From afar, they caught sight of a towering mountain. The Mongols called it the Hangai Mountains, though in China it was generally known as Yanran Mountain. This was where Dou Xian had once dealt Northern Xiongnu a crushing defeat. Engraving on Yanran Mountain and Fenglangjuxu were hailed together as the highest honors for ancient generals.
Thinking of the glory won here by the heroes of old, Song Qingshu felt a surge of excitement. Would I ever have a day like that in the future?
The snowmelt and rainwater from the Hangai Mountains eventually converged into a river rushing northeast—the Orkhon River. Karakorum City stood at its upper reaches.
Seeing the dense forests and lush grasslands throughout the region, Song Qingshu understood why the Mongols had established their capital here.
Only after arriving in Karakorum City did Song Qingshu realize how narrow-minded he had been. He had assumed it would be little more than a vast cluster of yurts, but it was not much different from the great cities of the Central Plains.
The streets were filled not only with Mongols, but also Semu people from Central Asia, Persian merchants, blond, blue-eyed people from Eastern Europe, and even many Han Chinese.
Song Qingshu had previously worried that, as a Han Chinese, he would stand out too much here. Yet given the situation, he was like a drop of water melting into a river or sea. Who would notice him?
Still, Song Qingshu could not relax. This only demonstrated how powerful the Mongol Empire was: it had conquered the lands of so many peoples, yet could still win them over and employ them for its own purposes. In terms of thoroughly integrating the strength of every faction, all the states of the Central Plains fell far short of the Mongol Empire.
He