In the southern court of the Northern Desert, there was a royal court. Though the Northern Empire had a capital city, the female Emperor resided in the royal tent for two seasons of the year. Wherever the royal tent stood, there stood the heart of the Empire. This was a mobile city formed by countless tents of various sizes. The tent where the most revered old woman in the world resided was uniquely golden. It resembled a giant golden spider crouching on the grasslands, rivaling the sun in brilliance. When this golden royal tent appeared in Gusei Prefecture, the southern court instantly paled in comparison. All the noble officials gathered around the royal tent, quietly awaiting the audience with Her Majesty the Empress. Those of higher rank stood closer to the royal tent, such as the newly appointed Grand Duke Dong Zhuo of the Southern Court, Hong Jingyan, the supreme commander of the Rouran cavalry, the governors of Gusei and Longyao Prefectures, and the southern generals Liu Gui and Yang Yuanzan—these powerful figures who commanded respect and influence in the southern court were all granted the privilege of being relatively close to the golden tent.
Today, the Northern Desert Empress summoned officials from both north and south for the routine “ash-drawing deliberation.” Everyone sat on embroidered stools arranged in a circle, with no distinction in rank. However, the old woman with white hair but a sharp and vigorous spirit still sat facing south, as emperors of the Central Plains did. On her left was Tai Pingling of the Chess and Sword Bureau, and on her right was Tuoba Pusa, the Northern Desert’s military god. One was a civil official, the other a military general. But beyond them, the arrangement of officials was mixed—there was no clear division between civil and military officials, unlike the sharply divided atmosphere in the court of Liyang.
With Dong Zhuo’s promotion to Grand Duke of the Southern Court, his position had drawn closer to Empress Murong. However, he was still separated by influential figures like Murong Baoding, the governor of Juzhou Prefecture. Today, upon entering the tent, Dong Zhuo seemed distracted. He kept looking around, counting on his thick fingers how many seats still separated him from the Empress. After all, in the southern court, he was already the highest-ranking official. However, among the two great royal families of the Northern Desert, many elderly men bearing the surnames Yelü or Murong still occupied their posts without contributing much. Though their eyesight had dimmed and their backs could no longer straighten, they stubbornly insisted on attending this ash-drawing deliberation.
Dong Zhuo exchanged glances with a smiling old man. If he wasn’t mistaken, the old fellow was Yelü Hongcai. In his youth, the old man had accomplished a few notable feats, but in recent years, he had been silent. The old man grinned foolishly at Dong Zhuo, who, out of sheer boredom, grinned back. The two of them engaged in a silent contest of smiles. In the end, Dong Zhuo’s face became stiff, while the old man’s smile remained lively and vivid. Defeated, Dong Zhuo rubbed his cheeks and gave the old man a thumbs-up, his expression clearly saying, “You win.” Yelü Hongcai’s smile didn’t fade as he picked his nose, clearly reveling in his victory. Dong Zhuo couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Was this the same man who had survived the political storms of three Northern Desert reigns? When Emperor Shenzong Yelü Wensunu was on his deathbed, the old man had been among the six entrusted with the imperial mandate, holding the lowest rank. During Emperor Shenzong’s passing, among the five present, Yelü Hongcai had ranked third. When the previous Emperor died, he had been among the four present—General Yelü Shulie, Xu Huai’an, a refugee from the Central Plains, Tuoba Pusa, and Murong Baoding—and had risen to second place.
Next? Dong Zhuo instinctively turned his head to glance at Her Majesty the Empress.
In the large circle formed by the gathered officials, a cloth map was spread out, covering the southern regions of the Liyang capital and the Guangling Circuit. While Dong Zhuo and the old man Yelü Hongcai were engaged in their silent contest, the Empress had already discussed the upcoming military situation with several generals. They all acknowledged the short-term strength of the Xichu forces but remained convinced that Xichu could never succeed in restoring its kingdom. The Empress mainly asked the generals how short this “short term” might be—was it a few months, half a year, or could it last until the autumn of next year? Then, based on these various possibilities, she consulted the civil officials on how much the Liyang treasury would be reduced.
During the discussion of the overall situation, a few young men from Xichu caught the Empress’s attention. Among them, Xie Xiechui was mentioned the most, as many as four times, followed closely by Kou Jianghuai, who was mentioned three times. This even piqued the Empress’s interest. However, in the end, she merely remarked, “Born at the right time but in the wrong place—what a pity.”
The Northern Desert generals unanimously believed that Cao Zhangqing’s eastern front, battling against Prince Guangling Zhao Yi, would still emerge victorious. However, the key question was who would be the main commander tasked with restoring order for the Liyang court—was it Lu Shengxiang, who was constantly hindered, or Minister of War Lu Baijie, who had recently been appointed in an emergency? Could it even be the greater threat to the Northern Desert from the north, the Grand Commander Gu Jiantang? According to Tai Pingling, the Liyang court was far too dismissive of Xichu, and without Gu Jiantang presiding over the Ministry of War, the efficiency of the Liyang administration was nowhere near what it had been twenty years ago. However, Tai Pingling was also deeply concerned that the more severely Xichu would wound Liyang, the more concentrated and powerful Gu Jiantang’s military authority would become. In the long run, this would be a mixed blessing at best.
Dong Zhuo did not join this largely uncontested discussion. When Dong Fatso saw Her Majesty raise her hand, not only did the group of civil officials, none of whom were below the third rank, but also a large number of previously arrogant and overbearing generals, nearly everyone straightened up. Dong Zhuo also composed his expression. He watched as four young female attendants carried out another map and spread it over the original one. When the detailed and colorful map was fully revealed to everyone’s view, even Yelü Hongcai, that old tiger who had lost all his teeth, narrowed his eyes and leaned forward slightly, staring intently at the map that was three zhang wide and long. Due to his aging eyesight, the old man slowly stood up and took a few steps forward. In all of the Northern Desert, only he was allowed to bring a retainer into the tent for deliberations. As Yelü Hongcai’s retainer tried to assist him, the old man waved him off.
As Yelü Hongcai solemnly rose to his feet, the majority of the Northern Desert nobles dared not remain seated and followed suit by standing up from their embroidered stools.
It was a grand map of the Northern Desert and Liangzhou!
A few individuals had not yet stood up until Empress Murong herself rose, prompting them to follow.
The old woman’s face no longer bore the calm and leisurely expression she had earlier. She spoke gravely, “I know that even now, there are still those who want to strike the eastern front first, believing that once that eastern front, not yet fully formed under Gu Jiantang, is eliminated, we can march southward and seize the Taian City of the Liyang Dynasty in one decisive move. They think this is the wisest and most definitive course of action.”
As soon as she spoke, the atmosphere within the royal tent grew heavy. Several generals and governors exchanged uneasy glances.
The old woman suddenly chuckled bitterly, “There are even those who think that my insistence on attacking the western front is merely out of spite for Xu Xiao, that dead man.”
Dong Zhuo couldn’t help but laugh, only to receive over a dozen disapproving glances from the officials in the tent. Any ordinary Northern Desert official would have been terrified, but Dong Fatso raised his head and mimicked Yelü Hongcai by picking his nose.
The old woman continued with a smile, “If you think so, then think so. It doesn’t matter. Today, I only wish to tell you one thing: the decision to attack the western front is final and cannot be changed. If anyone objects, that’s fine. I give you one last chance—leave this tent now…”
Soon, several elders of the royal court let out cold snorts in unison and strode out of the royal tent. These elders were once mighty eagles of the grasslands, each bearing the surname Yelü, and still held considerable military power, much like the regional princes of the Liyang court. The Northern Desert court was inherently loosely structured, with each acting independently and only nominally subject to the Emperor’s authority. Among these elders, there were even those who had not participated in the campaigns against the Liyang northern expedition over a decade ago, and even now, the Empress could not hold them accountable. In their view, only by attacking the eastern front could they gain profit. What was the western front? Thirty thousand Northern Liang troops—if they were all killed, what would be gained? Northern Liang was a barren land where not even birds would defecate, worse than the lush grasslands of their own homeland. Further south lay the western Shu region, a place where the roads were treacherous and no emperor had ever emerged to unify the Central Plains. It was a place where Northern Desert cavalry had to dismount and fight. To march through that region would mean heavy casualties and meager gains—who would be willing? If the old woman wanted to listen to the advice of that dog Tai Pingling, they would not follow.
As these defiant “Yelü Princes” strode out one after another, a third of the tent’s occupants left. Fortunately, none of the southern court’s governors or generals departed, and Tuoba Pusa remained steadfast by the Empress’s side.
Yelü Hongcai remained unmoved, his eyes fixed on the map. The old man did not budge, and though several men in their fifties and sixties were restless, they still restrained themselves and remained in the tent.
Empress Murong’s expression remained unchanged, not even glancing at the retreating figures. With two fingers pinching a piece of charcoal, she gazed at the map beneath her feet. She extended her hand and gently pressed downward, smiling, “Let’s all sit back down, as if we’ve already seized the Rivers and mountains. After all, aside from our young Grand Duke Dong Zhuo and a few others, most of us are no longer young.”
Everyone sat along the edges of the map. The farther away from the old woman they were, the more naturally they ended up sitting on the Liyang territory. The one sitting farthest south was even perched on the Nanzhao region.
Once everyone was “seated,” the Empress joked, “I don’t understand military strategy, but I do know that our one million Northern Desert troops cannot all be lined up along the border of Gusei and Longyao Prefectures. As for the specifics, let Tai Pingling explain.”
Tai Pingling nodded, picked up the piece of charcoal, and walked to the map. However, he did not go directly to the border between Liangzhou and the Northern Desert. Instead, he squatted near the eastern front and drew a semi-circular arc facing inward toward the grasslands, calmly stating, “The restoration of Xichu has tied up the forces stationed in the Liyang capital. However, Gu Jiantang’s movements suggest a tendency to move southward or to remain inactive. However, these tendencies do not necessarily mean that Liyang will remain idle. It is possible that Liyang and Northern Liang might reconcile their differences. Unlike the Liyang court, which always seeks maximum profit, we must prepare for the worst-case scenario—that Gu Jiantang will march northward, creating a two-front threat. Therefore, old General Yelü Hongcai, along with Governors Helian Weiwu and Murong Baoding, will lead forces to simulate an invasion. If Gu Jiantang dares to commit all his forces, we will match his boldness, engaging in a strategic retreat until we reach the arc line I have drawn here. At that point, not a single step further shall we retreat!”
Helian Weiwu nodded, while Murong Baoding remained silent.
Yelü Hongcai, thin as a skeleton, looked at the arc line without objection.
Tai Pingling paused, then continued in a calm tone, “Next, we will also fight on two fronts, but not simultaneously. The southern front will be fully entrusted to Grand Duke Dong Zhuo of the Southern Court, with no interference from Her Majesty. However, before that, the northern front, which is our Northern Desert’s backyard, will be entrusted to General Tuoba Pusa to clean up. The target is the various grassland tribes led by those who just walked out of this tent.”
Yelü Hongcai’s eyelids twitched slightly as he slowly raised his head and asked in a hoarse voice, “Your Majesty, wouldn’t it be simple to kill them all on the spot?”
The Northern Desert Empress smiled and shook her head, replying, “Too few.”
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