At the upper reaches of the Kerulen and Tula Rivers’ southern banks, beneath the natural barrier of the Yinshan Mountains, lay a vast expanse of lush grasslands and picturesque landscapes. This was Longcheng, the royal court of the Chanyu.

Every autumn, the royal court held the Daling Assembly. The Chanyu’s clan nobles, prestigious Xiongnu families of different surnames, and twenty-four tribes, including vassal states like the Kunye King, Loufan King, and Xiutu King, would all lead their people on arduous journeys to gather here. During the assembly, besides reporting population numbers to the Chanyu and offering livestock tributes, they also held celebratory gatherings. For this month, inside and outside the royal court, tens of thousands of yurts sprawled across the land, filled with singing, dancing, and bonfires that burned through the night.

This year’s Daling Assembly coincided with Left Wise King Wuwei leading three hundred thousand cavalry on a southern raid. According to initial estimates, Yuyang should fall within half a month at most.

If this wish came true, it would be the most heartening victory for the Xiongnu in the past twenty years since losing Hetao.

Thus, everyone, including the Chanyu, was waiting for the battle report to arrive.

Unexpectedly, after waiting for over half a month, the news that came was dire: the attack on Shanggu had been thwarted, Wei Shao had retreated, Wuwei had suffered a great defeat, and including surrendered troops, they had lost nearly one hundred thousand soldiers and horses.

One in every three men would not return.

The Chanyu flew into a rage, canceling the daily grand banquets held in the royal tent. It was said that he berated Wuwei in private, leaving the latter trembling in fear.

The herdsmen who learned of the news were anxious and uneasy, inquiring everywhere about the whereabouts of their family members who had participated in the battle.

Although the Daling Assembly continued, the atmosphere plummeted from celebratory heights to a freezing point in an instant.

As night fell, Wei Yan was still drinking alone in his tent.

Several wine jugs before him gradually emptied, and as he became half-drunk, the tent flap was suddenly lifted, and a swaying figure stumbled in.

It was Left Wise King Wuwei.

Wuwei seemed to have drunk quite a bit, his face flushed red. He stopped in front of Wei Yan, his bloodshot eyes fixed intently on him, breathing heavily.

Wei Yan appeared oblivious, pouring himself another cup of wine.

“Wei Yan! I’ve already had people check. During those days when I led the army south to attack Shanggu, you were never in the royal court! The Chanyu didn’t send you out on any errands either. Where exactly did you go during those days?”

Wei Yan remained motionless as if the man before him didn’t exist.

Wuwei sneered, “I knew you wouldn’t admit it! This time when I went south, the plan was meticulous, advancing at full speed. We crossed the Sanggan River in just two days! If someone hadn’t informed the Han in advance, how could the border cities have responded so comprehensively in such a short time? The more I think about it, the more suspicious you seem! You’re originally Han, coming to our royal court, pretending to defect to us Xiongnu, but in reality, you’re a spy sent by the Wei family! If it weren’t for your warning this time, causing me to lose the initiative, how could my three hundred thousand iron cavalry fail to take a mere Shanggu? You think I don’t know? Since you came to the royal court, you’ve never submitted to me, inciting the Lan clan and Huyan clan to not only oppose me but even plot against the Chanyu! I’ll kill you…”

He drew his saber and swung it down at Wei Yan. However, being severely drunk, the blow went wide, and the blade deeply embedded itself in the table, unable to be pulled out.

In Wei Yan’s hand, a gold-wrapped dagger suddenly appeared. In a flash, before one could see, a blade of snow-white flashed by, and the dagger plunged into Wuwei’s chest, sinking to the hilt with only the handle protruding.

Wuwei’s pupils suddenly contracted, his eyes widening like copper rings, filled with disbelief as he stared fixedly at Wei Yan’s cold, emotionless gray-black eyes across from him. His mouth opened weakly several times before his body finally collapsed with a thud at Wei Yan’s feet.

Several of Wuwei’s guards rushed in upon hearing the commotion. Seeing the scene, they were greatly alarmed and drew their swords.

Wei Yan sat back down behind the wine table, his expression indifferent as he watched Wuwei convulsing on the ground until he gradually stopped struggling.

He withdrew his gaze, tilted his head back, and drained the wine in his cup as if nothing had happened.

The guards looked at each other, fear evident on their faces. They slowly backed away, and upon reaching the tent entrance, quickly retreated.

Outside the tent, the autumn wind from the Yinshan Mountains whistled mournfully, sweeping over the tops of one yurt after another. In the distance, from some unknown location, came the faint sound of a night flute, its melody sorrowful and distant, low and winding, as if filled with longing with nowhere to be expressed.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew open the tent flap, and in the flickering candlelight, a beautifully adorned noblewoman rushed in.

She wore a vibrant green, red, and purple vest embroidered with exquisite patterns and trimmed with gold thread. On her head was an eight-petaled silver flower-patterned hat with a large ruby set in the front. Her feet were clad in pointed leather boots, her entire appearance exuding nobility.

It was Lan Yun, Wei Yan’s former concubine.

The Lan clan was originally one of the twenty-four Xiongnu noble clans of a different surname. Previously, this clan had fallen from grace and been demoted by the Chanyu, but in recent years, due to military achievements, the Lan clan had risen again. Lan Yun’s brother had been reinstated as the Lan King, and Lan Yun herself had been granted the title of Juci (Princess). Known for her exceptional beauty, she was called the Zhenzhu of the Grasslands, and countless suitors from the twenty-four tribes had sought her hand, only to be rejected.

It was well known throughout the royal court that Princess Lan Yun was in love with the Qiangjiang Wang Hutu Kun.

Lan Yun rushed in hurriedly, and upon seeing Wuwei lying dead on the ground with a dagger in his chest, her face changed dramatically. She threw herself before Wei Yan and said in a trembling voice, “You killed him? You killed him just like that?”

Wei Yan seemed not to hear, pouring himself another cup of wine.

Lan Yun grabbed his wrist that held the wine cup and said anxiously, “My brother learned that Wuwei came to find you drunk, so he followed. He has already intercepted and killed Wuwei’s guards who went to report! While the Chanyu still doesn’t know, you must leave quickly!”

Wei Yan pulled back the wrist she had grabbed, his gaze still not turning to her, and said coldly, “The Princess should return to the Lan clan soon. There’s no need for your concern here.”

Lan Yun stared at him, her eyes filled with sorrow, and slowly knelt beside him: “I know you’re in pain. Back then, the Rouzhi King always hoped for your return, so he sent me to your side, both to serve you and to act when the opportunity arose. I used the incident with Lady Qiao to make you unable to face the Wei family, finally causing you to return to the Xiongnu. Now in the royal court, although everyone calls you Hutu Kun, I know that in your heart, you’ve never been able to shake off your Han identity… I’ve wronged you. I’m just a lowly being who was spared by your mercy back then. I know I don’t have the right to stay by your side and serve you, nor do I have the face to bother you again. But now, Wuwei was already speaking ill of you to the Chanyu, saying you informed the Han, which is why they were prepared and his southern campaign failed. The Chanyu might already be suspicious of you, and now you’ve even killed Wuwei like this! I beg you, please leave quickly…”

“Get out.”

Wei Yan’s eyes were bloodshot, his breath reeking of alcohol, as he squeezed out a word through gritted teeth.

“Please… That Lady Qiao is your inner demon. I beg you, don’t torture yourself because of her anymore! Don’t you understand, even if you hadn’t been forced to return to the Xiongnu back then, you would never have been able to have her in this lifetime—”

“Get out of here!”

Wei Yan suddenly erupted in anger, violently pushing Lan Yun away. He kicked over the table in front of him, sending gold cups and silver plates clattering to the ground.

His force was so great that it broke Lan Yun’s wrist.

Lan Yun’s face turned pale as she fell into the corner of the tent. Slowly getting up while biting back tears, she said in a trembling voice, “Even if you kill me, I must say this! You’re no longer the Han Wei Yan! You are the Xiongnu Hutu Kun! The name Hutu Kun is now gaining prestige daily in the royal court. I beg you, from now on, cut ties completely with your past and be a good Xiongnu…”

Wei Yan suddenly drew a gold-wrapped dagger from his waist, strode forward, bent down, and grabbed Lan Yun’s collar, gritting his teeth, “Say one more word, and I’ll kill you!”

Lan Yun stared at his bloodshot eyes and ferocious expression, then smiled sadly, “Looking back, those years by your side were the happiest times of my life. If you want to kill me, then do it. This life of mine was spared by you back then anyway.”

She closed her eyes.

Wei Yan stared at her intently, breathing heavily, his eyelids twitching.

Suddenly, rapid footsteps sounded outside the tent, and an attendant’s voice called out, “Master, someone from the royal tent is here. The Chanyu summons you urgently!”

Lan Yun’s eyes flew open, “Don’t go! Although news of Wuwei’s death by your hand has been temporarily intercepted, for the Chanyu to summon you so late at night must mean he intends to put you at a disadvantage! My brother, the Huyan clan, and the Qiulin clan all support your father! No one wants endless war with the Han! Go quickly, consult with them…”

Wei Yan straightened up, his earlier rage gradually subsiding. He pushed Lan Yun aside, turned, and lifted the tent flap, stooping to exit.

His guards moved to follow but were stopped by the royal messenger.

“Master!” the guards looked at him.

Wei Yan said, “Stay here. There’s no need to follow me.”

Lan Yun scrambled to her feet, chasing after him and calling out repeatedly, but Wei Yan didn’t look back. Escorted by a line of royal guards, he strode quickly towards the enormous royal tent in the distance, resembling a small hill.

His figure soon vanished into the pitch-black night.

Lan Yun fell to her knees, muttering, “…He’s gone mad… Does he not want to live anymore…”

Frightened by the thought that had sprung into her mind, as if pricked by a needle, she suddenly leaped to her feet, pushed aside the maids who had rushed to her, mounted a horse, and galloped away.

…

In the center of the royal tent, a huge fire pit blazed, illuminating the golden splendor of the surrounding walls.

The Chanyu, still awake in the dead of night, sat on a golden chair inlaid with gems and covered with white tiger skin. His eyes narrowed as he stared at Wei Yan.

The Chanyu was in his twilight years. This once-mighty prairie lord, who had ascended to the Chanyu’s throne by patricide in his youth, couldn’t escape the ravages of time. He had become frail, especially after the news of the defeat at Shanggu. The Chanyu’s spirits had plummeted.

The kings and chiefs of the twenty-four tribes who had come to attend the assembly hadn’t seen him for days, leading to endless speculation.

Even so, the gaze the Chanyu now fixed on Wei Yan still carried an overwhelmingly imposing aura.

“Where did you go during the days when Wuwei led the army south?” the Chanyu asked coldly.

Wei Yan looked at the Chanyu on the throne and slowly knelt. “I was in Shanggu.”

The Chanyu’s eyes flashed with a fierce light, his hand gripping the armrest tightly. “Wuwei claims you informed the Han, which is why his southern campaign was thwarted?”

“Indeed,” Wei Yan replied calmly.

“Not only that, just now, Wuwei came to my tent intending to kill me, but I killed him instead. His corpse should still be in my tent.”

The Chanyu suddenly stood up from his throne, eyes wide, pointing at Wei Yan, breathing rapidly. Suddenly, with a clang, he drew the precious sword at his waist and quickly descended the steps towards Wei Yan.

“Since your return to the Xiongnu, I believe I’ve treated you well, never discriminating against you for being raised in the Wei family! I also know Wuwei is incompetent, and once I die, he might not be able to control the twenty-four tribes. That’s why I’ve considered removing him from the position of Crown Prince. Yet why do you repay kindness with enmity, first informing the Han, and now even killing my son?”

The Chanyu questioned fiercely, pressing the sword heavily against Wei Yan’s neck.

The sharp blade immediately cut into the skin, drawing a line of bright red blood that trickled down his neck, instantly staining his collar.

Wei Yan seemed oblivious, his eyes fixed on a flickering flame in the fire pit. After a moment’s trance, he said, “My existence in this world is superfluous. I’ve failed both the Wei family who raised me and the Chanyu who recognized my talents. I’m neither human nor ghost, worse than pigs and dogs. It’s only proper for the Chanyu to kill me.”

Having said this, he slowly knelt, closing his eyes, his expression serene.

The Chanyu glared at him, his gaze gradually becoming ferocious. Just then, Wuzhuqu burst into the royal tent, disheveled and panic-stricken. He rushed to the Chanyu’s feet, fell to his knees, and kowtowed, saying, “Royal Brother! Everything was my doing! It was I who, unwilling to see Wuwei claim all the credit, ordered him to inform the Han! It was also I who, unable to bear Wuwei’s constant provocations, ordered him to find an opportunity to eliminate Wuwei! If Royal Brother wishes to kill someone, kill me! It has nothing to do with him!”

The Chanyu stared at Wuzhuqu and sneered, “He has committed such a grave crime, he should be torn apart by five horses. Yet you take all the blame to exonerate him. Very well, considering he is also a descendant of our Luandi clan, I’ll spare him the punishment of being torn apart and leave his body intact.”

He shouted for the warriors to enter.

Amidst the chaotic footsteps, the tent flap was suddenly thrown open, and a whistling arrow flew towards the Chanyu like lightning. With a thud, it pierced right between his eyebrows, passing through the bone and out the back of his head.

The Chanyu’s eyes bulged, his body rigid. A moment later, the precious sword fell from his hand, and he toppled backward with a thunderous crash.

Huyan Lie and Lan Ti, having slaughtered the Chanyu’s trusted men outside the tent, led their guards swarming in, killing the remaining guards inside. They then stepped forward to help Wuzhuqu to his feet.

Wuzhuqu glanced at his brother, whose eyes remained wide open even in death. He closed his eyes briefly and then looked at Wei Yan, whose clothes were stained with blood. Stepping forward, he said in a trembling voice, “My son, are you alright?”

Wei Yan opened his eyes, gazed at the Chanyu’s corpse for a moment, then stood up and left, parting the crowd.

That night, news spread like wildfire through the royal court that Wuwei, fearing punishment from the Chanyu for his defeat, had assassinated the Chanyu but was then killed by the guards.

The nobles and vassal kings of the twenty-four tribes, shocked awake by the news, rushed from their respective tents. After a chaotic discussion, at the suggestion of the Huyan King, Qiulin King, and others, they unanimously elected Wuzhuqu as the new Chanyu, with no objections.

As dawn broke in the east, the autumn dew still lay heavy, each droplet like a crystal bead on the tips of the grass. In the distance, the morning mist swirled, vast and hazy, like a white gauze floating over the endless prairie.

Wei Yan rode his horse, passing by the embers of last night’s bonfire, galloping alone towards the horizon.

The horse’s hooves kicked up white ashes, scattering them to the wind, blown in an unknown direction.

He too didn’t know where he was heading or where he would end up, his heart as lost as a man who had lost his way.

Once upon a time, the thirst for power had set his soul ablaze, keeping him awake at night.

Now, he was just one step away from the pinnacle he had once fervently desired.

This vast and rich land could be under his feet, and even the lands to the south, if he desired, might not be beyond his reach.

But he felt dispirited, as if a corner of his heart was missing, impossible to fill.

Perhaps nowhere in this life would be his place to stay.

He was just an abandoned person, he knew in his heart.

From the morning mist behind him, a line of fast horses caught up, getting closer and closer, accompanied by urgent calls. Finally, Wei Yan reined in his horse and stopped.

Wuzhuqu rode up beside him, while Huyan Lie and the Lan siblings halted their horses behind, waiting silently.

“Yan’er! Why must you leave? Your father hopes you’ll stay!”

Wei Yan smiled faintly, “I’ve already helped you achieve your wish and ascend to the Chanyu’s position. What use is there in keeping me here?”

Wuzhuqu looked at him steadily, “Once the royal court is stable, your father wishes to make peace with the Han and cease hostilities. If you insist on leaving, I cannot force you to stay. But the position of Left Wise King will be kept for you. When you’ve figured things out, you can return. Is that alright?”

Wei Yan remained silent, turned his horse around, and galloped away, his figure dispersing a cloud of mist.

Lan Yun called out tearfully to the torn mist, “Wei Yan! I was your woman for a day, I’ll be your woman for life…”

Before she could finish, in the blink of an eye, the man and horse in the mist ahead had vanished from sight.

“He will come back, won’t he?” Lan Yun covered her face, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Give him some time. He’ll gradually come to understand,” said Lan Ti, gazing into the distance.