The “mother-in-law” sat enthroned in majesty, in colorful gorgeous robes, with dignified bearing, summoning her servants forward.

Well, actually it was Lady Liu Mudan, squatting on a blue stone used to weight down the tent, wearing a right-lapel diagonal-edged fur robe stained with mud and grass sap, red on top and green below, tied with a yellow waist sash—the color combination quite thought-provoking—crooking her finger, signaling for Her Ladyship the Princess, this generation’s Princess Consort of Shunyi, to come forward and kowtow.

When these words left her mouth, at least ten people wanted to come stuff her under that stone.

Feng Zhiwei looked at her with a smile, just considering whether to give “mother-in-law” an enlightenment-style greeting gift or a gentle-breeze-style greeting gift, when Young Master Gu was already striding over with gold monkeys on both shoulders and a baby in his arms.

Seeing this wasn’t good, Feng Zhiwei quickly stepped forward first, reached out to grasp Liu Mudan’s hand, and said affectionately, “Mother-in-law, paying respects shouldn’t be done here. Look, your clothes are all wet… better to rest in the tent first before the formal greeting.” As she spoke, her gaze swept across the woman’s chest.

Liu Mudan immediately thrust out her chest proudly, but when her eyes fell, she discovered her robe was disheveled, her front gaping open, revealing what appeared to be her braless chest underneath. Her eyes rolled, showing neither embarrassment nor concealment. Instead, she thrust her chest toward Feng Zhiwei’s face even more, saying proudly, “Envious, aren’t you? Admiring, aren’t you? Your Grand Consort here is forty-five years old and they still haven’t sagged! Back when that wolf cub Jigou’er was latching on so fiercely, even he couldn’t pull them down…”

With a whoosh, the Grand Consort was flipped by her utterly exasperated Jigou’er and tossed into the tent.

Feng Zhiwei shook her finger at Helian Zheng, saying solemnly, “Jixiang, one must be filial.” Then she ducked inside to attend to her mother-in-law.

Student Jixiang’s face alternated between green and white, standing in the bitter cold wind, unable to withstand his mother’s formidable prowess…

“What’s your name?” Liu Mudan, who’d been flipped into the tent, rolled and sat up nimbly—her movements quite agile, suggesting she’d experienced this many times. While casually stuffing the long strip she’d been clutching into her bosom, Feng Zhiwei finally realized that what the divine shaman had been waving while performing her ritual dance last night was her own chest binding. No wonder when her robe split open just now, a large expanse of snow-white chest had threatened to spill out.

Seeing Feng Zhiwei staring at the chest binding, Liu Mudan didn’t put it on. Instead, she proudly thrust it into Feng Zhiwei’s hands, saying, “I made it myself! Look at your mother-in-law’s craftsmanship!”

Feng Zhiwei received it with both hands and truly examined her mother-in-law’s handiwork carefully.

The more she looked, the more she admired. The more she looked, the more she worshipped.

Pink color, tribute satin material only available from the interior, studded with countless pearls that made it look densely packed like a porcupine. Embroidered on the left breast were the words “Must Be Magnificent,” on the right breast “Definitely Bountiful”—the calligraphy looked like dog scratches, the embroidery work astonishingly divine. Flipping to the inner layer, stained with splotches of pale yellow marks, there were also words—on the left “Mudan,” on the right “Kuku,” and in the middle a bright red diamond-shaped pattern. After pondering for a long while, Feng Zhiwei vaguely guessed—could this be red lips?

Truly a world-shaking, heaven-entering, earth-penetrating, deafening, transcendent, peerless chest binding…

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Liu Mudan’s eyes shone, eagerly staring at Feng Zhiwei.

“Beautiful.” Feng Zhiwei said sincerely. “It contains both the bold declaration of burning one’s boats with grand masculine vigor, and the tender, lingering whispers of affectionate pet names. Moreover, with pearls gleaming and red lips like flames, it makes one feel the flowers splash tears when touched by the times, and birds startle the heart when parting in hatred.”

“You people from antiquity… people from the interior are all so bookish, I don’t understand.” Liu Mudan beamed with joy, vigorously patting Feng Zhiwei’s hand. “But I know you admire me greatly. Ah, really, after all these years, only you recognize my buried world-shaking talent… as expected, the Emperor does have good judgment. Though you’re a bit shabby, a bit unimpressive, a bit disappointing for me, your character is good. I like you.”

Feng Zhiwei smiled lightly, thanking her mother-in-law for the high praise. Liu Mudan held up her filthy chest binding, saying with difficulty, “Since you like it so much, I should give it to you. A mother-in-law should give her daughter-in-law a greeting gift, but this one…”

“How could Zhiwei take what the Grand Consort loves,” Feng Zhiwei quickly declined. “Such gorgeous and precious… clothing is only suitable for the Grand Consort’s charming and noble temperament. Giving it to Zhiwei would be a waste.”

Liu Mudan thought for a moment, nodded, and put on the chest binding herself, saying, “That’s fine too. Anyway, all your mother-in-law’s money is held by your father-in-law. Now that your father-in-law is dead, it’s held by Jigou’er. Whatever you want, just ask him for it yourself… Come, daughter-in-law, help me out.”

She indicated for Feng Zhiwei to go behind her to help fasten the bizarre little clasps at the back of her chest binding. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her breasts toward the center again and again until she was satisfied with the height, then said solemnly to Feng Zhiwei, “I see yours isn’t developed enough. Men care a lot about this—don’t take it lightly. Tomorrow I’ll give you a formula. Drink it every day. Don’t worry, I won’t say you’ll match mine, but you can at least grow to half my size.” As she spoke, she reached out to pinch and weigh them, just like feeling fatty meat at the market.

Feng Zhiwei swiftly retreated a step to avoid her, laughing, “Yes, thank you for the Grand Consort’s generous gift.”

Grow to half your size… would that even look right?

“Don’t be so polite.” Liu Mudan smiled broadly. “Besides, strictly speaking, you’re the Grand Consort now. Just call me Peony Flower—it’s catchy and intimate. Don’t call me mother-in-law, it ages people. I’m only forty-five years old!”

Right, you’re only forty-five years old. People this age are merely holding great-grandchildren.

“Peony Flower.” Feng Zhiwei smiled at Lady Liu Mudan, going with the flow.

Liu Mudan was overjoyed, feeling this daughter-in-law was excellent—understanding and considerate. She was neither too rough and fierce like grassland women, nor too reserved and delicate like interior women. Good, very good.

Inside the tent, the “mother-in-law and daughter-in-law” were having an intimate and harmonious exchange about breasts. Outside the tent, Helian Zheng asked Eight Biao worriedly, “What should we do?”

“The Grand Consort… uh, has a sense of propriety. She probably won’t be too… impolite.” San Sun comforted him without much confidence, his voice growing softer.

The self-proclaimed “searching heaven above and earth below, unprecedented and never to be repeated, the grassland’s single flower” Grand Consort Liu Mudan had always been the “searching heaven above and earth below, unprecedented and never to be repeated, grassland’s trumpet flower.” Except for the old Prince of Shunyi, from Jigou’er Helian Zheng above to remote tribal shepherd boys below, anyone who spent more than a quarter hour with this most noble female of the grasslands would infinitely approach collapse.

They’d been in there so long—was Feng Zhiwei still alive?

The tent flap lifted and someone emerged. Helian Zheng immediately jumped up. Turning around, he saw the two generations of Grand Consorts emerge hand in hand in harmony.

Liu Mudan affectionately held Feng Zhiwei’s hand, “…remember to drink it every day, preferably after intercourse…”

Feng Zhiwei immediately interrupted, “When you have a chance, Peony Flower, teach me embroidery.”

“Good.” Liu Mudan immediately forgot what she was about to say. “I’ll teach you to embroider one exactly like mine. I’ve already thought up new words for you—on the left ‘Instantly Expand,’ on the right ‘Rapidly Develop’…”

“Peony Flower, I’m hungry. Let’s go eat something.”

Peony Flower’s train of thought was interrupted again, and she trotted along with her daughter-in-law to eat.

Helian Zheng stared dumbly at their retreating backs, turned his head dumbly, and asked Eight Biao, “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

No one among Eight Biao paid him any attention—they were all gazing at Feng Zhiwei’s back with worship.

“Her Ladyship the Princess is truly divine… even Trumpet Flower couldn’t topple her…”

When Peony Flower was attacking the sheep’s milk cakes with both hands, everyone else dared to enter the tent—the Grand Consort was only particularly focused when eating, and wouldn’t be too shocking then.

Gu Nanyi, holding Gu Zhixiao, went straight to Feng Zhiwei. “No milk.”

The wet nurse who’d come from the interior, having witnessed that bloody slaughter last night, had been so frightened that her milk suddenly dried up. Gu Zhixiao was delicate and refused to drink rice soup, so Young Master Gu had come to Feng Zhiwei for help.

Feng Zhiwei stared at him—why are you looking for me? Do you really think this is my daughter?

“Where’d this baby come from? So pretty?” Peony Flower, who’d been devouring food like a whirlwind, suddenly stopped, her eyes lighting up. Still dropping crumbs from her mouth, she reached to take the baby. “Weiwi sweetheart, you’re so capable—the wedding hasn’t even happened yet and you’re already holding a baby. Jigou’er, you’re not bad either…” With lightning speed, she swooshed open the little blanket, then swooshed it closed again, glaring. “…it’s just the seed was poor quality. How come it’s a girl?”

Helian Zheng, who was drinking milk tea, spewed it out with a puff, causing Zong Chen to have to run out and change into his third white robe of the day.

“She’s not mine—” Helian Zheng said feebly. “We found her.”

“Oh.” Peony Flower sighed—whether in disappointment or relief was unclear—and reached out to take the wailing, hungry Gu Zhixiao. “I’ll do it.”

Young Master Gu naturally ignored her. Helian Zheng cursed loudly, “You’ll do it? What the hell will you do? Do you have milk?”

“You’re right!” Peony Flower set down her plate, thrust out her chest heavily, and declared loudly, “I! Have! Milk!”

“!”

Everyone in the tent froze in place. Peony Flower was already approaching Gu Nanyi with a proud expression, using her chest to push toward him wave after wave. “Want to see? Want to see? Whether there’s milk or not, one look will tell!”

For the first time in his life, Young Master Gu retreated step by step before an enemy…

Peony Flower pressed her advantage, swooshing Gu Zhixiao into her arms, smiling as she tickled the baby’s face, saying to Feng Zhiwei, “Weiwi precious, when you have one in the future, she can’t be uglier than this one.”

Feng Zhiwei sat calmly, nodding with a smile, maintaining powerful composure toward Peony Flower’s casual nicknames—compared to Jigou’er, at least Peony Flower didn’t have the nerve to call her Weimao’er or Weituzi.

“You… gave birth again…” Helian Zheng asked with difficulty. “I’ve only been gone a short time… you gave birth again?”

What do you mean “again”? Does the Grand Consort give birth frequently?

“What do you mean ‘again’!” Peony Flower suddenly flew into a rage, pointing at Helian Zheng’s nose and cursing, “All these years I’ve only given birth to seven! It’s all because of you, this reincarnated wolf cub! Lama Dama said you have a hard fate that harms your siblings—he wasn’t wrong at all! Born seven, died seven! This eighth one, I left at the royal court when I was captured. Eighty percent certain… eighty percent certain he won’t survive either! You wolf cub wolf cub wolf cub—”

This time Helian Zheng didn’t speak, apparently feeling guilty himself. Peony Flower’s rage vented completely but she immediately forgot about it, happily unbuttoning her garment. “At least there’s some to squeeze out. This has been suffocating me…”

Everyone in the tent vanished with lightning speed.

“Little girl, drink it all, drink it all.” Peony Flower very maternally opened her bosom to Gu Zhixiao. “Your brother can’t drink it anyway.”

What brother? Would Helian Zheng’s younger brother be Gu Zhixiao’s brother?

Feng Zhiwei looked at her with mixed feelings, reminding her, “Since you still have a child to feed, you should at least save some.”

“No need.” Liu Mudan waved her hand magnanimously. “He won’t survive.”

“Why?”

“It’s necessary.” Liu Mudan said. “Jigou’er harms his siblings. If he can’t harm them, then…”

She suddenly stopped speaking, her expression somewhat strange. Then she changed the subject, laughing, “Get ready. When I was captured, I left markers along the way. The royal court’s royal army should have already pursued. The large force coming to welcome Helian Zheng should have arrived too.”

Feng Zhiwei looked at this woman laughing without a care in the world, her eyes thoughtful—this Trumpet Peony laughed when her husband was killed, laughed when she was captured, laughed when her young son would die, and laughed when forced to lure her son across the river to his death.

She had laughed while remaining at the precarious royal court after the old king’s death, laughed while flirting with the Jinpeng Tribe chieftain after being captured to gain lax supervision, laughed while pretending to be coerced when actually notifying her son to escape. She faced everything with laughter, never thinking about her own life or death.

During this time, with the old king assassinated, the heir abroad, and all tribes plunged into bloody struggle, the royal court’s royal army had not fallen into chaos but maintained complete organization waiting for Helian Zheng’s return—whose achievement was this?

Feng Zhiwei looked at her thick powder, vulgar makeup, and crude manners, slowly smiled, placed her hand on the woman’s hand, and said softly, “The Grand Consort has worked hard.”

Liu Mudan froze for a moment. For an instant, the smile on her face became somewhat stiff, then relaxed as before. She tossed the well-fed Gu Zhixiao aside, exaggeratedly spreading her arms wide, laughing loudly, “Good daughter-in-law, you know I’ve worked hard!”

Feng Zhiwei extended her arms and received her embrace.

The woman buried her face in Feng Zhiwei’s shoulder, her intense, vulgar fragrance overwhelming, making one’s nose itch. Feng Zhiwei rubbed her nose—not because of the itch, but because it was slightly sore.

For that instant, the tent was quiet. The noisy chattering and laughter disappeared. The posture of the two women embracing lightly conveyed understanding and concern.

She only buried her face in Feng Zhiwei’s shoulder for a moment before immediately raising it. Peony Flower still wore that same carefree smile.

Feng Zhiwei’s gaze, intentionally or not, swept across her own shoulder, where there was a barely visible damp mark.

Outside the tent came the thunderous sound of distant hoofbeats.

“Let’s go.” Feng Zhiwei took her hand, and they smiled at each other.

Two women of different personalities but equally extraordinary stepped toward the tent entrance to meet the ten thousand zhang of golden light, facing the rumbling grassland cavalry.

In the second month on the grasslands, the wind still carried frost and snow’s cold. When tens of thousands of iron cavalry flew forth with harsh wind, the entire grassland seemed to shake, shaking loose countless frost and snow from grass tips.

When Feng Zhiwei exited the tent, Helian Zheng waiting outside made her eyes light up.

A seven-treasure golden crown topped with silver fox fur, the fox bristles’ silver light and gold’s golden light shining together. A black sable and gold thread great cloak, seven-colored layered embroidered boots, golden brocade long robe, black-tasseled gold button fastenings, a belt studded with coral, jade, and agate carving out a tight, powerful waist. On the waist, an antique bronze jade-inlaid waist knife and hanging amber snuff bottle constantly struck each other as he walked, producing clear sounds.

This made his handsome features even more striking—his amber-colored eyes rich as wine, his deep purple hue profound as an abyss, glittering like colorful gemstones. Compared to his usual single blue robe with buttons never properly fastened, he was truly magnificently gorgeous to the point of dazzling.

“People really must wear proper clothes…” Feng Zhiwei murmured to herself.

Helian Zheng watched her eyes light up with delight, happily waiting for her praise, when he suddenly heard this statement. Half his face darkened.

What kind of comment was that? Did she think he usually didn’t wear clothes?

He’d be willing to display himself without clothes before her—would she be willing?

But Feng Zhiwei had already smilingly linked her arm through his. When her arm so gently threaded through his elbow, Helian Zheng’s heart felt soaked in warm water, softening until he didn’t know what day or time it was. All the complaints in his belly immediately vanished into thin air.

Peony Flower, not to be outdone, forcefully tried to hook her son’s other arm, only to be kicked by her son in disgust. “Get lost, crazy woman!”

“Ungrateful wretch! Jigou’er!” Liu Mudan cursed as she went to smack her son’s head.

In front of the tent was a small hill blocking the royal court’s royal army’s line of sight. The mother and son chased and fought their way past the small hill.

The moment they just turned around.

Helian Zheng swooshed to support his mother.

Liu Mudan swooshed to lower the hand she’d raised to hit Helian Zheng, moving it to her temples, gracefully smoothing her hair with elegant bearing.

By the time the party of three turned past the hill and appeared before ten thousand troops, what the Huozhuo royal army saw was the gorgeously formal young Prince of Shunyi, the dignified, smiling old Princess Consort of Shunyi, just like many times before, mother and son affectionate, walking hand in hand, appearing solemnly before ten thousand troops.

Oh, there was one more person.

Everyone secretly turned their gazes toward the Han woman in their king’s arm.

Ah! Yellow face! Ah! Thin and weak! Ah! Small hips! Ah! Narrow waist! Ah! Lacking the previous Grand Consort’s magnificently proud grassland-dominating chest! Ah! Without sufficient milk, how would the next generation’s heir lead them galloping across the grasslands?

Disappointment floated in the grassland men’s eyes.

Nothing satisfactory anywhere!

Eight Biao grinned with their bloody mouths on the side—serves you right for that attitude, serves you right for those expressions, serves you right for being dissatisfied—damn bunch of lambs, just you wait.

Grassland men’s gazes had always been unbridled. Moreover, with Liu Mudan—such a generous Grand Consort who not only didn’t mind being looked at but feared people wouldn’t look—preceding her, they looked at Feng Zhiwei like wolves and tigers, while waiting for that timid, delicate interior Han woman to be looked into tears. In the past many times when the interior emperor bestowed Han women upon the old king, they had, under the Grand Consort’s instruction, looked those Han women into tears, into fainting, into running away just like this.

Looking and looking, looking and looking…

They were disappointed.

No matter how she was looked at, Feng Zhiwei remained indifferent, gazing down upon the iron-armored, killing-aura-filled fierce royal army like looking at a group of cats raised in her own courtyard—the kind with claws trimmed specifically for her to pamper.

After the grassland men looked for a while, they had to admit that even though that woman didn’t meet any of their requirements, standing there beside the fierce Grand Consort and the king, her expression calm, her gaze lofty, however one looked at her, she seemed not a bit inferior to their naturally noble king.

She smiled with hands folded at her abdomen, her upright standing posture reminding one of a proud trumpet creeper growing from a cliff face.

Helian Zheng had remained silent all along, with a proud smile, watching Feng Zhiwei meet his unruly royal army for the first time and, with the broad, dignified bearing of one person, overwhelm ten thousand troops.

Then he turned his head and let out a furious roar.

“Have you seen enough!”

The mighty roar infused with true energy, like rolling thunder sweeping across the grasslands, instantly jolted awake the tens of thousands of cavalry who’d been staring intensely. They looked toward Helian Zheng somewhat dazedly with awe.

This was their heir, now their king. Before going to the Imperial Capital as a hostage last year, he had been their brother, serving as an assistant commander under the royal tent’s Golden Lion Battalion. He ate, slept, enjoyed leisure, and hunted with them. At bonfire festivals he’d wrestle with them in embraces. In summer they’d bathe naked together. In winter they’d hunt together on the perilous Halin Snow Mountain, sharing the freshest roasted bear paws together.

This was the magnanimous, cheerful heir in their memory, with a touch of roguishness. If he lost a hunting bet, he’d roll however many times told, but absolutely refused to pay up.

Unlike the brilliant, divine, lofty old king, because the heir was more approachable, he lacked a certain majesty in their hearts. Now with the royal court in turbulent crisis, with most of the Golden Lion Battalion warriors sent to the Tiansheng-Great Yue battlefield killed, the strength of the elite troops of the direct Huozhuo Yin’erji bloodline sharply reduced, with the Yin’erji clan apparently unable to hold onto these distant pastures and golden throne, each cavalry warrior’s heart therefore carried a share of uncertain bewilderment and anxiety.

Then they were awakened by this thunderbolt-like shout.

“Put away your foolish eyes that only know how to look at women!” Helian Zheng pointed ahead. “Look at the thousand-mile grasslands behind you! Look clearly—under the great snow north of Dong’e Pass, the four thousand Golden Lion Battalion warriors, their bones forever scattered across the wilderness with no one to bury them! Look clearly—south of Dong’e Pass in the royal court, Kuku Yin’erji who died violently in his tent. Thirty years ago he led your fathers to defeat the Huozhuo Jinpeng Tribe, the Golden Lion flag planted across the northern and southern grasslands. Thirty years later he died upright on his throne, while your fathers and brothers lie buried beyond the pass. Hongjile Jinpeng’s betrayal has already trampled the Golden Lion flag, killed your king, stepped on your brothers’ bones, used your flag to wipe his boots—and you still have the face to appear before me holding this flag? Why don’t you hurry home and use your wives’ waist sashes to strangle your own necks?”

“Aooo—” Eight Biao suddenly let out a desolate howl together, like lone wolves on snow mountains crying blood toward the moon.

“Aooo—” The tens of thousands of cavalry, scolded until they all hung their heads, countless people crying aloud. Grassland men were all warriors—most of those who died on the Great Yue battlefield in the Golden Lion Battalion were their fathers and brothers.

“Cry for me! Cry hard! However many tears you shed today, tomorrow Hongjile Jinpeng and all those beasts who betrayed us will shed that much blood!” Helian Zheng’s face was iron-blue, his features cold and severe as unmelting ice rocks on snow mountains. With a wave of his hand.

A sack was heavily thrown before the army. The sack wasn’t tied shut, and countless bloody ears rolled out.

“Just last night, the Pixiu Tribe colluded with the Jinpeng Tribe to cause chaos, attempting to coerce the Grand Consort to assassinate this king.” Helian Zheng said coldly. “I have already sent their entire clan to meet the Eternal Blue Sky.”

Entire clan!

The warriors’ mouths fell open, tears flowing into their mouths.

The Huozhuo Twelve Tribes, strictly speaking, shared the same ancestor. Although after many generations of intermarriage and mixed residence they’d split into countless branches, there had always been an unwritten rule on the grasslands—no matter how they fought and killed, they could not exterminate clans. They must leave seeds for each surname to pass down through generations.

Thirty years ago, when Old King Kuku campaigned across the northern and southern grasslands to merge the Huozhuo Twelve Tribes, he had slaughtered the most rebellious Jinpeng Tribe until blood flowed like rivers, yet still left behind Hongjile Jinpeng, who was only ten years old at the time.

Thirty years later, Hongjile Jinpeng betrayed them. Four thousand Yin’erji direct lineage warriors died on the Great Yue battlefield. Old King Kuku was assassinated. Yet Hongjile Jinpeng still didn’t dare to immediately exterminate the Yin’erji clan.

Unexpectedly, what neither Old King Kuku nor Hongjile Jinpeng had dared to do was done first by this new king who often loved to smile.

“All sins must be washed clean with blood. The Yin’erji clan accepts no betrayal.” Helian Zheng said grimly. “The Pixiu Tribe is only the first. I don’t care if there needs to be a second. Whoever touches my people, I’ll exterminate their clan—” He suddenly raised his arm and roared furiously, “Hongjile Jinpeng, wait for this old man to fuck your mother!”

“Hongjile Jinpeng, wait for this old man to fuck your mother!” With a resounding clang, long blades were raised diagonally, blade light forcing back the brilliant sunlight. Tens of thousands of people’s mighty roar swept across the grasslands like a violent storm, as if a sudden whirlwind had risen, startling the gray eagles resting on distant stone mountains into strange cries, crashing headlong into the azure sky!

Seizing them with spirit, igniting them with grief, insulting them with words, shocking them with extermination.

He forced out from these still-bewildered cavalry’s deepest hearts the long-hidden grief, fury, iron, and blood.

“Clash!”

Horse spurs collided, iron armor rang. Tens of thousands dismounted in perfect unison, long blades held horizontally across their palms, prostrating on the ground, their voices resounding like thunder.

“King!”

Just this one word.

A huge red sun suddenly leaped boldly from beyond the horizon, instantly illuminating a thousand miles with brilliant light, blazing fiercely.

In ten thousand zhang of radiance, Helian Zheng’s robes billowed, grave as a mountain.

In ten thousand zhang of radiance, Peony Flower’s last trace of worry faded from her eyes. She let out a long breath, revealing a smile truly comparable to peony flowers in brilliant, dazzling pride.

“Hongjile Jinpeng still has considerable cunning.” On horseback, Feng Zhiwei said to Helian Zheng. “From the moment you entered Huozhuo Twelve Tribes territory, his offensive began. First using the Grand Consort to force you to cross the river—even if you crossed safely, the Pixiu and Jinpeng tribes’ warriors were waiting to kill you. Even if they couldn’t kill you, presumably you’d be quite bedraggled with considerable losses. At that point when the royal army came to meet you, whether such a bedraggled king could be acknowledged by the unruly royal army would be questionable. You must know, although the royal army all belong under the Golden Lion clan, among them are many who are branches of White Deer, Blue Bird, and Fire Fox. If you weren’t careful, you might have remained permanently on the opposite bank.”

“Yes.” Helian Zheng admitted quite frankly. “On the grasslands, the victor becomes king. There are no fixed rules. Moreover at the royal court, I heard my various distant and close branch brothers are also competing fiercely, each with their own forces. If I couldn’t subdue the royal army, I couldn’t even leave Pixiu Tribe territory.”

“Even subduing them now, in future struggles, if you can’t keep satisfying them, I think it’s also uncertain.” Feng Zhiwei smiled, chewing a grass stem slowly, tasting its slightly bitter flavor.

“I’m not stronger than anyone else in anything.” Helian Zheng said very humbly yet proudly. “My only advantage is that the Grand Consort supports me.”

Feng Zhiwei paused. On the grasslands, women ultimately had no status. Could Peony Flower really have such important influence?

“This crazy woman is a heaven-sent child. Lama Dama said she’s our grassland’s guardian deity.” Helian Zheng said with both exasperation and amusement. “Heh! Guardian deity! But Trumpet Flower really does have her strengths. When my father-king picked her up on the battlefield, in the end it was she who saved his life, carrying him off the battlefield, leading the royal tent’s personal guards out alive together, which led to the later Golden Lion prosperity. So Trumpet Flower on the grasslands is indeed the undisputed Grand Empress Dowager.”

“Lucky your fate is hard,” Feng Zhiwei joked. “Otherwise if any random younger brother had survived, perhaps the situation would be different.”

The person beside her suddenly fell silent. Feng Zhiwei turned her head in surprise and saw Helian Zheng’s lips pressed tightly together, his eyes floating with purple light, flickering with strange brilliance.

“No… actually…” After a long while, he slowly said.

“Report!”

A shout interrupted his words. The cavalry rider galloping over, though maintaining a calm expression, had a slightly panicked tone.

“Hongjile Jinpeng today summoned the lords of the Twelve Tribes to establish the Huozhuo Golden Alliance at Binggu River!”

Helian Zheng’s face turned iron-hard. His first question was, “Did all the lords go?”

“The White Deer and Blue Bird tribe lords didn’t go. They remain guarding the royal court.”

Helian Zheng’s expression relaxed slightly as he nodded.

“The Fire Fox Tribe… went,” the warrior said in a low voice. “The Golden Lion Tribe… also sent someone.”

Helian Zheng’s face changed drastically. “Who went?”

“Kuercha Yin’erji.”

Helian Zheng fell silent for a long while, then waved his hand indicating the warrior should withdraw.

His expression was grave, silent and speechless. Feng Zhiwei didn’t disturb him, only signaling Zong Chen to gather her people closer.

“The Huozhuo Golden Alliance is historically held when the clan guarding the royal court lacks sufficient power to rule the grasslands. Under these circumstances, if other tribes have enough strength, they can propose and, with the agreement of more than half the lords of the Twelve Tribes, convene this alliance. Such an alliance generally serves to re-determine the grassland’s master, redistribute power, and… expel the former king.” After a while, Helian Zheng explained to her.

“Who is Kuercha Yin’erji?”

“He’s my blood uncle. His bloodline is even purer than my father-king’s. My father-king was born of a concubine, but he’s the legitimate wife’s son.” Helian Zheng said. “But for many years he’s had no complaints, utterly loyal to father-king. Father-king always felt indebted to him, so after accepting the court’s Prince of Shunyi title, he gave him the Golden Lion clan chief position. He also controls the Golden Lion’s twenty thousand troops—he’s the person with the most power in the Yin’erji clan besides father-king.”

“How much power can you muster now?”

“The Yin’erji’s most elite Golden Lion Battalion—many died on the Great Yue battlefield. Now the royal army has less than twenty thousand. White Deer and Blue Bird each have ten thousand. The key problem is the Yin’erji clan cannot have internal warfare, or they’ll never recover. White Deer and Blue Bird won’t participate in Yin’erji internal warfare either. That means I have twenty thousand against uncle’s twenty thousand.”

“Truly evenly matched.” Feng Zhiwei laughed coldly. “I just don’t understand—participating in this Golden Alliance to overthrow Yin’erji rule, what benefit is there for him?”

“Under me, he’ll forever be just a powerless clan chief, holding troops but unable to move them. Once I’m expelled, he becomes the Yin’erji clan’s true number one. Both sides’ forces combine under him alone. Even if the Jinpeng Tribe is currently powerful, he can still firmly occupy second place, claim good pastures, rule as king in his own territory. Why not?”

“Good calculation, excellent calculation.” Feng Zhiwei praised leisurely.

“Hongjile truly has one move following another.” Helian Zheng smiled bitterly. “I originally planned to first return to the royal court to suppress my restless distant and close branch brothers, then fight the Jinpeng Tribe properly. Now he’s preempted me with this move, invoking the Golden Alliance dormant for thirty years, wanting to subdue the enemy without battle. Once the lords of the Twelve Tribes vote to depose me, I’ll have to tuck my tail and flee.”

“I’m not fleeing with you.” Feng Zhiwei smiled lightly.

“I’m not fleeing with you either.” Eavesdropper Peony Flower appeared out of nowhere. “I’ll go be Hongjile Jinpeng’s Grand Consort. You can do whatever you want.”

“Haha.” Helian Zheng looked at this pair of differently styled but equally fierce “mother-in-law and daughter-in-law,” suddenly feeling his spirits lighten, all worries swept clean. His left hand pulled his mother’s horse, his right hand pulled Feng Zhiwei’s reins, spitting toward the front, laughing, “What the hell flee? Just for this mother and this wife, Helian Zheng will crawl to Binggu River if he has to!”

Feng Zhiwei smiled, looking skyward as if she hadn’t heard.

Peony Flower beamed with joy. “Son! You finally had a conscience for once—your mother’s ruined nipples from your sucking weren’t in vain…”

“Bang!”

The Grand Empress Dowager was once again flipped by her son who’d just expressed filial piety, landing in the mud…

At Binggu River’s banks, twelve golden-topped large tents surrounded the central purple felt giant tent. Blazing bonfires burned on all four sides. Countless warriors wielding long spears and short blades patrolled and guarded with strict vigilance.

This was a barren land on the grasslands, a power vacuum among the Twelve Tribes’ territories. Historically when the Twelve Tribes had matters requiring assembly but didn’t trust going to each other’s territories, they would meet here.

Outside the tent, the snow was brilliant white. The frozen earth where not a blade of grass grew made crunching sounds underfoot. Inside the tent, fire stoves provided warmth, as warm as spring.

“I heard Zhadalanyin’erji crossed Changshui last night,” a thin old man leaned forward to ask a pale-faced man. “Hongjile, there won’t be any unexpected developments, will there?”

The pale-faced man smiled coldly. Though this person had ordinary features, his eyes when they opened and closed shot forth brilliant light, inspiring awe. This was precisely the Jinpeng Tribe chieftain Hongjile Motetu, who had single-handedly caused thousands of Yin’erji warriors to die on the battlefield and Old King Kuku to die violently.

Regarding Kuercha Yin’erji’s inquiry, he merely said indifferently, “Even the fiercest young bird cannot match an eagle that’s always soared in the sky.”

Knowing laughter rose in the tent.

“Such a wet-behind-the-ears brat probably got scared out of his wits just seeing the welcoming royal army!”

“At Binggu River here, he’ll definitely take a detour.”

“The Yin’erji clan has no hope in this generation.”

Kuercha Yin’erji looked somewhat embarrassed, his expression not good. Hongjile immediately said, “This generation of Yin’erji is finished, but there’s still the previous generation’s hero—our Kuercha was the Yin’erji clan’s number one warrior back in the day!”

Kuercha smiled somewhat awkwardly, thinking to himself when was he ever crowned any “number one warrior”? Though he had been crowned “number one fool” by that woman Liu Mudan.

“I wonder what kind of beauty that Shengying Princess the court bestowed in marriage to Zhadalanyin will be?” Suddenly someone said in a slow, almost dreamlike tone amidst a group of crude, mocking voices. “Shengying… Shengying… truly a beautiful name.”

“Klie!” Someone tossed him a roasted sheep leg. “Only thinking without doing isn’t the true nature of grassland men. With your reputation as the grassland’s number one handsome man, that whatever Yingying, upon seeing you, won’t she immediately throw herself into your arms?”

With a disdainful wave of his sleeve, he brushed the sheep leg to the ground. The man in fire-red robes on the felt carpet sat up, frowning. “You’re so dirty.”

When he sat up, his full head of long hair flowed down—surprisingly platinum white hair, extremely rare. In the firelight it truly gleamed like platinum. Yet that flowing moonlight hair color couldn’t match the bewitching allure of his eyes—like a silver fox walking among thousand-mile ice caps on absolute peaks, spring returning across ten thousand miles with a single turn of his head.

His slightly upturned brows seemed painted with an ink brush, a beautiful arc that could not be increased or decreased, strikingly charming on his crystal-clear, almost transparent skin.

Silver hair, red robes, infinite dazzling radiance.

“If you ask me.” He lazily took the hand of a serving woman beside him, slowly playing with her fingers. “I’m not interested in your land divisions and such. Just give me that Shengying Princess to play with when the time comes.”

“Done!” Hongjile laughed loudly. “It’s just that she’s a princess after all. You can’t play her to death like before.”

“Why not?” Klie blinked, saying bewilderedly. “Interior women marry chicken follow chicken, marry dog follow dog. If she were really some important princess, would she be married off to the grasslands? Don’t worry, her status only follows Zhadalanyin. If Zhadalanyin isn’t king, she’s not Grand Consort. If she’s not Grand Consort, why can’t I play her to death?”

Hongjile chuckled. “As you wish, as you wish.” He glanced at Klie, not planning to argue with him. This youngster was the youngest among the Twelve Tribes’ chieftains, yet also the most cunning and ruthless—truly sly as a fox and venomous as a snake. A female slave’s son ranked last in birth order, he eventually became clan chief. In the process of becoming clan chief, his father, mother, brothers, sisters… not one survived.

Better to keep some distance. At least he, Hongjile, was still a normal person.

Klie continued smiling as he caressed the slave woman’s fingers, saying dreamily, “Once I have her, I want to play with her properly… I hear interior women have slender, delicate hands, ten fingers like green onions. I wonder what kind of beauty that is… Ah, these fingers of yours from holding pitchers, milking sheep, sweeping dung… so coarse and rough… truly disappointing…”

The word “truly” had barely left his mouth when a faint crack could be heard.

Before the slave woman’s “Ah” could emerge, Klie was smilingly picking up the sheep leg that had rolled on the ground, stuffing it into her mouth.

During the five words “truly disappointing,” five faint cracks sounded consecutively. The slave woman whose face had been flushed with color moments ago was now deathly pale, tears and mucus flowing freely, unable to sit any longer. Trembling all over, she prostrated on the ground. Her fingers held in Klie’s hand had become five soft, strangely shaped things, which Klie, his expression utterly calm, kneaded and squeezed. Faintly could be heard the sound of shattered bone joints grinding together—chilling to hear in the silence.

The chieftains exchanged glances. Kuercha said with difficulty, “Klie, you really know how to kill the mood at any time… If you want that whatever Shengying, we’ll give her to you—”

“Bang!”

Something suddenly crashed in, landing heavily on Hongjile’s table, flattening the roasted whole lamb before him. The golden knife stuck in the lamb strangely leaped up, swooshing straight toward Hongjile’s eyes.

At the same moment, four voices rang out simultaneously.

“Who the fuck is looking to die wanting my Grand Consort?” Mighty and filled with killing intent.

“Who’s looking to die wanting my daughter-in-law?” Shrill and enormously loud.

“Who? Looking to die?” Dry and most succinct.

The last one was a calm, composed voice even carrying a trace of smiling intent.

“Klie, my apologies. Your fox stench is too overpowering—this Grand Consort doesn’t dare want you.”