Chapter 290: Proclaiming Himself King?
Fan Zhongxin was from Datong Prefecture in the Western Capital of the Jin Dynasty.
The Fan Family had been in business for generations and was somewhat well-known locally.
But a few years ago, they suffered a major setback when competitors colluded with government officials, fabricated charges, and threw him into prison.
To save his life, the Fan Family exhausted most of their family fortune, allowing him to narrowly escape death.
That ordeal did not break Fan Zhongxin; he took the remaining money and set out again on the Silk Road.
He resold silk and tea from the Central Plains to the Western Regions, and brought back jade and spices from the Western Regions to the Central Plains.
With his shrewd mind and daring spirit, he carved out a bloody path on the perilous trade routes, made a fortune, and rose again.
Upon returning, Fan Zhongxin learned his lesson, realizing that in these chaotic times, one could not go anywhere without backing.
He spent a fortune to attach himself to a high official in Datong Prefecture, delivering tribute on time every month without fail.
With this protection, the Fan Family’s business went smoothly, and they quickly reestablished their footing in Datong Prefecture.
That day, Fan Zhongxin was checking accounts in the back hall when a servant suddenly reported: “Head Shopkeeper, there’s a mister outside visiting, saying he’s your old acquaintance, surnamed Bei.”
Fan Zhongxin set down his abacus, pondered briefly, and said: “Old acquaintance? Surnamed Bei? Let him in, treat him well.”
Having been in business for years, he knew people everywhere and could not recall who it was for the moment.
Soon, the servant led in a young man.
The man before him was in his early twenties, sturdy in build, standing tall like a pine, with sharp eyes, clearly no ordinary person.
But Fan Zhongxin was certain he had never seen this man before.
“This mister, forgive my poor eyesight,”
Fan Zhongxin cupped his hands, his tone carrying some doubt, “who are you?”
The young man smiled faintly, unhurriedly taking out an object from his bosom and holding it in his palm.
It was an iron token the size of a palm, with only a sun-and-moon pattern engraved on the front and no other decorations.
But the instant Fan Zhongxin’s gaze fell on the token, his face changed dramatically.
His pupils contracted sharply, as if he had seen a ghost; he sprang up from his chair, knocking over the stool behind him with a loud clang.
“You are from the Nor Nor Nor~” Fan Zhongxin’s voice trembled.
The man nodded, smiling faintly: “Correct.”
Even Fan Zhongxin, who had weathered great storms and crawled back from the brink of death, could not stay calm now.
His thoughts involuntarily drifted back to that trip to the Western Regions a few years ago.
It was the battle when the Northern Frontier Army broke through Gaochang: iron cavalry surged like tides, the clash of armor and the neighing of war horses shaking the land—that was a scene he would never forget.
He thought he was surely doomed, his goods and life forfeit there, but the Northern Frontier Army did not kill him; instead, they let him meet a great figure—Jin Prefecture Governor Li Xiao.
He was a very young Han person, with an aura of authority in his speech, his presence so powerful one dared not look directly at him.
The other man asked him much about the Central Plains, especially concerned with the lives of Han people in Jin Dynasty territory.
Before leaving, Li Xiao not only returned his goods but also sent personal guards to escort him out of the Western Regions.
The next news of Li Xiao came last winter.
By then, he had become the renowned Great Protector of the Northern Frontier, commanding the entire Northern Frontier Army.
Fan Zhongxin had little concept of the Northern Frontier’s territory—he had turned back after reaching Gaochang—but he knew it was a vast and formidable power.
Great Protector Li led troops to conquer the Xia Kingdom, occupying the entire Hexi Corridor, their forces reaching the western bank of the Yellow River, terrifying the Xia Kingdom from top to bottom.
When the news reached the Jin Dynasty, its rulers and ministers were uneasy; though they tried hard to suppress it, ordinary common people knew nothing, but Fan Zhongxin had his own channels.
He had thought his encounter with that Great Protector was a one-time thing, with no further ties to the Northern Frontier, never expecting the man to send someone looking for him.
Fan Zhongxin guiltily glanced at the door, then quickly stepped forward to pour hot tea for the young man, his demeanor much more humble as he softly asked: “May I know the mister’s name?”
“A name is just a label, unimportant.”
The young man picked up the teacup: “Shopkeeper Fan can call me Old Six.”
Old Six?
Fan Zhongxin was amused inwardly but did not dare neglect him, respectfully calling out: “Six Mister.”
“I wonder how the Great Protector is faring?” he probed cautiously, his tone tentative.
Old Six took a sip of tea and nodded faintly: “The Great Protector is well, but remembering Shopkeeper Fan’s honesty back then, he specially sent me to discuss a business deal with you.”
Fan Zhongxin’s heart raced as he sat up straight: “What business?”
Old Six looked up at him, a meaningful smile tugging at his lips: “A big deal that can multiply the Fan Family’s assets tenfold.”
“Tenfold?”
Fan Zhongxin’s eyes widened instantly, his breathing quickening sharply.
……
On the grassland of Helanzhen Shatuo, wind whipped up sand and dust, howling mournfully.
The Kereit Tribe’s iron cavalry pressed toward Temüjin’s camp like dark clouds, allied with his old enemy Zhamuha and the Merkit, Oirats, and other tribes.
The allied forces outnumbered Temüjin’s by twofold, and a brutal great battle erupted in Helanzhen Shatuo.
Though Temüjin’s men fought bravely, they were outnumbered.
Borghul swung his spear to fell several men but was surrounded by the Kereit Tribe’s heavy cavalry.
Muqali led light cavalry in a charge but was repelled by Zhamuha’s archers.
The fighting lasted from dawn to dusk, and the Kiyan tribe’s formation gradually collapsed.
Temüjin suffered several wounds, watching his men fall one by one, his eyes bloodshot.
“Withdraw!”
He roared, leading the remnants in a breakout to the north.
Sangkun would not let him escape and pursued relentlessly with his army.
Temüjin led the remnants north, the pursuers shadowing them closely.
When he finally shook off the last cavalry, only eighteen men remained, all wounded, their armor shattered, even their war horses foaming at the mouth from exhaustion.
A turbid river suddenly appeared before them: the Banjun River.
It was the dry season; the riverbed exposed silt, with only a shallow pool in the center mixed with grass roots and mud, emitting a foul smell.
Temüjin reined in his horse, looking at his wounded followers, then at the empty grassland behind, slowly dismounting and kneeling by the riverbank.
The eighteen men followed suit, kneeling.
“Eternal Blue Sky above!” Temüjin scooped up a handful of muddy water and gulped it down.
“Today I, Temüjin, am in dire straits, yet my brothers have not abandoned me. If one day I rally again, I will share weal and woe with you all and glory together!”
“If I break this oath, may heaven and man forsake me!”
The eighteen men, moved, roared in unison.
“We vow to live and die with the leader.”
Their voices hoarse but resolute, they each scooped and drank the muddy water.
Temüjin stood, drew his broken saber from his waist, and pointed south: “Kereit Tribe, Zhamuha, today’s humiliation—I, Temüjin, will repay a hundredfold!”
He stuck the broken saber in the riverbank and tied his wolfskin cloak to it as a flag.
After eating horse meat, Temüjin began assigning tasks.
“Asuru, take men to gather the scattered soldiers; Hasar, go find the lost families.”
“We rendezvous on the Barghu Grassland, build strength, and await the chance for revenge.”
The eighteen men saluted and dispersed.
In this battle, the Kiyan tribe’s tribesmen were all scattered, even Temüjin’s family unknown.
Years of accumulation destroyed, Temüjin hit rock bottom again.
He could only gather scattered tribesmen and families while heading north to the Barghu Grassland, modern Hulunbuir Grassland.
It was far from Kereit Tribe and Zhamuha’s influence, allowing Temüjin to rebuild his strength.
……
On the grassland of Helanzhen Shatuo, the stench of blood lingered.
Flocks of crows and vultures circled overhead, wild wolves howled, the ground littered with broken spears and scattered corpses.
Groups of Kiyan tribe and Tatar captives were bound with ropes, squatting like strung locusts.
The men mostly looked grief-stricken and angry, some muttering curses that Temüjin had abandoned them to flee alone.
The women clutched their children, eyes fearful, glancing at the Kereit Tribe soldiers holding sabers, bodies trembling uncontrollably.
Hu Li followed Sangkun inspecting the battlefield, a faint smile on his face amid the devastation.
“Congratulations, Your Highness, on the great victory. Temüjin fled in disarray; now no one on the grassland can rival the Kereit Tribe.”
Sangkun reined in his horse, frowning as he gazed at the empty grassland, tone full of reluctance: “We won, but it’s a pity Temüjin escaped.”
“Rest assured, Your Highness; he can’t have gone far.”
Hu Li smiled faintly, tone confident: “In my view, he’ll flee to the Barghu Grassland or hide in the Greater Khingan Range.”
“Your Highness should order the Kereit Tribe’s warriors to pursue closely, giving him no respite.”
These words were actually told to him by Li Xiao when leaving Dragon City.
Hu Li admired Li Xiao immensely; the Great Protector, far away in Dragon City, had predicted the Mobei Grassland events so accurately.
Even knowing Temüjin would be defeated and flee to the Barghu Grassland—it was uncanny.
But Sangkun’s face showed no joy upon hearing this, instead revealing worry.
He turned his horse, pointing at the huddled captives: “Pursue? Difficult.”
“Do you know how vast the Barghu Grassland and Greater Khingan Range are?”
“Sending masses of warriors to hunt Temüjin—how much grain would that consume?”
Moreover, they had captured many captives to feed.
Even with cattle, sheep, and grain seized from the Kiyan tribe, it might not last the Kereit Tribe through next winter.
Of course, they could kill all the Kiyan tribe captives to save grain.
But Sangkun did not want a reputation for brutality; Zhamuha lost hearts by being too ruthless, defeated by Temüjin—he remembered that.
Hu Li saw this and seized the chance: “If Your Highness is troubled, the Northern Frontier can buy these female slaves.”
In Li Xiao’s view, the more women in the Northern Frontier, the better; capable men taking ten concubines was nothing.
To breed more children for Han officers and soldiers, the Northern Frontier would prosper more.
So, buying female slaves was one of Hu Li’s tasks in Mobei.
Sangkun scoffed: “We don’t want those hard stones; we need grain and cattle, sheep to keep tribesmen alive.”
He had no interest in money.
To Grasslanders, grain, cattle, sheep, ironware—these usable things were real currency.
Bringing these female slaves back to the Kereit Tribe to bear warriors would strengthen it; no need to sell useless stones to the Northern Frontier.
Hu Li smiled faintly: “Grain? The Northern Frontier has it.”
“Oh? You’d trade grain for women?” Sangkun’s eyes lit up.
“Of course,”
Hu Li leisurely swung his horsewhip, calculation in his eyes: “But grain won’t come cheap.”
“How expensive?” Sangkun leaned forward.
“In silver, young female slaves for three strings; older or too young for two strings. Unfit for breeding, we don’t want.”
Hu Li shifted: his gaze sweeping the cowering female captives: “But for grain~”
“One shi of coarse grains for three young female slaves. Too old or young, five for one shi. After all, transporting grain to Mobei costs no small sum in carts and horses.”
Hearing this ratio, Sangkun’s face darkened.
His thoughts churned.
These female slaves could breed warriors for the Kereit Tribe, but that would take over a decade; grain shortage was urgent.
With grain, he could rally more herdsmen immediately, select surrendered Kiyan soldiers to bolster ranks, and sweep Temüjin’s remnants.
Unifying Mobei was at hand; he could not wait a decade.
“Time waits for no one…” Sangkun thought darkly.
Only the Northern Frontier and Jin Dynasty’s rivalry gave the Kereit Tribe this chance against the Kiyan tribe; delay, and those tigers would devour them.
“Good!”
He yanked the reins sharply, the war horse pawing uneasily, gritting his teeth: “Trade for grain!”
Looking at the huddled Kiyan tribe women, his last hesitation vanished.
The Kiyan tribe and Kereit Tribe were never aligned.
The Kiyan tribe’s roots were in the Eastern Grassland, kin to the Shiwei People.
The Kereit Tribe’s bloodline was closer to Turkic and Uyghur.
Completely different peoples.
Even if the Kiyan tribe were wiped out, he would not blink.
“Your Highness’s choice is wise.” Hu Li cupped hands smiling, eyes brighter.
“You won’t regret it.”
Deal set, Sangkun pressed: “When does your grain arrive?”
“Two months at latest.”
Hu Li replied crisply: “But if Your Highness doesn’t want these female slaves eating free for two months, send them first to Yudu Mountain for the Northern Frontier garrison.”
“Everyone knows Northern Frontier people keep their word; we won’t welch.”
Sangkun snorted, wheeling his horse: “No need. Two months—we Kereit Tribe can afford it.”
Hu Li watched his back, smile deepening.
He beckoned a follower, whispering: “Go back and inform Great Shopkeeper Li—this deal is done.”
“Have him hurry furs, colored glaze, and other supplies.”
……
Dragon City, Great Protector’s Mansion study.
Li Xiao held Hu Li’s secret letter from Mobei, shaking his head lightly: “History’s inertia is too strong after all.”
Sangkun, Zhamuha, and the rest tried so hard but failed to trap Temüjin.
The Battle of Helanzhen Shatuo ended as in history, letting Temüjin flee to the Barghu Grassland.
There, Temüjin regrouped tribesmen, slowly rebuilt strength, sent men to beg Ong Khan’s forgiveness, sowing discord with Sangkun.
Ultimately, seizing the chance to raid the Kereit Tribe camp.
Turning defeat to victory.
Though Helanzhen Shatuo happened a year late, no fundamental change.
“As expected,”
Li Xiao set down the letter, fingers tapping the table, a self-mocking smile: “Only we transmigrators can kill the Son of Destiny.”
On the table lay the Six Garrisons expansion roster, fresh ink on dense numbers.
His finger traced the Six Garrisons’ soldier lists, eyes sharpening.
Once these new recruits trained, he would lead the Eastern Expedition personally to uproot Temüjin, this “Son of Destiny.”
But for now…
Li Xiao picked up his memory-drawn Mobei map, circling the Kereit Tribe’s territory. Sangkun held absolute advantage—let them keep fighting.
“The more who die, the better.” he muttered.
The Kereit Tribe was a fierce tiger, bound to clash with the Northern Frontier; better they mutual-destroy with Temüjin first.
Whichever won—Sangkun or Temüjin—the Northern Frontier profited.
To prolong the war, add some “blood” to the Kereit Tribe.
Li Xiao drew blank letter paper, ordering Imperial Guard Chiliarch Zhang Shitou.
“At all costs, open smuggling routes through the Jiehao Defense Line.”
This route was invaluable.
If Mobei were taken, heavy troops would garrison it.
Grasslands could graze cattle and sheep, but not everyone could afford mutton daily.
He would not let Northern Frontier soldiers relive starving herdsmen’s grass-eating days.
Mobei was too far from Jin Prefecture; grain transport costly.
Smuggling from the Jin Dynasty was more convenient.
Arrangements made, Li Xiao took Hu Li’s follow-up on Kiyan tribe female slave trade.
He noted on it: “Exchange at original ratio for grain; prioritize breeding-age female captives, hand to Sixth Garrison for proper settlement; strictly no abuse.”
After the Hexi campaign, he migrated 20,000 Han households to the Western Sea, many single soldiers and laborers.
To root them there, more women were needed.
Han families always valued patrilineal blood.
Father Han, child Han.
Each female slave meant more hope for offspring; Western Sea population prospered more.
These done, only one memorial left on the desk, boldly inscribed “Memorial from Gu Zizhong.”
Content even more explosive.
“Your subject Gu Zizhong respectfully memorializes the Great Protector.”
“Since the Great Protector developed the Northern Frontier over years of cold and heat, defeating the royal court, securing Gaochang, pacifying Hexi, conquering the Xia Kingdom, expanding a thousand li, arming 100,000.”
“Common people return hearts, barbarians submit—this is not mere hegemony, but heaven’s mandate.”
“In ancient times, Zhou declined, vassal lords rose; Qin held Guanzhong to unify all; Han inherited Qin, building four centuries.”
“Today Northern Frontier though called frontier town, holds politics, military, finances in Great Protector’s hands; Jin Prefecture base, Yili, Western Sea screens, Great Desert, Gaochang storehouses, Mobei to be pastures—already kingly domain.”
“Your subject hears ‘improper name, words fail’; Great Protector’s name shakes four directions, yet unfit ritual law.”
“Generals long under command, blood-bathed, hope to glorify houses; Six Garrisons troops and people settled, await sovereign to serve.”
“Lately royal court unrest, Song Dynasty Northern Expedition, Xia Kingdom clings, under heaven chaos.”
“Now timely to heed heaven, accord people, advance to king, steady Northern Frontier hearts, legitimize future Central Plains contest.”
“Your subject Gu Zizhong kowtows repeatedly.”
Li Xiao read every word, eyes rippling at “advance to king.”
Historically, Zhu Sheng advised Zhu Yuanzhang ‘hoard grain, delay king’ because strength limited then.
Troops, land, resources far below Chen Youliang, Zhang Shicheng warlords.
Premature kinghood made him target.
Yuan court decadent but would suppress open king-emperors first.
Only after defeating Chen Youliang, controlling South of the Yangtze River, did Zhu Yuanzhang claim Wu King.
Northern Frontier now at that stage.
Surveying powers: royal court shrunk to Chu River Basin, Eastern Kara-Khanid Khanate endlessly pays tribute and marriage alliances, Gaochang destroyed, Tubo endless chaos, Xia Kingdom gasping, Mobei tribes no threat.
Only Jin Dynasty threatened Northern Frontier.
But Jin tied by Song Dynasty, distant, hard for large expedition.
“Under heaven, no real fighters left.”
Li Xiao muttered, finger pounding “claim king.”
These years Northern Frontier absorbed many tribes: Han people, Khitan, Uyghur, Naiman, Turkic etc.; needed spiritual sovereign to bind them.
Before, bound by Northern Frontier Army strength and interests.
Now territory vast; Six Garrisons need not just victorious Great Protector, but king to revere at ease.
But advancing to king not simple; after much thought, Li Xiao could not decide lightly.
Candle half-burned, night late; he rose to rest.
Opening study door, a figure stood in corridor.
Woman in moon-white gauze, skirt swaying in wind outlining slender form, cheeks flushed, eyes shy.
Tajiguli’s sister, former Gaochang Queen Asu Guli.
Seeing Li Xiao, Asu Guli trembled slightly, bowing: voice mosquito-like, “Brother-in-law.”
“Asu Guli?”
Li Xiao’s brow lifted, to attendant guards: “How long waiting? Why no report?”
Asu Guli looked up explaining, blush deepening to drip: “I told them not to announce, fearing disturb brother-in-law’s duties.”
Voice softer: “Sister sent me to invite Great Protector over.”
Head lower, long lashes shadowing lids, ears red, unable to meet Li Xiao’s eyes.
Li Xiao’s gaze lingered meaningfully, unsaid.
He vaguely guessed Tajiguli’s intent.
So, he nodded gently, tone milder: “Lead on.”
Soon, Tajiguli’s courtyard echoed successive “brother-in-law” calls, each clearer, lasting an hour.
Not for other reasons—Tajiguli thought sister too introverted, quiet; devised making Asu Guli shout “brother-in-law” 10,000 times to build courage, cure social fear.
Suggest a royal title.
King of Qin, evoking pre-Qin western ambitions, fitting Northern Frontier’s Western Regions expansion.
King of Yan, Li ancestors from Yan Yun.
King of Han, Bright King, Northern Frontier King, King of Liang.
