reaching effects—had already ended.

The Jinpeng Tribe chieftain who had pursued midway, seeing the situation turning unfavorable, led his remaining tribesmen in flight. The Pixiu Tribe families were right here with nowhere to flee, so most abandoned their weapons and surrendered.

Daylight shone palely over, the thick blood on the blue-green grass only now dripping drop by drop, soaking the black earth until it became even more fertile.

Next year the pastures here would surely be even more lush.

Helian Zheng walked slowly through the field of corpses and scorched smoke, his deep purple-tinged eyes calm and waveless. His blue-gold long robe slowly brushed across the bloodstained ground, his feet stepping over his cowering prisoners.

“Tucha.” He suddenly stopped before one person, looking down at him. “We grew up together as friends. When we were small, you beat me in archery. We made an agreement—your daughter would marry my son. Now my son isn’t even born yet, and you want to kill your daughter’s future father-in-law at your feet?”

Tucha raised his head, the grassland man’s face covered in tears.

“Yin’erji, it’s my fault! I was deceived by Hongjila Jinpeng’s honeyed words! We… our Pixiu Tribe hasn’t been allocated good pastures for so many years. Our original fertile lands were gradually occupied by the Fire Fox Tribe. Hongjila promised that after success, he would give us half of the southern grasslands… Yin’erji, those who betray brothers deserve death! But! For the sake of our childhood together, don’t implicate my tribesmen and wife and daughter!”

Behind him, women and children cried in a flood, kowtowing repeatedly to Helian Zheng.

Helian Zheng stood with hands clasped behind his back, looking at him, nodding. “You know what to do.”

Tucha bit his teeth, drew his blade with a ring, and stabbed it into his heart.

Behind him, the Pixiu Tribe’s men all silently drew their blades. Dozens of snow-bright blades carved brilliant white arcs under the grassland’s blue sky, then shot up fountains of fresh red blood in the daylight.

Weeping shook the heavens.

Helian Zheng watched calmly throughout, not avoiding the blood slowly flowing to his boots.

Then he raised his head, looking at the eagle-like shifting white clouds at the horizon, saying lightly and casually:

“Kill them all.”

“Slash!”

Blade light opened the slaughter, blood rainbows spanning the sky.

The crying and screaming stopped abruptly.

Feng Zhiwei stood in the distance with hands clasped behind her back, watching, making no move to stop it.

Grassland people repay grievances for certain, acting on whim and vendetta—this was their chosen way of survival. If today someone showed womanly kindness, who could guarantee that in the future some of these children wouldn’t grow up to wield blades and kill their way into the royal tent for revenge?

On the grasslands, there was no such thing as not killing prisoners, only complete eradication.

In Tucha’s heart, perhaps what remained was the former Helian Zheng—that magnanimous and tolerant youth who hunted together and would leave the best prey for his brothers.

But that premise was—still being brothers.

Actually, as early as last night, when the Grand Consort and her son revealed each other’s embarrassments across the river while everyone listened with great interest, these people were already destined to not keep their lives.

The privacy and dignity of the Grassland Royal Court must be defended with blood and lives.

Only the dead don’t spread rumors.

“Of the Huozhuo Twelve Tribes, currently only eleven remain.” Helian Zheng raised his head, seeming to murmur to himself. “Who will be the next tribe to be erased?”

“Son!” Liu Mudan came running over, dripping wet, not sparing a single glance at the corpses scattered everywhere on the ground. “Don’t kill Klie—he’s quite good-looking…”

Helian Zheng pushed away his mother who was obsessed with sex. Liu Mudan stumbled back several steps and was caught by Feng Zhiwei’s extended hand.

“Who are you?” Liu Mudan, about to throw a tantrum, turned her head and saw Feng Zhiwei. Tilting her head, she examined Feng Zhiwei from top to bottom with eyes that could see through anyone’s measurements, then had a sudden realization. “You can’t be that whatever Yingying Princess the court decreed in marriage, can you? My heavens! How come you’re so malnourished? Jigou’er doesn’t follow his father’s example of not knowing restraint, using you every night, does he?”

“Liu Mudan!” Helian Zheng roared in anger. “Get lost!”

“You get lost!” Liu Mudan strode to sit in front of the tent, pointing at her own nose. “I, the Grand Consort, am training your wife and concubines—what business does a man have butting in? You,” she crooked her finger at Feng Zhiwei, “why haven’t you come over to kowtow to your mother-in-law?”