The Huairou Hunting Grounds, renowned for their picturesque scenery across the Northern Wilderness and the Southern Dynasties, have long been the premier summer retreat for the remnants of the Spring and Autumn era. The elite families of the “Jia” and “Yi” rankings all vie to own a piece of grassland here as a testament to their family’s prestige. For instance, the Southern Dynasty’s Wang family, originally unqualified to claim a spot here, secured a lush and fertile “fiefdom” this spring. Whether through forging marital ties with a prominent “Jia” clan or the great-grandson of a centenarian becoming the Winter Nabo, this once “Ten-Generation Hanlin” family of the Central Plains has undeniably begun to display an upward trajectory of prosperity.
As summer arrived, the hunting grounds saw an increasing number of towering steeds and lavishly dressed nobles. Thus, when a thirty-strong cavalry appeared at the periphery, it barely caused a ripple. The pampered young nobles of the Southern Dynasty merely exchanged glances as they galloped past. The carriage escorted by the riders left two long wheel tracks in the verdant grass. Inside the spacious carriage, three occupants made the space feel cramped—primarily due to the burly man in his prime, sitting like a small mountain with his eyes closed in meditation, a Northern Wilderness frontier army saber resting on his knees.
The other two, a man and a woman, bore a striking resemblance—likely siblings. Compared to the rough-edged young man, the woman exuded an air of noble grace. Though not exceptionally beautiful, her figure was exquisite, her curves as lush as a blooming peony even in simple repose. At the moment, she was berating her brother, who had repeatedly avoided her. The younger man cowered, occasionally casting pleading glances at the burly man. The sister, infuriated by her brother’s spinelessness, trembled with rage, her ample bosom heaving, until she finally slapped him across the face with a sharp crack. Despite being a high-ranking general in the Northern Wilderness army, the brother dared not retaliate, hanging his head in a mix of grievance and anxiety.
Hearing the slap, the burly man finally spoke up, “Enough, wife. Since Yelü Hongcai didn’t die in Hulu Pass, he certainly won’t die in Northern Liang either.”
His words only redirected the woman’s fury. “Dong Zhuo! How dare you defend him?! If not for your insistence on sending him with the Dong family’s private army to rescue Yang Yuanzan in Hulu Pass, would my brother have been in danger? All these years, I’ve run errands for you in the Northern Court, sung your praises to the Chijie Ling and generals—was it just so you could send my brother to his death?! Why didn’t you lead the Dong cavalry yourself to intercept those two Northern Liang heavy cavalry divisions?!”
Dong Zhuo, the Southern Court King of the Northern Wilderness, gripped his saber and frowned in silence.
His silence inexplicably unnerved the woman, deflating her aristocratic arrogance. She turned away, unable to meet her husband’s gaze.
Yelü Hongcai muttered awkwardly, “Sis, Brother-in-law, why argue over me? It’s not worth it. Sis, just hit me again. Last time wasn’t Brother-in-law’s fault—he warned me to retreat if things went south in Hulu Pass. But I charged in recklessly and got thousands of his men killed.”
The woman scoffed, glaring at him with exasperation. “If you’d died in Youzhou’s Hulu Pass, would our father just sire another precious son? Do you think he wouldn’t resent your brother-in-law? Dong Zhuo was already struggling to consolidate power in the Southern Court. After this defeat, not only is the Crown Prince scheming, rallying Southern Court officials led by Huang Songpu, but even those ungrateful remnants are flocking to him. Now even Yelü Dongchuang has returned to the royal court, whispering poison in noble circles, undermining your brother-in-law! If you’d died too, where would that leave him?!”
Dong Zhuo rolled his eyes.
Yelü Hongcai suppressed a grin and teased, “Sis, turns out you’re still on Brother-in-law’s side. Those Spring and Autumn remnants really know how to twist words—no wonder they say a married daughter is like spilled water, her loyalty flowing outward.”
Blushing, the woman raised her hand threateningly. Yelü Hongcai leaned back against the carriage wall and stuck out his tongue.
Dong Zhuo sighed. Lately, he’d felt like he was roasting over a fire. Though the Emperor had magnanimously tolerated his defeat without replacing him, Dong Zhuo knew his appointment as Southern Court King had exhausted over a decade of battlefield merits and imperial favor. A victory in the Liang-Mang War would have strengthened their bond, but fate had other plans. The Northern Wilderness’s crushing defeat outside Northern Liang’s borders had nearly erased all his efforts. Even now, he faced relentless impeachment from Yang Yuanzan’s “old faction.”
Worse still was the Empress Dowager’s visible decline—not just in age, but in spirit. Once confident of conquering the Central Plains, she now seemed resigned to never seeing the Guangling River in Liyang.
To attack Northern Liang or Liaodong? Initially, only three in the Northern Wilderness had advocated for Northern Liang: Dong Zhuo, the Emperor, and Taiping Ling of the Qijian Yuefu. But ultimately, it was the aging Empress Dowager’s decision—and she seemed to waver.
Rumors that the Emperor had secretly summoned the newly emerged Wang Sui had unsettled Dong Zhuo. Fortunately, Wang Sui also insisted on conquering Northern Liang first, then Shu and Zhao, before marching east into the Central Plains—a stance that solidified the Emperor’s resolve for a second campaign.
Yet Dong Zhuo felt an inexplicable unease. Why would Wang Sui, with his grudge against Gu Jiantang, focus on Xu Fengnian instead? It made no sense.
Gritting his teeth, Dong Zhuo’s expression darkened.
His wife, seeing his distress, softened. After all, her loyalty lay with him. Like most women, she’d chosen to stand by her husband—a man she believed destined for greatness.
The carriage halted before an unassuming yet elegant courtyard reminiscent of Jiangnan. Awaiting Dong Zhuo were two of the Northern Wilderness’s most powerful figures: Chijie Ling Murong Baoding of Juzhou and General Zhong Shentong. Their invitation underscored Dong Zhuo’s precarious position.
Suddenly, he missed his younger wife, Diwuhu, and the innocent little girl Tao Manwu.
Stepping into the courtyard, Dong Zhuo, his wife, and Yelü Hongcai met Murong Baoding—the “Half-Faced Buddha” of the martial rankings—and the Zhong father-son duo.
Meanwhile, the Northern Wilderness Crown Prince secretly convened with a mysterious, androgynous youth and other shadowy figures.
Yelü Dongchuang, returned from the Liyang jianghu with the broken-spear warrior Deng Mao, met privately with Hong Jingyan, leader of the Rouran Iron Cavalry.
As for the Northern Wilderness’s God of War, Tuoba Pusa, he journeyed alone once more to the frozen north, using an eternal iceberg as his vessel.
Somewhere beyond, the Kunpeng awaited.
※※※
In the Northern Wilderness palace, an elderly woman wandered aimlessly.
Eunuchs and maids dared not approach.
As she revisited old haunts, memories surfaced.
Finally, she reached the plaza outside the main hall, where Taiping Ling had waited long.
Before joining him, she gave a young maid a peculiar order.
The maid hurried off, bewildered.
Side by side, the two ascended the steps.
The Empress Dowager knew far more than many assumed. Her silence wasn’t acquiescence.
Her first words surprised: “Our Northern Wilderness has too many Yelü Hongcais and Yelü Hongcais. Even among the elite, names are so careless. Master, if we conquer the Central Plains and read more, might we become more refined?”
Taiping Ling smiled and nodded.
At the summit, she turned southward, raising a hand and curling fingers one by one. “Our suddenly ambitious Crown Prince, that grandfather-grandson pair sharing the late Emperor’s surname, and the Chijie Ling of my own clan—these three have already split half my Northern Wilderness.”
She curled the last two fingers. “Add you and me, and the Northern Wilderness is gone.”
Taiping Ling stayed silent.
She laughed bitterly. “That fat Dong Zhuo has skill, but poor luck. Had he taken Northern Liang, all would be well. Now look at him. But then, my fate isn’t much better.”
Taiping Ling ventured boldly, “Your Majesty’s fate is indeed unkind. Had that Dunhuang woman borne a son, you’d rest easy now.”
Her face twisted with regret, then turned icy.
The woman who’d once ruled half the world coldly decreed, “Order Huang Songpu: by autumn’s start, we attack on two fronts. He either marches past Jubei City alive or dies beneath its walls.”
Stunned, Taiping Ling nodded without protest.
After he left, the Empress Dowager waited until the maid returned, carefully cradling a wildflower.
Alone, the frail old woman tenderly tucked the bloom into her hair. Gazing south, she thought of old friends.
Suddenly, her face contorted. Pointing accusingly, she hissed, “Xu Xiao! You made my life bitter—I’ll make your death restless!”
Then, just as abruptly, she calmed. Her whisper, too soft for any to hear, carried only gentleness.
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