Chapter 897

When Tuoba Lie's one thousand elite cavalry appeared on the northern horizon, the sun was hanging at its zenith, and the sunlight made every scale on the surface of their iron armor shine with a blinding whiteness.

The banners were the gold-bottomed black eagle pattern unique to the Royal Court; five large flags were lined up, fluttering in the wind, and the copper bells tied to the tops of the flagpoles could be heard chiming from two or three li away.

On a high slope thirty li outside the Qifu tribe's camp, the scouts responsible for keeping watch ran their horses back twice. The first trip was to report that someone was coming, and the second was to report that there were far more people than imagined and they were fully armed.

Tuoba Lie did not set up camp thirty li away. He did not even dismount; the one thousand elite cavalry simply formed a square formation and stationed themselves at a distance from the outskirts of the Qifu tribe's camp where the tops of the tents could be seen, the light reflected by their iron armor forming a bright line.

A three-man scouting party split off from the front of the formation, and one of the cavalrymen held high an iron arrow wrapped in gold foil, with a black silk ribbon a palm's width wide tied to the shaft, the Royal Court's seal embroidered on the ribbon in gold thread.

The three riders ran to the front of the first fence on the outskirts of the Qifu tribe's camp, tied a stone to the golden arrow, and shot it from their horses into the camp; the arrow shaft vibrated with a hum as it stuck into the mud between the tents.

In addition to the black silk ribbon, a folded piece of cowhide paper was wrapped around the arrow shaft. When Qifugu's personal guards untied it and sent it into the Royal Tent, Qifugu was sitting on a gilded saddle, gnawing on a roasted lamb leg.

The personal guard presented the cowhide paper to the low table and unfolded it. Qifugu was still chewing meat, his eyes sweeping over the characters on it. He chewed three times but couldn't swallow, and the whole piece of meat was spat out of his mouth onto the ground.

"Five thousand sturdy cattle, two thousand warhorses, to be paid in full within ten days. After receiving the decree, the leader of the Qifu tribe is to come thirty li out of the camp to kneel and welcome the tax-collection mission."

When Qifugu read the word "kneel" at the end, he kicked the fire basin burning brightly in front of him. The fire basin overturned onto the ground, and the scorching charcoal blocks rolled everywhere; two of them flew onto the tent wall, burning charred, black holes into the cowhide.

"Kneel? Make this Khan kneel?"

His voice exploded in the tent, and the silver bells on the tent roof were shaken into a frantic chiming.

When Amu Ri rushed in from outside the tent, he was already carrying his horizontal blade.

"Great Khan, what happened?"

Qifugu snatched the cowhide paper from the low table and gripped it in his hand; the surface of the paper was soaked through by his hand sweat, turning translucent.

"That old bastard Yungeti sent one thousand men to force this Khan to pay five thousand cattle and two thousand horses, and he even wants this Khan to go thirty li out of the camp to kneel and receive his dog-shit golden arrow."

Amu Ri's horizontal blade spun once in his hand.

"What is the Great Khan's intention?"

Qifugu threw the crumpled cowhide paper onto the ground and stomped on it twice.

"Pass the order: all leaders are to come to the Royal Tent for a council. Anyone who cannot arrive within a quarter of an hour will be given twenty strokes of the staff!"

In less than a quarter of an hour, eleven people squeezed into the Royal Tent. Amu Ri and several old brothers who had followed Qifugu from the very beginning stood on the left, while on the right were several leaders of tribes that had been annexed later. Leading them was a thin old man named Bayar, who had originally been the second steward of the Puchang tribe and was arranged to manage the allocation of logistics and livestock after defecting to Qifugu.

Qifugu picked up the cowhide paper that had been trampled into a mess from the ground and shook it open in front of everyone in the tent.

"Look, Yungeti's tax collection order: five thousand cattle, two thousand horses, to be paid within ten days."

There was silence in the tent for three breaths, and then Amu Ri was the first to speak, his voice not much smaller than Qifugu's.

"Pay my ass! The Great Khan now has over ten thousand men under arms; when has the Qifu tribe ever needed to kneel to pay taxes to anyone?"

Amu Ri's horizontal blade slapped against his thigh with a clatter.

"What are those one thousand people outside? With one word from the Great Khan, I will lead three thousand men to charge out and grind them into meat paste!"

Two young leaders standing next to him also began to shout.

"Exactly, Yungeti doesn't dare to come himself, so he sent one thousand people to scare whom?"

"If the Great Khan pays the cattle and horses, Yungeti will come to extract them every year, and sooner or later we will be extracted into dried corpses!"

The faces of the old leaders on the right were uglier than the next. Bayar's hands rested on his knees, his fingers trembling. After the young hotheads on the left finished shouting, he spoke with a trembling voice.

"Great Khan, let this old man say something unpleasant."

Qifugu tilted his head to look at him.

Bayar swallowed his saliva, his voice carrying a hoarseness as if crushed by something.

"Those one thousand people outside are Royal Court elites; one of them is worth ten of ours. The iron armor on their bodies is forged from Uz iron; whether our horizontal blades can cut through it is questionable." Bayar's voice carried a dry hoarseness of resignation, his palms pressing down on his knees as if he would collapse to the ground if he didn't hold himself up.

"If the Great Khan goes head-to-head with the Royal Court, that's not fighting a war, that's throwing eggs against a rock."

Amu Ri took two steps across and slapped Bayar on the back of the head. The old man was knocked forward, his shoulder hitting the tent pole before he stood steady.

"Bullshit! Your Puchang tribe was turned into an empty shell because the Royal Court drained your able-bodied men. When your clansmen starved to death on the grassland, did you kneel to pay taxes? Was it useful? Now you are still speaking for them?"

Bayar turned around, holding onto the tent pole, his expression twisting between fear and grievance, his lips trembling three times before he squeezed out a sound.

"I am not speaking for them, Amu Ri, listen to me finish. I am afraid that the Great Khan's foundation will be destroyed in one day." He reached out and pointed toward the outside of the tent, his fingertips shaking uncontrollably. "There are tens of thousands of troops under the Royal Court. One thousand came today. If the Great Khan kills these one thousand, ten thousand can come tomorrow, and thirty thousand the day after. What do we have to resist with? What do we have to resist with?"

"Resist with our lives!" Amu Ri's voice shook the silver bells on the tent roof into a chime.

"I have been killing people on horseback for twenty years; when have I ever been afraid of anyone?"

Another old leader named Tarhan took half a step forward, blocking Bayar behind him, his voice lower than Bayar's.

"Bayar is right, Great Khan, think twice. Five thousand cattle and two thousand horses are painful, but it's better than the total annihilation of the army." He arched his hands toward Qifugu. "After paying, we still have capital, and we can recover after resting for two years. If we don't pay..."

"What if we don't pay?" Amu Ri kicked over a low stool nearby. The stool surface, missing a leg, flew out and brushed past Tarhan's ear. Tarhan's neck instinctively tilted to the right, and his face turned a layer whiter.

"You old useless things only know how to send things to buy your lives. If you send five thousand today, will you pay if Yungeti asks for ten thousand tomorrow? What if he wants the Great Khan's military power the day after? Will you also tie up the Great Khan's head and send it to him the day after that?"

"Amu Ri, don't go too far!" Tarhan's voice suddenly rose, roaring back with the blue veins on his neck stretched tight. "The eight hundred herdsmen I brought can leave whenever they want. Look at how many people are left in your camp to graze for you!"

The tent was completely in an uproar. The hotheads on the left were patting their scabbards and shouting to fight, while the old leaders on the right were shouting to make peace. Both sides shouted until their voices reached the highest pitch. Amu Ri pulled his horizontal blade halfway out, pointing it at Tarhan's nose. Tarhan shrank back, his heels tripping on the folds of the carpet, and he fell to the ground.

Qifugu sat on the gilded saddle, his horizontal blade across his knees, watching this group of people arguing into a pot of porridge.

Five thousand cattle, two thousand horses.

The total number of sturdy cattle under his command was less than twenty thousand, and there were just over four thousand warhorses. Paying this tax was equivalent to hollowing out thirty percent of his foundation, and he shouldn't even think about recovering his vitality within two years. But if he didn't pay, Yungeti's one thousand iron cavalry were forming a formation on the slope three li away, and he had seen with his own eyes the scene of that iron armor forming a bright line under the sun.

The tent flap was suddenly lifted from the outside.

First, a gust of cold wind poured in, and everyone's voices in the tent cut off in unison, followed by two unhurried steps of boots on the carpet, accompanied by the faint clinking of ironware colliding.

When Gao Jiong walked in wearing that old leather coat, the hilt of the short blade at his waist was still stained with dried blood from slaughtering sheep that morning. Behind him followed Songqi, who had his hand on his saber hilt. As the two stood in the tent, the two groups of leaders who had been biting at each other all fell silent.

Gao Jiong swept a glance at the flushed hotheads on the left, then swept a glance at the shrinking old leaders on the right, his mouth curling downward.

"What are you arguing about? This official heard it from outside the tent; it's louder than horses neighing."

He walked to the center of the tent and stood still, his gaze pausing on the faces of Bayar and Tarhan.

"Seeking peace?" Gao Jiong's voice dragged out a tone, like the sound of iron on a whetstone.

"When you fled from the Puchang tribe, was it also by kneeling to pay taxes to Yungeti?"

Bayar did not make a sound, his shoulders collapsing an inch.

"And after paying?" Gao Jiong took a step forward, his boot tip almost stepping on Bayar's instep. "Your able-bodied men were drained, your livestock were driven away, and when your wives and children starved to death in the tents, where were you? Do you think that by kneeling one more time, Yungeti will let the Qifu tribe go?"

Bayar's lips moved twice, his Adam's apple rolled once, but he did not make a sound in the end.

Gao Jiong stopped looking at him, turned to face Qifugu, walked straight to the low table, and pinned his gaze on Qifugu's face through the layer of heat rising from the embers of the fire basin.

"Great Khan, this official will ask you one question, and you will answer this official."

Gao Jiong's voice was not high, but that heavy force was like a stone thrown into a deep well. Everyone in the tent, from the hotheads who were still panting to the old leaders huddled in the corners, fell silent, even the rhythm of their breathing lowered by half.

Qifugu lifted his chin, his fingers resting on the hilt of his horizontal blade without letting go.

"Ask."

Gao Jiong did not speak immediately, but stretched out a finger and pointed toward the outside of the tent, in the direction of that bright line formed by iron armor three li away.

"Today Yungeti wants five thousand cattle and two thousand horses. You pay, and he knows you are afraid."

Qifugu did not make a sound, the muscles of his jaw tightening.

Gao Jiong withdrew his finger, held up a second one, his speaking speed slowing down, every word like a nail being driven into Qifugu's ears.

"Tomorrow he will want ten thousand."

The third finger went up.

"The day after tomorrow he will want your military power."

The tent was so quiet that even the sound of charcoal ash collapsing in the fire basin could be heard.

The fourth finger went up.

"The day after that he will want your head."

Four fingers were spread out in front of Qifugu. Gao Jiong's palm was as steady as if cast in iron, and everyone in the tent heard clearly.

Amu Ri stood on the left, his hand gripping the scabbard already loosened, his lips pressed into a straight line, staring at Gao Jiong's hand.

Bayar opened his mouth to say something, but Tarhan pulled his sleeve, and he closed his mouth again.

"Will you pay or not?"

Gao Jiong withdrew the four fingers, clenched them into a fist at his side, his gaze never moving from Qifugu's face.

Qifugu's fingers tightened on the hilt, the knuckles bulging and turning white, stretching the stitching on the leather. No one in the tent dared to make a sound, only the sound of the wind rolling over the tent roof muffled above everyone's heads.

"Great Khan." Amu Ri took a step forward, his voice much lower than before, but the meaning in his tone had not changed. "This subordinate will say something unpleasant: Yungeti's blade is already at your neck. If you retreat one step, he will advance one step. There is no bottom."

"Shut up." Qifugu did not look at Amu Ri, his eyes fixed on the fist Gao Jiong had withdrawn.

The tent was quiet again.

Qifugu's fingers loosened one by one on the hilt, the white marks from the knuckles slowly returning to their blood color.

"Tell me what to do."

When these five words were squeezed out of Qifugu's throat, Bayar's shoulders collapsed, Tarhan's lips trembled, but he did not speak in the end, and someone among the hotheads on the left let out a long breath.

Gao Jiong did not reply, turned, and reached out a hand toward Songqi behind him. Songqi pulled a roll of something from the leather pouch at his waist and handed it over. Gao Jiong took it, pulled his palm out of his sleeve, and slapped a piece of sheepskin map onto the low table with a *slap*, causing the copper oil lamp on the low table to jump, the wick tilting and then straightening back up.

"Tuoba Lie's foundation is all on this."

Qifugu's gaze landed on the sheepskin map, the cinnabar marks on it glowing with a dark red color in the light of the oil lamp.

Gao Jiong pointed his index finger at the edge of the map, where dense circles and line segments were marked in cinnabar.

"Where his one thousand men came from, where the supply route is, how fast the reinforcements can arrive at the earliest—it's all here."

Amu Ri couldn't help but lean over, craning his neck to glance at the low table, his breathing becoming heavier.

"Lord Gao, where did this come from?"

"The Great Khan can see for himself." Gao Jiong did not answer Amu Ri's question, his index finger sliding along a cinnabar line segment on the map, his fingertip stopping at the position of a circle. "His supply route passes through here, taking that dry river valley on the northern slope, with a total of three hundred packhorses for supplies, and the guards protecting the grain do not exceed two hundred."

Qifugu braced his knees and stood up, his horizontal blade sliding off his thigh and resting on the edge of the saddle. He did not reach out to steady it, but leaned over and brought his face close to the map.

"What is this line?"

"His retreat route." Gao Jiong's index finger moved to the left. "Tuoba Lie's one thousand men are light cavalry; the iron armor is worn for you to see. The provisions inside cannot last five days. If he doesn't receive the tribute within five days, he must retreat. There is only this one road for retreat."

"Five days?" Qifugu straightened up, his eyes fixed on Gao Jiong's face. "Are you sure?"

"This official stakes his head on it." Gao Jiong patted the edge of the map to flatten the curled sheepskin. "This map was stepped out step by step by my men who followed Tuoba Lie's supply train for half a month. Every circle is a place where they camped, and every line is a road they walked."

Tarhan climbed up from the ground, patted the dust off his buttocks, and also leaned toward the low table, the panic on his face not yet faded, but there was something else in his eyes.

"Does Lord Gao mean... cut off his supply route?"

"Not just cut off the supply route." Gao Jiong turned to face everyone in the tent, the hotheads on the left and the old leaders on the right all looking at him. "Once the supply route is cut, Tuoba Lie's one thousand men will be turtles in a jar; he won't be able to run."

Amu Ri slammed his horizontal blade back into its scabbard, the air in his chest finally smoothing out.

"Fuck his mother! I said we couldn't kneel. Lord Gao, why didn't you take this thing out earlier!"

"If I had taken it out earlier, would you have been able to argue?" Gao Jiong glanced at him.

Amu Ri choked, grinned, and did not reply.

Qifugu sat back down on the gilded saddle, picked up the horizontal blade and placed it back on his knees, his gaze sweeping back and forth across the map twice, his fingers slowly sliding along the dry river valley marked in cinnabar, stopping when he reached the end.

"Two hundred men on the supply route, one thousand in the main formation, totaling twelve hundred." He lifted his head to look at Gao Jiong. "How many men should I send?"

"Two routes." Gao Jiong held up two fingers. "Five hundred men to block the supply route, one thousand men to hold Tuoba Lie from the front. Within five days, his horses will be too hungry to stand, and it won't be too late for the Great Khan to close the net."

Qifugu tapped his fingers on the back of the blade twice, the muffled sound particularly clear in the quiet tent.

"Amu Ri."

"Here!"

"Lead five hundred men to block that river valley, bring enough dry rations for three days, and have Songqi go with you; he knows the way."

Songqi nodded slightly behind Gao Jiong and loosened his hand from the saber hilt.

Qifugu's gaze swept across the faces of everyone in the tent and finally returned to Gao Jiong.

"Five days."

Gao Jiong's mouth moved, not sure if it was a smile or some other expression.

"Five days is enough."