Many pairs of eyes fell on Princess Xie Yuzhang of Zhao.

She held the golden sword, clothed in mourning garments. Her figure was slender beyond measure, yet she had so unnerved Gulin that the woman’s fingernails dug into her attendant’s arm, daring not to step forward again.

The gazes of Wuwei, Dangdang, Zhanshilu, Tuqitang, and the others lingered on her with particular length.

Abazha said. “What Baohua says is right and proper! Wuwei, where is Chiguxie? Where is Yeliucixie? Summon them all — let us question them together!”

Abazha was not only the National Preceptor and the Great Shaman, but also Ashina’s own younger brother — the paternal uncle of the princes. Now that the old Khan had died and no new Khan had yet taken the throne, it was entirely fitting for him to step forward and hold things together.

Chiguxie was Ashina’s personal steward and had been almost inseparable from him. Yeliucixie was a great general and the commander of the Khan’s personal guard. Both had been at Ashina’s side during this incident.

The two men were immediately summoned forward.

Chiguxie had a sharp tongue and gave everyone an account of how events had unfolded.

Without waiting for Abazha to speak, Xie Yuzhang stepped forward and preemptively asked. “Prince Wuwei said it ‘may have been’ Zhao people — what evidence do you have?”

Chiguxie looked toward Yeliucixie. Yeliucixie said in a rough voice. “It could only have been Hexi people.”

Xie Yuzhang’s heart tensed inwardly, and she demanded. “Were any captives taken alive?”

“No.”

“Any bodies?”

“No.”

“Then were there identifying features or markings on the arrows?”

“No. Just ordinary arrows.”

“Did the perpetrators leave behind any token or mark identifying themselves?”

“No.”

“Were there brands on the horses — were they Hexi horses?”

“No brands. Mixed-breed horses.”

Li Gu was meticulous in everything he did. Their infiltrations of Mobei had not been their first. From inner and outer clothing to arrows and blades down to the horses — they would never leave a single opening for scrutiny.

Xie Yuzhang had no way of knowing any of this, but after this string of questions, she felt the knot in her chest ease. She arched her brows and snapped. “Then on what grounds do you say it was Hexi people?”

She pressed relentlessly. Yeliucixie hesitated despite himself, then clenched his jaw. “They were too formidable!”

“This group of people was too formidable!” he said. “To be on equal footing with our Khan’s personal guard — I can think of no one else but Hexi’s iron cavalry!”

His tongue was not particularly nimble, and certain feelings were difficult to put into words.

The techniques in controlling their horses, the stance in drawing the bow, the rhythm of the whistle signals… these were all details. But when the moment came to speak them aloud, they clumsily reduced to: “I just feel it was Hexi people!”

Xie Yuzhang nearly laughed in exasperation.

“You feel? Can something this weighty be decided on the basis of your feelings?” she said. “So there is no evidence whatsoever — it is all just what you feel?”

Yeliucixie argued back. “But I feel…”

Xie Yuzhang cut him off. “I also feel that Consort Gulin is better-looking than I am. And yet why does everyone say I am the first beauty of the grasslands?”

This was absolutely not a moment that should have invited laughter. So many people — especially the younger ones with poorer self-control — were forced to bite down hard on their lips and lower their faces to hide them. Lest they let out a sound most ill-suited to the occasion and earn a reprimand.

Gulin’s face turned green with fury.

Yet the example Xie Yuzhang had given powerfully illustrated the unreliability of subjective feeling.

Abazha finally spoke. “What Baohua says is reasonable. Besides your feeling — is there any other evidence?”

Yeliucixie could only tell the truth. “There is not.”

Abazha nodded, then drew Wuwei and several of the powerful great princes aside to confer in low voices.

Xie Yuzhang spoke no further. She paid no mind to the many gazes that fell on her, nor to the buzzing murmur of conversation around her. She returned the golden sword to its scabbard, and stood with her guards, waiting for the men to reach their conclusion.

Zhada Yali glanced at her, and then at her own son.

Dielitele’s gaze had never left Xie Yuzhang. The young man’s eyes were bright and gleaming.

Zhada Yali gave a faint, cool smile.

After a moment, the princes stepped apart. Abazha struck his wooden staff against the ground twice — thud, thud — and the crowd fell quiet.

“The Khan was killed by someone. We do not know who the enemy is. We will set this matter aside for now. When it has been investigated and clarified, we will certainly avenge the Khan.” He said. “For the present, let us first bring the Khan back to the tent, and let the Eternal Blue Heaven receive his spirit.”

The crowd fell still for a moment, and then weeping broke out once more.

The women wept with particular force.

Some people stole glances at Xie Yuzhang, noting that Princess Zhao only lowered her head slightly, her gaze resting on the ground.

“Look, she isn’t weeping.” they said.

Ashina Khan’s body lay in state in the mourning tent for three days. The royal encampment had not yet sent word to the various tribes — before a new Khan took the throne, this was the prudent thing to do.

Ashina’s body had been washed and cleaned, and his remains were covered in a coating of fat.

His sons, his kin — each slaughtered their cattle, sheep, and horses, presenting them as offerings, piling them around the mourning tent.

Women were not required to do this, for in this land, women — like cattle, sheep, and horses — were a man’s property.

But women of particular standing could do so.

As Zhada Yali, and the several princesses who had come from great tribes — regardless of their age or whose wife they were — they all made token offerings in modest amounts.

Princess Zhao Xie Yuzhang astonished everyone. The offerings she presented were so great in number that they nearly rivaled those of Wuwei and Tuqitang and the other great princes.

For the quantity of one’s offering was itself an indication of the wealth of the one making it. Prince against prince, they competed with each other. Woman against woman, they competed with each other.

Xie Yuzhang had broken through the barrier between the two.

Among all the great princes, Dangdang had presented the fewest offerings. What Xie Yuzhang presented seemed to be nearly as many as his.

Dangdang could not help himself and said. “Consort Baohua — there is no need for you to offer so many.”

Yet Xie Yuzhang looked at these princes and said coldly. “My husband gave me far more than this. He is dead. How much I return to him is not for others to find fault with.”

Over these two days, the old consorts with white hair had all remained calm. Many of them had lived through more than one husband’s death, and those with grown sons could live in dependence on their sons, with no need to remarry anyone again. But the young consorts with no grown sons had already started to grow restless — in private, they were all quietly making overtures to whichever princes and nobles they had taken a liking to, expressing their willingness to seek shelter under them.

Princess Zhao had not privately colluded with anyone, seeking out a way forward for herself. Her indifference toward the great princes was the same as it had been when Ashina was alive.

Now she had presented offerings that could stand alongside Dangdang’s. Some people thought her prodigal, too lavish. Others thought her foolish — Ashina was dead, already dead. What good was it to be generous with him now? He could not see it.

But Wuwei and Tuqitang and the other great princes, watching it, thought to themselves — if they were to die, would any of their own women be able to do this for them?

So it was that their father Khan had been so fond of Princess Zhao. There was truly a reason for it.

Princess Zhao took out a jade vial and poured a small amount of liquid onto her palm, which she then flicked in droplets onto Ashina’s remains.

Someone asked. “What is that?”

Princess Zhao said. “Flower-dew water.”

She said. “Of all the flower-dew waters I distilled, this was the only fragrance he liked.”

The scent drifted outward — sure enough, it was the fragrance the old man sometimes carried on his person. The old man, for the sake of winning the favor of Consort Baohua, had bathed and sprinkled flower-dew water on himself. Everyone knew this.

The appointed hour arrived. The princes mounted their horses and rode in circles around the mourning tent.

The Great Shaman Abazha was arrayed in full ceremonial dress and performed the sacrificial dance, praying for his elder brother’s spirit to return to the embrace of the Eternal Blue Heaven.

The princes rode round and round, and each time they passed the front entrance of the mourning tent, they cut their faces with their blades and wept aloud. By the time seven circuits were complete, their faces were streaked with blood and tears.

The shamans recited their sutras on all four sides.

Xie Yuzhang watched this funeral rite of a foreign people. Strange and uncanny, yet it was the belief of these people.

At the end, the entire mourning tent was set alight.

A man who had commanded the grasslands for decades — after death, nothing remained but a handful of ash.

Wuwei had long since been designated as the heir of the khanate. He was also the prince with the greatest strength among all the princes, and for him to inherit the Khan’s throne presented no real difficulty at this stage.

Power was transferred smoothly, and only then did the royal encampment release word to the outside world. The great and small khans came hurrying, participating in the new Khan’s enthronement ceremony.

Wuwei became the new Ashina Khan. He was in the full vigor of his thirties, and could be called dashing and spirited.

Of course, he held only the title of Mobei Khan. The title of “Heavenly Khan” — that, he did not have above him.

When the ceremonies ended and the various tribal khans dispersed one by one, Xie Yuzhang knew that the time had come for Wuwei and his brothers and uncles to divide up the inheritance of old Ashina.

This inheritance, beyond power, warriors, cattle, sheep, horses, gold, silver, and jewels, and subjects and slaves — also included the many wives of Ashina Suilibai.

Xie Yuzhang sat in her own great tent, softly kneading the base of her fingers. After a long while, she at last raised her head.

Those present in the tent were all her trusted people.

She said. “Yuan Ling, pass word through the ranks. Have everyone pack up their belongings.”

Everyone was taken aback.

Xie Yuzhang continued. “We will make a show of preparing to return south.”

The phrase “make a show of preparing to return south” naturally implied that she did not truly intend to return south.

Yuan Yu’s mind turned at once and he understood.

“Understood.” he said.

Yuan Yu and Li Yong had both understood. Wang Zhong was still somewhat puzzled.

Li Yong said. “Ha — when you’re bargaining, you always have to start by making an outrageous demand.”

Xie Yuzhang gave a slight smile. She would make her opening bid outrageously high, so that Wuwei and the great princes could haggle her down from there.

Hexi. Outside the walls of Liangzhou, military tents stretched one into the next without end.

The Eleventh Young Master Li, the Seventh Young Master Li, the Fifth Young Master Li, and the Eighth Young Master Li had joined forces, encircling Liangzhou. Li Ming was dead, and the Twelve Tigers had openly and publicly split apart.

“What does the First Young Master say?” Li Gu asked.

His deputy general Jiang Jingye had just returned from Li the First Young Master’s side, bearing the First Young Master’s reply.

“The First Young Master says the Master’s grace toward him was immeasurable, and he will never be the kind of ungrateful, disloyal scoundrel who forgets his benefactor.” Jiang Jingye said. “But if it is proven without doubt that the Second Young Master did this deed, he will absolutely not take the Second Young Master’s side.”

As they spoke, the sound of footsteps rang out outside.

“Eleventh Young Master!” Li Weifeng, the Fifth Young Master, and the Eighth Young Master arrived together, all with grief and fury on their faces.

Li Gu frowned. “What happened?”

Li Weifeng said with grief and rage. “He killed the Fourth Young Master!”

Li Gu shot to his feet!

“Are you certain?” he demanded sharply.

“A head was hung on the city wall.” The Fifth Young Master also said with grief and fury. “The scout with the sharpest eyes was sent to look. It is without question the Fourth Young Master!”

The Fourth Young Master Li Qi was incapable of amounting to anything, yet he was Li Ming’s only son by blood.

Apart from the First, Second, and Third Young Masters who were Li clan blood relatives, all the others among the Twelve Tigers had come from poor and difficult origins. Li Ming’s generosity to them had been as weighty as a mountain. Any among them with a conscience — witnessing their adoptive father’s own flesh and blood murdered — would be overcome with grief.

Li Weifeng stepped forward and barked. “Eleventh — let’s move!”

These days they had held their troops back and refrained from action because the Fourth Young Master and Elder Sister Li Zhenzhen were in the Second Young Master’s hands, which had tied them and kept them from striking.

At these words, Li Gu raised his eyes. His gaze was cold as ice.

Hexi’s foremost killer, the Eleventh Young Master — loyal beyond question to his adoptive father Li Ming, and for the sake of Hexi’s greater good, one who had always stepped back and yielded before the Second Young Master.

He had kept himself in check for far too long.

Now, all those bonds of loyalty and righteousness, of gratitude and feeling that had constrained him — they no longer existed. There was nothing left that could block his path.

The hearts of the young men all grew burning hot, their ambitions seething.

Of course, at this moment, their ambitions extended only so far as breaching Liangzhou’s walls and taking control of Hexi.

They did not yet know, at this moment, to what heights the young man before them would carry them.