The Xiongnu royal court's orders summoning every tribe to gather their forces and rush to the Donghu border were racing across the grasslands on the wind. Scouts' hooves thundered over every pasture, scattering the shadow of war across every inch of Xiongnu land.
Meanwhile, on the grasslands of Canhe Slope in northern Dai Commandery, a blood-red blade sharp enough to overturn the tide of war lay hidden. It lurked in silence like a tiger poised to pounce, waiting for the moment to strike.
It was noon. Blazing sunlight slanted across the vast, boundless grasslands of Canhe Slope. The grasses carpeting the hills and plains gleamed with a faint green light beneath the sun. As they swayed in the wind, they resembled a surging green sea, rolling layer upon layer toward the distant dusky hills until they merged with the horizon.
A crystal-clear river wound through the heart of the grasslands. Its waters babbled as they flowed, striking the pebbles along the banks with crisp chimes. It nourished the lush vegetation along its shores and lent a touch of lively vitality to the desolate expanse.
Scattered along the riverbank were the crumbling remnants of an old Zhao State frontier fortress. The weathered walls were riddled with cracks carved by time, still bearing the scars of old wars, yet one could still glimpse the majestic bearing of the auxiliary works once attached to the Zhao Great Wall.
The vegetation between the broken walls had grown increasingly dense. Weeds and low shrubs tangled together, concealing the area so thoroughly that it blended seamlessly into the surrounding grasslands.
Even if Xiongnu patrols passed nearby, they would never discover the secrets hidden within without a careful search.
There were no herds of cattle and sheep belonging to herdsmen here, none of the usual bustle and