In the height of summer, the vast and boundless Bandong Grasslands resembled a green ocean. Wild winds swept across them, sending ripples through the dense pasture.
Across this sprawling grassland lived countless nomadic tribes like the Tuwa Tribe, surviving by herding cattle and sheep.
The southern edge of the great grasslands bordered two kingdoms: Liang Kingdom and Feng Kingdom.
In previous years, the grassland bandits would head south every autumn to plunder food. Yet last year, they had unexpectedly fallen quiet.
Could it be that these bandits, who had always hungered for food, had truly found their consciences and abandoned plundering?
The answer was naturally no!
The north wind swept the earth, snapping the white grass.
Amid the green ocean, formations of cavalry appeared abruptly upon the pasture.
Ahead of them lay a grassland tribe that had only recently migrated here.
The leader of this vast cavalry force was a one-eyed man with a sinister air and a face full of brutal flesh. His sole remaining eye gleamed with ferocity and cruelty.
"Chief Tuwahaer, the Mulan Tribe's camp is just ahead," said a strategist-like man as he rode forward.
That was right. The leader was Tuwahaer, the bandit chief who had once attacked the Wu Li Army.
Back then, he had commanded only a cavalry force of over five thousand. Now, the force behind him had expanded to more than thirty thousand, vast and mighty enough to crush anything standing in their path.
"As before, urge them to surrender first. They are all children of the grasslands; it would be too great a pity to waste them in internal strife," Tuwahaer said, narrowing his one eye.
After more than a year of warfare on the grasslands, he had nearly unified the vast majority of tribes in the southern Bandong Grasslands.