Chapter 330: That Battle Had No Victory or Defeat

Ba Yan perched on the horse's back, face to face with her: "Foal grass loses its medicinal properties after it blooms; this is a thousand‑year tradition of the steppe…"

"Then Chief, please take a look at this," Sa Ren lifted the unremarkable root ball in his hand, "Foal grass simply stores all its medicinal properties in the root."

"I just tasted it; I'm afraid its effect is several times stronger than the leaves."

"Nonsense!" Ba Yan didn't believe it at all, "A broken root to fool people? Sa Ren, are you going mad!"

Sa Ren stopped arguing with him, turned to Su Rina and said, "Go fetch that mare."

Su Rina sprinted off, and a moment later returned leading a mare whose belly sagged, clearly a near‑term, reddish‑brown mare about to give birth.

Sa Ren publicly broke off a small piece of the root ball and handed it to the mare's mouth.

The mare calmly chewed and swallowed it.

Ba Yan watched with a cold stare, and the group of youths responded with even colder words:

"Yo, really feeding it? What use can a rotten grass root possibly have?"

"I say, Chief Sa Ren, if you truly lack men to help, just say so!"

"A few of us could do some good, taking turns to be your helpers!"

They then laughed boisterously, and the women of the Wu Dai tribe trembled with anger, their eyes reddening, but were tightly held back by the older women.

Sa Ren's expression was as still as water; he gently shook his head at the people behind him, signaling them to endure.

She stood quietly, staring intently at the mare.

Time passed bit by bit.

The mare began to stamp her hooves anxiously.

Then she gradually calmed, her breathing becoming long and steady.

After roughly the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, she suddenly flexed her forelegs slightly and lowered her body.

The women of the Wu Dai tribe shouted in unison, "She's giving birth!"

The whole process was unbelievably fast.

Yet within a moment, a wet foal slipped onto the ground.

The mare lowered her head to lick gently; the foal, trembling, stood up, stumbling to find its mother's side.

Everything proceeded smoothly as if aided by the gods.

Ba Yan's mocking smile froze on his face.

The youths each widened their eyes, looking at the mother and foal, then at the remaining root piece in Sa Ren's hand, their faces full of astonishment.

"How is this possible?"

"When foal grass blooms, isn't it supposed to be useless?"

"Why does it seem to be born even faster!"

Ba Yan's broad face turned a mottled blue‑white, the veins at his temples pulsing sharply.

He only felt a burning sting on his face, as if he had been slapped dozens of times in public.

A soft, crisp child's voice rang out: "Hey! Chief!"

Tuan Tuan walked over, lifted her little face and said, "This grass just hides the medicine in its roots!"

"Just like you hide meat at home during winter."

"If you hide your meat, does it go bad?"

The child's innocent words were like a needle's eye, piercing Ba Yan's most awkward sore spot.

A woman couldn't help but let out a "pfft" laugh, and gradually the laughter grew louder.

Ba Yan gave the horsewhip a heavy swing and shouted, "Let's go!"

The once‑storming party turned away without a word, leaving behind a wrecked patch of grass and swirling dust.

Watching them depart, cheers suddenly erupted.

The women embraced and wept, their laughter, cries, and excited shouts blending together.

Some knelt on the ground, bowing their heads to thank Eternal Heaven; others rushed into the sea of flowers, pulled out the root ball and gently stroked it, their faces full of ecstatic joy and gratitude.

Su Rina scooped up Tuan Tuan, planted a heavy kiss on her little face and said, "You really are the little lucky star sent by Eternal Heaven!"

Tuan Tuan felt tickled by the kiss and giggled.

Sa Ren smiled as he watched them; Tuan Tuan twisted her little body to dodge Su Rina's kisses, and a chain around her neck became visible.

She walked over, gently pulled the chain off, intending to tidy it and put it back on, but when she saw the wolf fangs and bone ring on the chain, she froze in shock.

She looked up and scanned Xiao Ningxun's party.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please follow me."

The few exchanged glances, and Ha Ri Cha Gai asked, "We are all men; may we go inside?"

Sa Ren smiled, "You are friends of my Wu Dai tribe; no need to worry."

Only then did the group follow her into the felt tent.

The tent curtains dropped, separating the bright daylight outside from the faint cheers beyond.

Inside, the light was soft, suffused with a faint herbal fragrance.

Sa Ren sat cross‑legged on the woolen felt on the ground, gesturing for the others to sit as well.

She poured each a bowl of warm milk tea and said, "Thank you all today."

She gently nudged the tea bowl in front of Tuan Tuan toward her, her gaze landing on the child's round face: "Especially you, child. The Wu Dai tribe owes you a favor."

Tuan Tuan lifted the wooden bowl, sipping in small sips: "Who let those bastards look down on girls!"

Sa Ren smiled, "You came from afar, deep into the steppe, for the distressed Second Prince, right?"

The group was suddenly taken aback.

Ha Ri Cha Gai's eyes widened, while Qing Qing lowered her gaze in silence.

Xiao Ran's eyelids lifted slightly, and Xiao Ningxun's hand gripping the tea bowl paused.

Lu Qi and Xiao Er straightened their backs.

Only Tuan Tuan was still happily drinking milk tea.

Saren looked at them, evidently not surprised by their reaction.

She said evenly, "The news of Jifeng's capture only just spread, and you appear on the steppe; you couldn't have just come here to sightsee, could you?"

Xiao Ningxun set down the tea bowl and met her gaze: "Chief Saren, your eyes blaze like torches. We have indeed come for Jifeng."

"To rescue him?"

"To uncover the truth."

"Is there a difference?"

"Yes." Xiao Ningxun said seriously: "Jifeng is a friend of my sister, he once helped us in Da Xia. We trust his character, and we have come to clear his injustice."

"When a friend falls into trouble, how can one stand by idly?"

Saren understood, nodded, and said, "I see."

She gazed at the faint milky ripples in the bowl and let out a soft sigh.

"Do you know where Jifeng's maternal clan comes from?"

Qing Qing whispered, "I heard it's the White Deer Tribe?"

Saren nodded, "Yes, the White Deer Tribe. The oldest and also the most unique tribe on the steppe."

"They have guarded the Sacred Mountain's forbidden realm for generations. Legend says they are the mounts of the Immortal Heaven, descendants of the White Deer."

"All members of the White Deer Tribe are versed in medicine, and the tribe's holy woman presides over the triennial White Deer Festival."

"In the steppe people's hearts, they are not mortal, almost demi‑gods."

Her voice grew lower: "That was… an old story from over twenty years ago. Nowadays, few on the steppe know about it, I fear."

"The current Great Khan, though not of noble birth, rushed to establish authority after ascending the Khan's throne."

"He coveted the hereditary divinity of the White Deer Tribe and sought to take the then holy woman—Jifeng's mother—as his consort."

"By doing so he announced to the steppe that he had received the purest bloodline approval of the Immortal Heaven."

"But the White Deer Tribe refused."

"They live in seclusion, never meddle in tribal disputes, and are unwilling to be drawn into power struggles."

Saren lifted her eyes, and a layer of old dust seemed to veil her pupils:

"The Great Khan then used the pretext that the White Deer Tribe colluded with enemies and plotted treason, and dispatched troops to besiege the Sacred Mountain."

"That battle had no victor, only slaughter."

"Hundreds of the White Deer Tribe were almost wiped out, and the holy woman was forcibly taken to the Royal Court."