Chapter 75: The Destruction of a Nation

Boom!

The rain curtain fell, its sound vast and thunderous.

Outside, a heavy rain poured; a bonfire had been lit.

On the bonfire sat an iron pot, boiling mutton; the milk-white lamb broth. A young man in black robes sliced rib meat with a small knife, dipped it in sauce, and ate it while sitting cross-legged on the grassland, his expression calm—but the man with ornaments on his forehead looked far from pleased.

The Turkic Seventh Prince toyed with a curved blade—a trophy from the Tuyuhun—forged in gold, its hilt inlaid with seven gemstones the size of pigeon eggs, as luxurious as a work of art, yet its edge swift, as if it could slice through the northern winds.

The Seventh Prince said: "Your strategy was brilliant; we now hold the vast lands of the Western Regions."

"But my elder brother suffered a great loss."

The Seventh Prince barely restrained the urge to curse his brother a fool pig.

When they discovered Yuwen Lie's ambush, the Turkic Fifth Prince, unable to resist the chance to win glory, attacked the frontier city Yuwen Lie had guarded—its civilians had already fled, and they crushed the original garrison and entered the city.

But they never expected that Yuwen Lie, this fierce general, was also skilled in long-range raid tactics.

While they were drunk, Yuwen Lie returned, burned down the original Yingguo frontier city, and roasted the Turkic iron cavalry alive—tens of thousands of armored elite troops were stewed into rotting flesh, reducing the Fifth Prince's strength by nearly half.

Yuwen Lie nearly wiped out all the Fifth Prince's accumulated gains.

The Fifth Prince barely escaped with his life; upon learning of the Seventh Prince's gains, he flew into a rage, blaming him for attacking the Western Regions and thus exposing the weakness of his own defenses, demanding a share of the conquered lands, and even the Fifth Prince's father—the steppe lord beneath the golden yurt—ordered the Seventh Prince to help resettle the Fifth Prince's tribe.

The Seventh Prince's face darkened.

The land he had won was being taken by his father to compensate his foolish elder brother.

Yet he could not defy the Great Khan.

In this moment of fury, he was powerless. The General smiled faintly: "I have a plan that can help you."

The Seventh Prince sat upright: "I await your counsel, Mr."

The General gazed outside: "It's raining hard."

The Seventh Prince, puzzled, merely nodded: "Yes, spring is ending; the grasslands will slowly enter the rainy season. Snowmelt from the mountains will mix into the rivers, spreading westward across the entire steppe, making it the most beautiful time of the year."

The General said: "Mm. The Western Regions are highland terrain, and Turkic tribes follow water sources—they never dig wells."

The Seventh Prince's eyes widened as he stared at the young man: "What if we poison the upstream waters? By the time the Fifth Prince arrives, he'll be no threat. The herders on the steppe are superstitious—we can spread rumors that the gods have unleashed their wrath upon the Fifth Prince for seizing your domain."

"Death, combined with rumors, will shatter their morale—they'll surely retreat."

"The dead horses, cattle, sheep, and people will make this grassland flourish."

The Seventh Prince flew into a rage, drew his blade, and slammed it onto the table:

"Are you asking me to poison my own people?!"

"Do you know how many will die?!!!"

The General ignored the blade's edge and said simply:

"Better that the Fifth Prince's tribe dies than yours, is it not?"

The Seventh Prince said: "Yet I would rather settle this with sword and spear."

The Han Chinese strategist laughed aloud, rose, placed his hand on the curved blade, and spoke with sharp intensity: "What difference is there between killing with a sword and killing with poison? You're going to kill either way—why cling to a good name?"

"Are you so bound by reputation? But Seventh Prince, have you considered this?"

The General stared at the Seventh Prince, fire burning in his eyes:

"Even if you surrender this land to him—"

"He will never thank you!"

"He'll see you as a child who fears his father, a fool. He'll ride out to plunder your lands, drag your beauties into his tent, whip your warriors—because of your mercy right now."

These words struck the Seventh Prince's deepest thoughts; the strength in his blade waned.

Looking at the General, he seemed defeated, sinking back into his seat, lifting a wine cake to his lips and drinking deeply; his face flushed with drunkenness, he sighed: "You're truly ruthless, Mr. My reputation will be ruined by your scheme."

The General said: "If you insist on assigning this evil name to me, and convince yourself you're innocent to make this choice, I don't mind."

The Seventh Prince stared at the strategist who had voiced his inner thoughts, and said nothing.

The Seventh Prince toyed with the curved blade; the atmosphere grew quiet, thick with menace. The General ate meat heartily. Suddenly, the Seventh Prince said: "I recall you said you wished to return to the Central Plains. Is the steppe not good enough? Have I not been generous to you?"

The General said: "You've treated me well. I love the steppe's scenery and its beauties."

The Seventh Prince asked: "Then why do you wish to leave?"

"Have I not been sincere enough?"

The Seventh Prince stepped forward; his steppe lord's cloak stirred slightly. He knelt halfway, palm striking his chest:

"My great undertaking is not yet complete. Please remain. Beneath my yurt, your legacy will forever be secured. When my battle standard shines across the steppe, you will stand beside me—and then the people of the steppe will cheer your honorific title: Great Khan."

"Stay with me."

He gazed at the handsome young man before him, his eyes earnest—but his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Such talent and strategy—if he could not be kept, he must be killed and buried here.

Every great ruler yearns to retain peerless talent.

Or a person.

Or a life.

The old guide's fears came true: the Turkic Seventh Prince, above the Third Layer Realm, erupted in an instant—enough to sever the General's throat. Yet the General remained calm: "Precisely because of your great plan, I must go to the Central Plains."

"Have you not realized?"

The Seventh Prince froze. The General helped him rise, pointed to the map: "The Turkic and Ying states have just fought a great battle. You gained the Western Regions, but the Fifth Prince's army was nearly annihilated. Do you think you can stand against General Yuwen Lie now?"

The Seventh Prince fell silent. Tie Futu was powerful, but the Ying state's Tiger-Marauder heavy cavalry was only slightly weaker.

And there was Yuwen Lie, peerless as a general and commander.

The Seventh Prince shook his head: "I am no match for him."

The General said: "So if Yuwen Lie seizes this opportunity, charges onto the steppe with his army—how will you resist? He's already stacked the heads and armor of the Fifth Prince's generals into a burial pit beyond the frontier. The entire steppe trembles in fear."

"Do you think the commanders of the Eighteen Tribes will willingly fight this legendary general?"

The Seventh Prince shook his head again.

Bu Jun smiled and said, "So the steppe is no longer united—that is your opportunity."

"The steppe is now split into two factions: those who fight to the death, and those who seek peace; your father has only the choice to fight, but you are different—you are young, you have glorious battle merits. At this moment, if you go to Ying State, ally with Ying State, and marry their Princess as your wife, what do you think?"

The Seventh King looked at Bu Jun and said:

"Then I will become Ying State's knife to balance the steppe."

Bu Jun met his gaze and smiled: "Yes."

"But the other tribes, those chieftains unwilling to fight Ying State to the death, will come to you—they have tens of thousands of cattle and sheep, hundreds of thousands of serfs; they already live the best lives and have no reason to fight against the fierce generals of the Central Plains. At that time, those tribes will come here."

"They will gather beneath your tent; when you ride out, kings will accompany you."

"At that time, your name and your orders will hold supreme authority, just like your father's!"

The Seventh King silently regarded the handsome man from the Central Plains.

The king of the steppe laughed.

He gripped his saber's hilt, straightened his spine, as majestic as an eagle, and said: "Mr., are you planning to split the steppe? To divide the eighteen Turkic tribes of the steppe into Eastern and Western Turkic factions, fracturing the authority of the steppe's sovereign into two tents?"

He was a hero, one who could see this purpose at a glance.

Bu Jun looked at him and said: "Yes, but you still don't see enough."

"Let me show you the whole world, Seventh King."

Bu Jun pulled back the tent flap, extended his finger toward the sky, rain pouring down; the strategist and the king locked eyes, and Bu Jun said:

"The Western Regions are already gone; that land will become the most chaotic place in the world. Ying State's first target will not be the steppe—they will give you vast sums of gold and support to ensure the steppe's stability, then turn their hands to reclaim Jiangnan and the Southwest, completing the Central Plains' generations-old dream of 【All Under Heaven United】."

"After all this, they will turn on the steppe."

"That time is your opportunity: first, secure your own territory; second, use Ying State to stand on equal footing with your father; finally, unify the steppe entirely. At that time, you will be a hero equal to the steppe's rulers of five hundred years ago."

"At that time, wouldn't you also wish to swing your blades southward?"

"Don't you want to accomplish a feat no one in thousands of years has achieved—to become the greatest hero in epic history?"

The Seventh King sat silently, the fire in his chest stirred by words, his heart pounding violently; he instinctively gripped his weapon. Bu Jun's narrow eyes smiled as he murmured to himself:

"Will the Central Plains first subdue Jiangnan, or will your tent surpass your father's?"

"The vast steppe of the north stands opposed to the broad Central Plains; the side that unifies its own region first will gain the advantage."

"This is the strategy of dividing the world."

"Who, then, is the greatest hero of this age—the eagle of the steppe or the sovereign of the Central Plains?"

Bu Jun's black hair was drenched in rain; he struck his chest with his palm, his robe flaring and falling, performing a steppe salute. In his eyes glowed a light that bewitched all things and a flame that burned everything; he smiled faintly: "Then, do you have such ambition to step toward the whole world?"

Bu Jun spoke truth—open strategy, and the temptation no ambitious ruler could resist. What moves a man most is not beauty, not gold, but the grandeur of the world.

The Seventh King's breathing quickened; he said: "... And the only one capable of achieving this, the only envoy who can make Ying State agree to ally with me, is you."

Bu Jun said: "So I must go to the Central Plains."

For a long, long time, the Seventh King gripped his weapon, clenched and released it, then sighed:

"I really should kill you, Mr. Bu Jun."

"But I cannot. You have painted for me the great tide of dividing the world—even though I know this is your scheme, that you wish to split the Turks into Eastern and Western tents, that you seek this chance to return to the Central Plains—I still cannot bring myself to kill you."

Bu Jun said: "This is ambition—surpassing life and death."

The Seventh King finally drew his golden curved blade and sliced through Bu Jun's temple hair. He sheathed the blade and said: "Consider yourself already dead, Mr."

"I hope we do not meet so soon on the battlefield."

"Forty days from now, there will be a grand sacrifice in Chen State. You will travel with the envoys to Chen State's Central Plains."

Bu Jun held the severed lock of hair and smiled: "Very well. Then won't you give me a reward?"

The Seventh King burst into laughter: "What do you want?"

"Gold? Cattle and sheep? Or beauties?!"

Bu Jun shook his head. Finally, he bowed slightly with clasped hands and said: "Give me a suit of armor."

The Seventh King said: "The armory is full of armor. Choose whatever you like, Mr."

Bu Jun looked at the Seventh King and smiled faintly:

"I want a general-grade Tie Futu armor."

The Seventh King's smile froze.

He stared fixedly at the strategist who had ignited the chaos-fire in his heart, and suddenly recalled that One Heavy Weapon—the Tie Futu full plate, the heaviest armor in the world—paired with a battle halberd. What manner of monster would that be?

Having already agreed to his previous demand, the Seventh King yielded quickly this time.

He said:

"... Fine."

………………

In Jiangnan, upon seeing that seal, Master Siming completely abandoned his dignity.

After a moment of stillness,

he activated his Qi-Reading Technique; the residual royal aura surged violently into his vision.

Boom!

Master Siming's eyes went black and he toppled over—but instantly sat upright again. Li Guanyi was too slow to react; the old man appeared beside him, seized Li Guanyi's hand, stared fixedly at the seal, and cried out: "Jin Yin, tiger knob—I see, the back bears Tuyuhun script..."

"'Crossing the Western Regions!'"

"This is the Wang Yin of the Tuyuhun—the hegemon who swept through the thirty-six Western Regions; he forged this seal by melting down the Wang Yin of all thirty-six tribes, and when casting it, he beheaded the other thirty-five chieftains to consecrate the furnace with their blood."

"That day, the fire burned crimson."

"You, you...!!"

"This is what you called 'a little bit'?!"

The old man stared at him. Li Guanyi grinned and said: "I don't know how to explain it to you."

"It wasn't me who did it."

Li Guanyi tried to explain that this was not his achievement.

Then the old man did not believe this fellow—he widened his eyes, staring at the letter in Li Guanyi's hand.

【Thanks to Brother Lai's plan, my valor】

【Killing the King and seizing the throne, this seal is my gift】

The old man pointed at the letter with his finger, his face full of "You think I'll believe you?"

"Killing the King and seizing the throne, is it?"

"Has nothing to do with you, and you're giving me the seal, is it?"

Li Guanyi also looked at the rest of the letter, which said that a youth from ten thousand li away led elite cavalry to Wang Cheng, saw the city lit by torches, the royal palace drinking through the night; the second prince felt a direct assault was unwise, so he resorted to deception again.

He feigned a massive army approaching, stirring up noise; because of the great upheaval in the world, the stars were obscured, and the fate of Tuyuhun was indeed declining, so the drunken Tuyuhun King was terrified, mounted his horse, and fled from Wang Cheng.

At this moment, he even brought along a seductive beauty.

The youth rode a steed infused with Fire Qilin blood and shot the Tuyuhun King from his horse with his warbow.

Then, 【He seized all craftsmen, scholars, armor, grain, and geomantic maps】

【What he could not carry, he burned】

【This item is of little use to me—I send it to you for amusement】

The old man stared at the letter's words and pieced together the full story.

This youth before him had devised the plan, while the other youth had ridden forth on horseback.

How does one truly extinguish a nation's destiny?

If viewed by worldly standards, it meant destroying the city; but by lineage, it meant killing the Wang Hou, seizing the seal, and ensuring the nation could never rise again.

Thus, Master Siming suddenly realized something nearly absurd.

On the surface, the one who destroyed Tuyuhun was the world's greatest general, Yuwen Lie.

In truth, it was these two youths, together not exceeding thirty years of age.

Li Guanyi stared at the object, holding the Wang Seal, raised his head, and seemed to more directly feel the flowing light of the Bai Hu Seven Mansions; he looked at the old man beside him, many questions on his lips, but in the end he simply extended his hand, palm open, the small seal resting in his palm.

"This thing."

"Enough?"

Master Siming: "…………"

?? The AI-generated images still look too naive—keep pushing. I actually want to make a power map, but it's still not clear enough; I hope to represent the power map more intuitively.