The nobles and ministers had departed, leaving the long corridor empty. The monk soldier lifted the felt curtain, gesturing for Yaoying to enter.

As Yaoying entered the hall, a wave of warm air hit her face. The chamber was carpeted – her feet sank soundlessly into the soft fabric.

Bisuo waited for her beneath the felt curtain, rubbing his hands together, his expression quietly excited.

Yaoying asked in confusion: “What has happened?”

Bisuo smiled: “The Northern Rong is in chaos!”

Yaoying raised her head in surprise, her fingers trembling slightly, her heart pounding.

Had Haidu Aling launched his rebellion?

As Bisuo led Yaoying inside, he said softly: “News arrived this morning – the Northern Rong Khan has moved his camp to Woluduo.”

Yaoying pressed her lips together.

Woluduo meant “palace tent” in the Turkic language. Previously, Khan Wahan had named a mud-walled city Woluduo, but it was just a place for raising cattle and horses, far inferior to Yizhou. Wherever the Khan’s camp was located became the Northern Rong’s royal court. Why had Khan Wahan suddenly moved camp?

Bisuo’s eyes shone with barely contained excitement: “They say Haidu Aling returned to Yizhou, gravely wounded Khan Wahan, and replaced him as the new Khan. That’s why Khan Wahan fled to Woluduo!”

After Haidu Aling’s return to Northern Rong, the royal family was bound to erupt in turmoil – brothers fighting brothers, kinsmen turning against each other. At best, both sides would be wounded; at worst, everything would fall apart.

Yet the Northern Rong had been unusually quiet lately, with no news leaking out. Though the royal court kept sending scouts, they couldn’t discover anything. Bisuo had been impatient – if Tanmoluojia hadn’t forbidden it, he would have gone to Northern Rong himself.

Now news had arrived that Haidu Aling and the princes had turned their weapons on each other, with unknown casualties. Khan Wahan was gravely wounded and had fled in panic to Woluduo, while the Northern Rong nobles had elected Haidu Aling as the new Khan.

Bisuo took malicious pleasure in it: Northern Rong’s chaos meant an opportunity for the royal court.

Yaoying’s eyes flickered as she asked: “Then why were your country’s ministers arguing just now?”

If it was that simple, why would those ministers have been shouting and cursing so angrily?

Bisuo’s shoulders slumped, his smile freezing at the corners of his mouth. His brows furrowed slightly as he said: “The King won’t allow the ministers to send troops to attack Northern Rong.”

When news of Northern Rong’s chaos reached the royal court, the ministers had put aside Sudan Gu’s “funeral matters” and volunteered to fight. Tanmoluojia had rejected them. The ministers were dissatisfied, rolling up their sleeves, pounding the table and drawing their swords, demanding immediate deployment against Northern Rong. Tanmoluojia firmly refused. The ministers flew into a rage, arguing back and forth, but Tanmoluojia remained unmoved. The ministers stormed off in anger.

Yaoying suddenly understood why she had heard people berating Tanmoluojia as timid as a mouse and weak-willed.

Past the screen, wisps of smoke rose from the incense burner, slowly releasing a faint fragrance.

The hall was quiet except for the soft scratching of a pen tip on parchment. Tanmoluojia was bent over his desk writing, wearing a loose crimson kasaya. Daylight filtered into the tent, creating a shimmering halo around his kasaya that emphasized his thin frame and deep-set eyes, seeming to wrap him in Buddha’s light.

The ministers’ street-vendor-like arguing and shouting from earlier now seemed like Yaoying’s imagination.

Hearing footsteps, Tanmoluojia didn’t pause his writing. After finishing a complete line of sutra text, he set down his pen and gestured for Yaoying and Bisuo to be seated.

Yaoying moved closer, kneeling before the long desk, and presented the Northern Rong delegation’s confessions.

Tanmoluojia took them.

Yaoying’s gaze fell on the string of bodhi beads wrapped around his wrist. The beads appeared ordinary in style, looking dull from a distance as if old and worn. But up close, each bodhi bead was a faint greyish-white, round and cool like concentrated moonlight.

Tanmoluojia finished reading the confessions and passed them to Bisuo.

Bisuo skimmed through them quickly and sneered: “So the Northern Rong delegation was indeed up to no good with all their sneaking around. Let’s detain them first and see how Northern Rong explains this.”

According to the confessions, Princess Yiqing using Zhu Lüyun to persuade Yaoying was just a front – their real goal was to use Yaoying to get close to the Royal Temple and find an opportunity to harm Tanmoluojia.

Bisuo cursed quietly in the tribal language, put down the confessions, and looked directly at Tanmoluojia.

“King, since Northern Rong is in chaos and still trying to assassinate you, why don’t we take this chance to attack them?”

Instead of answering, Tanmoluojia asked: “Has there been any unusual activity detected around Sand City?”

Bisuo shook his head: “Northern Rong hasn’t harassed Sand City’s defenders recently. I thought it was because the heavy snow and ice made it difficult for them to gather supplies and their cavalry couldn’t penetrate deep into the desert. Now it seems it must be because Northern Rong is in such chaos that their cavalry has become so docile!”

Tanmoluojia remained silent, his eyes signaling for the guard in the corner to bring the sand table.

Yaoying immediately stood to withdraw, but a gaze fell upon her.

Tanmoluojia looked at her and shook his head.

Yaoying met his eyes, puzzled. They were discussing troop deployment – shouldn’t she leave?

Tanmoluojia gestured for her to look at the sand table on the desk.

Yaoying had no choice but to sit back down. She recognized that the sand and gravel on the table roughly depicted the terrain of the Onion Range and Tianshan Mountains north and south. The northern region was just a flat expanse of yellow sand with no markings, possibly representing the royal court and its affiliated tribes. The southern terrain was detailed, showing from west to east: Shule, Kucha, Yanqi, Gaochang, and Yizhou. Zhu Lüyun had come from Yizhou, where Northern Rong’s current royal court was located.

The sand table revealed nothing about the royal court’s information.

Yaoying felt reassured – Tanmoluojia was thoughtful and wouldn’t put her in an awkward position.

Beside them, Bisuo was so anxious he was practically scratching his head. After staring at the sand table for a long while, he asked: “What is the King worried about?”

Tanmoluojia calmly took out several pieces of parchment: “These were intercepted from Northern Rong scouts.”

Bisuo took the parchments, glanced through them, and his face lit up.

Yaoying took the parchments from his hand. After reading them, her brows furrowed slightly.

These were calls for help from Northern Rong. The letters were written by several Northern Rong princes, addressed to Northern Rong princesses in Gaochang, Kucha, and other places, as well as tribal chiefs in the northern desert. The princes were requesting troops to aid Khan Wahan.

“The news is true – Haidu Aling has rebelled!”

Bisuo was overjoyed, but then confused: if they had intercepted these calls for help confirming the scouts’ reports, why was Luojia still hesitant to deploy troops?

Yaoying’s reaction was completely different from his. She remained silent, deep in thought.

Bisuo gritted his teeth and said: “King, these letters prove that Haidu Aling attempted to assassinate Khan Wahan. Northern Rong wouldn’t move camp so hastily without reason! They must be in complete chaos – now is the perfect time to attack them! Please allow me to lead the troops into battle!”

Bisuo’s face was full of eagerness.

Tanmoluojia’s expression remained calm: “What if these letters are fake?”

Bisuo’s whole body shook as his mouth fell open, his hands trembling.

Tanmoluojia’s slender finger pointed at the sand table: “Yizhou connects to the grasslands. Khan Wahan built his power in the northern desert – if he flees east, he can gather his scattered troops and grassland tribes to reclaim his position as Khan.”

“Look at where Woluduo is about Yizhou, and what it’s close to.”

Bisuo studied the sand table carefully, muttering: “Woluduo is to the northwest, close to the royal court’s eastern troops…”

That’s why the ministers were so restless – it was too close. Just deploying troops could trap the fleeing Khan Wahan. Who could resist such temptation?

Tanmoluojia turned to Yaoying and asked softly: “Princess, you understand Haidu Aling. Who do you think would prevail between Khan Wahan and Haidu Aling? Who controls Northern Rong at this moment – Khan Wahan or Haidu Aling?”

Yaoying hesitated.

Tanmoluojia said: “Please speak freely, Princess. Do not hold back.”

His tone was gentle as his jade-green eyes gazed steadily at her, Buddha-like.

Though his expression was neutral, it made her feel at ease.

Yaoying looked at him, gradually relaxing. After some thought, she honestly shared her view: “In my opinion, if Haidu Aling had won, he would immediately attack the royal court while his momentum was high. So, Northern Rong is likely still under Khan Wahan’s control.”

Beside them, Bisuo frowned, slowly calming down to ask: “Why is the Princess so certain?”

Yaoying explained slowly: “First, Haidu Aling is not of Northern Rong blood. If he truly became the new Khan, his urgent priority would be to establish military achievements and redirect conflicts. Otherwise, he cannot command respect. Even if unprepared, he must at least make a show of attacking and harassing the royal court to intimidate other competitors.”

Haidu Aling believed the best way to establish authority was to defeat the old Khan’s strongest rival, which was why in the book, he led troops to attack the royal court after becoming the new Khan.

“Second,” Yaoying continued, “Haidu Aling is arrogant and ambitious. Once he successfully seized the position of Khan, he would surely announce it to the world, preparing his troops and horses, hunting down the old Khan’s descendants, and preparing for conquest. There couldn’t possibly be no movement at all.”

“These are just my guesses,” Yaoying said. “The strangest thing is, news of the Regent’s death should have reached Northern Rong by now. Why would Haidu Aling let such a good opportunity pass?”

Bisuo froze, a flash of embarrassment crossing his face. He knew Sudan Gu was still “alive,” so he had almost forgotten about this point.

Khan Wahan was naturally cautious, especially when dealing with Tanmoluojia, always considering every angle. The Northern Rong nobles were full of complaints, grumbling that he had grown old and useless, that Tanmoluojia had frightened away his courage.

If Khan Wahan were truly dead, the impatient Northern Rong nobles would certainly launch a major attack on the royal court.

Now the Holy City was tense, with troops from all regions withdrawing back to the Holy City. It was an excellent opportunity to attack. If Haidu Aling were the new Khan, he would have already led the Northern Rong nobles to attack. Yet these days, no battle reports had reached the Holy City from Sand City.

Khan Wahan hadn’t lost his power.

Bisuo came out of his fervor, thinking of how agitated the ministers had been earlier, and broke into a cold sweat.

If they had rashly deployed troops, how could they possibly have matched Khan Wahan?

Bisuo rubbed his chin, his face full of disbelief: “Could all this be a trap set by Northern Rong? Are they deliberately showing weakness to lure our royal court into attacking, then catch us like turtles in a jar?”

Yaoying’s eyelids twitched as she said softly: “We must quickly notify Lord Yuchi. They don’t know it’s a trick and might send troops.”

Yuchi Damo harbored a deep hatred for Khan Wahan, who had once led troops to humiliate him.

Tanmoluojia said calmly: “The message has already been sent.”

His tone was peaceful, unhurried.

As if everything was within his expectations.

Yaoying was stunned. She exchanged glances with Bisuo, and the same realization struck them both.

Tanmoluojia’s patience and yielding these past few days weren’t just to lull the ministers – he was also testing Northern Rong’s reaction to deduce whether they were truly in chaos!

Bisuo finally understood, his mouth falling open: “King, when you had me constantly watching Sand City, you were waiting for news from Northern Rong? You knew from the beginning that Northern Rong wouldn’t be in chaos?”

Tanmoluojia nodded slightly: “Khan Wahan cannot be underestimated.”

Yaoying’s heart trembled.

The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting – first by strategy, then by diplomacy, and only then by military force. War wasn’t just about battlefield combat.

Tanmoluojia had been dealing with Khan Wahan since he was thirteen. To outsiders, it seemed they had only fought a few major battles before deciding victory, but no one knew how much effort went into each campaign.

His confrontation with Khan Wahan wasn’t just direct conflict on the battlefield, but a psychological chess game that had lasted over a decade.

Khan Wahan feared Tanmoluojia not just because he had lost to him on the battlefield when Tanmoluojia first emerged, but because over these years, Tanmoluojia had remained steadfast and composed, resolving crisis after crisis beyond the battlefield, while the old Khan had lost confidence in defeat, becoming suspicious and fearful.

Beyond the flash of swords on the battlefield, Tanmoluojia had to handle the difficulties posed by noble families, balance the court, and ensure his people were fed and clothed… Every order was a decision made after deep consideration, and every small decision could affect the entire situation.

Just like this time, another invisible war had played out between him and Khan Wahan.

One decision from either of them could mean the lives or deaths of thousands.

One could imagine how much pressure Tanmoluojia carried.

Enduring this day after day for ten years, no wonder his health was poor.

Yaoying sighed silently.

Beside her, Bisuo’s heart was racing as he slowly calmed down.

He had been focused on quick victory, on dealing with the court’s corruption and defeating Northern Rong who had long coveted the royal court. But Luojia considered much more, looking further ahead. The Gaochang journey might have seemed like just helping Princess Wenzhao to Bisuo, but to Luojia it was a small piece in the larger picture. Luojia had so much more to consider.

Bisuo let out a long breath. After serious thought, he said: “But this isn’t Khan Wahan’s style.”

Tanmoluojia replied: “Whose style it is doesn’t matter.”

What mattered was that the royal court couldn’t fall for the trap.

Bisuo’s mind suddenly cleared, and he nodded.

Master and servant reached an understanding.

Bisuo glanced at Yaoying, seeming to want to speak but holding back.

Yaoying smiled slightly and rose to take her leave.

Watching her silhouette disappear behind the felt curtain, Bisuo asked: “King, why didn’t you tell the ministers the truth?”

Tanmoluojia looked at the sutra he had been writing. “The time isn’t right yet.”

The ministers’ complaints still rang in their ears. Bisuo’s expression grew serious – it seemed Luojia planned to resolve internal troubles first, then deal with external threats.

This was different from before.

“Has the King truly made up his mind?” Bisuo asked softly.

As the monk soldiers removed the sand table, Tanmoluojia continued copying the sutra, his brushstrokes elegant, his calligraphy beautiful.

“Someone must resolve these problems.”

Bisuo was silent for a long while.

Though Luojia knew the outcome, he still chose to be the villain who would inevitably be hated, all to ensure the royal court’s lasting peace.

Bisuo closed his eyes briefly.

“The hawk was a gift from the King to Princess Wenzhao. Why did you have Yuanjue say it was from me?”

After this question, the hall fell quiet for a moment.

Tanmoluojia continued writing smoothly, his eyes lowered as he said: “Because it makes no difference – the hawk is a gift from the royal court to the Princess.”

Bisuo studied his expression carefully, lost in thought.

Just then, cries of alarm came from outside the hall.

Guards called out anxiously: “Princess Wenzhao! Quick, get away!”

A woman’s cry of pain could be heard.

Bisuo started, jumping to his feet. He hurriedly bowed to Tanmoluojia before rushing out of the hall.

Shadows moved under the corridor as guards and monk soldiers with spears crowded together, rushing toward the hawk perch in the corner. A powerful grey hawk spread its wings, repeatedly diving down, its sharp beak viciously pecking at the black hawk.

The black hawk wasn’t even half the size of the grey hawk and made no move to fight back. Yaoying stood between the two birds, flustered, watching the black hawk being pecked and crying out. She gathered the black hawk into her arms, turning her back to the grey hawk, carefully dodging.

The guards around them dared not harm the grey hawk, shouting to draw its attention.

The grey hawk’s gaze was fierce as it fixed on the black hawk in Yaoying’s arms. Its wings spread like a thundercloud charged with lightning as it dove again, talons hooked.

Yaoying held the black hawk tightly.

Bisuo’s brows knitted together as he rushed forward, reaching Yaoying in an instant.

“Garuda!”

At the hall entrance came a cold rebuke.

Tanmoluojia stood beneath the felt curtain, his kasaya billowing in the wind.

The grey hawk froze in mid-air.

The guards immediately stepped forward, lunging to firmly grasp the suddenly maddened grey hawk and carry it away.

Bisuo turned back, taking Yaoying’s hand and pushing up her sleeve. “Were you scratched?”

The hawk’s talons could pierce straight through the prey’s chest. She must have been hurt after being grabbed several times.

Yaoying quickly pulled her hand back, smiling. “I’m fine. My clothes are thick – it didn’t catch me.”

Bisuo’s movements halted.

Yaoying lowered her head to comfort the black hawk, which had been pecked several times and was quite frightened.

She examined it carefully and, finding no wounds, only some lost feathers, sighed in relief. “So the Buddha’s Son’s hawk is called Garuda.”

Bisuo didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He had expected her to curse at the grey hawk, but instead, she said this. Then something occurred to him and he raised his head to look toward the entrance.

The felt curtain had fallen – Tanmoluojia had already turned and gone back inside.