Chapter 459: Son of the Wolf

"Losing our Helan Mountains, our herds and flocks will never thrive again…"

To the sound of this mournful song, a vast column was making its way through the desert a thousand li northwest of the Helan Mountains.

They were Xiongnu — the battered remnants who, just over a month ago, had suffered a crushing defeat in the Hetao region.

After Li Xin attacked them at the river crossing, Chanyu Touman led his remaining thirty thousand survivors in a westward flight. The Qin army had already cut off the route north to the Yin Mountains; if they wanted to survive, they had to take another path — crossing the shifting sands to winter at Juyan Marsh, then next spring, once the snows melted, crossing the great Gobi to the north and reaching the lands beyond the desert.

It was the ninth month, but the desert days were still scorching; the Xiongnu could only hide in their tents to escape the fierce sun. At night, the cold made them shiver uncontrollably — no amount of furs could stop the howling wind. Only the brief windows of dawn and dusk were fit for riding, so they moved very slowly.

The Xiongnu knew this route and could find water sources, but half a month after leaving Hetao, starvation swept through them. The weakest horses fell first, then the wounded warriors.

"They are the lucky ones — at least they can die alongside their horses."

Unlike the Qiang, who practiced cremation, the Xiongnu buried their dead in the earth, just as the people of the Central Plains did. As they laid the fallen to rest among the dunes, the Xiongnu mourned them with these words.

They believed that a Xiongnu and his mount shared a mystical bond; when a man died, his horse would carry him into the land of the dead, a realm of eternal green grass and blooming flowers.

As the migration pushed deeper, more and more died. Ju Wu, the man of Yan who served at the Chanyu's side, collapsed from exhaustion and fell from his horse, unable to rise again. Half a shichen later, he breathed his last. Flies and mosquitoes swarmed the corpse. The Xiongnu believed he had contracted a disease and feared he would pass the ill fortune to others, so they burned the body.

The pyre died out before the corpse was fully consumed. Vultures descended, pecking greedily at the remains. Then came the jackals, tearing at his bones and scattering them everywhere.

To the very end, Ju Wu never returned to the land of Yan, never became its Shen Baoxu. Instead, in the desert, he filled the bellies of birds and beasts, and in the end became nothing but dried, hardened dung.

By this time, the Xiongnu had run out of grain. These people, who loved their horses like their own lives, were forced to start slaughtering them for food. When they heard that Chanyu Touman's own men were eating other people's horses while refusing to kill their own, they could not help but grumble in secret.

As night fell, mournful ballads accompanied by the reed pipe once again echoed through the Xiongnu camp.

"Losing our lands south of the river, our tribes have no place to dwell in peace."

"Losing our northern river plains, our Dalin sacred grove lies in ruins…"

The Xiongnu had lost their finest pastures and could only scrape out a wretched existence in the desolate northern wastes.

Some were convinced that all of this was the fault of Chanyu Touman's senility and folly, that his stubbornness alone had brought such catastrophic losses upon the Xiongnu.

Discontent was being suppressed and fermented, held in check only by the three thousand loyal riders of the Chanyu's personal guard — in battle, the Chanyu always kept his elite troops close, leaving the other tribes to bear the brunt of the fighting.

Fortunately, battered and stumbling, they finally reached Juyan Marsh…

Vast groves of euphrates poplars, thick with yellow leaves, spread out before them. The land grew moist. The Ruo River cut across the desert, and together with streams from distant snowy mountains, it converged into a boundless, misty lake — ten times the size of the Yuezhi's Zhuye Marsh in Hexi!

The lake's waters were a vivid, crystalline green, teeming with fish, the largest weighing a full jin. Birds abounded too — grey swallows, swans, wild ducks — spirits migrating here to winter, gathering in their thousands, calling in flight and sporting on the water, a true spectacle. Along the shores grew dense reeds, thick as brush handles, the tallest reaching a full zhang, enough to conceal a man on horseback…

Here, the famished and parched Xiongnu knelt and worshipped the heavens' gift; at last, they had found hope of survival.

This was Juyan Marsh, a generous gift from the Qilian Mountain glaciers to the creatures of the Gobi. "Qilian," in the Xiongnu tongue, meant "Heaven," so they also called Juyan Marsh the Heavenly Lake and revered it as a sacred site, offering sacrifices there. Chanyu Touman had left a Myriarch stationed here to hold it.

Soon, this Myriarch, a man named "Lan Yanzhi," sent men to the lakeshore to receive Touman. Of the original thirty thousand, only a little over twenty thousand remained, all utterly exhausted, more than half having lost their horses.

Lan Yanzhi was the chieftain of the Lan clan, one of the three great noble lineages of the Xiongnu. Seeing this state of affairs, his expression flickered, but he immediately led Chanyu Touman to the camp to rest and ordered cheese and meat to be brought at once.

"Has there been any movement from the Yuezhi?"

Touman stuffed a piece of meat into his mouth and asked the most critical question.

A thousand li due south of Juyan Lake lay the Yuezhi city of Zhaowu. In the past, the Yuezhi had often come downstream along the Ruo River to contest Juyan Marsh with the Xiongnu. Now that the Xiongnu had been dealt a devastating blow by the Qin, what Touman feared most was that the Yuezhi had seized Juyan Marsh. If that were the case, the Xiongnu would have lost their last foothold south of the desert.

What was more, his own son, Modu, was among the Yuezhi. This great defeat had shattered Touman's prestige. Had the Lan clan not been loyal to him, and had they not needed to winter at Juyan Marsh, the tribes would have long since risen in total rebellion.

That was why, even as he moved the entire Xiongnu host to the lands beyond the northern desert, he had left ten thousand riders at Juyan Marsh as a rear guard, to prepare for any contingency.

"A few small scouting parties came to probe us. I drove them off."

Lan Yanzhi smiled as he spoke, his gaze drifting outside the tent. Because the tribes might rebel at any moment, Touman was extremely vigilant. His trusted men stood guard inside and outside the entrance, armed with blades and short spears, searching everyone who approached.

A servant wearing a thick felt hat entered slowly, carrying a whole roast lamb on a platter with both hands. The Chanyu's guards stopped him, snatched off his hat, and searched him before letting him pass.

Hearing that the Yuezhi had made no major moves, Touman breathed a sigh of relief. He discussed with Lan Yanzhi where each tribe should settle for the winter, then yawned. After a month of jolting through the desert, he was utterly worn out. With a full belly and wine's warmth, exhaustion overwhelmed him.

Lan Yanzhi withdrew. The guards stationed inside the tent also moved outside and fell upon their food ravenously.

Soon, the sound of Chanyu Touman's snoring came from within the tent…

His slumber was sweet and deep — until a blade of icy steel pressed against his throat. Chanyu Touman's eyes flew open, but a hand clamped over his mouth.

The figure before him had appeared from nowhere. His face was hawk-like, with long, narrow features that closely resembled Touman's own. The only difference from the past was that the once-smooth chin was now covered by a thick, mirror-like beard…

Touman drew a sharp, cold breath.

"Modu! It's you!"

…

Touman's heart nearly stopped. Seeing his eldest son appear so suddenly brought him no joy whatsoever. Instinctively, he reached for the blade beside him, only to find it already in Modu's grip, pressed a fraction tighter against his throat.

Modu said nothing, merely casting Touman a deeply meaningful smile.

"How did you get in here?"

Modu still did not speak, only looked to the side. Touman followed his son's gaze. At the edge of the great tent, beside the wooden rack that held bows, arrows, and weapons, a tiger skin had been lifted aside. A wooden hatch in the ground lay open, revealing a pit beneath — a hiding place large enough to conceal a man.

Everything became clear. The slightly strange atmosphere among the Xiongnu at Juyan Marsh, Lan Yanzhi's evasive eyes — the Lan clan, whom he had thought most loyal, were the first to betray him!

Ten years ago, even with a blade at his throat, Chanyu Touman could have fought back to the death. But he was old now. He put on a strong front before the tribes, but in truth his health was failing. The upheavals of the past months had weakened him further; his hair was greyer, his eyes filled with exhaustion.

Against his powerful son, any struggle was futile.

Modu saw all of this. In that moment, a trace of sorrow seemed to flicker in his eyes.

Now that it had come to this, Touman instead grew calm.

He gave a dry, brittle laugh. "After this great defeat, I understand now. The Xiongnu need a mature and valiant heir. Once we return to the northern lands next year, I will make you Crown Prince…"

The last trace of hesitation in Modu's eyes vanished. He shook his head.

"'Losing our Helan Mountains, our herds and flocks will never thrive again' — Father, did you not hear the song the tribes are singing?"

Modu spoke. His voice was no longer the deep, bold tone of before; it was low and carried a hint of hoarseness, making it impossible to know what he had endured over this past year and more.

"What do you truly want, Modu? My son?"

Touman was almost pleading now.

"What do I want? To seize back everything that was rightfully mine!"

Modu grabbed the arm Touman was trying to use to resist, a murderous light blazing in his eyes, like a vicious wolf about to tear out the throat of the old wolf king.

"Father, you are no longer fit to be the Great Chanyu. You will only lead the Xiongnu to ruin."

"You no longer need to fret over whether your tribesmen will betray you, nor bear the crushing weight of the Eagle Crown. I, Modu of the Luandi clan, will take care of everything in your stead!"

The next moment, the sharp blade slit the throat without the slightest hesitation.

Modu released his grip, and Chanyu Touman tumbled down. He desperately tried to stanch the blood spurting out, but it was futile.

The struggle and noise inside the tent were loud enough, yet the Chanyu's personal guards outside did not come in to look, because outside the tent, the same sounds of shouting and killing had erupted — a spray of blood splattered across the tent curtain!

Modu coldly watched the man who had given him life, then abandoned and betrayed him, die, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

But immediately after, as if a weight had been lifted, he picked up the horn cup Touman had not finished and drained the fermented mare's milk in one gulp.

Over this past year and more, he had endured torments unimaginable to ordinary men — exiled by his own father, fleeing to seek refuge under the banner of his mortal enemy, offering up his prized steed and his most beloved consort, borrowing a thousand Yuezhi men, stationing himself at the Wild Boar Marsh, constantly spying on the Xiongnu's situation.

When Qin launched its massive assault on the Xiongnu, Modu knew his chance had come, but Qin swiftly achieved a one-sided victory, which made him understand that he could not simply appear out of nowhere and become the savior of the Xiongnu.

The Xiongnu were enduring an unprecedented winter, and he could only try every means possible to lead them away from annihilation.

But first, he had to seize the position of Grand Chanyu.

Fortunately, among the Xiongnu, the strong survive and the weak are despised. A Chanyu who had lost a battle and abandoned his pastures would not be loved.

Just as the King of Yuezhi decided to seek peace with Qin, the astute Modu knew he had to leave. He brought a thousand Yuezhi cavalry and his tribesmen to the Juyan Marsh, and at the risk of being killed, walked alone before Lan Yanzhi...

He persuaded the fearful and uneasy Lan clan and orchestrated this patricidal murder.

The pit in the ground could have hidden several men, but Modu entered it personally, bringing no subordinates. He believed that only he was qualified to strike against the Chanyu.

Thinking of this, Modu bent down and picked up the bloodstained Eagle Crown of the Chanyu, which had rolled and rolled across the ground!

He placed the Eagle Crown upon his head, cast not another glance at Touman's corpse, and strode out of the great tent. Outside, the slaughter was still underway...

The encampment had become a battlefield — no, a slaughterhouse! The Chanyu's personal guards outside the tent had already been killed by Modu's men. In the tribal camps loyal to Touman, flames soared halfway to the sky, blades and sword shadows flickered everywhere, and Lan Yanzhi, whom Modu had persuaded to join his side, was leading men to surround them.

"Now that's more like it."

Modu muttered to himself, "For the Hu people, who always pride themselves on being a pack of wolves, the position of Chanyu naturally depends on whose fangs and claws are sharpest!"

A wolf cub kills the old wolf, drains its blood, and devours its flesh — only then can it become ruthless and strong. This is the Xiongnu's way of survival!

After the slaughter ended, Modu ordered the great horn to be sounded.

It was a horn made from the largest wild ox horn on the steppe, sounded only on momentous occasions — the Talin Assembly, the Dragon City Heaven Worship, the birth of a firstborn son, war gatherings, a Chanyu's funeral, the succession of a new Chanyu...

Over twenty years ago, in Touman City, Modu had been born to the sound of this very horn. Touman had once joyfully held him, bathed him in horse blood, and named him "Modu," with a shaman prophesying that he would be a fine steed galloping across the entire steppe.

And today, to the sound of this same horn, he had murdered his father and donned the bloodstained Eagle Crown.

All the Xiongnu people gathered around. They already understood what had happened, yet there was no anger, no condemnation — they merely watched Modu calmly. Aside from those diehard confidants utterly loyal to Touman, everyone seemed to take this scene as a matter of course...

This is the steppe, where the strong prey upon the weak happens every single day. A frail old wolf cannot lead the pack, much less when the new wolf king already possesses sharp fangs and claws.

In the end, they knelt submissively before Modu...

By the shores of the Juyan Marsh, a mighty roar rose up, startling the flocks of overwintering birds into flight.

"Modu Chanyu!"

"Chenglu Gurtu, Modu Grand Chanyu!"

Half a month later, when the envoy of the King of Yuezhi arrived at the Juyan Marsh, intending to recall Modu, chop off his head, and send it to the Qin court, he was stunned to discover that this exiled prince, who had been like a dog among the Yuezhi, had already donned the Chanyu's Eagle Crown and was receiving him while seated upon a nomadic bed.

Modu still remembered his earlier pledge to "serve the King of Yuezhi as his lord," and his words were exceedingly deferential:

"Please reply to the King of Yuezhi: Touman is dead. Modu is now the new Chanyu and is willing to be a vassal of Yuezhi. When the snow melts next year, Modu will lead thirty thousand riders northward, to the northern desert, to command the Xiongnu tribes there. The Juyan Marsh will also be abandoned. I ask Yuezhi to administer it on behalf of the Xiongnu, so that our two states may maintain contact and exchange here."

"The Qin people are greedy. They wish to slaughter all Hu herdsmen, turn every grassland into farmland, build cities, and settle forever. The Xiongnu have already been defeated. The Qin army's next prey will be either Yuezhi or the Eastern Hu. Modu is willing to contact the King of Yuezhi and the King of the Eastern Hu. Faced with the ferocious great enemy that is the Qin Emperor, all bow-drawing peoples of the steppe must unite! If one Hu cannot withstand Qin, then let the three Hu become one!"

PS: A 4000-character long chapter. A previous error: when Modu fled to seek refuge with the Yuezhi, he arrived at the Wild Boar Marsh, not the Juyan Marsh.

(End of Chapter)