The Flying Eagle Tribe people came quickly and left quickly. Their purpose in coming was to kill the city lord and plunder some food to take back. There was no particular objective—perhaps the city lord had spoken ill of the Flying Eagle Tribe, or perhaps the city lord had inadvertently learned secrets he shouldn’t have known, or perhaps it was for nothing at all—they were just a fat sheep slaughtered in passing.

Qu Zhuo brought out his own family’s grain with a smile and gave it to these bandits. The bandits were in good spirits too. Mutton couldn’t be stored long-term, so they left the remaining sheep for Qu Zhuo. Finally, in their kindness, they also gave him their green salt.

This was the relationship between bandits and common people—mutually dependent, mutually plundering, and mutually killing each other. Here you couldn’t distinguish who were the bandits and who were the common people. Qu Zhuo generally called anyone with weapons on their person a bandit.

Thinking of the intelligence he had already sent out, Qu Zhuo was very pleased. Since his teacher already knew someone was planning to ambush him, naturally he wouldn’t let these bandits succeed. The Tuyuhun, Xueyantuo, and people of the Nine Surnames of Zhaowu all clearly knew what kind of existence the Great Tang’s elite troops were. Only the Tibetan people didn’t know. They believed that as long as they concentrated five thousand people, they would be invincible.

The brave Tibetan people never asked how many enemies there were—they only asked where the enemies were. Cowards would have a fox tail tied around their necks and be mocked for being as timid as foxes.

Qu Zhuo suddenly recalled a phrase his academy teacher had said: “Because they are savage, they are therefore strong.”

He took out some flatbreads from the interlayer in the wall—these were saved for the children. Seeing that the mutton remaining in the pot was already cooked completely through, he ladled it out and put it in a pottery basin. Closing the shop door, he delivered this food to Jian Niang and the children. During this period, those heroes and champions would start fighting again, preparing to decide on a new city lord. At this time, it was safer for Jian Niang and the children to remain in the underground cave.

Cheng Chumo sat on a stone resting, holding his horse lance in his arms. His head, face, and armor were covered everywhere with bloodstains. The bandits who had come to Loulan had been completely killed by him and his soldiers.

The military scribe was tallying the battle results. Those tough old soldiers were giving finishing blows to the bandits’ corpses. Some with special preferences would only approach the corpses after chopping off the heads—on the battlefield, one could never be too careful.

Hei Feng led his tribespeople to dig large pits near the Sun Tombs. The battle just now had frightened them badly. Bandits covering the mountains and plains had surged toward the empty Loulan. They hadn’t come to kill people—they had come to destroy this city. Hei Feng knew what those Western Regions people preparing to leave were calculating—didn’t they just want to turn the Western Regions into scorched earth?

He had led his tribespeople to hide in the rocky beach precisely to guard against these bandits attacking, hadn’t he? Standing on the hillside, he had witnessed with his own eyes the battle just now. Those Tang country soldiers wearing Loulan people’s clothing over their armor, facing the howling approaching enemy, not a single one had turned to flee, even though their numbers were far fewer.

In fact, it wasn’t the bandits attacking—it was the Tang people attacking. The row of burly men at the very front wielded huge long blades with both hands, swinging once every three steps. Whether bandits or horses blocking their way would shatter in that instant. The feathered arrows shot by the bandits struck their bodies with clanging sounds before finally falling powerlessly to the ground.

These strong soldiers only advanced about a hundred paces before stopping. Then that terrifying general led the cavalry in a charge. For the first time, Hei Feng learned that the side with fewer numbers could surround the side with more numbers.

The warhorses roared and neighed, and the men also roared and neighed. Tall warhorses collided together and crashed to the ground. There were also those bandits pierced on horse lances desperately pounding the lance shafts. The Tang soldiers released their horse lances, drew their horizontal sabers from their backs, and continued spurring their horses to hack and kill. Some had arms fall off, some had ears fly off, and there were warhorses carrying half a torso rampaging chaotically across the battlefield.

Hei Feng watched wide-eyed as that general in black armor used the horizontal saber in his hand to split a most ferocious horse bandit’s head open from the middle, then pulled out a flail from his saddle bag and smashed another horse bandit’s shoulder. When the flail was pulled back, it still had strands of flesh hanging from it—the hammer of that flail had barbs on it.

That the warriors were brave and the general was brave—there was nothing to say about that. But it was somewhat strange that the youth beside them and that long-bearded civil official sat on the hillside drinking tea and watching the battle situation. They seemed not the least bit afraid, and were even commenting in low voices on which soldiers had better skills. Finally finding it boring, they actually set up Han people’s chess pieces on the hillside and began playing chess.

The bandits kept trying to escape from this seemingly loose encirclement, but no matter how they struggled, they were like a flock of sparrows trapped under a sieve, able only to flap their wings futilely.

The bandits’ numbers grew fewer and fewer. Even when some knelt on the ground begging for mercy, it was useless—those Tang country soldiers unhesitatingly chopped off their heads. Only then did Hei Feng understand that the Tang country soldiers had no intention of taking a single prisoner.

Hei Feng hesitated about whether to go help. Di Renjie put away the chess pieces and said to him: “Wait a moment. After the soldiers finish giving the final blows, then you can go clean up. We’ll handle the fighting, you do the rest.”

Xu Jingzong walked with his hands behind his back, looking at the chaotic battlefield. Pointing at two tall, large horses among them, he said to Di Renjie: “Those two large horses seem to have Ferghana bloodlines. Have them brought to me in a bit. Having finally been on a battlefield once, I should have some memento.”

Di Renjie nodded with a smile. Xu Jingzong was the highest-ranking official here—this was proper. Having finished speaking, the two men walked down from the hillside. Behind them, the foreign dancing girl carried the chessboard, appearing just like refined gentlemen who had just finished an excursion.

The battlefield was not unfamiliar to Xu Jingzong. In his early years, he had followed Li Er campaigning east and west. Though only in a civilian position, the bloodiness of battlefields had long since ceased to stimulate him. He walked calmly among the corpses lying in all directions. When he saw armored ones, he would turn them over to look at their faces. If they were Great Tang soldiers, he would instruct the Loulan people to carefully carry them away. If they were bandits, he would continue forward.

The Great Tang’s wounded soldiers were carried away, and the battlefield immediately became deathly silent. When the gentle spring wind blew sand and dust from afar to cover the battlefield, the bloody smell finally lessened somewhat. Only the color had changed—everything was a dull gray. Di Renjie watched as the sand blew into the dead corpses’ eyes—fish-like dead eyes that became even more turbid.

The Loulan people’s efficiency in cleaning up the battlefield was very fast. They stripped the armor from the bandits’ bodies, collected the scattered blades and spears, killed the warhorses that couldn’t be restored, and they didn’t even spare the clothing from the corpses. Finally, they threw the naked bodies into large pits, buried them with sand, and called it done.

“Everyone retreat back to Rocky Stone City. This time what came were Western Regions bandits. If they had been Tibetan bandits, we definitely would have suffered heavy losses. Those bandits should be left for Marquis Yun to deal with—he commands a true fighting army.”

Xu Jingzong patted Cheng Chumo’s shoulder. Rather than this order being issued to others, it was specifically directed at Cheng Chumo. Cheng Chumo didn’t object either, but looked at the bloodstain-filled battlefield with some reluctance, finding it hard to leave.

In the desert, the time with the greatest windstorms wasn’t winter, but spring when the weather warmed. Under the ash-gray sky, a troop of black-armored cavalry appeared hazily from the yellow sand. The mounted knights all wore veils and rode swiftly through the windstorm with half-closed eyes. The horses’ hooves trampled on fragile sandstone, the sandstone shattered, and faintly sparks emerged.

“This is the terrifying White Sheep Plain, the sea of death in the shepherds’ mouths. Their songs are filled with fear of this land: ‘In those years I drove my horse herds seeking grassland, I stopped my horse here and gazed upon you. The vast Gobi was like a boundless sea of fire. I quickly turned my face away and went elsewhere. Ah, White Sheep Plain, I don’t want to enter you. You have neither grass nor water, even birds don’t fly. Ah, White Sheep Plain, I don’t want to enter you.'”

The reason Yun Ye wanted to cross White Sheep Plain was simple—he didn’t want to go through the quicksand area. After emerging from the quicksand area, the army would be exhausted, both men and horses. Under such conditions, clashing hard with Tibetan horse bandits would be unwise. White Sheep Plain was regarded as a demon sea in Western Regions people’s eyes only because mirages always appeared here. The mirages on the Gobi Desert were different from those in the desert—they floated in mid-air two meters high. Often two suns would appear in the sky, and their positions would constantly change. The real sun appeared vague and indistinct under the reflection of water vapor, while that false sun would hang red in the sky instead. Those caravans that relied on the sun for directions were often deceived. Walking the wrong way on the vast Gobi Desert required paying the price of life.

White Sheep Plain had no reference points to choose from. In the distance were identical sand dunes—east, south, west, and north were all the same. This place had originally been a large lake. When the lake water was gone, what remained was an extremely flat lakebed.

The wind stopped, stopped extremely suddenly with no warning at all. Watching the sand that had been blown into the sky fall back down, Yuan Shoucheng stretched out his hand. Watching the sand thinly cover his palm, he asked Yun Ye beside him: “Why is the wind here so strange? It stops just like that.”

Yun Ye removed his veil, spat out the sand in his mouth, and replied: “I actually hope for wind. Only wind is the most accurate directional guide. The sun can’t be relied on, and perhaps the compass can’t be relied on either.”

Yuan Shoucheng chuckled and said: “As long as this old man has the compass in hand, there’s no worry of getting lost.”

“Don’t talk big. I’ve heard this godforsaken place has magnetic mountains. When that time comes, I’ll see how you discern direction. Right now I must hurry to the front. I’m very worried Lai Chuanfeng will lead us the wrong way. The guide is on the verge of collapse and can’t be counted on—I’ll go myself.” Yun Ye shook his horse’s reins. Wang Cai immediately galloped forward, and before long caught up with Lai Chuanfeng who was leading the way.

The three-hundred-li radius of White Sheep Plain was also an enormous test for Yun Ye. He was the only one who dared lead a large army through here. When Su Dingfang entered Beiting, he honestly exited Jade Gate Pass, passed Demon City, and groped along the trade routes. Even so, he experienced losses of soldiers and generals, with morale so low at one point that it needed to be raised through plunder and killing.

The dust settled, and the sun shone white and blazing upon the earth. In a short time, the entire White Sheep Plain became as dry and hot as a furnace.