Chapter 903

On the southern pasture of the Rouran Royal Court, three warhorses covered in wounds staggered out from the end of the horizon. The people slumped on the horses' backs were indistinguishable as alive or dead. Most of their iron armor was shattered, and the remaining plates clattered as they fell off with the jolting of the horses. Blood dripped from them onto the grass where the horses' hooves had trodden, leaving an intermittent red line.

The grazing herdsmen were the first to see them; they dropped their whips and ran toward the Royal Court camp, shouting.

The three wounded horses were intercepted in front of the first outpost on the perimeter of the Royal Court. When the sentries unloaded the three men from the horses' backs, one had already stopped breathing and his body had stiffened. The other two still had breath but were unconscious. The undergarments beneath their armor were pasted into a shell by blood and mud, making it impossible to tell where the wounds were and where the normal skin was.

After the two who were alive were fed water and had their faces slapped, one of them barely woke up. His lips were so cracked that he couldn't even speak clearly, and the words squeezed from his throat were shattered into dregs.

"All... all finished... Lord Tuoba... is dead... the whole army... is gone..."

It took less than half a quarter of an hour for the news to travel from the outer outpost to the inner guards and then to the personal guards in front of the main tent.

Wen Geti was sitting in the main tent reviewing the horse inventory lists submitted by various tribes. Seven or eight scrolls of bamboo slips were stacked on his left, and a bowl of mare's milk tea that had already gone cold sat on his right. The tip of his brush was halfway through a stroke on a bamboo slip when the tent curtain was lifted from the outside.

The sound of Batu's boots hitting the carpet was three times faster than usual. When he reached the front of the desk, Wen Geti looked up and saw his complexion; a layer of unnatural grayish-white floated on that face, which was usually as steady as a rock.

"What is it?"

Batu knelt on one knee, his clasped hands trembling imperceptibly in front of his chest.

"Great Khan, the vanguard army has been defeated."

The brush in Wen Geti's hand stopped on the bamboo slip, and the ink at the tip seeped into a larger and larger dot on the bamboo surface.

"What does 'defeated' mean? Speak clearly."

Batu's Adam's apple rolled once, his voice pressed to a level only the two of them could hear.

"Tuoba Lie was killed in battle. The one thousand elite vanguard troops were completely wiped out, with no survivors. Only three wounded horses carried back three half-dead soldiers."

The brush slipped from Wen Geti's fingers. The brush handle hit the edge of the desk, bounced, and rolled onto the carpet, leaving an ink stain on that off-white wool rug.

The tent was silent for five breaths.

The movement of Wen Geti standing up from behind the desk was unnaturally slow, like a piece of frozen wood trying to bend its joints. His hands pressed on the desktop, the veins on the back of his hands bulging from beneath the skin, his ten fingers looking as if they wanted to crush the solid wood desk.

"Completely wiped out."

Batu kept his head lowered and did not look up.

"Completely wiped out."

Wen Geti's hands released the desktop; as he let go, his fingernails scraped five white marks into the wood. His body swayed twice to the side, his left hand bracing the corner of the table. When his mouth opened, a mouthful of black-red blood surged up from his throat and sprayed onto the spread-out bamboo slips and horse inventory lists on the desk.

Beads of blood splashed into a dozen dark red flowers over the writing on the bamboo slips.

Batu sprang up from the ground and grabbed Wen Geti's arm.

"Great Khan!"

Wen Geti shook his hand off with enough force to make Batu stagger back two steps. He raised his sleeve and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth indiscriminately. Those eyes were so red they looked as if they were soaked in blood, and the things burning in his pupils scorched the air inside the tent.

"Tuoba Lie had three thousand iron-clad troops! How could they lose to a group of sheep-herding slaves!"

Batu steadied himself, his voice squeezed from the bottom of his throat.

"Great Khan, Tuoba Lie only took one thousand men, not three thousand."

Wen Geti's fist slammed onto the desk, and the bamboo slips soaked in blood were shaken, two of them rolling off the table.

"One thousand elites! One thousand elites of the Royal Court! Fighting against Qifugu, who was eating dead horse meat in the snow half a year ago, and all one thousand elites died? Is Tuoba Lie a pig!"

The personal guards outside the tent heard the commotion inside but no one dared to lift the curtain to enter; their footsteps paced back and forth outside the tent curtain, creating a chaotic mess of sound.

Batu waited for Wen Geti's rage to burn past its fiercest point before speaking again.

"Great Khan, the soldier who ran back woke up and explained what happened. Tuoba Lie fell into an ambush. They were surrounded and killed in the Chaotic Rock Valley, thirty miles north of the Qifu Tribe's camp. Qifugu mobilized at least three thousand men. The ambushers on the cliffs on both sides blocked the valley entrance and tail with giant rocks. Once Tuoba Lie went in, he was a turtle in a jar."

Wen Geti's chest heaved violently several times, and another mouthful of blood surged to his throat, which he swallowed back hard. When he swallowed, a muffled sound came from his throat.

"When did Qifugu learn to set ambushes? A group of herdsmen who were milking sheep yesterday—who taught them to set ambushes on the cliffs? Who gave them the intelligence to know which road Tuoba Lie would take?"

Batu's gaze lifted from the carpet, his voice pressed even lower.

"Great Zhou."

Wen Geti swept the bowl of cold mare's milk tea off the desk, bowl and all, onto the ground. The porcelain bowl shattered, and the tea splashed onto the tips of Batu's boots.

"Great Zhou! It's Great Zhou again!"

He circled out from behind the desk and paced back and forth in the tent five or six times, each step carrying the force of iron boots crushing the ground. The wooden boards beneath the carpet creaked as he stepped on them.

"First they fed them with grain at the trade fair, then they gave them weapons and armor, and now they are even teaching them hand-in-hand how to fight. What exactly does that brat sitting in Xiazhou City want to do!"

Batu stood where he was without moving, waiting until Wen Geti had finished his seventh lap and stopped before speaking.

"Great Khan, now is not the time to investigate the cause. The news of Tuoba Lie's entire army being wiped out cannot be hidden. Within three days at most, all the vassal tribes will know. By then..."

Wen Geti turned and stared at him.

"What happens by then?"

A layer of gravity that even he couldn't control added to Batu's voice.

"By then, Qifugu in the east will no longer be a joke of a minor Khan. He will be a victor who has truly defeated the Royal Court's elites. Those small tribes that are still watching will feel that the Royal Court is no longer capable, and they will feel that following Qifugu has more of a future than following the Great Khan."

Wen Geti's fingers clenched into a fist and then released, repeating this three or four times. The creaking of his finger bones was clearly audible in the quiet tent.

The tent curtain was lifted a crack from the outside, and the voice of a young personal guard came through the gap.

"Great Khan, the Right Wise King and the leaders of various tribes request an audience, saying they have heard the news from the front and wish to discuss matters."

Wen Geti closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, something gloomier than anger had layered over those blood-red pupils.

"Let them in."

The tent curtain was lifted from both sides. The Right Wise King walked in at the front, followed by seven or eight leaders of large and small tribes and several mid-level generals of the Royal Court. As they filed in, everyone's complexion was not very good, but the direction of their discomfort varied; some were terrified, some were worried, and some had schadenfreude hidden in their brows.

The Right Wise King stood still in front of the desk, his gaze sweeping over the shattered porcelain bowl on the ground and the bloodstains on the desk, his mouth pulling downward.

"Is the Great Khan's health unwell?"

Wen Geti walked out from the shadows of the tent and sat back behind the desk, the bloodstains on his cuffs covered by the sleeve of his other hand.

"Speak."

The Right Wise King took half a step forward, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his voice spreading out unhurriedly.

"Great Khan, I have heard that Tuoba Lie's vanguard army has suffered a setback in the east. I do not know if the news is true?"

Wen Geti's fingernails scraped a line across the desktop.

"It is true."

A faint, fragmented sound of gasping passed among the seven or eight leaders in the tent. Some leaned half a step toward the person next to them, and some retracted their hands into their sleeves, clutching their own cuffs.

There was no extra change in the Right Wise King's expression, his tone as flat as if he were chatting about what to eat today.

"I also heard that Tuoba Lie himself was killed in action."

Wen Geti's palm slapped flat onto the desk, the force not great but the sound crisp.

"The Right Wise King's news is certainly well-informed."

The Right Wise King's shoulders lifted a fraction and then fell back, that movement done extremely naturally, as if he had been blown by the wind.

"The Great Khan knows that my ears are longer; this is no secret. The herdsmen on the perimeter are already spreading it. The commotion of three wounded horses carrying blood-covered men running in is not something that can be hidden."

Wen Geti did not pick up his words, his gaze shifting from the Right Wise King's face to the faces of the leaders behind him, sweeping over them one by one.

"What are you here to say? Say it together; don't hide it and make this Khan guess one by one."

A middle-aged leader standing on the left behind the Right Wise King stepped forward. This person was named Hechi'er, the head of the Hechi'er Tribe stationed north of the Royal Court, with nearly ten thousand people in three thousand tents, counting as a significant one among the vassal tribes.

"Great Khan, forgive us. We have come to ask one question."

Wen Geti lifted his chin.

Hechi'er swallowed his saliva, his voice carrying a thin layer of tremor.

"Qifugu defeated the Royal Court's elites in the east. Now his momentum is more than three times greater than it was half a year ago. All the tribes are discussing in private, saying that the Royal Court can no longer control the east. We want to know how the Great Khan intends to deal with Qifugu."

Wen Geti's fingers drew a circle next to the bloodstains on the desk, drawing it twice before stopping.

"How to deal with him? How do you think this Khan should deal with him?"

Hechi'er looked back at the leaders behind him who were equally uneasy, his lips moving twice.

Batu stood behind Wen Geti to the side and spoke at this moment.

"Great Khan, I request to mobilize five thousand elites from my own unit, departing today, to flatten the Qifu Tribe's camp within half a month and bring back the head of that rebel to hang on the Royal Court's flagpole."

Batu's voice fell steadily in the tent. He turned to face the leaders, his gaze pausing on each face for a breath.

"Everyone, rest assured. The Royal Court's strength is not something a Qifugu can shake. Tuoba Lie's defeat was caused by underestimating the enemy and advancing recklessly, not because the Royal Court's elites are inferior to the opponent."

The Right Wise King tilted his head at this time, interjecting in an extremely flat tone.

"General Batu is right; Tuoba Lie did indeed underestimate the enemy, but I have a concern."

Wen Geti stared at him.

The Right Wise King's fingers reached out from his sleeves and pointed vaguely toward the west outside the tent.

"General Batu is taking five thousand elites on an eastern expedition. How much mobile force will be left in the Royal Court headquarters? The remnants of the Turks in the west obtained a large batch of grain supplies last month and have been restless for more than a day or two. The direction of the Great Zhou trade fair in the south also needs people to keep an eye on it. If General Batu's men are all transferred away, who will fill the gap left in the Royal Court's hinterland?"

The air in the tent became viscous after the Right Wise King's words fell.

Batu turned to stare at the Right Wise King, their gazes colliding in mid-air inside the tent.

"Does the Right Wise King mean we should not fight?"

The Right Wise King retracted his hands into his sleeves, his shoulders slumping loosely, his tone carrying a sense of nonchalance.

"I am not saying we shouldn't fight; I am saying we should think clearly before we fight. Tuoba Lie's lesson is still fresh; let's not lose another five thousand men."

Wen Geti's fists clenched and released, released and clenched beneath the desk. He stared at the Right Wise King's face for five breaths, trying to see something beneath that face which was three parts lazy and seven parts submissive, but the Right Wise King's face was like a mud-plastered wall, revealing nothing.

"What does the Right Wise King think should be done?"

The Right Wise King smiled, that smile floating very shallowly in the dim light of the tent.

"My ability is not as good as General Batu's. I cannot speak on matters of arranging troops and formations; I am just calculating an account for the Great Khan."

He stretched out one hand, his five fingers counting one by one in front of him.

"The Royal Court's total force is forty thousand. The nine thousand six hundred blockading the border cannot be withdrawn. The three thousand watching the Turks cannot be withdrawn. The two thousand at the various post road checkpoints cannot be withdrawn. The five thousand for headquarters guards and daily patrols cannot be withdrawn. The mobile force the Great Khan can move is just over twenty thousand."

He clenched his five fingers into a fist and shook it in front of him.

"General Batu wants five thousand. After taking them, fifteen thousand remain. Fifteen thousand scattered across dozens of stations—it will take at least half a month to assemble them. In this half month, if the Turks in the west move, or the Great Zhou in the south moves, what will the Great Khan use to block them?"

A blood vessel was jumping on Wen Geti's temple, jumping so hard that the muscles at the corner of his eyes were twitching.

Batu's voice dropped two degrees.

"The Right Wise King's calculations are meticulous, but the Right Wise King has not calculated another account."

The Right Wise King tilted his head to look at him.

Batu swept a circle toward the leaders in the tent.

"If we don't fight Qifugu, within three months all the small tribes in the east that are still watching will lean toward him. Within half a year, Qifugu's force will grow from ten thousand to twenty thousand. After a year, the troops in his hands will be enough to strike directly in front of the Royal Court's main tent."

His gaze returned to Wen Geti's face.

"Fighting might lead to complications, but not fighting is waiting for death. Which one does the Great Khan choose?"

The tent fell silent again, that silence wrapped in the heartbeat of everyone harboring their own ulterior motives.

When Wen Geti stood up from behind the desk, his throat still carried the taste of blood he hadn't swallowed clean.

"All of you, get out of this Khan's sight."

Hechi'er and those leaders turned and walked out as if granted amnesty, walking three times faster than when they came.

The Right Wise King's footsteps were unhurried as he turned. When he reached the tent curtain, he looked back at Wen Geti.

"Great Khan, rest well. I take my leave."

When the tent curtain fell, Wen Geti's hands braced the desktop, his body weight pressing forward half an inch, the lines of his shoulders beneath the iron armor taut like a bowstring about to snap.

Batu did not leave; he stood where he was, waiting.

Wen Geti's voice squeezed through his teeth, muffled and heavy as if transmitted from beneath the ground.

"Those words the Right Wise King said today—does he really think we shouldn't fight, or is he deliberately dragging things out to watch this Khan's joke?"

Batu's fingers tapped lightly on the scabbard of his sword.

"Both."