Chapter 285: The Name Li Xiao, Inspiring Awe In The Northern Desert
The crimson tide slowly approached, the muffled sound of hooves growing ever clearer, like countless giant drums pounding in unison, shaking people’s eardrums painfully.
The Huihu Soldiers on the fortress walls turned pale, their hands gripping their weapons trembling uncontrollably.
When the cavalry reached the outside of the fortress walls, Bali’ala drew his cavalry saber and shouted sternly.
“Fire arrows.”
These Gaochang people were all spineless wretches.
Seeing the Northern Frontier Army arrive, they not only refused to open the fortress gates to welcome them, but instead drew their bows and nocked arrows, adopting a defensive posture.
Their disrespect toward the Northern Frontier was obvious.
They must be severely punished.
“Whoosh whoosh whoosh~”
A dense arrow rain swept across the sky like black clouds, instantly covering the fortress walls.
Many Huihu Soldiers didn’t even have time to scream before they were turned into pincushions, their bodies softly tumbling down from the walls.
“Mommy!”
A young soldier, terrified, threw away his bow and arrows, curling up tightly behind the fortress wall, not daring to show his head.
Not long ago, he had been the one cursing the Northern Frontier most viciously.
But when the Northern Frontier Iron Cavalry charged, he was the most cowardly.
In contrast, the general who had just reprimanded the soldiers, showing a posture of awe and weakness toward the Northern Frontier, now wore a completely different expression.
“Hold the line! Hold it fast!”
His face was ferocious, filled with a fearless battle intent, trying to steady the morale, but his voice seemed so feeble amid the thundering of the iron cavalry.
At this moment, the last flicker of hope in his heart was utterly extinguished.
The Northern Frontier Iron Cavalry was coming aggressively, clearly targeting the Gaochang coup d’état.
Facing such a ruthless and brutal tiger wolf army, did the Gaochang Kingdom truly have any chance of survival?
The answer was already etched in his heart—in the face of absolute strength, Gaochang’s resistance was nothing but futile struggle.
“Northern Frontier barbarians have oppressed our Gaochang for years, killing our common people, raping our women, enslaving our officers and soldiers, imprisoning our king!”
The general fiercely raised his saber overhead, his voice steeped in grief and fury forged in blood and fire: “Hatred unquenched!”
“Today is the day we pledge our loyalty to Gaochang!”
Originally, under Alkus’s rule, he had been enduring in silence.
But now, the Northern Frontier Army was clearly intent on annihilating the Gaochang Kingdom.
To continue enduring at this point would make him unworthy of being a Gaochang man.
His eyes bloodshot, he roared: “Fire arrows! Block them for me!”
Just as a sky-covering barrage of arrows completely enveloped the Liutiao Fort fortress walls, the Tiger Zun Cannons carried by the myriad household commander under Bali’ala were already prepared.
This hundred-jin heavy Tiger Zun Cannon could be towed by horse carriage, making it ideal for cavalry guerrilla assaults.
“Fire cannon!”
The Divine Machine Camp Centurion slashed down his saber fiercely, his roar piercing the noise.
“Boom—”
A deafening cannon blast erupted, gunpowder smoke instantly engulfing the cannon barrel.
Iron shots whistled through the air with fierce wind, smashing ruthlessly onto Liutiao Fort’s wooden fortress gate.
Wood chips and mud flew, the originally sturdy gate exploding apart with a crash, revealing a pitch-black breach.
The general stood behind the fortress wall, his eardrums aching from the cannon blast.
Gazing at the shattered gate, the last light in his eyes completely extinguished—even the final barrier was gone.
“Kill!”
Northern Frontier Cavalry surged through the breach like a tide, spears sweeping horizontally, long sabers chopping down, instantly hurling several Huihu Soldiers at the entrance into the air.
A Huihu Soldier charged at a cavalryman with his saber, only to be easily knocked over by the war horse; the cavalryman followed with a downward slash, the head rolling to the ground, eyes still wide open in incredulous terror.
Nearby soldiers’ legs gave way in fright, “thudding” to their knees, kowtowing frantically: “Spare me! Spare my life!”
But the Northern Frontier Cavalry ignored him, hooves trampling directly over his body, the crisp crack of shattering bones sending chills down spines.
A veteran huddled in the corner hugging his head, watching former comrades fall one by one, lips trembling as he muttered prayers, tears mixing with snot streaming down.
The young soldier who had just complained about the thin porridge was now pinned to the fortress wall by a feathered arrow.
And that Huihu General fought to the death without surrender, ultimately shot dead by a hail of arrows.
The entire resistance at Liutiao Fort lasted only the time it takes for one incense stick to burn.
When the Northern Frontier Cavalry ceased killing, the fortress was littered with corpses, blood flowing like rivers.
Fewer than fifty Huihu Soldiers survived, all bound together with ropes, trembling on their knees on the ground, heads bowed low.
Bali’ala reined in his war horse, surveying the breached military village, his brows slightly furrowed.
This level of resistance wasn’t even enough to pick his teeth.
He raised his hand: “Count the numbers, tend to the wounded, resume marching south in half a shichen!”
The cavalry responded in unison.
The surviving Huihu Soldiers hung their heads, listening to their own chattering teeth, finally realizing how laughable their earlier complaints had been.
In the face of absolute strength, the weak could only suffer whatever fate others dictated.
……
Hami City.
Candlelight flickered in the royal palace bedchamber, hurried gasps gradually subsiding as Qibidu, drenched in sweat, pulled the young Huihu woman in his arms even closer.
This woman had a youthful look, her features somewhat resembling Aisha’s, yet lacking that soul-captivating allure, and her beauty was a notch inferior.
She was Aisha’s sister Miguli, sent into the palace by Kudina Yan just after coming of age; tonight was their wedding night.
Miguli’s eyelashes trembled lightly, a hint of confusion in her eyes.
Before the marriage, her mother had repeatedly warned her that a woman’s first night would hurt terribly, but enduring it would be fine.
Yet her recent experience made her feel her mother had lied—not only did it not hurt, there was hardly any special sensation before Qibidu finished.
Still, she followed her mother’s taught words, softly nestling against Qibidu’s chest, her voice carrying deliberately mimicked coquettishness: “Your Majesty is so impressive; earlier, I felt like I was about to die.”
Sure enough, Qibidu stopped panting, a confident smile spreading across his face as his rough palm stroked her shoulder: “Naturally.”
This had always been something he prided himself on.
But when his gaze fell on this face in his arms so eerily like Aisha’s, her image inevitably surfaced in his mind again.
His heart suddenly clenched—that was the woman he cherished deeply, yet he had personally sent her to the Northern Frontier.
He stared at Miguli for a long while, then murmured: “You’ll never truly be her.”
Even as blood sisters with strikingly similar features, she could not replace Aisha in the slightest.
“Is Your Majesty thinking of my sister?”
Miguli asked cautiously, her fingertips quietly clutching the brocade quilt.
Yet a surge of defiance welled up in her heart.
Why, on her own wedding night, was he still thinking of someone else?
Even if it was her own sister, jealousy coiled around her heart like venomous vines.
But then she sneered inwardly: “So what if Sister once monopolized Your Majesty’s favor?”
Now she was sent to the Northern Frontier, to be toyed with by other men.
As long as I bear His Majesty’s child, I will be the legitimate queen.
While you can only bear a Northern Frontier barbarian’s bastard.
Miguli was only two years younger than Aisha, but from childhood, Aisha had always been prettier and more favored; everyone treated her as Aisha’s little tag-along.
Now, she finally had a chance to win once.
Aisha, defiled by the Northern Frontier, had no right to compete with her anymore.
Qibidu was also pondering the queen’s position.
Alkus’s daughter had been deposed and imprisoned; leaving the throne vacant too long was improper.
Though he saw Miguli as a substitute for Aisha and wasn’t particularly fond of her, he had to admit she was the most suitable candidate at present.
“If you can bear a prince for this king, this king will grant you the queen’s position and establish our son as crown prince.” Qibidu said firmly to Miguli.
Miguli instantly beamed with ecstatic joy, kneeling naked on the bed: “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“I will surely strive to bear a prince for Your Majesty~”
Just as the two prepared to continue making a little one, a palace servant’s voice came from outside the hall: “Your Majesty, the Prime Minister requests an audience; there is urgent military intelligence to report!”
Qibidu’s brows furrowed sharply, his spearhead instantly softening, a strong unease surging in his heart.
Tonight was his and Miguli’s joyous wedding night; unless the sky was falling, his father-in-law Kudina Yan would never barge in to disrupt it.
“Could the Northern Frontier Army be attacking?”
This thought exploded like thunder; he shoved Miguli aside, hastily donned a robe, and rushed to the great hall.
In the great hall, Kudina Yan had just arrived, clearly in haste, panting heavily, his purple robe speckled with night dew, face ashen as paper.
Seeing Qibidu enter, he “thudded” to his knees, voice trembling: “Your Majesty, scouts report the Northern Frontier Army breached Liutiao Fort this afternoon; the vanguard is less than a hundred li from Hami City.”
Qibidu felt his head “buzz” as if it might explode, aghast: “What?”
“Liutiao Fort has fallen?”
Liutiao Fort was a three-hundred-man military village, serving merely as an early warning for Hami City.
Its fall signified the Northern Frontier’s hardline stance toward this Gaochang coup d’état.
No tolerance—directly deploying force to crush Gaochang.
Qibidu hadn’t expected that after personally sending away Aisha and offering tribute, he would still face the Northern Frontier’s iron hooves.
Why were the Northern Frontier barbarians so insatiably greedy?
“Kudina Yan!”
He clenched his fists, nails digging deep into his palms: “Didn’t you say sending Aisha and tribute would stabilize the Northern Frontier?”
Kudina Yan prostrated on the ground, expression anguished: “This minister didn’t expect… Li Xiao… he never intended to let us go…”
“We were all schemed against by him.”
Qibidu slumped into a chair, dazed, muttering like a madman: “So that’s how it is, so that’s how it is!”
He couldn’t help recalling that night last year.
Right here in this great hall beneath his feet, Li Xiao had stood behind the table, looking down imperiously at him kneeling in the hall.
Amid the table’s creaking, Li Xiao had promised not to interfere in Gaochang internal affairs.
Allowing him and Alkus to fight it out—whoever won, the Northern Frontier would support as Gaochang’s legitimate ruler.
Qibidu had believed it.
He thought it was the promise earned by his mother, sister, and Aisha’s sacrifices.
But he never imagined it was all the scoundrel Li Xiao’s conspiracy.
He had been deceived by that scoundrel.
Candlelight danced in the hall, reflecting the despair and madness in Qibidu’s eyes.
He suddenly threw his head back in mad laughter, laughter laced with bloody tears: “Well played, Li Xiao! Well played, Great Protector of the Northern Frontier! This king will fight you to the death!”
In the bedchamber, Miguli, draped in an outer robe, stood behind the door, hearing everything clearly.
The smugness on her face vanished instantly, replaced by fear.
If the Northern Frontier Army breached the city, her fate as a newly entered palace princess would likely be no better than Aisha’s.
She might even be ravaged by ten thousand troops!
Thinking of this outcome, Miguli paled, regretting entering the palace.
……
While the Northern Frontier launched its war of annexation against the Gaochang Kingdom, the ice and snow on the Mobei Grassland were also gradually melting, revealing tender green grass shoots beneath.
Yet in the Kereit Tribe’s royal tent, a heavy medicinal scent and oppressive gloom hung thick.
“Cough cough cough cough—”
Violent coughing came from the bed; Ong Khan, over sixty, curled on the wool blanket, hair and beard streaked white, each gasp as if coughing up his lungs.
His gaunt fingers clutched the blanket tightly, knuckles white from strain, fine cold sweat beading on his forehead.
Sangkun sat at the bedside, repeatedly smoothing his father’s back with rough palms, brows knotted, tone full of impatience: “They’re nothing but quacks!”
“Treated for so long, yet Father Khan’s condition shows no improvement.”
He paused, resolve flashing in his eyes: “Son thinks we should send someone to the Jin Dynasty Central Capital to fetch a doctor!”
“Their healers are always more reliable than the grassland shamans.”
Ong Khan sipped hot sheep milk, the warm liquid soothing his throat and temporarily quelling the coughing urge, a faint flush returning to his face.
He waved weakly, voice hoarse as if rasped by sandpaper: “No need for the trouble.”
“Just an old ailment.”
He gasped, eyes cloudy yet carrying a measure of detachment: “It’s like this every winter; once spring greens the grass, it’ll naturally improve.”
Ong Khan knew his own body well—holding on for another decade or eight years was possible; this winter coughing was just a minor issue.
He then turned to Sangkun, changing tack: “How many cattle and sheep froze to death in the tribes?”
For grassland tribes, every winter was a life-and-death test.
If blizzards were too fierce, not only would masses of cattle and sheep freeze, but thick snow and fodder shortages would prevent livestock from pawing frozen soil for grass roots, leading to starvation.
Thus, at each ice-melt, the royal court first tallied each tribe’s population and livestock losses to plan the year’s development.
Whether to launch war or consolidate internally.
On this topic, Sangkun’s face darkened, voice lowering: “The western Ha Tulu Tribe suffered worst, nearly a third of cattle and sheep frozen; our main tribe fared better but still lost two-tenths…”
Speaking, his fists unconsciously clenched: “Last year’s fodder reserves were already short; now with so many livestock dead, we may not last till summer’s end.”
Ong Khan fell silent.
Grassland custom was clear: if losses were too great, tribes chose one of two paths.
Either trade with the Central Plains, exchanging furs and geldings for grain to barely avoid starvation.
Or take up arms for war against other tribes or raid south into the Central Plains.
Essentially reducing population and seizing grain.
Exchanging blood and lives for the tribe’s survival chance.
“Any word from the Jin Dynasty?”
Ong Khan suddenly asked; by this time yearly, their trade caravans should have arrived.
Sangkun’s face soured further: “The envoys haven’t returned, but border scouts say the Jin Dynasty seems to be tightening border defenses this year—likely… won’t trade with us.”
The tent fell deathly silent, save Ong Khan’s occasional coughs.
If the Jin Dynasty closed trade, the Kereit Tribe and dependent minor tribes had only one path left.
“What about the Xia Kingdom?”
Ong Khan, breathing steadier, rasped again.
The Kereit Tribe was originally a Jin Dynasty vassal; even his title “Ong Khan” was a Jin-granted official rank—his real name was ‘Tuo Li’.
Ties with the Jin Dynasty were always close, trade heavily reliant on them.
But bordering the Xia Kingdom, they occasionally traded for tea and cloth there too, less frequent than with Jin but a supplementary route.
Mentioning the Xia Kingdom, Sangkun’s expression grew graver than when speaking of Jin; he leaned in: “Father Khan, just got an urgent report from the southern Fa Li Ba Tribe.”
“Last summer, the Xia Kingdom and Northern Frontier fought a major battle in the Hexi Corridor.”
He paused, tone heavy: “Xia Kingdom suffered crushing defeat, heavy casualties, and lost control of the entire Hexi Corridor—now it’s all Northern Frontier territory.”
Ong Khan’s hand holding the sheep milk bowl trembled sharply, warm milk splashing his hand, unnoticed.
Though weaker than Jin, the Xia Kingdom was a key western power, stronger than Kereit—yet beaten by Northern Frontier into losing the Hexi Corridor?
Had the Northern Frontier grown so ferocious?
“Northern Frontier… Li Xiao!”
Ong Khan murmured; this name had long loomed like dark clouds over the Mobei Grassland, a nightmare tribes whispered of.
Initially, all thought him a mere Liao border general, incapable of stirring waves.
None foresaw his thunderous rise.
Annihilating the western hegemon Naiman Tribe, becoming Great Protector of the Northern Frontier, now turning blades on Xia Kingdom to seize the vast Hexi Corridor.
Such prowess marked a true hegemon.
A glint of reminiscence in Ong Khan’s cloudy eyes: history had many such figures—Yelü Abaoji, Wanyan Aguda, Yelü Dashi…
All temporary overlords shaking the world.
“Han bloodline breeding on Northern Frontier soil—is this Heaven’s Will, for the grassland to birth another Heavenly Khan?”
Gazing at the tent roof’s felt patterns, he muttered, then felt a twinge of relief.
His younger brother’s daughter Sorghaghtani was Li Xiao’s woman; Northern Frontier and Kereit were linked by marriage, affording some face.
At this, he nodded lightly, a smile tugging his lips: “Good tidings, good tidings!”
Sangkun was stunned: “Father Khan, what good tidings?”
“I mean, Northern Frontier seizing the Hexi Corridor is good for our Kereit Tribe.”
Ong Khan sipped sheep milk, eyes on his son: “Though Li Xiao grew on Northern Frontier grassland, he’s Han blood at core, steeped in Han culture.”
“Han value returning to roots; do you think he truly fancies the Western Regions’ Gobi? Or our harsh Northern Desert lands?”
He emphasized: “Northern Frontier’s assault on Xia Kingdom aims ultimately at entering the passes to the Central Plains.”
Sangkun understood, nodding slowly: “Father Khan is right.”
“If Northern Frontier’s strategy targets the Central Plains, the threat to Mobei Grassland diminishes greatly.”
Recalling past events, he still felt chills.
During Northern Frontier’s great war with Naiman Tribe, he’d led troops to snatch chestnuts from the fire, only routed by Northern Frontier Iron Cavalry.
That sky-darkening charge of fully armored cavalry, the Thunder God Pillar’s deafening roar—utterly despairing.
Ever vigilant toward Northern Frontier, he wanted no renewed conflict.
With Kereit Tribe’s current strength, they couldn’t beat Northern Frontier—that was plain fact.
Hearing Northern Frontier shift expansion to Xia Kingdom and Central Plains, Sangkun felt a weight lift.
Ong Khan watched his son’s shifting expressions, coughing lightly: “Since Northern Frontier heads south, we can use the chance to rally our people.”
“Send some war horses to Li Xiao—say it’s… congratulations on taking the Hexi Corridor.”
“Send war horses?” Sangkun was puzzled.
“As kin by marriage, we must show gesture.”
Cunning gleamed in Ong Khan’s eyes: “Also probe his stance—see if we can trade for grain via Hexi.”
“Though Northern Frontier’s threat to our Mobei Grassland is paused, our Kereit Tribe’s crisis persists.”
Ong Khan leaned on a wool pillow, each sentence accompanied by light gasps.
Jin Dynasty’s border tightenings grew bolder; none could predict if aimed at southern Song Dynasty or turning on Northern Frontier.
Post-defeat, Xia Kingdom huddled defensively, wary of grassland tribes exploiting weakness—trading with them would be hard.
Both supply trade routes had suddenly grown dim.
If even Northern Frontier refused grain trade with Kereit, only one path remained.
War!
“Days on this grassland grow ever harder.”
Ong Khan said lowly, voice laden with deep fatigue, eyes hiding a subtle ruthlessness.
With Xia Kingdom so weakened, Kereit had no reason to ignore the fat meat at its lips—perhaps bite now to ease the crisis.
As he schemed silently, Sangkun’s personal guard called from outside: “Great Khan, Your Highness!”
“Ha Tulu Tribe reports: Northern Frontier’s delegation has crossed Yudu Jin Mountain, heading straight for our royal tent.”
Hearing this, Ong Khan and Sangkun’s faces flashed surprise.
Northern Frontier’s delegation?
Why come to Kereit precisely now?
Silence fell briefly; Ong Khan straightened slowly, telling Sangkun: “Send your confidants with elites to escort, set sentries along the way—ensure no mishaps befall Northern Frontier’s delegation in our Kereit territory.”
Northern Frontier’s strategic focus had shifted to Central Plains; Kereit needed breathing room now—if a delegation incident soured ties, it would be loss outweighing gain.
That would be truly not worth it.
“Yes!”
Sangkun departed at once.
Ong Khan gazed at the embroidered eagle totem on the tent flap, suddenly coughing lightly, chest growing stuffy.
Jin Dynasty’s moves unclear, Xia Kingdom weak but guarded, Northern Frontier delegation arriving abruptly—this grassland wind was messier than imagined.
