Chapter 895

The Qifu Tribe's new camp had grown seven or eight times over in half a year. The tents had expanded from the initial hundred-plus into a gray-white ocean stretching for several miles. Looking down from the high slope, cattle, sheep, and horses filled every gully and every flat beach. The dense herds of livestock squirmed in the morning mist, and the hoofprints they left turned the pasture into a muddy mess.

Qifugu's new royal tent was pitched on the top of the low hill in the middle of the camp. The tent walls had been replaced with thick material of three layers of cowhide sandwiching a layer of felt, and the copper bells on the tent roof had been replaced with silver bells looted from the Helan Tribe. Two three-zhang-high flagpoles were erected on the left and right in front of the tent, with wolf-head flags sewn from white silk cloth hanging from the tops. The silk was high-quality Shu brocade that had flowed out of the Great Zhou trade fair, and when it fluttered in the wind, one could see the faint, cold light emitted by the silk threads in the sunlight.

The interior of the tent was covered with an entire black bear skin, and the low platform had been replaced with a one-foot-high solid wood platform. On the platform sat a captured gilded saddle used as a chair, and the four walls of the tent were hung with brightly colored silk curtains, completely covering the originally rough cowhide.

Qifugu sat on that gilded saddle, his two hands resting on his knees, his horizontal blade laid across his thighs, his gaze sweeping down from above the platform at the heads of the people kneeling all over the tent floor.

Eight tribal chieftains—some who had surrendered when they were annexed, others who had later brought their herdsmen to defect voluntarily—lay neatly on the black bear skin, their foreheads pressed against the ground, not even daring to let out a loud breath.

Amuri stood on the right side of the platform, holding a wooden tray in his hands. On the tray was a leather crown sewn from white silver foil and fox fur, with an eagle feather inserted at the top; the eagle feather trembled slightly in the heat inside the tent.

"Leader, the brothers' heartfelt wishes are all here." Amuri pushed the wooden tray forward half a pace, his voice raised so that everyone in the tent could hear clearly.

"The Qifu Tribe now has over ten thousand men under arms, one hundred thousand head of cattle and sheep, four thousand warhorses, and territory connecting from east to south. Within a radius of three hundred miles, no tribe dares to bare its fangs at our banner."

Amuri pushed the tray toward Qifugu, his voice rising another notch.

"The brothers have said that the eastern grassland cannot be without a backbone. Leader, please take the trouble to sit in this position for everyone."

Among the chieftains lying on the ground, an old man with a gray beard was the first to lift his head and kowtow three times.

"Lord Qifu is the heaven of our eastern grassland. Without Lord Qifu taking us in, my family, old and young, would have frozen to death in the snow last winter. Harile is willing to serve Lord Qifu as the Eastern Khan!"

The second chieftain also lifted his head, his forehead knocked into a patch of red.

"Batulu is willing to serve Lord Qifu as the Eastern Khan!"

The third, the fourth, the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth—like dominoes, one after another, they lifted their heads and shouted the same words. The shouting in the tent converged into a buzzing vibration, causing the silver bells on the tent roof to tremble with a light jingle.

Qifugu sat on the gilded saddle without moving, his palm pressed against the hilt of his horizontal blade. He pressed for the duration of a dozen breaths before slowly standing up.

He reached out and picked up the leather crown from the wooden tray Amuri was holding, turned it over twice in his hands, and his fingertips rubbed against the rough white silver foil on the crown's surface.

"Who made this crown?"

Amuri grinned.

"The brothers pooled the silver and found an old silversmith from the Seleng Tribe to forge it overnight. Although the craftsmanship is a bit rough, the intention is sufficient."

Qifugu held the leather crown up to the position of his head to compare it, and the corners of his mouth pulled apart, revealing a row of teeth yellowed by mare's milk wine.

"The two words 'Khan'—do you know what weight they carry?"

Amuri knelt down, his knees hitting the black bear skin with a dull thud.

"The brothers aren't afraid of the weight; the brothers are only afraid that the leader won't be willing to sit."

Qifugu placed the leather crown on his head, the eagle feather swaying twice in front of his forehead. He turned to face the chieftains lying low in the tent, drew his horizontal blade from his waist, and held the tip of the blade toward the sky above his head.

"Good. Since you all feel that this leader is worthy of this title, then from today on, the Qifu Tribe will no longer be anyone's vassal."

His voice rolled out from his chest, carrying a hoarseness burned hot by the desire for power.

"Raise the flag! From today on, my white wolf flag will stand on equal footing with Wen Geti's golden eagle flag."

Outside the tent, it was unknown who led the way, but a horsewhip cracked in the night sky, followed immediately by successive cheers and the neighing of warhorses. The entire camp boiled over at that moment.

When the news reached the row of inconspicuous small tents at the edge of the camp, Gao Jiong was squatting on a stone at the entrance of his own dilapidated tent, clutching a piece of dried meat in his hand. He chewed twice without swallowing, listening to the commotion coming from afar and the word "Khan" drifting over intermittently.

When Songqi ran over from the side, he was out of breath.

"Boss, Qifugu has declared himself Khan. He raised a white wolf flag in front of the tent and even wore a silver leather crown."

Gao Jiong chewed the piece of dried meat in his mouth and swallowed it, wiped the grease from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, stood up from the stone, and patted the grass clippings off his backside.

"Good thing."

Songqi stared at him with wide eyes.

"Boss, you call this a good thing? He's self-proclaimed Khan now, which is equivalent to openly challenging Wen Geti. If this summons Wen Geti's grand army, and we're still holed up in his camp, won't we all be crushed into meat pies together?"

Gao Jiong fished a piece of thin paper the size of a palm from a hidden compartment at his waist and spread it out on his knees, his charcoal pencil flying rapidly as he wrote something on it.

"Qifugu has over ten thousand men under arms, four thousand warhorses; today he declared himself Eastern Small Khan and raised a white wolf flag."

He folded the paper into a thin strip one finger wide, pulled a hollow bamboo tube from his boot shaft, stuffed the paper strip inside, and sealed the opening with wax.

"Tie this to the leg of a carrier pigeon and send it out."

When Songqi took the bamboo tube, his fingers touched Gao Jiong's fingertips, which were as cold as a piece of iron.

"Boss, did you know he was going to declare himself Khan all along?"

Gao Jiong squatted back onto the stone and fished another piece of dried meat from his bosom to stick in his mouth.

"Amuri started forging that silver leather crown five days ago. The silversmith is in the tent area of the Seleng Tribe refugees; did you think I didn't know?"

Songqi tucked the bamboo tube away and hesitated.

"Then after the Pillar of State knows, how will he arrange things?"

Gao Jiong chewed the dried meat, his voice muddled and unclear.

"The Pillar of State will send a congratulatory gift."

Three days later, twelve ox carts fully loaded with goods rolled over from the southern grassland. The wheels pressed two deep ruts into the mud, and the carts were covered with coarse burlap, bulging as if filled with something, and all the drivers were the fifty or so men under Gao Jiong's command.

Gao Jiong himself rode a short-legged horse at the very front of the caravan, still wearing that old fur coat washed white, with an inconspicuous short blade tucked at his waist, looking exactly like a small merchant traveling north and south.

There were two more rows of spear-wielding guards in front of Qifugu's royal tent, each with a white cloth strip tied to their shoulders, serving as the sign of the new dynasty. When Gao Jiong rode his horse through the middle of those two rows of guards, a young guard leveled his spear in front of him.

"Dismount! What kind of rule is it to not dismount when seeing the Khan's royal tent?"

Gao Jiong looked down at the spear leveled in front of him, moving the dried meat in his mouth from the left side to the right.

"Report to your Khan and say that Great Zhou Xiazhou Chief Clerk Gao Jiong has come to deliver a congratulatory gift."

The guard was stunned, looked back at his companion, and gestured with his chin toward the direction of the tent.

Gao Jiong waited for less than a quarter of an hour before the tent curtain was lifted from inside. Amuri revealed half his face and beckoned to Gao Jiong.

"Lord Gao, please enter. The Khan is waiting."

Gao Jiong vaulted off his horse, tossed the reins to Songqi, and lifted the curtain to enter the tent.

Qifugu was wearing a new robe today, with gold thread embroidered on the collar and cuffs. That silver leather crown was perched squarely on his head, and as he sat on the gilded saddle, he truly looked more like someone who could accomplish great things than before.

"Lord Gao, you've come just in time. This Khan was just looking for you."

Gao Jiong stood still inside the tent, not kneeling, merely cupping his hands in a salute.

"Congratulations to the Khan on ascending the throne. Under the orders of the Xiazhou Governor's Office, this subordinate has come specifically to present a thin gift from Great Zhou, wishing the Khan a hundred victories in a hundred battles and a long-lasting foundation."

Qifugu's eyebrows arched upward.

"What gift?"

Gao Jiong gestured with his chin toward outside the tent curtain.

"Twelve carts of goods. Khan, have your men move them in to see."

Amuri took men outside to lift the coarse burlap, then carried three wooden chests inside and placed them on the open ground in the tent. When the lids were lifted, beneath the oil-paper wrapping were densely packed horizontal blade hilts and neatly arranged leather armor.

Qifugu stood up from the saddle, walked to the chest, and squatted down. He reached in and pulled out a horizontal blade, turned it over in his hands, and the iron color of the blade reflected a dark, cyan-colored cold luster under the light of the brazier.

"Horizontal blade?"

Gao Jiong stood to the side with his arms crossed.

"One thousand two hundred horizontal blades, eight hundred sets of leather armor—all standard-issue equipment from the Great Zhou Weaponry Bureau."

Qifugu weighed the horizontal blade in his hand, then drew a second one to compare the weight, the corners of his mouth pulling upward.

"Goods from the Weaponry Bureau? Not those iron scraps sold to retail buyers at the trade fair?"

Gao Jiong casually picked up a set of leather armor from the wooden chest and shook it out. A layer of thin iron plates was sewn onto the surface of the leather armor, the stitches at the seams looked neat, and the buckles and straps were all complete.

"Standard-issue equipment, the kind that can't be cut through with one stroke when worn."

Qifugu stood up, the horizontal blade still in his hand, not put down. His gaze withdrew from the densely packed blade hilts in the wooden chest and fell onto Gao Jiong's face.

That gaze slowly changed from greed into something else, like the vigilance and gloom of a wolf pack watching a feeder on the grassland in winter.

"Lord Gao."

Gao Jiong didn't stop chewing the dried meat.

"Hmm?"

Qifugu slowly raised the horizontal blade in his hand. The blade moved from low to high, and finally, the back of the blade pressed against the side of Gao Jiong's neck. The cold iron touching his skin made the fine hairs on Gao Jiong's neck stand up.

"Your Pillar of State—where exactly does he want this Khan to die?"

The air inside the tent suddenly turned cold. Amuri's hand moved to the hilt of the blade at his waist, and the footsteps of the two rows of spear-wielding guards outside the tent curtain sounded fragmented.

Gao Jiong still had the piece of dried meat in his mouth, unswallowed. He tilted his head to look at the horizontal blade pressed against his neck, the edge less than two fingers wide from his throat.

"What does the Khan mean by this?"

Qifugu's wrist turned at an angle, and the blade moved from the side of his neck to the front, aiming at Gao Jiong's Adam's apple.

"I ask you: Great Zhou sends horses, sends grain, sends blades, sends armor, and from beginning to end, hasn't asked this Khan for a single rivet in return. Is there such a business of giving things away for free under heaven?"

Gao Jiong's Adam's apple rolled once beneath the blade.

"What does the Khan think?"

Qifugu pushed the blade forward an inch, the pressure of the edge making Gao Jiong's neck tilt backward.

"This Khan thinks that Great Zhou is using the Qifu Tribe as a blade, using this Khan as a mad dog. Once this Khan and Wen Geti are both battered and exhausted, your Pillar of State can sit back and reap the profits."

Gao Jiong stared at Qifugu's eyes; the bloodshot veins and wariness in those eyes had increased by two layers compared to their last meeting.

Outside the tent curtain came the sound of Songqi's boots pacing back and forth restlessly on the mud, the buckles of his leather armor clinking together.

Gao Jiong chewed the dried meat in his mouth and swallowed it. As his Adam's apple rolled up and down, it hit the edge of the blade, and a line of blood beads emerged from his neck, flowing down along the surface of the blade.

He raised his right hand, clamped the two sides of the blade with his index and middle fingers, and slowly pushed it outward half an inch.

"If the Khan thinks this official is here to harm you, then return these twelve carts of goods. This official will turn around and leave right now, and from this day forward, Great Zhou won't give you a single grain of food or a single broken blade."

Qifugu's hand didn't loosen, and the blade remained held there.

Gao Jiong withdrew his fingers from the blade, wiped the blood wound on his neck, and rubbed his bloody fingers on the front lapel of his fur coat.

"However, before this official leaves, I must ask the Khan one thing."

Qifugu narrowed his eyes.

Gao Jiong gestured with his chin toward outside the tent, his voice carrying a light, sharp edge of sarcasm.

"Without Great Zhou's millet, what would the Khan have eaten last winter? Without Great Zhou's blades, what would the Khan have used to hack the people of the Helan Tribe? Without Great Zhou pointing the way, would the Khan still be gnawing on dead horse bones in the snow, unable to even patch a hole in a tent?"

Qifugu's wrist tightened, and the blade pushed forward another half-inch.

Gao Jiong didn't dodge, and another line of blood appeared on his neck, seeping down along the collar.

"The Khan should think clearly: if this blade cuts down, what will the ten thousand men under your command eat tomorrow? When Wen Geti's tax collectors come, what will you use to block them?"

The tent was silent for the duration of five breaths, with only the charcoal in the brazier occasionally popping with a faint sound.

Qifugu's blade slowly withdrew from Gao Jiong's neck, the action of sheathing the blade carrying a murderous aura that hadn't completely dissipated.

"Then this Khan will ask you one more thing: what exactly is your Pillar of State plotting?"

Gao Jiong pulled a rag from his sleeve and pressed it against the blood wound on his neck, hissed, and changed his tone to continue.

"As long as the Khan sits firmly in the east, Wen Geti must divide his troops to watch you. The more people watching you, the fewer troops Wen Geti can press against the Xiazhou Trade Fair in the south. If the trade fair is peaceful, Great Zhou makes money, the Khan earns grain—each gets what they need, nothing more."

Qifugu stared at him for seven or eight breaths, his fingers still resting on the hilt of the blade without loosening.

"Just that?"

Gao Jiong took the rag off his neck and looked at it; the blood had stopped flowing, leaving only a shallow cut.

"Does the Khan insist on this official speaking to the very end?"

Qifugu sat back down on the gilded saddle.

"Speak."

Gao Jiong walked to the wooden chest in the tent, casually picked up a set of leather armor, and turned it over twice in his hands.

"Great Zhou needs someone on the grassland who can arm-wrestle with Wen Geti. It doesn't matter who this person is—it could be Qifugu, or it could be someone else—but right now, the one with the best chance is you, Khan."

He tossed the leather armor back into the chest and turned to look at Qifugu.

"Great Zhou is cultivating a position, not a person. If the Khan can hold this position, Great Zhou will keep sending benefits to the Khan. If you can't hold it, Great Zhou will just find the next one."

Qifugu's fingers loosened on the hilt of the blade. He leaned back against the backrest of the saddle and tilted his chin to look at the silver bells swaying on the tent roof.

"You brat certainly speak directly."

Gao Jiong tucked the rag back into his sleeve.

"Does the Khan prefer to hear things crooked?"

Qifugu suddenly laughed, the laughter rolling out from his chest, carrying the heartiness of someone who had survived a great storm.

"Alright, alright, I'll believe you once."

He stood up from the saddle, strode to the wooden chest, picked out two horizontal blades, and weighed them. The blades hit each other, emitting two crisp iron sounds.

"This Khan will accept these things. Later, I'll have Amuri send you two good horses as a thank-you gift."

Gao Jiong cupped his hands in a salute and turned to walk toward the tent curtain.

"Khan, enjoy them well. This official takes his leave."

When the tent curtain fell, Songqi was almost pressed against the outside of the curtain, both hands pressed against his waist blade, his knuckles as white as if they had just been fished out of snow water.

"Boss, your neck..."

Gao Jiong waved a hand at him and vaulted onto his horse.

"Let's go, we'll talk when we get back."

The two spurred their horses away from the royal tent area and only slowed down when they reached the vicinity of their own tent at the edge of the camp.

Songqi leaned over from his horse.

"Boss, did he really want to hack you just now?"

Gao Jiong fished a leather bag from his waist and took a sip of water, which flowed down the corner of his mouth and wetted the scabbed wound on his neck.

"If he really wanted to hack, he wouldn't have wasted so many words."

Songqi breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his voice again.

"Those twelve carts of blades and armor—is the Pillar of State really willing to give him such good things?"

Gao Jiong tightened the opening of the leather bag and tucked it back at his waist, his mouth twisting to the side; that smile was chillingly cold in the twilight.

"Good things?"

Songqi was stunned.

Gao Jiong spurred his horse to continue forward, his voice lowered to a level only the two of them could hear.

"The stitching thread for that batch of leather armor is made of inferior, damp hemp rope. It looks sturdy when first made, but once it gets wet with sweat, it starts to rot in half a month. In battle, it falls apart after taking a single blow."

Songqi's mouth hung open for a long time without closing.

Gao Jiong fished a piece of dried meat from his bosom and stuck it in his mouth, continuing muddled and unclear.

"Those horizontal blades look intimidating, but the wooden pegs inside the hilts are hollow. After a dozen hacks, the hilt separates from the blade."

A layer of cold sweat broke out on Songqi's back.

"Boss, isn't this setting him up..."

Gao Jiong chewed the dried meat, that smile still hanging on his face.

"The Pillar of State never intended for Qifugu to survive this game of chess from the beginning. He only needs him to live long enough—long enough to live until the day he crushes the last of Wen Geti's bottom lines."

Songqi's lips moved, wanting to say something but swallowing it back.

Gao Jiong spurred his horse to the entrance of his tent. By the time he vaulted off the horse, it was completely dark. The campfires burned in clusters here and there, and occasionally there came the lowing of cattle and the voices of herdsmen in the distance driving livestock back to their pens.

"Songqi."

"Boss."

Gao Jiong paused as he lifted the tent curtain, looking back at the two white wolf-head flags fluttering in the night wind in the direction of the royal tent in the distance.

"Once a gu-insect is fed fat, it's time to let it bite the hardest bone."

The tent curtain fell behind him, and the night wind blew the white wolf-head flag above the camp, making it snap; in the moonlight, the flag looked like a piece of stretched-out dead man's skin.

And thousands of miles away at the Rouran Royal Court, Wen Geti was sitting behind the solid wood table in the grand tent, with a secret silk scroll sent back by a fast horse from a dark agent in the east spread out before him.

His right hand pressed against the tabletop, the veins on the back of his hand bulging, his eyeballs sweeping back and forth over the lines of characters on the silk scroll three times.

He pressed the five characters "Eastern Small Khan" forcefully beneath the tabletop, and the entire solid wood table split open with a crack running through the middle under the force of his palm. The crack extended from the tabletop to the table legs, and wood shavings fell down in a flurry.

Wen Geti's eyes were blood-red, and the rage surging from his chest burned the air inside the tent to a crisp.