Zhu Zhanjun's order quickly spread across the grasslands.
The three thousand Great Snow Dragon Riders, the army in the eyes of the Oirats, did not return home as the Oirats had imagined. Instead, they became a black whirlwind and began sweeping across the entire eastern Mobei grasslands.
Their method of operation was simple and efficient.
Zhu Zhanjun split the three thousand Great Snow Dragon Riders into two groups.
One thousand men, personally led by him, formed the main assault force.
Their task was to destroy the armed forces of every tribe that dared resist, at the fastest possible speed.
The other two thousand served as the "reception corps," following behind the main force to clean up the battlefield and take custody of prisoners and supplies.
The first tribe they visited was a medium-sized tribe closest to the Kherlen River, boasting nearly five thousand mounted warriors.
When the tribal chief received Zhu Zhanjun's overbearing "letter urging surrender," he flew into a rage. He tore the letter to pieces on the spot and chopped off the head of the Oirat defector who had delivered it.
He summoned every warrior in the tribe and shouted that he would teach those ignorant southerners who did not know the immensity of heaven and earth just how formidable the grassland eagles were.
Yet his bold declaration did not last even half a day.
That afternoon, the thousand Great Snow Dragon Riders led by Zhu Zhanjun appeared outside his tribe.
There were no negotiations and no standoff.
What greeted them was a sky-covering barrage of Armor-piercing Heavy Arrows.
With just one volley, the five thousand warriors the tribe took pride in were shot down at the camp entrance, thrown into utter chaos, with more than thirty percent killed or wounded.
Then came the nightmare-like charge of the Mo Dao.
In less time than it took to burn a stick of incense, the battle was over.
The tribal chief and his most elite personal guards were slaughtered to the last man.
The remaining soldiers threw down their weapons and knelt on the ground, trembling uncontrollably.
Riding the Wuzhui Horse, Zhu Zhanjun slowly entered the tribe, which was thick with the smell of blood.
The tribe's elderly, women, and children stared at the man in terror, their eyes filled with fear and despair.
"Your Highness, what should we do with these...?"
A Commander of a Hundred stepped forward to ask. He made a throat-slitting gesture.
On the grasslands, uprooting the weeds by their roots was the customary way of dealing with the defeated.
"Deal with them?"
Zhu Zhanjun shook his head.
"Why deal with them? These are all valuable labor resources."
He looked at the terrified crowd and spoke in a ringing voice.
"Starting today, your tribe is disbanded."
"All men over fifteen and under fifty will be incorporated into the 'Northern Construction Corps.' You'll build roads, mine ore, and construct cities for me."
"Don't worry. I'm not a slave owner. I'll provide food and lodging, and if you work well, you'll even receive wages."
"As for the remaining elderly, women, and children, they'll stay here and be responsible for herding and logistics."
"You'll live as you did before. The only difference is that, starting today, your khan will be me."
Through the interpreters, Zhu Zhanjun's words reached the ears of every tribesman.
Everyone was stunned.
They had thought they were about to face a merciless massacre, but they had never expected this outcome.
Though they had lost their freedom, at least... they had kept their lives.
Faced with overwhelming military intimidation and a slim chance of survival, no one dared resist.
Soon, the subsequent two thousand members of the "reception corps" arrived.
They skillfully counted the population, registered everyone, confiscated the cattle, sheep, and horses, then tied all the able-bodied young men together with ropes and escorted them to the new camp Zhu Zhanjun had designated.
And this was merely the beginning.
Over the next month, Zhu Zhanjun and his three thousand Great Snow Dragon Riders spread rapidly.
One tribe after another fell before them.
Those who dared resist saw their tribal chiefs and all armed personnel executed without exception.
Those who chose to surrender handed over half their property and all their able-bodied men.
Those who followed me would prosper; those who opposed me would perish.
This most primitive law of the jungle was brought to its ultimate expression by Zhu Zhanjun.
A month later, while the main army of Zhu Di was still leisurely returning home, Zhu Zhanjun had already gained complete control over the vast territory stretching east to the Greater Khingan Range, west to the Kherlen River, south to the Yin Mountains, and north to the Outer Khingan Range.
This grassland, larger than several provinces combined, had henceforth taken the surname Zhu.
Dozens of tribes and a population exceeding three hundred thousand had all fallen under his control.
Among them, more than one hundred thousand captured able-bodied men were incorporated into the so-called "Northern Construction Corps," becoming the cheapest and most immense labor force in his hands.
The remaining elderly, weak, women, and children became "employees" on his pastures.
Millions of cattle and sheep and hundreds of thousands of warhorses provided him with a steady stream of logistical supplies.
Standing atop a newly built fortress named "Zhenbei City," Zhu Zhanjun looked down upon the land beneath his feet that he had conquered, his heart surging with boundless ambition.
This place would become his future "land of rising prosperity."
This place would provide him with an endless supply of soldiers and warhorses.
His dream of an army of "one hundred thousand Great Snow Dragon Riders" would officially set sail from here.
At the same time, far to the west,
a ragged band of a dozen or so people, after enduring untold hardships, finally reached the border stronghold of the Timurid Empire—Samarkand.
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