Aqini was a kingdom located on the central route—but in the past it had been used by the Grand Commander Hufeng as his seat, and its king’s heart was inclined toward the Eastern Di. Several years ago, with the Li dynasty having essentially withdrawn from the Western Regions, Hufeng, in order to better guard against the Kunling King and prevent any schemes from his rear, had moved his seat northward.

After Li Xuandu arrived and with decisive, thunderous methods swiftly regained control over Boluoguo, his power and prestige shook the central route. Under pressure, the Aqini king had publicly joined the other surrounding kingdoms in pledging allegiance—but in his heart he still hoped that Hufeng would regain dominance here. Upon receiving this command, he immediately dispatched a secret envoy northward to bring the news before the Eastern Di Grand Commander Hufeng.

The Eastern Di Grand Commander’s seat was located near the Jushi kingdom on the northern route, surrounded by fertile land and vast oases.

On this day, in the great tent, an Eastern Di man in his forties or fifties—dressed in the left-side-buttoned style with his hair in braids—listened as the interpreter finished reading the letter, and could contain himself no longer. He erupted in fury: “This Li upstart, relying on a few strokes of luck, has managed to establish himself here. And yet he is so outrageously arrogant—wanting to use some polo tournament to humiliate me? I will not let him have his way!”

This Eastern Di man was Hufeng. His deputy generals and thousand-commanders also wore expressions of fury, drawing their blades one and all and swearing to wipe out Li Xuandu and reclaim Boluoguo to wash away the humiliation.

Just as the crowd was urging Hufeng to issue the order at once and muster his forces to launch the attack, his younger brother grew somewhat uneasy and cautioned: “The Han people are always cunning. What if there is treachery behind this? Before we send out the troops, please think it through carefully, Grand Commander!”

This younger brother of Hufeng’s had in his youth studied under a Han scholar who had surrendered over to them, and was a prudent man by nature. Hufeng had always relied on him greatly. At these words, he stopped himself, signaled the crowd to be quiet, and after a moment’s reflection said: “It is common knowledge that Kunling and I do not get along. The Li upstart thinks that because I fear my rear flank, my elite forces dare not march south at this moment—and that this gives him the nerve to send out such a letter to the kingdoms, vainly proclaiming his military feats and trying to win over hearts and minds. He has calculated rightly that as long as the Kunling King is not removed, I cannot relax my guard for a single day. On that point his reckoning is correct. But he is far too arrogant. He has won just a few small battles since coming here and he already doesn’t take me seriously. How many troops does he truly have that can fight? Even if I send half my cavalry, dealing with that rabble of his would be more than sufficient!”

His words drew a chorus of flattery.

To be safe, Hufeng decided to send men disguised among others to travel with the Aqini king and reach Shuang clan city as soon as possible—under cover of participating in the polo tournament—and keep a close watch on Li Xuandu’s every move.

After arranging everything, he said with a laugh to his subordinates: “The Li upstart wants to hold this polo tournament? Let him hold it—let him enjoy himself for a few days first, no harm in that. Don’t the Han people have a saying: repay a man in his own coin. Last time he seized Boluoguo by surprise attack. This time around, I’ll pay him back in kind!”

…

Half a month later, the delegations of large and small kingdoms that had received the tournament invitation began arriving at Shuang clan city one after another with their retinues.

Among these kingdoms were Khotan, Shache, and Pishan from the southern route, as well as Boluoguo, Aqini, and others from the central route. Each delegation was led by a king, a prince, or a noble. Worried that their grandeur might be outshone by another kingdom’s, the delegations often numbered several hundred people apiece. In those days, the roads outside Shuang clan city were ceaseless with camels and horses going back and forth. The Protectorate had also set aside dedicated reception quarters in the city, and all the various arrangements—busy as they were—proceeded in good order and without confusion.

The day of the opening competition arrived. In front of the vast and level polo field that had been freshly prepared, in the span of half a month alone, a high platform had been erected. This platform was set aside as the place of honor for the leaders of the various kingdoms’ delegations. It was hung with the flags of every kingdom, while the great banner in the center representing the Li dynasty’s Protectorate rose highest of all, catching the wind, its shadow visible for li around.

In the morning, with a quarter of an hour still remaining before the Hour of the Snake, the platform was already filled with kings, princes, and nobles from the various kingdoms. Below the platform, the Protectorate’s soldiers wore resolute expressions and stern gazes. They stood in neat formation, helmets and armor gleaming, spears and shields in hand. Row upon row of battle banners blotted out the sky and covered the earth, making the atmosphere solemn and imposing.

At the Hour of the Snake, to the sound of a mighty rumble of war drums, the host Prince Qin Li Xuandu rode forward under the escort of a retinue of guards and appeared in everyone’s view.

All around the polo field, the soldiers dropped to one knee in unison, raising the arm that held the shield, then bringing it down heavily against the ground. The rhythmic thundering of shields striking earth greeted his arrival—a sound powerful and mighty that made hearts surge, as if one’s own heart might beat in time with it.

The representatives of the various kingdoms on the high platform rose to their feet.

Li Xuandu was dressed in gleaming new battle armor; the silver armored links flashed in the sunlight and set off the severity of his brow, making him look majestic as a god.

He strode up the high platform, took his position, then allowed a smile to show on his face. He signaled the kings, princes, and nobles behind him to take their seats, then raised both arms and pressed down, quieting the still-rumbling sound of shields below. In a clear, commanding voice he ordered the soldiers back to their positions. Once the whole field had gone quiet, he declared the tournament open.

Zhang Zhuo sat atop a tall, high-stepping steed, narrowed his eyes, and from a distance exchanged a hand signal with Weichi Shengde opposite him. Facing the sunlight overhead, as the fierce war drums suddenly erupted once more in his ears, he led the charge—at the head of a cavalry formation of nearly a thousand men—and galloped into the polo field.

Opposite him, Zhang Shishan likewise led his team forward to meet them. The two sides’ forces surged toward each other like a tide, weaving past one another beneath the high platform in a thundering rush, then circling the field at full gallop. Two thousand cavalry raised their voices in a unified battle cry; amid the ground-shaking sound of hoofbeats and the thunder of battle slogans filling the air, the archers and crossbowmen who had been hidden outside the field earlier also loosed their arrows. In an instant, ten thousand arrows arced through the air, forming a dense rain of shafts that swept, dark and overwhelming, over the polo field’s sky and drove toward the expanse of the Gobi beyond the fortress.

The spectacle was vast in scale and thunderous in momentum—enough to set the blood boiling and at the same time strike terror into the heart. Some of the rulers of the smaller kingdoms on the platform were so startled by the display that their expressions changed drastically, and they sat in agitated unease.

After the cavalry formation and the arrow formation, it still was not over. The soldiers continued to offer the honored guests on the platform a mounted skills display and a close-quarters combat drill by a thousand men. Only after this thorough and sweeping demonstration of martial might did the first match of the day finally begin.

The matchups were determined by draw. By a great coincidence, the first match was between Khotan and Shache. These two large kingdoms of the southern route had been old adversaries and had even come to blows in the past. Though both had now pledged allegiance to Li Xuandu, in this kind of setting, who was willing to show weakness in public? Both sides not only fielded their finest teams, but the Khotan prince Weichi Shengde personally led his side onto the field.

The horses crossed and wove on the field; the competition was fierce. On the high platform, Li Xuandu took his seat and, while watching the match, chatted and laughed with the elderly Khotan king and the Boluoguo king beside him, commenting on the polo match in progress.

The splendor of the day was clearly to his great satisfaction.

When the match ended, Khotan lost to Shache and was defeated. But the Khotan prince Weichi Shengde was quite sportsmanlike and admitted the loss graciously. Facing the pleased Shache people, he did not show a trace of resentment. Still craving more, he opened his mouth to invite Li Xuandu to play a match with his team and ask him to offer some pointers on their polo technique.

Li Xuandu accepted the invitation with pleasure. On the spot he removed his battle garb, took the field in person, and led a team to play against the Khotan team for more sport. His superb polo skill drew cheers from the whole field. Each time he scored, he galloped around the field, basking in the crowd’s acclamation—looking about with evident self-satisfaction, he cut a spectacular figure.

The next day the matches continued, and Prince Qin once again stole the show from all the others on the polo field, the most eye-catching figure of the whole gathering.

His brilliance continued through the third day.

On this day the tournament entered a new stage. Of the original dozen or more polo teams, after two days of competition the weaker ones had been eliminated, leaving six remaining.

According to the plan arranged beforehand, today’s competition was suspended and only a single polo match for entertainment purposes would be held. One side would be drawn from the teams eliminated over the previous two days—selecting the best players among them and combining them into a joint team—with Prince Qin personally leading this side. The other side’s players would come from the six victorious teams.

Such an arrangement, aside from providing entertainment, also served another purpose: to give those polo experts from the various kingdoms—including Weichi Shengde—who had been knocked out of the tournament early, a chance to recover their honor. Moreover, not only would Prince Qin himself formally take the field today, leading his team in person, but the Princess Consort—who had not made an appearance in the first few days—also made a special exception today, appearing publicly alongside Prince Qin to cheer for the players. When Prince Qin took the field, she would be seated on the high platform; her beautiful features and noble bearing drew countless upward gazes, making the atmosphere of the polo field grow even more fervent.

Once the match began, Prince Qin’s brilliant polo skill lived up to expectations and did not disappoint. Wave after wave of cheers rolled outward—yet no one had anticipated that, at the peak of the excitement, when the match was midway through, an accident occurred.

Prince Qin was competing for a ball when his mount collided head-on with an oncoming horse.

Such collisions were common in the heat of polo; they were not ordinarily a serious matter. But unexpectedly, his horse—perhaps having taken a blow directly to the eye—went suddenly berserk on the spot. It stumbled and collapsed to the ground.

This was an extremely dangerous situation. When a horse at full gallop toppled to the ground, if it brought the rider down with it and pinned him beneath, even if the person escaped death, serious injury was almost inevitable.

Fortunately, Prince Qin was a horseman of exceptional skill. At precisely the moment the horse was about to pin him beneath it, he threw himself clear of the saddle with lightning agility and rolled to one side, evading that initial danger. But misfortune seldom comes alone—just as he had barely rolled free and had not yet managed to get up from the ground, a yellow-dun horse came charging from behind.

The rider of the yellow-dun horse was the Aqini prince, who today was on the winning team. Since the start of the match, he had been throwing everything he had into the game in hopes of showing off before the Princess Consort—who was beautiful as a goddess—but he had kept getting hemmed in. He had only just barely broken free of his opponents and was giving chase without regard for anything else, when he spotted Li Xuandu on the ground. By the time he tried to rein in his horse, it was already out of control. The horse’s hoof came down without swerving—and landed squarely on his chest.

Li Xuandu’s face twisted in pain. He curled up where he lay on the ground, unable to rise.

The entire field was stunned by the sudden scene. Then an uproar broke out.

The men nearby quickly dismounted and rushed to his side to assess his injury. Ye Xiao, Zhang Zhuo, and the others down below hurriedly called for army physicians to come pouring onto the field.

Weichi Shengde strode forward in several steps, grabbed the Aqini prince off his horse, and berated him furiously.

The prince frantically defended himself, saying he had absolutely not done it on purpose. With so many horses charging around him in chaos, his line of sight had been blocked, and he simply had not seen Prince Qin on the ground—that was why he had been unable to rein in his horse in time and had injured Prince Qin.

Weichi Shengde would not hear his excuses. He gritted his teeth, seized the man by his collar with one hand, raised his other fist, cocked his arm, and was about to deliver a blow—when a voice rang out: “Stop!”

The prince opened his eyes. He saw that Prince Qin had already been helped to his feet. At first his body was slightly hunched, his shoulders unsteady—he seemed to be struggling to stand. After a moment he commanded those supporting him to let go, raised his arm, and pressed it against the area of his chest where the hoof had struck. He frowned, clearly enduring pain. When the pain passed, he slowly straightened himself, then ordered Weichi Shengde to release the Aqini prince and said: “Those who come are guests. What is more, he had no intent to harm me. There is no need to make things difficult for him. On a polo field, anything can happen. If one blamed others every time there was an accident, how could the game go on?”

Since Prince Qin had spoken thus, Weichi Shengde could only comply. He released the Aqini prince’s collar with a resentful glower.

The prince stood in the field, still not yet recovered from his fright. He watched the Princess Consort come running down from the high platform, take Prince Qin by the arm, and slowly walk them both off the field. The army physicians followed close behind, and the two figures disappeared from everyone’s view.

The match had only been half finished, but given what had just happened so abruptly, the crowd naturally cared more about Prince Qin’s injuries than the unfinished competition.

A horse at full gallop had struck him with one hoof—and landed squarely on his chest. He could not possibly have escaped uninjured. At the least, he had broken ribs; if his luck was poor, there could be internal damage—and that would be a serious injury.

Everyone waited in place, speculating about Prince Qin’s condition and buzzing with discussion. About the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, a commotion suddenly stirred below the platform. They looked over—and the Princess Consort had returned. But her appearance was different from a moment ago. She was now dressed in close-fitting riding attire and, flanked by several soldiers as escort, climbed the high platform, stood before them, and raised both hands, signaling for silence across the whole field.

The crowd below quickly fell quiet.

Countless pairs of eyes fixed themselves on this young woman standing on the high platform.

Pu Zhu quietly drew in a deep breath, steadied herself, and called out loudly to those below: “We apologize for keeping everyone waiting. Prince Qin feels quite remorseful about it. He asked me to convey his words to everyone: his injury is not serious—after some rest he will be fine…”

When she had finished, she repeated it once more in the common language of the Western Regions. Her voice was clear and resonant, reaching directly into the heart.

A murmur of discussion rippled through the crowd below.

At that moment, a soldier came sprinting over and stopped in front of her, holding up high in both hands a polo mallet.

Those with sharp eyes nearby recognized it: it was the very mallet that Prince Qin had been using to play just moments ago.

Her gaze swept across the crowd below. When the chatter had subsided, she spoke again: “Prince Qin has one more thing to say. Though he has left the field, he cannot bear to let everyone’s enjoyment be spoiled. Not only will the remaining days of competition proceed as planned—but this very match, now only half-finished, must not be brought to an abrupt end on his account! He cannot take the field for the moment—so let me take his place, and help the brave players complete today’s polo match!”

She seized the polo mallet, smiled, and stepped briskly down from the platform. She swung herself onto the back of the red horse that Luo Bao had led over for her, and drove her mount straight into the polo field.

After a brief moment of silence, the whole field erupted in a wave of cheering that rolled like mountains toppling and seas overturning. The two polo teams that had been standing stunned on the field immediately revived upon her joining them. Everyone rushed to present themselves before her horse and pay their respects.

She gave a slight nod, signaled the referee to set the ball in play, and then, taking the lead, galloped forward at full speed.

Because of the Princess Consort’s unexpected appearance, there was no question this had become the most riveting match of the entire tournament.

Every eye was drawn to the field. Wave after wave of roaring sound surged from the crowd—so loud it could be heard clearly even from the cliff top behind the fortress.

It was under the cover of these surging waves of noise that Li Xuandu, using the pretext of receiving medical treatment, entered the fortress and made his way to this place.

One of his armies, in the half-month prior, had slipped out in the night in small batches. They were now assembled and waiting.

Han Rongchang and Zhang Zhuo and the others were waiting for him below the cliff. He was about to rappel down the rock face, disappearing quietly while everyone believed him to be receiving treatment.

Naturally, his tumble from the horse today and the blow of the hoof to his chest had both been deliberate.

The Aqini prince believed he had accidentally injured Li Xuandu. This news would very quickly be conveyed to Hufeng’s ears—and would completely erase any last doubts he might harbor.

In truth, from the very first day of the tournament, when Khotan lost its match—all of this had been Li Xuandu’s arrangement. His purpose was to wait for this very moment.

Today he had been on the same team as Weichi Shengde. Weichi had led his men to repeatedly hem in the prince with their horses until, when Li Xuandu fell from his horse, they deliberately opened a gap. The prince broke free and came charging. Li Xuandu had calculated the direction the prince would gallop in and rolled toward him—simply taking that one blow.

Naturally, this had been an act of enormous risk. For it, he had put on soft armor beneath his clothes beforehand, and at the very instant the hoof struck his chest, he twisted his body at an angle imperceptible to those watching, secretly deflecting the greater part of the hoof’s force—and thus had not truly been injured.

Now, he had successfully vanished from under everyone’s noses and slipped free of their watch.

Word would quickly spread: he had been seriously injured, perhaps even lying unconscious. And she would continue to stand in his place, presiding over the remaining days of the tournament.

He had no doubt whatsoever that in his absence, she would blaze brilliantly—drawing every eye and holding all attention. And he would ride north with light cavalry, become a sharp blade, and drive at the heart of the enemy to launch a fatal strike.

He had to go now.

He turned his head and cast one last look in the direction from which the waves of sound came—then turned away, took hold of the rope running down the rock face, and began to descend. His figure quickly vanished below the cliff top.

And at that very moment, on the polo field, as the thousands who had come from the kingdoms of the Western Regions were captivated by the Princess Consort’s brilliance—cheering for her one after another—in a nearby corner, a man with a high-bridged nose and deep-set eyes, dressed like an ordinary Western Regions local, utterly unremarkable, stood with a fixed gaze. Like everyone else around him, he too silently followed the graceful figure on the field.

She had stolen everyone’s thunder.

Her noble identity, her face that could topple cities, the fluent Western Regions language on her lips, the way she galloped freely across the polo field on horseback—she radiated brilliance from head to toe. Her every gesture was full of captivating charm.

No man could resist that kind of irresistible appeal.

He was certainly not seeing her for the first time. But watching her like this now—even in his eyes—a look of startled admiration had appeared.

Yet after that flash of admiration, a vague sense crept into his heart that something seemed not quite right.

He still could not tell where exactly something had gone wrong.

It was only a feeling—an instinct.

And he always trusted his instincts.